Well, well, well…what do we have here?

Dear Blog,

It’s me, Anne. You know, the one that used to post semi-regularly on this site. Yes, I know…long time no talk. I’ve been a bit busy. You know…creating human life, birthing him for TWENTY NINE hours, and now raising him into an upstanding member of society. No big deal.

Per elementary school style punishment, I will write 5 times on the chalkboard how I intend to rectify my actions:

I promise to resume regular posts again.
I promise to resume regular posts again.
I promise to resume regular posts again.
I promise to resume regular posts again.
I promise to resume regular posts again.

And let’s be honest…mostly I’ve been too busy dodging puke and pee. I swear this child ‘o mine just waits until I open his diaper to unleash the beast. Where’s a pee-pee-tee-pee when you need one?!

Just 9 days old here

My hand is bigger than his entire torso.  :)

Mastering the art of sitting up in his Bumbo.

Tummy time!

There's the gummy smile that melts my heart.  :)

Please accept these pictures of my work from the last 4 months as a token of my sincere apologies. Cheers!

~as

Hodge Podge

This post is a compilation of an assortment of random topics. Just think of it like that mixed cassette tape you made back in 5th grade. You just NEVER know what might be coming next.

That leads me to my first thought: Is there a limit of cookies to which one can consume in a day? Not if you’re eight and a half months pregnant and your name is Anne Stefl. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my middle name was High Fructose Corn Syrup.

Here's the skinny: I always get all Boyz to Men-style weak in the knees around sweets on an average day, but I swear – I’ve lost all sense of willpower these days. That brings me to today.  I brought in some cookies for my last day of work before I start my maternity leave tomorrow (yippee!!). Bad part? I think I took down more than the rest of my co-workers combined.

Okay, that might be a small exaggeration, but if my child comes out hairy and blue and is frantically searching for a cookie, I guess I know I had one too many and only have myself to blame.

Speaking of the cookie monster, I think the goodies are making their way to him right now…his activity level has really kicked up a notch or twelve. Hey, I don’t blame him. He’s probably all like, “DAMN WOMAN! Chill out with all the sweets. Shoooot.” And I picture him saying all that like the eTrade babies that talk on those commercials. Milk-a-what?!?!?!

Oh and while we’re talking about work and colleagues (well, we were talking about work and colleagues until I got on a tangent about the baby – crap, here I go again!)…they got me again, you guys!! Make the madness stop. Just kidding because I really loved it, but they threw a SECOND surprise baby shower for Eric and I at work last week! This time thankfully I didn’t have quite the same awesomely embarrassing deer in headlights look, but I’m sure I was sporting something equally as scary. We seriously have some of the best co-workers EVER. I just dare you to say your co-workers are better. I double dog dare you.

Next thought…ahhh, the good old bee’s nest that was getting cozy on our front porch. Remember the malicious war that was waged against us that resulted in me getting stung?! (AKA the time Anne swatted at the bee and got too close to their hive so she got stung)

We retaliated. And it was awesome.

One can of wasp spray later: Anne & Eric: 1, Bees: 0

Oh, and last but not least, let me know if anyone has any good book suggestions to keep me occupied for the next two weeks.  I'm in the market for something light and easy to keep my mind and eyes off the clock.  Ahh, the lovely waiting game. 

~as

(Re)Learned life lesson

Oh, it’s never a dull day with me lately. My recently (re)learned life lesson? Don’t swat at bees.

Over this past 4th of July holiday weekend, I was minding my own beeswax - pun TOTALLY intended – drinking a cup of coffee while sitting on our front porch.
Enter Mr. Bee.

This little bugger kept buzzing all around me and got much too close for comfort, so against my better judgment, I swatted at him when I realized he had no intention of leaving my area. This is MY porch, Mr. Bee!

As you can imagine, he was having none of it. My swatting had no effect. Go figure. I had to evacuate the premises.

Upon leaving my comfy Adirondack chair (that Eric built for us…what a little handy woodworker he is!), I noticed Mr. Bee went directly to a specific spot on the chair in between two slats of wood and didn’t emerge from that spot for longer than I would’ve expected. You know, because I’m such an expert on knowing the habits of bees and all.

Well, given my innate nosiness…err, I mean curiosity, I went to peep the scene.
I couldn’t believe it. Directly below where my left leg had just been relaxing to the max was a small beehive bee-ing (haha) built! Eric, who was also sitting on the porch next to me in his own chair, just HAD to know about this.

As I’m telling him what I just discovered, I thought it would be cool to also SHOW him by flipping over the chair.

