your wishcake.

on a wordless Wednesday...

2012-02-01T07:54:00.000-08:00

on our cozy, little bedroom...

2012-01-29T19:55:00.001-08:00

If you had told me a few years ago that we'd be living in our one-bedroom duplex with a baby, I wouldn't have believed you. Well, maybe the baby part (mostly because I had "the fever" throughout most of our marriage), but not the still-in-the-duplex part. After we found out we had a wee one on the way, our first inclination was to scramble to find a larger place. Initially, the thought of the baby not having their own room seemed ridiculous. A baby needs their own nursery, right? We figured there was just no way to fit all the baby stuff into our already-full place.

However, after a certain point, we kind of looked at each other and were like, "Why don't we just...stay?" After we started talking about it, it began to make more sense. We didn't really want to pay more than we were already paying in rent (and if you know anything about Southern California, renting a two-bedroom place somewhere you won't be chopped to bits in your sleep is ridiculously expensive). Also, the more I talked with other parents about it, the more I realized that many babies don't even sleep in their own rooms for quite some time after they're born.

So, it was decided. We'd stay.

We began moving things around…transferring some of our less-used belongings to the garage. I downsized my clothes so that they fit into my side of the closet and just two drawers, and Jay even parted ways with a few bags of items from his gargantuan wardrobe (no, really—the man literally has four times the amount of clothes I do).

Slowly, but surely, our one-bedroom duplex started to feel a bit more baby-ready. Our bedroom—which had previously also held our large computer desk—was now filled mainly with our bed, a changing table, a nightstand, and a crib. And it didn't even seem claustrophobic. It seemed like a miracle, and I was thrilled.

I'm constantly seeing these stunning nurseries online that give me heart palpitations due to their gorgeousness—and, to be honest, up until now I have been too intimidated to share Eisley's "nursery" space with the online world. There was so much more I wanted to do with it! Photo collages! A mobile! Handmade things! Stuff to impress everyone!

But then I took a step back and realized that I was being ridiculous. It is what it is, and every time I walk into our bedroom it makes me happy. It's our room. It's where we enjoyed our first days with Eisley. It's where I've spent sleepless nights and cheerful mornings. It's not fancy or perfectly coordinated, and doesn't fit in a magazine, but it is exactly what we need right now. It took me a while, but I realized that I'm quite proud of the space we've created for our little peanut. So, I thought it was time to buck up and share it with you. I also hope to show that it is, indeed, possible to have a baby in a one-bedroom place!

Here is a little tour:

When you walk in the door to our bedroom, this is what you see! I love that the sunlight fills the room during the afternoon. So warm and cozy. I also like that our above-the-nightstand collage is reflected in the mirror above the changing table.

If you're standing in the corner of the room, this is the view. I zoomed out a bit with my camera lens, but this sort of gives you an idea of the size of the space we had to work with—and we're lucky, really, to have a good-sized bedroom! We're able to fit quite a bit into it. (Also, can you see the wee one, trying to take a book off the shelf? Sneaky little nugget.) Here are a few notes on her side of the room:

Eisley's crib and changing table are a hand-me-down from Jay's Aunt and Uncle. They're in perfect condition and I adore them so!
I use a couple of the drawers in the changing table for my clothes, and we are able to store diapers, blankets and other items in bins (from Ikea) under the crib.
The metal "e" above the crib was purchased from a thrift sale, and the frame around it is actually an old frame I took apart and was going to throw away (until I realized how perfect it was to reuse!).
The framed "La Vie en Rose" print is from Sycamore Street Press.
Her adorable tulip bedding was purchased on super-clearance from Target!
A white-noise machine is resting on top of the heating unit. It's a must-have for where we live (since there is constant traffic noise) and it also helps her nap without hearing what is going on in the rest of our tiny duplex.

In the corner, we have room to store a laundry basket, a Diaper Genie (which is a must-have for the small space!), and a few other items (like extra wipes and some nursing necessities).

Here's a close-up of a little inspiration board I put together for Eisley! It includes the following items:

A flower (this was actually taken off a gift bag and was also used on a makeshift headband from this photo!).
A sweet mini-print from Persimmon and Pink.
A print that was given to me from a friend.
One of Eisley's ultrasound photos.
A vintage-style calendar page from the month she was born, and a cute list sheet that I had every intention of writing something witty on (we'll see if that ever happens).
A few magnets, Eisley's ankle "bracelet" from the hospital, and a porcelain bird.

The changing station features her fluffy changing pad, a few diapers, an Ikea lamp, and some hand-sanitizer (I refill the cute dispenser with stuff I buy at the dollar store!). I made the paper banner from the pages of a paper catalog (I loved the bright pattern) and a couple pieces of ephemera. The hanging cloth bag was an adorable (handmade!) baby shower gift from a sweet friend.

NUGGET BABY! Sorry, I got distracted for a second. When you turn left from the changing table, you'll see all this goodness. Literally everything (except a few knick knacks on the shelf) is from Ikea. Ikea, Ikea, Ikea, amen.

I've come to really love "our" side of the room. I love the collage above the nightstand. I love the "breathe" wall adornment (purchased from Oh Dier). I love our mustard-colored curtains. I love the fact that I can charge my iPod on our nightstand for those late-night nursing sessions (during which I must check twitter and get all riled up by the shenanigans on the BabyCenter message boards).

So, there you have it! We managed to cram everything we really need into this room (as well as the closet and drawers just outside our bedroom). Contrary to popular belief, a family of three can actually fit into a one-bedroom duplex without going absolutely crazy.

That's not to say I don't dream of having a nursery to decorate someday. But I kind of love the cozy situation we have going on right now. And for that I am thankful.

[Image frame via irocksowhat.com!]

on month five...

2012-01-28T10:30:00.000-08:00

I'm once again a wee bit behind on Eisley's monthly post, but I'm just going to go with it. (Also, these photoshoots are getting increasingly difficult as she rolls around and is what I like to call "squirmy jones". Hence the second photo where she looks like a baked potato. Can't win 'em all.) She'll be six months in two weeks (arghhh!), and all she's learned in the past ten days alone just blows my mind. Yesterday I told Jay that I couldn't believe she was almost twelve, and he seemed to think I was getting a ahead of myself. Hmmm.

But let's back up a bit and focus on good ol' month five!

Our daily routine has become much more solid, which is fantastic. I love having an idea of when she'll be napping or when she'll be hungry, and so on and so forth. We never quite recovered from the 4-month sleep regression, and nighttime has been tricky. She typically wakes up at least twice between 8PM and 8AM. Usually it's three times, and she eats every time. I'm just thankful, thankful, thankful that I don't have to work right now because I would need a caffeine IV drip.

Here are a few of my favorite things from her fifth month:

We're still holding on to those size 1-2 diapers, because we have about a hundred left. This is especially dangerous whenever I decide to drive somewhere more than a mile away. (As I've mentioned to a couple of my other mommy friends, nothing says classy like changing a diaper in the Dollar Store parking lot.) Note to self: When buying diapers at Costco, ALWAYS go up a size. Amen.
She's still wearing 3-month clothes, but considering most of her leggings are now capris, we may be venturing into 6-month territory very soon.
Her favorite toys: a tiny plastic seahorse, the remote control, stackable cups, a spatula, a freezable teether, and a bright yellow tube of mascara. She also likes falling asleep to her glowy, musical seahorse friend—and has figured out how to tap it enough to turn it on!
She apparently enjoys watching football as much as Jay. Who knew?
When she wakes up in the morning, she has rolled from her belly to her back, and is usually a bundle of pure bliss—giggling and rolling around with her stuffed animals.
So many spit bubbles! She loves blowing "raspberries".
Our Maya Wrap is the greatest thing ever. I wear it whenever we're shopping, and she's absolutely content the entire time. It's magic! Get one!
Although she seems a bit wary of strangers, she is quick to warm up. She is fine being passed around from person to person, and doesn't seem to "miss" me yet. Perhaps now would be a good time for Jay and I to go on our first post-baby date?
She loves when we let her "walk" around the room while holding onto our fingers. Her steps are so coordinated now, and it makes her look so grown up! Gah!
I let her gnaw on apple slices every now and again. Which is pretty cute, if I do say so myself.
Although nights are sometimes rough, she is always an incredible napper, taking at least three a day. I'm so thankful for that!

Also, as of almost two weeks ago, we have a mover! Or leapfrog. Or something. (Since this video was taken, she now roams all over the room, which is just crazy. I'm so proud of my little nugget!)

aaaaand we have a mover! from wishcake on Vimeo.

on all those emotions...

2012-01-26T09:00:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to write this post for a while now, but it just wasn't coming together. I'm usually most comfortable spilling out my thoughts onto paper (or, in this case, my blog)—but, somehow, this has been harder to do. I figured that I should still try, as I always seem to feel a bit lighter after writing.

So, here we are.

When I was at the hospital after having Eisley, I was struggling to get my high blood pressure under control, which led to me staying there for a couple extra days. I remember being so eager to just go home with my husband and daughter, and begin our life as a little family. (I was also eager to get off of the magnesium medication that was turning me into a zombie. I remember feeling so drained that I ate breakfast with my eyes closed one morning, and could hardly lift my arm to hold a spoon. But that's a story for another time.) I voiced my eagerness to get home to one of my nurses, to which she replied, "Oh, believe me. Once you get home you'll be wishing you had more time at the hospital where you had so much extra help!"

Truth be told, once we did finally arrive home, those first days were magic. I found it easier than it was at the hospital—mostly because I wasn't hooked up to a bunch of machines, but also because I finally felt like my life as a mom had truly begun. It was, of course, a lot to handle. Sleepless nights and frustrations with breastfeeding were certainly challenging, but I didn't feel like I was in over my head. I felt okay. Each day brought new confidence and new moments that made my soul dance a little bit. It was good. And it helped that my parents were there to offer encouragement and advice, and Jay was able to take a month away from work to help us settle into our new life.

Even when Jay had to go back to work, I felt okay. A little scared the first couple weeks, but okay.

It wasn't until Eisley was a couple months old that I started feeling a bit more anxious than usual. Eisley was no longer a new-newborn, and that's when I started to put entirely too much pressure on myself. I had taken my homebody-ness to new level, and didn't really go out much. I knew I had to venture out, but it was just…overwhelming. Not normal overwhelming, either. I had this weird social-anxiety, all of a sudden. The very thought of having to go out made me freak out a little bit.

I remember the first time I went to the post office, my heart was racing out of my chest. Eisley was quiet and sweet, and didn't even make a peep, but I could hardly keep it together. Standing in line, I was all, "People can totally hear my heartbeat right now. Fantastic." Having a simple conversation with the friendly postal worker made me feel awkward, and my I'm sure I looked like I'd consumed entirely too much caffeine with the jittery way I was acting.

For the past few months, even simple tasks have seemed ridiculously overwhelming. Emails, phone calls, friendly meet-ups, simple errands, tasks I usually enjoy. Having more than regular day-to-day "mom stuff" on my daily to-do list would make me ridiculously tense, and when I didn't mark everything off at the end of the day I felt like I had to add the uncompleted items to the next day's schedule…and so on, and so forth. I was constantly plagued with thoughts of, "I WILL NEVER BE CAUGHT UP. I AM NOT DOING ENOUGH. I AM FAILING."

I've also struggled a lot with guilt. Unnecessary guilt, but still. It's there, even when I try to fight it. I'm thankful to be able to stay at home with Eisley, and not have to work. This is something that Jay and I agreed upon, but I still feel like I'm not pulling my weight unless I do absolutely everything that I think should be accomplished each day. It's crushing sometimes. There's this mean voice in the back of my head that's saying, "You don't deserve to stay at home. You're not doing enough. Do more, and then you can justify your new way of life."

What's odd is the fact that I fully realize my expectations are way too high, and I can't even really define what "doing it all" would entail. But there is always this lingering thought that I'm not pulling enough weight in order to "deserve" to be a stay at home mom. So, instead of always relishing in these day-to-day moments I share with my daughter, there are times I let that guilt overshadow what should be moments of joy.

And whenever people asked me, "So, how are you doing?" I couldn't really say, "I made frozen fish sticks for dinner last night, so I feel like a failure as a wife. And how are you doing?"

One thing I find rather unfortunate is the lack of addressing this thing called postpartum anxiety. Doctors and baby books have endless information on postpartum depression (as they should), but I hadn't even heard of postpartum anxiety until someone shared this post with me. I've always known what I was feeling wasn't depression. I was incredibly lucky to not experience any typical "baby blues" after the wee one arrived. I was rarely weepy and never felt hopeless; it was more like I was in a constant state of hyperactivity and restlessness. And I knew what I was going through couldn't possibly just all be in my head.

Reading about postpartum anxiety made it a lot more clear. Racing thoughts (um, hello, this is my life), inability to just stop moving and relax (Jay is always like, "Why can't you just watch this movie without getting up and doing a hundred other things?!"), constant worry (constant, yo), sleeplessness (due to those good ol' racing thoughts), irrational fear of awful things happening to your baby (things that couldn't even possibly happen, like her falling out of the car on the freeway). It felt good to just…know that it was something. It wasn't just me. If that makes any sense.

Most of this is written in past tense, because in the past couple weeks I've felt like my head is much more clear. I never went to the doctor, never took medication, was never diagnosed with anything…but I feel confident in saying that I struggled with postpartum anxiety on some level. I still slip into guilt-mode more than I'd like to admit, and most days I feel at least a little overwhelmed by all I want/need to accomplish. But it's not consuming, like it was before.

At this point, I just want to feel like I'm completely and entirely living, and enjoying where my life has taken me. Not dreading and worrying and comparing and feeling needlessly frustrated with anything and everything. I feel good knowing that many of the things I struggled with are starting to fade.

I'm realizing that baby steps are still steps, and they definitely count. I'm embracing imperfection. I'm learning to give myself a lot more credit.

And also allowing myself to just be still. Because that's just as important as anything else.

on a wordless Wednesday...

2012-01-25T08:55:00.000-08:00

on a little shop update...

2012-01-17T15:24:00.000-08:00

Embossed banner gift tags (set of 10): $4.00

Rosette headbands (3 colors available!): $12.00

Yarn wreath, butter & teal: $25.00

Yarn wreath, purple & teal: $25.00

Felt wallets (3 colors available!): $16.75

I've also added a limited quantity of made-to-order eisley necklaces and earrings, so feel free to take a gander! For the next few weeks I'm going to be busting a move over here, and hope to have more items/colors to choose from within the next few weeks...

Coming soon: New notecard and gift tag designs, baby headbands, rosette brooches, ruffled felt wallets, and new jewelry styles. Here's to crafty, crafty nap-times! Hurrah!

on a corner of my home...

2012-01-14T09:00:00.000-08:00

A doily.
One of my first business cards.
My favorite card from a "go fish" set my sisters and I loved when we were little. (Even though my name was spelled "wrong", I loved it.)
A childhood photo of my dad.
An adorable banner I picked up at the Etsy booth at a Renegade craft fair.

This had been adorning the wall of my now defunct crafting nook. Thinking we were going to be getting a washer/dryer, I had taken everything down and rearranged it all to fit the new appliances. Well, the actual purchasing of the washer/dryer kind of fell through (which is just as well, I suppose, since we may be moving soon), so now my nook is a huge mess and I'm kind of missing how it used to be.

I dream of having a craft room someday. It will be painted a friendly shade of blue, with built-in shelves, a frame collage on one wall, a chevron-striped rug on the floor, huge windows with sunlight pouring in, and…it will be bliss.

on the great lipstick experiment...

2012-01-12T09:00:00.000-08:00

I've always envied girls who could wear red lipstick without being completely awkward. I always told myself, "I wish I could wear red lipstick, but it looks terrible on me." And, "It doesn't work with my skin tone. I would look like a vampire or a lady of the night—maybe a bit of both." And, "I'm too cheap to try out a bunch of lipsticks in order to find the right shade."

However, I'm here to say: THOSE ARE LIES. (Well, except for the cheap part. Obviously.) In any case, I'm now having a love affair with ruby red lipstick.

Inspired by my friend Katelin's goal of finding more reasons to wear red lipstick, as well as generally wanting to be as much of a bombshell as the lovely Ashley, I randomly decided to give red lipstick a whirl. Which meant, of course, digging through the closet to find my grungy, old, theatre make-up container. (It's a Caboodles organizer. Covered in stickers. 90s style. Don't hate.)

It is actually where I've stashed all the make-up I'm too much of a hoarder to throw away, so it holds about a decade of lip glosses, eye-shadows, mini body lotion bottles, and theatre base. But I did come across these beauties, which seemed to be exactly what I was searching for:

Lipstick: Clinique "Berry Cream" (I couldn't find it online—the only one by that name on their website isn't as red, so I'm guessing they don't make this one anymore.)

Lipgloss: Tarte "Danny+Sandy" (Again, I had a hard time finding this, because apparently I only have old-timey make-up. But I did find one on Ebay. Oh, and I used the red side of the lipgloss, not the pink one.)

The lipstick itself is quite dry, so I'm glad I had the red gloss to go on top. It evened out the color beautifully, and made me feel a little bit like someone in a Maybelline commercial. I kept making kissing faces at myself in the mirror. Eisley was like, "What the heck, ma. Take it down a notch."

I don't wear much make-up, so seeing myself with bright red lips kind of freaked me out initially. I don't even wear eyeliner anymore, since I've now had to perfect the art of applying all my make-up in five minutes. But I think that's the beauty of red lipstick! I had on jeans and a button-up, my hair in a messy bun, and no more than one coat of mascara, which made the red lips dress up my look the perfect amount. I think it would have been too much for the day, had I curled my hair and put on a dress. Actually, I ended up putting on another coat of mascara later in the day and instantly regretted it, because I started having theatre flashbacks. TOO MUCH MAKEUP AHHHH.

