More party, less business.

- I promise to no longer use a certain Bon Jovi song no matter how relevant it feels in my post titles. I'm sorry. I overdid it. I will try better to be better. Thank you for your forgiveness and understanding as I work through this character flaw.

- I hate walking down hallways at work. When you're walking down a hallway and someone is coming towards you, where are you supposed to look? At your feet? At the wall? The ceiling? Directly into the person's eyes and, by extension, their soul? If it's a colleague you know, what is the reasonable distance to acknowledge them? When you first see them at the end of the hall? When they're close enough to touch? As you're passing them do you go for the high five?

I think, for the sake of lessening the mental load, all work spaces should be rejigged to no longer include hallways and simply have more corners and walls instead.

- Molly is getting a mouthful of teeth and woke up shortly after 5 a.m. twice this week. Never, ever has one of my children been up for the day at 5 a.m. before and she did it twice in a row. Because she loves me.

- I wore my hair in a half bun half down the other day and got a bunch of compliments on it at work. I'm not even sure I like that hairstyle because it's basically the millennial's version of a mullet. Even though I'm on the fence about it, I'm trying to let go of the full mom bun (too much business, not enough party) but am too scattered to do my hair every day when it's down, so I'll just get my validation from others and the style grow on me.

- I started watching The Let Down on Netflix. It's an Australian comedy about a new mom and her life with a baby. I was really excited about it but had to stop watching halfway through the second episode. It was too painfully accurate about some of the hard things of motherhood.

- I started watching season two of Santa Clarita Diet instead. I remember enjoying the first season of it but I watched it when Molly was in the hospital at a couple weeks old so it's all a bit of a blur.

I am loving season two. I don't remember season one being this good. Nathan Fillion only adds to the brilliance.

- We looked at a house yesterday that had vinyl plank flooring and it blew my mind how nice it looked. I'm curious if it actually lives up to the hype. Anyone know?

- The house hunt is still slowly going along, but we've officially looked at two houses with our realtor, been to one open house, and driven by two others. That's like a 500% increase in the last eight days. I'll take it.

- Skinny jeans have their place, but I bought a pair of Gap "sexy boyfriend jeans" from Value Village the other day. For $10 they're like the sweatpants of jeans that I can wear to work on Fridays. The only thing I don't like about them is that I think"sexy" in this case means that they don't go to my belly button, so I think I might need to get a belt or something.

When I was in high school I used to cut the waistbands off my VV pants and move the belt loops down to make my own low rise jeans. Now I'm wishing I could do the opposite. They call them mom jeans for a reason. My hips were not only made for birthing children, they were made to hold my pants up. Motherhood humbles you.

- It's Canada Day tomorrow. I haven't gone to the fireworks in years, but Karl and I are going to go with a friend and I feel like I'm 17 again. Ask me how I feel at 6 o'clock Monday morning when Molly wakes up. That's a problem 17 year old Anna certainly never had to deal with. Does anyone else remember when waking up at 9 felt early on a day off?

Currently. March "blizzard" edition.

wearing: A baby in a wrap, standing at the kitchen counter, hoping the toddler doesn't realize that I've got something cool that he doesn't have. Actually, he's being very quiet. Just checked and he's scooping flour out of the bag and onto the floor with a rogue measuring cup. But that's not what I'm wearing, because what I'm wearing is a newborn. There's really no other explanation for what is currently happening. It's like the heaviest sweater I've ever owned and it's almost guaranteed to give me back issues, especially leaning over the counter like this. But I'm also wearing joggers (the kind of sweatpants that are socially acceptable to wear in public) because we have a blizzard warning and the only people I'm going to see today have either slept in my bed or delivered my mail.

listening: I finished the Blue Babies Pink podcast last night. You can also read it, but at this stage in my fussy baby wrangling life listening is more up my alley. I very highly recommend it. He does such a good job of telling his story, throwing in some beautiful imagery, and I'd be lying if I told you I didn't tear up a couple times. If you don't know what it is, it's a gay Christian man telling his story, and no matter how you feel about that particular theological issue it's well worth a listen.

Now that I'm done with that I'll catch back up with Young House Love's podcast. It's my bedtime kitchen cleaning jam.

I'm also going through the Harry Potter audiobooks again. I needed something good to listen to during naptime and didn't have the energy to find another audiobook. They can be so hit or miss.

I also have The Elms' Truth, Soul, Rock and Roll in the CD player. I now relate to all those old people listening to music from their high school days. I don't think I will ever stop liking The Elms.

anticipating: A trip to Victoria later this week. I'm a bit nervous about our raging toddler being places that aren't Parker-proofed. He's going to be spending a whole weekend at my mom's without us while we go to a wedding in Vancouver. Someone told me after church yesterday that he's such a delightful kid and she loves having him in Sunday School. I almost cried. As a parent, that's kind of all you can hope for. I'm hoping that carries over into his time with my mom. 

I'm looking forward to time with friends, visiting the petting zoo, ice cream sandwiches, vegan doughnuts, and buying new shoes. My feet have gone up a half size and I feel like this month's clothing budget would be well spent on a new pair of nice footwear. 

eating: Chocolate right now, but also a lot of crock pot meals. Why I didn't use our crock pot every day for the first couple years we had it is beyond me. I use it at least once a week now and it's the best thing ever. Especially with the snow. Also, tuna wraps. 

making: Belgian waffles, book mobiles, pompoms, and baby blankets. Did you know real Belgian waffles are made with yeast and chunks of sugar? I burned my finger about 15 times cleaning the melted sugar off the waffle iron (with a q-tip) and eventually decided that the rest of it could stay on there for the next time. How are you even supposed to clean a waffle iron? Why doesn't the iron part come off for actual cleaning? Someone should lose their job for that design fail.

feeling: Tired, mostly, and sometimes overwhelmed. Looking after two very little kids is the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. When Parker was born I used to mourn my life before kids, wondering if it wouldn't have been wise to wait longer before having kids. Then I realized we weren't that interesting before anyway and got over it. The hard part about having two under two is disciplining the older one. He's too young to understand a ton of consequences, but not too young to know when he's doing something he shouldn't. It's a hard age, and while things have certainly gotten easier in the past few weeks as we all adjust to the new normal, I can't help but feel that if the age gap was even a few months bigger between the kids this would be a bit easier.

I was so tired on Saturday that, aside from accidentally burning myself multiple times on the waffle iron, I cut my finger while making pompoms. I was clearly too tired for depth perception. And basic intelligence. I took a half hour nap then proceeded to win a round of Settlers of Catan for only the second time ever, and I did so quite handily. Highlight of of my weekend. 

reading: I have a hundred pages left in the fantasy book I'm reading. It's the fourth and final in the series and according to goodreads the ending is the worst thing ever. I'm really looking forward to finding out what it is.

I'm also reading parenting books on discipline. Dear Lord, how have I come to this point in my life?

It's not very often I have more than one book on the go at a time, but I currently have three. I'm hoping to trim that down drastically in the next week or two. It feels like cleaning three rooms at a time and having nothing actually clean. Too many loose ends.

loving: Baby girl clothes and thrift stores. After reorganizing Parker's room there's a lot of blank wall space. I went to the Salvation Army the other day to try and find stuff to put on his wall, and ended up spending $8 on a dress, two pairs of pants, and a sleeper for Molly. I wish I had as much luck on finding clothes for myself there, but I went through the bins of my old clothes the other day and I have some great stuff in there. If that isn't motivation to lose the baby weight nothing is.

watching: Way too much TV and Netflix. That's the beauty of middle of the night nursing sessions and the newborn days. I've given up on The Magicians. I watched it last year because I read the book a while ago and was hoping the show would be better. It was, but not by much. I'm over it.

Riverdale, The 100, and Jane the Virgin are my weekly Netflix go-tos. I also watched Santa Clarita Diet and really enjoyed it. Nathan Fillion was a major highlight of it.

Do you watch Suits? We caught up on Netflix then realized we have the channel it comes on and are now totally caught up. I actually understood most of what happened this season and the finale was probably my favourite episode ever. 

We finished The Good Wife. I have a crush on Jeffrey Dean Morgan (except his waist is so tiny it makes me insecure) and it's rolling over into our Walking Dead watching. Is it wrong that I have a little crush on Negan?

missing: Spring and fall. I'm over winter (always am) but summer is too stinking hot here. I'm hoping the island sorts itself out and stops having winter and snow (what in the world?) and has balmy spring weather when we're there. Especially since I sweet talked my mom into taking me for a pedicure this Friday.