Uh oh. Bad Anne. NOT A GOOD IDEA.

As I’m flipping over the chair for show-and-tell hour at the Stefl Household, I spot at least two bees, and they are not pleased I’m literally turning their world upside down. One of them makes a beeline (haha, this never gets old) for my left foot and stings my big toe. Lovely.

For Pete’s sake. I haven’t had a bee sting since my very first one when I was 7 years old!

Now, who knows if my earlier swatting at the bee is what caused him to retaliate with such ruthless maliciousness or if he would’ve came after me anyway, but I’m guessing it probably didn’t help. Oops. (And for the record, Eric did make a comment while I was doing the aforementioned swatting and noted it might not be the best idea, but that clearly didn’t stop me. Dang it.)

Needless to say, getting stung at 8 and ½ months pregnant didn’t make me happy. Poor Eric. I think it’s fair to say I’ve held it together emotionally for just about all of my pregnancy, but that little bee sting really did not sit well with me. I’m not gonna lie…a few tears were shed. And then I also poured one for my homies that have passed. Okay, so maybe that last part didn’t happen.

On this week’s to-do list? Stop at the hardware store for some beehive killer spray. And no, I will NOT be the one spraying the hive. Good luck with that, Eric. :)

~as

Blue Steel is sooo 2001

Derek Zoolander’s trademark “blue steel” look has got nothing on my “deer in headlights” look.

So yesterday at work I was just minding my P’s and Q’s. I had barely sucked down my mini pot of coffee (decaf…ugh!) before having to jet off to a regularly scheduled Monday morning meeting. No big deal. Business as usual.

That is…until I was asked after the meeting to accompany one of our senior level managers as he swung by another colleague’s office to discuss a project.

In hindsight, the details were very vague as to why I was needed for this discussion. But like I mentioned above, I can’t have caffeinated coffee these days, so the finer details of my mornings before I fully wake up aren’t always questioned thoroughly.  Sad, but true.

Anyway, we strolled past the colleague’s office and instead, headed towards a large conference room around the corner and proceeded to BARGE right in.

I was floored.

Who just barges into a closed conference room without so much as knocking?!? Certainly not a senior level manager that would know better! This is a professional place of work, people!

Heavens to Betsy. Picture my embarrassment as I see a room full of people staring back me. There WAS in fact a meeting going on that we just barged in on! 

Except that wasn’t the case...

It was a surprise.

Surprise baby shower, that is.

They got my good. Real good. Those sons of guns.

And the worst part is that it took the duration of all the above mental thinking and internal dialogue with myself before I actually figured out what the hell was going on.

And when the light bulb finally clicked on, I got the “holy-crap-deer-in-headlights-look” instantly. And like a little kid that still wasn’t 100% positive, I proceeded to point to myself, as if to physically ask “this is for me??”

Oh boy. And I’M going to be raising a child. Yikes. :)

When the crowd started to good-naturedly laugh at my complete naivety, I knew I had FINALLY hit the nail on the head and it was indeed a surprise baby shower. I was in shock. Being the control freak that I am, I haven’t had a surprise party in years!!

After putting 2 and 2 together, I quickly scanned the crowd looking for Eric (for those of you that don’t know - we work for the same company), but I didn’t see him.

Perfect.

That meant the little sneakers at work lured me to the conference room first and he must still be on his way. I was about to witness his deer in headlights moment. SCORE!

Except, you see, my husband is much more on the ball that I. Damn him. He figured it out the moment he walked into the room. Oh well, glad I could give the crowd a bit of a chuckle for all the hard work they did planning and preparing for the surprise. They successfully pulled off surprising both of us and held an amazing shower for us. We are extremely lucky to have such wonderful coworkers!

And a special thank you goes out to Jana and Natalie for heading up the planning. You guys are the best!!! :)

~as

So adorable I could eat these

Remember how a few months ago I started to teach myself to crochet? Feast your eyes on what I made!

*Thanks to Eric for the sweet, sweet pic!

PSYCH. (Yeah, I’m bringing it back.)

I wish I made these. My crochet venture went a little something like this:

I figured out a stitch technique that probably would’ve been enough to squeak out a blanket, but my interest level fizzled out faster than a sparkler on the 4th of July. End of story.

And really…it’s not my fault. I inherited this start-a-baby-blanket-yet-never-finish-it character flaw. My aunt started a baby blanket for my cousin while he was in the womb. He’s 29 years old now…and still waiting for his blanket. It's clearly her fault I am the way I am.