Honestly, though? I'm kind of excited to rock the red lipstick on a regular basis. It makes baby smooching difficult (poor Eisley was covered in kiss marks by the end of the day, which was pretty creepy), and is kind of annoying to maintain (I think I ate at least a couple oz. by the end of the day), but it made me feel a little bit glamorous.

I was even brave enough to leave the house with this look, except that the wee one decided to have an exploding diaper situation five minutes into our drive. However, I was DETERMINED to show my look to someone, so I made it happen. You're welcome, McDonalds employee at the drive-thru window. You're welcome.

on a wordless Wednesday...

2012-01-11T08:57:00.000-08:00

on who I am (at the moment)...

2012-01-09T07:45:00.000-08:00

I am…

…mourning the loss of my perfectly manicured nails of days past. Well…okay. Truth be told, most days I don't even mind my chipped, uneven, halfway-polished nails. They're just a part of my new normal. Which makes them a little bit endearing, actually. Even if they make me look rather lazy.

…wishing I had the power to fix everything that needs fixing.

…eagerly awaiting a visit from some of my family next month! It feels like it's been forever since I've seen any of them. Distance is just too hard some days, and I live for these visits.

…actually becoming a (dare I say it?) halfway-decent cook. I know. I'm kind of surprised, too.

…a little proud of my updated blog design. I love when things come together just as I'd hoped.

…going on two months straight of listening to my Mumford & Sons CD in my car. Whenever we go somewhere, Jay is all, "Seriously, Kerri? Still?" And I'm like, "THIS MUSIC SINGS TO MY SOUL! Don't hate." It's seriously the best album I've discovered in years. The first track literally affects my heartbeat. It's that good.

…quite thrilled about experiencing my first haircut in over a year. Also, the stylist who washed my hair gave me a neck rub so incredible that I almost invited her to be a sister wife. Truth.

…realizing just how incredibly lucky I am.

…wishing it were possible to go back and relive a few of my very first memories. Especially my first one, when I wasn't even three, and my older sister and I were visiting my mom in the hospital after our newest sister was born. I remember washing my hands and looking at myself in the mirror. I had my hair in curly little pigtails. Things were so simple back then.

…loving all the advice you left on this post. You are all the best.

…hoping to update my shop sometime next week. I have a few adorable things I can't wait to show you. And? I'll also be doing a giveaway featuring a box of goodies from my shop. Are you excited? Well, I am.

…already experiencing a bit of baby fever. (Or maybe it's pregnancy fever?) I KNOW. Don't tell Jay. He'd have a stroke.

on 2011...

2012-01-08T09:05:00.000-08:00

I apparently never wrote one of these posts last year, but I figured I should sit down and do one for 2011, considering it was so full of blissful and busy moments! It definitely deserves to be revisited. Here is a bit of what happened in my world during the past year:

January: The word for the year ahead was "embrace". I was enjoying my second month of pregnancy, although I hadn't yet broken the news to anyone but family and close friends. My older sister, brother-in-law and adorable nephew came for a visit. I held tightly to simple moments of contentment.

February: I reached my second trimester and finally introduced everyone to my little nugget! I caught every cold in the universe, which was fun. We made the decision to stay in our duplex, instead of moving somewhere bigger. I made a list of simple pleasures and tried a new craft that turned out only slightly awkward. Jay and I celebrated five years of marriage.

March: I felt the wee one move for the first time. I wondered whether we were having a boy or a girl…only to have the mystery last a few weeks longer. I worked incredibly long hours and tried to keep my chin up. Oh, and I made a pretty necklace.

April: Early in the month, I made a few confessions. My intuition finally kicked in, and I started to think I was having a girl. I shared a belly photo and some musings on the realities of pregnancy. Jay and I finally found out we were having a girl!

May: I took a trip to Virginia to visit my parents and two of my sisters, which was the greatest ever. I did a bit of crafting when I could, but felt generally overwhelmed with life. I wrote down a few promises to my daughter.

June: I was thrilled to have hit 500 sales in my shop! Hurrah! I shared my love of lotus bowls and succulents, as well as some of my favorite memories of my mom. I somehow survived what is now known as "the great couch shenanigan". I wrote about my parents.

July: As the size of my belly (and ankles) grew, I wrote about expectations, realities and pregnancy cravings. I QUIT FACEBOOK! (Yes, that deserves all caps.) I announced my decision to become a stay-at-home-mama, and the name we had chosen for our daughter. Two friends threw me a couple of the sweetest baby showers ever.

August: I couldn't believe my pregnancy was nearly done! Ahhh! I wrote thank-you notes and was the token pregnant lady at Jay's bar-hopping 30th birthday. I wrote some final thoughts on pregnancy. On the 13th (five days before my due date), Eisley arrived! I celebrated my 27th birthday with Pizza Hut pizza, my husband and a screamy/snuggly baby. Two weeks after her birth, I wrote down a few thoughts for Eisley.

September: I realized just how much my life had changed. Jay went back to work after being home with Eisley and I for a month, which was pretty hard. I shared my birth story and one of my favorite photos in the world. I became grateful for salted caramel ice cream, my husband's patience and cosleeping. I kind of missed being pregnant.

October: I shared my thoughts on my post-baby body. I did a bit of crafting, wrote many to-do lists, and turned Eisley into the world's cutest little flower for Halloween. I creeped you out with my ghost story.

November: I shared a few scattered thoughts, as well as a list of things I do to annoy my husband. I stressed out a lot and tried to make it through each day without completely losing my mind. Making some fabric necklaces helped. We enjoyed our first Thanksgiving as a family of three!

December: Eisley giggled that one time. I was able to create handmade gifts for almost everyone on our list, and even shipped out all our packages in time! I decided to send out Christmas cards for the first time in years, and shared some holiday photo outtakes. I tried to embrace a new hair color and shared some advice with one of my sisters. Christmas came and went and was absolutely fantastic.

[What I was up to in 2007, 2008 and 2009.]

on our pirate...

2012-01-06T08:15:00.000-08:00

I'd like to introduce you to someone. This is our pirate. He doesn't really have a name. He's just mostly referred to as "the pirate". I am aware that he is creepy beyond all reason, and I'm not really buying the fact that he is supposed to be some sort of Mickey Mouse/pirate hybrid. But, you know. Just go with it.

Jay worked for Disneyland for the past nine years (up until he got his new job last month), and the company would periodically give employees little trinkets. Collectable pins and memorabilia, usually. But a few years ago, we got this pirate.

I remember when he brought it home and I was all like, "Ew! What is that thing? Why is it deformed?" After my initial confusion, we kind of forgot about it. I felt bad throwing it away (sometimes I have hoarder-esque tendencies—don't judge me), so I think it floated around from a few different drawers and cabinets before it found its current lot in life.

Which is, of course, to randomly pop up in unexpected places.

I'm not sure if it was Jay who first came up with the idea to hide him somewhere for me to find, but in the past couple years this pirate has been tucked away in the most random locations. The first few times he was in a shoe or a lunch bag. Jay and I would get a laugh out of it, and then forget about the pirate for a few weeks.

Then, out of nowhere, I'd grab my red hat off of the hook by the door and out he would tumble from his hiding place. Then it would be my turn to find a new home for the pirate. Places he has turned up lately are:

A cardigan pocket
On top of a Butterfinger in the kitchen
Inside a box of rolled oats (he spent a good two months in there, which is a little gross)
The freezer
In a video camera case
Inside a box of tampons (I told Jay that one kind of crossed the line of decency)
Within one of Jay's running shoes
Next to the shampoo in the shower

Sometimes months pass between the discoveries, which kind of makes it a bit more exciting when he does turn up somewhere new. It never fails to make my day, which is so silly (but so true).

I always wanted to be one of those couples who would write sweet notes in the steam on the bathroom mirror in the morning, or who leaves little messages of "I love you" hidden in each others pockets…but it seems that it's a rather tricky thing to get men to sign up for something like that voluntarily. Well, my husband, at least. I'm pretty sure he would never think to do something like that on a regular basis, or would feel a bit cheesy doing so.

So, while it seems some people have more romantic notions in their daily lives, we have our pirate as a random, quirky little reminder that we're thinking of each other. Case in point:

The other day I woke up to find the above situation on our kitchen counter. I laughed for a full five minutes. It was pretty much the best.

on some (simple) resolutions...

2012-01-05T08:30:00.000-08:00

I've decided to keep it simple this year. In the past, I've tried to do all the usual "lose ten pounds", "read fifty books", "eat more fruit" sorts of things, but I've found that it just doesn't happen. I've realized that losing ten pounds is overrated, I'm lucky if I finish one book within the span of four months, and I'd actually like to eat all the baked goods I can get my hands on.

This year, I'm going to be realistic. And kinder to myself.

1. Step away from the scale.

Seems counterintuitive, but I have found that once I start obsessing over the number on the scale, there's no going back. Even when I reached my goal weight a couple years back, I'd still end up focusing on that number—as opposed to celebrating a strong, capable, healthy body. Since having the wee one, I've found myself getting back into the number game, and I'm tired of looking at the scale. I'm saying goodbye. I refuse to weigh myself in 2012.

That's not to say that I don't care about being healthy. Of course I do. But I've learned that the scale isn't an accurate representation of my health, and it's a slippery slope. Instead of saying, "I want to be 120 lbs. again, sweet mercy." I'm going to say, "Although I'd like to keep these collar bones around a while longer, I refuse to fret about a little tummy pooch. Amen."

My health goals for the upcoming year: Start running again, learn to make more fresh, delicious meals, continue to enjoy our newly-vegetarian lifestyle (more on this later), and...eat more fruit and baked goods.

2. Document life.

This is a tricky one. I've been trying to find balance in doing this—between writing, photos and such. But my biggest challenge has been finding moderation. I've stepped away from the blog a bit for this reason. Although blogging has been a huge part of my life for years, I think it's easy to get swept up in the desire to write down everything that happens and share it with the world. Although some people manage to do this with so much grace and eloquence (and balance), I've learned that some moments are best kept to myself. In my own mind. Without a blog post or photo attached.

There are things I do want to do, though. I want to remember the little things, how new motherhood feels, the words Jay says that make me laugh endlessly, she color of Eisley's eyes at this exact moment.

The year ahead is pretty huge. It will mark six years of marriage with Jay, Eisley's first year, a brand new job for Jay, moving to a new place (crossing our fingers we find something that works). So, this year, I hope to find the balance between making these memories and documenting them.

My memory goals for this year: Remember that it's okay to not have every moment documented in a photo or journal entry, begin an album of photos for Eisley's first year, finally complete a wedding album (now that we have rights to the photos—LONG STORY, UGHHH), write in this book daily and this book monthly.

3. Grow.

This is, quite possibly, the most important of my resolutions this year. And one specific aspect of my life in which I'm truly craving growth would have to be my faith. I am confident in what I believe; I suppose I'd just like to feel like those beliefs aren't stagnant. I want to be unapologetically, unabashedly Christian. I'm not sure exactly what that means, or the steps I will take to get there, but I'm eager to explore.

Aside from my spiritual side, I'd also like to grow creatively, professionally (as I continue to pursue my handmade business), as a mother, as a wife. I want to look back at this time a year from now and see a definite change for the better.

My personal growth goals for this year: Officially join a church as a family, be more forgiving (of myself and of others), challenge myself creatively, fully embrace all aspects of my role as stay-at-home-mama.

There are dozens of other little things I could add to these lists, but some things are best left in my head, I suppose. And I do want to keep it (fairly) simple this year. Things I know I can accomplish. Things I don't dread, but look forward to.

It's going to be a fantastic year. Truly.

on a wordless Wednesday...

2012-01-04T10:31:00.000-08:00

on month four...

2011-12-28T11:33:00.000-08:00

Well, the wee one is now four months old (and halfway to five months, by the time this is being posted!). Since Jay just started his new job, I was the lone parent at her four-month checkup—and learned that I am, in fact, capable of not turning into a hot, weepy mess while my child is being jabbed in the leg by numerous needles. (That's not to say my heart didn't break into a million pieces. But, you know. Baby steps.)

She is in the 50th percentile for everything except her head. Her noggin looks rather small to me, but apparently she's in the 85th percentile for that. The doctor and I looked at each other like there was no way that was possible. But even after she re-measured Eisley's head, it seems as though her round little head is a round biggish head. Also worth noting, she is now 14 lbs. Pretty crazy, since she was less than 6 lbs. when we took her home from the hospital. It's still so weird to think that I don't have a newborn.

Here are a few notable notes from the past month:

Her eye color is currently somewhere in-between blue and brown, and I kind of hope they stay this lovely hazel shade.
Four-month sleep regression, ahoy! The past month has been a bit tricky on the sleep front. She went from consistently waking only once (even sleeping 11 hours straight on one glorious occasion!) to waking up two to three times each night. It's been rough on me more than anything else, and I know there are definitely worse things in the world. I can't help but be thankful for not having to go to work right now. Because I would be sleeping under my desk. And spending too much money on fluffy coffee.
Naps, on the other hand, are THE GREATEST. She'll take at least three a day—usually four, unless one is ridiculously long. It's nice to be able to put her in her crib when she's still awake, and have her soothe herself to sleep. One day I randomly tried it, and she surprised me by falling asleep on her own within minutes. It's been an absolute lifesaver.
Drool, drool, drool. I'm fairly sure she's in the very first stages of teething, since she's constantly chewing on our fingers, her fingers, the fingers of anyone who holds her. She's had a few rough days lately, too, so I'm thinking she's in a bit of pain. Poor little nugget.
She's a complete and utter wiggleworm. She flails constantly. Out of happiness, out of sleepiness, out of grumpiness, out of pure, unadulterated joy.
She is slightly timid around strangers now.
Sometimes I'm the only one able to soothe her at the end of the day, and that makes me selfishly happy. She'll just cuddle into my chest in the dark room, and I'll rub her back and wait for her to fall asleep. Bliss.
New tricks: Picking up her pacifier and putting it in her mouth (this will not sound impressive to non-moms, but DUDE, it's huge), trying to rip out any hair I have left on my head, belly laughs, rolling over from her tummy to her back.
Somewhere between month three and month four, her outie belly button decided to no longer be an outie. Apparently this is a rather typical thing?
She enjoyed her first Thanksgiving, and even nommed on a pickle for a few minutes. She asked for turkey, but we decided we should probably wait until she has teeth.

Eisley is such a joy. It's so cute to see how giddy she gets when Jay arrives home from work in the evening. And when she wakes up in the morning, she's like this squirmy little nugget of happiness. Kind of makes the lack of sleep completely worth it, right?

on being thirteen...

2011-12-23T15:14:00.000-08:00

Today my sister Nikki turns thirteen. I can hardly believe that thirteen years have passed since we first brought her home from the hospital on Christmas Eve.

Nikki has always felt a bit like a mini-me. She is incredibly creative, a true dreamer, always with a song in her heart and a bit of a dance in her step. She's growing into such a beautiful and talented girl. I kind of can't wait to see all she has yet to do in life. I have no doubt she will shine, no matter what path she chooses to follow.

I can't help but remember being thirteen, myself. Becoming a teenager is a pretty huge thing. Even though it's just a number, I still remember feeling so…grown up. Mature. Listening to my favorite songs in my room, putting on make-up in my mirror and thinking I was probably going to fall in love for the first time in a matter of days. Ah, yes. Such bliss.

My advice to Nikki, on her thirteenth birthday, is the following:

Always be proud to be you. Embrace all the lovely, quirky, millions of tiny things that are a part of who you are. In life, there are always going to be those girls who don't like you, boys who ignore you, and people who you wish you could be more like. But if it's one thing I've learned, it's that those people don't really matter. There will be hundreds more girls who can't wait to be your best friend, boys who want to catch your eye, and people who wish they could be more like you.

Find your favorite song, and sing out loud. Even if nobody else is singing. Remember that it's okay to be a good girl, a nice girl, the one who cares a little too much. Be proud of your faith, your beliefs and your incredibly silly side.

Don't rush it. Try to enjoy being thirteen. Believe me, before you know it you'll want to go back to these days and probably wish you wouldn't have been so eager to grow up. You'll get there. Just enjoy where you are in each moment, every day.

And remember that I'm always here (even if far away) whenever you need a friend, sister or confidant.

_____________________________________________________________

So, I'm asking you, my darling readers: If you were to give one piece of advice to a thirteen-year-old girl, what would it be? Please share your wisdom (or perhaps just a birthday wish for Nikki!) in the comments.

on the great hair shenanigan...

2011-12-21T12:03:00.000-08:00

Feel free to file this one under "things that don't actually matter very much in the grand scheme of things, but still feel important, especially when I haven't showered in three days and am still wearing my pajamas at noon".

Still reading? Not judging? Well, okay, then. Let's move along.

The above photos showcase the current state of my hair. Quite frankly, I feel lucky to have any hair left at the rate it's falling out. I knew to expect a bit of hair loss around three months postpartum, but I guess that I hadn't prepared myself for the extent. I mean, mercy. I'm fairly sure my hairline is receding. But I'm going to repress those thoughts and just be glad I took the time to document my last unusually good hair day. Rest in peace, bountiful curls. Rest in peace.

