My friend Amy turned as old as dirt today… she’s now my age again after being younger than me for a whole twelve days. We celebrated with a trip to our local hibachi restaurant for lunch. Ollie & Finn loved it, ate their weight in edamame, and were chopstick champs. Happy Birthday Amy… your present is that the boys behaved and we didn’t get the gong announcing your birthday.
There are eight and a half weeks left.
I just realized that I don’t have even one single diaper in the house.
No baby wash. Nothing laundered. I haven’t bought a swing. I haven’t scrubbed down her co-sleeper and washed all of the soft parts. I haven’t gone through Finn’s old clothes to see what I can use for her. I don’t know if I remember where the swaddle blankets even are or if we have them anymore. I need to find the Moby wrap too.
I do have just a couple bottles because I ran out in an absolute panic and bought them on Tuesday. Just in case.
I need a couple nursing bras too, soothies, oh and at least another nightgown for the hospital.
I haven’t even verified that her infant car seat hasn’t expired, I think hope we’re ok because we only bought it four years ago.
I haven’t talked to the amazing women that I am intending on asking begging for a guest post.
I need to set up a hair appointment, pre-natal massage, brow wax and pedicure.
Remember when we were going to be proactive about her name? Yep, nothing.
My belly has grown exponentially overnight people. I am not sure where it came from. {Coincidentally, it has squished my bladder to the size of a pea.} That big belly is making things very real, very quickly and panic has set in. I have also gained two pounds overnight… I’m blaming that salty Easter ham rather than the birthday cake.
It’s kind of all rendering me stupified {Harry Potter anyone?} instead of kicking me into gear.
Panic. Fear.
Completely and utterly overwhelmed.
I’m not sure where to even start so I called my Janet and she’s going to help me figure out a plan and do some shopping this weekend. Mamas are good at putting everything in perspective and helping you take just a step at a time.
WTF am I doing aside from hyperventilating and pretending I still have six more months to go?? Eating deviled eggs, having lunch with my friends, reading The Paris Wife, and wondering if wanting to go see the Disney PROM movie makes me a weirdo.
Please just lie to me and say that you want to see it too.
On a Thursday morning, May 27 of last year, I sat in my car crying. Sobbing uncontrollably really, if we’re being honest.
My sister was watching Finnegan for me and I had my egg follicle check ultrasound. For those of you who are on, or have been on this heart wrenching journey called infertility, you know that pain of seeing empty ovaries on that black and white screen. It was my third cycle, spread over five months, of seeing an empty screen.
My doctor and I both knew that didn’t look good, she called me into her office and told me as gently as possible that if I wanted to get pregnant, it would mean seeing someone else. Stronger drugs than what she was comfortable with. A specialist. We were lucky, if you can ever call infertility lucky, that Finnegan was conceived with Clomid and we didn’t have to go to the fertility clinic.
What made it more painful? It seems that with secondary infertility, you get the added bonus of “maybe you should just be happy that you have one,” thoughts. Sometimes people don’t even say it, but you can tell it’s what they are thinking. Why would you go through all of this? Maybe it’s not meant to be. Maybe you should just be ok with what you were given. It certainly wouldn’t be something you would ever say to someone trying for the first time, but it seems that it’s just fine to say if you’ve already got one child at home. I’m here to say that when your family isn’t complete, whether you have five kids or none… it isn’t complete, and the pain of seeing a negative pregnancy test is just as raw and hurtful as it was the first time.
There would be five more months of fertility drugs coming, of giving myself shots in the stomach until it was bruised, and so much blood drawn that I would feel like a pin cushion. The ultrasounds, the frustration, the missed opportunities, the waiting, the disappointment, those would all be there in full force too. The loneliness, realizing when I did get pregnant that a burst ovarian cyst was making me bleed uncontrollably internally, an ambulance ride, three days in the hospital, two months of recovery and on and on. You know how we got to tell my dad and in laws that we were pregnant this time? My husband got to call them, scared shitless from the ER, when he wasn’t sure if I was going to bleed out or not, to tell them just in case. There were no happy cards or ultrasound pictures left out for them to find this time.
