Pregnancy Brain

I have never had a respectable memory…  When I meet someone new, there is a good chance that I have forgotten their name less than 1 minute after the initial introduction.  Because of this, I am a slave to lists simply so I know that I have completed everything that needs to be done and not let anything fall to the pit of my worthless memory.  As pregnancy takes its hard grip on my body, it has also begun its conquest of my brain as well, leaving me feeling like I have the memory of the baby that I am soon to have.


I seriously feel like I can’t remember anything anymore unless it is written down. Even then, I often look at what I have written down with a completely blank stare wondering why the hell I wrote down what I did.  And my mind trails off in completely different directions faster than a bunny being chased by a fox.  I have given improper instructions to co-workers, forgotten to pack items I needed for the day, and almost every day I have to question whether or not I have already taken my pre-natal vitamins (most of the time I assume I have already taken them, even though I honestly have absolutely no idea).  But the strangest thing is that I am 100% forgiven for all the idiotic mistakes I have made based on my developing pregnancy Alzheimer’s.  Even when I sent my maintenance tech at work to the completely wrong apartment to fix a leaking shower, I was exonerated without question.  Its like I have gained a total immunity to every stupid mistaken I make, regardless of the impact it has made to others around me. 


I love being able to get away with almost anything and without even saying a word, people attribute my errors to the pregnancy.  It’s like having a free hall pass to say and do the things you have always wanted to, but knew you never could.  Like the other day I had left-over cookies from a party, and I ate three of those bad boys before 10 AM.  If I hadn’t been pregnant, the comments of my overzealous appetite for these delicious sweets would have obviously brought on a plethora of negative comments.  But since I’m with child, I’m off limits to any sort of comment on my unhealthy eating habits.  Even if I decided to dress ala Kim Kardashian pregnancy style (aka- wear extremely inappropriate attire for my growing body), no one would ever say a word, which is why she did it I bet.  Or why Jessica Simpson let it be known that she buttered her pop tarts.  No one will ever comment on what a pregnant woman eats, at least not to her face.  Which make me think if anyone commented on my cookie-eating binge behind my back… I hope not, that would hurt my feelings, and I’m overly emotional right now, due to the hormones.


I realize that I have once again gone off topic, but as is the way with pregnancy brain.  My only hope is that after Harper makes her grand arrival, my brain will go back to being just partially incapable of remembering anything, and I hope I don’t forget things that are important as a mother, like bathing her or feeding her!  I’ve actually had nightmares about forgetting to feed her.  I’ve also had nightmares about a giant war with elephants, but that’s a story for a different blog.





Waddle It Be?

Pinterest has changed my life since I discovered it 2 years ago.  If I had known of its existence while I was planning my wedding, I can only imagine how different everything would have turned out.  Since I didn’t have it then, however, I have more than made up for it in my party gatherings since.  Obviously when I found out I was pregnant, Pinterest was my go-to source of cute, informative, and creative ideas for my pending motherhood.  And this is where the idea of the Gender Reveal Party came into play.  What a great way to share the discovery of the gender of our first child with our closest family and friends!  Plus, this would give me such an awesome platform to throw a Pinterest party!  Thus the “Waddle It Be?” party was born.


Our idea was a tried and true one… the gender reveal cake.   The doctor would write the gender of the baby on a piece of paper, seal it in an envelope, and we would immediately deliver this huge secret envelope to the bakery.  They then would dye the inside of a heavily frosted cake either pink or blue and we would get to discover the sex of our baby alongside the guests at the party.  My husband and I had decided on the names for both a boy and girl, so this was also our opportunity to share the official name with everyone.   


I was completely fine with either a girl or boy.  Being one of three girls, I have never grown up around boys, and loved the idea of building a pro athlete.  Dressing him up in cute bowties, mini suits, and fake mustaches. I also loved the idea of having a little girl and dressing her up in adorable outfits, having princesses everywhere, future proms, and making sure she attended a college with my sorority.  My husband is the middle child of three boys, and so all he has ever know is boys, so the idea of a girl scared him a little, but he welcomed either gender, and just simply wanted to know.


