My Issues

Let's face it. I have issues.

You can ask my parents, siblings, husband, co-workers, friends, or even friends of friends. I do horrible at hiding it and even occasionally try to play them off as not that big of a deal... or even funny. But all I really do is make myself look more like a nut.

It all started as a kid. I'd like to blame my parents. They forced me to swallow the hugest pills ever that would make my hair grow. Why would they need to make my hair grow?? I present you with Exhibit A.

I think my mom enjoyed torturing me with horrible haircuts growing up. She must have liked the thought of all nicknames I would receive on the playground. Why else would she insist on cutting my hair to the shape of a bowl??

I can honestly say that I have major lapses of memory from my childhood all of which center around the haircut I had at the time. This photo: no recollection. Ages 8-13: nothing. I believe it is my brains way of protecting me from needing additional counseling.

However, the pills I cannot forget. Because of those horrible nights I cannot swallow pills larger than an Aleve. I've tried, but the pill always wins.

Then, there is my jaw. While dating, Jeremy invited a friend, Amanda, and me to a haunted forest his fraternity was putting on. We were almost out of the horrid thing when he just disappeared. Then, within a minute a man, rather a boy, jumps out with a chainsaw and chases us with what at that moment I could only assume was the intent to kill us. I go one way; my friend the other. And my jaw becomes dislocated. So now, when I go to the dentist I have to tell the story and then take breaks throughout the cleaning and inspecting so as to not wear out my jaw. One apparently never fully recovers from such injuries.

And, yes, somehow I still forgave him enough to marry him. What love I have!

Then, there is needles. I'm not really sure where this stems from. It could the fact that I do not get pleasure from pain like some of you crazies. Or it could be that I gave blood once and ended up passing out. Either way, to this day, my hand must be held when a shot is administered and I will likely have a panic attack followed by tears, and the realization that indeed I am 3.

So one can only imagine what happened two weeks ago when my issues came to a head: the moment in which it hit me that in just a few weeks Bradley must leave my body.

Ok, ok. I realize how dumb that must sound. And I can just picture you laughing at that at 7 months this thought just occurred to me. Of course he has to leave your body. What did you think would happen?? He'd just grow up and eventually take over your body?? And my answer to you is yes, yes I actually did.

For the past 7 months my mindset has been to survive. And because of my issues I have just casually ignored the inevitable. I concentrated on each day as if it were my last. Pushing forward for the better of my son.

Then, out of the blue reality hit. It was bad. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't see. I was dizzy. It was a panic attack.

I took deep breaths to calm myself down and then called Jeremy. "Maybe it's time you read something," was his response. Thank you, Sherlock Holmes.

However, reading something takes time that I do not have. And I'm convinced that the whole mission of the female race is to torture each other with horrific "what-if" stories. So I did the next best thing. I called every childbirth educator within a 45 mile radius.

And no one returned my call. 

I wondered if it was the desperation in my voice. Or perhaps that apparently I should have already been in a class. Or that I may have let on that I needed to work through some issues.

So a week later, I called everyone again. This time, Jennifer called me back. Sweet, sweet Jennifer. I could tell that as I tearfully told her my story and hinted towards my issues (no need to overwhelm so early on) that she truly felt bad for me, and that she wanted to help. Hallelujah!

So two nights ago, we started our birthing classes. We talked through some of my fears and things that could trigger my anxiety. We talked through the medical aspect of birthing a human being (Hey- I didn't just stop breathing!) and how our bodies were made to adapt to such extreme pain and stretching. I sat and absorbed. Jeremy asked tons of questions and took notes. So between us I'm actually feeling a little better today. I haven't completely agreed to Bradley's grand exit, but I am a step closer.

We go back next week to work on breathing exercises, stretches, and positions. It should be interested. Rumor has it that one is actually called the Captain Morgan. I may just have to take my camera...

Nursery Update: What's in your mood?

Please see the previous posts: My Domino Self and The Paint Job for all the beginnings.