So, here's the situation. I'm willing to let the hair loss slide, mostly because I'm used to not having incredible, natural body in my hair. For most of my life I've had to fight to get my hair to not fall flat. (The past year has been fun, though. Very fun.) But my main issue right now is saying goodbye to highlights. I've had blonde highlights in my hair since I was sixteen, and—despite numerous claims of my desire to go back to my natural color—I've always gone back to blonde.

I just…like being blonde. It makes me happy. It makes me feel pretty. It makes me want to dance around the salon like I'm in a musical.

However, now that I have the stay-at-home-mom status (and we're keeping a closer watch on our finances), I've been slowly reverting back to my natural hair color. The last time I got highlights was when I was seven months pregnant, which was in June. Can I just celebrate that fact, real quickly? Because that shows a lot of restraint on my part. Amen.

My current issue is the grow-out. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm rocking the hip, ombre look, but when I look in the mirror I see this, as opposed to this. It's a little bit traumatizing. Sometimes I want to cry.

I'm determined to ride it out, though, and get back to a darker, more low-maintenance look. I've had my stylist "bump" the base color a few times since June, to help the grow-out be less dramatic (and less tacky). But at what point do I need to just dye it and start from scratch? My natural hair color is basically what you see on the underside of my ponytail in the above photo. I don't want to go back to only that, because I would feel all mousey, I think. I'd still like to have it be a shade lighter or perhaps a shade darker (if I feel brave enough).

Any advice? Have you gone from blonde to brunette? At this point, do you think I should dye it darker all over to get rid of all the blonde bits? What are the odds Jay agrees to let me spend too much money to get highlights JUST ONE MORE TIME PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY? (Perhaps I'm not as determined as I thought I was.)

Send help.

on some holiday photo outtakes...

2011-12-17T09:00:00.000-08:00

When I decided to send out Christmas cards this year, I knew I needed to get a perfect photo of the wee one to feature. I was (as always) entirely too eager to do a photoshoot with Eisley—especially since I had just bought the cutest headband for her from Emily Sparks. Also, I saw many people using the fabric-as-a-backdrop idea, so I decided to give it a whirl on this special occasion.

I waited until Eisley was happy as a clam (post-nap and post-lunch), and prepared everything for the photoshoot. Adorable headband? Check. Happy baby? Check. Polka-dot fabric in a lovely shade of blue? Check. Fully-charged camera? Check.

Of course, right off the bat Eisley was all, "What? You mean you didn't want me to urp all over this nice fabric you bought? No dice."

Don't be fooled by her innocent expression. She is guilty as charged.

Anyhow, I'm not sure about the rest of you, but it usually takes me over a dozen shots to get a "keeper". This time was no exception. It's especially difficult with an almost-four-month-old, because getting her attention and keeping her attention is fairly difficult. I had to keep screaming like a banshee in order to get her to make eye-contact, and then snapping the photo before she looked away or made a sour face was nearly impossible.

I wanted to share a few of the outtakes I captured before getting the perfect photo:

Too skeptical.

Too sad.

OMG WAY TOO HAPPY.

Too many chins.

Too emo.

Too "I ate an entire plate of special brownies and have been listening to Bob Marley for the past two hours".

Too…well, let's just say I'm legitimately terrified of my child in this photo.

As it turns out, I was able to get two absolutely perfect photos out of the couple-dozen I took. Although I regret not ironing the fabric before using it as a backdrop, I decided to not worry about it. After all, her sweet little face is really the only thing I notice when I look at these photos:

I'd say the photoshoot was a success! Of the two "keepers", I decided to use the smiley-photo of her in our Christmas cards, and they turned out perfectly. Even Jay couldn't stop grinning when he saw them, saying, "Oh, these are just great!" A genuine, unsolicited compliment from the husband? Mission accomplished.

on month three...

2011-12-16T14:38:00.000-08:00

(Cutest hat in the world created by Emma!)

So, I am completely and entirely late in posting this, considering Eisley is now four months old. But let's just go back in time to that glorious month three and relive some of the happy moments, shall we? (And keep in mind that certain things have changed like woah. I will be doing her month four post next week, as long as I don't completely lose my mind between now and then.)

Oh, month three. You were the best.

Eisley had finally settled in to some sort of routine, and our days became much more predictable. Once she hit three months, she also seemed much more "human", for lack of a better word. It's like she all of a sudden became a tiny person with a real personality! I loved seeing her look into my eyes, knowing that she really recognized me as her mama, and that I had the power to bring out that sweet little smile.

Here are a few of our favorite things from month three:

She finally graduated out of newborn clothes and into 0-3 month! Granted, there are still two of my favorite newborn outfits floating around in the closet somewhere. What can I say? I'm emo.
Finally! A giggle!
Our night routine was absolutely wonderful. I never did any sort of sleep training, but it just sort of worked itself out after a while. She would go to sleep sometime between 6 and 8PM, and would usually sleep for 11+ hours with only one wake-up to eat. It was pure bliss. For the first time in months, I was able to sleep for at least six hours straight each night.
She was consistently taking at least 3 (usually 4) naps each day. I finally felt like I could start catching up on the rest of life.
All of a sudden, breastfeeding became the easiest thing in the world. It was a huge, huge relief. I really never thought we'd ever reach that point, but it's like one day everything just clicked! It made me want to run around telling every new mom, "DON'T GIVE UP! IT GETS BETTER! SWEARSIES!" (Not really sure if "swearsies" is even a word. Just go with it, people.)
She finally started to enjoy "tummy time" without screaming bloody murder.
Her favorite thing was (and still is) to stand up. Of course, we always hold her securely, but the girl has what we like to call "runners legs"—thanks to her marathoning father, of course. It's kind of hilarious to see a baby that small standing up without wobbling at all, with us only holding her hands.
Her hair that fell out after she was born started to grow back in. Not long enough for a french braid yet, which is probably a good thing.

I know there are hundreds of other things, but they seem to have escaped me (which is why I need to stop waiting so long to write these updates!). Anyhow, a month four update will be coming soon, so I'm sure I'll have a bit more to write about.

In any case, month three was a good one. I started to feel more confident. She started to be a bit more familiar, instead of this wild, raging baby that was a complete and utter mystery. I struggled a lot with anxiety, guilt and stress (which is another post in itself), but came out on the other side feeling much more brave, strong and…confidently mommy-ish.

It's all a part of the journey, right? Right.

on a few giggles...

2011-12-14T13:56:00.001-08:00

a few giggles. from wishcake on Vimeo.

Until I can get myself together enough to write a decent update, you can feel free to partake in some baby giggles, courtesy of the wee one. Enjoy!

(I showed Eisley this video and she kept laughing at herself laughing. It was pretty much the greatest thing ever.)

on a Black Friday deal...

2011-11-25T11:36:00.000-08:00

Clickety click right here to shop! Please note this special offer is only good through the end of the day, expiring at midnight tonight, and is for US shipping only. New items have just been added, as well as a limited quantity of made-to-order necklaces and earrings. Hurrah!

on a wordless Wednesday...

2011-11-23T07:15:00.000-08:00

on fabric necklaces...

2011-11-21T15:13:00.000-08:00

Eisley has recently taken to grabbing anything within reach and holding on for dear life. Shirt ruffles, handfuls of hair and necklaces are her current favorites. A while ago, I'd pinned these adorable fabric necklaces (via Rubyellen of Cakies—find the original tutorial here), and this past weekend I finally got around to making a couple of my own. Thus creating a baby-friendly accessory that I needn't worry about being destroyed! (Eisley has already fallen in love with them. It's true.)

The above fabrics are my current favorites. I can't get enough of these colors together. Delicious! Yum! Other food words! Anyway, the actual braiding of these necklaces went very fast. I had flashbacks to the hours I used to spend making friendship bracelets for every single person in my entire life. (Those were the days.)

I went back and forth on how to connect them, but I ended up going with the easiest option. I tightly knotted the end of each braid, cutting a clean edge and then hot gluing them together. The hold of the glue is actually very strong, and I like the clean look of it! (Have I mentioned how my hot glue gun is my most often used crafting supply? Seriously, you can use it for everything. It's the greatest.)

The final result? A couple of fabric necklaces that add a nice punch of color to my current outfit. These necklaces aren't my usual style, but I actually adore them. Next time around, I think I'll make them a wee bit longer, though. Jay actually had the idea of making bracelets in the same style. I love when he takes interest in my crafts! It makes me all swoony. (Granted, he owes me for all the fantasy football stats I've had to listen to for the past couple months. But I digress.)

It felt good to have completed a project I'd been eying for so long. Next up on my list of crafts to try? Fabric covered pots. Could they be any more adorable? I think not.

on an artful giveaway...

2011-11-18T10:16:00.000-08:00

My sweet (and ridiculously creative) friend, Vanessa, gave me this gorgeous bib necklace a while ago, and I just fell in love with it. I remember being a little girl and associating yo-yos with country decor and such. I hadn't given them much thought since then, up until the past year. I love seeing them pop up all over Etsy—it's a sweet reminder of my childhood. And now? I can wear them in pretty shades of mustard yellow and add a unique touch to my outfit.

(When I wore the necklace last week, Eisley was completely and utterly fascinated, by the way. She could hardly handle it. She almost figured out how to use her hands, but not quite.)

I wanted to give each of you a chance to have your own gorgeous yo-yo necklace from Vanessa's Etsy shop, Artful Anthology! She is generously offering the below necklace, which is one of my favorites:

To be entered to win the above necklace, simply take a peek at Artful Anthology and leave a comment on this post with your favorite item.
You can also earn one additional entry if you tweet about this giveaway and leave a link to your tweet in an additional comment.

Vanessa's creativity never fails to make me swoon. She makes everything from baby onesies and rosette necklaces to unique stationary and hair clips. She also has a variety of adorable vintage items she's picked up from local flea markets! See below for a few of my favorite items currently in her shop (seriously, those canisters belong in my kitchen):

Entries will be accepted through midnight on Sunday, November 20th. The winner of the necklace will be announced on Monday! Good luck, lovelies.

_____________________________________________________________

Contest is now closed! As always, I used the handy-dandy random number picker (or whatever you want to call it) over at random.org, and the winner is commenter #17—Ti, who blogs over at A Cup of Ti! Congrats, m'dear! Thank you to everyone who took the time to visit Vanessa's shop and to enter this giveaway.

on who I am (at the moment)...

2011-11-17T08:34:00.000-08:00

I am…

…confident and calm one second, overwhelmed and floundering the next. It's very frustrating and a little ridiculous. I hate feeling so anxious.

…enjoying the coziness of a new scarf. And also appreciating the scarf weather that manages to show up here and there.

…trying to reevaluate a few things. Trying to figure out what needs to be taken off my plate in order for me to be a bit more centered. Trying to remember that most of the pressure I'm feeling is simply due to setting my expectations too high. Trying to say no, even when I feel obligated to say yes. Trying to figure out if finding a perfect balance is even possible.

…entirely too giddy about seeing Breaking Dawn at midnight tonight. (Don't judge me.)

…thankful for the success of a small crafting boutique my best friend hosted last weekend. Sweet friends, craftiness, muffins, and mimosas. Yes, I'm thinking we should do this much more often. I sold a bunch of felt wallets, eisley necklaces, and a few notecard sets. I'm thankful for all the people who took the time to stop by and support our creativity! (And I'm looking forward to adding the rest of the goodies to my etsy shop this week.)

…feeling incredibly spoiled after an evening spent being pampered with the lovely Katelin, thanks to the folks at Burke Williams spa. I've decided I want to live there. Amen.

…currently obsessed with the Frank Sinatra holiday station on Pandora, anything involving mass amounts of semisweet chocolate chips, trying to get Eisley to giggle (we have yet to get a full-on belly laugh), Suave Professionals dry shampoo, and Sister Wives.

…wondering who I've become, considering the one thing I really want for Christmas this year is a new vacuum.

…sleepy. All the time. More than I was when Eisley was a newborn, which doesn't make any sense.

…happiest on a rainy day. Spending a cozy morning with Jay and Eisley. Drinking coffee with delicious (albeit fattening) creamer and a hint of cinnamon. Staying in our PJs for longer than necessary.

…incredibly giddy about the holidays. I have a feeling they're going to be different this year. A good kind of different, because we have our tiny little family and so much to be thankful for.

on a wordless Wednesday...

2011-11-16T09:05:00.000-08:00

on five things I do to annoy my husband...

2011-11-14T19:28:00.000-08:00

After nearly six years of marriage, one thing you have surely perfected is pushing the buttons of your spouse. It's not necessarily a bad thing, either. As long as you keep it fairly light and in moderation—and as long as your husband or wife doesn't have a short fuse. Jay is calm to a fault. I hardly see him worked up, which is probably why I can get away with more shenanigans than the average wife. He, on the other hand, gets more than an earful on a regular basis. (Granted, the man routinely leaves toenail clippings on various surfaces around the house. I mean, honestly. I could die.)

Anyway, I thought I'd share a list of my favorite ways to (lovingly) annoy my husband:

1. Incredibly vague movie references.

I quote movies constantly, expecting him to know exactly what I'm talking about. The problem is that I don't quote normal movies; I'm usually spouting off lines from some movie from the 90s that only my sisters or best friend would have any memory of. I'll say something and wait for him to get the reference, and then finally say, "So…do you know what that's from?" He's started to just shout out random movies he knows I've quoted from before, hoping he'll magically guess right so I'll stop talking. Actually, let's see how many of you can get a few of my favorites (answers at the bottom of the post):

"Snakes…snakes…I don't know no snakes…"

"He's losing his mind…and I'm reaping all the benefits!"

"PRANCER lives in the SHED behind my HOUSE!"

"It tastes like paint…and wood."

2. My Creed voice.

It's no secret that I'm the world's last Creed fan. I'm sorry, but there's just something about "Higher" that will always make my soul soar. I will not apologize for this. Having said that, I do a fantastic impression of the lead singer, and (unfortunately) my vocal stylings sometimes make their way into many other non-Creed songs. Sometimes I'll be belting out something in the car and Jay is all, "Really? I didn't know Creed sang this song. Interesting." And I'm all like, "Don't judge me, Nancy."

3. Human blanket.

Yes, it's probably just as creepy as it sounds. This little trick can be accomplished in just four simple steps:

Find husband (who has been watching football and ignoring you for the past four hours).
Lay completely on top of husband (conveniently blocking his view of the television).
Scream out, "HUMAN BLANKET!"
Prepare to be shoved off the couch.

4. Overusing trendy phrases.

For the longest time, my favorite go-to word was "ridic". As in, "I can't believe the line at Ikea is so long. This is totally ridic." However, now I have taken it to the next level and try to use the phrase "totes cray-cray" at least once a day. As in, "Eisley took a three hour nap today—it was totes cray-cray!" I have a secret hope that he'll hear it so much that he'll accidentally say it at work or something, then victory will be mine.

5. Being a "backseat cook".

Up until I started staying at home with Eisley, Jay was the one who did the majority of the cooking. (And, actually, he still does a lot of it. He's just better than I am at cooking.) Anyhow, I've had to force myself to leave the kitchen while he's preparing a meal because I go, quite frankly, totes cray-cray. He's the messiest cook alive, so he'll scatter food remnants and dishes and spices and spoons and everything else within his reach all over the kitchen. It's my nightmare. If I do end up in the kitchen, I follow him around washing things he's not done using and breaking out in hives. Also, even though I can hardly remember a time he's prepared something I didn't absolutely adore, I hate watching him season things. I'll watch him put pepper on a salmon fillet for what feels like five minutes, and then I'm all like, "ENOUGH WITH THE PEPPER ALREADY." Needless to say, I try to stay away and just enjoy the food he makes. (And obsessively clean up afterwards.)

Okay, time for all of you to spill. What do you do to (lovingly) annoy your significant other?

The answers to my incredibly vague movie references are: Home Alone (I could quote this movie for days—you have no idea), The Wedding Singer, Prancer, Dennis the Menace. If you guessed them all correctly, you are my new soul mate.

on a few scattered thoughts...

2011-11-07T13:05:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I spend the whole day worrying about not getting enough done. And even when I cross most items off my to-do list by the end of the day, it still doesn't feel like enough. I don't know why I'm like this. The pressure I put on myself is almost crushing some days. There's just no way I can possibly live up to my own expectations, yet it's impossible to let them go.

Sometimes all I need in life is to organize the laundry into neat piles, all by myself. It makes me feel like I have at least something under control.

Sometimes I look at my daughter and I still can't believe she's real. She's changing every single day. And it kind of takes my breath away.

Sometimes I obsess over where my life will be one year from now. Two years from now. Five years from now. Tiny details, like what my favorite shoes will look like, whether or not I'll have learned how to be a good cook, how Jay and I will spend our evenings. Big things, like if we'll have another little girl (or little boy!), what street we'll be living on, whether or not I've accomplished any of my creative goals.

Sometimes I miss things like reading a book for hours, going for a run whenever I see fit, drinking a little too much wine, spending money on things like white chocolate mochas or the perfect yellow cardigan—without worrying about spending money I shouldn't be spending.

Sometimes I'll hear a song and it will sweep me up and away. I'll be seventeen again, sitting in my room, swooning over a boy who will never really see me. I'll be a little girl on summer vacation, sitting in the back of the car with my sisters. I'll be on my own for the first time, driving along the beach, full of wonder and hope about my new life in California.

Sometimes there are things I want to change about myself. My style, my hair color, the way I act around people I don't know very well. There are hundreds of tiny things I think should perhaps be changed, improved, better managed. But then I'll have a really good day and realize that maybe I'm doing just fine. That I'm okay.

Sometimes I think too much, worry too much, care too much.

