THIS is what its all about

A change of dress

I’ll be the first to say I’m not the most fashion forward kid on the block. I mean, I won’t just wear anything, but my heyday was probably when I was in my very early 20's and spent all of my disposable income (and some rent money, too) on rail vodka sodas and discounted designer duds from Lohmans. I read VOGUE cover-to-cover and wore heels everywhere. HA. How times have changed. And they keep on changing; I broke a cardinal rule last night and walked the dog in pajama pants. Oh, the horror.

Although my clothing selections now lean more towards comfort, I still have personal style. I like things that are fun, vintage feeling and a little unique but still smart and classic. Its Dorothy Gale goes to grandma’s house before hitting the champagne bar. As the years pass, I feel my shopping emphasis has migrated from new frocks and pumps to house wares as I continue to fluff and perfect my nest. I haven’t been on a proper shopping spree in ages. Instead, I’ll buy for necessity – new dress for the holidays, upgraded jeans to look effortlessly put-together at that party, mix and match tops for my growing corporate wardrobe- and then integrate those new items in to my evolving closet.

Pregnancy, it seems, has thrown a wrench in this delicate process.

There are loads of adorable maternity options for Mother’s these days. In years past, I’ve strolled by Pea in a Pod at the mall and wished they offered that perfect summer print dress in an un-pregnant option. But these shiny new digs naturally come with a price. One I’m a little unwilling to dish out for a 5-8 month shelf life. So, if the remaining options are to: Beg, Borrow or Steal, I’ll stick with borrow for now. I’m fortunate enough to have ladies around me who are done with their childbearing years and ready to clean their closets. I’m more than happy to accept, but rummaging through some of my “new” duds recently I had to stop for a moment. Some of these cloths are just not me!

So, let me get this straight, I’m to spend the rest of 2011 in not only a body that feels foreign, but a wardrobe as well?! Don’t get me wrong – there are some serious gems in this pile, but for the most part, I’d stroll on by most if I were shopping. A black jersey pair of overall SHORTS may sound like an adorable option for those in a delicate condition, but I look & feel like the long lost pregnant step sister from the cast of Blossom.




Maternity jeans? YES. Acid wash maternity jeans? NO.

So, I’m on the hunt for some flirty, fierce and affordable staples to get me through the summer FEELIN’ FINE & FOXY. Set your scopes for:

-fat ankle-friendly summer sandals that move from office to poolside
-a too cute for words dress that will take me anywhere
-a bathing suit that won’t make me feel like I swallowed the beach ball because you wouldn’t let me play
-a comfy skirt that will go with anything. Anywhere.
-an extra large pair of sunglasses to draw far attention away from rolly polly thighs
-maternity tank tops to serve as my summer uniform
-a cute outfit in orange to support the O's come spring

So be on the look out! Does Lohmans have a maternity section? I haven’t been in years and I never made it too far past the size 7 footwear aisle….

hey, we got the beat

we got it!

This president's day, Spencer and I celebrated the birth of our forefathers by getting a little sneak peak at the next generation of great leaders...a 16 week check-up that was meant to be soundtrack only, but ended up being a blockbuster instead - and a drama at that!

Every Doctor's visit has been "weird" in some way; "you're having twins, congratulations!"/ "you're not having twins, sorry!", and those were the memories that were on replay in my mind as I waited in Dr. B's office. We skipped the pleasantries and I hopped on the table as soon as she came in. I was nervous; I hadn't known I was pregnant, what if i didn't know I wasn't anymore? I know that sounds stupid, I just want to put that out there. This whole thing is a little nerve racking, just preparation for a lifetime of worrying about preteens on bicycles with no helmet's and out-of-state college campuses.

Anywhosit, Dr. B has ye olde fetal Doppler out and fired up. (not gross, its a super-sonic hearing device used to hear baby's heartbeat through mom's big fat tummy) So there I am, sure that I'm over-worrying and just waiting for the little thumper. and waiting. Oh, maybe over here....? no, ok - maybe down here? Nope. Just the swishies of a tummy filled with Jason Roll and sounds of the heart of a very new mommy about to beat right out of her chest. It was sinking slowly down to my shoelaces. I honestly thought I might pass out on the table for a minute. Everyone told me not to worry, and here I was right. And felt so awful about it. Dr. B could tell I was close to giving birth to a panic attack so she shut off the Doppler and suggested we just stroll over to the sonogram room and settle this as fast as possible.

That walk sucked. I'll be the first to admit it took me a minute to warm up to the idea of being somebody's mommy by the end of this summer. I was shocked when we first found out and the best way to put it is that I mourned a little after the news. I morned the end of a life I knew and loved. I've just started my big girl career, I was sketching out a dream kitchen and daydreaming about the next country Spencer and I would visit. I know now that these things can still happen, but for a few days I was convinced that the wonderful life as I knew it was over, rover. I mean, it is. But I'm OK with it.

And now I am 100% sure of that. Because that walk sucked. In that short walked my heart hurt bad and it started to pour out of my eyeballs a little. I was ready to give up anything to see a little heart flicker on that monitor. The pyramids in Egypt, a stainless steel double oven, a cushy 9-4 job with a company car...all of it. And I got my wish. There was our little monster, rolled up and facing down, buried safely n mommy's tummy.

