Is it legit to just live in sweatpants for the next two weeks?
Also, Opie, what smells?
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Pregnant Thunder
The washing machine.
It laughs at me.
Taunts me.
Belittles me and calls me names.
The dryer.
I scoffs at me.
Turns up its nose and cackles.
Shakes a fist and asks if I want a knuckle sandwich.
As if they are better than me.
As if they know me.
YOU DON'T KNOW ME!
As if the fact that my laundry has never been completely finished in the two years I've been married has an effect on my ability to actually get it done.
As if the occasion in high school when my dad moved all my dirty clothes out to the back of my car, tossed in a roll of quarters and told me to go to the laundry mat would get me down.
As if the fact that I never went to the laundry mat and just lived out of the back of my car for a month would cause me to continue to live from load to load, never filling a closet with clean clothes but only digging through plastic baskets.
As if the horror that "laundry" has topped my To-Do list for the past 10 years of my life never getting crossed off would stop me now.
As if any of that had any hold on me.
As if.
Today the washer and dryer felt the wrath of The Pregnant Thunder.
I got after that mountainous pile of laundry like I was due to have a child any day now and had nothing better to do to than karate chop that gargantuan mess like it was my job. It also served as a good form of butt-kicking therapy given the current Chet issue.
FEEL THE HEAT AND PRODUCTIVITY OF THE PREGNANT THUNDER YOU INSOLENT BEAST!
That's right.
All of my laundry is done.
Everything.
And I laugh in the face of my washer and dryer.
The End.
It laughs at me.
Taunts me.
Belittles me and calls me names.
The dryer.
I scoffs at me.
Turns up its nose and cackles.
Shakes a fist and asks if I want a knuckle sandwich.
As if they are better than me.
As if they know me.
YOU DON'T KNOW ME!
As if the fact that my laundry has never been completely finished in the two years I've been married has an effect on my ability to actually get it done.
As if the occasion in high school when my dad moved all my dirty clothes out to the back of my car, tossed in a roll of quarters and told me to go to the laundry mat would get me down.
As if the fact that I never went to the laundry mat and just lived out of the back of my car for a month would cause me to continue to live from load to load, never filling a closet with clean clothes but only digging through plastic baskets.
As if the horror that "laundry" has topped my To-Do list for the past 10 years of my life never getting crossed off would stop me now.
As if any of that had any hold on me.
As if.
Today the washer and dryer felt the wrath of The Pregnant Thunder.
I got after that mountainous pile of laundry like I was due to have a child any day now and had nothing better to do to than karate chop that gargantuan mess like it was my job. It also served as a good form of butt-kicking therapy given the current Chet issue.
FEEL THE HEAT AND PRODUCTIVITY OF THE PREGNANT THUNDER YOU INSOLENT BEAST!
That's right.
All of my laundry is done.
Everything.
And I laugh in the face of my washer and dryer.
The End.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Is this for real?!?
Chet, I hate you now more than ever.
This morning I Googled "How to get squirrels out of your walls."
This is what I found:
"First of all, you have to determine if there's baby squirrels. Squirrels have two litters per year. For a 6-week span in August to mid-September, there's baby squirrels. After that time frame, the young are running about like mama squirrel, and suddenly the noise increases a great deal. In fact, this is when many people notice the squirrels in the first place. The same goes for the winter litter, from February to mid-March (these time frames can vary a bit in different areas of the country). If you see only one squirrel, it's a good bet that it's a female, and there's a nest of baby squirrels in the attic or walls, as seen in the above photo. If so, you must find and remove them by hand, or else they will die and rot and stink, or if big enough, chew the crap out of your attic if stuck inside without their mother. That's why it's a bad idea to simply set some traps outside."
Followed by:
"You could also just let them be, and see if they will go away on their own. [This was our plan...well, kinda. We planned to let Chet be and see if he would just die on his own.] I definitely DO NOT recommend this. First of all, they will just come back in soon for the next litter, and it will go on for years, I promise you that. While in the attic, they can cause a lot of damage. They are rodents, and so they chew a lot. They often chew on electrical wires, which can cause electric outages and fire hazards. Yes, squirrels can burn your house down. They also chew on wood, sometimes right through beams. They also spread a lot of poop and urine, and various zoonotic diseases and parasites."
Awesome.
Die, Chet! DIE ALREADY! Stop waking me up with your stupid scratching, and don't even think about burning my house down- I have one stinking cute nursery ready for my little baby, and I don't need you screwing it up.
Today has been one flop after another. Why don't squirrels and the internet and the Babies R Us return service understand the unique and fragile balance of a pregnant lady's emotional stability?!?! BAH!
All that positive and encouraging squirrel information found at: http://www.247wildlife.com/squirrel-attic-how.html
This morning I Googled "How to get squirrels out of your walls."
This is what I found:
"First of all, you have to determine if there's baby squirrels. Squirrels have two litters per year. For a 6-week span in August to mid-September, there's baby squirrels. After that time frame, the young are running about like mama squirrel, and suddenly the noise increases a great deal. In fact, this is when many people notice the squirrels in the first place. The same goes for the winter litter, from February to mid-March (these time frames can vary a bit in different areas of the country). If you see only one squirrel, it's a good bet that it's a female, and there's a nest of baby squirrels in the attic or walls, as seen in the above photo. If so, you must find and remove them by hand, or else they will die and rot and stink, or if big enough, chew the crap out of your attic if stuck inside without their mother. That's why it's a bad idea to simply set some traps outside."
Followed by:
"You could also just let them be, and see if they will go away on their own. [This was our plan...well, kinda. We planned to let Chet be and see if he would just die on his own.] I definitely DO NOT recommend this. First of all, they will just come back in soon for the next litter, and it will go on for years, I promise you that. While in the attic, they can cause a lot of damage. They are rodents, and so they chew a lot. They often chew on electrical wires, which can cause electric outages and fire hazards. Yes, squirrels can burn your house down. They also chew on wood, sometimes right through beams. They also spread a lot of poop and urine, and various zoonotic diseases and parasites."
Awesome.
Die, Chet! DIE ALREADY! Stop waking me up with your stupid scratching, and don't even think about burning my house down- I have one stinking cute nursery ready for my little baby, and I don't need you screwing it up.
Today has been one flop after another. Why don't squirrels and the internet and the Babies R Us return service understand the unique and fragile balance of a pregnant lady's emotional stability?!?! BAH!
All that positive and encouraging squirrel information found at: http://www.247wildlife.com/squirrel-attic-how.html
Monday, March 29, 2010
Pregnancy Update: 37 weeks, 4 days Edition
Oh my. 37 weeks and 4 days down. 17 days to go.
And I am rocking the baby bump like never before.
Tonight I'm going to visit the various areas of my pregnancy to give you the full effect. Kind of like a Magic School Bus/Ms. Frizzle kind of thing except without any graphic details like venturing inside the small intestine or something.
The belly: Whoa. So big. So itchy. So tight. So achy when I try to get out of bed. Sometimes the Hubs gives me a good kick in the rump to catapult me out of bed. Not kidding. It's just hard work moving this baby bump around. Still don't think he's dropped all the way, but it does look like he's slowly drifting south. Woohoo!
The baby: So cute. You know, for a little squirmy guy in my belly. He smooshes everything around in there at least three times a day. I seriously think he may be in the business of relocating several of my organs. It just feels like he's moving things around as though he was rearranging furniture. It's time to get that boy outta there! His movements are so big now that my belly looks like it's doing the rumba on occasion. I think he's going to be a mover and a shaker, folks.
The clothes: Good night. Nothing fits. Nothing but a few maternity t-shirts my mama surprised me with for spring. So sweatpants it is. Which is fine with me til times like tonight when sweatpants don't cut it, and I have to plaster on some jeans to hit up the grocery store. Let's just say, the pregnant waddle was in full swing as I browsed through the breakfast food aisle tonight. Slow moving, folks. Sloooow moving. And Crocs are officially the only thing that I can wear on my tootsies. I tried pulling off a pair of flats for church on Sunday and had to swap them out for my neon pink Crocs as soon as we made it back to the car after service. It was a doozie.
The nesting: It's in full throttle. Even my iPod is organized. Tomorrow I'm washing windows and wrapping up a few thank you notes. Hopefully putting the finishing touches on my hospital bag as well. It's amazing what a new mama can find to do when there's a baby on the way.
The crazy: Reaching heights never reached before. First of all, I'm going nuts. I can't remember anything, I repeat things, and I make up things the Hubs says. Por ejemplo, tonight at the store the Hubs asked me "do you want a fish?" Weird, I thought. I don't think I want a fish... Except what he really asked me was "do you want me to push?" As in push the cart. Not as in, "would you like me to buy you a goldfish tonight while we're out grocery shopping?" Oops. This has happened on several occasions. Another thing I keep doing is telling him to stop being in such a bad mood. Except I'm the one that's in a bad mood because I'm tired and cranky after cleaning all day and lugging a watermelon around in my belly. Like I said, the crazy is attaining heights never reached before. Which is saying a lot. Because I've got a pretty good stash of crazy even when I'm not pregnant. Praise the Lord for a patient and incredibly sweet husband who puts up with me all day and still manages to kiss me goodnight before we go to bed.
The nursery: Vacuumed as of today and ready to roll. I have given up on the closet, convincing myself Newbie won't care that it is stuffed full of a plethora diapers, fine china, suitcases, and my prom dress. We are a family that shares. And I think he'll be OK with that.
