My children have clothes. It's a miracle.
Oh Old Navy, how I love thee. You filled my allotted 20 minutes of shopping time with inexpensive items. You helped me find three outfits for $32 for my 3 year old, who loved them all. I love you.
And a special shout out to American Eagle for the free shirt my husband scored me, and the two other light-weight-so-you-don't-sweat-all-your-stored-water shirts. And for providing him with a great Fathers Day gift, which I would have been unable to get him.
OshKosh...you disappointed me this year. I got to pick three stores. You were a bit of a waste. We're fighting.
Kelly Down
P.S. It was really hard not going to every single store at the outlet malls today. It was also really hard not combing through every rack, every sales item, every accessories bin, but I persevered. With the help of my trusty side kicks Lady-Bug-Killer and Pip-squeak, and their trusty leader, Hermaphro-Daddy. It takes three of them to keep me in check.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Chester June Farrfignewton Neff
Our neighbors found two bloodied bunnies in their yard this morning.
And my heart strings were pulled right to them.
One was taken away by animal services, the other one they couldn't find. It turned up a little while later, and we offered to take it to Brett's cousin Ryan, a vet.
Come to find out, our little Chester is a Chesterina, and she's very engorged and missing her babies. It breaks my heart. My mammories sing out for her. I once went on a 2 day trip to Las Vegas without a breast pump (Brett does NOT count as a breast pump). It was PA-AIN-FUL. Poor thing.
So, if you're missing a bunny, we'll be having her shack up here. I hope she doesn't dry up from not having anyone sucking at her teets 24/7, but I sure as heck am NOT going to milk her. Even I have my limits.
Kelly Down
And my heart strings were pulled right to them.
One was taken away by animal services, the other one they couldn't find. It turned up a little while later, and we offered to take it to Brett's cousin Ryan, a vet.
Come to find out, our little Chester is a Chesterina, and she's very engorged and missing her babies. It breaks my heart. My mammories sing out for her. I once went on a 2 day trip to Las Vegas without a breast pump (Brett does NOT count as a breast pump). It was PA-AIN-FUL. Poor thing.
So, if you're missing a bunny, we'll be having her shack up here. I hope she doesn't dry up from not having anyone sucking at her teets 24/7, but I sure as heck am NOT going to milk her. Even I have my limits.
Kelly Down
Friday, May 28, 2010
The Passive Aggressive Is Loose
Being on "bed rest" (I'm using the term lightly these days, those my body is punishing me horribly for it) brings a lot of people through your home. People coming to visit, bringing you cookies and activities, playing with your kids, cleaning your house (thanks mom!) bringing you dinner...lots and lots of reasons. Or those who can't come over, but still support me by posting new born baby photos to foster my sick need, or leave hilarious comments to brighten my day, or just chat with me via IM.
And I love them all.
Every single one of them.
Sometimes, sadly, all the faces start to blend together. The faces that do stand out, though, are the ones who haven't shown up.
I mean, I certainly don't expect these people to be here every single day. Heck, not even once a week. Shoot, not even once every two weeks. But I haven't heard from some people, who called themselves my friends once, for over a month. Not a blip. Not a visit, a phone call, a friendly how-do at church, not a letter-carrying-pigeon, nada. It's very disturbing. It's disappointing. It hurts. And I guess in the back of my mind I had sort of held onto the hope that at least I had this one person who would help me through my dismal moments. Would provide me with good ol' laughter and much needed camaraderie. Would be here for me the way I thought I had been there for them.
Alas, I've yet to see them.
I guess it just goes to show: misfortune shows those who are not really friends. I'm disliking this trial even more. It's never fun to feel like you've lost a friend.
And I love them all.
Every single one of them.
Sometimes, sadly, all the faces start to blend together. The faces that do stand out, though, are the ones who haven't shown up.
I mean, I certainly don't expect these people to be here every single day. Heck, not even once a week. Shoot, not even once every two weeks. But I haven't heard from some people, who called themselves my friends once, for over a month. Not a blip. Not a visit, a phone call, a friendly how-do at church, not a letter-carrying-pigeon, nada. It's very disturbing. It's disappointing. It hurts. And I guess in the back of my mind I had sort of held onto the hope that at least I had this one person who would help me through my dismal moments. Would provide me with good ol' laughter and much needed camaraderie. Would be here for me the way I thought I had been there for them.
