Let's Get Physical....

(....in the 80's jazzercise way, and not the creeper-ish way I just realized that sounded.) 

Anyway, earlier this week, I had to go to the doctor and get an actual physical.  My first physical since, oh, my pee-wee cheerleading days. 

(And if you don't know what pee-wee cheerleading is, then I feel sad for you.)

Prior to my appointment, I get a phone call from the doctor's office, that goes a little something like this:

Nurse:  You have to fast from midnight until your appointment time, so we can draw blood.
Me:  And by "fast" you mean, I can have some crackers and maybe a bowl of cereal, right? 

Nurse:  Um no.  You cannot have anything to eat. ANYTHING.
Me:  What about my coffee? 

Nurse:  Sure, you can have coffee.....
Me:  Oh good, because I'm seriously addicted and can't live without it--

Nurse:  .....as long as it's black. 
Me:  BLACK COFFEE???  Are you serious!?  WHY would I do that to myself?  Why do you hate me?!?!?!

(Rash).

I arrived at 9:30 with my coffee all made up just the way I like it (or as John says, tasting like a donut), ready to down it, as soon as my bloodwork is over.  I asked the nurse if I could even start chugging while she was taking my blood. 

Nurse's response?  "Girl, that is so SAD." 

No shame here.  At least I'm not addicted to something REALLY bad.  Like reality tv. 

Oh wait.

Anyway, the doctor was great, and everything went well....until he looked in my left ear.  After which he told me that my ear is about 80% blocked with earwax. 

(So THAT must be why I can't hear John when he tells me not to go to Target.  Hmmmmmm......)

I tell the doctor that can't be possible, b/c I use q-tips to clean out my ears every single day.  I am clearly the very picture of perfect ear health.

Well, according to the doctor, q-tips are the devil, b/c they just shove the wax all the way down into your ear canal, permanently blocking things. 

(What's that?  You're gagging on your computer, while being appalled at my oversharing abilities?  Clearly you're new around here.)

The doctor is all, no worries....Nurse Renee here will be your ENT for the day--she'll get it out for you. 

The look on Nurse Renee's face may or may not have been slightly less than thrilled. 

I'll spare you the details of what happened next, because I'm sweet like that.  I DID sneak over to the trashcan after Nurse Renee left, to see if I could snap a photo of my ear trophy for John's viewing enjoyment. 

Or, for the blog's viewing enjoyment......

JUST KIDDING...people, I do have SOME boundaries.  Boundaries that include not digging into a medical waste bin. 

Which is really saying something.

18(ish) Months

Well, it's happened again.  Let's not act surprised though, shall we?  I mean, it was only a matter of time til I blog-slacked. Again.  And the sad thing is, I have SO MANY INTERESTING THINGS TO SAY.

No. 

But I do have things to say.  So, that'll work, right?

Let's hope.

First and most importantly, Ally Grace is (nearly) 18 months old!  And I am actually hitting a milestone that most moms blog about, instead of something random like 13.3 months and six days.

Dear Ally Grace,

You're so much fun these days!  You're also super exhausting these days.  Or maybe it's the pollen.  Or maybe it's the blood sugar crash that I have after downing a bag of truffles.  One or the other.


You're obviously such a tomboy.  If only we could get you to like girly things.
Oh wait.



I love, love, love hearing you call out for "mama" and "daddy."  You also love to say "mere."  Which I've decided is baby talk for "come here."  You like to deviously distract me from diaper changes by sweetly holding out your arms and saying "mere, mama."  It makes me hug you about 17 times per diaper change. 

So, it's totally working for you, girl.

Your favorite toys are still your "book-uhs."  You will literally scream for your "book-uh" the MOMENT I get you up in the morning, and dissolve into the cutest tears ever if I don't get it for you right away.  I thought about getting you a baby kindle, but I'm not sure they make those.

I'm also not sure you can actually read, so....

Your other favorite toy is your "dub-uh duh."  Aka, the bunny that you sleep with every night.  I've nicknamed him Dubs (like the ghetto fabulous baby toy that he clearly wants to be). 

You've started putting sentences together, which always stops us in our tracks.  The other day, you said "that's my daddy."  And then, "I want my mama."  And we were all, DID YOU HEAR THAT?!!?!?!  SHE IS A BABY GENIUS. 

Apparently we have a tendency to get overexcited. 

Future fashionista on board! 

One of your favorite words is a very emphatic "NO!"  Clearly John says that too much, and totally needs to work on this. 

(Okay, fine. Maybe that's me.  But in my defense, what else are you supposed to say to the toddler who's trying to help you unload the butcher knife from the dishwasher? Or just the toddler who's ripping apart my US Weekly?  I rest my case.)