Thank goodness someone gifted us this adorable mint green hat and booties for me to claim as my own. Phew. I’m envisioning the photographic hay day we’re going to have with the homemade hat and booties I MADE once the baby gets here. Shut your mouth, Internet. Mind your own beeswax.

And here’s the other thing…we had our childbirth class not long ago. First off, talk about a real snoozer. Literally. I dozed off at one point. Oops. Eric will attest to this. But in my defense, it was a part of the class where even the nurse instructor said something about it being okay if she caught a sleeper during this part. After all, the lights were off, drapes were closed, we were on the ground with our pillows and blankets, and we were supposed to be practicing calming breathing techniques.

Ummm, DOES SHE KNOW ME AT ALL?!?!

I could fall asleep with a railroad train blaring next to me, let alone this cozy environment she spoon fed me. Totally her own fault. Good thing Eric nudged me and I jostled awake before she flicked the lights back on.

Oh, and what got me on this tangent (sorry ‘bout that!) was the thought that I’m not sure making a baby blanket is such a great idea anymore anyway. See? There’s always a reason why nothing is my fault. DUH.

This instructor - and all the other books and such I’ve been reading - have planted the fear of SIDS so firmly in my head that I’m going to be afraid to ever bring a blanket near the kid. He’ll likely live a life of chilliness, but he’ll be free and clear of SIDS, gosh darn it! And when he’s old enough to dial the phone with his numb and slightly blue-ish little fingers, he can call the instructor and ask what this thing called a “blanket” is that people talk about.

43 days to go! :)


~as

Get outta Dodge! A positive credit card company story?!?

Quite often credit card companies get a bad rap. Either it’s the high interest charges, late fees, or heart attack-like symptoms induced when cardholders open their monthly statements and realize just how much awesomeness they had throughout the previous month with their “magic card”.

And while I do tend to agree with the masses in thinking credit cards are the devil and their luring “buy now, pay later” logic has intrigued me one too many times in the past, I actually had a pleasant experience this past week to report. Crazy, right?!

So dig this. I used to abide by a strict Never Answer rule for numbers that popped up on my cell phone that I didn’t recognize. I’m not exactly sure who I thought might be on the other end….possibly some top secret CIA agent requesting my services and I just couldn’t be bothered during my reality TV shows? Or maybe it’s some killer/rapist giving me a heads up he’s headed over?

Either way, it’s a good thing I’ve relaxed a bit lately on that whole no answering business because I received a call late Friday afternoon from one of my credit card providers. In specific, the Fraud department. Uh oh.

Turns out some not-so-nice folks (aka ass faces) down in Tennessee under the fraudulent cover of some LLC Shoe Distributor group got their sticky little fingers on my credit card number and thought it’d be fun to charge $664 on my card. Wee!

I hope the TN’ers were at least wearing something sweet like this and had a giant cardboard replica of my credit card when they were stalking my account. I would *almost* be okay with it then. Almost.

All’s well that ends well, though. Despite this particular credit card company seeing PLENTY of shoe charges on my Visa over the years, even they knew $664 would be a bit extreme for me in one day. They denied the charge quicker than OJ denied the glove fit.

Props to the credit card company!! You guys have a pleased cardholder this week.

And while yes, I understand, this is part of their job and due diligence of being a reputable credit provider, I’m still happy. So sue me. I’m easy to please like that. “Bitches be crazy.” (~Leslie Knope, Parks and Rec)

~as

Backfire of epic proportions

Here we are…a mere two months from my due date and I get this grand idea. Well, in all honesty, it didn’t JUST come to me. I’ve been not-so-subtly hinting to Eric about it for months. And I have finally broken him down. And not a minute too soon since I have a feeling most house projects will come to a grinding halt once Little Buster Brown arrives.

We are finally updating our second bathroom! I’ve dreamt of this day, but thought it would never arrive. Here’s where things started to backfire, though…

Backfire #1: Mistakenly thinking I’d take on a supervisory role in the project due to being seven months pregnant. Not so much.

One might think I’d be on Easy Street for this renovation project.  They’d be wrong. Sitting on the couch eating bonbons = NOT on the agenda. Instead, I’ve been feverishly working to grout the new floor tile and paint the room a fresh pale blue color.