Ah! The mood board. I have been waiting MONTHS to share this with you. I am so exciting. Since starting the decorating process, this is how mine and Jeremy's conversations have gone:

"Do you like this?"
"It's a little girly, don't you think?"
"Naw, I don't think it is. Do you?"
"How much is it?"
"Umm..."
"Yes, it's definitely girly then. Just think, if you really like it than 95% of the time it is going to be girly."
"But I think it could go either way. I mean, Bradley is going to be stylish."
"I like this instead."
"What?! That's completely ugly. Bradley is not going to have an ugly room."
"Well, let's just think about it a little longer."
"I think I'm going to get it."
"Ok. But let's try to make this a boy's room...within our budget."

Throughout the process, Jeremy has been Mr. Doubter of my style sense, but I think I proved him wrong. Actually, I'd be bold enough to say that he's a bit impressed with my mad skills in the decor department. At one point, he even commented how glad he was that I follow so many blogs for ideas. I smiled and gave him a huge kiss. It was the kindest compliment he'd ever given me.

So without further ado!

Here is the mood board:

 

There's no "theme" per say, but we have two hippos, a sailboat mobile, and two sailboats on display in honor of Jeremy's love for them. I can't wait until you see the finished product.You'll go bananas for sure. 

Are you a betting man??

Bradley has around 10 weeks left before he makes his debut. And in classic Mac-Vegas style, Jeremy and I thought it would be fun to make bets on when exactly that debut will happen.

Personally, I think it will be December 6 around 3:15 p.m.

Jeremy's guess is December 5 at 3 a.m.

Now, your turn. What day and time do you think he'll come forth?

The person with the closest day and time will receive a $10 gift card to Target. 

And just to be fair: You should all know that I have a final on December 2. My legs will be tightly crossed until then. :-)

Good Luck!

Thursday night

This is Jeremy.

He is my husband. The love of my life. And the cook of our house.

This is Bradley.

Jeremy had a lot to do with Bradley's existence... You'd think this would help me. It does not. It just makes me wonder...

Thursdays are my long days. I have work and then class. I take snacks to carry me and Bradley through. I eat extra protein. But by the time I get out of class, Bradley usually has resorted to eating a rib. This is what happened last night.

I come home and tell our house chef that Bradley needs to eat. He responds that he fell asleep; dinner still has a while. I stare. I scratch my head. I ask why.

This is what time it was.

 

 This is what the timer said

Jeremy then said it was actually longer than that. I ask why again. I swore we had leftovers. I swore we had quick frozen dinners. I swore there are a thousand restaurants within a 15 mile radius of our house. I ask why.

He responds with he fell asleep. He was sorry.

So apparently when my husband, whom I love very much, wakes up at 7:30 p.m. and realizes he has to feed his growing family, he decides to cook this

Like this:

And again I ask why. No, seriously. Why?

Nursey Update: The Paint Job

To see previous post of my Inspiration Board: **HERE**

I'll never forget the moment.

"Jeremy, we need to paint the baby's room soon!"

"Ok."

"Do you know how to paint indoors?"

"Yeah, it's easy. You just paint up and down."

"Baby, there's a method. I think it's a W."

"I've never heard of that."

"I'm calling my dad immediately."

Yes, I quickly came to realize that as new homeowners, Jeremy and I have little to no experience with anything having to do with home improvements.

And that's where my dad stepped in to save the day.

Now, the minute I asked my dad to come and he agreed, I put the whole thing behind me. I was cool and relaxed. My dad was going to take care of it.

Then, I get this e-mail... 4 days before his arrival:

Hi Sweet Pea,

Your Momma, Rebekah, and I are excited about coming up and seeing you and Jeremy this weekend. We are going to have fun! I can't wait to see your Momma with a paint brush in her hand. Lol. So being an event planner extraordinaire as you are, do you have everything together such as paints, brushes, rollers, trays, plastic sheets, ladder, tape and such? What do I need to bring? I have been playing scenarios in my head figuring out the best method to efficiently paint Bradley's room with all the helpers we will have. I thought if you all had a game plan in mind, we could review it before hand. Just thinking ahead. :-))

Love you,
Daddy 

Apparently, he did not know that my to do list was in the middle of growing legs and arms. Nor did he realize that I have no experience with painting. Which he should because as a kid there were a couple of things off limits to me: mowing the grass and painting. Now, picking up sticks he thought I did exceptionally well. But the others were forbidden.

