That's Right.

Please ignore the people in the background.

... I'm pregnant (again)!

Most people are hesitant to make this sort of announcement until they are out of the "risky" period of pregnancy. Not us. We are full-out telling people. We never do what you're "supposed" to do. It works for us. We need the prayers of our families, and the health of our baby does not depend on how many people we do or do not share the good news with.

Also, it made a fun Christmas surprise to tell everyone.

After going through a miscarriage in late August, I am both terrified and excited to be pregnant again. I HAVE to believe that this baby is healthy and all will be well ... I drive myself crazy with worry if I let myself even think about the alternative. 

My hypersensitivity and irrational behavior has only just begun, and Bitch Mode has started to slowly kick into gear. It's going to be QUITE a ride. At least this time, Husband knows what to expect. The last time, I distinctly remember him yelling at me because I was "using hormones as an excuse to be a bitch."

No ... no. Not an excuse. Fact.

Poor man. He has learned the ways of womanhood since then. I can tell because he's already being so helpful. Possibly out of fear.

A Place Of Yes.

Fact: I suceeded in eating a 3 lb. butternut squash all by myself over the course of 5 days.

You see ... I made soup. I'm normally very intimidated by new recipes, especially if they involve ingredients I'm not familiar with -- such as a butternut squash. But when I saw this, I knew it had to happen.

Curried butternut and red lentil soup, from http://www.eatliverun.com/

Looking at this picture makes me so hungry.

It's hearty, orange-colored, healthy bliss in a bowl. Perfect for wintry days. Husband turned up his nose, but he did help me peel and chop up the squash. I didn't offer it to my Toddler because it's really spicy. So ... I ate it. All of it. And it was awesome.

Greetings From The Other Side of Christmas.

I'm 31 years old now, my son has more toys than he knows what to do with, and I'm not sure I've fully recovered from staying in close quarters with 9+ other people. With spotty cell service, might I add.

We have lots to discuss, friends. Lots to discuss.

Just give me a day to regroup, and I'll get to it. Chasing after this little boy for 48 hours took its toll. Probably because I'm expecting another little one. But that's a whole other story.

In constant motion.

Happy Holidays.

I don't trust you ... weirdo.

Things That Make Me Happy.

I'm starting a new category. It's called "things that make me happy," because so many things do.

Example: here is my sad, tired old ironing board. It's a depressing shade of bluish purple that's fading in spots.

Today while shopping at Sears, I came across a new ironing board pad and cover that was marked down to $13.99. I snatched it off the rack with the lightning-fast speed that can only be seen when a woman has spotted a bargain.

Look how well it goes with our super cheap bedding!! I tried to explain it to Husband, but he just rolled his eyes.  

BUT LOOK. It was simply meant to be.

 

It matches, but not too well. My favorite kind. I'm girlifying our bedroom, one step at a time.

VOTE!

WOW!

Birminghammommy has been nominated for Birmingham's Best Local Website!! I am so proud to be a contributing writer for this site and I would love to see it win the title.

PLEASE VOTE HERE!

Ugh.

Today I was reminded of two things:

1. I dislike old movies. I wish I liked them, but I don't. They bore me to death. 

TO DEATH.

2. I dislike the Hallmark Movie Channel. I want to like it. But I just. Can't. Do. It. 

 ... no thank you.






I figured it was Christmas, I should watch Hallmark movies. Right? Yesterday I tried. I gave it an honest effort. It was some awful movie about a couple trapped in a strange town, in the snow -- of course. It was so annoying. 

Today I got 8 minutes into the "Gift of the Magi" before I gave up. And don't even get me started on "The Santa Suit."

Have too many episodes of Dexter and True Blood ruined my TV palate? Perhaps.

The Truth.

I like to think that I'm a person who can handle an occasional dose of honesty. 

I appreciate people who can tell it like it is. It means that they aren't afraid to speak their mind. I like that. Sometimes people who have that quality tend to be labeled "abrasive" or "rude." A lot of the time, I get along just fine with them. Why? Because my label is"nice." 

HOW BORING. 

Now, I'd love to believe that everything I do and say is the right thing at the right time, and all my decisions are sound ... but the truth is, I am kind of a screw up. I need people in my life who can gently point me back in the right direction if needed. Sometimes it's hard to hear that you messed up/look like death/are being an idiot, but the worst thing in the world is for the people who love you to let you run amuk without saying a word until it's too late.

This post is just a general thank you to all the people in my life who put me in my place when I need them to.

Pink Eye.

Conjunctivitis has entered my household.

Don't come over.

12 Days of 30.

Yesterday, whilst sitting in a meeting I cared nothing about, I was lost in thought and realized ... I'll be 31 years old in just a few days.

12 days.