Not to fear for those thinking our baby was floating in an amniotic sac filled with paint fumes. We paid extra to get the low odor/VOC paint. No huffing for mom or baby this time around. Eric never lets us have any fun. ;)

The good news is that I’m just about done with both jobs…just have to do a few touchups and I’ll be able to mark these items off the proverbial checklist. And get this! I think I actually managed to pick out the correct paint color…the FIRST time around. It’s a Christmas miracle. As you all know, this usually isn’t the case. But considering this is the 3rd time I’ve painted this bathroom in the four years of owning our home, I’d say I’m about due. Here’s the color I went with to match the off white and gray tile and the gray granite countertop for the vanity. Here’s to hoping it all goes together like I think it will!

 
And as much as I get a kick out of people hassling Eric about me doing some of this physical work, I don’t mind helping. In fact, don’t tell Eric but I maybe, sort of, kinda like it. I like to be a part of the transformation and know I had a part in it. Shhh…don’t tell. Granted, having a big ‘ol belly in the mix makes things a bit more interesting and slows me down a bit, but I know my limits and know what I can and can’t do safely and both grouting and painting were A-OK. It’s never too early to instill a strong work ethic in the little guy, right?!

And trust me…Eric’s not sitting on the couch noshing on bonbons either. He’s got the MUCH harder and more physical jobs to do. Most of my work from here on out will consist of shopping for new accessories to match the newly updated bathroom. What’s that…I have to shop? Darn. How will I ever manage???

Backfire #2: Not accounting for the middle of the night trips to the bathroom…all the way on the first floor!

Yep…totally didn’t consider how being pregnant causes me to frequent the bathroom at least once, if not twice per night. Ugh. Usually I can sleepily stumble to the bathroom and get back before I even knew what happened, but now since I have to cross the second floor, go down the staircase, through the kitchen, and down the hallway to make it to the bathroom, I’m forced to wake up a bit more. Mainly because of the stairs involved. Where’s an in-home elevator when you need one?? Hmmm…potential next project, Eric?

Oh well…only about another week before Eric can install the toilet. Phew. My bladder can’t wait!

P.S. – Update on Baby Watch 2010 (like Storm Watch 12…hehe): 63 days to go!

~as

Holy gratitude, Batman!

This past Saturday marked my baby shower. And let me just say…WOW. Our friends and family really outdid themselves. I’m humbled by their generosity.

I hope they retain that quality for life. HA! ;)

Seriously, though, we received so many wonderful gifts. This little baby boy is loved by many. And it's official - he now has a larger wardrobe than both Eric and I put together. What a little stinker. Although...at the rate little ones pee through outfits, he’ll need a solid supply unless I want to set up camp next to the washer and dryer.  Umm, no thanks…I’m good. I will single-handedly keep infant clothing manufacturers in business solely to avoid that scenario.

I was totally stoked, too, because someone bought the one gift I registered for that I thought no one would have the guts to actually purchase…breast wipes. Hey, what can I say…I hear I’ll need them for nursing so I figured what the hell. I thought maybe there’d be a brave sole out there. And sure enough...my family, in all their crazy glory, did not disappoint.  And I can call them crazy because let's just say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree!  I think I, however, was the one most embarrassed when I pulled those bad boys out of the gift bag.  I CLEARLY failed to think through this plan. But really – what party is complete without a little embarrassment? Not any that I attend, that’s for sure. Ahh, good times.

Oh, and for those curious...I’ve now hit the 30 week mark. 70 days to go!

~as

What NOT to buy me...

...unless, of course, you are totally cool with the practice of re-gifting.

And I apologize in advance for those this may offend, but here goes.

I, Anne Stefl, promise to NEVER, EVER have one of those suction cup “Baby On Board” window hangs. Awful. Just awful.

What a colossal waste of money, not to mention it transforming your car into an instant soccer mom machine. I’m not sure what people are trying to accomplish with those bad boys.  And by bad I mean truly horrendous.

I’ll tell you what they won’t accomplish...

They will not make people care that you have a little one with you. It’s not their child, so why should they care? Do you also put up a “Snack Time” sign after you’ve driven through McDonald’s drive through for a quick indulgence? Over sharing happens enough on social networking forums such as Facebook. Let’s keep it there. ;)


Second, those signs noting your procreation success will NOT cause people to drive any differently. At least it doesn’t for me. If anything, it may cause me to drive worse since I’m so busy rolling my eyes are hardly as I can that I probably lose sight of the road for a second or so!

Okay, okay...I'll get off my soapbox now.  Happy Friday!

~as

Top 10 List Of Things I Look Forward To Come July 29, 2010

With my due date three months away (July 28th), I’m rounding the bend and have entered the third trimester. Yippie kay yay, mother-bleapers! Classic Bruce Willis.