It has been a tough road.
I didn’t know any of the journey that was to come that morning of May 27 sitting in my car, nor the pure joy of knowing that our sweet girl was coming to us. I just got in the car and sobbed great big hiccupping awful sobs. When I finally composed myself to drive home & turned on the car, the radio started Just Haven’t Met You Yet.
I'm not surprised, not everything lasts
I've broken my heart so many times, I stopped keeping track
Talk myself in, I talk myself out
I get all worked up, then I let myself downI tried so very hard not to lose it
I came up with a million excuses
I thought, I thought of every possibility
And I know someday that it'll all turn out
You'll make me work, so we can work to work it out
And I promise you, kid, that I give so much more than I get
I just haven't met you yetI might have to wait, I'll never give up
I guess it's half timing, and the other half's luck
Wherever you are, whenever it's right
You'll come out of nowhere and into my lifeAnd I know that we can be so amazing
And, baby, your love is gonna change me
And now I can see every possibilityAnd somehow I know that it'll all turn out
You'll make me work, so we can work to work it out
And I promise you, kid, I give so much more than I get
I just haven't met you yetThey say all's fair
In love and war
But I won't need to fight it
We'll get it right and we'll be unitedAnd I know that we can be so amazing
And being in your life is gonna change me
And now I can see every single possibilityAnd someday I know it'll all turn out
And I'll work to work it out
Promise you, kid, I'll give more than I get
Than I get, than I get, than I getOh, you know it'll all turn out
And you'll make me work so we can work to work it out
And I promise you kid to give so much more than I get
Yeah, I just haven't met you yet
I just haven't met you yetOh, promise you, kid
To give so much more than I getI said love, love, love, love
Love, love, love, love
(I just haven't met you yet)
Love, love, love, love
Love, love
I just haven't met you yet
And I knew. Right then. No matter where the infertility journey took us this time, whether it meant me getting pregnant, adoption or surrogacy, that when it was right, it would happen. It certainly didn’t take away the pain, but in all of those months, it seems like every moment that I needed a little nudge or a reminder, I would hear this song on the radio. I heard it in the car on the way home from the hospital in November. I heard it just after I found out she was a girl. Every time it reduced me to tears and still does, even more so now than ever.
Tuesday June 7, just one year and a few days after crying in my car, my baby girl and I will be sitting at a Michael Buble concert listening to him belt it out live. She’ll make her arrival a month after that. I can not express to you how heart wrenching and painful this last year has been, but I am thankful. So thankful. For her. For my husband. For Finn. Even for the journey as hard as some of it has been. But mostly, for listening to what the universe was telling me and knowing a year ago that it would all turn out.
I hope if you’re on this shitty awful journey right now, that you know you are not alone. It sucks. It hurts. And I want nothing more than for it to all turn out for you too, whether it’s your first or your second or your fifth.
This year we decided {mostly because the house is a construction zone and I am a million weeks pregnant} to celebrate Finn’s birthday on Easter with our families and invite just a few friends to join us for lunch and a movie to celebrate with his friends. Since it fell on a Saturday, it was easy to stretch the celebration through the entire weekend.
He had breakfast with Gigi & Annie at his favorite diner {with his favorite waitress} on Friday. Then, his friends Hannah, Sophie, Wyatt, and Tilly surprised him with a birthday banner and celebrated with lunch & cupcakes.
Then came lunch with his best buddies & the movie Rio. {Miss Annabelle, we hope you’re feeling better, we missed you!}
Sunday brought an egg hunt with his cousins and an Oreo cake. Then, dinner at Oma’s and an Easter bunny cake from Grandma... he was unfortunately all cake'd out by then and just stole a licorice whisker or two.
Hopefully your weekend was just as fun!