The party was complete with duckies, pink and blue items galore, and tons of food, all ideas courtesy of Pinterest.  We had guests guess what they thought the names would be, and everyone wore either pink or blue based on what they thought baby S was.  And then it was time to cut the cake.


Baby S is a girl!!!  Harper Rita Strickland will be joining our household this December, and we could not be more excited!  My husband may be a bit terrified of the unknown “fairer” sex, but I just know this little princess is going to be the biggest daddy’s girl this world has ever seen.  Let the planning begin!ImageImage






Old Wives Tales

waddle it be

We find out the sex of Baby S this week, and I’m literally about to pee my pants with excitement (or it could be because I’m pregnant and have to pee every 5 minutes, but either way I have to pee). I cannot wait to start decorating the nursery, buying up incredible amounts of overly cute, insanely overpriced items from (if you have not discovered Etsy, you absolutely MUST take a peek, and I even figured out that I could register there!), and finally being able to put a name to the invader in my tummy. It completely boggles my mind how anyone would ever have the self control to wait until birth to find out the gender of their child, because I’m pretty sure this would cause the most anxiety possible in my life and I would be ripping out my hair every moment of every day. I mean, how would I know what to buy, how to decorate, or if I needed to prepare for things like dance recitals or footballs games? Apparently I am just an extreme version of an over-planner, and must have everything laid out and completely organized in order to feel secure with any situation I find myself in, including pregnancy and motherhood. So obviously I have scoured the internet for any clues to what the sex of our baby will be before we get the official news this Saturday, and have come up with a list of some “old wives tales” used for generations. I thought I would share some of the best ones with you, and in a few days we will be able to tell which ones were bogus or not!

Carrying high vs. low
First of all, what does this even mean? How do I know if I’m high or low? I feel huge everywhere. And after I eat I’m pretty sure my tummy moves all over the place, so it could be considered both high and low. Maybe this means I’m having a transgendered baby. So point goes to transgender.

Heart Rate
They say that if your baby’s heart rate is over 140 beats per minute that you are having a girl, and under would be a boy. I’m a runner, and I expect that a resting heart rate should always be as low as possible, so when I find out that the baby’s heart rate is 151 and 144 (respectfully at each ultrasound), and even though I know this is 100% fine and normal, I am bothered that the child has not developed the cardiovascular stamina of its mother. But regardless, point goes to girl.

Sweet vs. Sour
The rumor goes that if you crave sweets more than salty or sour things then you are destined to have a girl. Well I have officially eaten more Dairy Queen in the past 3 months then I have in the past 3 years, and slowly but surely I have stopped eating as much of my dinner every night in order to ensure enough room in my belly to stuff my face with fruit snacks or chocolate or ice cream or berries or pretty much anything sweet. Point- Girl

If you are having a girl, it is said that you will break out more and your skin will be flawed because this little growing lady is “stealing your beauty”. Well if this is in fact true, this tiny munchkin is stealing everything I got, because I look like a teenage boy who works at McDonalds next to the fry machine. If this predictor is true, then I will have to have a serious discussion with little girl about how it’s not nice to make mommy look like shit. Point-girl.

Morning Sickness
If you have been reading this blog, it is no secret that morning sickness destroyed me the first few months. This is apparently a sure fire sign that the baby causing the agony is a girl. So it appears that a girl not only steals your beauty, but also is the culprit behind the worst aspect of pregnancy. Really, we will have to have a discussion as soon as possible so that it is blatantly clear that it is just not nice to ruin mommy’s life. Point-girl

Sympathy Weight
Husbands can throw themselves into the eating frenzy just as much as their pregnant wives, and sometimes end up eating substantially more than their preggy counterparts. If I could guess why this is it would be because pregnant wife has the eye of a 500 lbs obese person, but ends up getting full super fast due to a baby pressing against all of her stomach region, and therefore hubby must step in and eat the leftovers. So if hubby does end up falling to this curse of placebo pregnancy, then it is said baby will be a girl. My man, however, has stood tall against the cravings and the leftovers, and has not gained weight. Point- boy.

