Friday, November 21, 2014

stuff I no longer care about.


It's Friday, hooray! I miss blogging, I honestly do. Frankly, I used to have more time to just sit and think about stuff to write about, which made it more fun. Then I kind of stopped caring and well, you get the gist. A lot of people seem to be in this boat. I thought it was just the summer slump, but ala Carrie Bradshaw, is blogging on its way out?


Since I basically just brain dump whenever I want to, I know my posts are all over the place. Amazingly enough, this has resulted in a substantial increase in emails looking for sponsored content. Who knew apathy pays the bills? Fear not, I don't have any interest. Especially when the inquiring company in question just wants a blog post for free without sending me any kind of product to review or try. What do I look like?

Anywho, I started thinking about this yesterday as I was doing the truffle shuffle leaving work yesterday.


Warning, most of this is pregnancy related because that's really the source of "don't cuurrr" in my life right now.

Waddling

I used to get really paranoid and freaked out about waddling. Ever since my coworker made that remark about me doing it down the hall, I've made a real effort to make sure I'm still walking like a normal human being. Now? It's like that episode of Family Guy where Stewie follows fat people with a tuba and makes them fall over. I shuffle back and forth and forget it if I need to be somewhere in a speedy fashion. The only time that's happening is if I need to pee, otherwise, we're moving a glacial pace here. 

Sleeping

I used to love being a night owl. I would stay up easily till 2-3am, either chatting online (hey baby), or writing in my journal, or maybe just hanging out if it was a point in my life where I lived with other people. I would do this every night, without fail, and then easily get up for school, class, work, etc the next day. As I've gotten older, that tolerance has significantly decreased, which is to be expected. Bedtime got earlier and earlier until it hovered around 10-11pm. Not heinous, but long enough to stay awake and enjoy my husband's company while not feeling like a complete zombie the next day at work. Coffee helps. 

Fast forward to pregnancy. The first trimester, you are exhausted. There is no other way to explain it, but you're relatively still functional. Then the second trimester comes, the fog clears a bit, and then you have some relief and feel like a normal person again. The third trimester is basically a massive regression. I went from being awake and alert during the evening hours to now basically being comatose by 8pm. It could be even earlier if I've had to be at work anywhere from 6:30-7:30am. I'm also not talking about the, "oh wow I'm getting sleepy and should go to bed" feeling - this is straight up being engrossed in a TV show and then suddenly waking up three hours later to your husband playing XBox. This happens instantaneously; I swear to god it's like having narcolepsy. There are times I don't even realize I've been asleep. Let's just say Carl has been logging a lot of video game hours, which I used to feel bad about, but now I don't considering a certain daughter will be eating up all our free time very shortly. 

Just Being Fat & Winded

Back in the summer, I bought a maternity coat. Old Navy was having an awesome sale and I scored a great one that doesn't even look like it's maternity - so score for post-maternity wear. I knew I would need one being super preggo in the winter months and now that's gotten colder, I'm really glad I have it. 

EXCEPT IT BARELY FITS ANYMORE. 


I put it on to leave work yesterday and the zipper was literally screaming at me like, WE DON'T KNOW HOW LONG WE'LL HOLD MISS! I don't know how this happened or how I'm going to continue wearing it.

In addition to being too large for anything not spandex, I run out of breath really easily. Like, embarrassingly easy. It's not my fault...I'm up like 40lbs at this point (no joke) and I have a baby sitting on my lungs. I tried to sing along to the radio in the car the other day and I sounded like I was going through puberty and running a marathon. My lung capacity is at about 30%. So if, you see me winded and trying to explain something to you, I'm not dying, my child is just suffocating me. 

Respecting the Turkey

Listen, I love Thanksgiving. It's my second favorite holiday because it's 100% focused on food. What's not to love? That being said, I can't stand Respect the Turkey. We all know that every single year the Christmas creep happens right after Halloween. And every year, like clockwork, you get these people who get on their soapboxes bitching, "Well I'M not putting up any Christmas decorations until after Thanksgiving #RESPECTTHETURKEY".

Meanwhile I'm just over here like


Because


So, you sit in your undecorated house enjoying Thanksgiving while my house looks like a winter wonderland #byefelicia.

Being a Pillow

My dog cannot get close enough to me lately. I don't hate it, except when she attempts to cut off my air supply, because I have so little of it left (see above).