Anyway, in some ways I can’t believe I’m already two-thirds of the way done with my first pregnancy. Yet at the same time…I can’t believe I’m ONLY two-thirds of the way done with my first pregnancy!!

In reflecting on all of this, I’ve come up with a "Top 10 List Of Things I Look Forward To Come July 29, 2010".

I look forward to:

10. being able to see the lower half of my body again without twisting like a contortionist.

9. being able to bend over (or even just bending forward to reach something!) comfortably.

8. being able to fit into my own pajama pants and stop borrowing Eric’s. It’s quite the sight, trust me.

7. being able to pee less frequently.  This will definitely result in a cost savings for us as well as I tend to overuse any paper products I get my hands on.  Conservationists would have their way with me if they knew. Shhh...

6. being able to sleep on my back again. Side sleeping ALL. NIGHT. LONG. is for the birds.

5. being able to stop watching the scale to make sure I’m gaining baby weight at the appropriate speed.  My OB has put the fear of God in me.  Truth.  She's practically got me thinking if I take that extra bite of cake, my child will suffer in the most gruesome of ways. 

4. being able to workout without having to monitor my heart rate.  Oh, and to bicycle without my knees knocking into my belly.  Awesome.

3. being able to eat seafood, select fish, and select cheeses again. 

2. being able to have a glass of red wine. Or two. Or three. Stop judging.

BUT…all of this I do without too much complaining because the numero uno thing I look forward to is…

1. being able to meet our new son and watch him grow and develop. Awh, shucks.

See you soon, little guy!

~as

WANTED: Revenge on my glue gun

Don’t you just love when you have a nice, productive weekend? Too many recent weekends of mine have went a little something like this: would I rather clean and get stuff done around the house…OR…would I rather veg out and maybe shop or putz around on the internet?

I’ll take the later for 500, Alex. (Love you, Jeopardy)

Well, this weekend was a little different...and thank goodness, because even I can only take so much vegging out.

I managed to run a bunch of errands and also worked with Eric’s mom to iron out some of the details for my upcoming baby shower in May. SOOO excited for the shower, by the way! Seriously, I challenge you to find someone that doesn’t love a baby shower. With all the adorable little outfits and accoutrements, it’s a feast for my eyes.

Anyway, in preparing for the shower my mother-in-law and I decided to “assemble” the guest thank you gifts which required the use of a hot glue gun. With both of us armed with our own glue guns, we got down to business. But I kid you not…not even 5 minutes into the project, I was wounded.

MAN DOWN!

I managed to get a huge glob of hot glue directly on the palm of my hand. It was sooo freaking hot that it instantly blistered my skin. Things were not pretty. And I still have the dime sized blister to prove it. And of course it’s in the most unfortunate spot for typing on my laptop. Glue gun = 1, Anne = 0

Alas, the weekend ended on an upswing. I motivated myself to start AND finish painting the nursery. Woohoo! Check that off the to-do list. We (and by we, I mean me) decided to go with a sage green color. Eric and I “talked” about the color to use and I’m fairly certain that he may have wanted to just stick with the previous blue that was already on the walls, but this was one of the situations where I played the “I’m-carrying-your-child-for-nine-months-in-my-body-so-why-don’t-you-go-make-yourself-a-martini-while-I-sip-on-my-KIDDIE COCKTAIL” card and he was defeated. Not much you can say to refute that. The glue gun may have won round one earlier, but I won this one. Sorry, Eric, but someone has to pay. ;) Just joshing…love ya!

~as

I turned 60 overnight

So I’ve figured out my next challenge. I’ve decided it’s fine time to teach myself how to crochet.

I don’t personally know anyone that crochets that doesn’t also qualify for AARP benefits, but hey…I’m sure they’re out there somewhere, right?

What sparked this interest was seeing an adorable, homemade crocheted baby blanket and hat on etsy.com. I love that website, by the way. I was close to pulling the trigger on purchasing them when I thought, “Wait a second…maybe…just maybe…I could make our baby his own homemade blanket!”

And thus begins a new challenge.

And since you all know once I get an idea in my head, I have to act upon it IMMEDIATELY, I went to Joann Fabrics straight from work that day and picked up my supplies:

*Picture courtesy of Eric…thanks!

Eric is all too familiar with ideas that pop into my head and must be acted upon now. Not in 15 minutes…but NOW!!! As if the house may burn down if we don’t immediately clean out that coat closet that is overflowing that I just happened to walk by and notice.