This is just a short list of some “old wives tales”, but they are all tending to lean the same way. If they end up being true (including the 50 other predictors that I found on the internet that I failed to mention on this blog), it looks like Baby S will be a bouncing baby girl. All will be discovered soon enough at our gender reveal, and I can’t wait to share the official news with all of you as well as the name that our babe will have! On another note, here is a photo of me getting my baby fix on with a new addition to our world gifted to us by my beautiful former co-worker just a few weeks ago!


The Trusty To-Do List

As I approach the halfway point of my pregnancy, the reality of this entire situation is dawning on both my husband and I, and we are beginning to realize how much there is left to accomplish in order to be prepared for this new family member.  We are actually going to be parents in a few short months, and I have got to start figuring out some very important items on my to-do list!  We will be finding out the gender of our baby next week, which mean that soon we can start decorating the nursery, buying insane amounts of clothing (I discovered that TOMs makes a tiny TOM shoe!  I mean, OBVI!!!), and pretty much spend all the money I have saved up to this point in one huge shopping trip.  Needless to say, this might be an extremely spoiled child.  But there are some details that have been at the forefront of my mind for a while that need some serious addressing. 


To start, coming up with a name for this new baby was a very stressful but fun duty for my husband and I.  We have officially decided on both a girls and boys name for this bundle, but have been and will continue to keep it under wraps until we find out the sex.  The main reason behind this secretive decision is the negativity that people bring to the table, even if they don’t mean to.  Everyone has a friend of a friend who dated a “Brad” and he was a total douche, or knew a girl named “Tracy” in high school who was the biggest slut ever.  Whatever name you pick, someone knows someone with that name who was a terrible person, and they feel it their mandatory duty to share this information with you.  News flash, I just told you a possible name of my future child, and you took a knife to it and slashed it into a million little pieces.  This is not “need to know” information.  The weirdest part is that even though we will be keeping it a secret until we know the sex and the name is 100% official, so many people still chime in with “well just as long as the name isn’t ‘Dawn’ because I hated this girl Dawn and she was a drug addict stripper”.  I’m just hoping that once the name is set in stone, people don’t feel the need to share their horror stories anymore.  Even if you don’t like the names, this is a very appropriate time to lie your ass off and say how amazing you think they are anyway. 


My next looming task is building my Mommy Wine Club (currently accepting members!).  We have definitely exited the years of a million weddings and entered a tunnel of babies and houses and early nights. It seems that all those weddings we attended in the past few years are now producing children like weeds!  And I can’t wait to have play dates and long stroller walks and mommy’s night out while our husbands’ act like the men in “What to Expect”.  The desire to have this close group of mommy friends has even brought on the thought of selling my house so I can move closer to my friends.  I know I’m way too obsessed with my neighborhood to ever actually leave it, so I guess I am left with the undertaking of actually introducing myself to others in the neighborhood (a task I have put off for a year and a half).  I genuinely thought about joining a prenatal yoga studio down the street (even though I loathe yoga) just simply so I could make friends with the other future mommies!  But I would much prefer that people start moving to my neck of the woods so that I can continue to be oddly anti-social with my neighbors and still have my Mommy Wine Club.  The house next door is for sale… just sayin.


Finally, the dump yard of a space that will be the future nursery of our child is in desperate need of some TLC.  I’m not positive at what time my husband and I decided to throw every random item we could collect into that room, but I am starting to doubt that this pigsty could ever be transformed into a viable, safe and adorable nursery.  As soon as we find out the gender of Baby S, I plan on embarking on a full overhaul of this space, and hopefully turning it into something that wouldn’t be condemned by the health department (okay, maybe it’s not that bad).  Perhaps the producers at HGTV will read this blog and feel inclined to have a show on how to turn a trash pit into an amazing nursery, and I can be their pilot episode.  I’ll hold onto that hope…


Overall, I still have over half this pregnancy to go, but time seems to be speeding by.  I will be entrusting my handy “to-do” lists to guide me to the happy place where every mother hopes to be… completely ready for baby!  Although, can you ever be completely ready? 