Have a fantastical weekend everyone.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

and feel my heart overflow.


Things have changed over the past few weeks...not just with me, but in general. The air feels different, my mind is in a different place, and I suddenly realized just how ready I am to meet our daughter.

When you get pregnant, it's obviously exciting. It's also terrifying. The terror stays at bay though because you have months and months of planning and mental preparation to go through before it all becomes a reality. You show a little, you feel tiny wiggles of movement, and it all feels very real. The second trimester was a huge source of contentment for me although I never felt particularly sappy about this pregnancy. I never waxed poetic about the 'miracle of life' I was growing or posted sickening sweet messages about her. I stayed my snarky, real self throughout this time, mostly because it's all I knew how to do when walking a path I'd never been down before.

But now...I find myself waiting for her. The things I used to find overly saccharine now are starting to echo as true in my head. I sometimes just sit in the nursery, longing for it to have those final finishing touches, and just take in the scenery. Less than a year ago, the room had pink walls and was filled with only clutter and an extra bed. Now, it's completely transformed into something Carl and I envisioned in our heads once upon a time.

Maybe it was the drive up to Brigham and Women's this weekend to visit Casey, who had just had her sweet twin boys, Jack and Miles. We had just come from our infant CPR class and were so excited to see them; I was particularly looking forward to seeing Carl hold a newborn for the very first time. It's been a long time since my niece and nephew were babies and you forget how tiny they really are until you're peeking inside a hospital bassinet.

I knew Carl was nervous but once he had Miles in his arms, I saw a sense of calm come over him. A contentment and a small smile that just filled my heart up. When we talked about it on the way home, he explained how he felt happy knowing that the birth of our daughter was right around the corner and that everything in the now just felt right. I think it made him feel more confidant overall about becoming a father in that moment. It wasn't until the next morning did I see that Casey had gotten this beautiful shot of us that I love so much.


I got to hold him right after this; it was different this time, holding a baby while you're carrying your own that is kicking away. I stopped to breathe in his newborn-ness deeply and examine his tiny wrinkled fingertips. I watched his little facial expressions while he slept away in the crook of my arm, dreaming. I felt the weight of what it looked like to bring new life into this world, instead of just feeling like I was holding someone else's sweet baby. It struck me in all the maternal places it could have.

Maybe it was the fact that I got to unexpectedly see her last week.

I had a routine appointment on Friday. my last of the biweekly check-in's. From 11/17 onward, I'll be seen every week, a milestone that creeps up on you. The doctor I saw was one I haven't seen at my practice yes, but I had met her through work. We chitchatted about work, the pregnancy, and so forth until she furrowed her brow and said, "You're 33 weeks but appear to be measuring 37. Have you had an ultrasound since your anatomy scan?"

I had not and happily agreed to schedule one. I had just been questioning if I would get to have any more, so it couldn't have come at a better time, especially because it wasn't because anything was wrong. I headed back over to work, ate some of the cake I made for my coworker, and then headed off.

Baby Reese is a mover and a shaker during ultrasounds. She loves to do things like show me up by being a wiggle worm when I express feeling like her movements have decreased. It might have been the cake, but this time was no exception. She is head down and the tech left the wand stationary near there and we watched her arch her back and stretch, moving her hands up by her face, and opening her mouth wide. A much different picture from what I saw 15 weeks ago.

They measured her head, her belly, and her femur bone and found that I am measuring about a week ahead, give or take, giving me an updated due date of 12/23 from 12/27. The reality is, I could go any time after Thanksgiving.

I think about it more now.
I think about how much I can't wait to meet her.
I can't wait to see her face and find out who's been swimming around in there the past 9 months.
I can't wait to pick out which tiny features will be reflective of me and which will be of Carl.

I can't wait.

Monday, November 10, 2014

3rd trimester fashion gripes.


Fair warning, this is not going to be one of those posts where I look all cute and show you how to style your bump. It's not happening. This sparked in my head because as time goes on, I'm finding it more and more of a chore just to roll out of bed, nevertheless dress myself. I had someone tell me I was "the most stylish pregnant woman ever" which made me laugh my ass off.

Style Icon 2014, eat your heart out
So, to start, the third trimester is all about comfort. You're huge. There is no kind way to put it, you just are. Your baby is rapidly putting on weight in order to be born and stuff and if you're like me, you're probably getting to the point where your husband has to give you a good starting shove in order to get off the couch. It's really glamorous.