Things I've decided to stop doing.

Making plans with people. I've heard some really good excuses in the past year when I've asked someone to hang out. My personal favourite is from back in February when I asked a friend if she wanted to get together for coffee sometime to tell me all about her super awesome vacation she just went on. (Side note - no one really cares that much about your vacation, it's just an excuse to hang out.) She told me she was busy until April then hung out with our mutual friend the next day. We still haven't set up that coffee date. That's my bad for dropping in the "sometime." Being vague makes it more awkward for people to shoot you down. I haven't had much luck with the actual set dates either, though.

The problem with being a mom is that it's hard to maintain those great friendships with your non-parent friends because you run on totally different schedules. I'm pretty flexible, but being 6 1/2 months pregnant means I have a sizable to-do list, an early bedtime, and can't be farther than 100 feet away from a toilet at any given time. (Side note: I just realized why my dirty base boards are causing me serious anxiety. I'm nesting. Thank God there's a legitimate excuse for my insanity.) I used to really like being the childless friends, because we could go to our friends' places and play games once their brood was in bed, stay up late, and drink beer. Now no one wants to come over. Maybe our house smells like diapers.

The mom friend struggle is real, too. There are always kids to take into account, and we don't have many babysitting options outside of regularly scheduled working hours. I am morally opposed to paying a stranger to snoop through my things while my child sleeps. I just can't do it.

Trying to understand why the only ad I ever see on YouTube is for All Bran chili. When I think chili, I definitely think about all the fiber that I need to add on top of those beans. I can't even imagine feeding something that filled with fiber to Parker. Oh, the horrors! I also don't think my taste in music is that antiquated.

Figuring out what to talk to my hairdresser about. I love him. He does magic things to my hair for a good price. We just have nothing in common. The only things I have to talk about are my kid(s) and maybe Westworld, but I don't think he has cable. And he's 21 and gay, so no kids at the moment. I almost asked if he was excited for Gilmore Girls but I didn't want to stereotype.

Mopping my kitchen floor. If we ever send Parker to boarding school this will change, but until then I'll just spot clean between meals. What is even the point? A good vinegar spritz and a hot cloth should be just as good as a quality steam clean. It's not like there won't be more unidentifiable food smeared on the tile in 15 minutes anyway.

Coveting my mother in law's needle collection. So much beautiful colourful wood. I need to ask her to leave them for me in the will.

Expecting good things from a Starbucks. One would think that allergies being as common as they are, baristas would know which basic syrups contain dairy and which don't. Also which toppings to avoid putting on a dairy-free drink. One would clearly be expecting far too much.

Complaining. Anna out.

It's coming.

Last year at this time was the sickest time of my entire pregnancy. We had people over on Halloween to hand out candy, a couple friends over for dinner, and nearly had some family come for a quick visit. I was so tired I could barely move and so bloated and sick I just wanted to eat french fries and nap for a million years. I was so turned off of all things sugar that I hid a handful of Halloween candy in my underwear drawer for when I was feeling better. It was the first year my candy ever made it to Christmas. And the best part of being so sick? No one knew. Oh, the joys of the first trimester.

This year that same little kid made me sick on Halloween again. He's had a cold since Wednesday and I got it around 11:30 on Friday night as I was cleaning the kitchen, getting ready to have some friends over for breakfast the next morning. 

After the girls left on Saturday morning, Parker and I went into full hibernation mode and parked ourselves on the couch and watched unprecedented amounts of Gilmore Girls. He napped, we snuggled, and eventually Karl showed up from working half the day and they napped, snuggled, and I knit. We were supposed to go to some friends' for a fire, but instead I handed out candy for an hour and a half to the dozen kids that came to our door (whomp whomp) then watched Prison Break all night. Parker didn't even wear his costume. He had it on a couple days before for our mom group and my work's potluck so at least it got a little bit of mileage.

Would you believe that we didn't get a single minion at our door? There were no ladybugs either, but we got a bumblebee so it was acceptable.

Sunday I didn't even see or talk to anyone that hadn't slept in the same bed as me for at least part of the night before. And in case you're wondering how the whole sleeping in his own room thing is going, the answer is just fine. Except for the three whole nights he spent in our bed because he was so congested. There's nothing like being punched in the face first thing in the morning to wake you up. Last night was the first time he made it through the whole night in his crib, which would have been better if he wasn't hogging the only humidifier. Momma's got a cold, too, you know.

All I did yesterday was knit and watch TV. It was terrible and wonderful all at once. When you're the stay at home parent, being sick on a weekend is no longer the worst thing ever. Being sick is never any fun, but it's even less fun when there's a little person depending on you for food and entertainment. Karl left the breastfeeding up to me, and I left the everything else up to him. It was glorious.

My only regret, aside from being sick, is that the weather was really nice this weekend and we didn't get out for a walk. Winter storms are supposed to be coming in this week and with that all the dreaded snow. I'm not excited for Christmas yet, but give me a couple days of snow and the festive nesting will come out in full force. After Remembrance Day, of course.

These days.

We're in the process of surviving a rough couple weeks. We had family visit over the August long weekend, and my nephew, being a year and a half old, left his delightful toddler germs all over the house for someone to pick up. That someone was me.

I was pretty run down for a couple of days but Parker and I came out on the other side more or less unscathed. Parker, especially, survived it like a boss. It's that breastfeeding, I'm telling you. The kid practically has wings. Except, of course, he ended up getting my cold last Monday.

The thing about newborns and colds is that they're taken pretty seriously. He's basically just congested, and only this morning (a week later) I noticed that his nose is actually starting to run a little. All in all, a little congestion and a little coughing hasn't been too bad to deal with. During the day.

You'd think that for a little guy that can't walk around or even hold his head up for very long there wouldn't be a big difference between daytime cold and night time cold. I mean, he's laying down most of the time, anyway, so what's the big difference? I have no idea, but I do know that the poor kid grunts and snores like crazy at night time.

That first night of his cold he slept for a record six hours and 45 minutes. That's almost seven glorious, potentially blissful hours of uninterrupted mom sleep! You'd think. Except he spent a lot of the night grunting and rolling around so I, instead of getting to appreciate the miracle of him sleeping consecutively more that I have total in one night since he was born almost three months ago, spent a couple hours in the middle of the night staring at him, worrying, thinking he was moments away from waking up to feed. Since that fateful night two weeks ago sleep has been an absolute joke.

The next night the poor kid did his grunting routine all over again, so while Karl sat with him in the bathroom steaming up the place with the shower, I was on the phone with the health line at 4:30 in the morning, being instructed to take him into Emergency. Fun times.

Everything's fine, but they just wanted to make sure he didn't have an infection or anything. The doctor recommended that we might need to hold him up while he sleeps for a couple nights, just so he wasn't as irritated. Cue me spending a couple nights with him on my chest on the couch.

To be honest, there are few things nicer than sleeping with a snugly baby on your chest. The only downside is that you're constantly checking he's still alive now that the grunting has stopped and being so close to his own personal barista makes the baby forget that he can, in fact, go more than  2 1/2 hours at night without chowing down.

So I say to you, Sleep? What's that?

Yesterday was a tough day. It might be a coincidence but the last two times I've eaten ginger Parker (and coincidentally I as well) has had bad days afterwards. Ginger and I are officially going to take a mini break. No big loss, it's not like I have to give up goat dairy (bite your tongue!) or gluten (which would make the whole less carb thing much easier, don't you think?). It's worth it, too, to avoid days where Parker is a straight up bear to put down. Karl's words, not mine.

That beautiful child did not want to nap yesterday. My perfect self putting to sleep child up and left for the circus and left me with a no longer manageable to-do list and a very tired and grumpy bear. By about 3 p.m. the only thing that would calm him down was being held in a weird and awkward position then, once the screaming took a mini break, reclining with me on the couch and watching TV. I kid you not, he was mad as all heck until that TV turned on and he had a colourful distraction. He won't follow my finger with his eyes but already he's hooked on the screen time. Parenting win.

The only thing that got me through yesterday was the jumbo sized chocolate bars we keep well stocked in our cupboards. As soon as Karl came home I threw the baby at him and made myself that first well-deserved cup of coffee for the day. Hallelujah.

I was worried that yesterday's bearishness would move over to today but thank the good Lord he's been sleeping like a snotty little angel. He's all smiles and giggles and doesn't even care when I stick the sucker bulb in his nose hunting for gold. Another reason babies are either psychopaths or amazing secret agents that could withstand any torture. Please don't put anything up my nose. Thanks.