So I replied:

Hi Dad:

We are excited too!! We really appreciate you all coming to help. You have no idea. I mean, really.

As for supplies and a game plan, yeah... we really don't have either. We went and got a sample of the light blue. It's sitting in our laundry room waiting for Jeremy to put on the wall so that I can look at it. And the dark blue... well... Jeremy still has to pick up a sample. He said he's going by today. I told him it was a must. Especially since his wisdom teeth are coming out on THURSDAY. hahahaha. This could be disastrous.

Jeremy said we'd pick up all the supplies this week. But honestly he nor I have clue what to get, how much to get, or anything about painting inside. So if you could guide us, we'll have everything here upon your arrival! (For instance, do we need a primer?? What is a primer??)

Also, when are you coming? Friday night or Saturday morning?

Love you,
Jessica

And that's when I got a reply e-mail that is way to long to post here. I mean, it was a book. It was overwhelming. I may have cried. Jeremy was to have his wisdom teeth out in 2 days. And so I was going to have to take care of all the paint items. And like I said... I know nothing...

So after I wiped my eyes and expressed my utter concern to Jeremy, we pushed forward. I immediately made a list of all supplies needed (b/c that's what I do best... make lists). Jeremy took off a day from work to do all the shopping and put the samples on the wall for me to review... and then we said a prayer that his wisdom teeth removal would go well and he'd be able to paint.

And when my dad, mom, and sister arrived, the room was taped, supplies laid out, and paint bought! I couldn't believe it. We were ready to go.

Now, obviously in the state I am in, I was unable to participate in the festivities. So in between all this crazy "I have to buy what?!" mess, my mom and I decided that we should go shopping instead. So me, her, and my sister (after she finished painting her 2x2 square ;-)) went out on the town and let the men folk do their thing.

Here's the before:

The room was a light pink. Perfect for a little girl. We are having a boy. So painting was a must. Although I think real men can sleep in a pink room.

 

Another before. The room is tiny. Which is perfect for a boy. He doesn't need the space. Plus, he's right next door to the Man Cave. So technically, he has two rooms. I have all the other 10. They are mine. Stay away stinky boys. Unless you are invited. Then, you can come... but you must leave and return to your two rooms.

The men hard at work. It really only took them half a day to paint the room. They were quick. And it looks so good!! Want to see??

My favorite part: the accent wall!! It's navy blue.

It's hard to see in the picture. It looks really great.

The painters. Rebekah insisted she be a part of the picture. She did paint (one line)... Oh, and she removed one piece of tape.... Let's just say, she's become an only child and it has gone to her head.

Either way, thank you so much for coming and helping us out! It was tremendous!

P.S. We'll let you know when we are ready for the next room. ;-)

For the love... of a dog

Parker knows change is coming.

He senses it.

While Jeremy encourages me along throughout this pregnancy, my baby boy sympathizes with it.


It all started when I was getting sick 24/7. Almost every other day, Parker would join me by throwing up himself. Of course, I would follow that up with throwing up again, only to prove that I am alpha.

Then came the constipation. We would seriously go a week without a "doo doo". {Yes, we command our dog to use the restroom and reward it with a "t-r-e-a-t". Heck, at that point in my pregnancy, I rewarded myself for going #2!}

Naps quickly became a staple for us.

And after we both began to eat again, we started to gain weight... together. Our little Parker quickly began to turn into a Porker courtesy of sympathy pains, increased human food consumption, and an increased amount of dog food.

{On a side note, this was actually a great thing because the vet said he needed to gain weight. Of course, our precious angel is the pickiest eater in the entire universe of dogs and so it took some creativity to make it happen, but all in all it worked and he actually wears the weight adorably. Although, it has given him a big dog complex...}

When I started to get hot flashes, Parker began to experience them as well. Or perhaps he just likes the feel of the wind blowing in through his hair. I'm not really sure...

Leg cramps and toe cramps always brought about lots of kisses from my baby. He would run to me immediately wanting to make it all go away. I tell you, he's an angel.

The most interesting part, though, has been the change in Parker's personality. He's gone from Mr. Independent to Mr. Snuggles in just the past month. He can't seem to get close enough to Jeremy or I. It's really too cute. All he wants is our love and attention.