Anyway, after the first few frustrating attempts of practically tangling myself up in yarn with no crochet stitches in sight, I think I may be making some progress. I’m aiming first for a successful small washcloth before I attempt the big daddy project of the baby blanket. I still have quite a way to go, but I have at least the bottom inch or more completed and you can actually tell it’s going to turn out to be something. What yet is still to be determined…but it’ll be something alright. Stay tuned for pics!

~as

A Baskin Robbins kind of day

Because of my uncontrollable urge to constantly be planning something, I’ve already finished registering for my baby shower in May. I think I demonstrated admirable restraint, though…I waited TWO WHOLE DAYS after finding out the sex before hightailing it to the stores!

I made one fatal flaw, though.

My desire to register quickly resulted in me inadvertantly going on a Saturday. First problem with this is that Saturdays are when everyone and their mother shops. Bad, Anne.

First stop was Target. It was a ZOO. Oh, and I know sometimes children are very wild and crazy at times and have their unpredictable “off” days, but I’m sorry…I will NEVER, EVER let my children run rampant through the aisles of a store without supervision while they yell and scream. Who allows that?!? Whoever they are, they need to stop reproducing ASAP. ;)

Needless to say, my trusty scan gun and I got down to business and got the heck out of dodge as quickly as I could. One store down, one to go.

Next on my agenda was Babies R Us. If I thought Target was bad, I had another thing coming.

Upon pulling up to Babies R Us, I noticed their parking lot was completely packed. This should’ve tipped me off and I should’ve turned right around.

Should’ve being the key word.

I was already there and figured what the hell. Well, what the hell was right. Turns out I picked possibly the worst day to register. Apparently, Babies R Us was having their “Annual Baby Shower” event in which they give away two small samples (at least that’s all I got) to lure new mothers-to-be to register at their store.

Big mistake. HUGE mistake. (thanks, Pretty Woman!)

The place was a madhouse. It made Target look like a deserted ghost town. I had to wait like 30-40 minutes just to get a scanner and then make my way through the zillions of other anxious/excited-to-register ladies. Ugh.

Never one to admit defeat, though, I fought through and succeeded in my mission.

Back in my car 90 minutes and one headache later, I decided it was definitely a Baskin Robbins type of afternoon. A treat of my favorite ice cream, Peanut Butter ‘n Chocolate, was definitely in order to make everything all better.

~as

In the great words of Carrie Bradshaw, “Hello…lover.”

Blame it on the hormones or my inability to deny a 20% off coupon. Or if I wasn’t pregnant, I’d try to “blame it on the ‘tron” ala Jamie Fox style. Regardless of where the blame is placed, I finally did THE DEED.

I am no longer a virgin. Sorry, Mom and Dad. Although, I think you already knew that with Sebastian on the way. ;)

What I mean is that I’m no longer a Coach virgin.

Yep, that’s right. I finally broke down and I decided to treat myself to the gold standard of handbags (and all sorts of other accoutrements).

Fear not; I would have made bargain hunters around the globe proud. I didn’t just waltz into my nearest Coach retail store and hand over my Visa. No sir-ee bob! I do enough handing over of that puppy as it is…

Instead, I trucked it out to an outlet mall. Between their already discounted prices and a 20% off coupon a fellow Coach loving friend gave me (oh yeah, I should try to blame this on her, too…haha) I am now the new owner of my very first Coach handbag.

And…wallet.

Hey - once you get me going, good luck stopping me. I can’t be caught making a fashion faux pas by having a designer handbag with a $10 used and abused wallet straight from Kohl’s clearance section.

*Photo courtesy of Eric...thanks!

And let me tell you...not an ounce of buyer’s remorse. Deducting the hefty sum of cash from my checking account register was a little tough to swallow, but I've recovered from my mini heart attack and I’m extremely pleased. (YES – I am one of about ten people that still religiously uses their register!)

Every time I look at “her”, I mentally say to myself, “Hello…lover.” Okay, let’s be honest, sometimes I say it out loud, too. She’s a beauty and the leather is ridiculously soft. Definitely worth it. I fear I may be addicted. Uh oh. But I’m not too worried. Once the cost of a child sets in, I’ll snap right out of that addiction.

~as

Oops!

This is what happens when someone tries to talk to me while I’m making my morning oatmeal. I clearly CANNOT complete two seemingly easy tasks at once.

RIP styrofoam bowl.