He Without Sin…

There are so many rules associated with pregnancy.  You can’t eat this, you can’t do that, you can’t drink this, you can’t use that.  The restrictions are debilitating.  At my first doctors appointment they asked if I had any questions, and my main question was “what AM I allowed to do now a days”?  Lucky for me, we hit the jackpot with the daddy of all hippie doctors.  He is pretty much the most laid back, laissez faire doctor ever and I love it.  Sushi?  Why not (as long as it’s fresh, and why would you want to eat old sushi even if you weren’t pregnant?)!  Deli meat?  Go for it!  And my favorite of all the suggestions… go for that glass of wine if you want to!  These simple allowances have made my life so much more bearable these past few months, and I know they will help get me to the finish line with some of my sanity still in tack.


There certainly isn’t a shortage of people who are on board with this less cautious mentality.  I mean, people were having healthy, happy children for thousands of years without the knowledge that sleeping on your right side isn’t as safe as sleeping on your left or that Proactive face wash is dangerous.  But the peanut gallery who doesn’t agree with this lifestyle makes damn well sure I am aware of their opinion and do everything they can to press their beliefs onto me.  I am all for each women making their own decisions on their lives and their pregnancy.  If you can make it 9 months without a slice of turkey, or a buffet dinner, or sip of alcohol, then that’s absolutely awesome for you.  Of course, there is also that group of women who throw caution to the wind and drink and smoke their way to a cheerful child (although I’m sure most doctors are against this method of personalizing your pregnancy).  I’m pretty positive that’s not the path for me, but who am I to judge anyone else’s life decisions?  And that’s the point… unless you have lived your life to the tune of absolute perfection, then I don’t think you have the right to judge the decision that any other women makes in their life.  You know what they say: “he without sin may cast the first stone”. 


I cannot express how frustrating it is to me to hear how I’m wrong about the choices I make.  I stayed out at the bar with a friend from out of town until 1 AM last week (and was SO proud of myself for being the “cool” sober driver), but yet the drunken hoards at the bar looked at me like I was Satin himself just because I have a baby belly.  I wasn’t aware that being pregnant meant I needed to lock myself up in a dark cushioned room where no harm can be done to my baby or me for all 9 months and to completely forget about my own life.  The absolute worst remarks I get are the ones on my one glass of wine a week.  I’m sorry, but there are tons of published medical journals out there right this very moment stating that one glass of wine A DAY is fine, so what gives anyone the right to say my one glass a week will doom my future child to a life of despair?  My only hope for our baby is that it is born healthy and happy, and I know in my heart of hearts that my minor slips on the stringent laws of pregnancy aren’t the be all end all to the well-being of my child.  Thankfully, I have a lot of people on my side on this matter (including my awesome hippy doctor and my wonderful husband), and they have made dealing with the negativity so much more bearable.


I don’t know why the comments bother me so much, because I used to just give naysayers the bird and move on with my life.  I can certainly tell that pregnancy is causing my emotions to go a bit haywire, so hopefully they will calm down a bit (but I doubt it).  In the mean time, I am just going to continue to keep on keepin on, and know that I’m doing the best that I can.  I hope all women are afforded the opportunity to enjoy pregnancy in their own way, and I thank you all for letting me share my gripe with you!  Now I’m going to go enjoy a nice dinner of rare steak and sushi (very fresh, of course).    


Here is my updated 17 week pregnancy photo and an awesome picture from the Rockies fireworks game!  Hope everyone had a great Fourth of July!