Today's been a good day, though. Lots of napping, giggles, and potty training. Yeah, be jealous. Not only does my child (generally) put himself down for a nap, but he knows exactly when and where to relieve himself. That's right, he does his biggest business while he's either eating or naked on his change table. Feeding a grunting, writhing, occasionally wailing baby is super fun and efficient, let me tell you. So is trying to time diaper removal with the end of the grunting, writhing, and occasional wailing. Parker actually thinks this is hysterical when he's on his change pad and very distressing if he's eating. But hey, at least he's potty trained.

Speaking of Parker's development, we're actually a little concerned about him, if I'm being honest. He's already outgrown some of his socks with rubber grips on the bottom and he's not even closer to walking yet.

In other news, last week we'd finally had enough with our obscenely squeaky bed and bought a new one. It is amazing. It's probably a bit big for our little bedroom but it sits so much higher, looks so much more grown up, and doesn't make a peep when you so much as scratch your nose. I feel like I'm living in a hotel. The only problem is that our dressers now take up a bit too much space and the new bed frame is almost the same colour as our walls. We basically need to do a renovation to make the space work better for our bed. My new dream is to replace our dressers with a full wall wardrobe. Have you ever looked into how much that kind of thing costs? I think it would be cheaper to just build a bigger house. Painting also takes a lot of work, so I might just finally hang some pictures in our room and pretend like that fixes things. But winter is long and full of and nothing but boring, so painting might be a good time killer.

I've been practicing wearing Parker in his wrap lately. He doesn't really love it, but we're flying home just the two of us next week and I fully plan on taking advantage of my carry on allowances to save money. One checked bag, one carry on suitcase, one diaper bag, and one wiggly child are too much. So I'm going to put that wiggly child in his carrier that he may or may not hate and just thank my lucky stars that we're borrowing the baby trifecta on the other side (car seat, pack n play, and stroller) so that I don't have to worry about lugging them up to the check in counter, too. I'm not so secretly hoping that they let me check in my carry on suitcase for free since it's smaller than any of the other three items they'd me bring along. Parker's getting pretty good at flirting so I'm optimistic. People just swoon over a baby with a mustache.

I anticipate that he'll probably sleep through the two (UGH) flights. It's only four hours from initial take off to when we land in Victoria so we'll just be praying for no delays, empty planes, and good attitudes all around. I'm bringing him a bottle and me some cookies to hopefully make things less awkward. The cookies are mostly to make me feel better and soothe my nerves but I'm also not opposed to using them to bribe fellow passengers for forgiveness of my screaming child. That's not true, actually. He's much more likely to spit up on them than scream. I'll be packing extra burp cloths. And clothes, for me and my fellow passengers. Honestly, I'm used to regurgitated milk in my bra at this point, so it's no big deal. I just pray that I don't have to pee while we're on the plane or he's having a carrier-related meltdown. Nothing makes strangers uncomfortable quite like listening to screaming while they pee. I assume. Lord, have mercy.

I was going to add pictures but the baby's squawking and, miracle of miracles, I wrote this all in one go, with only one bum change in the middle. Parker's, not mine. Awkward.

Welcome to my head.

Now that I’m pregnant people ask how I’m feeling all the time. All. The. Time.

We had a new receptionist start and I’m technically her supervisor but not because I’m going on mat leave and what’s the point, right? So even though I’m kind of her supervisor and she’s never heard me complain about anything on her second day she still asked how I was feeling. Tired, like a whale, and a little hormonal, how about you?  Or how about, like there’s a bag of rice sitting on my bladder at all times so can we keep this conversation short? Oh wait, the bag of rice is kicking my delicate bits and if you don’t move I might pee on you. I’m also gassy, so don’t breathe too deeply. But my hair is super thick and shiny, just don’t mind the GRAY I pulled out of there yesterday morning. It’s still sitting on the bathroom counter awaiting further inspection. And don’t look too closely at my eyebrows because now I no longer have just one light coloured hair in there, but about eight. And I’m too afraid to rip them out to see whether they’re blonde or white or grey because I’ve done the over plucking thing before and never fully recovered, physically or emotionally. Just thinking about it makes me queasy.

And don’t come too close because baby muffin top is a real thing and nothing makes me feel more like trailer trash. As much as I appreciate the one person who said, via Skype, that “it’s all baby!” it’s so totally not. It’s every bad food choice I ever have or ever will make in my lifetime. And there’s a little boy in there somewhere, too, playing patty cake with my insides, but he’s the least of my worries.

The baby usually moves around like crazy at bed time when I’m just laying down to read. The other day he was kind of lazy so Karl thought it would be great to poke him and wake him up. The kid sure showed us and moved preeeetty much all night long. Every time I rolled (which is becoming more and more now that I’m bigger and bigger) he rolled, too. And our bed squeaked its new squeak. And I slowly lost my mind.

When we moved into our house our bed frame picked up a creak. It drove me nuts at first but I eventually got used to it when I realized there was nothing I could do. Well now it has a metal squeak. All I can say is, I haven’t gained THAT much weight that our stupid IKEA bed shouldn’t be able to maintain our girth. If I didn’t have this bowling ball attached to my abdomen I would totally tear that bed apart, throwing the mattress against the wall, beating the frame with a screwdriver and swearing at it until it caved into silent submission.  But I do and tying my shoes is getting harder so my mattress throwing days are probably over for now.

I had an intern at my doctor’s appointment the other day. She was very nice, but very thorough. I probably should have showered beforehand. I’m now worried that there will be a doctor, an intern, and however many nurses and what have yous delivering my baby when the time comes. And maybe their intern friends. Maybe they’ll have their cell phones out, too. And then… Oh, no, the possibilities are just  too traumatic to go into.

I always said that I wouldn’t let myself become a teaching opportunity. Sorry guys, go learn on someone who’s done this a couple times. Now, though, I just know that if Dr. Intern wants to see how it’s done and/or deliver my kid I’ll probably let her. Because I’m too frigging nice. And I liked her well enough. And did you catch it? She’s a her. I didn’t even know women wanted to deliver babies in this day and age.

I have a craving for Fruit Loops. I had a lot of cookies this weekend, but some Fruit Loops with unsweetened almond milk sounds like nectar from the gods rights about now. Some smell in the parking lot made me think of them and now I’m flashing back to summer vacations watching Grey’s Anatomy and eating dry Fruit Loops alone on my mom’s living room floor. Except now I’ll be watching Friday Night Lights with my husband and my unborn child auditioning for Stomp and there will be almond milk in there to cut back on the SUGAR. Which, let’s be honest, I don’t really need any more of. I got weighed on Monday. I’ve gained 23 pounds. And that’s not counting the extra 5-10 lbs of holiday weight I was packing right before my birth control stopped working. Thus the unsweetened almond milk. Also, sweet almond milk is vile, except for maybe in a latte or something.

So, in case you’re wondering, I’m kind of hoping this little boy weighs about 30 lbs when he comes out at this point in time. Probably by c-section if that’s the case. Then with all the extra birth stuff that comes out I can finally get started on my six pack. Hey, a girl can dream.  Or maybe he’ll weigh seven lbs and my placenta will make up the difference. I still want him to be snuggly, after all.  Yeah, I’m going to go with that. Or maybe my leg will just fall off and I can be all, baby weight? What baby weight? I woke up like this!

I had my first fender bender on Tuesday. Well, the first one in traffic where it wasn’t just me versus a parked Mercedes. It was stressful. I’m stressful. What was even more stressful was the fact that I wore a dress to work. Why is that stressful? Because I went to the doctor yesterday afternoon just in case. When you’re growing a baby the doctor always checks the heartbeat at every appointment. That means that pants are a good option. Well, it’s not like the guy isn’t going to deliver my baby or anything, but does he really need to see me in my maternity tights? The answer is no, nobody does.

Thankfully the damage to my car is minor, and the fellow that hit me seemed okay if a little stressed himself. I was a stress case all day, though, and of course I almost got rear ended again this morning by some goon. I would have had a full on melt down and refused to get back in my car until Karl came and picked me up. But I swear I’m not the problem. Regina drivers are the worst. And my doctor telling me that typically car accidents mean you go to the hospital (even if you’re feeling fine?) and that my baby is – and this is a direct quote – “still alive” didn’t help me feel much better about things.

