My Most Embarrassing Moment

The following details a series of unfortunate events that led to my most embarrassing moment ever. Well, second most embarrassing moment ever if you count the time I wet my new sleeping bag at my friend's house and the dye from said sleeping bag bled and stained their carpet, resulting in a huge teal splat in the middle of their living room floor. Anyway, back to the series of unfortunate events:

This weekend we went down to Indiana to visit some good friends of ours. Not unfortunate. We love spending time with "Shrek and Fiona" (well earned nicknames!) We had a blast seeing their new house and enjoying a ridiculously good breakfast Saturday morning. They made Belgian waffles with bacon, and we ate more than our fair share.

Unfortunate: There was bacon involved. You know that bacon smell that gets all over the house and clings to anything within a 20 mile radius- hair, clothes, suitcases, blankets, one's only two pairs of maternity jeans? Yep. That bacon smell rode with us all the way back home.

When we got up to go to church this morning, I realized that both pairs of my jeans were coated in "bacon" and there was no way I could venture out of the house smelling like a greased and fried pig. I improvised and put on a pair of less-than-comfortable corduroys and headed out the door.

Since the cords were less than comfortable, I changed into my velour suit when we got home from church.

When we left for the grocery store tonight, I opted to forgo the uncomfortable cords and stick with the velour. After all, who doesn't want to be cozy when picking out their preferred size box of Lucky Charms?

So we're at the grocery store, and I'm walking around in my velour. Unfortunate. It is important to note that the Hubs is not a fan of me venturing out to the grocery store in pajama-like lounge wear based on his argument that "Honey, you just never know who you might run into, and are you sure you want to see them in your pajamas?" I have given up trying to explain to him the different between pajamas and velour. They are simply not the same thing. But I pick my battles around here. Lucky for me, since I've gained the weight of an elephant in the past 6 months, he's backed off the "put some real clothes on" train and is just happy to see me off the couch without a bowl of ice cream in my hands.

So there we were in the middle of the refrigerated section on a surprisingly busy Sunday evening at the grocery store. There were people all over the place, but I held my head high and had no shame in my choice of attire because for crying out loud I'm pregnant and my jeans smell like stinking bacon. And, additionally, velour is not pajama apparel.

At least, I held my head high until I reached for a block of cheese and heard through the mob of people standing in the refrigerated aisle, a young voice, ringing out over all the others, clear as a bell, saying:

"Look, Momma! That lady is in her pajamas!!!"

Are. You. Serious?!? Time slowed down.....My legs got heavy....My cheeks got hot. I vaguely remember thinking "all this time, I should have just listened to the Hubs, for now I suffer the wrath and judgement of a 3 year old sitting in the child seat of a grocery cart" before looking up to see a mom standing next to her cart, dumbfounded by her son's statement, surveying me up and down trying to explain in a jumble of words that the lady was actually wearing a "jumpsuit."

I didn't want to get into a conversation about the difference between pajamas, jump suits, and velour suits. Because, frankly, there is a difference, but me and my Sharp Cheddar Cheese block were in no mood to try and explain away the issue.

Again, choosing my battles. Except this time, with a grocery shopping mom and her 3 year old son.

So I simply said, "No, no. He's right!"

And then, as if to take pleasure in my own humiliation I reason, "But it's OK for pregnant ladies to shop in their pajamas, right?!?"

Oh, have mercy.

The lady laughed, tossed around a "from the mouths of babes" line and told me that now I knew what I had to look forward to.

To which I thought, "Bo-stinkin'-logna! My son is going to know the difference between pajamas and a velour suit by the time he's three, dangit."

Mortified and frustrated that the world around me seems to misunderstand the pajama/velour issue, I rushed out of the aisle ahead of the hubby, and when we finally made it to the frozen dessert section I looked over to see him laughing his stinking head off. Because I had it coming. And because he told me so.

I told him he was enjoying himself entirely too much. And then I grabbed a huge box of popsicles and hauled my veloured self over to the register so I could get the heck out of dodge and back to the couch where I belong.

The hubby is still laughing. We'll see who's laughing when it's him that has to buy groceries from now on since I've been traumatized for life.

At least I got my Lucky Charms.

=)

I love a good Friday night and the anticipation of a fun weekend.



Adios!

Haiti

As I watched the news last night, it dawned on me that most of the pictures I posted from our cruise on Tuesday were taken in Haiti. The portion of the island we saw was gorgeous- it's overwhelming to think we were just there a few months ago. My heart is heavy for the people of Haiti this week. The Hubs and I are big fans of Compassion International, and I was excited to find that they've made donating to the relief in Haiti as easy as texting. It's a blessing to be able to do something rather than just sit back and watch the images pour in over the television screen.

(Text “disaster” to 90999 to donate $10.00 to Compassion International)

Tonight

Pregnancy Update: Week 26 Edition

So I'm at a point in my pregnancy I'd like to coin "FrEaKiNg OuT Mode," and I figure it's time for a preggo update...although I'm not sure I have any recent pictures of my belly since sometimes the last thing I want to do is photograph the very thing that has caused me to cut the elastic out of all my favorite Eddie Bauer flannel pajama pants. I'm just saying. I loved those pants.

So here's the update, in the form of a numbered list detailing the stream of consciousness I've experienced lately regarding my pregnancy:

1) I feel so blessed to have the opportunity to enjoy pregnancy, and I cannot wait to meet this little guy! I think he's going to be really cute. And really cuddly. And that makes me smile.