What a relief. Dr. B says I'm now in the "coasting stage" of pregnancy and I'm trying to relax and have a little faith. A relief too to know just how I feel about this little troublemaker, even though s/he's totally already grounded for pulling such a stunt.

nursery mood bored

Get it? Because I was "bored" at work when I made it. Oh goodness, I'm brilliant.

Last week at my super-fab & delicious Ladies Wine Club meeting (cool your jets, I drank Fre!) I was asked about our nursery plans for this little gender unknown bundle of fun. Definitely no princess theme, and as much as i adored my matchbox race cars growing up, I think a NASCAR nursery might send the wrong message.

I decided on a "whimsical woodland" theme...because what kid in their right mind wouldn't love a daily romp in the woods that are filled with whimsy? Here is what I came up with (disclaimer: I am in no way a designer. I used PowerPoint for lords sake and stole pictures from the interwebs)



It all started with laziness. I just repainted that room from "Grandma's Lilac" to Valspar's Sweet Georgia Brown, a color I spent a good hour and a half at Home Depot picking out. It reminds me of melty chocolate ice cream. It's delicious and I adore it. So that stays on the bottom, with our favorite creamy beige landing up top. I plan on dividing the colors with a painted chair rail in a fun green to complement the forest green plush carpet. I have been eyeing those funny creature photo's from Etsy seller Berkley Illustration for a while now, along with the World Market curtains I've been dying to find a home for. A baby certainly provides redecorating inspiration!

I'm not tied down to a particular crib style - I'll most likely cruise Craigslist for some worthy finds that don't cost an arm & a leg. We may be having a baby, but I'm still trying to redo my kitchen in this decade. The green talk bubble on one leg is my sad attempt to represent a tree mural that could double as a growth chart. I'm pretty sure I could pull that off myself.

I might change my mind before August 7th, but I think that I could pull this design off for under $300, new crib included. We'll see! Have you seen any real-life nurseries lately that have had you swooning for a baby bump?

Happy Valentine's Day EVERYONE

It's Valentine's Day! spoiler alert: I'm livin' a totally blessed life these days and could easily pour on and on about how lucky I am. My husband is so thoughtful and perfect, our home is happy and I even have an extra little heartbeat going on just to keep up with how much love I feel.

But that's soooo predictable! Instead, I'd like to talk about some of the unsung heroes of Valentine's day. your waitstaff.

I waited tables for a 10 years (fun fact: I wore a full men's tuxedo for 4 of them!) and part of that job means having to give up a little on the holiday side of life. That meant spending Christmas eve with Jewish strangers, Easter with hard of hearing grandparents & loud babies that didn't belong to me and yes, Valentines day surrounded by love...directed at other people.

It's not all awful. Rightfully so, everyone makes the decision to splurge on V-day dinner and as a waiter, you reap the benefits and walk out hundreds of dollars richer and go enjoy a nice diner with your sweetie on the 15th.

From a former waitress, here are some notes I've made concerning V-day restaurant patrons over the years:
* First, are you sure you want to go out to dinner on Valentine's Day? I get it, but remember: it will be crowded. That means the kitchen and your waiter will be busy. It means you will be rushed a little so your table can be ready for the next seating. Simply waiting a few days would promise you a relaxed, quiet evening with more attention from the staff then on an Amateur night like V-day.
* Be nice. Your waiter is either A) away from their loved one and watching happy couples "Lady & the Tramp" their spaghetti to each other over and over OR B) doesn't have a loved one and hates you. So if he/she seems frazzled, go easy on the poor kid!
* having said that, you still should never, ever settle for snarky, nasty service.
* Don't wear red or pink. It's so overdone. a touch here or there: ok, but if you really want to stand out, flash some emerald green or canary yellow. you'll shine!
*Don't get the pre-fix, it's usually a scam! you'll get much better food if you stick to the menu.
*Don't spurge on the meal and skimp on the tip. 18% is the new 15% and anything less is an insult to good service! sorry penny-counters, thems the rules!
* Please don't propose to your Lady on Valentine's Day in a restaurant. you'll tell your server and they will tell everyone else and then you will be gawked out till you get down on one knee in front of a room full of strangers, peering over your shoulder. And what if you aren't the only one?! THE HORROR! Plus, the most you might get is a free desert. Is forking out a cool hundy plus romantic follow up to a proposal? No way. It's smoochfest time, baby!


Enjoy your happy cupid day's everyone! Remember: when in doubt, buy jewelry or sea salt caramels. and send flowers to you mother.

HAPPY MONDAY!

"Fre" me from myself

I just want to get this out there: I don't want to only think about being pregnant. I had other thoughts before this, didn't I? People must have talked to me about things other than baby names, right? I'm having flashbacks of when we were in the throws of wedding planning and I could google "unique cake toppers" & "budget wedding ideas" for days on end. When we went out all anyone wanted to know was wedding details. Don't get me wrong. It was awesome.