In case you’re still worried, I’m fine and baby’s fine. The guy that hit me was going sideways when it happened so he was clearly attempting to at least stop. My neck was a little stiff yesterday, but that might have had to do with my ridiculously high level of Tuesday-related stress. I got paper cut from a file when I got to work. Then the screen protector started to come off my phone. I so should have stayed in bed yesterday.

It’s been a weird up and down and down then up kind of week. Part of that is 110% the fault of the baby hormones. Monday was good, Tuesday was just terrible, and today started off with me thinking that I seriously should have considered calling in sick because the terrible Tuesday feelings hadn’t really dissipated. Then things started to pick up a little, I got my hands on some dark chocolate peanut butter cups and an iced Americano, finally made it to the post office, and all was well. Plus, my huge stress cloud started to disperse. That thing was no joke. It made me want to crawl under my duvet and cry for four hours. That’s baby hormones for you, making you feel like an irrational teenager all over again.

I have no idea how pregnant teenagers do it. I have a lot more empathy towards them now. I mean, I think I’ve done pretty well with the crazy hormones but when I get stressed, especially where the baby‘s wellbeing is potentially concerned, things can go sideways pretty quickly. Which clearly doesn’t help anything ever but that’s the way it is.

I also think that my stress level has a negative impact on how much the baby moves. It’s like he’s already learning to stay out of my way when I’m in a bad mood, but it kind of has the opposite effect. What I really want when I’m losing my mind is to feel the little sea monster tell me that he’s okay. I mean, I’d rather it come with a jab in my abdomen than my lower regions, but I’m not going to fault the little guy for at least trying.

Anyway.

I want an ice cream maker. And a bigger crock pot. And better food processor. These should be my 2015 goals. My current food processor was a hand-me-down from my mother in law. It works well enough, but it’s got a crack in the bowl and it’s only a matter of time until it doesn’t do its thing anymore. I also feel like I could get something that works better.

My crock pot and I are really working on our relationship. When we moved to Regina I tried using it again for the first time since we were newlyweds. I mastered one recipe. I’m trying to branch out a bit but I lack a lot of motivation. I made beef dip this week for the first time ever, though, and it was life altering. And there were leftovers. Crock pot meals that come with leftovers are like heaven smiling down on me. So easy! Anyway, our crock pot isn’t very big and I want to be able to start freezing some leftovers. Thus the need for a bigger crock pot. I need to be a super mom, after all.

And an ice cream maker. I hear there’s an attachment you can get for your KitchenAid. How amazing would that be? I really like ice cream (because I’m a human with a heartbeat) but I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t as sweet as it always it and maybe had more stuff in it. Like muffins, I don’t need my ice cream to bring all the sweet. I’m happy to just eat coconut whipped cream plain or with a little vanilla. Make it a little colder, and add some fudgy or doughy bits in there? Sorry, my rumbling tummy just woke up the baby. With some beef dip beforehand? If I got hit by a meteor after eating that I would die happy and accomplished. Some sort of ice cream making tool would really make my life better. Just saying.

I should mention that when I have a baby shower. Sure, baby stuff is all well and good, but I would definitely be a better mother if I had an ice cream maker, bigger crock pot, and superior food processor. The crock pot could even double as a baby bath. Minimalism at its finest.

In other news, I want to be a hat person. I think I pull of a toque reasonably well, but I really want to be able to pull off those straw fedoras that are like what Bruno Mars wears. At least, I think he might wear hats like that. I want to be that cool. I keep trying, too, but every time I try one on either my mom or husband laughs at me. And then I get offended, look at myself in the mirror, and realize they’re right and that I do look absurd. Then I pout about it because why can’t I wear cool hats like that?

Karl and I are going to look at a glider tomorrow night and I think it might be “the one”. Most gliders are micro suede, which we hate, and cost as much as a small car. They may or may not come with the coveted foot stools. This one isn’t micro suede, doesn’t come with a foot rest, and costs less than a bicycle. Initially we wanted it all, and I was willing to recover/replace cushions if possible. But then I had a reality check and decided that it’s okay to settle sometimes. The thing is, I don’t sew. At all, really. I would attempt a no-sew cushion cover if I had to, but in my perfect world I could just bust out the staple gun and have my way with things. I still could, I guess, but the results would likely vary. This glider we’re looking at is dark wood, so it’s going to get painted an actual colour, but the cushions are oatmeal and they look like they’re in good shape, plus they don’t really clash with the whole ambience of the room. They’re also the kind of thing that could be easily replaced or (maybe) recovered the no-sew way. So probably just replaced. And foot rests aren’t really that hard to figure out or critical.  

This is my life. Trying to figure out baby room furniture, art, what not. We need to pull the room’s closet door out of the garage and paint it white, make sure it has knobs, etc. I also need to find some baskets and itty bitty coat hangers for the closet so I have something new to cry over. Aaaand I need to look at all the clothes we were given and figure out what else we’re going to need. We have some big decisions ahead. Stroller brand? Baby wrap brand? Bottle brand? Do we have any blankets for him? Mesh bumpers for the crib? A mobile? Am I the worst mother in the world that the blinds we’re hanging aren’t anywhere close to blackout  and I refuse to use a sound machine? What about a video baby monitor? I know it’s like spying on your kids, but he’s so young he won’t even know. He’ll grow up in a world where he has a cell phone by the time he’s three (JUST KIDDING) and 20,000 Facebook friends so being on camera 24/7 will totally be normal. Besides, I don’t want to be the mom that goes into her kid’s room twenty times a night to make sure he’s still there. I’ll just check my video monitor even more. We’re also not planning on keeping him in our room for long because we want him to get used to neglect at an early age. Also, our bedroom is small and whatever he sleeps in (crap… something else to figure out) will probably be right in the way. So I feel like getting our kid used to constant scrutiny is the best choice for us. Although have you seen how much those things cost? Might as well just get him an iPhone and be done with it.

FYI, this post took three days to write. I bet you’d never guess that by the paltry 2,500+ word count but I totally tricked you. Is it Friday yet?

So good.

Things that make me happy:

Warmer temperatures. Not being so distressed by winter that I can appreciate temperatures just below freezing. I had energy this morning that had to do with the lack of ice crystals in the air the sun being up before I got to work. Spring in Regina is different from spring in Victoria, but it’s almost sweeter when you know you’ve toiled through it. Talk to me in a year when I’ve been stuck inside with an infant, though, and we’ll see where I’m at.

 

Clearance sections. I’m frivolous, but I got a $30 shirt for $3 yesterday. 90% off might be my shopping love language. Scratch that because I got a $15 tank top for $1 and I’m not very good at fractions anymore, but is that like 93% off? Whatever it is, I felt like I was shoplifting I got such a good deal.

Michaels coupons. 40% your entire purchase of regular priced yarn? Did I just die and go to heaven? Blanket knitting heaven?

Cookies. I’ve made three different recipes this week and I’m totally baked out but I can definitely appreciate the spoils of my baking victories, if not the current state of my kitchen (chaos, anarchy, goblins).

Friends. Email me. Text me. Facebook me. Carrier pigeon me. I’m glad you’re in my life.

My bed. Best place on earth. Truly. Except our IKEA bed frame has picked up a new squeak and I only remember it when I’m crawling into bed and don’t have the energy to track it down and kill it.

 

Sweat pants. No one had better knock on our door this weekend because I’m going to be a knock out in those bad boys all weekend long.

Books. I’ve started a twelve-book series and I haven’t had any solid time to really lose myself in the second book. That’s what tomorrow’s for. Tea, oranges, and cookies in my rocking chair and sweatpants. Because you know how I feel about baked goods and sweatpants.

 

Oranges. I can’t get enough. At least two day, please, if not three. Big navel oranges are even better. I just need them in my life.

 

Iced Americanos. I don’t care how cold it is outside.

 

The baby’s room. It’s almost painted. We get the change table soon. The weather’s almost warm enough to open the windows. We’re going to buy a respirator mask and I’m going to paint the change table and whatever else gets in my way. Can I finally get around to chalkboard painting the office door? Is the closet door for baby’s room really hiding somewhere in our garage? Can we find it and paint it white? Buy little baskets and coat hangers for his impossibly small clothes? Get a new light fixture that isn’t brass? Find a carpet? Knit him a blanket? Set up the crib? Have a little cry? Wash teeny socks? Find a glider? CAN I PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE?

The weekend. Two days to do whatever I want. Bring it on.

We wait for this day all week.

You guuuuuuuys! It’s Friday. Michael’s has a 25% off your whole purchase including sale items coupon today. I’m going to go stand in their yarn aisle for an hour drooling debating over which colours to get. Seriously, last time I went there it took me so long I needed a snack after. Today will be no exception. I will be snack ready.

