She Likes Purple

The best I found this year

After my yearly wrap-up post from yesterday, I still had an itch to reflect back on 2008 a little bit. Throughout the year I feature things in my sidebars including my favorite products, shoes, movies, books and blog posts. In this post -- my last of 2008 -- I wanted to offer you back your words by featuring some of my favorite blog posts of the year.

Not That You Asked's "Blog as soapbox"

"I look at this blog as a record of my life, and I love that I can look back at my archives and see what was really happening to me at that moment in time. In 30 years from now, will I look back at my writing and feel awkward or uncomfortable that I had to tell a lot of people that I had a failed pregnancy or will I feel thankful that I took the time to write about it and to work through it and to receive well-meaning, wonderful, supportive comments from friends and complete strangers? 

And I realize that last paragraph makes it sound like a failed pregnancy is something to be embarrassed or ashamed of, and that’s another reason why I want to write honestly about it because I want people to know that it happens, and that no one should feel alone when it happens to them. I don’t think miscarriage should have to be a dirty little secret. I certainly think you have every right to make it a private experience if you want to, but I also think that if you have the strength to get your story out there, it can only do good as far as helping others understand it better."

Just Expressive's "L*O*V*E*"  
"I love digging my toes into soft wet sand. . . . I love sliding into completely still water. . . . I love black and white photography and how it seems to make time more important."

Moose in the Kitchen's "Construction Paper Parable" 

"One of the best parts about being with someone is inventing new ways to make their life better. Like sweeping the floor when everyone knows you just don’t dofloors. Or smiling through dinner with the inlaws. Or walking the dog in the rain so your someone can stay on the couch and watch TV. Or buying them a pony. Because it’s not overcooked steak with in-laws who really should know your name after six years; it’s love."

Girl's Gone Child's "Maybe"
"There are days when it is so fucking tempting to leave. But then there are days when it's even more tempting to stay. When suddenly the right people say the right things, plan the right meetings... And all of a sudden: maybe. And it doesn't even matter what the maybe is, it's just... Maybe. It is this Maybe that keeps one chained to her desk. It is the Maybe that inspires a script to become an entire presentation. An idea to become the beginning of a fourth novel after three did not sell. It is this Maybe that plants us here, by the window with thirsty roots, watching the gates of the studio open and close. Open. Close. Open... It is this Maybe that holds us down and shakes us up and wakes us up and pulls us under. It is this Maybe that we stake our entire future on. It is this Maybe that will cause our children to grow up and either resent or respect us. It is this Maybe that makes me both proud and ashamed of who I am."

Amalah's "When I See You Smile"
"He could play and swim and play for hours, and we watched and smiled, wishing we could give him more time here, wondering whether he's old enough to remember this trip, with his Nemo bucket and the big holes Daddy dug in the sand and the taste of grit in his peanut butter and jelly. And when I wrapped him up in a towel and held him close while he shivered and struggled against his heavy eyelids, his head against my chest and his baby brother kicking from within, I promised to remember. And to thank him one day for letting me see the world for the first time all over again."

Flotsam's "Coda"
"I may be A Woman With A Troubled Past, but I don’t act the part. I think sometimes we try too hard to fit our lives into the shapes of the stories we know. I doubt we’ll ever really stop doing that, so I believe the best we can do is to make sure there are as many stories out there as possible. The women who have written honestly about motherhood -- the good and the bad -- helped me through moments of my pregnancy when I wondered if I’d be too anxious and overwhelmed to be a good mother. Whatever I felt, I knew that it would be ok, that others had felt it too, and had sent their reassuring lighthouse beams out into the murky waters for me."

Moosh In Indy's' "Titles vs Truths"
"Maybe motherhood came easy to you and you find yourself wondering “what the heck is her problem and why is she crying all the time?” towards a new mom. Just because two women can become moms doesn’t mean it’s going to be the same journey for both of them. It’s not our job as humans to judge or analyze. It’s our job to step in and take over whatever hurt, pain or responsibility that we can. Or to share in whatever small victories, joys or celebrations we can. As a new mom I was always so bothered that no one looked past the baby in my arms. No one asked how I was outside parenthood, despite the haze of new motherhood I still had passions and interests that didn’t involve Huggies or sleep schedules. Same goes for someone in school. Or in a new career. Or in the hospital with cancer. There is so much more that defines a person beyond parent, cancer patient, student or professional. Rarely ever is it what we see on the outside that makes a person phenomenal. Often it’s what they do when no one’s looking. What they choose to do with their free time instead of what they need to or are supposed to be doing with their time. Let’s start paying attention to it."

Princess Nebraska's "Reasons Why"
"And sometimes I do feel better. A Sunday morning in the park, a funny email, a back rub, a glass of wine. The fog does lift. I smile through the gray. But then there are mornings like this one, when all my defenses are down and tears land on Eli’s soft downy hair and I hate myself for it, hate it. Wonder what else I have passed down, what I’m doing to him now."

Sweet Salty's "What Was Planted to Heal the World"
"Having been there - urgently, desperately - witnessing condemnation turns me inside out. How dare anyone put conditions on love - that which was planted to heal the world by the very God they invoke? Imagine a being with a crystal ball trained on the future of the child you hold in your arms. The child with the jack ‘o lantern grin, the succulent, cheesy neck, the chubby folds. The child that woke up twice last night in hot tears and needed you, just you. She's going to be gay, you know, the being says. She's going to be gay and she's going to live far away but she'll be home every summer and for Christmas with her wife. She's going to be happy, and smart, and ordinary, and gay. Does that change anything? Beg, plead: Just keep her safe and whole. I will love her forever, just as she is."

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What about you, do you have any best-of-the-year posts you'd like to share?

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We're off to a few parties tonight where I'm going to allow myself one glass of champagne and many glasses of non-alcoholic sparkling cider. Last New Years I thought I might be pregnant and opted not to drink, just in case. This year I'm very obviously pregnant and am opting not to drink because people already look at me funny without a beer in hand. Next year, I'm getting drunk, even if it's on my couch during Gilmore Girls marathon. 

Whatever you have planned for tonight, I hope you're surrounded by fun and love and laughter. I hope you have the equivalent of a pregnant wife to drive you around to ensure you get from point A to point B safely and soundly. I think we're all ready for a new start, a fresh page, and I wish for each of you the kind of 2009 you most deserve, which is to say a really incredible one. 

