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Showing posts from May, 2012

Melt. Down.

Memorial Day weekend was the first weekend we'd been home in the last month, so that meant one thing - knock some shit out.

Husband spent the weekend preparing for his annual pilgrimage to the Wakarusa Festival in Arkansas where he is responsible for providing equipment for the bands. This is no small feat and frankly, I don't know how he does it. I do know it provides some nice extra income, so I keep my mouth shut.

My weekend focus was the soon-to-be nursery. For the record, I am not a crafty, visually artistic person. I am the person for whom home magazines are printed - here are some pretty pictures of rooms for you to copy. This is the same approach I take with the baby room. I wanted simple and contemporary, but not overly baby-ish. And to keep Husband happy, no pink.

So I find my ideal nursery pic, head to Home Depot for the specific gray paint listed and get to work. After patching walls, cleaning baseboards, taping and moving furniture, I get the first coat applied o…

Six down, three to go

It's the start of the third trimester and more musings have been gathered.

1. I am aware that I will give birth during the hottest part of the year. I'm a native Kansas Citian so there's no need to point this out to me. I get it. August sucks. I'm going to be huge and miserable. Thanks for pointing out something I have no control over. However, if you'd like to be helpful, you can bring me a ice cream cake in late July. I like mint chocolate chip.

2. Do not touch my stomach unless you are comfortable with me karate chopping your wrist. My friends understand this, as I'm not a touchy-feely person. However, acquaintances seem to think this acceptable. It's not. You should approach a pregnant woman as you would a dog - ask if it's okay before putting a hand near the bathing suit region.

3. Let me be the initiator of my pregnancy concerns. There's enough to be worried about without someone throwing in additional items. "Have you had hemorrhoids ye…

A Whole Lotta Nothin'

Two days into vacation and relaxation is finally arriving. This is my seventh time to Seabrook Island, and I love it more each visit. The quiet. The smell of ocean. Wind chimes, which normally drive me batty, do not bother me here. Fortunately, Husband's agenda is similar to my own so it's working out well.

Sunday was travel day and did not start out promising. Once again, I booked flights so the layover in Atlanta was too brief. Last year we got stuck in Atlanta coming and going, and it looked to be the same this year. A delayed flight out of KC had me anxious. Husband and I scrambled through the Atlanta terminal - me running until I hit a large crowd of people and then having to stop and Husband walking briskly and appearing far less maniacal. I made it to the gate three seconds earlier, which convinces me my method paid off.

Once in Charleston, Husband explained to car rental agent that this is our last trip sans baby for the next year and the guy kindly upgraded our rental…

Breast Practice

While my last post stated I really have nothing to complain about pregnancy-wise, I was wrong. I will continue to post about my out-of-control chest region.

Last weekend was an exercise in futility as I tried to find a swimsuit to wear on my upcoming vacation. Buying a swimsuit when you're not pregnant is less than enjoyable. Buying one while pregnant ranks just above a root canal.

While trying on various options at Destination Maternity, I could not stop laughing. The sales girl popped over to ask if I needed help. My question was do you have any suit available that when I put it on will not scare small children? Her answer? "We don't carry anything with under wire support."

Yeah, thanks. You could have pointed that out sooner and saved me lots of time and discouragement. Mission failed.

Then last night Husband tells me about a discussion he had with the lifeguard at the Y. She commented that she doesn't often see swimmers with breasts as big as mine. He agreed…