The dreams: Hokey pete. I keep dreaming of having this boy each night, and each night I'm always amazed that he comes out all round and sweet and chubby. It's so funny to think the little bitzy raspberry of a baby we prayed for 8 months ago is now a rounded out roly poly little baby. My mom and my great aunt had a dream I had him a couple nights ago too. I hope these visions come to be soon! My mom said she dreamed he came so fast and painless that I didn't even call her to come up to the hospital, but showed up at her door with him only half an hour after he was born. Sounds pretty good to me. Sign me up for that plan!
The heart: Oh so ready to cuddle my little baby boy. I can't believe we're two weeks away. The time has gone by so quickly, and I can only imagine how fast it will fly by once he gets here. My plan is to snuggle and hold and rock him as much as I can and just absorb every second of every moment I have with him as my sweet little bundle. Mmm....I can't wait to smell that newborn head. I love newborn heads. And baby lotion. Oh, it smells so good when the two are mixed together. Can't wait to smother my little man in delicious baby lotion. Is that weird? Yes? I told you the crazy is full blown these days.
The family: Some are e-mailing me numbers where they can be reached throughout the day in case I go into labor. Some are hoping he waits until my in-laws are back from Costa Rica next week. I don't want them to miss it, but I sure am ready to meet this boy! Some are talking about how Easter lunch will be at my mom's on Sunday unless we're all up at the hospital. I just can't believe we're this close already. It's fun to hear everyone gearing up for D-day. We are all so excited. This little guy is going to have quite the welcoming committee!
Well, me and this belly better find a spot on the couch- 24 starts in 6 minutes, and my grandmother just informed me this may in fact be Jack's last season. Oh, Bauer, how I will miss you when you are gone and I am stuck watching mediocre television while I slam down a bowl of Lucky Charms. I'm going to go enjoy it while I can. Bauer power to you and yours.
And I am rocking the baby bump like never before.
Tonight I'm going to visit the various areas of my pregnancy to give you the full effect. Kind of like a Magic School Bus/Ms. Frizzle kind of thing except without any graphic details like venturing inside the small intestine or something.
The belly: Whoa. So big. So itchy. So tight. So achy when I try to get out of bed. Sometimes the Hubs gives me a good kick in the rump to catapult me out of bed. Not kidding. It's just hard work moving this baby bump around. Still don't think he's dropped all the way, but it does look like he's slowly drifting south. Woohoo!
The baby: So cute. You know, for a little squirmy guy in my belly. He smooshes everything around in there at least three times a day. I seriously think he may be in the business of relocating several of my organs. It just feels like he's moving things around as though he was rearranging furniture. It's time to get that boy outta there! His movements are so big now that my belly looks like it's doing the rumba on occasion. I think he's going to be a mover and a shaker, folks.
The clothes: Good night. Nothing fits. Nothing but a few maternity t-shirts my mama surprised me with for spring. So sweatpants it is. Which is fine with me til times like tonight when sweatpants don't cut it, and I have to plaster on some jeans to hit up the grocery store. Let's just say, the pregnant waddle was in full swing as I browsed through the breakfast food aisle tonight. Slow moving, folks. Sloooow moving. And Crocs are officially the only thing that I can wear on my tootsies. I tried pulling off a pair of flats for church on Sunday and had to swap them out for my neon pink Crocs as soon as we made it back to the car after service. It was a doozie.
The nesting: It's in full throttle. Even my iPod is organized. Tomorrow I'm washing windows and wrapping up a few thank you notes. Hopefully putting the finishing touches on my hospital bag as well. It's amazing what a new mama can find to do when there's a baby on the way.
The crazy: Reaching heights never reached before. First of all, I'm going nuts. I can't remember anything, I repeat things, and I make up things the Hubs says. Por ejemplo, tonight at the store the Hubs asked me "do you want a fish?" Weird, I thought. I don't think I want a fish... Except what he really asked me was "do you want me to push?" As in push the cart. Not as in, "would you like me to buy you a goldfish tonight while we're out grocery shopping?" Oops. This has happened on several occasions. Another thing I keep doing is telling him to stop being in such a bad mood. Except I'm the one that's in a bad mood because I'm tired and cranky after cleaning all day and lugging a watermelon around in my belly. Like I said, the crazy is attaining heights never reached before. Which is saying a lot. Because I've got a pretty good stash of crazy even when I'm not pregnant. Praise the Lord for a patient and incredibly sweet husband who puts up with me all day and still manages to kiss me goodnight before we go to bed.
The nursery: Vacuumed as of today and ready to roll. I have given up on the closet, convincing myself Newbie won't care that it is stuffed full of a plethora diapers, fine china, suitcases, and my prom dress. We are a family that shares. And I think he'll be OK with that.
The dreams: Hokey pete. I keep dreaming of having this boy each night, and each night I'm always amazed that he comes out all round and sweet and chubby. It's so funny to think the little bitzy raspberry of a baby we prayed for 8 months ago is now a rounded out roly poly little baby. My mom and my great aunt had a dream I had him a couple nights ago too. I hope these visions come to be soon! My mom said she dreamed he came so fast and painless that I didn't even call her to come up to the hospital, but showed up at her door with him only half an hour after he was born. Sounds pretty good to me. Sign me up for that plan!
The heart: Oh so ready to cuddle my little baby boy. I can't believe we're two weeks away. The time has gone by so quickly, and I can only imagine how fast it will fly by once he gets here. My plan is to snuggle and hold and rock him as much as I can and just absorb every second of every moment I have with him as my sweet little bundle. Mmm....I can't wait to smell that newborn head. I love newborn heads. And baby lotion. Oh, it smells so good when the two are mixed together. Can't wait to smother my little man in delicious baby lotion. Is that weird? Yes? I told you the crazy is full blown these days.
The family: Some are e-mailing me numbers where they can be reached throughout the day in case I go into labor. Some are hoping he waits until my in-laws are back from Costa Rica next week. I don't want them to miss it, but I sure am ready to meet this boy! Some are talking about how Easter lunch will be at my mom's on Sunday unless we're all up at the hospital. I just can't believe we're this close already. It's fun to hear everyone gearing up for D-day. We are all so excited. This little guy is going to have quite the welcoming committee!
Well, me and this belly better find a spot on the couch- 24 starts in 6 minutes, and my grandmother just informed me this may in fact be Jack's last season. Oh, Bauer, how I will miss you when you are gone and I am stuck watching mediocre television while I slam down a bowl of Lucky Charms. I'm going to go enjoy it while I can. Bauer power to you and yours.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Chet
Today the Hubs and I decided to name the squirrel since it appears as though he will be staying with us for a while. We've come to accept the reality that he may in fact have a stock pile of nuts stashed away somewhere between the living room ceiling and the bedroom floor, thus enabling him to remain our house guest longer than we first anticipated. So we named him.
Meet "Chet".
The Hubs is the critter namer around here, and at 9:46 this morning while we sat and peacefully sipped our coffee before church, Chet was named and accepted as a current resident. He moved into the condo next to Sanchez, the ugly obnoxious bird with spikey feathers who likes to serenade us each Saturday morning with a screech unlike any bird I have ever heard. It's like he thinks the place is a bed and breakfast and expects us to get up and scramble him some eggs or something. Usually I just roll over and go back to sleep.
This afternoon I was stirred from my nap by something other than Sanchez and his scrambled egg demands. It was the panicked scratches of our new resident as he realized the lease he signed Friday night was a "lifer" instead of the "weekend rent" he thought he was paying when he crawled into the warm hole in the side of our roof earlier last week. His original misunderstanding is unfortunate. What is also unfortunate is how stinking close that scratching was to my head as I groggily woke up out of my snooze yelling:
"NO, CHET!"
"DON'T RUIN THIS NAP FOR ME, CHET!"
"GO BACK TO BED, CHET!"
Apparently squirrels don't have much regard for the value of a 9 month pregnant lady's nap time. Either that or Chet doesn't speak English. He didn't go back to bed. And he did ruin the nap for me. We'll see how much he regrets his decision when I commission Batty to come over from Room 9 under the stairwell to pay Chet a little rabies infested visit. Good. Grief. And yes, I do feel a little bit like Giselle in "Enchanted" with all the little city critters that have rented out rooms in my house lately. Maybe if I can get the lyrics down to the "Happy Working Song" and have a few mice scrub my toilets for me, I can make a little more progress in the "your baby will be here in two weeks, start getting things done" department.
As documented by the evidence below, I still have to pack my bags, pack Newbie's bags, pin some pics on his bulletin board, and organize his section of the way-too-full closet.
The good news is Newbie's bed is all made up and ready to go in our bedroom.
The other good news is, I have pin-pointed Chet's location to approximately this area in our bedroom. You know, when he isn't running across the ceiling in our living room. I am planning on using this information to my advantage should there be another nap-cut-short incident in the near future.
It's been a wild afternoon. I'm tired and itchy. I'm going to go find my starfish then rustle up some grub for dinner. Enjoy the last few hours of the weekend!
Meet "Chet".
The Hubs is the critter namer around here, and at 9:46 this morning while we sat and peacefully sipped our coffee before church, Chet was named and accepted as a current resident. He moved into the condo next to Sanchez, the ugly obnoxious bird with spikey feathers who likes to serenade us each Saturday morning with a screech unlike any bird I have ever heard. It's like he thinks the place is a bed and breakfast and expects us to get up and scramble him some eggs or something. Usually I just roll over and go back to sleep.
This afternoon I was stirred from my nap by something other than Sanchez and his scrambled egg demands. It was the panicked scratches of our new resident as he realized the lease he signed Friday night was a "lifer" instead of the "weekend rent" he thought he was paying when he crawled into the warm hole in the side of our roof earlier last week. His original misunderstanding is unfortunate. What is also unfortunate is how stinking close that scratching was to my head as I groggily woke up out of my snooze yelling:
"NO, CHET!"
"DON'T RUIN THIS NAP FOR ME, CHET!"