~as

Out Numbered

We finally found out…we will be welcoming a son into our family this summer!! Eric and I are both very, very excited and can’t wait to meet the little guy. Hurry up, July, and get here already!  P.S. - I totally need to buy this:

Anyway, because someone I know was told she was having a boy when it turned out later to be a girl, the conversation with the ultrasound tech went a little something like this:

UT: “Are you interested in finding out the gender?”

Anne: “Yes.”

UT: (few minutes after getting me lubed up and getting the first few shots) “Oh, I can see the gender…”

Anne: (after a awkward pause) “….AND????”

UT: “It’s a boy.”

Anne: (after my excitement settled down and I recall previous gender mixup story) “So on a scale of one to ten, just how sure are you that it’s a boy?”

UT: “9.75. They tell us we can never say 100%. Here, let me show you.”

(UT proceeds to “show” Eric and I what was supposed to be his man parts, but I’m sorry – ultrasounds are all gray and fuzzy. I couldn’t see anything that I was supposed to be seeing, but didn’t feel like admitting it to her.)

UT: “Do you see?”

Anne: “Oh, okay.” (Yeah, whatever…she’s the pro…I’ll take her word on it.)

~as

Not like other people

When most people start to feel a little under the weather, they either notice a reduction in their eating or head towards food like soup, crackers, broth, etc.

I’m not like other people.

My appetite never fails me. NEVER. In fact, I seem to crave additional food when I feel under the weather, usually in the form of comfort foods. And in my world that typically means sweets. Mmmm...

As such, tonight I’ll be getting my bake on. Feast your eyes on these lovelies:
 

 
These Reese’s peanut butter cup cookies are going to kick my cold’s ass.

Before we know it, the twinkle will be back in my eye (along with a few extra pounds that I won’t be able to blame on the baby). Trusty exercise bike: get ready for me!

For the baby’s sake, I sure hope he/she doesn’t get my sweet tooth. UGH.

~as

Wauwatosa woman uncovers Starbucks trick

I love Starbucks.  A LOT. I do understand, though, how ridiculously expensive their specialty drinks are and as such, only go there on occasion. I’m sure our soon-to-be child will have enough reasons we cause him/her to seek therapy later in life…spending their college money on Caramel Macchiatos w/skim milk doesn’t need to be one of them.  If I could get this with Caramel Macchiatos in it, that'd be brilliant:

Anyway, this past Sunday was one of those special occasions. And by special occasions I mean those times when Eric or I need to bribe the other into doing something and do so through the promise of a Starbucks stop. Good times.

Well, we hadn’t been there in quite a while, partially because since finding out I was pregnant, I ceased my usual caffeine intake. And let’s be honest - most decaf coffee blows…even when you try to disguise it behind frothy milk, syrups and all the other goodies Starbucks sneaks in their beverages. Combine the mediocre taste with $5 a pop = not worth it.

But this weekend I decided to go the Chai tea route. And I’m not sure if it was the lack of caffeine in my system or the fact that I had just woken up 20 minutes prior, but I got all tongue tied when I ordered my drink. The final result was me ending up with a plain, boring hot cup of Chai tea. Not Chai Latte – that’s what I meant to order. UGH. (And yes, I know the Chai Latte has a small amount of caffeine in it…but it’s under the daily amount I’m allowed to have…so there.)

Now here’s where I uncovered the trick.

Upon arriving home, I was determined to not let my not-so-tasty beverage go to waste. So I got the synapses a firing in the ol' brain and decided to warmed up a cup of milk and added a few teaspoons of sugar to the tea and…voila! I swear, you couldn’t tell the difference. I had my very own Chai Latte!

And the best part…

Instead of spending close to $5 on a Chai Latte, my modified, but equally as good version was only $2. SCORE.

And yes, I know this isn’t rocket science nor have I discovered the cure for cancer, but it’s not bad for a groggy Sunday morning, right?!

~as

Pinch me, I must be dreaming!

In three loooong weeks from now, I have my next doctor appointment where we get to find out the gender of the baby. And if there was any question whether or not we’re find out…we are!!!  Well, assuming the baby cooperates.  He/she better unless they want to be grounded straight out of the womb.  ;)

I give people credit that wait. I can barely wait to find out what my Christmas gifts are, let alone the gender of my child! Plus, we figure there will be PLENTY of other surprises along the way to keep us going “OMG – did you just see/hear/smell that?!”

And when those surprises pop up, I’ll probably look a little something like this: (this is my usual morning hairstyle anyway, so I’m half way there already)

Well, being the planner that I am, I’ve already made a list of some of the essential items we’ll need for the baby. And in making my list that we’ll base the registry off of, I felt confident that I would have to “justify” some of the items to my husband who seems to think certain items are unnecessary.