You are honestly the sweetest, smiliest, happiest little girl, and we could NOT possibly love you more.
Unless you managed to potty-train yourself.  I might love you just a little bit more if you could do that.  

Happy 17 month and 20th day birthday....oh wait.....

Things That Make Me Happy...

...productivity, stainless steel wipes, Anthropologie, and lavender-scented dryer sheets.

Things that make me unhappy....a certain printer company, who, if I were nice, would remain nameless, but after 5 days of getting the run-around by said printer company (whose name starts with an "H" and ends with a "P"....oops), I am so over being nice.

So over it. 

(Although my version of mean is sadly un-scary and un-intimidating, and probably makes people want to laugh.)

Let me tell you something else that makes me slightly unhappy (if by "slightly," I mean "ragingly"):  Talking to Dot in Arkansas for multiple rounds of technical support.  (Really, HP?  REALLY?  Dot in Arkansas?!) 

Multiple rounds of technical support.

On a brand-new printer. 

That we purchased less than a week ago. 

It also makes me rather unhappy to hear Dot in Arkansas tell me to "please hold, while I research the problem." 

REALLY, DOT?!  I KNOW HOW TO WORK THE GOOGLE TOO, AND YOU'RE NOT GONNA FIND ANY ANSWERS, DOT!  WIKIPEDIA ISN'T GONNA TELL YOU HOW TO FIX THIS.  QUIT "INSTRUCTING" ME TO TURN MY COMPUTER ON AND OFF.  I WOULD THROW THIS PRINTER OUT THE WINDOW IF I COULD PICK IT UP AND GET SOME GOOD MOMENTUM GOING!  BUT SINCE THAT'S DOUBTFUL, I'M GONNA YELL AT YOU IN ALL CAPS, DOT!

Like the sassy consumer that I am.  Try not to be too scared, now. 

Decide for Yourselves.....

You decide....cute or scary?

(And by scary, I'm not referring to the freakishly long nature of my toes.)

(Or the fact that I'm supposed to be working, and instead am taking pictures of my scary finger-toes and putting them on the world-wide web.)

Also, I'll give you a helpful hint, just like I do with John sometimes:  I'm only looking for opinions that will  tell me this is cute.  Because it's too late.  It's like asking, "What do you think of my new bangs?"  Because if anyone says something like, "wow, that's really only a look that Heidi Klum can pull off," you might find it slightly to very upsetting.

So.  Just tell me the green toes are cute, and not as Jolly Green Giant as they appear at the moment.  Definitely do not tell me that 30-year old mothers shouldn't wear green toenail polish. 

Even if it may or may not be true. 

Baby Bangs

Dear baby bangs,

I hate you.

(Disclaimer:  this is NOT in reference to the blog, Baby Bangs, which I actually love. And stalk read religiously.  And maybe perhaps daydream about being friends with Amanda, Beth Moore's daughter.  Who probably hates being referred to as "Beth Moore's daughter." )

So, what was I saying?  Oh yes.  Baby bangs, you're awful.  Why do you insist upon torturing new moms with random hairs that stick STRAIGHT OUT of our heads?  Like, at a 45-degree angle?  Right where our hair parts....I mean, that's just unnecessary. 

And for that matter, why are you still sticking around sixteen months after I had a baby?!?!  I mean, a few months, I can deal with.  No one feels pretty right after having a baby (and if you do, there may be something wrong with you, and we cannot be friends).   What's one more thing? I mean, add it to the hemorrhoids, cankles, and spare tire around the middle.  I can take it.

But it's been a year and a half!  PLEASE.  GO AWAY. 

My flatiron can't even tame you, and at 400 degrees of straightening power, that's really saying something.

(And maybe I should examine why I think it's okay to burn my hair at 400 degrees on the regular.)

(And while I'm at it, I should examine why I think it's okay to say things like "on the regular." I'm not Usher.  Or Justin Bieber.)

So, while I appreciate you trying to keep me humble by making me look crazy all the time, I do not need your help.  I promise. 

I've got more than enough crazy to go around.

Valentine's Day and Christmas

What?  It's not like they're months apart or anything. 

Oh wait.  But they both involve the color red, so I think that makes it work. 

Right? 

(Let's be honest, who even cares at this point?  Just the fact that I have some time to blog right now is nothing short of miraculous.  Maybe I should try to cover St. Patty's Day too, while I'm actually on here.)

So, we'll start with Valentine's Day.  I hope you all had a wonderful day, full of romance, flowers, and most importantly, those large heart-shaped boxes of candy....my own personal favorite.  My V-day was a little less exciting.  It started a few weeks before during a conversation with John that went something like this:

John:  Hey babe, I'm so sorry, but I'm going to be out of town for work on Valentine's Day.

