Caaaaaaake.........

Chad's grandmother baked this really delicious cake today. She gave us half of it. That's not the bad part. She homemade delicious chocolate syrup to pour all over the cake. WHY must I be tortured? My appetite has come back and I am holding back on NOTHING sweet. And I mean NOTHING. Last week all I wanted was salt. Now I want chocolate. I've still got SEVEN months to go....... I spent nine months last year making sure my abs were perfectly perfect. Now it just looks like I've had too much cake. *sigh* The things us women go through.....

My letter to Cupid

Dear Mr. Cupid,

Some people think Valentine's Day is just another way for Hallmark and Russell Stover to get all of our money. But, I don't think that's true. Those are the same "Bah-humbugs" that don't believe in Santa Claus. I'm writing to you because I do believe. I really do.

So this is what I'm asking for Valentine's Day: Not a big box of chocolates, although that would be a nice addition since I have an extra large sweet tooth these days. Not flowers, they just smell like a funeral home and die. What I am asking of you is to bring me a hubcap for my car. It's a simple request really. After all, I am carrying my husband's child and still have a long way to go, so I think that would be sufficient enough. I am asking because I feel like I am the laughingstock of Highway 49. Oh, wait. Scratch that. I DO live in Rankin County, after all. But, my car just feels naked. It needs to be clothed again. My car has really gotten the blues over this. When all of my neighbor's SUV's and trucks and minivans pull out of their driveways my car cowers in shame. Let's make it right for my car again. It's not too much to ask, is it?

Thank you, Mr. Cupid, for your time.

Sincerely yours,

Mandy

What a difference a pound makes...

So, after I had dinner with my sweet friend, Debbie, last night, I decided to go in a couple of stores that carry maternity clothes. NOT that I need them at this point, mind you, but I just thought buying a little here and there when I can catch some sales would save me a little money in the long run. If I'm going to be big and fat, I at least want to be big, fat, and somewhat cute. In case you don't know this about me I will let you in on this shocking secret (not really): I HATE clothes! Not really hate as in I'd rather be an exhibitionist and walk around in my birthday suit all the time, but hate as in I hate trying to buy clothes because it totally stresses me out. I, like a lot of people, am on a tight budget. I spend what little "free" money we have dressing my son, and sometimes my husband. THEY are the better dressed out of the three of us. If I had lots of extra money to burn, then I wouldn't get so stressed out. But, when the budget is limited, well, I feel pressured to make decisions and I am NOT a good decision maker. Just give me a t-shirt and some windbreaker pants and I'm a happy woman. I can't pick out a shirt, for example, because then I have no pants or shoes at home to match. Well, then that just goes and opens up another whole can of worms.

And I guess I said all that to say this: maternity shopping is no different. It's worse!!!! You're holding up things that are twice your normal size, thinking, "OH MY GOODNESS!!!! I'm going to be able to fit in THAT! In just a few months." Beach whale. Then I'm trying to figure out which tops will go with what pants and do I have any shoes at home that I can wear with this when my feet and ankles get really swollen and that won't make them hang out of the shoes like I outgrew them when I was twelve? My summer shoes are all very strappy little numbers and by August my toes are going to look like little sausages. And my ankles? Try cankles. Ankles will no longer exist on my body by August. Possible July. (Marie, I might have to go incognito to your wedding.) Am I painting a pretty picture here? They even had bathing suits on sale in one of the stores, but I'm not even going to go there! I refuse. Fortunately I've learned a few things since my last pregnancy 4 years ago. Like never drink WHOLE milk a gallon at a time in just a matter of a day and a half. No matter how bad you crave that cinnamon pop-tart, it's NOT worth it. Your thighs will thank you in the end, after you've given birth and you try to put on your regular pre-pregnancy clothes. After training for a marathon, I do believe I have better habits of eating and we no longer buy whole milk. When the weather becomes more steady and the days grow longer, I plan on getting my exercise routine shaking up again. I've been taking a break for a month now. It's time to get back on the wagon. So maybe my toes won't look like little sausages until September.....