Hopefully the bunny made a stop at your house in the wee hours of the morning, leaving hidden eggs and filling baskets in your house. We use the same basket year after year, Finn leaves it empty on the fireplace in the hopes that he’ll have treasures to find in the morning. After Easter, we pack it and the plastic eggs away for another year. Hopefully the bunny will be able to find a similar one for his baby sister next year, or even better at an after Easter clearance sale.
That bunny is a thrifty one.
I hope however you celebrate Easter, that your day is filled with some wonderful family time.
Today Finnegan James, you are four years old. I am not sure where the time went or how you went from being a baby to a boy overnight. Frankly, I’d like it if you slowed down a bit and allowed me to be your Mama just a little longer.
You’ve become more and more independent every day. My shy boy is gone and in his place is an outgoing, Spiderman loving, silly boy that is quick to make friends. We went to the dentist last week and you walked back to the chair, hopped up into it, had a conversation with the hygienist and made funny faces into the camera without so much as a second look to see if I was there. It was a proud and shocking moment for me.
You have been writing your own name for months, but now you’ve added Mom and Dad, plus Monty and Dexter when we spell them for you. You LOVE playing PBS Kids games on the computer and somehow figured out how to give yourself a user id, Finn473. We are pretty sure that you’re an evil computer genius like your daddy. You’re counting objects to twelve, and to nineteen object-less... twenty somehow doesn’t exist in your world anymore. Your daddy reads books to you every night and your favorites are anything Spiderman or Biscuit, as well as Cars Get In Gear, Dinah the Cat, and Submarine Sam. You don’t watch much tv, but when you do, you love Scooby Doo {at Gigi’s house}, Spiderman {on Netflix}, Curious George, and Clifford. Your newest thing is running out to the kitchen in the morning to tell us what time it is. You love Hi Ho Cherry O, Memory, and we play more tic tac toe than is probably ‘normal’… you’re obsessed with winning and when we catch you cheating we call you out on it.
We’re working on the frustration you feel when you lose and being kind to those you’re playing with when you win. You’re mostly a happy fun boy, but you have quite the fiery personality when things don’t go your way. Daddy and I don’t put up with much of that and you get marched to your room until you calm down enough to talk to us nicely. It seems like day by day you’re more and more headstrong about your opinions, but you’re learning to solve things diplomatically. You are also trying to ‘negotiate’ getting your way which we find endlessly entertaining.
According to you…
Your favorite color is red, blue, and black. Spiderman colors.
Your favorite drink is apple juice because it’s sweet and yummy and delicious.
Your favorite food according to you is, “junk which means candy” but, I’ve noticed that you really seem to love watermelon, guacamole, Mini Wheat cereal, and mac n cheese too.
Your favorite movie is Cars.
Your favorite song is Spiderman and Frosty the Snowman. {And you sing This Old Man about 283820 times a day.}
You also wanted me to note that you love everything that is Spiderman… {I’m pretty sure that came through loud and clear my sweet bug.}
Daddy and I could not be more proud to be your parents and to see what the coming years will bring. We love you more than words can express Finna. Happy Fourth Birthday!
Our first egg coloring experience was a success. Next time we’re going to try the rubber band trick to make cool designs and some double dipping, but for now we stuck to crayons and single dips. The boys had an absolute blast, even little Colin got in on the action.
Guess what we’re doing tomorrow?
It’ll be the first time that we’ve colored eggs with Finn. Does that make me the worst mom in the world? I kind of feel like maybe I am. Coloring eggs is a messy, messy job and then you’re left with a dozen eggs to eat. I’m more of the plastic eggs hidden and filled kind of mom.
But we’re venturing forward. I have crayons. I have eggs. I have cups for coloring.
Now that I think about it, deviled eggs sound kind of good. Stinking pregnancy cravings.
I found a great tutorial on how to perfectly boil eggs. There is an art to it you know.
I am also tearing my way through this. I found Matt’s blog three years ago. Is anyone else reading it?
This morning, we woke up to a 60 degree house. Finn shuffled the 6 inches from his bed into ours to snuggle up with me and we both were talking about how cold it was, neither one of us wanting to actually get out of bed.
