wrap it up

This morning was spent picking up the remnants of the night before, something I failed to do before bed time as we decided to beg a favor out of the grandparents and steal away for a movie.  So after we dropped him off and swung by Sonic, off we went with my purse stuffed full of burgers, onion rings and coke.  The movie was a Will Ferrell/Mark "hey donkey" Wahlberg collaboration and I had high hopes I tell you, high hopes that were squashed flat.  Aside from a few choice one liners it was easily forgettable.  In fact, I spent the majority of the time shifting positions uncomfortably and trying to figure out whether or not this baby was actually trying to claw his way out or if I just had gas.  

Contractions are lost on me.  I mean I know what they feel like, but Paul is dead convinced that I'll probably have this kid on the bathroom floor because I can't decide whether or not it's the real thing.  Yes, the Hub's real name is Paul.  I'm sick of calling him Hub so I guess he gets to be himself again.  Don't worry, I'll still crack short jokes.  That's what I do, it's who we are.   

Let me tell you about the best part of going to see a movie.  It's the end where we go to pick the kid back up and he runs to us arms wide open, and face lit up like he hasn't seen us in ten years.  I like that part.  It's my favorite.

I have a bunch of work to do but I can't seem to make myself attempt it in the lull of the afternoon.  Plus I've realized I do my best at night, late, when everyone else is asleep and there's nothing around to distract me.  Like cookie dough brownies, or Mockingjay.  Yeah, I finished it finally, and I liked it in the end.  Plus that pregnancy induced insomnia has finally started to set in so I'm up anyway, whether I want to be or not.  How I escaped it for so long this time around is beyond me, just lucky I guess.  

A 3 day weekend is ahead, sweet.  

On my docket: a trip to Kneaders for pumpkin bread and possibly a pedicure.  It's that time after all, any joiners?  

some definitions

pet peeve: when you buy a bag of grapes and only a few of them are the firm and crisp ones you pinched to check for goodness and the rest of them are just soft,  I want my money back.

disheartening: when someone else's bank slip blows onto your lawn as trash and you pick it up and see their balance is much, MUCH higher than yours and immediately feel inferior as a result.

annoying: filling out insurance paperwork and trying to deduce the difference between plan options and deductibles and deciding which one is going to screw you over less, all the while realizing that all of the money you've paid into a policy for the old insurance company for the last year has been for naught as you didn't make any sort of claim and did not have a baby in time to make it all worth it.  Le sigh.

delicious: eating the dessert you made for your anniversary (a personal favorite of your slightly shorter spouse) straight from the pan and feeling better about having insurance in the first place as a result

delightful: taking your 2 year old to the Bean Museum and having a good laugh at the taxidermist who had to stuff a set of deer balls as part of his job description.  Yes, I said deer balls.  As if peeling the skin off of something and schlepping it over a foam figure weren't crappy enough, please make sure the twig and berries look real too.  I'm just saying, I appreciate the dedication to one's craft.  Deer balls.

It's not summer anymore

Ah September, we made it.

I have mixed feelings about September you know.  Generally I'm a fan, I mean it's still nice outside but not too sweaty, the kids go back to school and stop getting in my way at the various retail establishments that I frequent, then there's that whole "I'm giving birth in September" thing as well.  

September is good. September is fine.  But you know, let's consider a minute that September acts as sort of a capstone on the summer time fun.  I mean that's pretty much the end of it come the next week or so here.  

And then it's fall. 

Don't get me wrong, I love fall.  Fall is my season.  I even love the first few months of winter.  What I hate with the fire of a thousand suns is the time period of roughly Feb-April.  February through April has never really offered anything good to my life so I'm going to go ahead and hate them as much as I want and I don't care what you say.  

All that's neither here nor there.  Today is September 1st, probably a really good day to have a baby.  I'm sure many women in this great beehive state are doing just that.  

But not me.  

I'll be right here, mopping a floor and folding up those 5 trillion burp clothes I washed two days ago.  

And that's just fine.  I bet the next two weeks have days just as good, if not better, as September 1st anyway.  

a muffin for your tuesday

It's my anniversary today, maybe that's why I'm feeling like a giver.  Because, you know, one could make a lot of jokes about giving in relation to weddings and getting married.  Hardy har har, oh I kill myself...  

Here are the muffins I made for breakfast:

Peachy Moist (you know you love that word) Muffins

1 1/2 C flour

1 1/2 tsp baking powder

3/4 C sugar

1 egg

1/2 C butter softened

1/2 C peach yogurt

 (or one container of yogurt, I used apricot, you can use any kind you really want or whatever you have on hand)

1 tsp vanilla

1 C peaches, well drained and chopped (sure bet you could use fresh if you wanted though)

1 C chopped pecans if you feel so inclined, I did not

combine eggs, yogurt, butter, vanilla, add dry ingredients than fold in peaches and pecans

 fill sprayed muffin tin or muffin cups generously, they don't rise much.

bake at 400 for 15-20 min, cool in pan for 10 min

you can thank me later

whaa no pictures?  Picture this, my muffin top is epic.  

four

whoa

we're awesome

what fine web we weave

all I have to tell you about my day thus far




is that at one point there was poop on my lip


poop.on.my.lip.

what finish line?