I ate five vegan doughnuts in two days because I was hungry and they were brought especially from Vancouver by my friend Kim and I didn’t want them to go stale. Also, first apple fritter in years. If ever there was a moment to belly bump this would be it. I need you to know this so that I can accountable. Also so you don’t ask if I’m having twins. Because it’s just one baby and five doughnuts. Man, those doughnuts can kick.

 

There were six doughnuts in the box but one was some sort of spicy cayenne pepper raspberry. Karl and I just aren’t alternative enough to appreciate that kind of pairing. It felt wrong to throw out a doughnut but we got over it pretty quick when the aftertaste lingered.

 

The prospect of this weekend just makes me giddy. New yarn and two days off to relish in it? Yes, please. Karl and I are also doing the epic date night this evening. Going for dinner to burn a gift card, buying some paint for the baby’s room (YES!), and then watching Need for Speed on the PVR. Dessert is margarita popsicles. Because married people have all the fun in the world.

Sunday is a fun day for us. The church plant we’re involved with is having its final preview service on Sunday. That means it’s the last chance to work out the kinks before officially kicking off for good at the end of March. I never thought we’d be involved in a church plant, but it’s really exciting. The way everything worked out with it so well, too, makes me think it might be part of the reason we were brought to Regina. Regina needed my baking skills and Karl’s setup abilities to help make this church grow.

Because the church is a mobile church it doesn’t have a permanent Sunday morning building. That means it meets in an elementary school gym Sunday mornings. There are a lot of elementary schools (at least three within easy walking distance) in our neighbourhood and initially the church was at a school a twelve minute walk from home. Not that we walked, because it was -35 and the sidewalks are covered in ice, but still. That’s close. That location didn’t end up working out, though, so now it’s moved to a school that’s a four minute walk from our house. I don’t think we’ll ever drive because it would take longer to find parking than actually walking would. Especially once baby shows up.

 

Being involved with our small group and now this plant has made living in this arctic tundra a lot easier. It’s given us a chance to get connected with a community and is challenging us to do more than just be pew sitters. And not just because mobile churches can’t fit pews in their trailers.

Today has been a really good day for people sending me pictures of their babies. If you have a child and haven’t sent me adorable pictures of them recently I think it’s time to revaluate your priorities. I accept texts and emails.

I’m starting to get some mild baby fever, probably because of the one growing inside of me at this very moment. We’ll be watching TV, Karl will fast forward through the commercials, a picture of a baby will pop up and I’ll literally squeal or shriek. Baby! It doesn’t help that there are so many baby boys around us.

Karl and I both got really excited when we realized that he’s going to have a NASCAR watching buddy in a few months. For once I probably won’t mind the hours and hours of NASCAR being played on our television as the menfolk get their bonding time in and I get my Anna time in. Or maybe I’ll just sleep on the couch next to them because the sound of those cars going around the track is very soothing. That makes the impending doom of NASCAR season a little more bearable.

I had a total baby brain moment today. I’m on kitchen duty at work this week which basically means I just need to run the dishwasher at the end of the day. No problem. A monkey could do that. All I have to do is open the dishwasher, put the tablet it, close the little tablet’s door, shut the dishwasher, and then turn it on. So. Simple. Well, this morning I found the tablet, after I’d put all the dishes away, in its metallic plastic wrap at the bottom of the dishwasher, looking slightly singed. Because apparently if you don’t take the tablet out of its package it becomes a fire hazard and the dishes don’t actually get cleaned. But... I’m sure the hot water sanitized them. If we all get E.coli feel free to blame me. Hey, I drank out of a dirty glass all day and I’m still here.

P.S. I’m not getting emailed on all of your blog comments. So if I’m not responding within a couple days it’s not because I’m lazy (anymore) it’s because I’m not getting notified (I have no idea why) or you’re a no-reply commenter (i.e. your email isn’t attached to your comment). I still think you’re great.

I spent three days by myself.

My car got stuck in the snow this weekend. I guess that’s what happens when it snows 10-15 cm in five hours. I was not impressed. I was even less impressed when I realized that the shovel that should be the in the trunk of the car was not there. I had managed to maneuver my car from its parking spot to behind someone else’s car, effectively blocking them in. I felt like a real champion. Thankfully the grandmother I had blocked in was a good person and didn't rage at me or ram my car. She talked me through rocking my car out of the snow, got a shovel from a nearby business, and shovelled me out when needed. She even offered me words of encouragement while standing out there in the wind chills of at least -20.

In hindsight I shouldn't have gone out in the snow, but I figured if I could get out of our garage, out of our laneway, and make it to a main road without getting stuck I was going to be fine. I had a hair appointment to get to and live in Saskatchewan for crying out loud. Nothing shuts down life in Saskatchewan, not even -72 degrees with the wind chill. I wasn't about to let a little snow stop me from driving ten minutes down the road. Especially if it meant someone else was going to wash my hair for me.

When I made it home from my hair cut, miraculously alive and in my own car, I had a good cry. You don’t get stuck in the snow in a parking lot while you’re husband’s out of town with no idea who to call or what to do while you’re pregnant and HAVE TO PEE even though you just went without getting to cry a little bit about it.

So I skipped church Sunday morning because my desire to get stuck in the snow again was, on a scale of one to ten, a negative eight. I did go to the gym, however, because it was close by and I needed to walk out my winter stress to the sweet sound of Mike Holmes trash talking another contractor’s work. And I won't be able to walk outside again until some time in April or when the snow and ice are fully melted.

It was Family Day here in Saskatchewan and probably other provinces too, this weekend. That meant a blissful three day weekend after only 2 ½ days of work for me. Karl went to Alberta but I just didn't have it in me so I stayed home, read, watched a couple movies (The Fault in our Stars and The Book Thief. Both were good and one made me ugly cry for a solid 30 minutes. I’m sure you know which one I'm talking about), and cleaned the house. There’s nothing like spending a few days home sick to make you realize how important it is to keep your house clean all the time. Especially if your morning sickness comes back even a little bit. Head in toilet = need for super clean toilet.

The three day weekend meant that I could be lazy and productive all once. Those three bathrooms I'm super grateful for yet terrified of all got cleaned more than ever before, the kitchen was scrubbed, the floors done, the laundry washed, and I organized the office and hall closet. I even washed all my bras. I feel like (embarrassingly) that’s the most neglected washing I do, so it needs to be added to the list. When all was said and done I made myself dinner and felt like I needed a glass of wine to celebrate. It’s not like I went hardcore on the cleaning or anything, and I did it over three days, but wine and productive house cleaning seem to go hand and hand to me. It’s not even that I wanted wine, it just felt like a wine moment. So I drank water.

After more crawling around on the floor than usual (but the baseboards behind my toilets are SPOTLESS) my body has given up. Bending over is my least favourite activity today. Putting on tights this morning was a challenge. I've become a grunter. Tying up my runners at the gym yesterday was hard, especially trying not to sound like a baby warthog. I refuse to believe that, with another 15 ½ weeks to go, I'm already losing my ability to bend forward. I blame the cleaning and the coughing before that. My abs just need a break. I really really hope.

When Karl got home yesterday he got the fun job of shovelling our 10-15 cm of fresh snow that accumulated while he was away. To give you some perspective of what it actually was, though, the snow was higher than my boots, walking from our back door to our garage. The drifts on one side of our garage go up close to my waist and I am a woman of average height, people. You want to come over and build an igloo? Just kidding, we’d freeze to death. Come over and we’ll have tea and I’ll make more banana cinnamon buns and we’ll turn the heat up and the humidifier on and pretend like we’re in Cost Rica.

Every time I look at the snow I see my poor little Mazda stuck in it. I think I'm emotionally done with this winter. Every time I see a picture of home and the flowers are blooming and the sun is shining and people aren't wearing parkas and the ski hills are closed because NOT ENOUGH SNOW I want to throw my phone again the wall. For serious.

I finished off my weekend on a high note yesterday, though. You know where this is going, I’m sure. Waffles.

It’s been year since I used my waffle maker and I always had it in my head that waffles were a lot of work. Clearly I was using too fancy of a recipe. Waffles are amazing and simple and taste so darn good when covered with coconut whipped cream, sliced banana, and a dusting of brown sugar/cinnamon/cocoa. They were everything I’d hoped they would be. And now that I know they take less time than pancakes to make, I’ll probably make them more than I care to admit. Because waffles, you guys. Waffles!