Mornings are my favorites with him. He sleepy talks about the funniest things. We have conversations about Spiderman, his soon to be arriving baby sister, and his new favorite are jokes.
Just ask him to tell you a joke. If it’s a knock knock you’re screwed because they don’t make any sense, but he does have a couple that are genuinely funny.
When we finally ventured out to find out why it was so cold, there was a little love note from Dave saying that the furnace was screwed up. JUST what you want for a Tuesday morning. I called him at work.
He assured me that the furnace guy would be here at 9:30 and he was on his way home. I explained to him that I was going to jump in the shower and he said that was fine, he’d be home in a sec and I could just hide out and shower while the guy was there.
Luckily, I sat down to check my morning email because next thing I know I see a van pulling into the driveway and I sprint through the house to find something other than a robe to wear. I’m sure that 60 year old furnace guy would love to see a robe wearing otherwise naked pregnant lady answer the door right? The dog is barking. Finn Spiderman is yelling about his Spidey senses going off.
Dave? Nowhere to be found, of course.
Thankfully, the furnace is fixed, my fingers and toes are almost thawed. And that, my sweet friends, is my Tuesday morning.
How is yours?
This is what thirty-five looks like. {It is also what 29 weeks pregnant looks like.}
I thought it would feel somehow older, more mature at the very least. Thirty-five seemed ancient when I was eighteen.
I now realize how incredibly stupid I was at age eighteen and it amuses me.
This is probably the most content I’ve ever been in my life.
I am happy, really happy.
And that, my friends, is saying a lot.
I know just who I am as a person. And I like that girl woman. All of her.
Part of the plan for me, it’s the journey… at twenty-five or even thirty, I still hadn’t figured that out. I wanted to know where I would end up, where I would go to college, who I would end up with, what I would be doing, what my life would be like, would I have kids, and on and on. I wish I hadn’t wished away some of those years for the next step because the next step, it’s coming {it really is and it always does} so enjoy the step you’re on while you’ve got it. I’m ok now with learning what the next fifty years will bring as it comes.
Right now, I am here, right in the moment. There is my Davester and a marriage {and a friendship} that I only could have imagined. Finn, my funny little partner in crime and the sweet baby girl on the way. Monty Poodle and Dexter, this family wouldn’t be complete without them. There is my incredibly supportive family who has seen me through all thirty-five years, hugs me tightly and still loves me despite my teen years. There are friends old and new, who make me laugh and lift me up. And there are all of you who keep me endlessly entertained and who I love talking to daily.
Right here, is thirty-five.
It feels good.
This is an open commentary to you, oh makers and sellers of plus size maternity wear.
Please, for the love of God, start making maternity clothing for plus{ish} size women that don’t suck.
I don’t want to wear a tent. I don’t want to wear a mumu. I don’t want to wear ugly shit with spangly crap, glitter, hideous ugly prints, OR obnoxiously bright colors. There is no reason for a woman in her 7th or 8th or 9th month to wear a BRIGHT yellow shirt, she will look and feel like a school bus. I want to wear what you sell to normal women, in a bigger size.
I also don’t want to resort to buying everything online because that frankly sucks.
I get that my problem lies in the fact that I wear an XL or XXL in ‘normal’ clothes. I wear a size 16/18/20 depending on the item. Apparently, with a few exceptions that I will talk about in just a minute, if you are not a Small, Medium, or Large, you get the ugly stuff… if you get anything at all. And for the record, some of my ‘normal’ friends bitch about your in store selections as well.
I would also like to know why the makers of Spanx and Blanqi make shapewear for sizes Small, Medium, and Large and NOT for the women who might benefit from some shapewear? Spanx makes it for regular plus size women, why not the pregnant version of us? And to be fair, Spanx does go to an XL size, but this pregnant belly was not getting into it. Blanqi doesn’t make anything for you if you’re bigger than a twelve, I’m not even kidding. The fact that they offer an X-Small size and not an X-Large size pisses me off so much that I am not even compelled to link to them. What size 2 girl needs a body shaper?