This is awesome too. I know I'm trading in late nights and day long hangovers for something amazing. The transition is just tough. It's still just me, but then again it isn't. It's weird.

My ever-loving lumberjack husband is aware of this and does his best to help out. Last night I came home to an early Valentine's gift. WINE!

I love wine. I miss the ritual that came with wine. A glass while I made dinner, chilled on the deck with girls and gossip, feeling sophisticated on the bar stool with a wide rimmed sweetheart. With Fre Alcohol removed wines i get to have my cake and remember eating it, too! (mmmm, cake...ice cream cake...cheesecake...cheese...)

AND GUESS WHAT? It tastes like wine! I had half a bottle of Fre Merlot with dinner last night while I watched my NBC stories. It was just like olden times, guilt free! How superb. I'm chilling some booze-free bubbly as i write in anticipation of Valentines day.

So, next time your pregnant, on your way home from AA or knee-deep in the south beach diet, swing by and pick yourself up some boozy-flavored grape juice.

*I was not approached or paid by Fre or NBC to write this post, because face it: people have to actually read your blog before strangers start giving you money.

"Grandmother" is so 2000 and late

No one wants to be Grandmom. Ok, that's not true. nearly every mom of a twenty or thirty-something kid out there is probably daydreaming about the day their babies have babies and they get to spoil them rotten...and return to sender once screaming begins...and laugh devilishly now that the shoe is on the other foot.

What I mean to say is, it seems no one wants to be called "Grandmom" anymore. Nonna & Bubbie are exceptions here, they're cultural. But it would be weird for my German-Irish mother to receive "te amo mi Nonna" mugs for Christmas.

She still suggested it though. She also suggested Gia and Bigmomma.



I also know an Oma, CoCo and Bubble. Has the classic "Grandmom" gone the way of the velocoraptor and McRib sandwich?

I had a "Grandmom" and a "MomMom". Spencer had a "Grandmom" and a "Grandmother", which my mother-in-law Sally has already claimed as her own (she is straight up old school like that, yo.) I told my mom this and now she's more settled on "Granni" - yes, with an "i".

Honestly I don't care what she wants to go by, just as long as I don't feel like an idiot saying it over and over again in public. Which is why "MeeMaw" is totally out of the question. (No offense to any Mee-Maw lovers out there...haha)I figure she has a while to test drive a few names out before this Little Monster starts writing love-poems to favorite family members.

She will most likely be the best Grandparent a kid has ever had, no matter what she's called, so I'm not worried.

Just no Mee-Maw.

No-Glow

Where is this alleged "pregnancy glow" i heard so much about? Is it a myth designed to encourage women to look past the constipation, double chins and episiotomy that so many pregnancies dish out? I had imagined myself the most delightfully adorable pregnant woman in the history of time. Long flowing hair, glowing skin...you know the kind. The woman who doesn't look pregnant from the back.

yeah, her. the one we hate.

I am sooo not that one. My skin is paler than ever before, my hair is limp, my "baby bump" is more like a "baby spare tire". and the breakouts. oh the break outs. Before this pregnancy, I routinely had MAYBE 5 zits a year, and I could associate each one personally with a pinpointed stress-event or chocolate binge. I am sporting nearly triple that on my face at the time of this posting. TRIPLE!

Don't say that I'm having a girl. I've heard that; "boys make you glow, girls steal your beauty", but I'm not sure I buy into it. Sounds like the first of many gender-associated comments that set us ladies out to be worthy of making only 77 cents to the male dollar later in life. This brainwashing must end.

We are the dumb birds that fly North in Winter

No one in their right mind travels to Vermont in February. Well versed travelers around the world are shaking their heads in disgust. Not even the proprietors of the Rutland County Maple Museum stick around VT in the coldest month of the year.

How cold, you say? Does -25 do anything for you? It gives me nightmares. But here I write, the day before we fly off to Chittendon, VT through the most massive snow and ice storm 2011 has seen.

We go to visit friends. Andy & Brian relocated to a fern-engulfed oasis in the Green Mountains of Vermont two years ago. Vert Monts. it always comes back to knowing French. We went last year and had a gay-ole-time; skiing, drinking hearty beers and red wine, stealing puffs of cigarette by the wood stove and eating maple bacon to our hearts delight. We planned this trip while I was unknowingly pregnant. Had I known I would not be permitted to partake in any of last years activities, I may have suggested a rendezvous in a warmer climate. Somewhere with snowballs that taste like cherry chocolate and mountains of sand.

Nevertheless, I'm excited to see friends and escape. January was an strange month that took Spencer and I on a range of emotions that would envy a Food Network stove-top. We found out we were pregnant, found out it was twins, panicked about having 2 newborns, lost a dear friend, cried, panicked some more, accepted the idea of multi-infants, felt happy, found out we lost one baby, "relgrieved" (that's a combination of relief and grieving) and introduced spinach smoothies into our routine. It was an exhausting month, and as dreary as February is proving to be weather-wise, it feels like a fresh start in so many ways. Like a 2011 do-over of sorts. And what better way to celebrate than to eat maple creamies with some of our oldest friends on a frozen lake?

obviously the answer to that is: Cancun. But we already bought our plane tickets.