Most of all, I want to thank you for hanging out with me this last year, for consistently offering me compliments and kind words and, simply, your thoughts. I come here to breathe, to be myself and find myself, and I think I'd still come even if no one else joined me, but having you here makes it that much sweeter. Please know you matter to me. Quite a lot, in fact.

2008

I did this yearly wrap-up last year I'm back to do it again for 2008. If you'd like to do it too, let me know, and I'll link to your post

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before? I sat in a dimly lit room, holding my husband's hand, while we heard our son's heartbeat for the first time. Also, hey, I threw up on myself, which was a never-thought-I'd-experience first.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I made a whole slew of resolutions (here), but it would embarrass me and my mother if I told you just how few I kept. I do promise to lose the weight in 2009, once and for all.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? Two of Mike's cousins and a handful of very good friends.

4. Did anyone close to you die? No, thankfully.

5. What countries did you visit? None! We fail at world travel!

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008? A defined waist.

7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? June 10. When I took my first positive pregnancy test. October 10. The big reveal sonogram, when we saw our son's very impressive boy parts.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? Naming our son, which was an achievement I didn't think would ever happen, I'm not kidding even a little bit.

9. What was your biggest failure? I look at that dusty resolution list and cringe. There's so much I didn't even attempt.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury? Hey, so the other night I had to catch my breath before getting out of bed to pee because my back hurt that badly. I don't know if you consider pregnancy an "injury" but YOU SHOULD.

12. What was the best thing you bought? I absolutely loved this purchase but guess who hasn't gotten to wear it yet since she got knocked up about 15 seconds after forking over the money for it? Go on, guess.

13. Whose behavior merited celebration? The 63 million people who elected Barack Obama as president.

14. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Oh, who needs that kind of buzz kill in the middle of a yearly wrap-up questionnaire?

15. Where did most of your money go? Bills, which makes me want to kick my nine-year-old self for pretending to pay bills and write checks as a weird, screwed-up idea of fun.

16. What did you get really, really, really excited about? We're having a baby!

17. What song will always remind you of 2008? "Nothing Like You & I" by the Perishers

18. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? b) thinner or fatter? c) richer or poorer? Happier; much, much fatter; poorer

19. What do you wish you’d done more of? I wish I had read more, cleaned more, written more, learned more, traveled more, laughed more ... in short, a helluva lot more.

20. What do you wish you’d done less of? Vomit. I know that's disgusting, but I'm keeping it real.

21. How did you spend Christmas? With Mike, Molly, my mom, Mike's parents, his sister, her husband and our nephew.

22. Did you fall in love in 2008? Yes, with my son.

23. What was your favorite TV program? Top Chef

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? No, there's no time for any of that.

25. What was the best book you read? I won't say "Twilight" and you're welcome for that. I read "Pride & Prejudice" (finally) and loved it once I got past the first 10-20 pages.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery? Missy Higgins

27. What did you want and get? A baby, and he'll be here oh-so-soon.

28. What did you want and not get? To get thin and in shape. Nothing like pregnancy to thwart all your get-tiny goals.

29. What was your favorite film of this year? Sadly, nothing is coming to mind. (I haven't seen a few yet that I hope will be great, such as Slumdog Millionaire, Milk, Frost/Nixon)

30. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? We had a big dinner at my favorite (now closed) Mexican restaurant and then went to a nearby bar.

31. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? A debt fairy to wipe all of ours away with a flip of her wrist.

32. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2008? "What is going to fit me today? This should be interesting."

33. What kept you sane? Mike, Zofran, bad TV, this site

34. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Eh, pass.

35. What political issue stirred you the most? The election was pretty stirring, I have to say. I think the issue of gay marriage is becoming more and more important to me as the time draws closer for me to have my own child. Basic civil rights are being denied to millions of people. I just can't stomach it anymore, to be honest.

36. Who did you miss? All of my family and friends who aren't near me.

37. Who was the best new person you met? Elizabeth, Katie, Raven and all of the other incredible women at BlogHer. Also, all of the new babies born this year in our circle.

38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2008. I learned a lot about what a person, and a couple, is capable of with a little faith. I learned that pregnancy and parenthood, although common in many ways, is deeply personal and profound and miraculous and shouldn't be judged or criticized by someone on the outside looking in. I learned that you cannot live your life in a constant state of reaction to other people. You must take control of yourself and your choices, and you should stand tall and accountable for every decision you make. I learned that kindness is underrated and love is rarely as unconditional as it must be.

39. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year. This is the absolute opposite of what my year was like, but when else am I going to be able to use these lyrics in a post on this site:

"I know you scared baby
They don't know what we doin'
Let's both get undressed right here
Keep it up then I swear
I'mma give it to you non-stop
And I don't care who's watchin"

From the eloquent "Make Love in this Club" by Usher. Perhaps it's been far too long since I've been drunk, but I can't recall a night I was ever drunk enough as to be oblivious to people getting naked and having sex beside me on the dance floor. It's possible I was downing the wrong tequila all those years, I suppose. How can I really add more to this yearly recap than what Usher just said for us, though. So, on that note, here's to a wondrous and exciting 2009, and here's to never typing "I'mma" again ever in my life, so help me.

I'll back you up*

Fifteen years ago, we celebrated our twelfth birthdays together. Last night we sat in a Mexican restaurant and talked about families and husbands and jobs in celebration of her twenty-seventh birthday. She's five days older than me, born in a completely different year. Over the years, we have celebrated everything, from birthdays to love to diplomas to babies. 

She is everything you could hope for in a friend. She is my fixed point, my voice of reason, my rational side, my best friend. I've talked about her a lot on this site, and there's always more to say. She still makes me laugh more than anyone, and she was the only person I picked up my cell phone to call during my nine-day honeymoon. Nine days was just a ridiculously long time to go without talking to her, so I sat on a sunny beach while Mike snorkeled and laughed as she told me a story about getting hit in the head with a soccer ball. 