What started this rant? Today I went to Destination Maternity. An entire store filled with maternity clothes. Do you know that the XL in the store is very tiny {akin to someone who wears a large in normal clothes and might need to size up for a baby bump} and that their selection of plus size clothes was probably pretty near to 5% of the store’s inventory. Not a dress in sight. Two swimsuits. Truly hideous clothes in comparison to their regular items. Abysmal selection. I will, in fact, give them props though for being the only place that I have found plus size {meaning actual plus 1x, 2x, 3x, etc…} maternity nylons in the entire city and the fact that they also carry underwear for the big girls as well.
Not to be left out, I also went to JC Penney whose XL size would have actually fit me except for the fact that there was only one wall of maternity clothes and 60% of that was t-shirts. ONE wall and two uprights, in an entire JC Penney shoved in a corner randomly with the plus size clothes, for a maternity section… still not a ‘plus size’ maternity section mind you.
I guess that’s better than Dillard’s who doesn’t have a maternity section at all.
Target {smartly} carries sizes to XXL which is great for me for later in the pregnancy. Fabulous! My only gripe with you Target is WHAT happened to your maternity section? When I was pregnant with Finn I could run to Target and find tons of cute clothes and now, I’m lucky to find anything at all in the six racks of clothes that are at my Target store, though their selection online is pretty good. I did find a great tankini and their basic t’s can not be beat… plus {and this is a big bonus} I didn’t have to pay a crazy amount to bring them home. Thank you Liz Lange. I also love that they carry BeBand in XL at my local store.
Old Navy is by far my favorite for maternity clothes. My local store carries maternity also, but it has gone the way of Target in terms of selection… what once was an entire section is now, sadly, a few uprights stuck in the middle of an aisle. In store you can only buy up to XL, which is fine for now, stinks for later. I am pleasantly surprised that I could buy jeans {size 18} in store, the full panel denim leggings {look and feel like jeans, not jeggings} have been the BEST maternity item I have purchased by far. They hug my bump tightly, don’t have to be pulled up every 10 seconds, and are so comfortable. My second favorite maternity item? The jersey stretch tank, layers just right, comes in tons of colors, and looks seamless. All of their ‘regular’ size maternity clothes go to size 18 and XXL which means that I can order ANYTHING I want from their maternity selection. Choices! I have choices! But again, I have to order that stuff online which means I’m screwed for that birthday dinner tomorrow night.
We will see if I fare any better at Kohls or Macy’s, but I am not holding my breath.
That is my excuse for not posting.
I’m tired and soon to be old. Or maybe I’m already old and living in denial.
Either way.
This week is chock full o’ stuff to do. Including but not limited to: an OB appointment for me, dentist appointments for Finn and me, lots of work on our bedroom {we have progress! and paint!}, closet planning, two lunches out, catching up on thank you notes, four dinners out, a pedicure, swim lessons, finding shoes for Finn, searching frantically for something {or two} for me to wear out that won’t make me cry looking in the mirror, a park visit, a birthday… 35 where the hell did you come from, and more stuff that I can’t remember because I’m too lazy to get off my ass and find my calendar.
Incidentally, I am really that old school. I have a date book because I forget everything unless I write it down and can refer back to it on an actual page with a date on it.
I even write down questions I need to ask people, like my OB… Can I go to concerts in my third trimester? Like the night before my c-section can I possibly drive an hour and a half to see U2 with my husband because nearly a year and a half ago we paid an OBSCENE amount of cash to sit practically on Bono’s lap and I really don’t want my mom and sister to go?
Dr A often looks at me funny and keeps it to herself that I belong in a mental institution. She pretty much rocks.
Where was I?
Yes, yes. Losing my mind.