I don't know what it is about this year that I have found so liberating, but I am loving being "in my thirties." I feel like I've learned more this year that in any other year of my adult life. I've given myself permission to mess up, to make things right, to be myself without apologies and to live with a frankness that I wish I'd discovered a little sooner. 

This year has brought me intense stress, overwhelming sadness, then joy; and finally blessings beyond belief. My husband and I held on to the hope that things would work out when life got difficult -- and they did. They always do.

I have started a mental list of things I want to accomplish in my 31st year and I hope that I can achieve at least a few of them. If I don't, oh well. I'm over putting *unrealistic expectations on myself.  

*Like getting myself back into the jeans I'm wearing in the picture below. That's not going to happen any time soon. I accept that. Maybe in my 32nd year?

Me and a bowling ball on my 30th birthday.

Not Your Mama's Dinner.

There are few things in life that I hold true, and one of them is dinnertime. Actually, let’s be real–I love meals. Any meal will do.

I grew up in a happy household and I like to believe part of that had to do with dinnertime. It seems to be one of the keys to family togetherness. There is a part of me that longs to replicate what Italian families do best – meal time. They gather, they banter, they eat amazing food and drink amazing wine. The women hover, whisking away dirty plates and doling out second helpings. The traditionalist in me finds this scenario appealing.

Please note that I am not Italian; I do, however, love me some wine.

In today’s fast-paced world, you have to wonder HOW and IF people manage to pull off family dinnertime anymore. Does traditional “dinnertime” still exist? Does anyone even bother with it?

Well … I bother with it. But it’s not pretty.

Read the rest at birminghammommy.com!

I Hate Walmart.

I recently discussed my love of Publix. Now I shall discuss my hatred of Walmart.

Generally, I'm a big fan of the bargain ... but only to a point. If said bargain requires a lot of aggravation, it's not worth it to me. I'll gladly OVERpay to avoid needless aggravation. This is why I don't go to "doorbuster" sales the day after Thanksgiving. I'll just pay full price, thank you.

Obviously, Walmart has an edge when it comes to price, and that is the only reason I go there. Diapers and Pull Ups tend to get expensive. I really dislike the place, but I put up with it because I live on a budget. If we had more money (even just a LITTLE more money), I would never step foot in there. Never.

Today, I had a short list of items which contained red lentils -- I needed them to make a soup I found on a food blog. Of course, Walmart does not carry red lentils. In fact, all of the dried legumes were Great Value brand, which I was not okay with. Sell your store brands if you must, but give me real brands to choose from too, please. 

My visit went downhill from there. It was ridiculously crowded. There were not enough cashiers. My patience wore out before I even paid for my items, but the final straw took place on my way out. 

I was thirsty and tired and really wanted a Coke. I rolled The Toddler over to the drink machines by the exit and put a dollar in. I'm not quite sure how to explain what happened next. I heard the can descending so I leaned over to grab it.

As usual, the can rocketed to the bottom ... but this time,  Coke spewed all over me. I still don't know how or why, but my favorite yellow coat is no longer yellow, my hair is crunchy and my clothes got soaked. It was like there was a water hose of Coke spraying out of the machine.

Since my son was with me and I was trying to set an example, I calmly said "time to go" and we rolled out. I crankily unloaded him and my three bags into the car while a line of people waited impatiently to nab my spot. A Walmart employee stood right there staring and did not offer to help when I dropped one of my bags whilst struggling with my Toddler.

I wanted to say a bad word. I thought one in my head. 

Next time I need anything, I'm going to Publix. My husband will just have to deal.

WHAT DID YOU SAY?!

What do you do when your child uses a "bad word," in context? 

You see, that's the kicker. It's one thing for the little parrot to repeat everything he hears, but to use an unsavory word in the correct way means that he understands it's meaning enough to know when to use it.

And THAT, my friends, is not okay. It's more not okay than Old Navy's new shipment of floral prints. My son is two. He just learned how to say "I'm thirsty" and "Daddy's at work." He just learned who Santa Claus is.  He can't even walk down the stairs by himself yet.

He didn't hear it on TV. We are TV Nazis. He didn't hear one of us say it. Someone TAUGHT him that word. This seems to be my introduction to the part of motherhood when you realize that the environment that your child is in really does affect them in a deep way. 

I know this is just the beginning. I have many more years of this ahead of me ... but the first experience is a shock, like getting ice water dumped on your head. My child is a sponge, and I don't have as much control as I would like to over what he absorbs in this world.

Open Letter.

Dear Old Navy,

It is not okay that you are already getting Spring merchandise in your stores. It is currently December. We still have January and February to get through before people start thinking about floral prints.

Get it together.

Thank you,
Harmony

P.S. Today I mistook one of your tiny mannequins for an actual child. I did not enjoy that.