2) Yesterday it dawned on me that I am only TWO AND A HALF months away from giving birth to this little dude. Two and a half months. That is shorter than summer. I stared at the Hubs in shock when I revealed this news, and he just looked excited. I almost wet my pants. Because I have no idea how to give birth, and all those years of watching TLC's A Baby Story in middle school are of no comfort to me now.

3) Fortunately, we start our childbirth prep classes tonight, and I'm hoping they tell me everything I need to know about what's going to happen 2 1/2 months from now. The weird part is, we have to bring our insurance card, a pillow, and a blanket. A pillow and a blanket? If they're going to make me lie down on some nasty tile floor in the middle of a hospital classroom, I'm going to have to bring some Clorox wipes and hand sanitizer too. And if you know me well, you know I'm not joking. And I'm not.

4)I keep thinking about that sweet little baby boy and what he will be like as a newborn. I'm convinced he's going to have his daddy's hair and eyes, which I'm totally ok with, seeing as how I think his daddy has the most handsome hair and eyes in the entire world.



OK, so there's not a lot of hair there, but I'm just saying. I also keep thinking about how fast newborns turn into big, sturdy babies, and how fast those babies turn into rolling crawling babies, and how fast those babies turn into walking, running babies, and how fast those babies turn into little kids who don't like to take naps and can understand what you and your husband are spelling out to one another across the kitchen table, and I am committed to relishing every minute I have with this little guy because I know he won't be little for long. Like that book called "Let me Hold you Longer"...have mercy, I cry almost every time I read that book. I'm going to soak up every minute I have with my little man, except for maybe passing a few dirty diapers on to his daddy because I woman can only handle so many dirty diapers in one day.

5) Hokey Pete, am I ever hungry. Like right now. But also all other times of the day. Last night, in an effort to really impress the hubs, I made meatloaf and mashed potatoes and green beans. The hubs went back for thirds. I had seconds, and then proceeded to bake and eat 3 brownies and a bowl full of Frosted Mini Wheats. And I was still hungry. Are you kidding me?!? This diet is NOT going to help me in the post-pregnancy summer swimsuit hunt, folks. Not at all.

6) To make matters worse, as I was sitting there downing my 6th meal of the evening in front of the TV watching American Idol with the hubs, I began scrutinizing guest judge Posh Spice's neck. Her neck. What the heck? But I was. She has a very defined neck and jaw line, that lady. I can tell this pregnancy weight gain is getting to me, because the next thing out of my mouth was "She's just so...skinny! It looks like you could just put her over your knee and snap her in half." And the worst part is, because she is just so skinny, while I sat there stuffing my face with those Mini Wheats, I kinda did want to just put her over my knee and snap her in half. Only a little bit though. Just a little. And the hubby looked at me and laughed. Really hard. And said I should blog about my feelings towards Posh on American Idol and her little neck. And I decided I would. And then the moment passed, and I went back to my cereal.



7)But I mean, seriously. Look at that neck.

8)Today I have to go up to the lab at my OB's and get a glucose test, which means I drink a lot of orange flavored sugar and then wait for an hour reading germy lobby magazines and then go back to get my blood drawn. It's actually a momentous occasion for me, because it's the first time I'm being a big girl and going to the office without moral support in the form of the Hubs or my sister or my mom. So hopefully I can handle it. We'll see.

9) Next week I venture to my OB's for my last 4 week appointment...I'll be heading in every 2 weeks after that because, folks, it's almost game time. And we could use all the help we can get.

10) Last but not least, I can't possibly do a pregnancy update without bragging on my ridiculously wonderful husband. The Hubs has been amazing since day one when I told him we were pregnant to day 16 when we crawled onto a cruise ship despite my morning sickness and sailed through the Caribbean for 7 days and nights with me complaining about smells and food and the way the sun was hitting my face, to making me pb&j's after we've already crawled into bed, to double checking to make sure I turned off the stove after we've already crawled into bed, to letting me take naps every Sunday afternoon...and Saturday afternoon...and Friday afternoon..., to now when he reassures me that everything is going to be OK two and a half months from now and I can do it. Sigh. He is my hero. And he's not too shabby lookin' either.

So that's about where I stand at week 26, going on 27 with my pregnancy. Freaking out because its getting so close, going a little nuts because how the heck will I ever fit back into any of my clothes, and thanking the Lord for this incredibly opportunity to enter into the world of parenthood.

Now I'm off to do some laundry. Believe it or not, I am almost all caught up, and will post pictures as soon as that mountain has been climbed. I know, I've said it before. But this time it's true. I think it has something to do with the fact that this baby is going to be here in two and half months whether I'm ready or not...nesting, anyone?!

That tree.

On this chilly January Tuesday, I am missing

That beach. And those sunglasses. And those tans.


That water.


Those fancy dinners. And that charming smile.


That free and unlimited soft serve ice cream. Have mercy.


Did I mention that tan? Where, oh where, did those tans go?


That pirate. Not really. Well, a little.


That gorgeous island.


That boat.


That sunscreen.


Those chairs.


That endless breakfast buffet. Sweet goodness, where are you now?

Those sunsets.


That view.


That tree.


Ok. That was just the right amount of torture and therapy that I needed this morning. Now off to let the dog out in sub zero temperatures.

Don't tell your Dad.

Oh, is he not suppose to be up on the furniture?

Oops...



But just look at those eyes...



They could get away with anything.

It's even worse when I remember the day we got him...



Melt my heart, sweet little puppy...



Go ahead, teeny fuzz ball...



Do whatever you want.



Yeah, that's ok too.



...just don't tell your dad. ;)