On top of all that craziness I have yet to plan a party for Finnegan. His birthday is a week and a half away. I seriously hope he remembers the Cars party and the Seuss party because dude… I’ve got nothin’. He wants Spiderman so I bought a few Spidey trinkets and we were intending on having 5 of his buddies over for a superhero pizza lunch. Since my dining room is currently housing ALL of the contents of our bedroom, minus our mattress, AND I have a blatant refusal to spend even a dime at Chuck E Cheese or the like, I am left a bit with a dumb look on my face and no plan. So I’ve got that going for me, eh?
So, um, how is your week going?
Friday the nurse called me and told me that my glucose test numbers, “could not have been more perfect.” Not only that, but they are nearly identical to the early test. YAY for small miracles and quick test results. We’re still keeping a close eye out in case I start gaining weirdly, but so far so good. I’ve hit the 28 week mark!
Today, it’s supposed to be in the low 80s and gorgeous. We’re taking advantage of the weather and getting out to enjoy it. Even Dave, who has been working like a crazy man on our bedroom. {I swear I have the hardest working husband on the planet some days.} I hope it is as beautiful where you live.
Happy Sunday!
Last night Dave and Finn began the battle of dinnertime. At our house, we have a little issue with Finn wanting attention and Dave wanting to relax and that clash nearly happens every day around oh, dinnertime. It makes for pleasant evenings, let me tell you. On top of all that, Finn has swimming lessons on Wednesday nights so he really needs to sit down, eat, and move along to the pool. It inevitably ends in tears, or yelling, or both. Last night it ended in Finn shouting that he was going to THROW UP, but he didn’t and the pasta was gone so all’s well that ends well.
Are we the only ones or does this battle happen in your house too? Please say we’re not the only ones.
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This morning, I get the bonus of taking my three hour gestational diabetes test. I started out my 12 ish hour fast with finishing up the rest of my Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch, so you know if I fail it, at least I went down shaking my fist at the man. Lucky girl that I am, I’ve already taken it once early in my pregnancy {perfect numbers} and my doc is dispensing with the one hour and just going right for the good stuff. She is {rightly} wanting to compare the numbers from my previous test to now just to make sure it’s not trending that way.
Send some good vibes that I don’t pass out from the sugar shakes in the lab. There has GOT to be a more humane way to treat pregnant women than disgusting flat orange soda and needle sticks.
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Provided I’m not totally sick from the glucose test, tonight I get to go out to an amazing early birthday celebration with my mom and Annie. I may even put on a dress, just because nothing fits I can, but that would mean needing to shave my legs, so maybe not. Kidless. Husbandless. Just the three of us at an unbelievable restaurant that serves amazing meals and incredibly decadent desserts.
I really freaking miss pinot noir. Fancy dinners make me miss it even more.
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My current dilemma is what to do when I’m on maternity leave from this space. Of course I can’t quit you guys cold turkey, so I’ll probably try to write a “live” post once a week plus have some posts scheduled. I was thinking about asking some of my favorites to fill in with a guest post. If you’re a blogger, how did you handle your maternity leave? Do you want to see some guest posts?
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There is some great writing out there people. It is one of my favorite things to discover new {to me} blogs that I can’t believe I missed. I’m going to try to start posting things that touch me, make me laugh, & things I find clever regularly on my Facebook page and promoting these awesome sauce peeps. If you’re not hanging out with us over there, come say hi and if there is someone you absolutely adore, please leave a link in the comments so I can check them out. And BE SURE if have a blog Facebook page to let me know so I can add it to my ‘likes’ so I can promote you too. Got it? Good.
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He was trying to convince me that his goggles from last year were perfect, so he suctioned them on his face so hard that his eye went wonky and his ears & cheeks were sticking out at odd angles. How can you say no after that? He looks like a crazy old man.
It started Monday night really. Well, if I am being totally honest, it started Sunday night. I somehow got sucked into reading a book, coupled with the fact that I had taken a nap Sunday afternoon I was just not tired. So I stayed up reading. Until 5:30 am Monday morning.
Stupid move Michelle? Mild understatement.