The Perks Of Pregnancy

Reading back thru some of my previous posts, it has come to my attention that I might be coming off as a bit “negative”.  Although I strongly stand by my opinions on how many aspects of pregnancy suck a big one, there are many things that have been awesome and have benefited me greatly.  For starters, I have grown up as the president of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee.  I had teeny tiny little things that I faked the hell out of for years with a wonderful invention called the Miraculous Bra.  Since this babe has taken over, my body has decided it was time to up the boobage.  I seriously feel like a teenage girl getting her boobs for the first time.  I have been bragging about them to anyone who would listen.  But there have been some other pretty sweet perks that have also come with this new job.


For starters, I have always been an advocate of chivalry.  I think that it is something that men should be brought up practicing at all times.  Unfortunately in today’s society many men disregard this “dated” practice and treat women like dirt.  No doors being held open, no standing when a woman enters the room, and no extension of assistance for simply things like carrying a heavy package.  I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ll be casually walking through a door only to have the person in front of me slam it in my face, and I damn well know they did it on purpose (ass).  I have just recently started looking more pregnant and not just like a chunk, and with that comes the royal treatment.  Never again do I need to do that epic juggle to open the door while carrying a 50-pound package.  I feel like a lady of the old world with how men have gone out of their way to assist me.  Today someone waited at least an entire minute to hold a door for me!  The funniest part of this portion of my pregnancy is that many people still can’t ask me if I’m pregnant or just getting really large around the middle, so they are either being nice out of shear pity of my extreme weight gain the middle region, or they actually care about my wellbeing as an expectant mother.  Either way it’s pretty fabulous, and I plan to pay it forward as much as I can.   


Another perk of pregnancy is my complete and utter ability to wolf down food like a ravenous monster without anyone saying a single word about it.  It’s like giving a 12 year old boy the keys to the candy shop.  I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want, and it has become a completely acceptable thing.  The other day I really just wanted Dairy Queen.   It was almost 9:00 PM (which is late in my house as my husband and I are pretty lame on the weekdays), therefore normally a trip to leave the house would be out of the question.  But when I mentioned wanting Dairy Queen, my husband immediately was at my beck and call.  I think he thought it was a “craving”, which I haven’t really had any of (ah, except the fruit snacks from Walmart, but I crave those all the time), and I certainly didn’t want to ruin my chance of scoring a strawberry sundae, so I let him believe what he wanted, and I got myself some creamy goodness.   It’s also awesome when the person next to me orders something that looks 5 times better than the crap I got, they are more than happy to share with me because they are helping “feed baby”. Little do they know the baby they are feeding eats next to nothing, and all that food is for my own selfish enjoyment.  Suckers. 


Finally, the greatest of all the perks thus far… leg and foot massages.  Ahhhhhh.  Who doesn’t love getting a good rub down?  I mean, the main purpose behind these massages are because I wear heels all day every day, and by the time I get home my feet and ankles feel like they have run a marathon in those bad boys.  But the silver lining to this is that I can always count on my wonderful hubby to squeeze the pain away.  And for some reason, these special pregnancy foot massages are 50 times better than any previous massage I have had in my life.  I have been starting to feel bad for my newly appointed masseuse, and decided that we need to take some of the money from Baby Fund and put it towards a ridiculously awesome calf and foot massager (it might be just a tad on the expensive side).  I am still currently in the convincing stage of winning the battle to spend our money on a massage machine, so wish me luck (although, lets be real, I’m going to win because I’m pregnant… yet another perk!)!


In short, I know that there are many things to complain about during this pregnancy adventure, but there are some pretty excellent perks as well.  As with any job, you gotta take the good with the bad in order to achieve that promotion.  In a few short months, I will be receiving that promotion: Baby Mama!



It costs HOW much???