11 pm on a friday night, that's right, no bra

My increasingly beloved friend Whitney randomly brought me chocolate cookies late this afternoon, delivering them with a saintly smile and a promise for some dinner "when the little gent does show up".  We chatted for a minute, long enough for her boy Jack to crawl out of the car to give Gus the Thunderdog a once over, and for Whitney to rightfully observe that I certainly look round and ready to go.  

Boy do I feel round and ready to go, like a big juicy peach hanging onto the branch for dear life.  

PICK ME ALREADY WOULD YOU?? 

Even though technically, this kid could still take his sweet time for a few more weeks to come-if you subscribe to the timeline of due dates and that whole 40 week gestation sort of thing.  I myself like to think of all that as more of a general guideline I like to stay on the shorter side of, both mentally and physically.  Besides, when you get to the point where you find yourself rather unwillingly discussing the state and condition of your cervix with people like your Grandma, it's time to wrap this show up.  No offense Grams, but my lady parts and their expansion aren't something I particularly feel like chatting about as we make our merry way to your weekly hair appointment.  

There's always the back and forth of how you really feel too.  Like sweet, this kid could come anytime!  But crap, the nursery isn't put together, our insurance is switching providers Sept. 1st (triple blurgh),  the Nub hasn't been reassigned bedrooms, the clothes haven't been washed and put away, I haven't even taken the car seat out of it's box in the garage and do I have any sort of a bag packed or prepared?  Nope.  Somehow this stuff will just take care of itself, right?  Another week or so would do me some good, give me a buffer maybe.  Except I think I am done and the promise of a few days in the hospital with the fuzzy and wrinkly opus of my 9.5 month effort is starting to sound pretty dang good.

So really I don't know where I stand, other than easily irritable, crampy, and uncomfortable, mildly anxious and somewhat reticent about it all at the same time.

How's that for today?        

missed my bedtime

I go a week without posting and then suddenly everyone gets all in a fuffle about whether or not this hatchling has flown my coop already.  Okay or maybe that's how I play it out in my head because no one really said that to me.  Do you ever do that?  Create these fake scenarios that somehow become very real to you?  Because I do, all the time.  ALL THE FREAKING TIME and chances are I'm 99% wrong usually, but no matter, in my head that's how it goes so it must be real.  

I'm not even making any sense now, please feel free to disregard.  

It's late, like midnight late and that is straight ridiculous up in here.  I feel like Alicia Keys when I talk like that you know, I mean I'm the whitest white girl ever but hey, I've got soul up in this bidness.  Plus my dad is black and I did a song about New York with Jay-Z so that gives me cred.  Except in my case my dad is whiter than me (at least his legs are) so Alicia and I do not have that much in common after all.  I will neither confirm nor deny about doing any songs involving Jay-Z.  Just because it hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't.  Humph.  

I just finished up some work that I didn't get to earlier thanks to a nice toddler fever and an afternoon spent in bed with my number one Spoonie Love From Up Above, or perhaps you know him better as Nub.  Usually me no likey random fevers, but in this case we hung out for like 2 hours, napping off and on and banking some serious tender time together.  And then this is the part where the panic sets in because of what I'm about to do to his life in a few short weeks.  Never shall we be the same.  I want to wax poetic about it and likely I will at some point so go ahead an gird your loins for that.  But tonight, maybe just appreciate this post as a good example why I should always go to bed before 11, yeah?  

just bring chips next time

Hey Monday, welcome back.  I've missed you.  

Or not.  

Mayhaps today is an exception to the "Monday sucks" rule because we are decompressing and being awesome after the insanity of birthday weekend.   I'm walking around in no bra with my shirt exposing a good 2 inches of white skin and ginorm belly (everything is too short these days), and my kid is in a diaper and pajama top after already having been hosed off once from playing in the dirt and likely at least twice more before the day is through.  What can I say, we keep it classy.  

I've got mountains of laundry to do and a kid to detox thanks to a diet consisting solely of root beer, any other drink sitting around that he filched, cake, and chips for the last three days.  That's it.  

Speaking of chips, here he is opening his favorite present:

a bag of doritos

seriously exciting if you're two I guess

Other things that excite me about today:

1. Costco coupons.  Did you see that they finally stopped doing the co-coupon for diapers and wipes together?  Sometimes I just want a diaper coupon you know?  Today I got that wish.  $6 off a box man, jackpot.  I'll take two please.  Except wait, I just realized I have to renew my membership this month too.  DOH!

2. I'm not wearing a bra and I'm going to do my best to avoid doing so the rest of the day.  I know I already mentioned this, but seriously, sometimes swinging low is the way to go youknowwhatimsayin?

3.  I wrapped up some serious projects this weekend.  That felt good, real good.

4.  Dinner is already planned thanks to left overs.

5.  My house is clean, mostly, this is awesome.

And wrap.

it's official

I have a 2 year old

Happy Birthday Peanut!