I then proceeded to get 3 hours of sleep nap before Finn was up and moving.
So Monday night, I decided to take a Tylenol PM {and yes, before I get 35 emails chastising me, my OB is absolutely fine with an occasional Tylenol PM} and go to bed early. And that means, I went to bed when Finn did and Dave stayed up to finish the priming of our beautiful new WALLS. I was zonked out completely until I woke up from searing pain screaming from my um… how can I put this delicately? Nipple region. Dave was trying to untangle me from the covers and they were pulled painfully tight and then pulled quickly over the boobage as if to untangle me. Except it didn’t so much untangle me, as send rip roaring pain across my unbelievably sensitive chesticular area. Holy mother. All I remember is the pain, the possible yelling of an obscenity, and then I was back fast asleep.
So when I woke up Tuesday morning and Dave wasn’t there, I thought he was already at work. Except he wasn’t. He slept on the couch. Apparently, I was so entangled in the blanket & duvet {like a burrito} and taking up the entire bed, coupled with the yelling about boobs + I was pretty much dead asleep from the Tylenol PM that he decided to cut his losses and sleep on the couch.
Wife. Of. The. Year. {Pretty much.}
And that started our day. At 7:30 am.
Dave had an all day meeting with his co-workers that were here from St Louis, so Finn and I were on our own. I don’t much mind because aside from Finn asking me 12,302 times when his daddy was coming home, it’s actually fairly peaceful. We went to his classes and I got a blissful hour to myself to write.
What did you learn at school today Finn?
“We made a rain book. Daddy’s coming home for lunch.”
Nope, let’s go to Panera after class. How does that sound?
“Maybe Daddy doesn’t know which Panera we’re at.”
He’s working Buddy, he’s having lunch with his friends.
We came home from lunch to a 64 degree house. I had to email Dave and {sort of} fixed it myself which I was pretty proud of. Apparently the furnace has been intermittently tripping itself the past week. You know, because we don’t have enough going on…
“Daddy is home!”
Nope, he’ll be home later. How about Mac n Cheese for dinner?
Oh, this is the part where Finn is going to help me and proceeds to burn himself on the hand while pouring fake cheese into the pan after explicit instructions not to touch it. Not only am I making total crap {delicious crap nonetheless} for dinner, but I maim him in the process. Sweet.
Mother. Of. The. Year.
“When is Daddy coming home?”
He should be home in time to read you stories and put you to bed… and hopefully save Mommy from herself.
Nipples! Winning! I’m pretty sure this post is getting me blogger of the year too.
Just sayin’ {Dave, my love} that if any of these were to make their way into a gorgeously wrapped & ribbon adorned gift box, I wouldn’t complain one stinking bit.
Old Navy Maternity Jersey Stretch Tanks in the following colors… black, white, & aqualicious, size XL. I swear these are the only tanks I’ve found that are long enough to adequately cover my bump, plus they are stretchy enough {ie non-maternity looking} that I will be able to wear them the rest of summer.
Samsung Epic for Sprint I have been coveting this for months and months. And now the madness of NEW PHONE is over, the waiting list is gone, prices are down to a reasonable level & I am ready. Or you could just get me this one as a, “I know you need a new fancy phone” gift rather than a birthday gift.
Point & Shoot Camera - The only issue with this one is I am at a loss for just which camera I want. The Canon Power Shot, Nikon Cool Pix, and the Sony Cyber Shot are on my list. Our pro photographer friends love Fuji for point & shoot. I need something decent in low light, that I can use for running around the park, and that has some manual shooting options. {I’d love recommendations!}
Gift certificate to Ahava so I can get my hair-did.
Books – The Paris Wife by Paula Mclain & Faking It by Elisa Lorello {Pssst… Used copies are just fine with me.}
Scottish Fine Soaps, Au Lait Body Butter & Milk Bath Powder. The scent is absolute heaven & not overpowering. {You can find these at Target.}
Pssst… don’t forget to pretty up the packages.
What else should I add to my birthday wish list?