Brennan's Valentine

I must share this story:

Brennan's been unusually quiet this morning. He's been sitting in the living room floor playing with some Valentine stickers my mom brought over yesterday when she kept him. So, he has a sheet of red hearts that he is, innocently enough, sticking all over his cars and trucks. I sat down by him and hugged him and told him how sweet he was being. As he went to take another heart off of it's page, it tore. Apparently that was the second or third heart to tear as he was removing it. He just looks up at me with his big eyes and says, "Uh-oh, Mama. I broke another heart. See? Look, I broke another heart".

*Sigh* Only 3 and he's already breaking hearts.....

Skeletons in my closet....

It's 9:10 a.m. Already this morning I have started the dishwasher, washed the bathroom rugs, swept and mopped the kitchen and bathrooms, vacuumed the entire house, and made Brennan pick up the toys that he was not playing with. I am worried about myself ever so slightly. I think I have a tinge of OCD. I know everyone does to a certain point with at least one thing in their lives, but I not only am obsessed about washing my hands constantly, ESPECIALLY at work, but I am obsessed about having a spotless house 24 hours a day. It's not possible. I have a 3 1/2 year old. A boy. When I think about adding another child into this equation I totally get stressed out. I feel like the only way to solve this problem is to move into a 6,000 square foot house and hire a live-in maid. BUT, well, unless we win the lottery that won't happen in this life.

But, what makes this whole OCD issue so laughable is my closet. UN-BELIEVABLE. Chad and I have our own closets that are quite a decent size. They're so big that I even mentioned to Chad when we first moved in that we could share a closet and turn one into a little office. They have built in shelves and everything. There is no want for any more space in one closet. It's RIDICULOUS!!! Well, after living in this house for almost 3 years, my closet is so full that you can't even open the door all the way. Clothes are EVERYWHERE. Shoes are EVERYWHERE. The sad part is, I never have anything to wear and no shoes to match. My shelves don't exist anymore. Just clothes hanging off in what looks to be one big random ceiling-high pile. My scrubs for work are thrown in a basket in a corner. My laundry basket is beside it. It is no longer a walk-in, sit-down-on-the-couch-and-have-a-cup-of-coffee sized closet. (By the way, I don't have a couch OR a coffee maker in my closet, in case you were wondering). I've decided that it's got to be something psychological. When you enter Chad's closet it looks like it's been professionally organized. Shoes with the matching partner, clothes folded neatly (I put those clothes where they belong, by the way), clothes hanging with whatever group they belong to. Pants with pants, dress shirts with dress shirts, etc, etc, you get the idea.

Back to the psychological theory. I've decided it must be the only part of my life that no one ever sees, so I allow it to be so messy. But here I am blogging about it. Who knows, maybe now that I've admitted living is such chaos, I will be motivated to clean the junk out. But, chances are, probably not.

About chaos... another thing I can't handle in my life. I like everything to run smooth and things to be calm and quiet and just neat. Which takes me back to my closet. I get stressed out every time I have to find something other than a pair of jeans. Even my jeans tend to get swallowed up in the chaos that is my closet. Yikes. Should I see a therapist for this?

Queasy Does It.......

I can officially tell you my good news.... I am pregnant. Seven weeks to be exact. Now I can openly blog about the joy (and not so joyous) moments of pregnancy. Like being nauseated half the day. And then finally being able to eat and feeling nauseated after eating AND having heartburn.

Sonogram was done today. Baby had a good, strong heartbeat and so far everything looked good. Now we have to wait 13 more long, torturous weeks to find out the sex of the baby. NOT that it really matters. We just want a healthy, strong baby. But still.......

I was not expecting to get pregnant this fast. We weren't even trying when I conceived. I guess I forgot how easily I got pregnant with Brennan.

So that's it.... my EXCITING news! Keep me in your prayers and I will certainly keep you posted on my blog!

NEW KIDS ON THE BLOCK!!!!

I didn't believe my friend, Kristy, when she said New Kids on the Block were going on tour again.... alas....it's true. *sigh* Memories....

Anyone want to camp out for concert tickets?

http://www.nkotb.com