A Letter to My Girl

Dear Ally Grace,

Well, technically I wanted to write this when you turned 4.  Which was about 3 months ago.  Unfortunately, your mommy is a procrastinator, but hey….at least it's happening, right?  I just know that I can't allow myself to forget this age, because it has been SO FULL.

(Full of what, you ask? Well, mostly joy, although there has definitely been a good mixture of sass, eye-rolling, and "where did that come from?" mixed in.)

See the sass?  It's right there, front and center.

People say that with all kids, you either get the terrible twos, or the terrible threes.  And I made the rookie mistake of congratulating myself as your 4th birthday approached, as we hadn't run into either one of the "terribles."

As in, "wow, Sherri, look how EASY Ally Grace has been.  It must have a lot to do with your AMAZING PARENTING SKILLS."

Um, NO.  What's that they say about pride coming before a fall?  A-hem.

Because all the crazy came for us when you turned 4.  All of it.  And I say this in love, as one day you will understand how it's possible to insanely love your child, even while they are literally acting insane.

Pure, adorable insanity, I tell ya.

Like the time when you screamed at me that you would NEVER AGAIN LET YOUR POO POO COME OUT OF YOUR BOTTOM.  NEVER!  IN YOUR WHOLE LIFE!!

(You may have even slammed the door in my face, but I'm not sure, as I have actively tried to block that horrendous experience from my memory.)

Or any one of the times when I watched you physically morph from a sweet and obedient little girl, into a wild Tasmanian devil, complete with a language of gibberish, unintelligible to the adult ear.

Or the time that you yelled at the top of your lungs that "Daddy tooted and it smelled like chicken nuggets!"  In public.

(EW.  And I may never eat another chicken nugget again, thankyouverymuch.)

But I would never do that.  Don't you see the sweet, innocent face I'm working, here?

BUT. Then, THEN, there were the times when you grabbed my face and said "I love you mommy.  You're my favorite girl."

Or the times I watched you do "Jackson chases" with daddy, all around the house.  (Even if I did need a sedative after all the excitement.)

A superhero.  With a pink headband. This says so much about you, actually.

Or all the nights that you begged me to make up a "mean old witch story" for you.  (And then proceeded to tell me exactly what I should say.)

At least I know that I've influenced your fabulous taste in cowboy boots.

And the time that I literally cried all the way home from your school, as you sweetly sang "Whom Shall I Fear," in the backseat.

It's been so amazing to see your personality develop this year, Ally Grace.  Most people say that you look like a little "mini-me."  But I have to tell you, from a personality standpoint, you are eerily similar to your daddy, in all the best ways:  You LOVE people, and will talk to ANYONE.  You curiosity is off the charts, and you've already stumped me so many times with your questions (which is both awesome, and slightly humiliating).  According to your teachers, you love doing anything that requires "movement" and you learn best when you can use your hands.  You adore animals and anything "science-related." You are FEARLESS, and it makes my heart so happy that you are confident enough to "leap without looking."  You challenge me every day to do the same.

You already love Jesus, and tell us all the time that he is your friend. That you are "excited" about Him.  NOTHING makes us prouder than hearing that.  He is going to do great things with your  life, and I cannot WAIT to see how He uses that big personality of yours, girlfriend.

I have adored my moments with you this year, in every way possible.  Even when I was nauseous and exhausted from being pregnant, and even when I felt totally overwhelmed.  Even when I may or may not have allowed a little extra TV time, just so I could snuggle with you on the couch.  You are my little Ally Bear, my girl, my little presh.  And I know I say this to you all the time, but I think it bears repeating: I will always love you, NO MATTER WHAT.

Even when one or both of us is acting insane.

Pregnancy Journal…The End Is Near.

Wow, that sounded rash and dramatic, and totally unlike me, didn't it?

(Stop laughing.  Rude.)

I've officially made it into my 39th week, and since I can't be trusted to keep weekly pregnancy journals, let's do another little wrap up so I can accurately remember this hell and never do it again record all the joys of the dreaded third trimester.

The Third Trimester.  (a.k.a. When the *** hits the fan).

Holy Belly, Batman.
Okay, that was weird and I'm sorry.

Weight Gained:

Bahahahaha, like I'm gonna put that out on the INTERNET.  Be for real.  No. Let's all pretend it's a modest 15-20lb weight gain that will have me back in my pre pregnancy jeans in 2 weeks.


Cravings:

Anything chocolate, anything carb-ish, anything remotely bad for you.  My non-cravings on the other hand are lean proteins and veggies.

Symptoms:

Mostly the kind that would fall under the category of "oversharing."  Additionally, my heartburn has kicked itself up a notch, and it feels like there is an evil rubber band made out of hot lava constantly constricting my ribs.

Or something like that.