Sometimes I'll have the perfect day. Like when Jay randomly finds $80 on the ground, when my hair is extra shiny, when I find the perfect pair of almost-new yoga pants at a thrift store for only six dollars, when Eisley is all smiles and no tears, when I am able to go to bed with a clean kitchen and thankful heart.

on a wordless Wednesday...

2011-11-02T09:18:00.000-07:00

Eisley, one week old, striking a pose. You know, the usual.

on my ghost story...

2011-10-31T08:42:00.000-07:00

I was seventeen when it happened. It was late, and I was the only one sleeping in the basement that night, as my sister's room was empty while she was out of town. I never slept with my bedroom door closed, but for some reason I had shut it that night. Of course.

It was around 11:00PM and I had just turned off the lights and rolled over to go to sleep. My bed was set up against the wall, with my feet facing my bedroom door and my head below a window. I was on my side, curled up in a ball and facing the wall. I've never been someone who can calm her mind quick enough to fall asleep immediately, so I know for sure that I wasn't sleeping when I first felt the presence—after all, it had been only minutes since I'd turned off the lights.

My eyes whipped open when I felt it. My heart started beating so fast that it was almost painful. As I lay there, I could feel someone standing in my room a few feet away.

I'm not sure if everyone else is like this, but I can sense when someone is in a room with me without seeing them. It's like the energy changes, especially when you're laying there in a quiet room with your eyes closed. I guess it's a "sixth sense" sort of deal. (Not the kind that means you see dead people. Were that the case I would be seeking INTENSE THERAPY.) Basically, if someone is in the room, they don't necessarily have to make a sound or be breathing loudly for you to be aware of their presence. And, of course, it's even more terrifying when you don't hear any sounds at all and simply feel someone there.

Especially when your room had been empty only seconds before, and your door is closed, and there is no way someone could get into your room unless they climbed into the tiny space behind your closet that held the hot-water heater, then managed to climb into your actual closet, then silently opened the closet door and made their way into your room—all without a sound, mind you.

I stayed absolutely still, staring at the wall. I can't tell you why, but all of a sudden I was certain I was about to die. It wasn't just fear, it was was the understanding that the person there was going to hurt me. I could feel them watching me as I lay there. I couldn't move, I could hardly breathe, I refused to turn around because I'd never been so terrified.

Then, I felt them move closer. Just a few steps, then another.

Before you think I'm crazy, try laying in a room with your eyes closed and have someone walk towards you. I swear, even if they're trying their best to be absolutely silent, you can feel them moving towards you. It sounds ridiculous, but it's not. I promise. Try feeling that when nobody is supposed to be there and you're all alone. And your door is closed. And there's nobody to witness the entire incident.

My entire body was rigid and my eyes were wide open, staring at the wall. I kept thinking, Okay, how am I going to get out of my room? They're close enough to grab me. I need to act like I'm sleeping. No, I need to act like I'm waking up. Like I know they're there. Like I have no idea they're there. LIKE I HAVE A GUN.

At this point, I wasn't thinking ghost. Even though it didn't seem possible for someone to show up without a sound, I was still thinking actual person. I didn't necessarily believe in ghosts at that time in my life, and the presence behind me truly felt like a real, solid human being. It was an actual body in my room, standing there, moving closer. And I could hardly breathe.

After a couple minutes had gone by, I made the decision to leap out of bed, bolt up the stairs and run to my parents room. I'm pretty sure I made it across the basement, up the stairs, through the kitchen, down the hall, and to my parents bedroom in one breath.

I actually went into my parents' room (at seventeen, mind you), woke them up and told them there was someone in my room. Although, by nature, I'm a little paranoid and scared of silly things, there's no way I would bust into their room at that age and wake them up like that without being completely confident of what had just happened. I wasn't someone that had grown up having nightmares or night terrors—I don't even think I was really scared of the dark as a child, so this was completely out of left field.

I hurredly told my mom that there was someone in my bedroom and I don't know how they got in there. My mom was all like, "WHAT." My dad was all like, "Mmphhhhblrrgghh." (He was apparently pretty asleep when I ran in to wake them.) My mom told me it was just a bad dream and that it was just my imagination, but I finally convinced them that I most certainly hadn't been asleep, and that there was someone in there.

After a moment they must have noticed I was trembling a bit, and that my fear was genuine.

My dad finally got out of bed, put on his robe and casually made his way through the house, down the stairs and to my room. I remember thinking, "WHY IS HE NOT TAKING A GUN, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY."

My mom did her best to calm me, and when my dad returned from inspecting my room, he assured me there was nobody there. It's crazy, though, what fear like that does to your mind. I kept wondering how the person had time to rush up the stairs and get out before my dad had gone to check my room. I kept thinking that surely they were still there. I mean, where would they go? How could they get away that fast? What? Why? How? HOLD ME.

Needless to say, I slept at the foot of my parents' bed that night. And I'm sure my parents contemplated whether or not their second-born child had lost her ever-loving mind.

I don't remember how long it took for me to be able to sleep alone, in the dark, in my bedroom again after that. I never felt the presence again, but for a long time I found it really difficult to fall asleep. I'd lay there, convinced they would return. Convinced I'd feel that same feeling again, of someone walking closer and closer—not having any idea who they were or where they had came from.

When it comes to ghosts in general, I'm still not sure what I believe. It's been ten years since that night and I still wonder what it was that visited me that night, and why they were there. Because there is no doubt in my mind that it was something. And I also wonder, had I not reacted with such fear, if I would have found something not so scary after all...something that wasn't out to chop me to bits.

I guess I'll never know. And, quite frankly, I'm not in any hurry to find out.

on my little flower...

2011-10-28T09:43:00.000-07:00

Let me preface this by saying that the whole Halloween costume thing stresses me out. I don't think I'm very good at adult Halloween-ing, because just thinking about coming up with costumes this year was making my hair fall out in big chunks. I haven't dressed up for Halloween since I was twelve (neither has Jay), but knowing that we had two costume-required events to attend this year made me realize there was no backing out.

Costumed we would be.

We traipsed around no less than four different stores on Wednesday searching for costumes, only to come up empty-handed. (I'm sorry, but as a grown woman with a small child, I'd rather not pay $45 to dress up as a sexy UPS employee. Honestly.) Luckily, Jay ended up coming up with a fantastic costume for himself after visiting a thrift store (he's going as an 80s rocker, complete with wig that makes him look totally sketch). However, as of last night, I still had nothing for Eisley and I.

I finally had one of those a-ha moments while thinking of the obscenely large head-flowers that I've grown to love. Therefore, instead of going to bed (as I should have), last night I busted out my hot-glue gun and got to work. See below for my quick-and-easy baby costume, a-la-Eisley:

(Kindly ignore the angry-face. I swear I'm not a horrible parent.)

supplies:

— hot glue gun

— felt in two shades of green (I purchase mine here!)

— a needle and thread

— obscenely large/adorable head-flower (you can find this particular one here!)

— a stretchy headband

— an old onesie that may or may not be stained and one size too small

— a small child willing to endure a photo-shoot while looking like a freshly-picked flower (sorry, you can't have mine)

instructions:

Cut felt into one strip for the stem, and into several leafy shapes. Add some stitching to the two layers of felt leaves. Hot glue the stem and leaves onto the onesie. (For the leaves, I just glued them along the middle line of each one, so that they could pop up a bit and seem more leafy. If that makes any sense at all.) Add some hot glue to the back of the obscenely large flower and attach it to the headband. Stuff baby into onesie and place headband on their round, little head.

Take a moment to say, "Sweet mercy! I just created a Halloween costume in less than fifteen minutes! Someone get me a glass of wine and four cookies STAT!"

The result? An adorable (and simple) costume that hardly costs a thing. (I had all these items on hand, which made my thriftiness do a happy dance.) Although Eisley wasn't really feeling the photo-shoot situation, I have a feeling she felt like the prettiest little flower in all the land.

"ME NO LIKEY."

We attended a local trick-or-treating event last night with a couple friends, and it made my heart want to burst anytime I saw someone point out Eisley to a friend and say, "Oh, my gosh! She's a FLOWER! So cute!" (One person asked me if I had gotten the costume on Etsy, which is the ultimate compliment for any crafty lady.) It was such a wonderful time, and kind of felt like our first holiday tradition as a family. It was so sweet to see Jay walk around, proudly holding his daughter and smiling every time someone complimented her. It made my soul happy.

And as for my Halloween costume? I may just grab some gardening gloves, a floppy hat, some seed packets, smudge some dirt on my face, pretend I'm a gardener, and call it a day. That works, right? Right.

(And, no, Halloween Industry, I will not be a "sexy gardener" just because I'm an adult female. I have standards, you know. Sheesh.)

on myself, eight years ago...

2011-10-20T10:09:00.000-07:00

"I think that I'm rather unlike most 19 year old girls. I don't want to be in a relationship just for the security or sex. I want to find my soul mate. I want to get married and have a family. Not now, as far as marriage goes. I know I'm young. But...I don't know. I just can't wait to find the person that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with.

And for as much time I spend feeling convinced that I'm hopeless, I know I'm not."

— written by me, at 19

on a wordless Wednesday...

2011-10-19T09:02:00.000-07:00

on month two...

2011-10-16T15:29:00.000-07:00

How is Eisley two months old already? (I'm sure I'll be saying the same thing as all the upcoming months pass by, too. I have no doubt.) To say she's grown up a bit in the past four weeks is quite the understatement. She's truly started to come out of her newborn-y shell and is developing quite the personality. Every day she seems to be doing something new, and her little features are starting to really come alive.

Here are some of my favorite things from the past month:

She is finally sleeping in her crib every night and for most of her naps during the day. We discovered that she is a belly sleeper, and she'll sleep for up to 5 hours straight at night that way. Gone are the days of cosleeping! (Although, truth be told, sometimes I'll let her sleep on my chest after the last feeding of the night, just because I feel like some extra snuggles.)
Speaking of sleeping in her crib, she's apparently learned how to scoot in her sleep, because she'll start out at one end of the crib when I put her down, only to mysteriously end up at the other side when she wakes up. Even if she's only asleep for a couple hours, odds are she'll have moved across the crib by the time she's awake. Kind of freaks me out, I'm not going to lie.
We're loving our Maya wrap! She's very cozy when she's tucked inside, and it makes Costco trips much, much more tolerable. (Except that she ends up covered in crumbs from all the samples I eat. I mean, what?)
She does all these new things that make Jay and I giggle: Rubbing her eyes with her fists when she's sleepy, sticking out her bottom lip right before she starts crying, waking up in the morning with the biggest goofy smiles you'll ever see.
She is currently rocking one ringlet on top of her head, a half-dimple in her right cheek and an outie belly button (the last of which used to stress me out, but kind of seems to not matter any more).
We are still squeezing her into newborn clothes, even though the onesies are more like curve-hugging bodysuits at this point. It's funny, though, because I had no idea we'd get so much use out of the newborn clothes we received! I'm going to be sad boxing up the smallest things she wore. Mostly because I'm emo like that.
Elbow dimples. Chunky shoulders. Double chin. I never thought I would embrace these things with such fervor, but Lord have mercy they are adorable on babies. Amen.

I noticed the other day how Eisley's eyes are the same shape as Jay's. And I think I'm starting to see little specks of brown, so I'm sure she's going to end up with her daddy's warm brown eyes. My mom still thinks that she has my nose and mouth, so Eisley is apparently going to end up being an adorable little hybrid of Jay and I.

(I can already tell that she has his toes and my love of musical theatre.)

On Wednesday, she has her two-month appointment, which means there will be shots involved. Which also means there will be many tears (about half of which will be Eisley's—do they give stickers to moms who don't bawl their heads off?).

We've had to deal with quite a few challenges in the past month (breastfeeding issues, her apparent refusal to nap some days, sleepless nights, and so on and so forth), but the joys have outweighed the frustrations, for sure. I absolutely adore being a mom. Completely and entirely. And I'm so thankful to have this little nugget smiling at me every morning.

on a to-do list...

2011-10-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

This week I will:

…enjoy and any all snuggle time with this little peanut. Even when she decides that a thirty-minute nap is sufficient for the entire day and I get absolutely nothing else done.

…perfect babywearing with my new Maya wrap! I want to use it at least once a day—even though the weather is supposed to be in the 90s on Wednesday and I will surely die a slow and violent death with a baby sleeping on my chest. (Are we sure it isn't July? Really?)

…add at least five new items to my etsy shop. At this point in the game, there's no knowing how much crafty time I'll have in each day, but I want to try and get at least one thing done each day. I need it to feel like "me", if that makes any sense at all.

…continue playing catch-up with my email inbox. Hold me.

…do one brave thing.

…do six silly things.

…rock the messy-bun without shame.

…talk with each of my sisters, who I miss like crazy. And also secretly plan a future where we're all living on the same street and everything is perfect and happy.

…decorate for the new season. Although I'm not really a Halloween-decorating sort of girl, I'm definitely all over autumn colors. I adore wreaths, leaves and pumpkins. And tea lights that smell like baked goods, of course.

on a little shop update...

2011-10-09T12:16:00.000-07:00

I've somehow managed to make some time for craftiness (in-between changing diapers, cleaning the duplex and all the other glamorous moments that fill my days). Here are a few of the new items available at my good ol' shop—more items coming soon, soon, soon!

eisley necklace, mustard yellow | $18.50

rosette earrings, teal | $12.00

rosette earrings, mustard yellow | $12.00

wall hanging, home sweet home | $10.50

wall hanging, bliss | $8.50

goodie bag, chipboard shapes | $2.50

various notecard sets | coming soon!

on a wordless Wednesday...

2011-10-05T07:17:00.000-07:00

on a birth story (part three)...

2011-10-03T08:20:00.000-07:00

[To read part one, click here; to read part two, click here!]

When it was time to start pushing, I couldn't believe my labor had progressed that quickly. I was truly expecting to not give birth until the next day. But apparently the wee one had other plans.

What I loved most about this part of the delivery was how intimate it felt. In my mind, I had thought I would be in a cold, sterile room with lights shining in my eyes, surrounded by a bunch of people I didn't know who were pretty much taking charge of the entire situation. In reality, the only people I could see at that point where the nurse (who held back my right leg) and Jay (who held back my left leg). It was like we were the only three people there, and although it was a rather intense situation (obviously), the fact that I felt so safe, comfortable and encouraged by both the nurse and Jay helped me keep my calm.

For the record, it was bizarre to me that Jay was just standing there in his jeans and t-shirt, right there with me as I was pushing. I think he was surprised that he would have a role in that part of the delivery, too, to be honest. For a moment, as the nurse instructed him to hold back my leg, we looked at each other and both had this moment of, "Well, this is…not what I was expecting." (I look at photos of my dad from when I was born and the guy was covered from head to toe in what looked like a surgical uniform. Including a facemask. And Jay wasn't even asked to wash his hands! Oh, how times change.)

Anyhow, the nurse let me know they were going to turn down the epidural so I could feel when to push. And feel it I did. It wasn't awful, awful pain or anything; it was just…odd. The nurse would ask me when I felt a contraction and then she would count through so I could get three good pushes during each contraction. I actually found it difficult to push, because even though I could feel that I needed to, and knew how to, I couldn't really feel the baby descending or anything. It was hard to tell if anything was happening, even though they had turned down the epidural. Also, the nurse would keep telling me to push harder and I felt like saying, "Well, at this point I think my face is going to explode. Is this normal?"

But I pushed. Through about five contractions. All the while hoping that Jay wasn't looking at my "situation" and henceforth destroying our marriage. (I kid. Mostly.)

The nurse informed me that the baby's heart rate was starting to slow with each push, so she wanted me to take a break. At that time, another nurse walked in looking very confused and told Jay that there was a priest here to see us. Jay and I were both like, "What? Who? Why?" And all I could think was, "Is a priest necessary right now? I mean, who called for a priest? AM I DYING?" But then we realized that it was actually just our pastor, who we didn't know was stopping by, and immediately felt a little ridiculous about our mild freak out.

All the nurses left the room to let me rest for a bit (although it didn't feel like rest) while we had a quick visit with the pastor. It actually meant a lot to us that he came to visit. He chatted with us for a few minutes, said a blessing and said a prayer for both us and Eisley. I don't think he realized that I was on the brink of delivery when he arrived, and I managed to hide it well, I think. Even though I kept thinking, "Holy moses, this child is going to come out, like, NOW!" But I didn't want to interrupt the Lord's Prayer. Because that would have been awkward.

As the minutes wore on, I kept feeling intense pressure that was getting stronger with each contraction. It was the weirdest type of pain, and I guess it's just something you have to experience because it's impossible to describe. Finally, I mumbled something to the effect of, "Um, I think that…maybe…I should start pushing again…ehhh…" Jay and the pastor were like, "WHAT? Oh, okay. Yeah. Let's get the nurse."

The nurse checked me again, and I think she was surprised with how quickly the baby was coming. At that point, someone went to get the doctor, and everyone prepared for Eisley's grand entrance. I think there were a few more people in the room at that point, but the atmosphere all around me was of pure excitement. It seemed like everyone was cheering us on and was just as excited for the baby to arrive as we were.

The doctor came in a few minutes later, I started pushing again, and then (to everyone's surprise) Eisley arrived only two contractions later. She was born just eleven minutes shy of midnight.

The way I was positioned, I was able to see her body as the doctor helped deliver her, which was truly incredible. I kept thinking, "Oh, my gosh. That's her. She's here. That's my little girl." She cried immediately, and Jay cut the cord. I always figured I'd be someone who would burst into tears of joy after giving birth, but my emotions were surprisingly subdued. I remember just feeling so at peace. Even though I didn't get to hold her right away, I was okay. I just felt like everything was perfect, and she was here, and there was nothing else in the world that mattered.