Trust me, I went through this with him for our bridal registry and let me tell you, it was like pulling teeth to get him to agree to some of the items I added. And what do you know…ALL of the items I fought for get used in our house now. How do ya like them apples, Eric?! ;)

Back to the baby registry…this is where my years of babysitting and helping out with my younger brother and sister would come into play. I’d rattle off a few examples of when certain items would be used and Eric’s head would begin spinning since he’s never babysat a day in his life...and BAM! He’d be defeated. Muahahaha!

Anyway, yesterday, I must’ve caught him at just the right time because when the subject of the baby registry came up, he said I could do ALL of the registering myself if I wanted to.

*Insert record scratch*

Yes, that’s right – I will NOT need to offer up carefully worded justifications for each item as I happily scan away. This has been a good week, indeed. Can’t wait to get my register on!

~as

My new favorite person

T minus 23 weeks. Jeez that sounds like forever. Might as well tell me I won’t meet my child for the next ten MILLION years!

Anyway, since I know y'all passed elementary level math and know some basics about pregnancy, you’ve probably deduced I’m 17 weeks along now. As such, I recently had my 16-week checkup with my OB. Part of the routine that I’ve become familiar with is the dreaded weigh in. Let’s be honest ladies - there aren’t many of us that don’t fear the scale on a NORMAL day, let alone when you can’t control your weight gain. (Okay, yes, I know you can somewhat control it by eating healthy, exercising, blah, blah, blah…, but at some point you’re STILL going to gain weight to accommodate the baby your body has become a vessel for!)

Since I’m still at the early weeks right now, Eric’s been faithfully going to each appointment with me. Awh shucks. Here’s where my favorite person comes into play…

As I’m dragging my feet on the way to the dreaded scale, I start to hand Eric my jacket and purse because trust me – I’m not about to get weighed with those suckers on! I carry just about everything under the sun in my purse and that would easily add another 5 pounds. Yikes. No thanks. So just as I’m about to step on the scale, Eric’s all right next to me trying to peep what I’m clocking in at. Umm, NO! I don’t care how long we’ve been together! I’ll be 90 years old and STILL refusing to tell you my weight. There are certain things that just don’t need to be shared and a woman’s weight is certainly one of them.

Now, in all fairness, who knows if he was really trying to steal a glance, or if he just happened to be positioned in a bad spot (the area isn’t that large…there’s not a whole lot of other places he could go to not be in the way).

Either way, my new favorite person (my OB’s nurse Kathy) turns to Eric and says: “Umm, you don’t get to look! Turn your head.”

Kathy, you are my HERO!


~as

And baby makes three

As many already know by this point, we’re expecting out first child this summer. Woohoo! We’re over the moon excited so if July could just hurry up and get here, that’d be great. Longest. Nine. Months. Of. My. Life.

So let’s travel back to November for a moment.

Back when I had a feeling I might be pregnant, but still wasn’t sure, I did what most all women do. Head straight for the drugstore and pick up a good old fashioned pregnancy test. (Except these days, they’re not so old fashioned anymore. They’re all high tech and digital. Gone are the days of deciphering a “+” from a “-“ sign. Now the little digital window clearly states “Pregnant” or “Not Pregnant”. Fancy pants.)

What happened next…and yeah…I won’t even try to come up with a good excuse for my actions, especially since the laws of gravity should have indicated such a debacle was about to occur, but I was oblivious as my excitement overtook all rational thinking at that moment. So you can imagine my surprise as I started taking the test and it resulted in me partially peeing on our bathroom wall.

DOH.

One thing led to another…and before I knew it, pee ricocheted off the stick.  Good luck to ya, nearest wall! Yikes. I guess gravity wanted to do its thing and not be interrupted by some stupid stick in its way.

And you might be thinking, Why didn’t she just close her legs a bit more like a normal person??

Well, A.) I’m not normal, and B.) I had never taken a pregnancy test before, so I had to keep an eye on things to make sure I was peeing in the right place. With the price of these tests, I wasn’t about to screw it up! :)

All I could do at that moment of ricocheting pee was laugh. And while I was waiting my three minutes to get the results, I got busy scrubbing our bathroom wall with soap and water. Good times. Maybe this, in hindsight, was foreshadowing for the eventual “Pregnant” result seeing as our baby will likely pee all over everything, including me and the wall next to its changing table. But now I totally have real-life, out-of-the-diaper pee cleaning experience, people! SCORE.

~as