Fave Pregnancy Moments:

Let's see……how about the one where I started sobbing at the end of the last Twilight movie? But you know, the quiet kind of sobbing where you're hiding your face so your husband doesn't laugh at you or rudely call you out.  Except that he knows you so well, that he immediately knows you're crying and then rudely calls you out.

No?

Or maybe it was the one where I was forced to choose between tying my shoes and crushing my baby in utero.

Not that one, either?

Hmmmmm……wait, it was definitely this moment:

That actually WAS pretty fun, now that I think about it.  

How I've Been Spending My Time Lately: 

In no particular order:

Eating.  Chewing Tums.  Complaining. (That was John. Punk.)  Trying to jump, skip, or squat the baby out of me in any of my favorite places…i.e. Anthropologie, Starbucks, or Nordstrom.  Clearly, they would offer me a lifetime supply of clothes/coffee/general awesomeness for that. 

Clearly.  

Finding out that I'm actually having a baby with Vanilla Ice.

I literally can't. even.

Spending as much time with this girl as possible:

I adore her in the biggest way.

I think that pretty much sums up the third trimester in it's entirety.  I've got my hospital bag packed and ready to go, like a good little pregnant mama, so we'll see when this kid decides to make his debut.

(Which if I can make a request will be before my due date, but after I get my highlights on Thursday.  Just keeping it real.)

Until then, I'll just be skipping some laps around Starbucks.

Letter to Baby D...No. 2

Disclaimer:  I wrote this post back during the summer, and never posted it.  Apparently, I was either too tired, too nauseous, or too caught up in whether Joey would choose Dawson or Pacey.  But, in the interest of not letting the two weeks it took me to write this go to waste, I'm gonna post it now.

I mean, why not, right?

Somewhere in the neighborhood of June-ish 2013

If you follow me on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter, then you already know that the reason for my rather extended absence from the blog:

I'm pregnant.

And I'd really love to tell you that I've been too busy to write because my life has been all pregnancy sunshine and roses.  But, NO.  It's been more like pregnancy "laying on the couch and bitterly envying all of your beach photos on Facebook, while I try desperately not to throw up."

So, yeah.

Even so, we are super excited to meet our second-born.  And I thought now might be a good time to write him or her a little letter.

Dear Baby D #2,

Well.  It's been interesting thus far, hasn't it?  Hopefully at least one of us is enjoying this pregnancy with comfort and ease.  And if it can't be me, then I'm glad it's you.

Can I tell you something?  I secretly think you're a girl.  (Which I realize probably means you're a boy.)  But, the day I found out I was pregnant, I got my first manicure that didn't consist of me hacking my fingernails off with John's toenail clippers.  And the color I just so happened to pick from the most enormous wall of nail polishes known to man was, (are you ready for this?),"It's a Girl."

And I was all, "God, was that you? Here in the nail salon?"

Seriously though, I keep having dreams that you're a girl.  And no one can even suggest that you might be a boy to Ally Grace.  She's convinced she's got a baby sister coming.

(She wants to name you "Lucifer" by the way.  Whether or not I let her depends on how nice you are to me during the rest of this pregnancy.)

Boy or girl, I can already tell that you're a feisty little thing.  Either that, or you're trying to kill me.  In fact, I actually have a few questions for you.

1.  Why are you so attached to Toaster Strudels?  I mean, they taste awesome when you're 12, but now? Not so much.  I'd really like to quit eating them all the time, please.

My thighs would like that as well.

2.  Speaking of my thighs.....You are in my uterus.  Which I am pretty sure is NOT IN MY THIGHS.  Why must I look as if I am pregnant in my thighs?  This is Not. Okay.

3.  What is up with the nausea?  I know you're in there.  I do not need a constant reminder, I promise.

4.  Also, why did I look pregnant the moment you were conceived?  Is that really necessary?

5.  Are you okay with the name "Legit?" That's AG's second choice, and I think it sounds pretty rockstar-ish.  No?  Maybe as a middle name?

In closing, if you could please make the middle part of my pregnancy at least moderately tolerable, I will agree to give you whatever you want.  Literally, whatever you want.  A pony?  Sure.  A private jet? I'll work on it. Just let mama eat again, and you can have all the Toaster Strudel smoothies you can drink.

And just so you know,  I plan to blame everything on you for at least the next year.

As in, Sherri, why are you being so grouchy?  Sorry, the baby's feeling cranky.

Or, Sherri, why haven't you done laundry in six months? The baby is much too tired.

Or how about, Sherri, why did you need those Frye boots?  Well, the baby liked them, so.....

No?

At any rate, I am super excited to meet you, little one.  Your big sister is awesome. And your daddy is pretty unbelievable too.


Love,

Your slightly crazy mother, who promises to do her best, even when all she wants to do is flop down on the couch with some chocolate and the Real Housewives.

You won't tell, right?