The nurse next to us announced that Eisley was 6 pounds, 2 oz. and 20.5 inches long. Jay gave me a kiss and squeezed my hand. We couldn't stop smiling.

The room was still busy around us, but the mood was light. The nurses commented on how well I did, and one of them even said, "Well, that's not fair. Your hair looks just like it did when you got here!" (She must have known what I needed to hear. I wanted to hug her.)

I can't tell you how thankful I was to be surrounded by people who, although they had helped deliver hundreds of babies, made our moment feel like a celebration. It was perfect. One of the earlier nurses who had assisted with my labor even came by after Eisley was born, just to see us and congratulate us. I felt like everyone who took part in our birth experience was a close friend, as silly as it sounds. I just couldn't have asked for better.

As the doctor was stitching me up, he commented on how he couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced such a quick labor with a first time mom. Apparently my body progresses incredibly fast and any future deliveries are sure to be even shorter. "For the next one," he said with a laugh, "you be sure to come to the hospital right away. Unless, of course, you'd like to have a baby in the car."

After Eisley was cleaned up, they put her on my chest. She was completely calm. We looked at each other and it was the sweetest moment. She snuggled into my chest, sucking her thumb as Jay and I admired all her tiny features and felt her soft, baby skin. She was just as I'd imagined she would be, and she was perfect. The little girl I'd always dreamed of was finally in my arms.

on my baby belly, before & after...

2011-10-01T08:04:00.000-07:00

[In labor, 39 w. 2 d. pregnant | Yesterday morning, 6 w. 6 d. postpartum]

Seeing my body transform during pregnancy was incredibly surreal. I remember the first few times I looked in the mirror and spotted my "baby bump". From that moment on, I was constantly stealing glances at myself throughout the day in everything from store windows to the sides of mini-vans in parking lots. (Yes, it was a slight obsession. I could just hardly believe I was pregnant half the time, and having the physical reminder was both comforting and thrilling.) Although it took a long time for my bump to be apparent to the rest of the world, I could feel my body changing every day.

You always wonder what it's going to be like, you know? Seeing your belly grow as the child inside you slowly changes with each passing day. What will it feel like? Will I still feel like myself? Will I feel different?

I know most of us worry endlessly about what pregnancy will do to our bodies. Extra weight, stretchmarks, all the lumps and bumps that we work so hard to avoid under normal circumstances. For some reason, I didn't let that worry get to me. I kept thinking about how if there was ever a time to just let my body do what it needed to do, pregnancy was it. There was always that worry of becoming a human blueberry, but most of the time I just giggled about it. In the couple years leading up to my pregnancy, I had managed to overcome many of my body image issues and I wasn't going to let my worry steal any joy from the next nine months.

Bring on the love handles and double-chins. I was going to take it all in stride. (And try my best to hide the chins in any and all photographs, obviously. I'm no saint, people.)

As it ended up, I really lucked out. I'll never deny that. Having a tiny baby, combined with the fact that I somehow avoided many typical pregnancy cravings and the usual increase in appetite, led to my gaining only 20 lbs. during the 39 weeks I was pregnant. (I take no credit, for the record. It was a mystery of science, because I had always figured I'd gain at least 50 lbs. No lie.) And having a smaller belly led to my also avoiding stretch marks—not including the one that appeared after the wee one arrived. Of course, I will never complain about that lone stretch mark, and instead find it slightly endearing. I imagine it being all, "Ohai. I'm just chilling here on your abdomen. Don't hate."

After I gave birth, I still looked like I was about five months pregnant for a few days. At first I felt awkward about it. I remember changing into my regular clothes before heading home from the hospital, noticing my still round belly. I looked at my mom, rubbing my leftover baby bump and saying, "WHAT IS THIS MESS." She assured me it was normal, so I calmed down a bit. I knew it would slowly become smaller and smaller—and, in a way, I started to get wistful after that.

It's like the last signs of pregnancy, slowly melting away.

About two weeks postpartum, I kind of adored what was left of my baby bump. I wanted to go belly dancing. Or just shimmy around a bit in front of the mirror. Mostly because it felt good to be curvy it a way that didn't include my stomach protruding a foot from my body. I have a waist! I have hips! I have a soft, beautiful belly! Hurrah!

I'm now back down to where I was pre-baby (just a few pounds under, actually—which I contribute to breastfeeding, as well as being more active). It's been an incredible journey. I feel like it was just yesterday that I was so anxious and eager to be forced to wear pregnancy jeans, and now I'm back to my regular wardrobe. My body has shifted and changed, but has also given me a healthy, happy little girl. I'm in awe of the whole process, truly.

I remember my mom always telling me about how each time she gave birth, it was such an incredible experience that she felt like she was the first woman in the world to have a baby. Creating a life, sustaining that life for nine months, giving birth to a tiny miracle, and then being all that is needed for that life to continue outside the cozy space it had grown within.

It's definitely been a life-changing experience. And as a woman, I can't help but be in awe of how I was created for this...as cliché and old-fashioned as it may sound.

Sometimes it's still so overwhelming to look at the tiny baby sleeping in my arms, knowing that without Jay and I, she would never exist. And that my body held her life within it for so long, making sure she was safe and sound for all those months. Magical, really.

on Eisley's birth announcements...

2011-09-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

I recently had the chance to work with Tiny Prints on my daughter's birth announcements. Want to see all the cuteness that resulted? Take a peek at my review blog!

In other news, I feel the need to share with the world that I ate a brownie for breakfast. And it was incredible. Amen.

on a wordless Wednesday...

2011-09-28T11:07:00.000-07:00

on who I am (at the moment)...

2011-09-26T13:12:00.000-07:00

I am…

…realizing that perhaps I should make an effort to do my hair more often, because (contrary to what I see in the mirror most days) I do actually clean up well. A head full of curls is definitely a bit better than a scrubby, fourth-day-hair, messy-bun.

…learning to function on the little sleep I get here and there. It's surprising, based on the fact that sleep is high on the list of my favorite things in the world. (Also on the list? Hanson, Olive Garden breadsticks and first kisses. But I digress.) And although I never saw myself as someone who would embrace co-sleeping, it's the only way I can ever manage to get four consecutive hours of shuteye. So, I'm going with it. For now. (Also, it's rather precious to have a tiny little nugget sleeping on my chest for part of the night. I can't help but smile.)

…hoping to reopen my Etsy shop on October 1st. Getting new items made is a slow, slow process these days, but I really want to start creating again.

…eating my weight in salted caramel ice cream. Yes, there is such a thing. And it is divine. (I found some at our local Vons, and it is the store brand. Now, go eat some and thank me later.)

…grateful for my husband's patience.

…struggling with guilt that seems to weigh on me, no matter what I do. I worry I put too much pressure on my husband to be the sole provider for our family, I worry that I don't show my appreciation of people enough, I worry that I disappoint those I love and admire, I worry that I don't do enough—or, at the same time, that I do too much. I know this is something that I've always struggled with, but it's somehow magnified at this point in my life. It comes and it goes, though, and I just take it one day at a time.

…having the worst time deciding on a baby carrier/wrap to purchase. Way, way too many options. Hold me. (And my baby, because I'm getting tired, yo.)

…feeling homesick; but, then again, it's always worse this time of year.

…ready to start decorating for the new season. You know, with more than just the tiny lotus bowls I filled with autumn-colored peanut M&Ms. (They may or may not already be half-empty. This is why I don't buy candy.)

…remembering all these wonderful stories from my past. Memories from all the years leading up to now—both my childhood and my more recent history. And I think I need to start writing some of them down. Even if nothing ever comes of it, I've always thought I should write a memoir. If only for Eisley to enjoy someday.

…missing being pregnant. It's weird, because even on the most difficult days I can't help but think about how I absolutely can't wait to have another baby. (I don't say these things out loud to Jay, of course, because he would have a stroke.) I'm thankful to have this time to focus solely on our first little daughter, though, and know I can't get ahead of myself.

…hopeful for the week ahead.

on a birth story (part two)...

2011-09-24T12:04:00.000-07:00

[To read part one, click here!]

Arriving at the hospital reaffirmed the fact that having a baby is so not like it is in the movies. Once we arrived at Labor & Delivery, I checked in and took a seat in the "waiting room". It was the weirdest thing. Nobody brought me a wheelchair to wheel me to my room, nobody asked how long I'd been in labor thus far, nobody did much of anything, really.

Jay and I sat there for a little less than ten minutes. I closed my eyes during each contraction, because it felt awkward having the seven other people in the room witnessing the whole situation. "Oh, hi. I'm just sitting here in the throes of labor. Nothing to see. Move along."

They finally called me back, and I walked to triage with Jay, taking a couple breaks as contractions came and went. This was my first interaction with any of the nurses there, and it was a great indication of what was to come. Basically, she was the sweetest thing ever. (I kept wanting to hug her, but felt that may freak her out a little bit.) She checked my vitals and then came the moment of truth: Had I progressed enough to stay at the hospital, or were they going to send me home (or, more realistically, to the Taco Bell drive thru)?

I was at 4 centimeters. I wasn't going home. This was actually happening. And it was time to be wheeled (finally, my movie moment, albeit not very dramatic!) to my room.

It was around 8PM when I arrived at my room. It was a large, private room and seemed cozy enough. I kept wondering how long I would be there. What is going to happen exactly? Will I be here until tomorrow afternoon? What are the nurses going to be like? Is my doctor on call, or is it going to be someone I didn't know? Do they actually give you ice chips to suck on? If so, BRING ON THE ICE CHIPS!

Little did I know, my time in that room would be far shorter than anyone could have anticipated. Eisley was going to make her appearance in less than four hours.

As labor progressed, I kept my cool. I had a new nurse—equally as sweet as the first one I'd met—even though she felt the need to ask me a bunch of questions when I was in the midst of contractions. (At that point, how important is it to know whether or not there is a history of gallstones in my family? Honestly.) She was incredibly encouraging, though, and kept reminding me that I was doing just great, and to breathe through the contractions. I hadn't taken any birth classes and was kind of winging it, so her calm demeanor and direction really helped.

Not long after that, I received some news I wasn't expecting.

"It seems your blood pressure is very, very high. Unfortunately, if you were planning on a completely natural birth, it's just not going to happen."

I asked a huge torrent of questions and expressed my shock, considering I'd never in my life dealt with high blood pressure. And then I cried. Halfway from disappointment, halfway from the realization that my birth experience was so out of my hands. I kept apologizing for the tears, but the nurse was very kind and didn't make me feel bad. We talked back and forth about what I had hoped for, and I explained to her that, ideally, I had wanted to make it through the birth without medication. She recanted her original statement a bit, and explained that I could definitely try for a natural birth, but my options for dealing with the pain of contractions were extremely limited. And by "extremely limited", she meant "you'll have to remain on your back in bed while periodically being told to turn from side to side to hopefully help improve your blood pressure".

My head was spinning. Being confined to the bed wasn't even on my list of "what ifs" to prepare for. The nurse left for a minute, and after Jay helped calm me a bit I realized that this was just something I had to deal with. There was no changing it, and I was still getting a baby at the end of it all. Her healthy delivery was the main goal.

As far as progression, my labor moved pretty fast. A couple hours in, I had gone from four to seven centimeters. The contractions were becoming seriously intense. Intense to the point where I kept starting them off with, "ARRRRGGHHHHHUUUGHGHHH!" and the nurse kept coming over to say, "Just blow through them, sweetie." Jay also helped keep me calm, stroking my back and saying encouraging words.

I remember trying not to focus on how frustrated I was about being stuck in bed. I had one opportunity to get up to go to the bathroom, and I then realized how much more tolerable the contractions were when I was standing up. Much, much more tolerable. Alas, I was guided back to the bed, at which point they strapped an oxygen mask on me completely out of the blue. It made me feel incredibly claustrophobic. That, combined with the intense contractions (now barreling at me every two minutes), led me to ask the nurse just how long it would take for the anesthesiologist to arrive if I decided on the epidural.

Which I did, about ten minutes and five contractions later.

Even though I'd really wanted a natural birth, at that point I really didn't feel bad about my decision to get the epidural. I kept thinking about how proud I was of making it to seven centimeters without any pain medication, especially since I was confined to the bed. Also, at that point, I was starting to really lose control of myself as each contraction hit me with more and more force. They were happening so quickly that my body had no time to recover from the pain in-between. And I didn't feel like I was able to work through them at all as I lay there like a giant baked potato.

Of course, once I decided on the epidural, I was terrified. I kept trying to remind myself that I was going to be just fine, and may even get to have a nap—which sounded quite delightful, even though I hadn't been in active labor that long. After all, it was close to 11PM at that point. And I like sleep. Don't judge me.

The anesthesiologist arrived and I immediately turned into a blubbering child. It didn't help that Jay wasn't allowed in the room while they administered the epidural. I remember telling the nurse, "I'M SCARED." And she was all, "It's okay. Just breathe." And I was all, "NO, REALLY. I'M SCARED. I CAN'T DO THIS." And yet she somehow was able to keep me calm enough to sit completely still through several contractions while the anesthesiologist worked her magic.

For the record, it's ALMOST PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE to sit still during a contraction at that point. They kind of take over your body. And it's terrifying to have a nurse look you in the eye as you're hunched over in all your deranged, pregnant glory, and say, "You can't move. This is very important. Stay completely still." I kept thinking back to all the possible epidural side effects that flashed across the screen during all the documentaries I'd watched while pregnant. I'm going to be paralyzed! My baby is going to die! I'm going to die! I'VE MADE A HUGE MISTAKE!

And then, before I knew it, the procedure was done. I literally felt no more than a tiny pinch and a slight "zing" down one of my legs. I felt a bit of one contraction after that point, then nothing else. I was in awe. I was also confused about the fact that I could still move my legs. The nurse gave me a weird look when I was all, "I can move my legs. Is this normal?" (For the record, apparently it is.)

After I was settled into a pain-free world of delight and happiness, the nurse checked my progression. Sure enough, as the nurse had predicted earlier to Jay (without my knowledge, apparently—or maybe I just hadn't been listening because I was in all the pain in the world), I was at a ten.

"ALREADY?"

"Yes, you're at a ten. Let's get ready to push!"

"What? How? Why? ALREADY?"

According to the nurse, getting the epidural had helped my body relax enough to finish progressing at warp speed (yes, I'm fairly sure that's the medical term). I went from a seven to a ten in a matter of minutes! It was a little ridiculous, as well as the complete opposite of what I'd heard about how an epidural could influence labor. (So many people are warned against them because they can slow progression. Then again, that could be more for people who get them early on. I'm not exactly sure.)

My heart was racing and I was so excited that it felt a little bit like Christmas, except with less clothing and a lot more fluorescent lighting. Jay and I looked at each other like, "Well, this is happening a bit quicker than we'd planned." And then they got me set up to start pushing. Which was completely and utterly surreal.

[To read part three, click here!]

on some analytical goodness...

2011-09-23T10:45:00.000-07:00

Now that I'm (sort of) back to (somewhat) regular posting on my blog, I thought I'd take a gander at some web searches that have led people (and creepsters, apparently) to my blog recently. Curious? Read on:

1. "my wishcake blob" (Would I be correct in assuming this is a typo? Otherwise, I'm going to need someone to bring me a plate of brownies ASAP.)

2. "should I feel bad for quitting Facebook" (No! Join the revolution!)

3. "cutest baby ever" (Well done, Eisley. Well done.)

4. "chartreuse pillows" (If you're going to have a pillow, it may as well be chartreuse. I mean, come on.)

5. "with a liberal guy" (What.)

6. "a monkey's wedding" (WHAT.)

7. "albino people" (Again with the albino. Can't a pale girl catch a break?)

8. "explain the colour of mandy moores hair" (I seriously get so many hits for searches regarding Mandy Moore's hair. Which is awesome, because she's my celebrity BFF.)

9. "people who look like monkeys" (Okay, that one made me snort a little bit.)

10. "italian greaseball" (I have no words.)

And as for the whole slew of people who seem to be spending way too much time online searching for photos of my lady bits, can I just say that you probably need to get a new hobby. Something like knitting. Or reading the bible.

Are there any odd searches that have led people to your blog recently? Do share! I find these things quite entertaining, obviously.

on a (semi) wordless Wednesday...

2011-09-21T11:09:00.000-07:00

Like mother, like daughter. Of course, she has yet to worry about bed-head.

on being close...

2011-09-20T18:00:00.000-07:00

Jay and I fell in love quickly.

It was only a matter of weeks before we were saying those three words to each other during a weekend away with a few friends. That night is still crystal clear in my mind—maybe not what I was wearing or what images flickered on the television screen, lighting up our faces in the dark. But I remember the way it felt, knowing someone so well without knowing much about them at all. Feeling so safe and content. My mind, how it was swirling with thoughts of meeting his family, marrying him, what we would name our children, settling down to live in a cute little house surrounded by pine trees.

I loved the way he had a smile just for me, the way he asked me hundreds of questions about what I liked and who I was, the way he would do anything for anyone. Silly things, like how he always took off his shoes when he was driving, how his nose did this tiny little twitch each time he blinked, or how on our first date he sang out loud to the radio without worrying what I would think.

I sort of always felt like he was mine, right from the beginning.

I never felt the need to wait any longer to tell him I loved him. Mostly because even before saying the words, we both knew it was true. Kind of like when we started talking about our future, or when he proposed only months later. It was like these things were already a part of our lives and we simply had to say the words to make them real.