Work is a nightmare. I have essentially 3 things I wear during a given work week - a pair of maternity khaki's and one pair of maternity leggings in black and one in brown. THAT'S IT. Mostly because I can't justify spending any more money on maternity clothes when I'm so close to the end. That shit is expensive. I've exhausted most of my regular wardrobe because most things don't fit over my belly anymore.

So let's talk maternity pants. They are awesome, amazing...a pure godsend. I love my maternity jeans but since I have to be biz casual for the whole week, I only get two days to really wear them. Plus, let's face it, even then, it's only if I'm going somewhere. Otherwise, I'm in sweatpants. Even though maternity pants are great, it's only good for short doses. They stretch out and they fall down just like regular jeans. I won't insult your intelligence by explaining how awkward it looks to pull up jeans that have a spandex waistband that comes up to your chest. Let's just say I spend a lot of time finding a more secluded space to re-adjust myself.

Maternity leggings are also amazing. I thought my life was changed with the pants, but the leggings are a whole different story. They open up doors to a whole new level of "I could give zero fucks". Here is a handy graph to show you what I mean:


As your pregnancy goes on, you will find that your level of caring drastically decreases as the amount of spandex in your life increases. I normally wash my hair every single day, but now I know that some dry shampoo or a ponytail means I can stay in bed longer, especially when my outfit consists of some leggings, a sweater, and flats. Running to the store on the weekend? Who needs make-up? Or even a shower? A hat, a quick spritz of perfume, and some deoderant means you're ready to go. Your belly is so large that people will just be impressed that you're upright. Someone actually asked me recently at the grocery store if I was still working and when I said yes, they replied with, "Wow, good for you!" Any achievement, no matter how small, is an achievement when you're wandering around with an internal basketball.

One thing I do almost every morning is browse Pinterest for ideas. Again, I'm trying to utilize the wardrobe I already have to the fullest and there are certainly some items/combos I would never think would look good together. The problem with that is that you see these same gravity-defying bitches over and over again that make you want to stab someone.

Sure, I could pick on the people tagging their pictures "37 weeks!" while wearing tight dresses and 4 inch heels, but you know that they are just standing there posing and then screaming at the photographer to take the picture already because they are out in the snow. In heels.

I want to gripe about boots. I love my winter boots just as much as the next person and I couldn't wait for it to get cold so I could bust them out again. What I found was that life would not be so easy, condemning my feet to a winter of flats.

For those of you who might be anxiously awaiting boot season for your cute pregnant self, I'm here to burst your bubble. Here is the basic breakdown of how this goes:

- Hooray! It's boot season! Lovingly pull your tall boots from the back of the closet and bring them out.

- Sit on edge of bed and contemplate mechanics of getting on said boot. Attempt to start but stop and re-think process because the normal way you would be doing this is too complicated and involves bending too far. 

- Try to cross your leg to put on boot. Also unsuccessful. 

- Stand boot up and shove foot inside. Foot goes halfway in. Spend 30 seconds attempting to mash foot deeper down into boot. Get winded.

- Kick boot off and get socks. Attempt #2 - socks are too thick, even though they are the thinnest pair you own. 

- Put on tights. Attempt #3 - feet are still too fat to mash down into boot. You haven't even gotten one on and can't even fathom doing another one. Break into a sweat. 

- Reluctantly call husband for help. Husband spends approximately 10 seconds trying to mash foot inside boot before waving white flag. 

- Give up, mourn boots. Put on flats which your fat feet also spill out of. Weep inside. 

Now, what about zippered boots? Well, these might work out better for you. Let me preface this by saying I have the thinnest calves ever. They are practically non-existent and I usually have a hard time filling out the calf part of a boot. Except during pregnancy:


So, I ask you - HOW ARE ALL THESE CHICKS IN BOOTS?


Is there some magic boot secret that I'm being left out on? Because I miss mine and I'd like to wear them. 

Lastly, shopping is bittersweet. You might be looking around for a cute holiday maternity dress for a company Christmas party and then, whoops, you find yourself on the "New Arrivals" page of your favorite store. You find yourself browsing all the cute non-maternity clothing and wonder if you could possibly squeeze into it now somehow (the answer is no). When you're so close to the end and already tired of being pregnant, these emails/shopping derailments are torture. Being pregnant is fun, but it's also a reminder that you still have time before your body becomes yours again. And even then, it's a long winding road to get back to where you were.