Day six.

I went back to work this morning because I've been getting a bit more sleep (sitting up, on the couch) and my cough isn't as dry as it once was. Then I had my monthly doctor's appointment and it turns out I might have pneumonia. I'm now on antibiotics and off work until the antibiotics kick in or they don't and we need to figure something else out. So keep those Netflix recommendations rolling.

I've never had pneumonia before. I think I had whooping cough once in elementary school and I felt very classy when they gave me a puffer to deal with it. Aw, yeah. Cool kids wore glasses and had puffers. I had a really skewed view of what was cool.

My mom had pneumonia once and it was so bad that she was hospitalized and had to have surgery. When the doctor said it might be pneumonia I figured my unborn child and I might as well say our goodbyes and clear out my desk because we're not long for this world. According to Wikipedia (all hail the fountain of all knowledge!) pneumonia can be a bunch of different things. I took that to mean that since I'm not getting any sicker I probably won't die, and the baby will probably be just fine, and I'm just crossing my fingers that it's bacterial so I can get back to work sometime this week. 

All things considered, though, aside from the hacking and not sleeping well, this is probably the best kind of sick to be. Honestly, it's not that I want to go back to work, because life at home on the couch isn't the worst kind of life there is, but it does get old eventually and a person only gets so many sick days, you know?

At least it's still snowing out. I'm not missing any glorious or survivable weather.

I'm thinking that I need to make margarita popsicles. With just the margarita mix, obviously. That way I can say I'm home, resting up, and having margaritas with my unborn baby. Gotta bring the party somehow. Speaking of bringing the party, I had a dream that I was at a wedding last night and had three or four adult beverages before realizing that might make me a really bad mom. And then there was a giant tsunami and zombies to deal with so I got distracted. 

In case you're wondering, I did end up blocking the blanket I was battling internally over. It's taking an absurd amount of time to dry, though, so I can't actually tell if it worked or not. I'm going to say it did, to keep my sanity. If it's still damp later tonight I'm going to hit it my hair dryer and force the magic to happen that much faster.

Next time I promise not to inundate you with the germy details. Unless I cough up something really cool, in which case I'll just Instagram it. Just kidding, don't leave me. You're my only contact to the outside world.

I eat like an adult

We had pancakes and sausage for dinner. Because the doctor said sulphites were bad but whatever at least it's not tequila. There were blueberries and chocolate chips in them because I couldn't decide and it's -40 with the wind chill right now. That means exposed flesh freezes instantly. Not that I've experienced that. It also means that your car needs to be plugged in or there is a high likelihood it too will be dead in the morning. Basically, not even cars can survive this kind of weather. So pancakes and sausage with surprise dark bits (at least they aren't raisins). You're following that reasoning, right?

Karl had to go buy syrup. I slowly starved to death while waiting but if you're going to do pancakes on a Tuesday you'd better do them right.

I'm reading Food: A Love Story by Jim Gaffigan right now. Way better than Bossypants. I'm having a bit of a hard time reading it only because I do it at bedtime and it's too funny. I keep wanting to tell Karl the funny bits, which with most books is okay, but that would be basically reading him the book. I highly recommend it. Unless you're pregnant and have food aversions because it's about food.

I missed Downton Abbey on Sunday because our PVR decided to stop working while we were on holiday. Thank God for Netflix. All I wanted to do when we got home was spend the weekend watching TV.

I went back to the gym yesterday for the first time in almost three months. I felt like a new years revolutionary. It was pretty easy to spot who was, too. They travelled in groups of two and didn't get much done aside from signing up. That's half the battle, folks. No one can say they didn't go to the gym.

It was actually really hard to go yesterday even though I was SO READY. And by SO READY I mean that I had to wear my ugly yoga pants, miraculously fit into my sports bra (barely), and was sporting a pretty confusing gut. It's not a perfectly firm baby bump, and depending what pants I'm wearing it just looks like I really, really enjoy a good beer and pizza. Together. Every night. While doing anything but physical activity.

I've been having a heck of a time finding a good pair of maternity leggings. Walmart was a total bust (not unexpected) and Motherhood Maternity was kind of like a scene from a nightmare. Three and a half times the price of Walmart and just as high quality. And their clearance t-shirts were $30. Maybe more people would buy maternity clothes if a whole outfit didn't cost the same as a black market baby.

I set the alarm on my phone to tell me to go to bed at 10 tonight. It's getting real. I have to remind myself to make good life sleeping choices.

And on that note, I have just enough time to watch a show on Netflix.

In which I give you all the details you may or may not want.

I promise not to blog exclusively about being pregnant. Just because I can talk more about my body that I could before doesn't mean I should. So I'll try to share without over-sharing.

I'll start by answering the second question I want to blurt out whenever I hear someone's pregnant (the first being when baby's due) and just let you know that yes, baby was planned. What wasn't planned was how quickly baby would settle itself in there, but we aren't complaining. We knew that it could be a long and potentially heartbreaking process ahead of us so we were prepared. Well, as much as we could be I guess. We didn't want to get our hopes up, which is hard for someone as impatient as me.

We clearly didn't need to worry because pretty much the second I stopped taking my birth control things started to happen. And I know we're incredibly lucky.

As for your first question, the answer is June 5th. Six months from today. Eep.

I started off the whole growing a baby thing thinking I had a cold. One was going around the office and I wasn't feeling quite right. Then things started to run a little behind schedule and survey said it was a little bit more than a cold. Then I started getting tired, not wanting to drink coffee, not wanting to drink tea, not wanting to eat things, not being able to function at the gym, wanting to take three hour naps, feeling like puking every time I stood for longer than 30 seconds, and oh look, we were deep in the throes of my first trimester.

Pregnancy exhaustion is no joke. I will never again doubt anyone who says they're tired when they're pregnant. I was so tired that I had to do as much as possible sitting down because standing up used WAY too much energy and made me feel like puking. Or overheating. I used to love hot showers but all of a sudden showering became this five minutes of sheer torture. Too much standing. Too much energy. Too much pressure. Just toooooo much. My legs didn't get shaved for the entire month of October and then some.

I would sleep in my car for a full hour on my lunch break, come home and collapse into my rocking chair, unable to even make dinner. Two or three minutes in the kitchen did me in. Then I would go to bed a couple hours earlier than normal and sleep like a dead person until my alarm went off. On Saturdays and Sundays I would take two or three hour naps and only drag myself out of bed because HUNGRY but no all your food is gross except for maybe french fries and thank God for prenatal vitamins otherwise baby would totally have scurvy by now. Except I love mandarins and get can't get enough. But you get my point.

I had this dream of making banana bread cinnamon buns and drinking coffee in my rocking chair after a really successful workout but then I didn't want sugar or coffee and couldn't actually bake anything  let alone go to the gym because wow is it nap time yet?

Seriously. All I wanted to do was sleep. Actually, that's kind of still the case. Karl and I went for a 25 minute walk around the neighbourhood one afternoon and I was a complete wreck that night. I felt like the nausea was going to kill me.

Anyway, after one particularly crappy weekend where I barfed Saturday and Sunday (I've only hurled three times, guys!) I had enough and figured that while I'm not the worst off in the world my quality of life wasn't what it could be. So I went to the clinic and the oldest doctor in the world (I kid you not, I thought he was a senile patient at first) saved my sanity and hooked me up with some Diclectin. And may God bless modern medicine.

I popped my first pill around noon and by the end of the day I could function. The drugs got rid of the nausea (more or less) and actually helped reduce my exhaustion. So I spent the next weekend baking up a storm and feeling more like myself than I had for ages.

Truthfully, I was only really sick for two or three weeks. I'm still tired and I'm still nauseous but when I compare it to how I felt before you won't hear me complain. Unless I'm trying to get Karl to do the dishes or something.

This week has felt a bit like a bit of  a step back for me and I didn't go to work yesterday because I was too tired and couldn't imagine sitting at my desk, feeling as ick as I did and getting anything done. So I slept for another three hours, caught up on TV, finished knitting a couple blankets, and had my first ever full physical. I'm still tired, a little nauseous, and came home and cried after spending 45 minutes in Walmart tonight but that could happen to anyone at any time.

I also have to admit that I bought maternity jeans a good two or three weeks ago. I'm not sure if I just ignored it before, but pregnancy and gas are a real thing. And not necessarily gas leaving your body in an embarrassing and unsocially acceptable manner, but in the way that your innards start slowing down and you have a massive baby bump sooner than you ever thought imaginable but really it's just a gas baby causing you pain and your clothes to look tighter. Which is why I was skulking around the maternity section of Old Navy on my lunch break one day, praying that nobody I knew would see me. 

