I look back at high school and laugh at myself. Things that were such a big deal then are hard to even fully remember now. Break ups were the worst. School was hard. Getting up at 7:30am was such a nightmare. Juggling an after school/weekend job with school and band practice seemed overwhelming. I remember a particular break up where I laid on the bathroom floor crying while my dad consoled me. (Thanks Dad) It was the worst day of my entire life. Failing a test? OMG! My life was over. When I think of what I considered a serious situation back then, I roll my eyes. Continue reading
My relationship with coffee has changed so much in the past few weeks. I’ve seen all these cliche mom posts about wine and coffee, but once you pop out a second kid something inside of you wants coffee 24/7. It’s just like the SNL spirit animal skit. We instinctively chop off our hair, drink a LOT of coffee and develop a taste for wine. I mean-I haven’t yet wanted wine *vodka cran girl*, but it appears to be my closest goal.
I have two kids, a minivan, and strong opinions on vaccinations. I am a 19 year old child in a 31 year old mother’s body. And it’s weird as hell. Continue reading
Every single pregnancy website I read presents me with sugar coated facts and photos of perfectly shaped women with basketballs beneath their shirts. Today, at week 32, I was warned that I may be having some heartburn due to my perfect little jicama (WHATEVER THE HELL THAT IS) pushing up on my stomach, and that taking Tums and propping my head up six inches “may” help. The truth is, for some reason, God decided it would be a brilliant idea to shove a 3 and 1/2 pound human body in a space that was originally the size of a plum. Instead of it growing outward or skimming the surface of its host’s organs, it literally moves aside the entire digestive tract until said host’s stomach is literally in her throat. This is insane. INSANE. And propping my head up six inches is not going to help my heartburn. Nothing can help a person whose stomach is in their throat. Continue reading
Blogs about trips are so hard for me to write because so much happens that I don’t know where to begin. I don’t want to overwhelm you with every little detail of our five day trip, but I don’t want to forget the good stuff, so I am trying something different. I’m going to make this a series of short stories so I don’t forget anything while simultaneously not boring the heck out of my readers. Let me set the scene: Continue reading
Immediately before I started writing this post, I was on Pinterest to look up nursery ideas for our new baby GIRL. I wanted ideas for her nursery. As I saved my first pin, I noticed that “Baby Girl Devens” was already a board on my profile. I had forgotten that years ago I had been searching for ideas for the possibility of a girl. Funny enough, while I did want a girl-you can read that blog here-I REALLY wanted a boy for my husband. His want for a boy outweighed my girl and I wanted him to be happy. Plus, I’d have another chance.
This go round, I just couldn’t hide it. I REALLY wanted a girl. I know some people don’t care if it’s a boy or a girl, and maybe this makes me a bad person, but I wanted a girl and there isn’t a thing I could do to change that. I have spent the past few months telling myself that another boy would be fine. I love my son more than I could possibly describe. Brothers would be so special. Two boys dressed as knights and slaying dragons and building Legos is a world I could imagine with love. Continue reading
As everyone who has ever known me is aware, I am kind of a guru of astrology. Since I was a child, I can look at someone, name a sign, and describe their inner most emotions. Zodiac signs originated in the 1990’s when Ace of Base released their glorious song “The Sign”. Since then, the world has made all personal decisions based on their zodiac signs. I am a Taurus and my husband is an Aries. We didn’t really have anything in common, but I married him anyway because our stars aligned and now we are happy. Here is what your zodiac sign means to according to me: Continue reading
This morning, as I was clearing the counter off, I asked Rick while picking up random items, “Is this trash?” (It’s super weird the things that AREN’T trash, so I’ve learned to ask.) Anyway, today, he says, “I always write trash on items that are trash. If it isn’t marked, it isn’t trash.” Obviously, I don’t have to tell you that this idea would be absolutely ridiculous. Choosing to write “trash” on something takes more time than throwing the trash in…the trash-but Rick is a man of his word. I watched him from the living room as he finished the last of the milk, opened the drawer, pulled out a permanent marker, and wrote “TRASH” on the milk jug, setting it back on the counter. All while complaining that it’s not easy that he has to write “trash” on all of his trash. I guess the point of this little story is to let you know that my husband is weird. Like…really weird. He’s so weird that I am in awe of the creativity required to carry out this weirdness in a hilarious manner. Continue reading