One night, we were sitting together and I was sort of snuggled up close to his chest. His arms were around me and I remember thinking about how my heart was so full—it was one of those moments of pure contentment. The ones where you feel there is truly nowhere else you'd rather be, or nobody else you'd rather be with. He kept pulling me closer, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, my legs leaning against his.

"You're not close enough," he said, hugging me tightly. "You're just not close enough. Get closer."

I remember grinning into his shoulder, because it was a silly thing to say considering there was no way I could possibly be closer to him than I was at that moment. Still, I understood what he meant. It was like no matter how tightly he held me, it wasn't enough. We didn't want to let go of each other. We didn't want to ever be apart.

Every now and then I remember these specific moments and I can't help but ache to relive them. There's something about falling in love—with that person you're going to spend your life with—that is unparalleled. I'd give anything to be there in that moment, feeling what I felt, just once more.

It was a good moment.

on a birth story (part one)...

2011-09-19T16:04:00.000-07:00

On August 13th, five days before my due date, I woke at 2:00AM.

I lay there in bed, feeling remarkably calm as I tried to wake myself enough to start timing what I thought to be contractions. They were very, very weak and not painful at all—but I knew they had to be something, considering I hadn't experienced any cramping at all since the very beginning of my pregnancy (which had been one of the first symptoms of pregnancy that I'd experienced). After keeping track of the contractions for about thirty minutes, it was very clear. Yes, these were real. Seven minutes apart. One minute long.

Eisley was on her way.

I decided not to wake Jay, knowing he had to be up for work fairly soon—and there was nothing we could do at that point, anyway. It was kind of nice to hold the secret to myself for the next couple hours as I drifted in and out of sleep, wondering what the day ahead would hold. I knew I needed to get as much rest for what was ahead of me, but my mind was spinning. Is this really happening? What is Eisley feeling right now? How painful is this going to get? Will I be in labor for days? Is it too late to hire a doula? What if I need Jay while he's at work? WHY DID I NOT GO TO THE LAUNDROMAT YESTERDAY?

At 4:30AM, Jay's alarm went off. I was already awake and as he got out of bed, I quietly gave him the news.

"So, I'm having contractions."

"WHAT."

"Yeah, they're real."

"Are you sure?"

"Definitely. Yes. I think so."

Since the contractions were so faint (and far apart), I didn't have an issue with Jay going to work. He would be home by 3PM that afternoon, and I had relatives to drive me to the hospital if something crazy happened before then. Truth be told, I was looking forward to having some time by myself that morning…I knew that I wanted to labor as long as I could at home before heading to the hospital, so I prepared myself for the day—not knowing exactly what it was going to look like.

I never shared much about my "birth plan" with anyone except family and close friends, mostly because I had what I like to call the "anti-plan". I knew if I spent too much time focusing on exactly how I wanted things to go, that I'd be crushed if anything didn't go as I'd hoped. Knowing how awful I am when it comes to building things up in my head, I decided to just try and let it go. To have hopes, but not plans. To prepare for the ideal, as well as the unexpected. Surprisingly, I was able to do just that. For the most part, I think.

But I'm getting ahead of myself…

Throughout the morning I kept track of my contractions, and they slowly gained strength and became more frequent. I spent most of the day on the couch, calling my mom and sister, watching (but not really watching) anything that was on TV, lamenting the fact that I hadn't washed any of the baby clothes, feeling surprisingly okay with the way my body was handling labor at that point, texting Jay updates here and there.

It was kind of ridiculous, how calm I was. All day I was waiting for something crazy to happen—for my water to break as I made my second frozen waffle of the day, or for my contractions to go from mild to excruciating within minutes. However, even once Jay arrived home that afternoon, I knew I wasn't even close to being ready to go to the hospital. I wanted to stay home as long as possible (at the recommendation of so many people, and because I was so worried I'd be sent home because I hadn't progressed enough). And as the day wore on (and the contractions grew stronger) I decided I was going to stick it out for as long as humanly possible. Or until I started to feel like a crazy person. And, in hindsight, I'm very glad I stayed at home as long as I did. It was nice to have the day to be somewhere cozy, calm and familiar.

The afternoon continued on and soon it was evening. Five o'clock? Contractions were about five minutes apart. Six o'clock? Contractions were closer to four minutes apart. Seven o'clock? Contractions were getting painful (yet still tolerable, somehow). However, they were to the point where I had to blow out a steady stream of air for the duration, as well as pause where I was and act all ultra-dramatic like they do in the movies (except way more awesome, obviously).

We decided to head to the hospital at 7:00PM. We gathered what we needed, freaked out our neighbor by telling him we were going to go have a baby (I'm pretty sure he didn't believe I was in labor), and we were on our way. I kept thinking, This is so not the way I expected this to happen. Why is everything so calm? Why aren't we running around and screaming our heads off? Why am I not ready to stab things after being in labor since 2AM? OH, MY GOSH, I'M HAVING AN ACTUAL BABY.

On our way there, I asked Jay if he was ready for this. He just nodded and smiled. We didn't talk for much of the ride there. We just sort of sat in this quiet anticipation and excitement of what was ahead of us. It was so odd not knowing how it would happen, when it would happen, what it would take to get there.

I just couldn't stop thinking about how it was finally time to meet my little girl.

[To read part two, click here!]

on month one...

2011-09-15T20:06:00.000-07:00

I absolutely cannot believe that it's already been one month since Eisley arrived! Judging by our photoshoot this morning, she is quite excited about it, too.

(And, yes, I'm currently working on writing her birth story, which I do hope to post before she celebrates her first birthday. However, most of my current priorities involve baby snuggling, sleeping in two-hour increments and consuming more than one ice cream sandwich per day. I have to stay on top of these things, people.)

My sweet little girl has changed immensely in the past month. Actually, in the past week alone it seems she's been changing before my eyes. Here are a few of my favorite things (just like the song, only better)

A couple days ago she discovered her voice and started to "coo" when I talk with (well, at) her in the mornings. I like to think she also likes my rendition of, "Good moooorning, George, how are you?"
I love that each day she looks less and less like a newborn, and more like a real person. I can't wait to see what features she ends up taking from both Jay and I.
She loves her social time and is very smiley—especially after she has breakfast. I love that she is old enough to really focus on my face, and I can always tell when she is going to grin by the way her eyes turn into little half-moons.
In the past week I've caught her giggling in her sleep a few times. Each time it happens, I'm sure my heart is going to spontaneously combust.
During the day she much prefers to either nap in her swing or on my (or Jay's) chest. Sometimes she'll even holler when she's in her swing only to calm herself as soon as I pick her up. I love that she craves the coziness of my arms. And her favorite place to sleep is on her dad, for sure. It's absolutely precious.
She's finally getting rolls! Oh, the rolls! (This is very exciting, considering she was such a little wisp of a thing when she was born.)

I still have yet to come up with a nickname for her that doesn't have to do with food (my favorite is calling her "biscuits", mostly because I want to nom her face off) but tend to refer to her as "Eisley-girl" much of the time. Jay uses some of the same nicknames he has for me, which means way too often he's all, "Hello, lovely!" and I'm all, "Yes?" and he's all, "Oh, not talking to you." (Which I find both adorable and tragic at the same time.)

Sleep? Well, let's not talk about it. (Okay, okay…it's not that bad. At least she goes back to sleep after she eats during the night, but I would pay good money to sleep for longer than two hours a stretch.) I know that getting on a schedule isn't always possible at this age, but I'm really hoping that at some point I can have a general idea of what this little nugget is going to throw my way within the span of one day.

Jay's month home recently ended and he's now back at work, which means it's now just the wee one and I for most of the day. The first day was terrifying. The second day was bliss. The third day I even ventured out with her for a short car ride. Who knows what will happen tomorrow? We may end up getting pedicures and stalking Ryan Gosling in LA.

Only time will tell.

All things considered, it's absolutely incredible how much this tiny person has changed in a matter of four short weeks. And it's also amazing how much I can adore someone I've only just started getting to know.

on my current state of mind...

2011-09-10T15:36:00.000-07:00

The wee one will be one month old in just three days. Three days. I can hardly believe it, as I swear that mere days ago I was lying on my back, writhing through contractions and asking the nurse for the fifteenth time, "Do I seriously have to keep this oxygen mask thing on my face? Have I mentioned I'm slightly claustrophobic? Also, am I seriously having a baby right now because this is insane."

One thing that I greatly underestimated was just how much time in my day a newborn was going to take up. (It doesn't help that I've always put way too much pressure on myself. Naturally.) I know it's silly, but I had visions of my child sleeping constantly, giving me ample time to spend time with visiting family, enjoy several naps each day, post thoughtful commentary on my blog, answer the heaps of messages crowding my inbox, and, you know, do generally mommish things like starting a baby book, perfecting the art of the swaddle and learning to like black coffee.

For the record, I have yet to even purchase a baby book, my child is apparently too squirrelly for a decent swaddle, and I can still only stand regular coffee if it is equal parts coffee and caramel/vanilla creamer.

In any case, Eisley has been here nearly a month and I already can't imagine life without her. It's like she's always been here, as cliché as it sounds.

I'm sleepy. Very sleepy. And overwhelmed. And have too many moments that involve me holding my screaming daughter, thinking that I'm not cut out for this because I apparently can't even soothe my own child and WHY IS JAY SNORING RIGHT NOW BECAUSE GOOD LORD. Half the time being a mom feels completely natural, and the other half of the time I feel like a little girl trying to learn how to rollerskate, all awkward and frustrated and ready to sit on the sidelines so people don't judge me.

Luckily, all it takes is a milky, middle-of-the-night grin from my little girl to shake the self-doubt from my heart and overwhelm me with gratitude and joy.

And as far as Jay is concerned, he has been a lifesaver, truly. I start sweating when I realize he has to go back to work next week, which means I will no longer have him to watch Eisley in the morning so I can get a couple hours of solid sleep after a long night (lately, Eisley has taken to sleeping no longer than an hour, which is good times). And when I start to freak out, he won't be there to come in with his calm, collected ways, seemingly unaffected by a hollering newborn. And when I need a little pick-me-up in the afternoon, he won't be around to give me a mid-nursing-session ice cream sandwich or remind me of french fry baby. I know I'll be okay, but having him here these past several weeks has been completely and utterly fantastic in a million little ways.

I'm so lucky to have a husband that is such a huge help every single day. (Even when he passes gas into the couch cushions and blames it on the baby. We're not falling for it, guy.)

All in all, things are wonderful. I get weepy at least once a day (which I hear is normal) and worry entirely too much (about stupid things, too, like, "What if I'm holding her while walking on a cliff and accidentally drop her off the side of the mountain? OMIGOSH, IT COULD HAPPEN!"). But life is good. Busy, sleepless, milky, and covered in baby poo—but good just the same. Wonderful, even. I know these first weeks are all about learning how to be a mom, really. And I know that if there's ever a time to give myself a break (and be okay with not doing it all at once, all perfectly) it is now.

Maybe I should just count my blessings and eat another cupcake. And try out this thing they call "sleeping when the baby sleeps". Amen.

on a letter to Eisley (2 weeks)...

2011-08-22T20:10:00.001-07:00

Dear Eisley,

It's hard to believe you've already been with us for nearly two weeks. I feel like you've been with us forever—perhaps because every moment of our days are now filled with your smiles, silly faces and (of course) high-pitched wailing. You never fail to make me feel melty when you lock eyes with me, or when you pause to smile while you are enjoying a meal. You are truly the sweetest.

Your dad is head-over-heels for you, and seeing him embrace the role of "father" has been so wonderful. He has been such a huge help during these first days! He has already learned the art of the perfect swaddle, he is a diaper-changing machine, he wakes in the middle of the night to walk with you as we try to get you back to sleep, and he instantly lights up when he sees you in the morning. He has such a way of calming you when you're upset. He'll scoop you up and calmly talk to you in a way that makes you look at him so intently.

You are already a daddy's girl, and seeing you two together makes me swoon.

The first week spent at home was incredibly calm. You slept well, ate well and were an undeniable social butterfly to anyone who was around to pay you any attention. You slept in your crib for the first time, met two of your grandparents, had your first doctors appointment, posed sweetly for hundreds of photos, and made us so proud. You definitely surprised us during the past several days as you have finally found your voice and have kept us awake for hours on end at night! Still, you are as precious as ever and we are thankful for each moment we share with you. You are already changing before our eyes, and before we know it you will no longer be a newborn, but a little girl.

Please stay tiny as long as possible, okay?

It's amazing to me how natural being your mama came to me. I remember one night in the hospital when the nurse brought you back from the nursery because you were crying and couldn't be consoled. Immediately after she put you in my arms you were calm and quiet. You melted into my body and rested your tiny head on my chest. It was as if you just needed to be near me to be okay. As I held your tiny body in my arms at the hospital, I felt so overwhelmed and in love and...complete. That's the only way to put it, really. You have made our family complete. And I can't wait for all the incredible moments that are ahead of us as we continue to learn more about you every day.

Stay sweet, little one.

love,

Mama

_________________________________________________________

For more photos of the wee one, please visit this flickr stream! Posting on the blog will be rather sporadic for a while, considering my days revolve around breastfeeding, napping, trying to get Eisley to nap, giggling with Jay over tummy drums and exploding diapers, and other exciting shenanigans.

on the wee one...

2011-08-18T12:29:00.000-07:00

Eisley Kathleen has arrived!

August 13th, 2011

11:49 PM

6 lbs. 2 oz.

20 1/2 inches

Jay and I are absolutely over the moon. Our little girl is truly the sweetest newborn and we've been busy swooning over her for the past five days. I can't wait to share the birth story with you, as well as many (many, many) more photos, but for now I'm happy to take a step back and focus only on these first few days and all the incredible moments we're sharing together as a family.

I can't believe she's actually here. And that she's mine. I've truly never been so happy.

Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to congratulate us via email, twitter and elsewhere. I wish I had time to respond to each of you individually—but I hope you know that all of your well wishes, sweet thoughts and prayers have made me incredibly melty and thankful for each and every one of you. You mean the world to me.

on two more weeks...

2011-08-04T14:31:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, Jay and I were leaving the house to run some errands and a woman who was stopped in her car at the stoplight yelled at us out her window. "CONGRAAAATS ON THE BABY!" Jay and I kind of looked at each other and then at the woman and then sort of waved while we laughed at the awkwardness. Jay was all, "How did she know? Did she see the baby monitor you were carrying?" And I was all, "DO YOU SEE THIS SITUATION?" (Pointing at my belly, obviously.)

Yesterday, I fell over trying to put on some pants. I sort of lay there, crumpled up on the bed thinking, Well, this is new.

This morning I attempted to pumice my feet in the shower. I am fairly sure I reached some sort of Cirque du Soleil status in the process, except that nobody would pay money to see that mess.

In any case, today I reached 38 weeks and I can't help but reflect a bit on the past nine months. I've had an incredible pregnancy—I really have. I think that the joyful moments have far outweighed the ones that left me wishing for it to all be over. Actually, when I really stop to think about it, I'm going to miss being pregnant.

I had a lot of nausea and exhaustion during the first and second trimesters (and the nausea felt the need to hang out periodically even into my third trimester), and working full-time with a very long commute during most of my pregnancy was a huge challenge. However, I made it through. I'm only now beginning to be uncomfortable and feeling like my body is no longer my own (especially at 3 in the morning when I have to literally roll out of bed in order to make it to the bathroom for the fourth time). But, really, for the most part, I've lucked out. I've had no complications or symptoms that made me excessively stabby. Also, on a completely superficial note, I'm somehow managed to avoid stretch marks thus far…and now need to find a block of wood to knock on immediately.

I've felt beautiful. I've felt blessed. I've been fascinated as my body has changed, as my heart has prepared for motherhood, as I've been surrounded by loving and supportive friends and family. I've cherished the kicks and the ultrasounds. Hearing the heartbeat. Folding tiny newborn clothes. Dreaming up what she'll look like. Whispering her name like a mantra throughout the day.

Still, every now and then, I get this panicky rush when I remember that she could arrive any day and this time of blissful ignorance will soon be gone. Am I ready? Is she ready? Is Jay ready? Do we have everything we need? IS THIS REAL LIFE?

I definitely feel like she's going to be late as opposed to early, but I like to entertain myself with thoughts of my water breaking at Albertsons, making a huge scene and freaking everyone out. Every tiny pain I feel within my body makes me stop dead in my tracks and think, "Wait, what was that?" Every time my belly tightens I get really quiet and wonder, "Could this be it?" Every time I feel her moving about I stop what I'm doing and smile. Every time I look at myself in the mirror I think, "Wow, I'm actually pregnant. That's kind of weird."

You'd think at this point it would feel a bit more real, but so often it feels a bit like a daydream.

on some pretty snail mail...

2011-08-02T11:00:00.000-07:00

I remember being a little girl and my mom always sitting down with my sisters and I after a birthday or Christmas, reminding us how important it was to write thank-you cards for the gifts we had received. We'd each sit down with a stack of cards and efficiently write out our notes of thanks, carefully practicing our cursive and addressing each envelope with care. I love that she engrained that in us, mostly because I realize that it's a lost art these days. I'm always pleasantly surprised when a thank-you note comes through the mail for me—so, I love being the one to send out notes of gratitude whenever I have the opportunity.

As a side note, I love that Jay is the same way. He even asked me to make him some cards so he could write some thank-you notes to his coworkers (they recently threw him his own baby shower, which was incredibly thoughtful).

Now that I'm older (and life is slightly busier) I know I've slacked when it comes to showing my appreciation via snail mail. I decided to sit down for a couple hours yesterday and get started on all the thank-you cards I owe the people who have showered me with baby items in the past few months! I had made these cards a bit ago and was excited to send them out to brighten up some mailboxes.