In college, I was left at a bar one night by some asshat who didn't deserve a moment of my time, let alone a whole evening. I sat on the curb out front of the bar, confused at how I could have been so stupid. I picked up my phone and called her because she is that person. She is that 2 a.m. friend who wouldn't just come to pick me up if I needed her to but did come to pick me up when I needed her to. She let me stay with her that night and she never made me feel stupid for being so obviously, well, stupid. 

Eight months ago, when I saw the second line, I picked up the phone and called her and told her it had finally happened, after a year of misses, it had worked. She said to me, "Oh, Jennie, thank God, I wasn't sure what we were going to do." My joys are hers. My pain is hers. I don't technically believe in soul mates, the idea that one person is meant for you, no matter what choices you make, that fate and destiny are the ones in control. But there's no other way to describe our friendship than fate. We are so different, we've been through so much, we've done unforgivable things to one another, and yet she stood beside me on my wedding day and lifted my dress up and held my glass of champagne and told me I was beautiful. 

I know you probably don't know her, and I know it's impossible to know someone just like her, but I hope you have someone in your life who is there for you always, who sees all the good there is to see in you, who doesn't look past the bad but simply doesn't think it matters much. I hope for my son -- more than a good education, more than a great sense of humor, more than his father's red hair -- that he will have his own Natalie. I hope everyone is so lucky.

Happy second 27th birthday, Nat.**

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*"Do what you will, always walk where you like ... do as you please, I'll back you up." 
—Dave Matthews Band

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**Last year, Natalie was convinced she was turning 27. This year actually turning 27 isn't all that bad for her. Been there, done that kind of thing.

Happy (two days after) Christmas!

Remember when I promised an obnoxious number of posts and pictures and at least a solid week of not shutting down my laptop because my Christmas plans included going absolutely nowhere? Yeah ... well ... that didn't exactly work out the way I planned, now did it?

Early this week I cleaned my house in a way I have not cleaned it since moving in and that included scrubbing areas of the bathroom I'd rather not revisit anytime soon. I also hosted Christmas Eve dinner on Wednesday night and that included cooking a handful of dishes I hadn't cooked before, and you know what's insanely irritating about cooking? Timing! How do you make sure everything is served hot when you have just one oven to cook everything in and each dish calls for a different cooking temperature? I'm sure you figured this out ages ago, when you reached adulthood and began cooking regularly, but I stood in my kitchen Christmas Eve just stumped about when to start making the sweet potato casserole if the ham needed to be cooked for over an hour and all my guests were showing up at 6 p.m. It all worked out, thankfully, and it was a really lovely dinner with family and friends and then a Top Chef marathon.

Christmas Day was just as lovely and our baby boy cleaned up rather nicely without having to do anything other than flip around inside his mama for a little while. Must be hard to be so adored without doing a damn thing to warrant it, right? I have plenty of pictures to share with you and those will go up ... tomorrow ... ish. I still need a wee bit of time to recover from all the food and fun. Recovery in the form of chronic napping and not, say, chronic drinking, which was always my recovery tool of choice before. Ah, how things have changed. (I did enjoy a very nice glass of wine late Christmas Eve night, though. I'm out of control.)

Needless to say, even though I haven't technically left town, I also haven't found the time to sign on and check in with the Internet as often as I planned or at all for that matter. So, fill me in, was Santa good to you? Did you serve all of your holiday dishes warm and on time? Did you enjoy your family and friends and the after-Christmas sales? I truly hope so. Funny how most of us lament about this time of year and how giant retail stores shove Christmas ornaments down our throats before August has even wrapped up and we refuse to put our lights on our house until after we've gorged ourself on Thanksgiving turkey and then all of a sudden, Christmas is over and how did that happen? We aren't ready for its arrival and yet it's gone before we' know it.

This Christmas was different for me than any other because I am just about eight-months pregnant and every time I would consider being eight-months pregnant over the last eight months, I would always say to myself, "But first comes Christmas, so let's focus on that." I'm not sure if you do this with big, monumental dates, but many of them (my wedding, my honeymoon, big trips, etc) just don't feel completely real for me while there are other important things popping up on the calendar first. This year there was always Christmas standing between me meeting my boy and, funny enough, Christmas is now behind me and now there's just some time for me to count away. Seven weeks, give or take.

From my family to yours, I hope your holidays were relaxing and peaceful and wonderful for you and yours. I also hope your New Years is soaked in champagne. But, most of all, I hope 2009 holds as much excitement and joy and wonder as you can possibly want for.

Thanks

After posting my rant yesterday morning, I immediately panicked and wondered if I had come across more "whiny" than "vent-y" but as the comments started rolling in, I exhaled. You are just the loveliest and most supportive group of people, did you know that? Thank you for the pat on the back and all of the compliments, the compliments that led me to mentally tell that woman to suck it and then put the whole unfortunate night behind me.

The rational truth is that pregnancy is the only time gaining weight is universally encouraged or accepted and a big baby does not necessarily mean an unhealthy baby or a baby whose mother did something wrong or a baby who will turn into a toddler or child or adult with weight problems, but there are also so few ways to comment on a woman's weight -- pregnant or otherwise -- without judgment seeping in, regardless if that was the intention.  It's hard to hear "you're huge!" or "you're too tiny!" without taking that comment, turning it over and over in your head and coming to the (sometimes totally wrong) conclusion that you've done something wrong and that's why you are the way you are. And, hey, it doesn't help that I spent the better part of my late-teens and early-twenties dealing with an eating disorder that royally screwed up my view of weight gain and healthy curves and how to let "you were too big to miss!" comments roll off my back without panic and self-loathing kicking in for just a wee moment. I also know how much weight I've gained and that it's a totally normal amount, but, unfortunately, my doctor charges extra for traveling alongside me with my medical records to correct everyone's misconceptions, so I have to default to politely smiling and developing a tougher skin than I was born with. Daunting, you know? All of this is to say, she probably didn't mean to ruin my weekend, and if I were a normal person without a predisposition to sensitivity and overreacting and being kind of nutty, the chances are she wouldn't have ruined my weekend. But, thanks to you, my weekend was turned right around, and I just couldn't be more thankful to have you.

A few specific thanks: to Elizabeth for the unexpected holiday package and for being just an overall incredible person; to Jodi for the unexpected and thoughtful baby gift; to Kristie for being the kind of unexpected friend everyone should be so lucky to have. To Rhiannon and Moose and Jemima and Bethany and Kerrianne and Raven for your thoughtful gifts and cards. You have restored my faith in unconditional kindness, and you mean more to me than any stupid stranger's comment. Thank you.