I bought a belly band this weekend and it's amazing. I can wear pants that would otherwise cause me physical pain to do up with no problems. It's almost like wearing sweatpants. True story, I've been dying to get pregnant ever since I first heard of belly bands just so I could get one. Every day can be a fat day! And, yes, I have a little bump, but it just looks like a pot belly.

And on that note, even though it's Friday it's after 10 and that means that I'm about 15 minutes away from turning into an incoherent pile of tears and exhaustion. And all this talk about nausea is making me nauseous. Time to sleep it off for 12 hours.

Start spreading the news.

2015 is going to be a big year.

Big. Huge. Colossal.

They're coming out with a new Star Wars. A new Jurassic Park. A new Princess Diaries book.

And I'm going to be big. Huge. Colossal, too.

Because we're increasing our ranks and adding a mini Morton to the mix.

Coming at you June 2015.

Mark your calendars!

Lately

Looking at pictures of peoples' instagramed hot chocolates with mini marshmallows in them fills me with a longing like none other. I went so far as to buy mini marshmallows the other day but haven't gotten around to actually making hot chocolate with the mini marshmallows. I'm not sure I really want it, I just love the idea of it.

I love the Minimalist Baker blog. I've made their pumpkin soup, biscuits, and pumpkin swirl cheesecake in the last month or so since discovering it. The soup I've made twice. The cheesecake (made with tofu, so no actual cheesecake) I made the mistake of eating right before bed. My dreams involved eating really dense cake and dealing with bad guys at the same time.

I almost accidentally deleted my entire iTunes library. I found it, but it was a distressing three minutes. I found out when I tried to put on the Relient K Christmas CD and it was MIA and so was pretty much everything else. It's okay, while it all restores itself to its right and proper folder YouTube is filling the void.

I made blueberry muffins yesterday for the first time ever. I took a recipe for reference and then completely bastardized it to suit my needs. It was the closest I've ever come to not using a recipe. I felt powerful. Karl was sceptical but after he ate four muffins for dessert I figured he approved. 

I decorated this weekend. Last week was an exhausting week at work and it was perfect. We're going away this next weekend and then it's December so it was necessary.

I have to say, having a mantle is wonderful. I haven't quite mastered decorating it yet, but I expanded into the realm of garland this year so I'm branching out. All we need is a baby Jesus sitting in our unused fireplace/manger and it'll be like the first Christmas all over again. I will drum on the Tupperware to make it really authentic.

I can't believe that we start advent calendaring on Monday. This year I'm sharing in the joy by co-parenting a tea advent calendar with a co-worker. It might be the only thing that keeps me going to the office next month. It's really hard to work when you have a Christmas tree that needs to be stared at, candles that need to be burnt, and cookies that need to be baked. Not to mention a husband that needs to be coerced into a haircut for a Christmas photo, let alone the photo itself. And, of course, Christmas movies that need to be watched.

I watched A Christmas Story 2 with Karl on Sunday. Did you know that was even a thing? There's a little less fa-ra-ra-ra-raing but it was still entertaining. Not as good as the old school original (this one's from 2012) but I liked it enough up until I fell asleep at the end. To be fair, though, I'd had a rough night digesting faux-cheesecake in lieu of getting a proper sleep.

Speaking of sleep, my bed is calling.

Keeping it relevant (but not really).

I'm sitting in bed right now. It's very cozy. By being in bed I will not give into the inevitable hour of word vomitting that blogging tends to entail. So this is quick. And short. And sweet. Because I just want to be relevant, okay? Don't you forget about me.

My mom left today after a week here. It was nice. I had the time off work and we just hung out. It was about as relaxing as can be.

We went a 1:15 p.m. showing of the new Liam Neeson movie one day. It wasn't what we meant to go see, which was that movie with Tina Fey, but I got confused and it wasn't playing. Regardless, seeing movies in the middle of a weekday is kind of amazing. Especially at the discount theatre, with a Groupon, and a large popcorn mostly to myself. Fifteen year old me is rolling her eyes really hard right now.

Tonight our small group got together and carved pumpkins. We were the only childless couple there but we showed up and brought our mad skills to the table to make a minion pumpkin. It was pretty much the extent of our artistic abilities and was in the same league as the pumpkin designed by the three year old. It's now sitting on our porch because it feels wrong not to display it, but it also  feels weird to have a pumpkin out there two weeks before Halloween when we don't even have kids. I'm also the kind of person that can take or leave Halloween, especially now that I can't eat the single Reeses peanut butter cups. (We all know they're the true meaning of the Halloween season.) So by having a pumpkin out there I feel like I'm sending our neighbours the wrong message and not being true to myself.

Anyway, I hadn't carved a pumpkin since 2009 and I had forgotten what the worst part of it all was. You know it, right? The guts. Not only are they slimy and messy but they are pretty much impossible to get out. After about half an hour of scraping, spooning (guts, not each other), and more scraping, Karl and I still had stringy gooey bits left in there. I was reminded why I only carve a pumpkin once every five years. Someone should invent a vacuum that gets all those guts out in a hurry. Seriously.

So my mom is from Regina and 90% of her family is still in Saskatchewan. Her being here over Thanksgiving meant that we actually got to see a lot of the family. We've seen some of them since we moved here, but not the majority. I didn't even know some of my great aunts and uncles knew we were out here. Sunday night, though, we saw a huge chunk of the family and got to share in an awkward meal with them. There were 19 people eating together in the party room at my great aunt's condo.

It was nice to see the family, including family members that now live in Alberta or B.C., but there's always weirdness when family gets together. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Family fueds, gossip, football, guilt, excessive rum and coke drinking... 

My great aunt took the cake when, after going through a long story about my mom's cousin's expected second child, she leaned over Karl, whom she was sitting beside on the couch, and asked if I had any "news." What could I do but smile, shake my head and say no, when really all I wanted to do was tell here that yes, there is news, and it's that I'm giving up cookies and will probably never eat again. Talk about portion control...

This took longer than anticipated (as always) so I'm shutting it down now. And me. I'm shutting me down, too. Because bed. Until next time, nerds.

Coming back

My goal to blog once a week this summer kind of fell flat after we got back from California. To be fair, though, a week after I wrote that post we were pretty much back in Regina and summer was promptly over. Except for last weekend, which was glorious, but now it's pushing -1 and I actually dug out my mittens for the drive to work tomorrow. So there's that.

Our trip home was so good and so full. And I had only two surprisingly emotional moments the whole time. And by that I mean there were only two occasions where I nearly lost it.

After a very long day on the way out and missing two ferries due to road accidents and traffic, we got to Victoria an hour after anticipated. I was exhausted, and driving to my mom's house and down the familiar streets I started getting choked up. It's not my neighbourhood anymore. Those streets aren't mine anymore. I'm not going for painfully slow jogs on those hills anymore. Sure, the ugly eggplant coloured house still looks the same and the people at the end of Mom's street are still (how many years later?) painting their siding, but it's not my neighbourhood anymore. Because I live 2000 km away.

And that was a lot to take in.

The other tough moment for me was walking into our church in Victoria. We'd only been going there about eight months before we moved to Regina so it was never the home that the church we grew up in and got married in was. Most of our friends go somewhere else. But when we walked into that church that Sunday morning, 11 hours after getting back from California, it was only about 30 seconds before I was attacked from behind and given a huge hug from one of our good friends. And that made me feel all the feelings.

The drive back to Regina was surreal. We stopped in Swalwell and spent the day with the family, then headed east to Saskatchewan. It felt like a backwards holiday, but as soon as we got into town it was very real. And, yeah, I cried, because Regina isn't home and it feels less like my neighbourhood than the one we used to live in in Victoria. Because at least I can find my way around the old neighbourhood without having to look at Google maps.

But home is where your family is, and Karl is in Regina, and, following that, I think home is where your bed is. And I am in love with my bed. And now that the duvet's on it's kind of like all the good things are all together at once.

The week back was frustrating and crazy. I had vacation brain at work all week and even went so far as to delete meeting minutes I was supposed to send to the whole staff. We also had to paint our entire basement (thus saving us over $800 off of our reno) and that was a whole new level of hair pulling frustration due to a contractor that doesn't communicate as well as we'd hoped. And painting. Because painting always sounds so easy and relaxing but after six hours of it on a Friday night you need to do the dishes to mentally slow down until 1 a.m. Because painting will damage you. So. much. spun. cotton. 