"GO BACK TO BED, CHET!"
Apparently squirrels don't have much regard for the value of a 9 month pregnant lady's nap time. Either that or Chet doesn't speak English. He didn't go back to bed. And he did ruin the nap for me. We'll see how much he regrets his decision when I commission Batty to come over from Room 9 under the stairwell to pay Chet a little rabies infested visit. Good. Grief. And yes, I do feel a little bit like Giselle in "Enchanted" with all the little city critters that have rented out rooms in my house lately. Maybe if I can get the lyrics down to the "Happy Working Song" and have a few mice scrub my toilets for me, I can make a little more progress in the "your baby will be here in two weeks, start getting things done" department.
As documented by the evidence below, I still have to pack my bags, pack Newbie's bags, pin some pics on his bulletin board, and organize his section of the way-too-full closet.
The good news is Newbie's bed is all made up and ready to go in our bedroom.
The other good news is, I have pin-pointed Chet's location to approximately this area in our bedroom. You know, when he isn't running across the ceiling in our living room. I am planning on using this information to my advantage should there be another nap-cut-short incident in the near future.
It's been a wild afternoon. I'm tired and itchy. I'm going to go find my starfish then rustle up some grub for dinner. Enjoy the last few hours of the weekend!
Friday, March 26, 2010
The Pickle
Today my father in law graciously sent a work crew over to fix a sagging gutter on the side of our house.
Tonight the Hubs and I were sitting at the table eating a gourmet meal consisting of a Dijorno frozen pizza.
I was mid-bite when we heard something.
Something loud.
Something panicked.
Something frantic.
It was not a mouse. Too big to be a mouse.
It was not a bird. Too fast.
It was not a bat. Too heavy.
It was a fat butt squirrel running his toocus all over my living room ceiling.
What was really comforting was the Hubs explanation that "he can't scratch through the plaster in one night...I mean, that would take a while."
Right. A frantic, starving squirrel couldn't scratch his way through the plaster in our walls over the course of one night? Has the man never heard of Hammy?
According to my calculations, squirrels are capable of a great many things, not the least of which is scratching their way through the plaster wall in my bedroom while I sleep. They also have an impeccable talent for sending Opie into an absolute barking frenzy. Fantastic.
There are not enough Samoa girl scout cookies in the world to soothe me tonight.
I can hear it. In the ceiling over my head right now.
The weird thing is, I fought for that stupid squirrel earlier today. When the Hubs said he thought he might have heard something in the gutter outside, but that it would be OK because the squirrel would just starve and die in there. And I had the audacity to say that I didn't want him to have to starve in there and could we please find a way to help him or at least leave some popcorn on the doorstep.
The nerve. That stupid squirrel is dead to me now. As soon as he took it upon himself to parade his chunky nut rear-end across my living room interrupting our Friday night dinner, it was over.
The rodent is what Elliot Reed (from "Scrubs") would coin as "the pickle on the crap sandwich that was my day." I mean, really. Squirrels were not the only thing that went a little not great today. Including, but not limited to, an improper interpretation of what the gown sitting out on my OB's table was for, an unfortunate meeting with a pair of saggy pajama pants and a stranger, and a jogging stroller incident involving a pregnant lady attempting to carry it down the stairs and it whacking her in the head in a less than friendly way.
So the squirrel? Not great.
The tears? Plentiful.
I have no idea what we're going to do. But I can tell you this: I am about to lay into the most delectable chocolate covered caramel apple known to man, and I'm not sharing a darn tooting bite with that squirrel. Not a darn bite.
Tonight the Hubs and I were sitting at the table eating a gourmet meal consisting of a Dijorno frozen pizza.
I was mid-bite when we heard something.
Something loud.
Something panicked.
Something frantic.
It was not a mouse. Too big to be a mouse.
It was not a bird. Too fast.
It was not a bat. Too heavy.
It was a fat butt squirrel running his toocus all over my living room ceiling.
What was really comforting was the Hubs explanation that "he can't scratch through the plaster in one night...I mean, that would take a while."
Right. A frantic, starving squirrel couldn't scratch his way through the plaster in our walls over the course of one night? Has the man never heard of Hammy?
According to my calculations, squirrels are capable of a great many things, not the least of which is scratching their way through the plaster wall in my bedroom while I sleep. They also have an impeccable talent for sending Opie into an absolute barking frenzy. Fantastic.
There are not enough Samoa girl scout cookies in the world to soothe me tonight.
I can hear it. In the ceiling over my head right now.
The weird thing is, I fought for that stupid squirrel earlier today. When the Hubs said he thought he might have heard something in the gutter outside, but that it would be OK because the squirrel would just starve and die in there. And I had the audacity to say that I didn't want him to have to starve in there and could we please find a way to help him or at least leave some popcorn on the doorstep.
The nerve. That stupid squirrel is dead to me now. As soon as he took it upon himself to parade his chunky nut rear-end across my living room interrupting our Friday night dinner, it was over.
The rodent is what Elliot Reed (from "Scrubs") would coin as "the pickle on the crap sandwich that was my day." I mean, really. Squirrels were not the only thing that went a little not great today. Including, but not limited to, an improper interpretation of what the gown sitting out on my OB's table was for, an unfortunate meeting with a pair of saggy pajama pants and a stranger, and a jogging stroller incident involving a pregnant lady attempting to carry it down the stairs and it whacking her in the head in a less than friendly way.
So the squirrel? Not great.
The tears? Plentiful.
I have no idea what we're going to do. But I can tell you this: I am about to lay into the most delectable chocolate covered caramel apple known to man, and I'm not sharing a darn tooting bite with that squirrel. Not a darn bite.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
It's not everyday you wish your pants were made of sand paper.
The itch.
Oh, the itch.
My belly has officially stretched to the point of no return.
Today my belly was so tight and itchy I found myself wishing I had an outfit made of sand paper. I could not scratch enough. Like one massive mosquito bite. Mid summer. With no calamine lotion. On your belly. That is what it felt like.
My theory is this: I have very sensitive skin. I was the kid in school who would brush a strand of hair off her shoulder then have people inquiring about the velociraptor claw marks on her neck that were the result of said hair relocation. My epidermis turns red at the slightest touch. So my thought is this whole "stretching the belly beyond recognition" thing is not my skin's favorite game, and it just so happened to choose today for the epic freak out.
When I got out of the shower and spied the decorative starfish sitting on the shelf in the bathroom, I seriously fantasized about grabbing it and rubbing it frantically all over my belly to relieve the itch. TMI? Sorry. It's just that bad. And the starfish looked just that good.
I'm going to ask my doctor at my 37 week appointment tomorrow if I can just drink a gallon of calamine lotion. If it's a no-go, then I'm going online shopping for sand paper clothes. Have mercy. This has got to stop.
In other news, today was officially my last day of work. Tears. Except I had none...I lost them all last night when Opie jumped on my belly, and I was convinced he squished my son flat as a pancake. Luckily, the Hubs talked some sense into me, but not before I had shed my weekly quota of pregnancy induced tears. So no tears today, but it was definitely a tough day for me. I am going to miss those sweet girls so so SO much, and no amount of time spent at the BK play place would make up for all the time I'll miss being their nanny over the next few months. But we sent the day out with a bang anyway, out living and out lasting just about every kid in the BK play place before heading back to make brownies and draw endless pictures of princesses. It was a good day with my little ladies. And I received an incredible going away gift- just about the cutest diaper bag I have ever seen filled will all kinds of goodies for Newbie. Then, my favorite, a gift certificate for pictures of my roly poly baby when he hits the 6 month mark. I already can't wait to see them. The mother of these girls was my wedding photographer, and I absolutely adore what she does with her photographs. Such a sweet day filled with the sweetest of girls.
Next on the agenda tonight: sleep. I have been diagnosed "crazy" by my husband after he witnessed me digging through the trash to find a check that I had slipped in between the pages of a book sitting on the dining room table. After watching me throw trash all over the kitchen searching for the check and then finding it safely tucked away in the book, the Hubs kindly asked me to go take a shower and sit on the couch and not do anything else the rest of the day. I think he has the right idea. I'm fried. Ready for some Office and then a good night's sleep before catapulting myself into a nesting frenzy tomorrow.
Until then, sleep well, my friends!
Oh, the itch.
My belly has officially stretched to the point of no return.
Today my belly was so tight and itchy I found myself wishing I had an outfit made of sand paper. I could not scratch enough. Like one massive mosquito bite. Mid summer. With no calamine lotion. On your belly. That is what it felt like.
My theory is this: I have very sensitive skin. I was the kid in school who would brush a strand of hair off her shoulder then have people inquiring about the velociraptor claw marks on her neck that were the result of said hair relocation. My epidermis turns red at the slightest touch. So my thought is this whole "stretching the belly beyond recognition" thing is not my skin's favorite game, and it just so happened to choose today for the epic freak out.
When I got out of the shower and spied the decorative starfish sitting on the shelf in the bathroom, I seriously fantasized about grabbing it and rubbing it frantically all over my belly to relieve the itch. TMI? Sorry. It's just that bad. And the starfish looked just that good.
I'm going to ask my doctor at my 37 week appointment tomorrow if I can just drink a gallon of calamine lotion. If it's a no-go, then I'm going online shopping for sand paper clothes. Have mercy. This has got to stop.