Now ... moving on. Phew. I'm off work this week and with an entire week off, I plan to clean my house from top to bottom, put the nursery as together as possible, wash and organize all of our boy's clothes and host Christmas Eve dinner at our house. Expect pictures as this is the most I've done in the last seven months and documentation -- albeit boring documentation -- is absolutely necessary.

While everyone else is apologizing to the Internet about light posting this week, I will most likely be bombarding you with boring drivel as I am not traveling anywhere (except to the grocery store and to my hair salon), and I won't be taking an Internet hiatus or a computer break whatsoever. I do, however, hope that your holiday plans are plentiful and exciting and that you will take a break from the Internet if you need one. I hope you wrap up 2008 however you most want to, especially with liquor if you're not in the state I'm in. I will wrap my year up at home, with my family, my giant belly and my girl. No matter what, my friends, life is good.

So, tell me, what are your holiday plans?

Sunday vent

Friday night I got all fancied up for Mike's holiday office party. It was the first time I donned heels in over a month and I didn't even peel the heels off twenty minutes into the night, so I was feeling pretty proud of myself. It was actually a really nice night, and Mike had fun with all his work buddies. Then, last night Mike had a playoff hockey game (they won!) and since he plays on an all-work league, a lot of the wives cheer on their men upstairs. As soon as I sat down last night, a woman walked over to me and invited me to sit with her instead. Nice offer, so I moved over to her table. About ten minutes later I said something about being seven-and-a-half months pregnant and she responded with, "Your baby is going to be huge, you know. I thought you were surely due tomorrow." Now, fine, think that if you must but why ... WHY ... say it to me? She went on to say, "Yeah, I saw you last night at the Christmas party ... although you were kind of hard to miss." I finally said something along the lines of, "it never gets old hearing strangers tell you how big you are. Please go on."

People, I know I shouldn't let this shit bother me. I know my baby is measuring just normally and my DOCTOR has no concerns, not a one, about my weight or his weight. I know these women aren't seeking out ways to ruin my day, but do me a favor? If you ever see a pregnant woman, don't comment on her weight or how surprisingly large/small she is. It could potentially destroy her in seconds, and why do that? Wait until you're home and talk about her to your husband or your girlfriend or on your blog, even.

It's just ... it sucks. I'd take all the other less-than-desirable pregnancy side effects (including the acid reflux that caused me to throw up all night long after the Christmas party) if I didn't have to deal with one more minute of other people's insensitivity.

32 Weeks

I hit my weekly pregnancy milestones every Saturday, when I'm usually laid up on the couch, scarfing down bowls of cereal and whining about how it's too cold, now it's too hot, wait ... cold ... HOT ... ahhhh, so the blog title is a slight lie (I'm really 31 weeks and five days) but let's all roll with it, OK? OK!

Some fun news: I lost a pound since my last appointment two weeks ago! Now, weight loss was not my goal, and I'm absolutely not advocating some type of pregnancy diet for any of you who are knocked up out there, but this was quite the relief for me as the scale portion of my appointments are always the most anxiety-filled and self-esteem killing. I think I'll remedy this weight loss next week or today, even, since clients have begun filling our work kitchen with chocolates and baked goods, but for now I'm just happy the weight gain seems to be slowing down right at the number it's supposed to. 

Baby is measuring well and with a perfect heartbeat. My blood pressure is great. There have been a few contractions but nothing regular and no annoying or pesky pain accompanying them, so no one is overly concerned. Overall, the appointment was short and sweet and all is swell. 

I'm not sure if this is altogether normal -- let's say for argument's sake it absolutely is -- but I've reached the part of this pregnancy where I want to be around babies all the time. I want to talk about babies and baby things and look at baby clothes and hold babies, and I think it's because I've moved slowly from holy-shit-what-was-I-thinking to holy-shit-this-is-pretty-exciting. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm still rightly terrified about many things -- many of those things involving the labor itself because for someone on this side of the process, there are a few things that just don't compute, one of which being the baby is supposed to come out ... where, you say? -- but in a completely different way than I was mere weeks ago. Weeks ago I would find myself thinking about the sweet relief I'd have once he was here and done stretching out my body to record-breaking proportions and then I'd stop and think, But then he'll be here, and I'll be responsible for him and ... oh ... my ... hell I'd rather have the back pain. These days the feeling is similar to the feeling you get as you inch up the steep hill of a roller coaster. You almost hope you never reach the top because you know your stomach is going to drop to the floor and you're going to be thrown all over the place and you may even feel like throwing up a little bit but you also know that as soon as you curve down and start to gain speed, it's going to be the most thrilling, coolest moment, and even more than you wanted to keep ascending forever, you'll never want the ride to stop. It's a good place to be, where I am right now, and for that I absolutely prefer week 32 to week 7 or 12 or 24. 

Mike and I were in bed the other night, talking about all the stupid things people say to pregnant women, laughing about how some people are irritatingly clueless when it comes to what is appropriate and what is not appropriate, no way, no how, and he said, "When I see a pregnant woman these days, I always congratulate her. Not just because that's better than 'WHOA THERE,' but because it really is an accomplishment. It didn't come easy for us, so it's something to be proud of when you get it." I know it's not like this for everyone and I know it came easy to some and came as a complete and utter shock to others and not everyone had to work a little harder -- as we did -- to get to this point and even more had to work very, very hard and they'll never really forget the long, mine-filled road they trekked down to get to their eighth month of pregnancy, but regardless of how we got here, we all deserve a little congratulatory pat on the back if we ended up here, the final stretch of a very hard, very beautiful journey.

My boy, although I haven't seen your face, your eyes, your smile, you're the best prize I've ever been granted. Congratulations are most definitely fitting.

Pursuit

I'm sometimes tempted to delete this entire site and all its archives and start from scratch. I often say I'm the world's worst Capricorn, but that's not altogether true. I am a perfectionist in countless ways, especially when it comes to this site, but I'm the worst kind of perfectionist. I want things to be just so in such a way that I completely put off doing them because I know I'll never be fully satisfied with the results (see, the state of my house). I am never satisfied with what I write, and if you've ever complimented my writing, I have been touched, but, see, I haven't actually believed you.