The Cure For Laziness.

I haven't exercised in a month. Until today.

I was thinking ... maybe if I post a picture of myself in spandex, it will motivate me to work out more often. As a good friend of mine always says, "the cure for laziness is to stop being lazy." It's really irritating, but it's the truth.

Today I broke the cycle and I exercised. It was quite the spectacle. Also, a toddler was crowding me on the yoga mat.

40 minutes of "Body By Bethenny" later, my arms were so shaky I couldn't lift a plate. THAT is more motivating to me that seeing my butt in the above photo.

Happy December!

Ugh.

How is it only Wednesday?!

I feel like I got run over.

I Pooted.

I have quite the gregarious two-year-old.

On Saturday I took him with me to the mall so I could get some MAJOR shopping done. He was in good spirits. He entertained himself in the following way:

A stranger walks by.

My son: "Hi!"

Stranger: "Well, hi there!"

My son: "I pooted!"

It sounds funny, and it was ... kind of. Until I was in a checkout line and he started freaking out. Every few seconds he would say "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. I pooted!" I would tell him "just say excuse me."

So he would. And then he would repeat "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. I pooted!" Over and over. The thing is, he really was pooting -- a lot. I felt sorry for the people behind us in line.

Tonight he managed to poop in one bathtub ... did nothing when I rushed him to the potty ... then finished pooping in the OTHER bathtub. Is it normal to start seeing spots when you're nauseous? Because I did.

Good day.

Ode.

Today I want to pay tribute to the man who has put up with me for almost 8 years now. 5+ of those years have been in holy matrimony.

I have issues. Who doesn't? He loves me and my issues and my ridiculous wardrobe that just keeps growing and my fanaticism over cleanliness. 

The other night I was washing my face and I noticed that I'm getting fine lines. Nothing serious, but they are there. I freaked. I said "WHAT IS THIS?!" And promptly started my descent into The Pit.

He came over, wrapped his arms around me and said "of course you're getting wrinkles. We're going to get wrinkled together." That made it seem sort of romantic, and now I am fine (until the next sighting).

Meet the man who is going to fund my Botox in 10 years.

Where Shopping Is A Pleasure.

I love Publix.

Today was a long, crappy day, putting the icing on the cake of a long, crappy week. I left work and sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic for 30 minutes. Then I arrived at the daycare to learn that my little angel has been anything BUT angelic.  For like a week now.

He threw a big fat tantrum while two of his teachers talked to me about his behavior. He literally screamed the whole time. I hung on to his arm and ignored it, wondering if I should take him into the bathroom and *beat his ass, or if that was too rash ... because after all, it had been a long, crappy day and I didn't want to overreact.

Two year olds have a way of making you question your sanity.

Eventually we made it to the car. He pitched a fit the entire way to Publix. I dreaded going to the store, and would have avoided it altogether except we were completely out of diapers, toilet paper, milk, and bananas. I didn't want to have to go first thing in the morning.

So we went.

This is the reason why I love Publix: they truly do make shopping a pleasure. In fact, when the Toddler saw the green sign up ahead he said "Pubbix!" and instantly stopped crying. He likes to ride in the cart that looks like a big green car. The employees smiled at us, oblivious to the chaos that had preceded our visit. They offered samplings of food and gave him a balloon. 

As we checked out, another meltdown began. He was hungry. I told him we would have dinner as SOON as we got home. He insisted he wanted a snack. I said no, dinner was very soon. The bag boy witnessed it all and bless him, tried to distract my son into forgetting about his hunger. And then ... then. That boy loaded my groceries for me.

I have never accepted the loading service at Publix. I just prefer to do it myself. Even when I was hugely pregnant, I said no thank you. I figured there were plenty of elderly patrons who needed to be loaded up instead. I have a pride issue. But today -- today I accepted.

And it was AWESOME.

* for those of you who don't know me personally, and may not understand that "beat his ass" is just a figure of speech, I wanted to let you know that I only mean popping his butt quickly three times and that is all.  Just wanted to clear that up.

Love.

So Tired.

Something may be wrong with me. I have been physically incapable of exercising lately. At first I thought it was just that I've gotten out of the habit. Then I thought maybe my immune system was low and that's why I have no energy.

My friends asked me to run a 5k with them this Saturday. I laughed -- heartily.

Then, yesterday I thought -- I have the winter blues! That's what it is. Short, chilly days make it impossible for me to exercise outside during the week. So I decided to do a workout video.

I put on my exercise clothes, put my boy to bed, moved the furniture out of the way and approximately ONE minute into my yoga DVD, I folded myself into "child's pose" and never got up again.

Advice and tips are welcomed. I'll be napping while you are thinking.