Sunday morning came around, though, and it was glorious. I had breakfast on the deck, then our church had a bbq, and later we invited the neighbours over for a drink on the deck. It was kind of the perfect way to end a hard week.

As we were sitting in church I knew, again, that God brought us to Saskatchewan for a reason. As much as I don't love Regina, I've never really doubted that this is where we're supposed to be right now. We're not thriving like some people would, and I'm so glad we have a house to keep us busy, but we're simple folk and I'm glad that regrets aren't part of this package.

And you know what? In less than 48 hours we're going to be those people with a separate living room and T.V. room. And that just doesn't happen in Victoria for people like us.

I'm looking forward to having you over for a visit in our living room. The pumpkin scones will be just coming out of the oven when you show up.

Did you see it?

I spent a lot of today on the couch trying not to puke on myself (you're welcome) after a 10 a.m. migraine. Because my brain was all, "You're going on holidays in five days? You've got a bunch of work and work-related deadlines to get done before then? Dang, girl. SABOTAGE."

But whatever. Today was kind of low on my list of things I needed to get done. The goal was to go to the gym and burn all the calories because I'm going to die spending approximately 22 hours travelling this weekend. I don't have restless leg syndrome yet but we haven't even left. And I already spent six hours in the car this weekend. Because including this past weekend I have four weekends of travelling in a row and that's a lot of muffin and Skittle consumption.

But what I was trying to say was that even though there's a lot to get done this week before we head west for two weeks today's goals were only to go to the gym and make dinner. Migraine trumps exercise 100% of the time but I still ended up making stir fry for dinner. It was essential because no stir fry dinner means no stir fry lunch and I might just live for stir fry lunches. Also, stir fry is excellent post-migraine hangover food. Except I don't really have a hangover yet, I just feel yuck. And I was all, "If it's not a bad one I'll come back this afternoon because work to do." I'm funny. I spent a lot of the afternoon in a semi-vegetative state. 

But the point isn't that my body hates me. That's ooooold news. The point is, our cable company is accidentally giving us free movie channels even though I cancelled them. I don't even feel bad because we had a bunch of movies recorded from when we were paying for them (Game of Thrones is in the movie package but stop judging me because the books are less pornographic) but when we moved they ALL got erased. So this is kind of fairness. And when we add AMC in October to get our zombie fix we'll lose them anyway.

But that's not the point then, either. I mean, it kind of is, but what I really want to talk about is the fact that I spent a good chunk of the day watching movies. Two movies to be exact.

The first movie I watched was About Time. All I'm going to say about it is that you should probably go watch it. It was kind of like Love Actually meets The Time Travellers Wife but not as pukey. It even had Bill Nighy and Rachel McAdams so the comparison works even better. I might just be thinking Love Actually because it's British but whatever. That said, I think Karl would have really liked it, too, and you should probably go watch it now. And, yes, the red headed main character was a Weasley. I looked it up. 

But seriously, it might be my new favourite movie. I didn't even delete it off the PVR because Mom's coming for Thanksgiving and we'll probably need to watch it again then. Unless I buy it. Because I believe in buying things you like. Like Jars of Clay CDs. That's why I have a bunch of burned copies of their CDs from my friends when we were teenagers and consolidated our CD collections but then I went out and bought all their physical CDs. Except for their greatest hits, but those weren't new recordings and I bought the only new song off iTunes, okay? 

I digress.

I liked the movie so much that I paused it to have a nap. I didn't even do the normal sick day thing and sleep through it like I did with Dredd last time I had a migraine. For the record, Dredd was neither here nor there.

The second movie I watched was Anna Karenina. I got the audiobook from the library last year, but only half of it downloaded and once that part was done I figured it was boring me to death on the elliptical so I called it a day. I want to be cultured, though, and at least be able to talk about cultural things because of course I know the story of Anna Karenina. Then everyone will think I've read Tolstoy instead of just watching Keira Knightly in it. 

Well, after watching the movie, I'm pretty sure I didn't take much away from it. Except, SPOILER ALERT, Anna Karenina was a bit of a cold hard lady dog and killed herself, which I think I kind of knew anyway. But I remember in the book not despising her, whereas Keira Knightly just reminded me of Helena Bonham Carter in Harry Potter. Bellatrix, anyone?

I'm done with the Potter references, I swear. Although I was hoping to put Harry Potter on afterwards and nap through it but it's not on Netflix anymore. 

It was like they were trying to make classing Russian literature funny. And I didn't really get that from the book. It also looked like a play. I had a hard time following it. Except the red headed guy from About Time was also in it and he had a happy ending so that was nice. But I don't think he cared that Anna Karenina jumped in the middle of a moving train which, for the record, seemed a little risky to me. What if you just bounced off and got a bloody lip or something? That would be awkward. I'd throw myself in front of the train.

And now that we're on the topic of death and suicide, I'm just going to completely change direction. It'll read awkward and unnatural but it's exactly where my brain rolled to. So just roll with it.

Today was a bad news day. A life lost no matter how distant or far removed from us is still a tragedy. So love each other. Hug each other. Pray for each other.

One thing I really struggle with is not being a grumpy bag. I'm not sure why, but negativity  comes so naturally to me and sometimes I have to try really hard to remember to love others. Because I believe that God calls us to love each other no matter who we are, what we've done or, sometimes even harder to remember, what we're doing. From the petty to the big. And we just don't know, do we? We just don't know what kind of affect we're going to have on others. We can think we don't matter and that no one cares, but I think we can all agree that the tiniest interactions can have huge day altering consequences. Like the person who gives you the finger in the parking lot when you've done nothing wrong. Or getting a glib comment from a co-worker. I'm a feeler so I know I'm not the only one. We all need to feel loved and appreciated in everything we do.

And that goes both ways. Negative and positive. 

So go. Love others. Know that I really, truly appreciate you coming here. And watch About Time because it's awesome. 

Rollin.

It's a painting metaphor even though no internal painting has been done. I did paint a table, though. I came to post photos of the house but I'm having a hard time getting excited about it.

It's hot, I'm tired, and there's an episode of The Amazing Race Canada on the PVR. And I'm only watching it because it started out in the best place on earth (Victoria, B.C. obvs) and now I'm suckered in because Karl likes it. That and we just watched an episode of The Killing and we need something a little uplifting. 

We're nine days out from heading home for two weeks. Except in those two weeks I'll be going to Disneyland (again) with my momma (again, but 20 years later) and I am OVER THE MOON EXCITED.

Initially the whole Disneyland thing was Mom's idea that I went on board with because we don't get a lot of holidays together, especially now, and I miss her so freaking much. I used to think that people who talked about their moms being their best friends were so full of it, but then I hit that early-mid-twenties stage and here we are. Three days in Anaheim and two in San Diego. And I'm having a hard time focussing at work because Splash Mountain.

I'll also be celebrating my birthday on our last day in Anaheim. I did a little googling and it turns out there's a place in San Diego that sells vegan doughnuts on Saturdays that isn't too far from our hotel. So when I'm at work and I'm not day dreaming about standing in long lines I'm thinking about vegan doughnuts. And how stoked I am on my new carry-on suitcase. Because it's pink and weighs 3.1 lbs and is big enough to hold a bendy three old. With snacks.

Basically what I'm saying is, I've committed myself emotionally to blogging once a week and I skipped Zumba tonight to pick raspberries (in my back yard), paint my nails (next on the agenda), knit (always), and blog. I really want to show you all these Young House Love worthy photos of our place and feel all superior, but the long and the short of it is no. 

Which leads to another reason (aside from my unending love of our office) that I sat down at the good old keyboard today. I want to pick your mind.

First of all, short of Instagram how do you edit your pictures? If you spend more than $20 on something that won't last you for a lifetime you're going to need to give me the hard sell. But seriously. I want to show you beautiful pictures of my office and destroyed basement (on purpose) and some more pictures of my gorgeous fireplace but they look like I just took them with my phone. Weird, considering how I did only take them with my phone.

Also, I'm a Canadian going to the USA. I don't want to screw this up. What do I need to buy down there that I can't buy up here? Tell me your secrets! Give me your suggestions! Where do I need to eat? Don't say In-n-Out. Remember, I'm dairy-free. Tell me, America, of all your delicious things that you sell at your fancy grocery stores. Or tell me, Canada, what you do down there when you can't eat ketchup chips or Smarties. I need to know.

Okay, my mind just flat-lined. I'm outty.