When I was in high school, I took a debate class, and I knew I was good at researching, organizing and delivering my side of whatever it was I was debating, but I whole-heartedly hated each step of the process. When my debate teacher approached me one day about joining the school debate team, I was flattered, but I think I may have laughed in her face. I knew I was good, but I didn't enjoy it. Writing is the complete opposite for me. I love it, every step of it, but I've never felt particularly good at it.

Here's the ironic thing, though, I want to eventually make my living -- in some capacity -- through writing. So, I have a really hard reality to face -- the need to improve, to learn, to create and risk more than I currently am in order to make this crazy little dream come true for me. It feels possible, one day, but it also feels very, very hard.

I have a lot going on in my life, and although I find plenty of time to lounge on the couch, twittering and watching Top Chef marathons, I still don't know how to go about finding the time to make this dream a reality. I work full-time in a book publishing house. I manage the marketing department, developing and implementing publicity plans for our titles and overseeing the ins and outs of the post-production side of things. It's a job I love and a job I plan to keep for a while, and it offers me the opportunity to hone my writing skills as I create press materials and pitches and copy. But there is more in my bag of ambitions than this, and one day I would love to get paid for something I have solely created on my own with my head and hands. But ... how?

If you write for a living, what worked for you? And not necessarily what worked for you in terms of networking, seeking out jobs, etc, but what worked for your confidence, what inspired you to believe you could do it? Also, from where do you find inspiration to write (other bloggers, writers, books, etc)?

Even more, tell me one of your dreams, one you're not sure how to navigate towards making a reality. Maybe if we put it out there, we'll find that nudge we need to work our asses off in pursuit of it.

Friday night Mike and I went for a quick tour of the hospital where -- if all things go well and as planned -- 'll give birth. Now, this tour was important to me, and I'm so glad we did it, but it lasted, quite honestly, a minute and a half. The nurses were nothing but lovely, but I guess I imagined there would be more to see than just the room, the nursery and the hallways, and I'm here to tell you it does not take long to look at a room, a nursery and a few hallways. Thankfully we now know where the entrance is and also the elevators, so that will save us a few seconds in a couple months. 

We also found, purchased and assembled a bassinet this weekend, which brings us one small step closer to being ready for this boy's arrival. We still have so much to do, it would blow your mind, but he has multiple places to sleep, and I find those to be very important check-off items, don't you agree? He also has these jeans and matching socks, courtesy of his Aunt Crystal, and no matter what we fail in assembling/organizing, just knowing he'll be clad in dinosaur jeans at some point makes me a little less stressed out. 

We ended our weekend watching the Survivor finale and reunion show, making us part of the very small group of Americans who still watch this show, I know, but it's somewhat of a tradition we've created with Mike's parents. Believe it or not, we get sucked into the drama each and every season. What I love most about this show is how after 17 seasons, voted-off contestants are still disgusted and feel betrayed by those who lied to and blindsided them. You can bet that at least once during the finale someone will stand up to ask the finalists, "Why did you liiiiie to me? How could you have stabbbbbed me in the back? I thought we were friiiiiends." And I wish just once someone would answer with, "Do you have Netflix? Go rent the back seasons of this show, would ya?" OUTWIT IS IN THE SHOW'S SUBTITLE, FOLKS. But, no, people are still shocked that a practical stranger lied to their face in order to win a million dollars. I'm sorry, but there are few people I wouldn't lie to for a million dollars. If someone offered me the chance to win that much money, and all it would take was to tell a very convincing set of lies then count me in, even if I'm lying to my mother. I could never actually go on Survivor, though, and not because of the lack of food or the dirt or the loss of my blog for 30+ days but because of the bugs. I can handle a lot, and I bet it would even stun you how long I could go without food and bathing but make me sleep next to things with more appendages than I have and I will become as girlie and prissy and high-effing-maintenance as they come. I'm not proud of this, no, but I recently spent THREE DAYS checking myself for ticks when I thought I had spotted one in my car and then lost sight of it. I was convinced it had found its way to my leg, crawled its creepy way up and had slowly begun killing me. I don't know where this phobia comes from -- sharks don't even scare me -- but I know that if I were to go on Survivor, I'd quickly become the girl who annoyed the shit out of everyone else with my persistent asking of "IS THERE SOMETHING ON MY BACK? IS SOMETHING CRAWLING ON ME?"  

A couple of final, random, all-over-the-place things:

1. Thank you for all the kind words and warm wishes on this post. I am lucky to have Elece, and I wish you could all know her. But, I'm also lucky to have each of you.
2. I finally posted pictures of our shower from last weekend. I've blurred a few things to protect his name, and I've also included a shot of what we ate, so you will be jealous you weren't there and how many times can THAT be said of a baby shower?
3. My diaper bag is in and adorable. I don't know if I've ever typed a more thrilling sentence but go have a look.  
4. Latest (and most shocking) belly shot from just about 31 weeks: 

 

Excuse the bare belly -- I know seeing pregnant flesh alarms some -- but when I get home at the end of each day, I throw on the most comfortable clothes I can find and sometimes the most comfortable T-shirts are from my previous life. Mike doesn't seem bothered by this, thankfully, but Molly keeps eyeing me suspiciously. I can tell she's wondering just how many of those Milano cookies I've been inhaling when her head is turned. Lord, mama, I love you and all but you're getting a little out of hand, don't you think? She's going to wish it were just a cookie addiction once he's here. She'd take me fat any day of the week if it ensured I'd forever pay attention to only her.  

Deserving

When I was 11, my dad married a woman I barely knew. She had only been in my life a few short months and in those months, I had only been around her twice. She was carrying my brother, and I was confused and angry and sad and many other things you imagine a child being when her father marries a woman who is not her mother. I didn't expect to like this woman and, for a while, I didn't on principle alone. My brother was born and was beautiful from the first day of his life and he softened a lot of hard hearts including mine. There are times he looks just like his mother, and for years he had a mop of blond hair that made him seem angelic, no matter how much his crying or pouting or toddlerness tried to convince you otherwise.  

Against my plan, I fell in love with Elece. She has one of those contagious personalities that make you beam when you're around her. She has an unmatched sense of humor. She has a beauty that really is impossible to ignore no matter how hard you try.