For instance, the other night he woke me up because he heard a strange noise. Of course, I then woke Jeremy up who responded with a "Why did you wake me up?" and a "Heck no, I'm not going to go check it out." {No worries. He did. We were fine.} But as a reward for being such a brave little dog, I immediately moved Parker to our bed. The entire night he laid right beside me... in my arms. Totally out of character for him. Usually, he wants to be at the foot of the bed and sighs at me for even wanting him near my arms.

Yes, Parker knows that as my tummy grows, we are getting closer and closer to big changes.

So imagine my freak out moment when Mr. Snuggles all of a sudden disappeared into thin air!

Here's where I'm just going to be honest with you. It did take me a while to realize his absence. I promise I am an excellent Mom, but I was watching Rachel Zoe and well, I die. But the minute I realized Parker wasn't beside me I jumped up to see where he was.

I checked his favorite places first:

 By the door

In the kitchen

The dining room... My pace began getting quicker and quicker...

Our bedroom... Our bathroom

No Parker. I remembered earlier in the night he slipped through Jeremy's legs and ran outside, but I thought we got him back in. But maybe he went outside again.

I looked everywhere, under everything, in everything... I was a mess. So I called to Jeremy for reinforcement.

And that's when we found him. Under our bed, on top of my Vera Bradley bag, asleep. I mean, we always knew Parker had his quirks, but this took it to a whole new level.

 Now, when he's not on us, we know he's on top of Vera sleeping. And if he's on top of Vera, he does not want to be disturbed. He can be called, dragged, promised rewards, and nothing will get him off. As a dog mom expecting a child, I wonder if I should be concerned by this latest behavior.

Then again, maybe I need my own personal hiding place come December. Think Parker will share??

Doctor, Doctor

I made it! I am officially in my third trimester...alive! Woohoo!

To kick it off in the right direction, Jeremy and I met with our pediatrician yesterday. The office was everything you imagine a pediatricians to be: tiny furniture, colorful, cool shaped lollipops (yes, I resisted taking one), and just the nicest staff. We felt loved and at home immediately. And then we met with the doctor.

Within 5 minutes, we weren't sure whether he thought we were insane or just the coolest, most laidback parents ever. He asked us all the basic questions: due date, sex, good or bad pregnancy, whether or not I was breastfeeding, insurance, etc. You know, easy stuff.

Then, he just had to ask more.

He asked what all I was reading. I laughed nervously and explained that we weren't reading anything. We figured people have done it for years and we'd ask them if we had questions. Plus, I might have a nervous breakdown if I happened to read the wrong thing. The doctor smiled and nodded.

He went on to ask if we had a dog. Jeremy had to stop me from going on and on about Parker's preciousness and how he was going to be the best big brother, which he will be.

He asked us if we had researched shots. I again laughed nervously and said no, but that I received them and turned out fine so why not. Jeremy told him that the only one he questioned was the flu shot.

When I didn't think we could look anymore unprepared for parenting and life in general... I mean, appear anymore chill and in control... he asked if we had any questions for him. Oh, me oh my. I hadn't even thought that I would need to ask him questions. I was just following what all my friends had done! They had all met with the pediatrician before giving birth and so were we! So after yet another nervous laugh, I said that we didn't but was sure we would once Bradley came forth. He then told me about their 24/hr phone service for all those questions. Whew! So if my mom learns to turn off her phone come December 2, I now can be confident knowing that I have a backup plan.

The bane of my existence

It all started three weeks ago.

I have no idea what caused it or how it came to be. All I know is that I went to bed a semi-normal wife, co-worker, friend, and mother and woke up with an innate need to accomplish all my life's goals, dreams, tasks, etc. in a 4 month period. And unfortunately for all those around me, four months felt more like 24 hours.

Nesting.

It's a vicious disease that can be added to the list of "Bewares" related to pregnancy. I had always heard of it. I knew it could possibly happen to me. But I'd always been a planner, an organizer, a woman with a work and a home to do list. Could "nesting" really occur to someone like me? Someone as on top of things??

Apparently, it can. And it will take over you and your household.