In other news, today was officially my last day of work. Tears. Except I had none...I lost them all last night when Opie jumped on my belly, and I was convinced he squished my son flat as a pancake. Luckily, the Hubs talked some sense into me, but not before I had shed my weekly quota of pregnancy induced tears. So no tears today, but it was definitely a tough day for me. I am going to miss those sweet girls so so SO much, and no amount of time spent at the BK play place would make up for all the time I'll miss being their nanny over the next few months. But we sent the day out with a bang anyway, out living and out lasting just about every kid in the BK play place before heading back to make brownies and draw endless pictures of princesses. It was a good day with my little ladies. And I received an incredible going away gift- just about the cutest diaper bag I have ever seen filled will all kinds of goodies for Newbie. Then, my favorite, a gift certificate for pictures of my roly poly baby when he hits the 6 month mark. I already can't wait to see them. The mother of these girls was my wedding photographer, and I absolutely adore what she does with her photographs. Such a sweet day filled with the sweetest of girls.
Next on the agenda tonight: sleep. I have been diagnosed "crazy" by my husband after he witnessed me digging through the trash to find a check that I had slipped in between the pages of a book sitting on the dining room table. After watching me throw trash all over the kitchen searching for the check and then finding it safely tucked away in the book, the Hubs kindly asked me to go take a shower and sit on the couch and not do anything else the rest of the day. I think he has the right idea. I'm fried. Ready for some Office and then a good night's sleep before catapulting myself into a nesting frenzy tomorrow.
Until then, sleep well, my friends!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The View From Here
The view from here is getting smaller and smaller every day...
But I can balance a cake platter on my belly. Just sayin'.
Today marks 36 weeks and 5 days. There's just something about hitting the 9th month that has pushed me into day counting instead of week counting. Because 3 weeks and 2 days just isn't a long time. And if I think about that too hard, I get a little panicky...my hands get sweaty, my chest gets tight, I have to remember to breathe...so if I say we've got 23 days left, that makes me feel better. More time to do laundry. More time to forget everything I've seen on A Baby Story. More time to enjoy eating Girl Scout Cookies without thinking about how its going to effect this year's swimsuit edition. So 23 days left. 36 weeks and 5 days. And I feel like I'm about to POP.
I can't wait to meet this little boy! I may or may not have snuggled one of the Hubs' 8 pound weights today, singing a lullaby and pretending it was my sweet baby. What can I say? I'm a little excited.
Still feeling good despite the occasional relocation to my ribs and the constant inconvenience of simply not being able to bend over without thinking I'm going to bust something.
We're down to weekly doctor's appointments, and we're also to the point where both the Hubs and my mom answer my calls with an "ARE YOU OK?!?!?" without fail every time. Something about being over 36 weeks pregnant gives people the impression you're a ticking time bomb. And I guess I am. I mean, did I mention I can balance a cake platter on my belly? Just sayin'. This kid is a bruiser and running out of room fast. I am seriously considering asking my doctor if it's possible for my stomach to actually explode...I'm thinking if things don't get rolling soon, it may come to that. We're getting dangerously low on vacancy, folks.
I wish I had more to report than the simple fact that I am huge and that the Hubs and I barely fit in a picture together anymore.
Just a lot of laundry and eating and American Idol watching and waiting going on around here. Although, the week is sure to take a turn towards the significant tomorrow when I wrap up my last day with the little guy I have been watching since December. And Thursday is a day I have been dreading since the summer of 2008 when I started watching the two sweetest little girls EVER. I'm in denial. I don't know what I'll do without all the fun hair bows and dance parties in the car and random exclamations of "Hey! Move your big 'ol butt!" or "Don't hold me! I'll squish the baby in your belly!" I am going to miss those sweet little girls so much, and I have no idea what kind of shape I'll be in Thursday afternoon when I have to say my goodbyes given these pregnancy hormones and all. I am going to be a mess. The Hubs is going to have to do some major damage control when I get home from work.
But that's Thursday. Today is Tuesday. And its time to find a spot on the couch to watch A.I....the Hubs has informed me its Miley Cyrus week. Really?!? I'm still holding out for Tim McGraw. When is Tim McGraw going to get on the show and tell these people how its done?
But I can balance a cake platter on my belly. Just sayin'.
Today marks 36 weeks and 5 days. There's just something about hitting the 9th month that has pushed me into day counting instead of week counting. Because 3 weeks and 2 days just isn't a long time. And if I think about that too hard, I get a little panicky...my hands get sweaty, my chest gets tight, I have to remember to breathe...so if I say we've got 23 days left, that makes me feel better. More time to do laundry. More time to forget everything I've seen on A Baby Story. More time to enjoy eating Girl Scout Cookies without thinking about how its going to effect this year's swimsuit edition. So 23 days left. 36 weeks and 5 days. And I feel like I'm about to POP.
I can't wait to meet this little boy! I may or may not have snuggled one of the Hubs' 8 pound weights today, singing a lullaby and pretending it was my sweet baby. What can I say? I'm a little excited.
Still feeling good despite the occasional relocation to my ribs and the constant inconvenience of simply not being able to bend over without thinking I'm going to bust something.
We're down to weekly doctor's appointments, and we're also to the point where both the Hubs and my mom answer my calls with an "ARE YOU OK?!?!?" without fail every time. Something about being over 36 weeks pregnant gives people the impression you're a ticking time bomb. And I guess I am. I mean, did I mention I can balance a cake platter on my belly? Just sayin'. This kid is a bruiser and running out of room fast. I am seriously considering asking my doctor if it's possible for my stomach to actually explode...I'm thinking if things don't get rolling soon, it may come to that. We're getting dangerously low on vacancy, folks.
I wish I had more to report than the simple fact that I am huge and that the Hubs and I barely fit in a picture together anymore.
Just a lot of laundry and eating and American Idol watching and waiting going on around here. Although, the week is sure to take a turn towards the significant tomorrow when I wrap up my last day with the little guy I have been watching since December. And Thursday is a day I have been dreading since the summer of 2008 when I started watching the two sweetest little girls EVER. I'm in denial. I don't know what I'll do without all the fun hair bows and dance parties in the car and random exclamations of "Hey! Move your big 'ol butt!" or "Don't hold me! I'll squish the baby in your belly!" I am going to miss those sweet little girls so much, and I have no idea what kind of shape I'll be in Thursday afternoon when I have to say my goodbyes given these pregnancy hormones and all. I am going to be a mess. The Hubs is going to have to do some major damage control when I get home from work.
But that's Thursday. Today is Tuesday. And its time to find a spot on the couch to watch A.I....the Hubs has informed me its Miley Cyrus week. Really?!? I'm still holding out for Tim McGraw. When is Tim McGraw going to get on the show and tell these people how its done?
Monday, March 22, 2010
Dear Hubs: Fickle Puggle edition
New to the blog: a fancy name for emails I send to the Hubs regarding my day and then copy and paste here in hopes of capturing daily drama and occurrences in raw form...now presenting:
Dear Hubs: Fickle Puggle Edition
(*Note: we do not have a backyard, requiring us to put Opie on a leash any time he has to go outside to do his business. He has some bells hanging from the doorknob that he rings with his nose when he has to go out. A decent system when he's quick to get the job done and then high tail it back inside. Not my favorite game when he has a hard time deciding whether he really needs to go or not.)
Dear Hubs:
Wowza. The dog is going crazy. Here is a recap of the last 20 minutes:
a) I take him outside after he rings the bells. His radar is going off, and I am sure he needs to lay some cable.
b) He squats probably 6 or 7 times, each time getting distracted by leaves, grass, squirrels, air, etc. before making any magic happen.
c) I proceed to watch the squat-just-kidding sequence for 15 minutes before giving up and going inside.
d) He runs from the mudroom to the bells. I ignore him. Because we were just out.
e) He rings the bells consecutively 8 times. I wait 5 minutes to be sure he's good and ready.
f) We go outside. I beg him and play the "my aching ribs" card to get him to hurry and finally he gets down to business. There was great rejoicing.
g) We come inside. He rings the bells. Again. And again. And still again.
h) He is still ringing them.
i) Is this for real? Now he is whining. And giving me the puppy eyes at the den doorway.
j) Seriously.
k) I am not taking him out. He is insane. And it is cold. And windy. And I have a headache.
l) He is crying now.
m) And he just rang them again.
n) The stare. He's giving me the stare. Does he not know I'm pregnant and not a big fan of the up and down and out and in game?
o) Cried again. Rang the bells again.
p) I'm going outside.
Bah.
Love,
your wife, who clearly needs to find something better to do with her day than document a long Puggle Potty sequence. Maybe I'll go eat a popsicle and take some Tylenol.
Dear Hubs: Fickle Puggle Edition
(*Note: we do not have a backyard, requiring us to put Opie on a leash any time he has to go outside to do his business. He has some bells hanging from the doorknob that he rings with his nose when he has to go out. A decent system when he's quick to get the job done and then high tail it back inside. Not my favorite game when he has a hard time deciding whether he really needs to go or not.)
Dear Hubs:
Wowza. The dog is going crazy. Here is a recap of the last 20 minutes:
a) I take him outside after he rings the bells. His radar is going off, and I am sure he needs to lay some cable.
b) He squats probably 6 or 7 times, each time getting distracted by leaves, grass, squirrels, air, etc. before making any magic happen.
c) I proceed to watch the squat-just-kidding sequence for 15 minutes before giving up and going inside.
d) He runs from the mudroom to the bells. I ignore him. Because we were just out.
e) He rings the bells consecutively 8 times. I wait 5 minutes to be sure he's good and ready.
f) We go outside. I beg him and play the "my aching ribs" card to get him to hurry and finally he gets down to business. There was great rejoicing.
g) We come inside. He rings the bells. Again. And again. And still again.
h) He is still ringing them.
i) Is this for real? Now he is whining. And giving me the puppy eyes at the den doorway.
j) Seriously.
k) I am not taking him out. He is insane. And it is cold. And windy. And I have a headache.
l) He is crying now.
m) And he just rang them again.
n) The stare. He's giving me the stare. Does he not know I'm pregnant and not a big fan of the up and down and out and in game?
o) Cried again. Rang the bells again.
p) I'm going outside.