Elece taught me to drive, talked to me about my first game of "spin the bottle," took me shopping for many, many years and even dyed my hair once a very unfortunate shade of orange. She poured Kahlua into my coffee one Christmas Eve morning and said, "It's going to be one of those holidays, I think." She taught me to eat Grape Nuts with chocolate milk poured over them instead of regular. I made her fall in love with Dawson's Creek, and she was just as big a Pacey/Joey fan as I was. She has a smile I can see as soon as I close my eyes because it's unique and lovely and warm. 

Her marriage to my father didn't work out, but she'll forevermore be a part of my family, a huge, throbbing, integral part of my life and the lives of my children. She gave me a beautiful little brother and bought me the purple pleather coat I wanted so badly when I was 13 even though it was pricey and, really, very ugly. 

Elece is facing a very scary medical road in the next few weeks, a journey that's overshadowing her recent birthday and the holidays, and I unfortunately can't be with her to drink a margarita or to watch cooking shows or go shopping. I wish I could always be close to her, but I can't. 

I have seen what the Internet can do when it's harvested for good. I have seen the Internet band together to raise money and hope for families in real need. It's an intensely powerful place, this blogging world, and I would never come to you with a request of any kind unless it was desperately important to me. If you don't mind, would you pray for my stepmom, would you take just a moment to send out a positive thought, a warm vibe, a virtual hug to a woman who would never ask for it herself, a person who has continually held her chin up through circumstances that would bring the strongest person to their knees, a woman who is everything you could hope a woman to be. 

Including a very good dancer. (On the left.)

Years ago, we got manicures together and the nail tech convinced us to get acrylic nails slathered on top of our real ones. On the drive home, she said, "I love my nails, but it's a lot harder to pick my nose with them." 

I'm not nearly done laughing with her, but I am certain that with enough people pulling for her, she'll be just fine. 

Soaking it up

Late last night I woke up, tossing, turning and writhing in pain. Of all the not-so-enjoyable aspects of this pregnancy, not being able to sleep comfortably is on the top of the list. The first trimester sucked it, seriously, but there were so many naps, I can't help but forgive it a little bit. I was sick often, true, but I was asleep just as often, and that balanced things out rather nicely. But now? There is simply no comfortable position, no angle where my back doesn't cry out in pain and my hips don't continually ache. I still sleep, but it's not the enjoyable hobby it once was. In a previous, non-pregnant life, I slept. I mean I slept. For example, one night Mike was watching TV in bed with me asleep next to him, and in the blink of an eye the light fixture had broken in half and fallen on top of me. I did not wake up. I didn't even stir. 

So you can imagine the kind of pain that would keep me up at night. The kind of pain that forced Mike to pause his Call of Duty game and rub my back and neck while listening to me wonder aloud if I was dying. He said mid-rub, "Maybe you should take a bath." I don't even care, now, that the suggestion most likely came from a place of wanting to shut me the hell up and return to his mercenary killing because that idea was the best idea anyone has had, oh, ever. This includes the idea to combine peanut butter and jelly into one tasty sandwich. Mike drew the bath, lit some candles, sprinkled in some bubble bath, and I took my first bath of this pregnancy. WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH ME? WHY DID I WAIT SEVEN MONTHS? That bath changed everything, in a matter of ten steamy (but not too steamy) minutes. After that I did some nice, relaxing stretches, and I fell asleep within minutes. I didn't wake up (NOT EVEN TO PEE) until this morning, when Molly had burrowed her way under the covers and was sleeping on top of me. 

I would never presume to give you pregnancy advice because, well, I loathe unsolicited advice, and I also whole-heartedly subscribe to the train of thought that no two women and therefore no two pregnancies are alike. Lemons helped my nausea but lemons may send you gagging. Clomid (and champagne) helped us conceive, but that combo may not work for you. I had to abandon heels long ago, but perhaps you'll be able to wear them up until the day you deliver. So feel free to disregard this TAKE-A-BATH-THIS-INSTANT advice if you're sore or achy or in constant, waddling pain, but that bath was so miraculous and life-changing, I would feel like I was doing you an actual disservice if I didn't suggest it to you.

Now, I know I've listed quite a few pregnancy-related complaints on this Web site over the last seven months and some of you probably find yourselves scratching your head and suppressing thoughts such as Um, didn't she want this? Shouldn't she, well, shut the hell up already? I would hate if anything I've shared from my experience has scared you away from pregnancy altogether and not because I've exaggerated anything—oh boy, I haven't; throwing up on yourself really is as unglamorous as I made it seem—but because pregnancy is so personal and so different, I'd hate for you to 1) think your pregnancy will in any way resemble mine or 2) think I'm not enjoying myself an unbelievable amount despite the aches and pains and vomit. I have never done anything in my life that has been such fun, and I mean that. (Although kissing that cute British guy on spring break in Cancun [before I met Mike, calm down!] was a different kind of fun, I'll give you that.) I want to say this now because this may be my only pregnancy and it's going to be over very soon, and I want to remember—even if it's just through these words—that there is nothing I've enjoyed more in life than being this sick or hurting this much or being this fat or needing actual physical assistance when shifting in bed. There's nothing better than this, and that sounds crazy, I know, but I mean it. I'll never hold back the truth from you, so when I say that some parts have sucked, I am absolutely not lying to you, but, lord, am I ever fucking grateful for every sucky, horrible, painful moment of it. 

To the me reading this in a few months or a few years from now, you are glad to have your body back, I'm sure, and I bet you loved that first nap you took on your stomach, and wasn't it fun when you woke up from a hangover and realized the nausea would go away BY THE END OF THE DAY? But, I bet you still miss it, don't you? I bet you've even somewhat forgotten how much you loved it, how you could sit for hours watching the belly move on its own, how you woke up every morning happy regardless of everything else, all because you were this close to being a mother for the first second time (sorry, Molly), how watching your husband put together your son's crib had to be the coolest use of a pair of pliers you've ever witnessed. I bet even though you're enjoying the phase you're in now so much more than anything that's come before, you still can't believe how much you loved those nine months. I bet you also miss all that chocolate you consumed, too, don't you? How about this: I'll have another chocolate-chip bagel for you if you have a really big glass of champagne for me? Deal?