Alas, I've yet to see them.
I guess it just goes to show: misfortune shows those who are not really friends. I'm disliking this trial even more. It's never fun to feel like you've lost a friend.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Uterus, You May Have Won This Battle...
There have been times, when some poor, unsuspecting first time pregnant woman has let down her guard and asked me a question about being pregnant. Don't blame them, they're pregnant, they don't know they're talking to a dunce.
Anyway, as I'm sure all of you baby-pushers out there have experienced, sometimes I get asked, "How do you know when you're in labor?"
And I have always responded with, "You. Will. Know." Occasionally with the add-on, "When you want to bite your husbands nose off for watching t.v. instead of being down on all fours next to you screaming." Also a great sign.
So, there have been TWO nights now where I have been in that place. And I'm officially worried I'm desensitizing myself. I read a lot about women in my "situation" who ask, "How am I supposed to know I'm in real labor when it's felt like this THE WHOLE FREAKING TIME?!" And now I'm in line with them.
I asked Brett last night, in between death throws, "Are we just waiting for something really serious to happen? Like blood or a babies head popping out, before we let go of the pride and head to the hospital?"
He snored.
I wanted to bite off his nose.
I fall asleep. I wake up in agony. I fall asleep again. 2 a.m...3 a.m....4a.m....4:30 a.m. good morning stupid neighbor thumping your music like you're car is a is a freaking night club instead of the crappy 4 cylinder sedan it is...5 a.m....6 a.m...fast forward, 9 a.m. and we're still having contractions. Brett has smartly escaped my wrath and frizzled hair, has swept the children (and a pile of laundry) to my mothers house. I am here with my pillows and my laptop for an outlet. And you. You poor reader. Who get to read all about the going-on's of my uterus. Bless you. Will you take me to the hospital now? Much obliged.
Kelly Down
Anyway, as I'm sure all of you baby-pushers out there have experienced, sometimes I get asked, "How do you know when you're in labor?"
And I have always responded with, "You. Will. Know." Occasionally with the add-on, "When you want to bite your husbands nose off for watching t.v. instead of being down on all fours next to you screaming." Also a great sign.
So, there have been TWO nights now where I have been in that place. And I'm officially worried I'm desensitizing myself. I read a lot about women in my "situation" who ask, "How am I supposed to know I'm in real labor when it's felt like this THE WHOLE FREAKING TIME?!" And now I'm in line with them.
I asked Brett last night, in between death throws, "Are we just waiting for something really serious to happen? Like blood or a babies head popping out, before we let go of the pride and head to the hospital?"
He snored.
I wanted to bite off his nose.
I fall asleep. I wake up in agony. I fall asleep again. 2 a.m...3 a.m....4a.m....4:30 a.m. good morning stupid neighbor thumping your music like you're car is a is a freaking night club instead of the crappy 4 cylinder sedan it is...5 a.m....6 a.m...fast forward, 9 a.m. and we're still having contractions. Brett has smartly escaped my wrath and frizzled hair, has swept the children (and a pile of laundry) to my mothers house. I am here with my pillows and my laptop for an outlet. And you. You poor reader. Who get to read all about the going-on's of my uterus. Bless you. Will you take me to the hospital now? Much obliged.
Kelly Down
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Freaking Blog
I need someone with talent, who isn't color blind like me, to re-design my blog. Usually Brett plays along and does it all for me, but he's preoccupied with being hermaphro-daddy right now.
Lame.
I'm not good at colors, or matching, or creating, or cooking, or...wait, that has nothing to do with the blog. That's another list for another time. Haha.
Anywho...bear with me while I attempt to spice it up around here...
Kelly Down
Lame.
I'm not good at colors, or matching, or creating, or cooking, or...wait, that has nothing to do with the blog. That's another list for another time. Haha.
Anywho...bear with me while I attempt to spice it up around here...
Kelly Down
Verdict
I'm in my 15-year-old mind set. Proceed with caution.