I imagine that most new moms and dads want only the best for their brand new additions. New clothes, new furniture, new toys, the list goes on and on. New parents are pretty much an advertiser’s wet dream. There is something to buy for absolutely everything having to do with pregnancy and future baby, and according to them you better buy it all or else you will be a terrible mother and all others will shun you. But it also seems like the maternity and baby marketing teams have taken a page from the wedding playbook. If you can overcharge for something just simply because it says “maternity” or “baby” on it, then game on. It is an absolute mind-boggle to me how normal people with normal jobs and normal salaries are suppose to be able to afford “the best” for their little one. I mean, I want the good stuff, but at what cost? Then I got hit by the mother of all expenses… daycare.

I received my little daily tips on how to spend more money during pregnancy (I mean, it also included how big the baby is, tips on health, but mainly how to spend more money), and it mentioned that daycares tend to fill up fast for infant care. It suggested getting on a wait list now so that when we return back to work baby will be all set. So, like the sheep that I am, I rounded up my husband immediately and we headed to the local daycares in the area. Lots of women rocking babies, feeding babies, and changing babies. Seemed standard. They all talked about the curriculum that the baby would be taught, and I keep thinking, you mean how to sleep, poop, roll over, and eat more efficiently? Sweet, because that baby better be on point when it comes to that. They talked about sign language, and I realized that if they taught my infant sign language then I would be forced to learn it also (I mean, right? How many people know sign language? Do I really want my newborn being smarter than me??). Everything seemed to fit the expectation of what I thought an infant daycare would be like. And then they drop the bomb. I’m sorry, but when did it become acceptable for people to pay more in daycare than their mortgage?? All I kept thinking was, “so I could double the size of my house… or I could pay you to clean a diaper and teach my child to be a baby Einstein”. Yes yes I know they do more than that, but you couldn’t have paid me to believe it at the time. I went into complete shell shock. I think I knew it was going to be expensive, but had no idea the true realization of the matter. All the daycares were the same, and all were going to cost me every trip I had planned, every meal I would ever want to eat, and every piece of clothing I ever hoped to buy. I would have to breastfeed baby until it became socially awkward just to save some money on formula and put it towards daycare!
Much like the loss of a family member (or a trip to Rio, but whatever), I entered the 7 Stages of Greif. First, shock and disbelief. Obviously I was an air headed idiot who thought daycare was free, and it was a punch in the gut to find out that in fact, no, it’s gonna cost ya. Next came denial. I started telling myself I was just looking at the wrong places, and somewhere out there was some Mary Poppins miracle worker who was willing to watch my child for just a yummy meal and a jolly sing-a-long. Anger came next, and my husband got the brunt of that wrath. My bad (and I’m sorry honey, I love you!). Up next was bargaining. Maybe my boss would give me a raise on the sheer basis of preventing me from going on the frat boy diet of ramen and canned soup? Or maybe if the daycare saw how adorable this baby was, they would obviously take them on for free, or at least cut my tuition on half, right? Guilt followed shortly after when I actually considered sending my first born child to the day care that had spiders on the wall and metal cribs that looked like a baby jail simply because it was a few hundred less than the “crème de la crème”. I went into depression abruptly after. I couldn’t get over the fact that I just didn’t know if I could provide a good life for this baby knowing the cost, and that I was obviously going to be the mother who clothed her child in potato sacks. I am now starting to enter the final stage, acceptance and hope. I “hope” that the tuition goes down. I am “accepting” that that won’t happen, and I am just going to have to suck it up and pay The Man. I want the best for our child, and I will come to terms with the fact that it will cost me and arm and a leg, but I am sure it will be worth it. Mainly because all my mommy friends keep telling me its worth it. At least I have 8 more months to finish the acceptance and hope stage, because I am going to need it.

On a side note, I did the color run this past weekend with some friends, and it was SUCH a blast! If you have the chance to run this race, I 100% recommend it! I made a cute shirt for the occasion that read “Sweatin for 2”. I decided I am going to try to make a funny shirt for all my races this summer that will spell out to all other racers that I am pregnant, not fat. Enjoy some pics from the event!

pic #1

pic #2