Bah.
Love,
your wife, who clearly needs to find something better to do with her day than document a long Puggle Potty sequence. Maybe I'll go eat a popsicle and take some Tylenol.
Where's all the food?
You know its time to go to the grocery store when, instead of milk, you're pouring half and half in your Raisen Bran thinking, "3-22? That's today...please don't be chunky..."
Yikes. Probably going to the grocery store this afternoon!
Yikes. Probably going to the grocery store this afternoon!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
The Tulips are blooming...
Spring is here!
Until Saturday. When it is suppose to snow again.
Despite various weather reports warning of the impending death of all my Tulip and Day Lily blossoms, I am in complete denial because I simply cannot take any more winter. I need sun and flowers and grass and dirt. And dinner out on the grill. The Hubs got for real on some burgers Tuesday night, and we enjoyed an evening in the backyard complete with green grass, a puppy, and an ever-expanding 36 week baby bump.
Speaking of the baby bump...36 weeks is kind of a big deal. Because next week will be 37 weeks. And then we will be only 2 weeks away from my due date. And then we will have a sweet little baby to snuggle and dress up in all the adorable clothes waiting in his closet. I am so excited! And ready. The to-do list is slowly getting done around here, and next week I wrap up my nannying. Everything is coming together, and I just can't believe how close we are to meeting our little man. Just. Can't. Wait!
Until Saturday. When it is suppose to snow again.
Despite various weather reports warning of the impending death of all my Tulip and Day Lily blossoms, I am in complete denial because I simply cannot take any more winter. I need sun and flowers and grass and dirt. And dinner out on the grill. The Hubs got for real on some burgers Tuesday night, and we enjoyed an evening in the backyard complete with green grass, a puppy, and an ever-expanding 36 week baby bump.
Speaking of the baby bump...36 weeks is kind of a big deal. Because next week will be 37 weeks. And then we will be only 2 weeks away from my due date. And then we will have a sweet little baby to snuggle and dress up in all the adorable clothes waiting in his closet. I am so excited! And ready. The to-do list is slowly getting done around here, and next week I wrap up my nannying. Everything is coming together, and I just can't believe how close we are to meeting our little man. Just. Can't. Wait!
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
A Good Day
Today I'm nannying and enjoying the effect daylight savings time has on a two year old's sleep schedule. I'm also trying not to break more ribs. Ouch.
Today I'm planning on taking a walk in the sunshine and hoping for a play date with a friend and her sweet boy and newborn baby girl.
Today I'm basking in the pain and the glory that was getting a ton of stuff done yesterday at the expense of my poor, massively pregnant body. I may or may not have gotten in trouble when the Hubs got home from work since I didn't exactly "take it easy" like he asked me to.
Today I promised the Hubs I would take it easy next time.
Today I'm enjoying the sweet little thumps of my baby boy squirming around in my belly. And praying he decides to make an appearance sometime soon...but only after my bags are packed.
Today I am wondering why packing hospital bags is so overwhelming. What should I bring? Should I pack in one huge suitcase or a couple smaller ones? What's gonna fit?
Today I am mapping out my plan of attack on the porch decorations/spring flower arrangements. I love flowers and spring and I'm in complete denial about the said snow showers we may be experiencing this weekend.
Today I am looking forward to the hamburgers the Hubs is going to grill out for dinner tonight. Mmm...
Today I am grateful. Grateful for my husband, grateful for my sweet baby boy, grateful for friends and family and sunshine and hamburgers and good days.
Today I'm planning on taking a walk in the sunshine and hoping for a play date with a friend and her sweet boy and newborn baby girl.
Today I'm basking in the pain and the glory that was getting a ton of stuff done yesterday at the expense of my poor, massively pregnant body. I may or may not have gotten in trouble when the Hubs got home from work since I didn't exactly "take it easy" like he asked me to.
Today I promised the Hubs I would take it easy next time.
Today I'm enjoying the sweet little thumps of my baby boy squirming around in my belly. And praying he decides to make an appearance sometime soon...but only after my bags are packed.
Today I am wondering why packing hospital bags is so overwhelming. What should I bring? Should I pack in one huge suitcase or a couple smaller ones? What's gonna fit?
Today I am mapping out my plan of attack on the porch decorations/spring flower arrangements. I love flowers and spring and I'm in complete denial about the said snow showers we may be experiencing this weekend.
Today I am looking forward to the hamburgers the Hubs is going to grill out for dinner tonight. Mmm...
Today I am grateful. Grateful for my husband, grateful for my sweet baby boy, grateful for friends and family and sunshine and hamburgers and good days.
Monday, March 15, 2010
And all that with a belly the size of a watermelon
Laundry Round One: check
Spring shoes in, winter shoes out: check
Spring clothes in, winter clothes out: check
Baby shower gifts stashed away in the nursery: check
Baby Laundry Round Three: check
Kitchen cleaned: check
Dinner menu planned out: check
Grocery list made: check
Baby bassinet set up in the bedroom: check
Package of Oreos polished off: check
It's been a busy Monday...something about writing it all down just makes me feel better. =)
Spring shoes in, winter shoes out: check
Spring clothes in, winter clothes out: check
Baby shower gifts stashed away in the nursery: check
Baby Laundry Round Three: check
Kitchen cleaned: check
Dinner menu planned out: check
Grocery list made: check
Baby bassinet set up in the bedroom: check
Package of Oreos polished off: check
It's been a busy Monday...something about writing it all down just makes me feel better. =)
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Weekend Play-by-Play
This weekend it rained and poured baby stuff. I had a blast at my shower on Saturday! It was so fun seeing all the mommies of the little ones I've watched over the past 10 years. The gifts were fantastic, as was the food. Especially the mini-mocha cupcakes. I should know; I ate seven of them. When the Hubs saw the haul of baby stuff, we both agreed we have been SO incredibly blessed by family and friends. Our sweet little boy is going to have more clothes, diapers, baby gear, and binkies than he (or I!) know what to do with! I wish I had more pictures to show for it, but I'm lazy tonight and not up for waiting on slow computers to load pictures into a slow photo editing program. So here's a taster, kind of like those yummy ice cream samples they give out on little pink spoons at Baskin Robins. The skinny gal on the left? That's me. At eight months pregnant. Just kidding. That's my sister, the beautiful bride-to-be. I just like to live vicariously through her and her size 2 jeans and matching scarf.
The picture in the lower left hand corner was my favorite baby item ever. My grandmother made a quilt for my little Newbie that is the softest and most precious thing I have ever touched. It's almost too sweet to use. She attached a treasure of a note on the bottom of the quilt, and I absolutely love love love it.
After the shower, the Hubs and I had a fun night at my parents' house discussing D-day details and swooning over the baby clothes. Even the menfolk joined in. There's just something about a little pair of carpenter jeans that sends one over the edge. So. Stinking. Cute.
Last night I woke up and didn't sleep for four hours. I was convinced I was either about to have my baby or my stomach was attempting to crawl out of my ear. It appears all the commotion can be chalked up to my son's decision to move on into the left side of my rib cage. I can't say I'm happy about it. It HURTS.
This afternoon, I put my head down and powered through, despite my aching ribs. The Hubs and I set out for the country to celebrate his great-grandma's 90th birthday. Good times and lots of ham and mac & cheese were had by all. =) After the b-day bash, the Hubs and I made a Babies 'R Us run. The Hubs took the tax return along for the ride, and we had a grand 'ol time. We loaded the cart up with anything and everything we still needed for our little man, helping me breathe a little easier since I've been sweating a few items that I knew we would need before the big D-day. THEN. THEN, the Hubs drove me over to Old Navy and bought me new shoes, shirts, and skirts for spring and summer, knowing I was stressed about the whole "the capris of 2009 are most certainly not going to do this mama any favors this year" issue. He is not a big fan of shopping, but was so sweet, pointing out things he liked and asking if there was anything else I needed after his arms were swamped in whirly skirts and cute flip flops. He's my hero. Hands down.
Now I'm off to ice my ribs and fold some of the tiniest little pants and socks I've ever seen. Hacking through my mountain of laundry one onesie at a time...
The picture in the lower left hand corner was my favorite baby item ever. My grandmother made a quilt for my little Newbie that is the softest and most precious thing I have ever touched. It's almost too sweet to use. She attached a treasure of a note on the bottom of the quilt, and I absolutely love love love it.
After the shower, the Hubs and I had a fun night at my parents' house discussing D-day details and swooning over the baby clothes. Even the menfolk joined in. There's just something about a little pair of carpenter jeans that sends one over the edge. So. Stinking. Cute.
Last night I woke up and didn't sleep for four hours. I was convinced I was either about to have my baby or my stomach was attempting to crawl out of my ear. It appears all the commotion can be chalked up to my son's decision to move on into the left side of my rib cage. I can't say I'm happy about it. It HURTS.
This afternoon, I put my head down and powered through, despite my aching ribs. The Hubs and I set out for the country to celebrate his great-grandma's 90th birthday. Good times and lots of ham and mac & cheese were had by all. =) After the b-day bash, the Hubs and I made a Babies 'R Us run. The Hubs took the tax return along for the ride, and we had a grand 'ol time. We loaded the cart up with anything and everything we still needed for our little man, helping me breathe a little easier since I've been sweating a few items that I knew we would need before the big D-day. THEN. THEN, the Hubs drove me over to Old Navy and bought me new shoes, shirts, and skirts for spring and summer, knowing I was stressed about the whole "the capris of 2009 are most certainly not going to do this mama any favors this year" issue. He is not a big fan of shopping, but was so sweet, pointing out things he liked and asking if there was anything else I needed after his arms were swamped in whirly skirts and cute flip flops. He's my hero. Hands down.