Holiday 2008 gift guide

Mike and I are in mega save-money mode. We have a child joining us in February, in case you didn't know, and apparently babies need clothes and diapers and medical attention and a slew of other things, all things that unfortunately come with price tags. So, we're saving money, we're counting our pennies, we're putting a freeze on gift buying. (Family, I hate to break the news to you this way, but will a hug do this Christmas?) Also, we're in a recession, which is apparently Breaking News, except not all that breaking when every media outlet has been projecting Doom and Gloom and We're All Going to Die of Not Being Able to Shop Ever Again for at least a few months now.

But, hey, maybe things aren't looking so bad for you. Perhaps you'd like to actually buy gifts for the people in your life this holiday season. If so, I've put together a list of my favorite little gifts, collected 'round the Internet, and I'd like to share them with you. 

(Before I go on, though, let me direct you over to Elizabeth's annual Gift Guide, 100 Gifts for Under $25. She is incredible, and I'm bookmarking far too many items on her list for next year, when hopefully we have money and a group of loved ones who has forgiven us.)

Now, let me say one thing before going on, I hate Christmas shopping and always have. I think it's mostly forced and contrived and more often than not people find themselves standing in the middle of some giant, soulless retail store on Christmas Eve searching for something that will do for their niece or boyfriend or father-in-law. I think most holiday memories are made without a gift in sight, and I wholeheartedly suggest not worrying so much about the gifts and instead send a card, bake some cookies, organize a nice family get-together. So many things matter more than stuff, you know, but I'm no fool, stuff ain't all bad. This list is for the people who genuinely want to buy something for someone, and who have the money to spend.

I love the idea of a jewelry catchall much better than a jewelry box, actually, and this one is $29.95. (Also, Red Envelope has excellent shipping features right before the holidays.)

 

This is for someone who has been very nice, as it's $95, but I love this black croc-embossed leather clutch from CrystalynKae.com. (Free shipping, also.)

 

I like everything in this Etsy store, but especially this ring at $29. (Also this ring and these earrings.) 

Everything from this Etsy store, as well, but I love this hand-painted teacup and saucer set for a measly $18. Now, if I only drank tea or coffee.

 

I not only am having a baby, but I have plenty of friends who are, as well. You can choose your own fabric and personalize this bib and burp cloth set for $32.99. I love the brown in the pictured pattern. 

 

Do you know what I'm constantly on the hunt for? A simple yet unique necklace that goes with everything. I love this "Big Moon" necklace for $54.  

This Anthropologie coin purse is fun, original and $14. I'm sorry, but why I haven't bought this yet is beyond me. 

 

I'm a big fan of Z Gallerie. When Mike and I got engaged, we were given a champagne flute set I adore, a set I very much look forward to putting to use in a few short months. I also love this (inexpensive) travel jewelry box ($15.95). My mother will agree with me when I say I need one as she had to take home some tangled necklaces of mine recently and returned them to me in separate plastic bags. All because I traveled with my jewelry in a cardboard box, I kid you not.

I love this magazine tote from Francesca's Collections for traveling (on sale for $14.98). I think Mike would support someone buying this for me so the next time we fly together he won't have to hold five trashy magazines with Britney Spears on the cover and his one, geeky issue of Popular Science. 

Now, most people won't include hand-dipped strawberries on their Christmas list, but who wouldn't enjoy finding these on their doorstep? $49.95 for a dozen. 

Runners up, sans pictures:

These classic, perfect earrings.

Steel water bottle (sleek and shiny, oh my).

Cheesy and adorable "let it flow" goblet. 

These awesome, funky socks. 

Classic piggy bank.

Limbo

I've been busy putting together a gift guide for the Internet, but it's taking a little more time than I originally anticipated. I better get my act together so this gift guide can be for Christmas and not, say, Memorial Day. It's to come.

We also put together our crib this weekend, but the rest of the room is in shambles, so I hesitated posting about our (minor) achievement until I could also say we put together the changing table and bookcase and cleaned and organized. Pictures of the finished room are to come. 

We had a very nice baby shower this weekend, as well, and it was so lovely and wonderful and perfect that words just can't quite do it justice. I planned to just share pictures instead, but we have to get those pictures from my mother-in-law this Thursday, so that post is come. 

We even found time this weekend to get down our Christmas tree (artificial because my husband has asthma and won't take one for the team with a real tree), but we haven't finished decorating it yet, so those twinkling Christmas tree photos are to come. 

Finally, I'm also working on the 2008 version of this post. It's, HA HA, coming.

So, I'm in the process of doing a million things, all things I want to share with you, but I want to share them properly, so I'll just wrap this up by saying: Chuck should leave his hair unbrushed more often on Gossip Girl. Last night was the first time I've ever thought he looked more parts smoldering than raging homosexual. 

Timeline: Twenty-two

(To catch up: One Through Six, Seven And Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve And Thirteen, Fourteen And Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen and Nineteen and Twenty and Twenty-One.)

2004, aged twenty-two

Natalie and I are in California, ringing in the new year with a thrilling game of Cranium. My phone rings around 10 p.m. and Mike is on the other end ringing in his own new year. I haven't heard from him since early December when we had one night of flirting and kissing and many strong drinks. He's drunk in Texas, and he loudly wishes me a happy new year. We're off the phone before I even realize I'm glad he called. Ten days later, I'm back in Texas, and I drive up to Fort Worth to see Crystal off to Connecticut where she's taken a job. We're out to dinner at On the Border when Mike walks in, late and in a hurry. He slides in next to me and something clicks again. The next day we spend together, from morning to night, before we officially say goodbye to the friend who introduced us. We go to breakfast, we go to the movies, we drive around, and as we're making dinner plans, Mike suggests we all go to his aunt's house for a BBQ. I meet his parents on the day that will become our anniversary, and I love them instantly.

Mike and I make plans to see one another back in College Station, and so a few days later when I return to town, he invites me over to watch a movie and to drink some wine and that, my friends, is that. There is no official first date, no real talk about where we are and what we want. We just become this thing and although it's as confusing as all things are at the beginning, we spend a lot of time together. I am neglecting school and friends and work to take walks and eat greasy food and drink wine on his couch with him, and I won't be proud of all that neglect in hindsight, but some of the most beautiful memories of my life stemmed from it, so I have to believe everything worked out just as it was supposed to. 