So, at first, I was like, "Marlon Brando, YUMMY!" And then I was all, "Vivien Leigh, what happened to you girl?" And then I was all, "Euw, Marlon Brando, what happened to you boy? Did you bite your tongue? Take your shirt off again, please."
So, at first, I was like, "Marlon Brando, YUMMY!" And then I was all, "Vivien Leigh, what happened to you girl?" And then I was all, "Euw, Marlon Brando, what happened to you boy? Did you bite your tongue? Take your shirt off again, please."
I loved it. It was hard to watch Stella being stupid. It was hard to watch Blanche suffer in denial, lie, and collapse. It was easy to watch Stanley take off his shirt a few times, but hard to hear him talk. And Mitch can suck on a dirty sock for all I care.
What an ending. I knew it was coming, thanks to The Simpsons. Ned Flanders and Marlon Brando went head to head as the All American Polish Wife Beater, and I have to say, Marlon Brando won. Sorry Ned. It was the mustache.
Marlon
Ned
Marlon
(Wouldn't he have made an excellent Edward Cullen? All broody and yummy. And he doesn't look like he's been running face first into brick walls. No offense Robert. Well...some offense.)
Kelly Out
Stellllllllaaaaa!!
I'm about to watch "A Streetcar Named Desire" for the first time. I figure it's time I stop getting all my culture from The Simpsons (and all my political knowledge from The Family Guy.)
But can Marlon Brando live up to Ned Flanders "Stanley"? I don't know. I just. Don't. Know.
Kelly Out
But can Marlon Brando live up to Ned Flanders "Stanley"? I don't know. I just. Don't. Know.
Kelly Out
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Oh. My. Gosh.
This post is more for me, so that I have a permanent link, but I thought I'd also share the fat...erm...the deliciousness. Brett has been ordered to the grocery store to acquire the necessary items to provide me with these. Post Haste.
Panko Mozerella Sticks
Kelly Hungry for Mozzarella Sticks
Panko Mozerella Sticks
Kelly Hungry for Mozzarella Sticks
One "Endure to the End"? Yes Please!
I think time could take a tip or two from the movies. A vagrant can become a polished socialite in under 3 minutes. All it takes is a montage of scenes passing by with a lovely background song, then BAM! All cleaned up and ready for the ball. I could use myself one of those montages...
Brett and I have decided that bed rest is an endurance trial. Not like patience. You know when you get down on your knees, all humble and ready to grow and learn, and you do the dumbest thing you could do and pray for patience? And then the rain starts falling, and the food starts flying, and the cats are shedding like mad and the breaks go out...
That's the thing with prayer: you get what you ask for. Most of the time.
Anywho, back to endurance. Yes, bed rest is an endurance trial. I was thinking of all the pregnancy complications that we could be suffering with, this is the least dangerous. In my mind. I'm not in real danger (except the danger of going insane and getting horribly fat!) and the baby isn't in horrible danger (until these contractions start making progress.) But in all reality, we're both healthy, we're both growing, we're both putting on fat every day. And while my breathing decreases, hers increases. We're at 25 weeks. Every day gets us closer to the day that she can come safely. And I can walk without wincing in pain. I just have to endure to the end.
I've always been blessed with a foresight. One day I'm going to appreciate all this time I've had down. All this resting time. All this alone time. And that day is closer to me than I realize. When she comes, life will go back to that crazy, hectic, patience testing way it was before. When I had to do the dishes and the laundry and the vacuuming and other duties befitting my wifely status. When endurance means only making it to the end of the day without losing my mind or any of my children.
In the meantime, I'm a slave to my body. When it demands I go down, I go down. I don't argue. I don't fight it. Okay, I do fight it. But I think I've learned my lesson in that respect (the fabric store is just not worth going into near labor and wishing for death). Nights are getting rougher and full of waking up and debating "Do I go in? Do I tough it out?" So far I've toughed it out. I'm a warrior. (I'm also really cheap, and if I can save us another doctors bill, I can be any warrior you want me to be, baby.)
And the best part of enduring to the end with this trial: I have a date. A definite date. That helps when I'm allotting sanity time slots...