Now I'm off to ice my ribs and fold some of the tiniest little pants and socks I've ever seen. Hacking through my mountain of laundry one onesie at a time...
Baby Back Ribs
Dear Newbie,
Seems like your entire thigh, derriere, or head has taken up residence in my rib cage. It's not my favorite game. I'm not sure how much longer your daddy can pretend my complaining doesn't bother him. However, I did get two sympathy 15 dollar whirly skirts from Old Navy because Daddy felt so sorry for me today. So that's one advantage. I love the skirts, but I've weighed the pros and cons, and really, Sweet Pea, do you think you could move it south a little? I think something might have just cracked.
Love,
Mama
Seems like your entire thigh, derriere, or head has taken up residence in my rib cage. It's not my favorite game. I'm not sure how much longer your daddy can pretend my complaining doesn't bother him. However, I did get two sympathy 15 dollar whirly skirts from Old Navy because Daddy felt so sorry for me today. So that's one advantage. I love the skirts, but I've weighed the pros and cons, and really, Sweet Pea, do you think you could move it south a little? I think something might have just cracked.
Love,
Mama
Friday, March 12, 2010
The Walrus' List and other news
I haven't written in a while because, frankly, there's been a lot of this going on
...while I lay passed out on the couch. Opie's face in this picture totally captures my daily plight: "Please, just let me lay here!" I had no idea the last stretch of pregnancy would be so exhausting. Carrying around what feels like three bowling balls is a rough go. I absolutely adore this sweet baby, but I absolutely cannot wait for his feet to hit the planet so I can bend over and put on my own socks again. The Hubs gave me the OK to cut back a day or two of work beginning next week, and the wonderful family I nanny for heard my plea and agreed. I guess its kind of hard to say no to a walrus with swollen feet. So the next two weeks will be a light load of work, and then I stop working altogether and start investing in all my fantastic nesting ambitions.
Oh, my ambitions. The nesting to-do list is a doozie. It includes the following, all of which seem like pressing matters that simply cannot go undone before the birth of my baby. Welcome to my caliber of crazy.
-pack hospital bags
-charge camera batteries
-figure out what to do with Opie
-make a D-day calling list (Let me know if you want in on the list!)
-put away winter coats
-put away winter clothes & shoes, pull out spring clothes & shoes
-hang pictures in nursery
-organize dresser in nursery
-cook and freeze meals
-stock up pantry
-buy some stinking spring maternity clothes, because, let's face it, this mama ain't gonna be ready for last year's capris any time soon
-buy a 15 dollar skirt from Old Navy because, wow, what a deal, and golly, I love skirts
-set up bassinet
-dust baseboards
-get carpet cleaned
-figure out which stinking baby bathtub to buy (why is that a stressful task?!?)
-install carseat
-write in baby journal
-finish filling out Baby Book
-buy non-toxic Method household cleaner and 7th Generation dish soap
-organize sock basket
-wash, dry, fold, and put away all laundry (why, WHY does this never get done?)
-sterilize pacifiers and start calling them binkies because it sounds cuter (how do you sterilize binkies?)
-vaccuum out both cars
-clean up the backyard
I wish I made that list up, but I didn't. It's the real deal. I have 5 weeks. But I'm really psyching myself out for an early delivery, (because there just isn't any more room!) so I'm shooting for completing the list in the next 2-3 weeks. Oh, boy. I am not above hiring my sister or friends to help. I look at that list and I get a little twitch.
In other news, tomorrow some wonderful family friends are throwing us a baby shower. I absolutely cannot wait! I'm going to lay all nesting obsessions aside and just enjoy the day. The women throwing the shower are my parents' neighbors, and growing up I babysat for just about all of their kiddos at some point. I am so looking forward to seeing everyone and catching up. And I love love love baby stuff, so that's going to be icing on the cake!
On another side note, I just looked over at the Hubs, who is playing video games (told you there's been a lot of that going on around here!) and I seriously got nauseous. His little army man is climbing an ice cliff like some kind of Bear Grylls, and he just about fell overboard. I can't take video games. I am the person the little instruction manuals write the motion sickness warnings for. Truly. Where is the Dramamine?
Hope you all have a fabulous Friday night. I'll be back soon with shower pics. =)
...while I lay passed out on the couch. Opie's face in this picture totally captures my daily plight: "Please, just let me lay here!" I had no idea the last stretch of pregnancy would be so exhausting. Carrying around what feels like three bowling balls is a rough go. I absolutely adore this sweet baby, but I absolutely cannot wait for his feet to hit the planet so I can bend over and put on my own socks again. The Hubs gave me the OK to cut back a day or two of work beginning next week, and the wonderful family I nanny for heard my plea and agreed. I guess its kind of hard to say no to a walrus with swollen feet. So the next two weeks will be a light load of work, and then I stop working altogether and start investing in all my fantastic nesting ambitions.
Oh, my ambitions. The nesting to-do list is a doozie. It includes the following, all of which seem like pressing matters that simply cannot go undone before the birth of my baby. Welcome to my caliber of crazy.
-pack hospital bags
-charge camera batteries
-figure out what to do with Opie
-make a D-day calling list (Let me know if you want in on the list!)
-put away winter coats
-put away winter clothes & shoes, pull out spring clothes & shoes
-hang pictures in nursery
-organize dresser in nursery
-cook and freeze meals
-stock up pantry
-buy some stinking spring maternity clothes, because, let's face it, this mama ain't gonna be ready for last year's capris any time soon
-buy a 15 dollar skirt from Old Navy because, wow, what a deal, and golly, I love skirts
-set up bassinet
-dust baseboards
-get carpet cleaned
-figure out which stinking baby bathtub to buy (why is that a stressful task?!?)
-install carseat
-write in baby journal
-finish filling out Baby Book
-buy non-toxic Method household cleaner and 7th Generation dish soap
-organize sock basket
-wash, dry, fold, and put away all laundry (why, WHY does this never get done?)
-sterilize pacifiers and start calling them binkies because it sounds cuter (how do you sterilize binkies?)
-vaccuum out both cars
-clean up the backyard
I wish I made that list up, but I didn't. It's the real deal. I have 5 weeks. But I'm really psyching myself out for an early delivery, (because there just isn't any more room!) so I'm shooting for completing the list in the next 2-3 weeks. Oh, boy. I am not above hiring my sister or friends to help. I look at that list and I get a little twitch.
In other news, tomorrow some wonderful family friends are throwing us a baby shower. I absolutely cannot wait! I'm going to lay all nesting obsessions aside and just enjoy the day. The women throwing the shower are my parents' neighbors, and growing up I babysat for just about all of their kiddos at some point. I am so looking forward to seeing everyone and catching up. And I love love love baby stuff, so that's going to be icing on the cake!
On another side note, I just looked over at the Hubs, who is playing video games (told you there's been a lot of that going on around here!) and I seriously got nauseous. His little army man is climbing an ice cliff like some kind of Bear Grylls, and he just about fell overboard. I can't take video games. I am the person the little instruction manuals write the motion sickness warnings for. Truly. Where is the Dramamine?
Hope you all have a fabulous Friday night. I'll be back soon with shower pics. =)
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Campfires and Yard work
Not long now
before we'll be able to do this
and this
and this
and this
again.
I love Spring.
before we'll be able to do this
and this
and this
and this
again.
I love Spring.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Shake it like a polaroid picture
A few of my favorite things...
...if you didn't make the Polaroid Parade, you're still a favorite. It's just that 24 starts in T-minus 2 minutes and I have to find my jelly beans. Love to all and a happy Monday!
...if you didn't make the Polaroid Parade, you're still a favorite. It's just that 24 starts in T-minus 2 minutes and I have to find my jelly beans. Love to all and a happy Monday!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
A Schmattering
This weekend was a schmattering of events (I think might have made up that word):
1) We went to the Olive Garden and got in after a said 35 minute wait that turned out to be only 11 minutes...definitely a score for the starving pregnant lady.
2) We filled the tire with air. It was a lot of fun.
3) We went for a walk on a beautiful Saturday afternoon and attempted to drain the mutt of all his pent up energy. That didn't work. But the walk was nice.
4) As a pick-me-up after implanting two screws deep into the depths of the wall at my attempted DIY project, I got a little crafty and made some fun pictures to frame out of scrapbook paper I had stashed away.
5) We hit up Qdoba for lunch with some friends after church. I'm a big fan of quesadillas and friends, so it was a perfect Sunday afternoon combo.
6) And last, but certainly not least...on our way home we bought two bags full of Starburst Jelly Beans. Those jelly beans are like a drug to me. I keep on going back for more. It reminds me of that Kelly Clarkson song- it's as if that song was written about me and my Starburst Jelly Beans:
I'm hooked on you
I need a fix
I can't take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I'll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that's it
Just a little bit more to get me through this
Seriously.
We're sure to need a refill by next weekend because between the Hubs and I, we've just about killed off half a bag already. This addiction is great for the taste buds- not so great for the thighs; however, when you're wearing pants with massive elastic waistbands, the thigh issue isn't a big deal. So I've been downing them like water. Like I said: my drug.
1) We went to the Olive Garden and got in after a said 35 minute wait that turned out to be only 11 minutes...definitely a score for the starving pregnant lady.
2) We filled the tire with air. It was a lot of fun.
3) We went for a walk on a beautiful Saturday afternoon and attempted to drain the mutt of all his pent up energy. That didn't work. But the walk was nice.
4) As a pick-me-up after implanting two screws deep into the depths of the wall at my attempted DIY project, I got a little crafty and made some fun pictures to frame out of scrapbook paper I had stashed away.