Me:  Bahahahaha, that's hilarious.  Nice try, but I know you're just trying to surprise me with some fun Valentine's Day date. Where are we going?

John:  Um....no really.  I have meetings in LA all day....

Sherri:  ....AND YOU'RE TAKING ME WITH YOU!  YAY!  I CAN'T WAIT TO SPEND V-DAY CELEBRITY STALKING.  I mean, in LA with you, of course. 

John:  Yeah....no.  I really have to be there for work, and I really can't take you with me.

Sherri:  Well, what idiot planned meetings on Valentine's day?! 

John:  That would be this idiot.

Oops.

So, we celebrated with a baby-free weekend, the weekend BEFORE Valentine's Day.  John re-created our first date--in which we went to South City Kitchen (where I daintily stuffed my face with a plateful of fried chicken.)  Then, on to the Whole World Theatre for some improv comedy. (Where I prayed like crazy that they wouldn't pull me up on stage and make me do something embarrassing.)  Then, on to Krispy Kreme, where I, once again, stuffed my face (daintily, of course) with some glazed donuts. 

Clearly, every fun night should end with donuts and a super stylish hat. 

(A super-stylish hat that he made me wear all the way home.  Nice.)

He also was very sweet, and surprised me with a trip to one of my favorite stores (starting with an "Anthro"  and ending with a "pologie") to help me pick out a little treat.  I had to laugh at him  and this other poor guy, miserably sitting on a little sofa, waiting for their women to come out of the dressing rooms. 

(I may or may not have prolonged my trying-on experience just to see what a trooper he was.  I'm sweet like that.)

Anyway, since I was ALL ALONE on the actual Valentine's day (John, are you reading this? Don't feel bad or anything), I may or may not have rewarded myself with some candy.  And some lattes.  And a spin class (oh wait, that wasn't actually a reward, now that I think about it).  And watching lots of my favorite shows on tivo.  In my sweats.

It was kinda awesome.

Now, on to my Christmas recap.  I figure since we still have Christmas lights on the front of our house, this is totally acceptable, right? 

(Wrong.  In more ways than one.)

Regardless, here's a quick recap, list style:

1.  First Christmas at home as a family! Like, ever.  Well, ever in the last 6 years.  And it snowed on Christmas day for the first time in about 100 years.  Amazing.

2.  AG actually got to open and enjoy some presents.  Although, let's be honest, she really enjoyed the wrapping paper and boxes.


Pure Christmas Cuteness



Her new music set.  And I'm pretty sure she hit herself in the head with the maraca, right after this picture.
Oh sweet, Christmas memories.



3.  John and I were old farts mature adults and got ourselves a Christmas gift that we needed.  Yes.  The rest of our dining room chairs.  Perhaps you can tell this wasn't my idea?

4.  John then surprised me with a Christmas morning scavenger hunt.....

I will not even tell you how long it took me to figure this clue out, because I'm embarrassed.
Let's just say, a bit longer than it should have.

 .......that lead to the new love of my life my Kindle!

Why yes.  That's me, sleeping with my kindle. 
And yes. It was my sweet, kind husband who took this lovely picture of me.

At least I wasn't drooling.

Happy Christmas-tine's Day!

Lately...

....my life has been nuts.  Seriously, nuts.  Think, a little something like this:

....wake up....feed AG, play with AG while negotiating three different contracts for three different clients....try to sufficiently wear AG out so she will nap longer than 5 minutes (unlike today)....work, work, work, throw about 15 loads of laundry in at once in an effort to save time.....clean up the toys in the living room for the 14th time in one day, while wondering when AG will start to understand the concept of "helping mommy cleanup".....try to figure out dinner for AG....wonder if string cheese and chicken nuggets will cut it....again. Put her to bed.....try to figure out dinner for us.....wonder if string cheese and chicken nuggets will cut it...again. Fall on the couch in sheer exhaustion and decide to zone out in front of an episode of Hellcats.....(it's the Vampire Diaries of 2011.  At least for me). 

Are you jealous?  Yeah, didn't think so.  And any ideas on how to clone yourself? 

I did actually make it to a Superbowl Party last night.  Apparently, I was a Steelers fan, thanks to an extra jersey that Kristin brought me.  And the fact that I liked their colors better.  Which is a totally appropriate way to decide which team to root for.

Also, I hate the word root.  It reminds me of high school, where NO LIE, someone decided it was cool to start saying "Oh my root" instead of "oh my gosh." 

And by someone I do NOT mean me. 

(And I would never admit it if it was.)

(Although it wasn't.)

(Promise.)