It reveals itself through a simple, but exceedingly long to do list.

Like I mentioned above, I have always been a huge fan of a to do list. Each Friday at work I make a list of all the things I want to accomplish over the weekend and the following week. It's divided up by personal and non-personal items. The home list goes to our house and is placed on my dresser. My work list is placed on top of my pile of papers ready for Monday morning. I get complete joy out of each item I check off, as well as how quickly I can get things done. It's really an exciting thing.

On a side note: In college, my best friend and I used to do our to do list by the hour AND make sure to include our favorite shows on it. We'd compare at the beginning of the week just to make sure we didn't miss a Gilmore Girl episode or a social event. Aw. Fun times!

But the to do lists of late have become pure beasts. I'm talking about it just grows and grows and grows and items are being checked off at a slower pace than ever. It's turning into a complete disaster.

I thought about ways to decrease the list. Enter Jeremy. He is so sweet, loving, and unselfish. And my to do list became three. Now each Friday, I create him a list as well. Of course his items are first placed on mine, crossed out, and then placed on his. And in order to be really sweet about it, I even found an adorable template online to put his list on.

Now, before you get in a hissy about the possibility of me taking advantage of my husband's demeanor just know that my list is seriously twice as long as his and really the things on his list are more "boy" things.  It's really a win-win-win situation of sorts.

Ok. So here's where the nesting thing is getting on my last nerves and the reason my to do list is having trouble getting shorter: I'm becoming more and more lazy each day. Seriously, if I have to choose between wearing clean clothes tomorrow or napping today, I will nap. If the New Jersey Housewives reunion show is on, forget all about Parker getting his bath. And each morning I have to convince myself that taking a shower is not only good for me, but also for all those around me. All I want to do is be a bum. Our house is in disarray, mail is piled on our dresser, e-mails are not being returned, decisions are being left up to who knows to make, and in the middle is my to do list staring at me, laughing, and making me more and more stressed.

The only thing left for me to do is to hire a personal assistant, maid, instant beautifier, and, obviously, somehow come up with a million dollars. Guess I better add it to my to do list....

Cleaning out the Camera

This weekend is going to be big and exciting! We are painting Bradley's room!! And to prepare, I decided to clean out the camera. Enjoy!

"I just want to be left alone..."

If I had a dime for every time I came home to this, I'd retire today.

I may sometimes over pack for a trip...

"My two favorite things: sleeping and spooning."

In his Christmas coat. We'll say he loves it, with the definition of love being used loosely.

I may or may not have staged this photo.

Freshly groomed by yours truly.

And finally...

The bump two weeks ago.

When You Send a Man to the Grocery Store

Jeremy was so sweet this week. I was feeling a little overwhelmed by my super long to do list that has grown legs and taken on another life of its own when Jeremy offered to go grocery shopping for me. My grocery list was super organized by aisle and with as much detail as I could provide (size, brand, etc.). I felt confident in his ability to get all the items on the list and told him my phone was going to be on me in case he had any questions. And then as with most things today I simply forgot all about the entire conversation, the need for food in our house, and basically every other thought I had prior to forgetting them all.

Today, I needed to find some of the items he had bought. I open up the fridge. Everything looked good. Then, I moved to the pantry. And what did I find?? Well, let's just say I didn't even know they made cream of chicken soup in this large of a can.

As I stared at it, I just kept wondering... why in the world would he buy such a big can?? I knew I put how much I needed on the list. Then, I wondered where he found such a big can. Then, I thought... how are we going to use all this cream of chicken soup?

So I did what any wife does in these situations. I went to the source.

"Jeremy, honey, I love that you went shopping for me. I mean really I do. It was soo sweet and helped soo much. But, sweetheart, why did you buy such a big can of cream of chicken soup? Did you not see the sizes I'd placed right beside each item?"

"I know it meant a lot. I did see it. I think it said 10 oz. That's 10 oz."

"Baby, this is 26 oz. not 10 oz."

"I swear it said 10 oz. on it."

And, Ladies and Gentlemen, upon closer review of the can. It did indeed say 10 oz.

1 pound 10 oz!

I think it is going to take Jeremy a little while to live this one down.