5) We hit up Qdoba for lunch with some friends after church. I'm a big fan of quesadillas and friends, so it was a perfect Sunday afternoon combo.
6) And last, but certainly not least...on our way home we bought two bags full of Starburst Jelly Beans. Those jelly beans are like a drug to me. I keep on going back for more. It reminds me of that Kelly Clarkson song- it's as if that song was written about me and my Starburst Jelly Beans:
I'm hooked on you
I need a fix
I can't take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I'll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that's it
Just a little bit more to get me through this
Seriously.
We're sure to need a refill by next weekend because between the Hubs and I, we've just about killed off half a bag already. This addiction is great for the taste buds- not so great for the thighs; however, when you're wearing pants with massive elastic waistbands, the thigh issue isn't a big deal. So I've been downing them like water. Like I said: my drug.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Loving Lately...Pregnancy Edition
There are a few things that I have been absolutely loving in this last trimester of my pregnancy that, after a long night out dining and shopping with the Hubs, I have decided deserve a shout out.
1) My Crocs. Oh, my sweet, tacky, foamy, cozy winter Crocs. These puppies have cradled my swollen tootsies just about every day since mid-January, and I have no idea what I would do if I had to actually bend over and pull on a real pair of shoes. I can't wait to break out my spring editions next month.
2) Men's wear. At 8 months pregnant, a price cannot be placed on the value of a good pair of man pants at the end of a long day. I am currently residing in the Hubs' camo flannel pj's and his over sized rugby t-shirt, and I could not be a happier camper. Thank goodness for the men's wear.
3) I wish I could list cocoa butter, which claims to prevent the marks-that-must-not-be-named, here, but due to the recent development of what the Hubs has termed "badges of honor" on my belly, the cocoa butter and I are not on speaking terms.
4) Smoothie Berry Fusion Tums. Oh, the Tums. Saving the lives of fire-breathing dragons everywhere. The Tums have taken up residence in my purse and on my nightstand, and because of their irreplaceable heartburn fighting services, I'm not even charging rent.
5) Popsicles. All the delicious, half the calories. I could build a small cabin with the Popsicle sticks we've accumulated in the past two months around here. YUM.
6)The Boppy pregnancy wedge. I seriously think my belly would just roll right out of bed if I didn't sleep with one of these at night. Thank you, Santa Claus, for the fantastic stocking stuffer. Love it.
7)Lavender linen spray. Sweet fields of wild flowers. I spray a sizable ocean of the stuff all over my pillows and sheets before bed each night. So relaxing.
8)Bath and Body works' Tranquil Sugar Scrub in Lavender Vanilla. This stuff is incredible. Usually 20 bucks, I bought it at their semi-annual sale for 5 dolores. Rub it on the feet and arms and your limbs turn to jello. I adore this stuff after a long day of being on my feet.
9)Pill boxes. I am a fan. When I started taking my prenatal vitamins, I'd go all "oh my gosh, my baby is going to OD on iron and folic acid" while trying to figure out if I had taken one already or not. Pill boxes= stress free vitamining.
10)Bath and Body Works' shea socks. Fun and funky. I know. I have a thing with the foot stuff. Which is weird, because I have a general dislike of feet. However, pregnancy has taken a vengeance on my footsies, and these things are awesome- they're super soft, have grippy things on the bottom to keep you from sliding across the kitchen on those late night pb&j runs, and are infused with shea butter that makes your feet soft and tingly. I'm not sure if the tingly part is really from the socks or just a mental thing for me, but I like it.
Well, I'm off to an indulgent evening involving men's wear and pill boxes. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!
1) My Crocs. Oh, my sweet, tacky, foamy, cozy winter Crocs. These puppies have cradled my swollen tootsies just about every day since mid-January, and I have no idea what I would do if I had to actually bend over and pull on a real pair of shoes. I can't wait to break out my spring editions next month.
2) Men's wear. At 8 months pregnant, a price cannot be placed on the value of a good pair of man pants at the end of a long day. I am currently residing in the Hubs' camo flannel pj's and his over sized rugby t-shirt, and I could not be a happier camper. Thank goodness for the men's wear.
3) I wish I could list cocoa butter, which claims to prevent the marks-that-must-not-be-named, here, but due to the recent development of what the Hubs has termed "badges of honor" on my belly, the cocoa butter and I are not on speaking terms.
4) Smoothie Berry Fusion Tums. Oh, the Tums. Saving the lives of fire-breathing dragons everywhere. The Tums have taken up residence in my purse and on my nightstand, and because of their irreplaceable heartburn fighting services, I'm not even charging rent.
5) Popsicles. All the delicious, half the calories. I could build a small cabin with the Popsicle sticks we've accumulated in the past two months around here. YUM.
6)The Boppy pregnancy wedge. I seriously think my belly would just roll right out of bed if I didn't sleep with one of these at night. Thank you, Santa Claus, for the fantastic stocking stuffer. Love it.
7)Lavender linen spray. Sweet fields of wild flowers. I spray a sizable ocean of the stuff all over my pillows and sheets before bed each night. So relaxing.
8)Bath and Body works' Tranquil Sugar Scrub in Lavender Vanilla. This stuff is incredible. Usually 20 bucks, I bought it at their semi-annual sale for 5 dolores. Rub it on the feet and arms and your limbs turn to jello. I adore this stuff after a long day of being on my feet.
9)Pill boxes. I am a fan. When I started taking my prenatal vitamins, I'd go all "oh my gosh, my baby is going to OD on iron and folic acid" while trying to figure out if I had taken one already or not. Pill boxes= stress free vitamining.
10)Bath and Body Works' shea socks. Fun and funky. I know. I have a thing with the foot stuff. Which is weird, because I have a general dislike of feet. However, pregnancy has taken a vengeance on my footsies, and these things are awesome- they're super soft, have grippy things on the bottom to keep you from sliding across the kitchen on those late night pb&j runs, and are infused with shea butter that makes your feet soft and tingly. I'm not sure if the tingly part is really from the socks or just a mental thing for me, but I like it.
Well, I'm off to an indulgent evening involving men's wear and pill boxes. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!
DIY gone wrong. So very, very wrong.
Throughout the work week, the Hubs and I exchange emails to wish one another a good day and negotiate various family plans like "What's for dinner?", or "When do you want to get groceries?" or "Please wash some clothes so I have something to wear tomorrow." Today I wrote the Hubs an email updating him on the daily happenings since I'm off work and at home "getting lots of stuff done." The definition of "getting lots of stuff done" is really in the eye of the beholder here. Today it means going to my 34 week appointment, listening to some seriously good Tim McGraw tunes while tending to the organization of the place mats, and a home improvement project.
The Hubs is not a fan of my DIY stints because it often involves a drill and lots of masking tape on our old plaster walls. I don't know why this stresses him out. Maybe something to do with the multiple holes in the wall or the thought of his woman running around the house in her PJ's with a power tool in hand. Hard to say. Anyway, bottom line is, I haven't been banished from home improvement projects, but the Hubs is not a fan and breaks out into a sweat dreading the worst any time he finds out I'm up to something. Today was one of those days when the Hubs was gone, and I broke out the drill. Here's the email:
Dear Hubs,
"Umm...how do I put this?
I tried two home improvement projects today. It appears I have lost my touch. My DIY skills have seemingly disappeared since I gained these 35 pounds, and I need a man with some muscles and some drilling abilities to come to my rescue.
The two screws. The four holes. Let's not worry about the details.
The important thing here is that there is a damsel in distress in need of a bulletin board hung in the nursery and a wooden sign hung in the stairwell. And perhaps two screws rescued from the depths of the wall because I have no idea how to get them out of the centimeter deep hole they have gorged themselves into. It may also be worthy of noting that I was relatively impressed with my own strength when both screws propelled themselves and part of the drill entirely into the plaster. Relatively impressive considering my diet and lack of physical exercise lately. Home improvement disaster or not, I'm just saying. Impressive.
Luckily, I have you. My man with muscles and drilling abilities. Unfortunately, the Saturday morning Honey Do List just got a little longer. Sorry. I tried to spare you, but there really isn't a point in me catapulting another screw into the wall. With my current track record, it may just fly clear through the kitchen and out the back door.
Please don't let this stress you out. I promise to put down the drill and back away slowly.
And I hope our Olive Garden dinner date is still on. Cuz you were lookin' good this morning, Mister.
Love,
Wifey"
The Hubs is not a fan of my DIY stints because it often involves a drill and lots of masking tape on our old plaster walls. I don't know why this stresses him out. Maybe something to do with the multiple holes in the wall or the thought of his woman running around the house in her PJ's with a power tool in hand. Hard to say. Anyway, bottom line is, I haven't been banished from home improvement projects, but the Hubs is not a fan and breaks out into a sweat dreading the worst any time he finds out I'm up to something. Today was one of those days when the Hubs was gone, and I broke out the drill. Here's the email:
Dear Hubs,
"Umm...how do I put this?
I tried two home improvement projects today. It appears I have lost my touch. My DIY skills have seemingly disappeared since I gained these 35 pounds, and I need a man with some muscles and some drilling abilities to come to my rescue.
The two screws. The four holes. Let's not worry about the details.
The important thing here is that there is a damsel in distress in need of a bulletin board hung in the nursery and a wooden sign hung in the stairwell. And perhaps two screws rescued from the depths of the wall because I have no idea how to get them out of the centimeter deep hole they have gorged themselves into. It may also be worthy of noting that I was relatively impressed with my own strength when both screws propelled themselves and part of the drill entirely into the plaster. Relatively impressive considering my diet and lack of physical exercise lately. Home improvement disaster or not, I'm just saying. Impressive.