My mason jar stamp is obviously my go-to craft supply. In any case, these cards are simple in design and very quick to put together, but still have some creative, handmade charm.

I used washi tape on each envelope to make each of them cheery and unique. Oh, washi tape, you are my BFF.

Also, I was entirely too giddy about these stamps when I saw them on a poster a while back. Um, hi? They are gorgeous and it may or may not have taken me trips to three different post offices before having the chance to snag a set. (I'm totally going back for more this week. Don't judge me.) I also love that they coordinate perfectly with the tape I added to the front of each envelope.

This pleases my OCD very much. Obviously.

My sweet friend Marianne, who threw my coed baby shower this past weekend, made me some gorgeous handmade thank-you notes, as well! I kind of can't wait to get started on the next round. Pretty cards make a task like this so very enjoyable.

on who I am (at the moment)...

2011-08-01T12:19:00.001-07:00

I am…

…presently 37 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Eisley is dancing around constantly, which makes me think she is just as excited to meet us as we are to meet her. I have a feeling that she is going to be a little bit late, as opposed to early—but only time will tell! I just discovered that I am actually experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions (I didn't know what they were supposed to feel like, apparently) and I'm secretly hoping that my body is starting to prepare for labor. I'm sure I'll post about this in more detail later on, but I'm planning on a natural labor and I'm trying to stay as positive as possible (mostly because I have no idea what I'm in for).

…working on organizing most rooms of the duplex. It's a process, for sure. But we have a lot we need to make room for, so we shall see! I've only snapped at my husband a handful of times thus far, so I'd say we're doing okay. (Poor Jay. At least our fridge is full of beer.)

…obsessing over cereal. I have one bowl every day as a fourth meal. Something ridiculously sugary is best (like Reese's Puffs or Frosted Flakes), but I do love me some Cheerios, as well. Mmmm, cereal.

…looking forward to hosting two crafty giveaways on my blog very soon! One will be featuring my sweet friend Vanessa's etsy shop, Artful Anthology (I adore her necklaces and baby onesies!). The other one will be featuring some of my favorite items from my own etsy shop, in celebration of reaching 500 sales (I'm so thrilled to have reached one of my biggest creative goals!).

…thankful to have such thoughtful people in my life. Two of my sweetest friends each threw me baby showers that were absolutely beautiful. I can't tell you how incredible it feels to be surrounded by such wonderful people who are so eager to celebrate this exciting time in my life. I feel like the wee one already has a huge group of people who love her to bits and pieces. And that makes me incredibly happy.

…watching Jay get more and more excited about becoming a father, and loving every single moment.

…in love with my newest ankle-hiding skirt, found at Old Navy (as seen in the photo above). It's the coziest thing I've ever worn. I want to wear it every day of my life. And maybe some nights, too.

…missing my parents and sisters now more than ever.

…feeling incredibly accomplished. Every single day I have quite the list of things I need to take care of, and it's been so freeing to know that I will most likely complete most (if not all) of the items every day. I'm so happy I've had this time to myself before the wee one arrives. I definitely made the right decision.

…incredibly encouraged by people who have true, blind faith. I've always believed that when you desire something and have the best of intentions, that somehow it will work out. Making this transition from both Jay and I working to basically cutting our income in half has been a real challenge. However, I have this peace that tells me it's going to work out just fine. My desire to stay home was completely driven by what I knew would be best for our family and for our daughter. Because of that, I have this peace that tells me we will be just fine. We may not have it all, but we have all we need (and so much of what we want).

…already looking forward to autumn, cooler weather and all the holidays ahead.

on mornings...

2011-07-28T08:36:00.000-07:00

Mornings are for waking up early (but not too early) while still feeling like I've slept in late (but not too late). Rolling over to Jay's side of the bed after he's gotten up for a shower and stealing all his pillows. Getting a kiss good-bye and an earful of silly words before he leaves for work. Holding my belly as I slowly wake up and feeling my daughter wiggle around, wishing me a good morning and assuring me she will not be making an appearance anytime soon. Feeling warm and cozy and grateful.

Mornings are for turning the corner from the bedroom to the living room and loving the way the light shines through the blinds so perfectly. Being way too excited about choosing from the five different types of breakfast cereal in the kitchen. Cleaning up the duplex a bit for the day ahead and reminding myself to take out the recycling for the fifth day in a row. Wishing I was the sort of person who drank regular coffee, just so I could enjoy the aroma swirling out of the mug.

Mornings are for sitting down at the computer to catch up on tweets, a handful of long-overdue emails and a few unread blogs. Taking a deep breath and writing out my to-do list for the day and double-checking my (now incredibly full) planner. Smiling when I realize I've sold something from my shop. Dreaming up new items to create next. Wondering how I'll have the time to do it all within the next few weeks.

Mornings are for calm thoughts. Bed-head. Hot chocolate. Wonderings. Important decisions, like whether or not third-day hair is acceptable for brunch and if I can continue wearing the same long skirt for the next month straight—in order to hide my ankles, of course.

Mornings are for hopes and dreams. Positivity. Taking the time to say a quick prayer about a situation that has my heart completely torn up in bits, letting go of the worry and acknowledging that not every situation is meant to be fixed—especially by me. Giving myself more credit while also reminding myself of my limitations. Deciding that limitations don't mean much, anyway, and to continue dreaming big.

Mornings are for feeling incredibly thankful.

on a little shop update...

2011-07-21T13:02:00.000-07:00

I've been a busy bee over here, working on updating my etsy shop before the wee one arrives. I have exactly four weeks until my due date, so I'm busting a move on the craftiness! See below for some new items now available at the shop:

leafy felt garland (3 yards), $15.00

lillianna necklace, $14.75

love in a jar notecards, $8.75

bag of quotations (25/bag), $3.00

yarn wreath, tiny bird & mustard rosettes, $20.00

All this and more, now available at the good ol' etsy shop! Thanks for taking a peek, friends. (Other new items are on the horizon, too. Stay tuned for more crafty goodness! I can't tell you how lovely it is to actually have time to update my shop every week.)

on a pretty centerpiece (take two)...

2011-07-18T17:26:00.000-07:00

So, remember when I used this adorable centerpiece to showcase some precious little succulents? Remember how I was all, "At least I know that succulents are impossible to murder and they pretty much live forever!" Well, they died. I either have a black thumb or when I was transferring them to the lotus bowls I didn't include enough of the root. (Again, why can't my dad live next-door to help me with these things? The man is like the plant whisperer.)

In any case, the succulents died a slow and tragic death and I finally decided to throw away the wilted nubbins last week. However, I knew that I still wanted to keep the centerpiece out because it's my new favorite thing.

I decided that since the front of the duplex is overflowing with flowers (thanks to Hunky Fireman Landlord—not my own doing), I would try placing a few of the prettiest blooms inside each lotus bowl. (My other option was candy, and I'm home way too much now to allow myself easy access to a bunch of Rolos or M&Ms. You don't even understand.)

So, flowers it is! And although this version of the centerpiece is much, much more girly than the first one, Jay hasn't objected thus far. And I kind of like that after a few days I can just go out and snip a few more blooms as the other ones get wilted.

What would you place in these lotus bowls for a centerpiece? Any recommendations for "take three"? (Which I'm sure there will be. I tend to change things like this entirely too often. I tend to have a bit of OCD when it comes to decorating…just ask the shelf above the TV.)

on words that make me happy...

2011-07-14T09:48:00.000-07:00

"Do you know what happens, Kerri, when a dream comes true and you feel your joy bubbling over into wide grins, happy dances...and the like?

Your energy actually spills over into the oceans of time and reaches into the past where it laps upon the shores of a former here and now, infusing a former unsuspecting self (who is still merrily living their life due to time's "simultaneousity") with a flash of inspiration or a burst of intuition; a hope for what the future might hold.

Whew...and that, my friend, is the truth about where dreams come from."

- The Universe [via Notes from the Universe]

on her name...

2011-07-11T08:03:00.000-07:00

Eisley: "cheerful" | Kathleen: "pure"

Since the very beginning of my pregnancy, the one girl's name that had been circling through my head was "Eisley" (pronounced "Eyes-lee"). Even when writing out a list of other contenders, it's the name that already seemed like hers. It just…fit.

For those of you who don't know, there's a band named "Eisley", which is where I first heard of this particular name. I have always thought thought it had the most beautiful, feminine ring to it. (And, no, she isn't named after the band. I enjoy their music, but if I was going to name the wee one after my favorite band it would have been something awkward like "Hanson", "Anberlin" or "Dave Matthews Band". Obviously none of those were going to fly.) When trying to come up with a name, I wanted something unique, but not so crazy that people would give me the stink-eye when I sign her up for preschool someday. Most of my life I've been obsessed with the name "Felicity", but if you happen to know my last name you're aware of the fact that my child would have the longest name in all humanity. As much as I still adore it (and as much as I still like to think I could possibly use it for another daughter I may have down the road), it just didn't seem right for the child dancing around in my belly.

Jay's favorite name was "Penelope", which surprised me because it's very quirky and unique. (When I asked him to give me a list of his favorite names, I was actually quite thrilled by his creativity!) I actually really liked "Penelope", too. We went back and forth for a while, but I decided to really fight for my favorite (not to mention shorter) name. Mostly because I felt like it was already her name, and I couldn't imagine her being called anything else than what I had been secretly calling her in my head for so many months. Also, I wanted a name that wasn't automatically going to be shortened into a nickname for more of her life.

So, "Eisley" it was. Perfectly so.

As far as middle names go, I had thought we settled on one a while ago. However, in the back of my mind I really wanted something with a bit more meaning. The one I had chosen before was short, sweet and sounded lovely with her first name…but it didn't really have any family meaning. Since we decided to go with a first name that had no sentimental value (other than it being complete and utter perfection), I started thinking more about finding a middle name that would really mean something. I love that my middle name is my grandma's middle name. It's like a little piece of my family tree that I get to carry along with me throughout my life.

Kathleen (more often known as Kathie!) is my mother-in-law, and the first time I put her name next to "Eisley", it felt right. Jay's mom is one of the most incredible women in my life. She has so much kindness, faith, joy, and love. I think that our first child taking a bit of her name is the perfect choice. Jay and I both love that we are able to honor his mother in this way.

So, Eisley Kathleen it is. And we kind of can't wait to meet this little girl.

on a new adventure...

2011-07-09T09:35:00.000-07:00

I currently only have one week left at my job. One week. One week. It's hard to even comprehend, to be honest. Have I done everything possible to prepare for this? Have I passed along all the information that is needed? Have I weighed all the pros and cons accurately? Am I ready for this?

Although I haven't told many people up until this point, the big news is that I'm quitting my job and will be a stay-at-home-mom from here on out (or, more accurately, as long as it makes sense for us to do so while not also having to live in a cardboard box by the freeway).

Yes, you heard me right. Yes, I'm aware that we live in Southern California and my husband does not have the income of a plastic surgeon or cast member on Glee. Yes, I know it's going to be a stretch, a challenge, a little reckless. But the truth is that I have this incredible sense of peace about the whole thing. I'm not really that worried. Which tells me the right decision has been made. I keep thinking of how this has always been my hope and my dream—to stay at home and raise our children once they came along. Granted, I never thought I'd be living in a place where it's almost unheard of to be living off of one income. But, still.

After we found out we were expecting the wee one, I had this panicked thought of, "Oh, my gosh. How are we going to afford this? How am I going to work? How are we going to find a daycare that doesn't end up taking most of the money I make? How am I going to be able to leave this child who I know nothing about, yet already love to bits and pieces?" Even though my expectation had always been to stay home after having a child, our current place in life made me feel that it was simply a pipe dream and I had to grow up and see the reality of things. I couldn't have it all, you know.

I specifically remember one day when I was talking with a coworker about maternity leave and when I'd be expected to come back. Even at that point, I had to choke back tears after even thinking about leaving my three-month-old baby with someone else. My heart was already breaking at the mere thought of returning to work. And I hadn't even felt the baby kick yet.

After that day, I decided to really start thinking about it realistically. Realizing just how much money Jay and I have saved up in the past five years of marriage—knowing that we have a nest egg that will assist in sustaining us if we need it to. Understanding that it would most definitely take some sacrificing, but being that we're not over-spenders anyway, it may not be as much of a stretch as I'd thought. Contemplating the possibility of investing all I can in my creative endeavors and see what income I can add with those. Remembering the times my parents and in-laws have talked about how they didn't have much money when they started their families, but that it didn't seem to matter—they were still fulfilled, happy, somehow managed to have everything that they needed.

And, you know what? That's what I want. Simplicity. Happiness. A focus on the things that truly matter in life. A heart that is filled with peace, knowing that any sacrifice Jay and I have to make is for the good of our family, our future, our daughter.

I've assured Jay that I'm not going to be sitting on my bum eating fudge bars and watching The View all day. (I like to think that he was already aware of this, but I felt the need to remind him, just in case.) The fact of the matter is that I'm going to take this opportunity to not only dive into the wild and wonderful first months of motherhood, but to also pursue all the creative things I simply haven't had time to do with my full-time job taking up all my time. I have so many goals and will finally be able to find the time in which to really succeed (baby on my hip or not). I want to build my etsy shop, sell in local boutiques, set up adorable booths at local craft fairs, challenge myself to create new and original items, improve my photography, create a portfolio, write a book, design an online magazine, freelance a bit, and more.

I know. I'm getting ahead of myself.

There's no way this is going to happen one or two months (or maybe even six months) from now. However, I have no doubt that once our tiny family develops more of a routine, there will be much more time to invest in all of these things. And I'm rather excited about it. Excited and thankful that my husband and I are at a place in life where we can make this happen for a while, at least. It makes all the sacrifices we're made thus far (saving as opposed to spending, not purchasing a home, taking all the hand-me-downs we can get, being smart with the purchases we do make, taking time to invest and know where our money is going) seem very, very worth it.

So, here's to full-time mommyhood, creativity and a few too many spaghetti dinners. Here's to living life with a full heart and a slightly less-full wallet. Here's to many new discoveries, lessons learned and living as simply as possible.

Here's to a new adventure.

on my perfect breakfast...

2011-07-08T08:05:00.000-07:00

Sometimes all you need is a mug of hot chocolate (topped with whipped cream, of course) and a piece of toast smothered in honey to realize that all is right in the world. For the moment, at least.

on quitting Facebook...

2011-07-07T18:47:00.000-07:00

About a year ago, I quit Facebook. And if I may be perfectly honest, I haven't missed it for one second. I think many people assume that since I'm a blogger (and slightly addicted to Twitter), that I should be all about every social media outlet. Well, I'm not. For a few reasons.

When I first signed up for an account, it was several years ago during that time when everyone was quickly transitioning their focus from MySpace onto Facebook—which was the latest and the greatest thing that ever existed, apparently. Of course, even then I didn't want to be bothered with it. It seemed to me that it would work best for those who either wanted to reconnect with friends from high school (I was homeschooled and my classmates were, well, my sisters) or college (I went to a community college, therefore I kept in touch with literally not even one person at all). However, I was swayed by friends who lived and breathed Facebook. I figured that since everyone else was getting one, I may as well.

So, I caved.

I logged on every now and then. Added a few photos here and there. Reconnected with a few people back home for all of four days until the novelty wore off and we simply remained conveniently tucked within news feeds and nowhere else, really. I'd get lazy and bored sometimes and would poke a few people for no real reason. I got brave and "friended" a few people who I only wanted to add so I could stalk their photos and status updates. (You know, that old chesnut. Don't act like you haven't done it.) I struggled with keeping Facebook exclusive to friends and family, but felt too guilty when I denied someone I didn't technically "know", so my list of friends went from manageable to pure ridiculousness.

For some reason, Facebook bored me a bit. I never really wanted to update it. And, at the same time, it overwhelmed me. Because I never wanted to update it, I felt an insane amount of pressure to actually log on and, well, update it. I always felt stressed when I logged onto my Facebook account because there were ALL THE THINGS TO CATCH UP ON AHHHH. In addition, I hated how I was completely drowning myself in these surface, shallow friendships. I appreciate you taking the time to say, "Happy 23rd birthday—booyah!" on my Facebook wall. I appreciate you taking the time to "like" a photo in which I look like a hot mess, which someone felt the need to tag me in for the fourth time. I appreciate you poking me when you apparently have nothing else to do online.

However, I was always left with that icky feeling of how lazy it made friendships and interactions with those you love. Not to mention those you didn't necessarily love, or even really like.

And it wasn't just other people—it was me, too. Facebook made me a lazy friend. I didn't like it. I know that some people break into a cold sweat when they even think about deleting their Facebook account, but I realized that my life didn't need 300 sort-of friends/people I once knew. I was doing just fine with several handfuls of people in my life who truly knew me.

Of course, aside from all those other reasons, my decision to finally cut all ties with the world's favorite social media outlet was based mostly on the jealousy. Oh, the jealousy. People never update on the things they don't want you to see. No, you only see their bright, shiny faces and their perfect lives. And immediately feel like your own life is basically poo.

Here are 615 photos of our BRAND NEW five-bedroom HOME! Oh, have I mentioned that I'm only 22 and have never worked a day in my life? And that I shop at Anthropologie every weekend? Oh, I also just found out that I'm pregnant with TWINS and my amazing husband just made me a peach cobbler from scratch and bought me a diamond necklace. PS: Be sure to check out the photos of me looking really tan and skinny from our vacation to Greece last week. PPS: I have really white teeth and my husband and I never argue. Amen.

