9.13.2020

in which we car shop with 2 young kids

Almost 8 years ago, we bought a CRV. We were newly married, I had just sold my Volkswagen bug, and we thought maybe we should get a bigger car just in case maybe we have a kid or something some day? That's what adults do. The process of looking for and buying it was so horrible that I still break out in hives at the thought. Thankfully, it has been the best car on the face of the planet. Other than a problem with the AC, it hasn't had one issue. I have driven that sucker all over the Midwest is Best and east coast. Last summer, when I got pregnant, James started making comments about eventually upgrading my car. I squashed it. I love my car! It may not be the latest and greatest, but it's reliable and we have a bond. 

Alas, the seed was planted, and I started harboring daydreams of a newer car.

9.09.2020

all I wanted was some frozen chicken

Last week I took my girls to the grocery store to grab a couple things we had run out of. As we pulled into the parking lot, Gracie told me Clara pooped. She’s been a bit Little Boy Who Cried Wolf about things lately, but I took a peek and lo and behold, she was correct. I picked Clara up out of the car seat and it was literally covering her entire backside, her sides, her front. It was on her forehead. There was a lazy river of it flowing at the bottom of her car seat. I don’t mean to turn this into a poop blog, but it’s imperative that you understand just how bad this was. I picked her up and it dripped all over my shirt. It dripped in my car. I gently tossed her on the changing mat on the passenger seat and took her clothes off. It took half a pack of wipes to clean her up before I could even take her diaper off. It was apocalyptic. There was an ocean of poop flowing through my car. Gracie was laughing hysterically while I gagged. This isn’t my first rodeo; I’ve seen my fair share of blowouts, but this had to have been her entire body weight. Not much can shock me anymore, but I almost cried. In the midst of this, multiple cars tried to pull into the spot next to me, just to get angry when they realized I was not moving anytime soon. If they could see the Mt. Everest of soiled wipes on the floorboard, maybe they wouldn’t have given me so many rude looks. 

15 minutes later, Clara was as clean as she was going to get given the circumstances, and we had somewhat regrouped. We walked through the store, grabbed what we needed, and hit the self-checkout scanners. As I was fishing for my keychain with my rewards card on it in the black hole known as the diaper bag, I saw a guy (who was, in hindsight, gasp, MASKLESS) saunter to the scanner next to me. I immediately recognized him as a guy from my high school. Gracie chose this moment to jump wildly, waving the small pink Paw Patrol balloon on a stick that I let her pick out and singing loud, made up songs about it. Per usual, she was practically begging strangers to pay attention to her/us. I shushed her/begged her with my eyes to please, just please tone it down for a few minutes. Mr. High School (HS) was still next to me. I was too scared to glance over and see if he was paying attention. He finally walked over and struck up a conversation with an employee. I started to relax ever so slightly. 

8.26.2020

life lessons from tomatoes, netflix, and how not to travel with a baby





I'm writing this post to the soothing tones of Million Dollar Beach House on Netflix. I've never been one to watch TV in the middle of the day unless I have a cluster feeding newborn, but this is in the name of "self-care" or whatever since I'm no longer allowing myself to eat my feelings so I can fit into my jeans again by fall (wishful thinking).

I had a shocking moment of unprecedented (sorry for using 2020's most notorious buzzword) alone time last week, saw the remote flirting with me, and before I knew it I was DEEP into Selling Sunset (how DARE Justin Hartley divorce Chrishelle). James walked in on his lunch break and got sucked in against his will. Now it's our the-kids-are-in-bed-let's-eat-ice-cream-and-watch-Netflix show. So here I am watching...what's it called? Oh yeah, Million Dollar Beach House. So far it's the East Coast Frat Boy counterpart of the Blonde Barbies of Selling Sunset. 

7.24.2020

currently, july ed.


reading: I'm Sorry I Missed You by Suzy Krause. It is delightful, but Suzy could write a chemistry textbook and I would find it charming. I just finished Beholding and Becoming by Ruth Chou Simons and devoured it. I also just finished The Giver of Stars by Jojo Moyes and hated it. I'm very much alone in my opinion on this, but you can't be a hormonal, nursing mother and read a book where a nursing baby is ripped from her mother. You'll be sobbing in the middle of the night. I feel like vomiting just typing that. This is the second Jojo Moyes book I've hated, so I'm officially parting ways with her. I realize that last book was more my issue than hers, but I am standing my ground.

watching: Married at First Sight and 90 Day Fiance. I don't know how I fell into the these dumpster fires, but that's what happens when you have a baby. I started watching everything in The Bachelor franchise when Gracie was a baby (I have since quit), and now I'm watching these disasters and then reading up on Reddit threads if/when Clara wakes at night to eat. I've also gotten very into car detailing videos. Things are weird over here.

7.13.2020

life during the ‘vid

Back in February, I sat in a crowded, noisy Mexican restaurant on a Friday night in central Illinois. I had just arrived to visit my parents for one last hoorah before the baby came. As I sat, 8 months pregnant and sipping on a forbidden-yet-yearned-for Diet Coke, I listened to my dad list his concerns about coronavirus. He has a big job in the medical field and is on the front lines of CDC mandates and policies and all that, so he was already laying down the ground work in his clinics just in case. I scoffed. As of that day, there were only 7 confirmed cases in the US. I trust my dad completely, but it seemed like much ado about nothing, and I couldn’t understand his sense of urgency. He implored me to stock up on food and to make sure we had the essentials at home. He even sent me home with a canister of powdered milk. I could not for the life of me understand the level of his concern; I told him he was being an alarmist. But in hindsight, HOW DID HE KNOW? 

That night will stick out to me forever. It was one of the last bits of normalcy in life, even with the mild sense of impending doom.

My baby shower was a couple weeks later, and it was the last time I was with a group of friends. I joked around with a few of them about how ridiculous the hysteria was and the run on toilet paper. What is there to worry about? Goodness.