Holiday Maternity Style

Hey guys!  If you're pregnant right now or know anyone who is, head over to the Edit blog for a post I wrote on holiday maternity style.

And as you do, try not to die of shock that I just posted again without another 5 month hiatus.

I know.

By the way, a huge thank you to Bekah, for completely making my day and featuring my pregnancy journal post on her blog!  I can't even tell you how excited that made me (and if I did tell you, it would probably be embarrassing). Now, y'all go check out Bekah's blog, especially the love story section about how she met and married her cute husband.

Happy Monday, everyone!

My Pregnancy Journal...Here We Go Again.

I don't really know where to start except to say, "Hi, I'm Sherri, and I used to blog about my life. But then things like trying to discipline a very sassy 4 year old, and oh yeah, GETTING PREGNANT, took over my life."

Well.  Let's be honest.  It wasn't really the "getting pregnant" part that took over my life.  It's been the "being pregnant" part that has taken over my life.  And when I say took over my life, what I mean is that it forced me to lie on the couch and watch Dawson's Creek on Netflix for 4 months, while I tried hard not to vomit.

For real.  This is what I did for 4 solid months.  It was shameful AND awesome, all at the same time.
Well, awesome except for the nausea.  That part was NOT awesome.

I started this blog during my last pregnancy to document "the crazy" that was about to go down.  And then it turned into a documentation of all the actual crazy that is already in my life.  But never has my life been more crazy than during the last year.  And since AG got her turn, I've decided that our SON (aw, yeah!) needs his turn now.

Have y'all seen those journal style posts that cute pregnant bloggers write about their monthly/weekly pregnancy updates? They sweetly discuss topics like "weight gained," "cravings," "fave pregnancy moments," etc.  Since I'm already in my 3rd trimester, I'm going to post an abbreviated version of My Pregnancy Journal.  It's definitely not going to be super adorable and precious, but it's going to serve to remind me about what pregnancy is really like.  You know, so I don't get brainwashed into thinking I want to do it again.

First Trimester:

Weight Gain: Felt like 5 million pounds.  Mostly in my chest.  Was too afraid to actually find out.

Cravings:  Everything carbtastic, fried, or otherwise obtainable at a drive-thru window.

Well, hello there, little gummy bear.  You're the one causing all the chaos.
I should've known you were a boy.

Symptoms:  What kind of lying jerk decided to name it "morning sickness" anyway?  Since it started  basically the very moment I found out I was pregnant, I became convinced that I was having twins.  Evil ones, that were trying to kill me.

Fave Moments:  Telling John I was pregnant. I hid my positive test under the covers of the bed, and screamed that there was a HUGE SPIDER in there that he needed to kill.  And before you're all, "EW, Sherri you peed on a stick and then put it in your bed?!?!," don't worry.  I sanitized it first.  I'm smart like that.

See?  All wiped clean with extra antibacterial wipes.
Also, did I mention that John REALLY doesn't like spiders?  It was SO FUN to freak him out.
I'm sweet like that.

Our first picture of our new family of "four."
A.K.A. Back When I Was Still Thin

Second Trimester:

Weight Gain:  Finally got up the nerve to pay attention , and surprisingly, it was only 2 lbs.  Despite Mr. Zaxby's best efforts.

Cravings:  Orange Fanta and Candy Corn.  I mean, what? I literally can't even.

Symptoms:  It might be easier to talk about what I wasn't experiencing....because I pretty much had them all at this point.  Sore boobs, severe heartburn, and oh hi, nausea!  You're still here.  I think it was somewhere around 20 weeks or so when I finally was able to stop eating crackers in the middle of the night like a ravenous little chipmunk.  You know, to avoid barfing when I got up to pee.

Fave Moments:  Finding out we were having a BOY!  Y'all.  I am awful at the whole "mother's instinct" thing.  I was absolutely convinced that I was having another girl.  So, unfortunately, was AG.  When we went to the ultrasound appointment, we took her with us, and after the ultrasound tech said "it's definitely a boy!" AG was all, "um, no it's NOT. It's a baby sister."  Then, when the ultrasound switched to the 3D view, she started crying and saying "I don't want my baby brother to be orange!!"

You and me both, girlfriend.

Aw. Isn't it cute how I thought my belly had "popped" back then.
Um, NO. 

My other favorite moment during this trimester was when one of AG's teachers at school asked her what she wanted to name her baby brother.  Her response?

Lucifer.

After I stopped dying, I reassured the teacher that we had just read Cinderella, in which the cat is named Lucifer.  I mean, clearly she doesn't think her baby brother is the devil.

Yet.

And there we go: genuine pop-age has now occurred.  

Third Trimester:

Weight Gain: With the way I've been eating, it's probably somewhere around a gazillionty pounds by now.