Um, shoot me. In the face.

Sure, I exaggerate. But so much of what I saw/read/experienced left me feeling really bitter. And comparing my life to someone else's. And feeling like I wasn't doing enough, wasn't good enough, wasn't living an exciting enough life. One evening, after logging out, I tried to remember the last time I had experienced any positive emotions whatsoever while on Facebook. I couldn't even remember. It was just a constant string of jealousy, annoyance and frustration. Peppered with a little bit of stalking. (Obviously.)

That night I decided to de-clutter my life a bit. Why become so attached to something that doesn't offer any positive reinforcement? Why take part in something that just leaves me feeling like my life isn't good enough? Why let myself be so affected by a silly social media website?

I immediately deactivated my account and felt lighter within seconds. It sounds silly, but I haven't regretted getting rid of it for one moment. I have so many things filling my life right now and I refuse to let myself become swallowed up in something that leaves such a negative impact on my emotions and self-worth. I know there are people who are able enjoy Facebook in all its glory, but I know for a fact that there are many, many people (mostly my age) that feel the same way as I do. The constant comparisons of my life to your life to his life to her life...it's exhausting. Yet, we carry on because everyone seems to do so.

I, for one, am glad to say I'm Facebook-free. Kind of out of the social media loop, but still. Happily so.

A few people have asked me why there's a difference between my being on Facebook as opposed to being on Twitter, as well as actively blogging. However, it's hard for me to even compare them. Twitter is the simplest form of social media (in my mind) and, therefore, very easy to step away from. Also, unfollowing someone on Twitter (usually) involves much less dramatics as opposed to unfriending someone from Facebook. As far as blogging goes, the main reason I blog is for myself. And I can always step away from reading other blogs for a while if I feel those silly tingles of jealousy and need to get some much-needed perspective. Any time you log onto Facebook it's like an assault of updates and photos and videos and such, whereas if you want to just take it easy and read a handful of blogs for a few weeks, it's much easier to do so. I just find both Twitter and blogging much, much less intense than Facebook. And much more fulfilling.

So, that's my story.

(And although I didn't bat an eyelash at the thought of deleting my Facebook account, if I were to delete my Twitter account I would surely spontaneously combust. I'm no hero. Just ask Jay. He definitely judges my affection for what he refers to as "the twitters".)

on the monthly swoonage: July...

2011-07-05T17:05:00.000-07:00

1. I'm absolutely head over heels for the adorable items in ZUZII's etsy shop. Especially the adorable blossom headband, as seen above. Precious beyond all reason! You have to check out all the goodness available in this shop. One of my new favorites.

2. Are you aware that there are six seasons of Desperate Housewives available on Netflix streaming? New obsession, ahoy. I'm always fashionably late in my TV show fixations and always seem to wait until they're off the air or about six seasons in. (See also: Lost, Sex in the City, Grey's Anatomy, Friends, Jericho, etc.) In any case, it's kind of nice not to have to wait a week for a new episode.

3. Coral/tangerine/bubblegum is my favorite color combination at the moment. I'd really like to decorate the baby corner in these colors! First on my wish list? This adorable print from Hillary Bird's etsy shop.

4. I finally finished reading Live with Intention by Mary Anne Radmacher, and I absolutely, completely recommend it. My copy is filled with sticky-notes on nearly every page because I wanted to know what to go back and re-read or write down in my journal. Every time I picked up this book, my heart felt so light. Oh! And I finally got a copy of Tina Fey's Bossypants from the library and I'm already in love. I adore me some Tina Fey.

5. My name is Kerri and I'm addicted to mocha frappes. And I refuse to quit. Good news is that you can get a buy-one-get-one-free coupon on the McDonalds website so you don't have to feel guilty when you end up drinking several a week. You're welcome.

What are some things making you swoon this month?

on the baby belly (33 weeks)...

2011-07-03T13:38:00.000-07:00

Things I'm loving:

I'm finally getting comments from strangers about my pregnancy. A few weeks ago I received my first comment from a sweet lady at the laundromat. It made me so melty. I love how a baby belly can make complete strangers act like friends! And, in general, I've received such sweet and encouraging comments from people. I have yet to experience any unwanted contact from anyone (over-eager hands on the belly and such) and actually like when friends want to feel my bump. I don't mind it at all. I almost want to say, "Do you want to touch my stomach?" when people are talking to me. I know, I'm weird.
Jay has been super-sweet lately. He'll kiss me and my belly good-bye when he leaves for work in the morning. And aside from the cankle puns, he's done everything he can to make me feel appreciated, pretty and not ridiculous (even when I am ridiculous).
The wee one is moving a round a lot, as always. I have no doubt I'm going to miss this once she's born. Her little movements comfort me so much.
I have two baby showers to look forward to this month! One will be a coed shower, which I've always wanted to have. I know it will mean so much to Jay to have the time to celebrate impending fatherhood, too! And I'm so thankful to have such sweet friends to take the time to plan these showers for me. What gems they are.
With only two weeks of work left to go, I'm truly looking forward to actually crossing items off my to-do list. Hospital tour, setting up the baby nook, washing baby clothes, reading the rest of my baby books, writing thank-you notes, birth class (maybe?), and doing ridiculous things like organizing the garage and re-caulking the bathtub.
Apparently people love giving pregnant people food. This fact makes me happy beyond all reason. What? You're going to offer me half of your ginormous cinnamon roll? WELL, OKAY. IF I MUST.

Things I'm worrying about:

Sweet mother of mercy, THE HEAT. I have no words. Only emotions. Violent emotions.
What if she comes early? What if there are complications? What if my water breaks when I'm at work (30 miles from my hospital)? What if, in a fit of sleepy, grumpy, overheated rage, I end up murdering my neighbors because their ridiculous dogs bark non-stop for approximately 5 hours every day?
Figuring out insurance (I will have to change to Jay's next month). If there is any sort of lapse between insurance coverage, I'll just be sitting in an ice bath meditating for several days, making sure this child does not try anything crazy before I'm fully covered. Seriously.

People are right when they talk about how fast the last two months fly by. Before I know it I'm going to be sitting in the hospital, holding my daughter in my arms and wondering how something so perfect didn't even exist one year ago.

on expectations, realities and pregnancy cravings...

2011-07-01T18:45:00.000-07:00

(An adorable jar of pickles my boss decorated and gave to me.)

I had many preconceived notions about what pregnancy would be like. Most of these things were based on stories I'd heard from other people, things I'd read in my pregnancy books and, of course, basic generalizations that have been drilled into our minds from the beginning of time. Oddly enough, many of these things ended up staying as curiosities, as I haven't fit the mold of many pregnancy standards. (Well, according to the ones listed in my weekly read: What to Expect When You're Expecting.)

For example, I've never come across this "hearty appetite" that I've been expecting to show up for the past several months. If anything, I get full ridiculously fast. Mostly because the wee one feels the need to curl up around my stomach like it's a body pillow (or something to that effect) and as much as I'd love to gorge myself on a daily basis, I actually have been eating less than I did pre-pregnancy. Resulting in another expectation that ended up far differently than I had anticipated: weight gain.

I was absolutely confident in the fact that I was going to turn into a blueberry during this pregnancy. I had accepted it, embraced it, and was preparing to figure out what to do with a body that had doubled in size. However, I ended up losing 8 lbs. throughout the first and second trimesters (most likely due to having no appetite and a generous dose of nausea that continues to show up even now) and didn't start gaining weight until I was well into week 18 or 19. I finally got back up to my pre-pregnancy weight, and at this point I'm only up 15 lbs. from that starting number.

No, I'm not bragging. I'm just mystified. And pleasantly surprised. But mostly mystified.

One of the things I was most curious about were the cravings. What was I going to crave as the wee one slowly took over my body? Would it be something normal like orange juice, salted pretzels or ice cold milk? Would it be something slightly awkward like ice cream covered in pickles or hot sauce on a spoon? Would I end up being one of those people I judge on the pregnancy boards who claim to borderline want to sit in the back yard and eat dirt by the handful (apparently this happens)?

Well, none of the above cravings managed to show up. Even Jay has expressed disappointment; I believe he was truly looking forward to late-night In-N-Out burger runs. Of course, there are things that sound good, and there was that one week when I would have been willing to do inappropriate things in order to get my hands on a diet cherry Pepsi, but for the most part I can't really say I've had any definite cravings. I drink a lot more milk, and eat more fresh fruit—but I've never experienced one of those moments where I'm all, "GET IN MY BELLY NOW!" The only thing that I think is slightly out of the ordinary is the amount of McDonalds Mocha Frappes I've consumed in the past several months. But then I start to feel kind of bad realizing that I've had more caffeine during this pregnancy than the past several years of my life.

If the wee one comes out screaming especially loudly, then perhaps we should blame it on a caffeine headache. Right? Right.

There are also many other pregnancy "symptoms" that I managed to somehow avoid. Sometimes it's a good thing, sometimes it's a little disappointing. But mostly, I've been quite pleased with the whole pregnancy experience. I've been very, very lucky. (She's actually been thrashing around wildly while I've been writing this, which has been quite entertaining. Now that I know it's her teeny tiny feet tap-dancing beneath the right side of my ribcage, it's kind of hard to be upset about it.)

Being that I'm only 7 weeks away from my due date (side note: SWEET MOTHER OF MERCY, WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN), I'm starting to deal with a lot of the general discomforts: heartburn like woah, trouble sleeping, feeling completely exhausted, being out of breath after doing something as simple as washing a spoon, and, my own personal favorite, ankles that are swollen beyond all reason.

Jay: "You'd better get your ankles something to eat. They're looking hungry."
Me: "YOU'RE DEAD TO ME."

on some analytical goodness...

2011-06-29T19:05:00.000-07:00

Google analytics is always good for a giggle. I hadn't looked at the web searches that have led to my blog in a while, so I thought I'd share some recent gems I found:

1. "can i hang around the compton courthouse to wait for a friend who is on jury duty" (Well, it's always an option, but I'd recommend wearing neutral colors and not listening to Taylor Swift—based on my own experience.)

2. "korean spa experience" (Oh, yeah, that one time I was aggressively scrubbed to bits by a tiny, tiny woman.)

3. "albino people" (I'm aware of the fact that I'm pasty beyond all reason, but this just seems unnecessary. I'm not going to even tell you how many search phrases including the word "albino" led to my blog. It's a little depressing.)

4. "burn those nylons" (AMEN.)

5. "how to make curtains out of napkins" (Probably one of my favorite things ever!)

6. "wishcake calves are meatloaf" (The fact that someone Googled this made me giggle for a good seven minutes.)

7. "alfredo sauce can you put bacon bits" (According to my husband? Yes. According to me? Don't be gross.)

8. "aliens is taking over my body" (WHAT.)

9. "how to not have armpit pudge in a strapless dress" (If you find out, let me know. Because, honestly.)

10. "my god he's beautiful" (If you're referring to him, then I'd tend to agree. Amen.)

Are you aware of any awkward searches that have led people to your blog? Are you one of the people who found my blog through one of the above awkward searches? Do you just want to talk about the beauty of Ryan Gosling for a little bit? Do share.

on a love to admire...

2011-06-24T07:55:00.000-07:00

My parents. One of the sweetest couples in the world.

Married when they were just kids (well, nineteen and twenty-three), raised three daughters, moved here and there throughout Washington State, opened their home and hearts to foster babies, added two other girls to the family through adoption, survived many overseas deployments with the Navy and overtime shifts with the State Patrol, managed to tackle many teenage meltdowns with an amazing amount of grace, happily continuing to homeschool year after year, trusting steadily in God no matter what comes their way, supporting each of their children in every way possible, supporting each other with every breath they take.

I love that my dad still calls my mom "poopsie" and showers her with kisses. I love that my mom looks at my dad like he is her hero. I love that he can always make her laugh and she can always make him the best apple pie he's ever had. I love that I can't even remember a time when they didn't get along—which I know is almost unheard of in this day and age. I love that their marriage gives me so much hope and faith in my own.

I see them and all I can think is how I hope my husband and I are still so in love after more than 30 years of marriage. My mom once told me, "You and Jay remind me of us."

And it was probably the greatest thing a girl could ever hope to hear.

on the great couch shenanigan...

2011-06-23T08:05:00.000-07:00

Our pretty, new couches. Like butter.

So, this year, Jay and I decided that it was time to upgrade our couches. The ones we'd had up until this year, as seen here, were seriously thrashed (one was a Salvation Army find that was slightly shredded thanks to the cat we owned for a short time, and the other was found by my husband on the side of the road—no, I AM NOT KIDDING). However, they were both the most comfy couches you'll ever sit on/sleep on/melt into in your entire life, which is probably the reason we were fine keeping them for so many years. I actually wish we had a basement to put them in, because they're perfect "basement couches". Very comfy and best viewed in dim lighting so people don't judge you.

But I digress.

We searched all over for couches and finally decided on a sectional from Big Lots. It was in our price range and absolutely gorgeous. We lounged on it in the store and decided that it was perfection. Dark brown, cozy, a good material for the child who will most likely urp all over it hundreds of times in the next couple years, etc. We made the decision to buy it and placed our order that night, happily looking forward to a beautiful sectional filling the living room of our tiny duplex.

I wish that were the end of my story, but it's not. Let me share a few words of advice:

Don't ever buy furniture from Big Lots. They're highly unorganized. And annoying. And will keep telling you your couch will arrive the next weekend for 6 consecutive weeks until you go down to the place in all your pregnant glory and give the manager the stink eye.
Despite how perfectly you feel a couch (especially a sectional) is going to fit into your place (especially when it is quite small), deciding that measuring it is not really necessary is the actual worst decision you can ever make. Especially when it arrives at your front door and you realize that it is SEVEN FEET LONG ON BOTH SIDES AND YOU BORDERLINE PEE YOUR PANTS.
If a tiny old man named Edwin arrives with your sectional on the back of his ridiculously small pickup truck, you should probably offer him a glass of lemonade (and maybe some asprin) along with the standard tip. Even if he accidentally destroys your screen door and spends a good fifteen minutes trying to fix it. Because that man should not be doing any heavy lifting at that age, for the love of all things holy.

Once the delivery man left, I found myself trapped in a living room filled with four couches. (We had yet to get rid of the old ones.) I spent a full twenty minutes trying to talk myself out of the inevitable freak-out, then finally broke down and measured the length of the sectional. After realizing that both sides measured 7 feet long, I wept. And then I moved all the couches around trying to work a miracle. And then I wept some more. And then I moved the couches once more, thinking that even if there was only approximately 1.5 inches of walking space once the sectional was set-up correctly, that we could make it work.

Of course, I soon realized that within a couple months I was going to be so pregnant that I wouldn't even be able to cross from the living room to the kitchen due to the gargantuan couches blocking the entire general area in all their massive glory, which meant no access to my fudge bars, which meant this was not going to work out at all.

When Jay got home he tried everything that I had tried to do, but to no avail. We finally decided to basically separate the sectional and just have one couch along each wall. (Which defeated our original idea of having a sectional to make more space.) Consequently, something that I thought was truly a (very expensive) disaster ended up being just fine. I fought my OCD and realized that our living room came out looking quite lovely:

And we have already decided that the next place we end up getting will be based solely on whether or not this sectional will be able to fit correctly into the living room. Amen.

on being a mom...

2011-06-21T19:05:00.000-07:00

As most little girls seem to do, I watched my mom a lot when I was young. I memorized all these things that, to me, were the very definition of adulthood, motherhood, being grown-up. I remember thinking that when I was a mom, I wanted to be just like her.

I'd paint my nails light pink and make them click along the counter-top in a way much different than my own tiny, bitten fingernails sounded. I'd wear high heels and beautiful necklaces. I'd get to have a diet soda all to myself whenever I wanted to, the ice causing the glass to be covered in tiny raindrops. I'd know how to brush tangles out of hair without it hurting, would have perfect handwriting and would have a purse filled with things like tic-tacs, tissues, crayons, and band-aids. I would know how to make the perfect sandwich and pack the perfect lunch.

I'd worry about things like the weather, applying enough sunscreen at the beach and whether or not my children finished their vegetables.

I'd mysteriously know the lyrics to songs that came on the radio, singing along in a quiet voice. I would perfect the art of baking pies from scratch and clipping coupons. I'd buy delicious-smelling items from Avon and have the ability to do a french braid without the hair getting hopelessly tangled in my hands. I'd have dozens of lipsticks, perfumes and hairbrushes. I'd drink Folgers coffee every morning and understand what was going on while watching the news. I'd let the car keys dangle from my hand before walking out the door, always enjoying the musical sound they made.

My husband would call me silly nicknames and brush my hair while we watched TV in the evenings. We'd each have our own side of the bed, our own side of the closet, our own dresser—covered in various trinkets.

I'd know just how to make a the sniffles go away. I'd know just how to make a gloomy day brighter. I'd know how to read books in the most perfect, silly voices.

Remembering all these tiny moments (especially the ones that are from the mind of a small child—when the counter-tops were high above me and I could still be picked up for a big hug) makes me wonder what my own daughter is going to remember about me. What things will she notice and what things will she hope to do herself one day? What kind of mom will she see me as? What moments will last as she gets older and memories fade? When she is still small enough to be picked up for a big hug, what will the world look like from her view?

I've always wondered what sort of mom I was going to be. And, even now, it's difficult to really figure out. Even in those first days, I hope I'm able to keep calm and realize that it will all fall together perfectly as the days (months, years) go by.

(And hopefully I'll learn to master the art of the french braid by time she has a sufficient amount of hair. Send help...and hairspray.)