7 weeks left, if that. I can totally make it, right?

Thursday, November 6, 2014

diaper bags for men - an extensive study done by Carl.



Is your husband a man's man? Does he like to build stuff, wears flannel like Norm Abrams, and comes in every weekend stinking of sweat covered in grease? Does your guy like the aesthetic of camping-esque or leather equipment? If so, this is the article for you if you're looking for a Dad diaper bag.

I never realized how much thought goes into diaper bags. Once you get into it, you understand how much of a personal choice it is. I knew I wanted something cute, not super expensive, and also didn't scream I'M A DIAPER BAG. Basically, I wanted something that I could use for other stuff afterwards, although you better believe I'm depressed about shelving my Louis for the time being.

I landed on the Pottery Barn Kids Aqua Classic Diaper Bag at $149. Ain't she a beaut?


Interestingly enough, I had never considered a "Dad bag" for Carl. I just assumed he would take mine (it is BLUE after all) but when he expressed wanting something of his own, I was actually glad. I was willing to spend a little more on my personal diaper bag just because I wanted all the bells & whistles and would be the primary person carrying it. This one just works for me.

Carl however had a bit more flexibility. Initially he started sending me links of backpacks, which I immediately vetoed because there are two things Carl collects and borderline hoards. Backpacks and cool bottles. I can't tell you how many empty, random bottles we have around the house because they are funky looking and there is some vague plan for them in the future (wife hint - there is NO plan, just make your husband toss them). In addition to these bottles, my husband loves to go camping, so he's amassed pretty much any kind of backpack you could imagine needing.

He fought me back at first until I argued the point that he'd already be carrying at least a 6+ lb baby and car seat in the beginning - did he really want to be wearing a backpack on top of all of that instead of something sleeker, like a messenger bag? Thus, the research continued. Here are his findings for cool, wearable manly bags at different price ranges:




Diaper Dude Diaper Bag in Brown/Orange: $60, diaperdude.com


What's Awesome: These guys are well known. This bag is roomy, comfortable, and padded. Numerous, large pockets. Durable nylon shell. Inexpensive. 

What's Not: Padding would soak up stains, and therefore smells. Nylon shell is durable, but doesn't 'age' well or suffer abuse and tearing well. Looking through the numerous pockets for small items could become frustrating when in a hurry. Would not fare well through repeated machine washing's.

The Real Deal Brazil Iguape Messenger Bag: $89.99, realdealbrazil.com



What's Awesome: Made from old canvas truck tarps, it is nearly 100% recycled material, will stand up to any punishment or abuse, and will look better over time. Very roomy, with just a few isolating pockets for pacifiers or other "need this right now" essentials. Bag can be used as something else when no longer carrying diapers. Can be cleaned with dish soap and a hose. Also, aesthetically is right up my alley.

What's Not: No shoulder padding would make it a little cumbersome to carry for long periods of time. It is the smallest of the reviewed bags. It wasn't designed as a diaper bag, so organization is up to the wearer (actually a plus for me, but probably not for most others).


Rosenberry Rooms Rubicon Rucksack, Distressed Leather: $365, rosenberryrooms.com



What's Awesome: This bag had me at leather. It's beautiful and functional. It has a water (right, 'water') resistant nylon interior. It's massive. It would last forever and look better with each passing day.

What's Not: Have you ever tried to get the smell of sour milk out of leather? Or remove something sticky? Should any liquid seep through the nylon lining, it would never come out. Also, the price is a bit outlandish for a diaper bag.

So, which did we choose? Well honestly, none of these. Originally it was going to be the Real Deal Brazil bag, but I have an insanely picky husband and since we are bulking up our savings, he balked at the price. So I did some sleuthing and found this guy on Amazon:

Not only was it cheaper, it had great reviews and waaay more storage and pockets. This was less than $40! Which just goes to show, you can't do too much searching when you're trying to find the best price. Now Carl has something rugged and manly amidst all the flowers, pink, and soon to be spit-up.

#dilf



*Disclaimer - neither of us were approached, gifted, or compensated in any way for this review. Just wanted to present our findings and help out our fellow Dad-to-be's.
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