Luckily, I have you. My man with muscles and drilling abilities. Unfortunately, the Saturday morning Honey Do List just got a little longer. Sorry. I tried to spare you, but there really isn't a point in me catapulting another screw into the wall. With my current track record, it may just fly clear through the kitchen and out the back door.
Please don't let this stress you out. I promise to put down the drill and back away slowly.
And I hope our Olive Garden dinner date is still on. Cuz you were lookin' good this morning, Mister.
Love,
Wifey"
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Go to the beach.
This week I've spent a lot of time thinking about spring and summer. We've been blessed with sunshine like we haven't seen since August, and it's been a real happy booster.
I can't wait for all the snow to melt and stay gone until November. I have plans. big plans. Big plans with my man and my baby and my dog.
Plant lots of flowers in my backyard.
Celebrate my sister's late June wedding.
Go camping up on the Lake where the Hubs and I love to spend long summer weekends.
Stay at a cottage on the Lake with my family.
Go to the beach. A lot. A whole lot.
Take Opie for various walks and hopefully burn off the winter fat rolls...his and mine. (This is a good time to note the Hubs has been working out each night since December and now weighs less than he did when we got married. He's shedding the flab and amping up the muscles, and I keep begging him to please stop and wait until after our son is born because I can't stand that Opie and I are the only ones scarfing down the calories and paying for every last one these days. He won't listen. Ugg.)
Go to the beach.
Grill out. Every night. Hamburgers, bbq chicken, corn on the cob...I can't wait.
Eat some cotton candy and a funnel cake at the summer fair.
Get bitten by mosquitoes. I actually miss them. Sick, I know. But 5 months of snow will do that to you.
Swim.
Go to the beach.
Wear flip flops.
Wear skirts.
Neglect to wear enough sunscreen.
Snap green beans on the front porch. I love doing that.
Go to the zoo.
Have a picnic.
Swing.
Go to the beach.
...I keep wondering what kind of challenges diapers and late nights will present to my spring/summer plans. I can't help but think it will just make it all the more fun. I am so excited for the coming change in seasons. I'm looking forward to moving on from being newlyweds to parents and from winter to spring. The sunshine outside is just a reminder that its right around the corner, and I just can't wait!
PS-Entirely off subject. Chili's was a massive dissapointment. The menu has taken a turn for the worse, and the Hubs and I are in agreement that if it wasn't for that perfectly minced salsa, we'd never return. Chicken Crispers- you are nothing but sorrow and crumbly fried grease to me now. Salads- go back to the shredded lettuce bag in the produce section where you belong. Corn- I have never experienced anything more mushy. In the words of one of my fave bloggers, I was chawed. Just absolutely chawed.
I can't wait for all the snow to melt and stay gone until November. I have plans. big plans. Big plans with my man and my baby and my dog.
Plant lots of flowers in my backyard.
Celebrate my sister's late June wedding.
Go camping up on the Lake where the Hubs and I love to spend long summer weekends.
Stay at a cottage on the Lake with my family.
Go to the beach. A lot. A whole lot.
Take Opie for various walks and hopefully burn off the winter fat rolls...his and mine. (This is a good time to note the Hubs has been working out each night since December and now weighs less than he did when we got married. He's shedding the flab and amping up the muscles, and I keep begging him to please stop and wait until after our son is born because I can't stand that Opie and I are the only ones scarfing down the calories and paying for every last one these days. He won't listen. Ugg.)
Go to the beach.
Grill out. Every night. Hamburgers, bbq chicken, corn on the cob...I can't wait.
Eat some cotton candy and a funnel cake at the summer fair.
Get bitten by mosquitoes. I actually miss them. Sick, I know. But 5 months of snow will do that to you.
Swim.
Go to the beach.
Wear flip flops.
Wear skirts.
Neglect to wear enough sunscreen.
Snap green beans on the front porch. I love doing that.
Go to the zoo.
Have a picnic.
Swing.
Go to the beach.
...I keep wondering what kind of challenges diapers and late nights will present to my spring/summer plans. I can't help but think it will just make it all the more fun. I am so excited for the coming change in seasons. I'm looking forward to moving on from being newlyweds to parents and from winter to spring. The sunshine outside is just a reminder that its right around the corner, and I just can't wait!
PS-Entirely off subject. Chili's was a massive dissapointment. The menu has taken a turn for the worse, and the Hubs and I are in agreement that if it wasn't for that perfectly minced salsa, we'd never return. Chicken Crispers- you are nothing but sorrow and crumbly fried grease to me now. Salads- go back to the shredded lettuce bag in the produce section where you belong. Corn- I have never experienced anything more mushy. In the words of one of my fave bloggers, I was chawed. Just absolutely chawed.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Oh, that perfectly minced salsa...who's with me?
Spontaneous trip to Chili's tonight for dinner after we realized we had only 1/2 the ingredients to make any of the items listed on the dinner menu this week (I'm blaming it on my pregnancy brain-whoops!) and the Hubs remembered we had a gift card.
Last time we ate at Chili's, I hoarded a classic fajita platter and woke up at 2 in the morning with Epic Heartburn. I swore off the bottomless chips and salsa and those delicious jitas for the rest of my pregnancy.
Tonight, however, I'm willing to take the hit.
The Hubs replenished my Tums inventory while he was at the grocery store last night, and I figure when we have a little man squirming around here we're not going to be able to pack up and run to Chili's for dinner just because.
So tonight we are. Just because.
And I fully intend to make it back in time for American Idol. I'm counting on redemption for the show tonight. So far: not impressed and seriously considering dumping it for the season and switching back to my love of The Biggest Loser, despite the blow to my ego that show is sure to slam me with based on my current weight gain/8 months pregnant situation.
So to recap, we're looking for American Idol redemption. And some Tums.
Happy Tuesday!
Last time we ate at Chili's, I hoarded a classic fajita platter and woke up at 2 in the morning with Epic Heartburn. I swore off the bottomless chips and salsa and those delicious jitas for the rest of my pregnancy.
Tonight, however, I'm willing to take the hit.
The Hubs replenished my Tums inventory while he was at the grocery store last night, and I figure when we have a little man squirming around here we're not going to be able to pack up and run to Chili's for dinner just because.
So tonight we are. Just because.
And I fully intend to make it back in time for American Idol. I'm counting on redemption for the show tonight. So far: not impressed and seriously considering dumping it for the season and switching back to my love of The Biggest Loser, despite the blow to my ego that show is sure to slam me with based on my current weight gain/8 months pregnant situation.
So to recap, we're looking for American Idol redemption. And some Tums.
Happy Tuesday!
Monday, March 1, 2010
Portrait of a Hero Husband
-Forfeits his warm-up run to go on a walk and enjoy the chilly sunshine with his wife and insane puggle.
-Puts off his workout even longer to help me give Opie a bath...and even carries the sopping wet puppy downstairs to dry off so the little fur ball doesn't run around upstairs soaking everything in sight.
-Declares the spaghetti pie I made worthy of the Dinner Rotation List ("Put this on your list, Honey!") regardless of the cheese on top, so badly burned that it had to be lifted off like a piece of sheet rock before we could dig in.
-Offers to make our weekly grocery run solo at 8 pm tonight so I can shower, rest, and prop my feet-of-recent-near-cankle-status up.
-Waits patiently as I walk him through each item on the grocery list, explaining which brand and how much- even though he's always with me when we go grocery shopping and he knows exactly what to get.
-Smiles and promises to oblige when I point to "Popsicles" on the list and explain, "I want something with lots of red and purple in it. But it can be different than the ones we had last week. Something you like too. But still yummy. And not as fatty as ice cream so I don't feel as guilty."
-Before leaving for the store, gives me a kiss and promises to be home in time for 24.
-Looks up from his video game to tell me I'm beautiful despite the ** extra pounds that are forcing me to waddle my way through the world lately. (Please note: I am officially ignorant to how much I've actually gained since I became pregnant. Ha! I'm just planning on adding it all up in the end- kind of like a surprise. =] I gave up keeping track of how much I gained after February hit and I fell in love with Dairy Queen all over again. At this point, I'm just counting on my OB to tell me whether I am in the clear or if I need to send in an audition tape to The Biggest Loser.=])
He's really bit the bullet for me today.
My man is such a stud.
-Puts off his workout even longer to help me give Opie a bath...and even carries the sopping wet puppy downstairs to dry off so the little fur ball doesn't run around upstairs soaking everything in sight.
-Declares the spaghetti pie I made worthy of the Dinner Rotation List ("Put this on your list, Honey!") regardless of the cheese on top, so badly burned that it had to be lifted off like a piece of sheet rock before we could dig in.
-Offers to make our weekly grocery run solo at 8 pm tonight so I can shower, rest, and prop my feet-of-recent-near-cankle-status up.
-Waits patiently as I walk him through each item on the grocery list, explaining which brand and how much- even though he's always with me when we go grocery shopping and he knows exactly what to get.
-Smiles and promises to oblige when I point to "Popsicles" on the list and explain, "I want something with lots of red and purple in it. But it can be different than the ones we had last week. Something you like too. But still yummy. And not as fatty as ice cream so I don't feel as guilty."
-Before leaving for the store, gives me a kiss and promises to be home in time for 24.
-Looks up from his video game to tell me I'm beautiful despite the ** extra pounds that are forcing me to waddle my way through the world lately. (Please note: I am officially ignorant to how much I've actually gained since I became pregnant. Ha! I'm just planning on adding it all up in the end- kind of like a surprise. =] I gave up keeping track of how much I gained after February hit and I fell in love with Dairy Queen all over again. At this point, I'm just counting on my OB to tell me whether I am in the clear or if I need to send in an audition tape to The Biggest Loser.=])
He's really bit the bullet for me today.
My man is such a stud.
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