In mid-July we travel to St. Louis together for our six-month anniversary. (I wrote a little about that trip here.) We've already traveled together, we've already exchanged "I love you's" and we've already become somewhat serious, but this trip is exquisite in that I begin to believe in us. You hear it all the time, that this person meets that person and they both "just know." It simply wasn't like that for Mike and me and that may be in part because -- at the beginning -- I didn't have the ability to trust in much. Our love took time to grow and our bond was built over laughter and good food and fun travels, not over one knowing look. Our lives begin to intertwine, on this trip especially, and where our futures used to be talked about in drastically different directions, they now start to head in the same one.

That summer, Mike and I hit more pot holes and fall more in love, I say goodbye to friends who graduate and move on -- friends who are still hurt by my semester spent more or less ignoring them, but friends who have since forgiven me, thank god. Come September I take a job -- for my last year in College Station and in school -- as an assistant preschool teacher. I work every day from 7-11 a.m. and it's exhausting, and I never make it out of bed in time to look all that presentable, but it's one of the best jobs of my life. I occasionally count down the hours to quitting time because the kids are being especially loud or cleaning up after the art project is especially boring, but when I look back on teaching those 11 kids, my heart still bursts. 

Everything changes this year. I go from a single, bar-loving girl who had all the time in the world for her friends and her own needs to a girl in love for the first time in a long time, and for the first time, period, with someone worthwhile. I lost things and gained things, I sacrificed things and took advantage of other things, I found myself even though it took some time to recognize the reflection. I had a very cool, very fun life before, and this is the year I began sharing it. 

(Almost) 30 Weeks

I haven't posted a belly picture in a while and that's because the point-and-shoot's battery died a few weeks ago, and we can't find the battery charger. Probably because we haven't looked for the battery charger. But, I went to the doctor today, and what's the point of a boring stats-update post -- that I'm only writing to look back on five years from now -- without throwing you a bone and showing you the belly.

First things first, the boy is grand. I was lamenting to the doctor right before the Doppler portion of the appointment that although my son is very active, I just don't think he's active enough. I feel him daily, sure, but I've yet to scold him for sticking his toes in my ribs, and that's kind of something I was looking forward to, the first time I could yell at my child for doing something I yell at Molly for doing once a night, at least. "And he's definitely not being active this afternoon," I worried. She put her hands on my bare stomach and said, "There he is! Oh, there he is again! He's rolling now." Talk about making your mother look a hair dramatic, son, thanks for that.

His heartbeat was 140. My blood pressure was great. My weight was ... well ... must we? My doctor isn't concerned, and I'm still in the very respectable realm of normal weight gain (25-35 pounds in 40 weeks), but that scale sure did have to work a bit harder than usual this afternoon. I am going to try to be a bit more conscious these last 10 weeks, and although I know this is the only time in my life I can have fourths without raising too many eyebrows, I'm going to be more aware (not obsessive) of what I'm consuming.

Other than that, he had the hiccups while she was finding his heartbeat, and I almost cried from the adorableness of it. Right after that he kicked me, hard, as if to say, Mama, when you declared being smarter about what you eat, you didn't mean you were giving up donuts altogether, right? No, love, the donuts stay.

Just about 10 weeks left. I can't wait to meet you, kid. 

 

Back in the saddle

The Monday after a holiday is sort of void of all productivity, isn't it? I mean, how can one focus on anything of real importance after consuming mashed potatoes and lounging on various couches for five straight days? Also difficult? Returning to regular blog posting once you let your site get good and dusty over the holiday break. But Tuesday is just a mere hour away, so I may as well put the holiday behind me and return to normal life, where there is much less lounging and mashed potato consuming, unfortunately.

So, how was your Thanksgiving? Ours was very nice although I have to say I'm not much of a fan of holidays that make me sweat when those holidays aren't the Fourth of July. Highs were in the 70s in mid-Texas, where we were, and although it did get somewhat chilly today, I can't tell you how ready I am for a freeze or a serious, long-lasting cold front to blow in and hang around until March. We went to Schlitterbahn's Hill Country Christmas on Friday night and I was wearing short sleeves. And flip-flops. All this sun- and heat-hating I've been doing lately is directly because of this pregnancy and not because I actually want to live in a colder climate, I feel the need to clarify. I really can never be cool enough these days and that's a new development, I assure you, and it makes me want to tell all women who have been quite pregnant in the dead of summer in Texas that you deserve things, like money or chocolate or children who sleep through the night right out of the womb.

Speaking of kids, ours is going to be here in less than 11 weeks and how the hell did that happen? We sort of looked at one another this past weekend and realized that, huh, we should probably put a to-do list together or at the very least move my shoes and books out of his room. Nesting just hasn't hit me, kids, and I so wish it would. I understand nesting because there is So Much To Do and when you're ... um ... rounder than usual, you need an actual condition to force you off the couch to get those things done, but it just hasn't happened for me yet. In fact, I've given up on nesting altogether and have instead turned my attention to batting my eyes at my mom to help me get everything in order by February.

I do go back and forth between disbelief that our son's arrival is so close and wondering how on earth I will last another 11 weeks, my stomach expanding and my hips, groin and back hurting so badly, I'm sure it's illegal to be in so much pain without being allowed a handle of tequila. About 22 times a night, Mike has to help me roll over, and I have to stop MID-ROLL in order to catch my breath and make sure I haven't died. (Obviously, I completely understand why Angelina Jolie found being pregnant so damn sexy.) I go back and forth between wanting to soak up every moment of the final stretch of this experience and wanting it all to be over, like yesterday. Maybe the day before that, even. My friend Elizabeth emailed me last week and said, "this is the long stretch, I remember." And she's right. There's so much to do and so many things to fixate on (like a birth plan, which is apparently something that consists of more than "make sure everyone comes out OK and in one piece"), but the days do feel as if they're inching along slowly and painfully. I can kind of relate the waiting to our engagement. Part of the fun should be the journey, but you still obsessively count down to The Big Day and foolishly wish away all the other time. Except I'm told there won't be an open bar during my labor, which is tragic, really. Also, I'd wager me shimmying into my wedding dress in February ain't gonna happen.