Cravings:  Sweet tea and Halloween candy.  The other night, John and I were at the grocery store, and I informed him that it was time to stock up on Halloween candy.  You know, for the children.  He picks up this weenie bag with only 85 pieces, and was all, this should do it.

Hahahahaha, he's so adorable.

(We may or may not have had to purchase more candy last night.  I can't remember.)

Symptoms:  My heartburn is still super bad, so Tums should probably have been listed on my cravings list.  Because I eat more of those than anything else.  Also, why hasn't someone come up with a Twix-flavored Tum? I'm just sayin.

Another symptom I've been dealing with is The TIREDNESS.  I keep waiting for the same crazy burst of OCD/nesting energy that I got with AG, and I just haven't gotten there yet.

(Oh wait.  John just reassured me that I have, in fact, gone all "OCD crazy" again.  This time, instead of a "freakishly unhealthy obsession with stainless steel wipes," it's manifesting itself via "insane to-do lists" that I keep giving him.)

(Again, isn't he adorable?)


Currently, I'm (almost) 29 weeks, re-reading Babywise like a BOSS, and trying to cram in as many trashy tv shows as possible between now and January 25th. Because, well, priorities.

I'm also trying diligently to Instagram outfits that still make me look like a wardrobe stylist and not like a pregnant bag lady.

Which is about as easy as trying to discipline this sassy 4 year old.

She is NUTS, y'all.  In the best way possible.  

Mother's Day Gift Guide

John knows that for every gifting occasion, he will almost certainly receive an extremely, ahem, helpful list of gift ideas from a certain someone.  It's not that I don't trust him to pick out something himself, it's just that I like to be a control freak help him efficiently organize his search.

I'm sure he finds this both darling and adorable.

(Or at the very least, predictable.)

Also?  #firstworldproblems

I know.

Today, I'm posting a list of my top Mother's Day Gift Ideas, over on the Edit blog.

Husbands, you're welcome.

The Fashion Wars

The other day, I asked Ally Grace if she knows what I do for work.

(And NO, she did NOT say, "watch Downton Abbey and eat mint M&M's like it's your job.")

(Although I'm pretty sure I'd kill at that.)

To answer my question, she very sweetly and adorably says, "Mommy, you help people figure out what to wear with their shirts." And I was all, well, actually....yes. You're right. And then, in a clever attempt at early brainwashing, I said, "see, mommy knows what she's talking about.....I will always dress you cute, so you will NEVER want to argue with me about your outfits."  Right? RIGHT?!?!

Wrong.

Cut to the other morning, when I am trying to shove her leg into a (fantastic) pair of cherry red skinny jeans. Paired with a gray, yellow, and red floral top, this outfit is so cute, that I may or may not have tried to shove my own leg into those jeans first.  Just in case.

(Which, um, NO.)

This moment kicked off Fashion War #1:

Me:  AG, let's put on your jeans (while grabbing jeans and a shirt out of her closet at the speed of light, because, did I mention that we're very late for school?).

AG:  EWWWWWWWWWWW!  Mommy, NOOOOOOOOO!  There's YELLOW on that shirt!!!!!!
(Spoken as if "yellow" is synonymous for "poo poo.")

Me:  But the yellow is so pretty!  Look, my shirt is yellow!  Don't you like my shirt?!

AG:  NO.

Me:  (Thinking fast) Um......but I hear Jackson downstairs, and he's saying "Ally Grace, I love your shirt!  Wear it down here so I can see it!"

Because dogs definitely always talk when their owners are having power struggles with their 3 year old. Clearly.

AG: (With a look of disbelief, accompanied by what may or may not have been an eye roll)  Jackson!  MY shirt is ugly, Jackson!  I HATE THIS OUTFIT, JACKSON!!!

Me:  Mama might need a drink now, Jackson.

Fashion War #2:
Recently, John got to "take clients" to the Masters "for work."  Also, yes.  I totally used air quotes every time he referred to this as "work." I'm sure he found it adorable.

Anyway, he brought home a little pink polo with the Masters logo on it for AG.  And it was as if he had given her an lifetime supply of fruit snacks, popsicles, and flashlights, all rolled up into a polo shirt.  Saying she's kind of obsessed, is like saying that the Real Housewives kind of disagree sometimes.

She wants to wear it EVERYWHERE.  And she has, um, some interesting ideas about what to wear with it.

Paired with a leopard print belt, purple sneakers, and the toddler mullet?
Bold choice, AG. Bold choice.

Fashion War #3:

All I can say about this one, is this: there was a winner.  And there was a loser.  I'll let you guess which title I claimed.

We managed to incorporate PJ's, high-waters, AND purple sneaks for a daytime playdate.   

In other words, a perfect trifecta of fashion "don'ts."

So, mothers of daughters, is this what I have to look forward to?  Years of arguing about clothes?

Excuse me, Jackson?.  I'm gonna need that drink now.