Friday, November 30, 2012

My Friday night is not cooler than yours.

Yah.  You read that right.

It's not.  Muffin.  Work.  Muffin.  Laundry.  Cleaning.  Oil Change.  Car Wash.  Muffin.  Whining child. Child screaming for booty pirates.  (pirates booty.  It's hilarious.)  1/2 muffin.  Art project.  Cooking.  Laundry.  Sitting while Dr. Hubs gives bath.  Remembering that I have to put sheets on the bed.  Mac N Cheese for dinner.  Shower.  shave legs (takes longer than expected.)  Look at watch, damn, it's only 8:20.

The thing is... it's ok with me.  Because I'm a pregnant hermit.  I'm also catching up with the dvr.

Bring.  it.  on.

Neck Punchy

So last night I was perusing and ran across this article about muffins of the season. Rawr. Sounds scandalous, no? It wasn’t. I made Oatmeal Apple (blueberry) Muffins. And I’m on a muffin making kick currently. This baby has made me a domestic muffin making goddess… or something like that. Anyway, they turned out awesomely. I have a couple of more to try from there. Super easy. G$ loved them and I had flax seed in them. Though this am I woke up to him on the monitor saying, “MOMMY. I HAVE POOPY!!! POOPY MOMMY. I have poopy.” So maybe X the flax out of your recipe. I also added some blueberries (frozen) and I think everything else is pretty typical to have on hand which is also part of my money saving/using all groceries/homemade/pretend hippy/saving money so I can continue my starbucks Friday morning high routine. I did “make buttermilk” which I do not usually have on hand. Because ew.
And, then, while I was on that website I started looking around and found this article. That made me want to punch this lady in the neck. Repeatedly.

So if you wrote it… continue to not make comments on my blog. I don’t think we have a future friendship anyway.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

85 pound baby

I’m not complaining so much as saying WTH?

Somedays… I look clearly pregnant.  Somedays I look spare tire/chunk-ish.  I mean, I’m guessing my truffle shuffle is amazing, but I will not check as my bazooms are bigger thank Chunks and I don’t want to damage anything.    

But, how is that possible?  Where does this baby hide?  Answer… he hides on my bladder.  He literally is going to fall out when it’s go time.  I’m going to be on a tv show for having my baby in the toilet.  Which isn’t good because I use Clorox in there and that’s really drying on your skin, but my goodness a good bleach job works wonders.  And it makes me feel all chemically clean like no germs (or even twinkies) could ever survive.  It’s a sickness.  I get it.  I also put in a tiny bit of bleach in my steam mop.

Anyway, this isn’t about bleach.  It’s about how the hell I’ve gained 8 lbs in FOUR WEEKS?  I did NOT experience this with G.  Slow and steady won the race.  The tiny baby race at which my vag rejoiced.  My doctor wasn’t at all concerned and I was proud of myself for not telling her she could shave off about 2lbs from constipation (I’m usually not so good at the non-disclosure.)  EIGHT pounds.  That is the size of a human baby.  I have like… 15? (I can’t keep up this time) weeks left… what if I gain 120 more pounds?  On top of the 14 I’ve already gained… and it remains all in my ass/thighs?  I think that’s a completely different type of TLC show. 

And, why does this baby make my ass look big?  That’s another question for you.  Why does my 2 year old think that rolling around on the kitchen floor throwing a fit is going to let him have a sucker?  When I’ve obviously stated that it will not? 

I did pass my glucose test (thank you jeebus) which means I can continue my massive weight gain. 
25 weeks.  Huge ass.

Sunday, November 25, 2012


I kid.  I took not one picture of Thanksgiving.  Not one.  I made cookies, icing, lemon pie, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans, rolls, other things I can't remember, cleaned like a mo fo etc etc.

So lets move into Christmas.  The holiday I've actually already decorated and photographed.  Nesting is full force.  Massive.  I maybe packed up a shiz ton of G's toys last night.  He won't notice, right?  Ps. He has.  Mostly because I didn't finish nesting.  I packed up his toys and moved them upstairs outside of his room last night and so perps they are still there.

We also took G to look at big boy beds at which he told me, "But mama, I already have a bed."  touche g$, touche.

SOoooooooooooooooo here you go.  for now.  There are more coming.  G has a santa shirt...and Christmas tree pants.  I'm just sayin'.

And then we attempted Christmas card pictures.  That mostly involved G running around and saying, "look mama, a peacock.  Look mama, a time tunnel.  Look mama, I put my hands in the water."

6 months pregnant.

Self portraits.  Who is checking the sun on that?

Sitting ='s not attractive.

Ben told me that standing on a super ledge wasn't safe.  I said... meh?

White men.

Trying to talk G into a cute picture.

Majority of the time he spent running around.

Did you catch all that?  

Christmas cards ordered.

Saturday, November 17, 2012


Along with all of Michigan, and other frozen tundras, we set out for Florida.  It was cold as hell.  Oxymoron?  It was a nice get away (with ben's parents.)  Sadly, I didn't get any shots of G in his baby thong swimsuit.  It just didn't get that warm.  And his tanning in the bed was a waste.  Like mine in high school.  No action.

He was great (except for the flight home.)  And he loved the beach (that wasn't close to the water.)  He ate 3 lbs of hummus and carrots (which he won't eat at home.)  He fed a giraffe.  He got novelty coffee cups from Ron Jons (just kidding, that was us.)  Now... 800 pictures (but fewer than fb.)

Walking down to the beach.

First feet in the sand.

seashells.  the highlight of the trip.

mandatory jump shot.

lovin' my baby.  He needed to jump, too.

our backyard.

shitting himself at dinner.  And I didn't have a diaper.  Check please?

a little night time view.

morning walk.


looks sweet.  he's heavy.

I like a hammock.

Pointed toes.  Those 12 years of gymnastics paid off.

5.5 months.

my one nap time lounge.

is that a birthing position?

sweet sweet turkey sleep.

mama and g

feeding the giraffe!  (mil hovering)

he picked these glasses out.

my boys.

I forgot to tell the random on the beach to make me look thin.

trying to coerce g into the water.

I like it!

I jump.

carry me, mama.

amazeballs dinner with free babysitting.  And I had wine.  OUT.

pre-screaming on the airplane.