Kelly Down
Brett and I have decided that bed rest is an endurance trial. Not like patience. You know when you get down on your knees, all humble and ready to grow and learn, and you do the dumbest thing you could do and pray for patience? And then the rain starts falling, and the food starts flying, and the cats are shedding like mad and the breaks go out...
That's the thing with prayer: you get what you ask for. Most of the time.
Anywho, back to endurance. Yes, bed rest is an endurance trial. I was thinking of all the pregnancy complications that we could be suffering with, this is the least dangerous. In my mind. I'm not in real danger (except the danger of going insane and getting horribly fat!) and the baby isn't in horrible danger (until these contractions start making progress.) But in all reality, we're both healthy, we're both growing, we're both putting on fat every day. And while my breathing decreases, hers increases. We're at 25 weeks. Every day gets us closer to the day that she can come safely. And I can walk without wincing in pain. I just have to endure to the end.
I've always been blessed with a foresight. One day I'm going to appreciate all this time I've had down. All this resting time. All this alone time. And that day is closer to me than I realize. When she comes, life will go back to that crazy, hectic, patience testing way it was before. When I had to do the dishes and the laundry and the vacuuming and other duties befitting my wifely status. When endurance means only making it to the end of the day without losing my mind or any of my children.
In the meantime, I'm a slave to my body. When it demands I go down, I go down. I don't argue. I don't fight it. Okay, I do fight it. But I think I've learned my lesson in that respect (the fabric store is just not worth going into near labor and wishing for death). Nights are getting rougher and full of waking up and debating "Do I go in? Do I tough it out?" So far I've toughed it out. I'm a warrior. (I'm also really cheap, and if I can save us another doctors bill, I can be any warrior you want me to be, baby.)
And the best part of enduring to the end with this trial: I have a date. A definite date. That helps when I'm allotting sanity time slots...
Kelly Down
Wha...Huh?...
No PostIt Note Tuesday today.
I'm too tired.
And exhausted.
And annihilated.
I'm running on the small amount of fuel my bowl of raisin bran is providing. Once that's out, not even a recalled Toyota could keep me going.
I love you all! Goodnight Chicago!
Kelly Down
I'm too tired.
And exhausted.
And annihilated.
I'm running on the small amount of fuel my bowl of raisin bran is providing. Once that's out, not even a recalled Toyota could keep me going.
I love you all! Goodnight Chicago!
Kelly Down
Thursday, May 20, 2010
After Last Night...
I'm stalking new born baby photos, mine and all of yours, to remind me to stick it out.
Okay, I don't need a reminder.
I need a morphine drip.
I need an epidural.
I need some Olive Garden.
I can feel limbs. That's a leg or an arm, that's an elbow or a knee, that's an entire 1.5 lb baby resting on my bladder =) Oh the joys. I can't wait to lotion those limbs. And liberate my bladder.
Brett and I have abandoned the original due date, and are instead focusing on August 15th. The day I get off bed rest. The day all bets are off. The day she can safely come into this world. The day we can make these contractions count! Woo hoo! That's only like...12 weeks away! Woo hoo!
Kelly Down
Okay, I don't need a reminder.
I need a morphine drip.
I need an epidural.
I need some Olive Garden.
I can feel limbs. That's a leg or an arm, that's an elbow or a knee, that's an entire 1.5 lb baby resting on my bladder =) Oh the joys. I can't wait to lotion those limbs. And liberate my bladder.
Brett and I have abandoned the original due date, and are instead focusing on August 15th. The day I get off bed rest. The day all bets are off. The day she can safely come into this world. The day we can make these contractions count! Woo hoo! That's only like...12 weeks away! Woo hoo!
Kelly Down
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Brrrrrrrr
I am really cold today.
And it's really uncomfortable, if you get my drift.
Just one of the many perks *hyuck hyuck* of being pregnant.
Don't touch them, don't look at them! Brett, I'm talkin' to you...
I can't exactly point out where the cold draft is coming from, but it's really making things hard.
Okay, I'm obviously in desperate need of a distraction that doesn't include me moving my shoulders to aim at things with my milkers while singing, "These boobs were made for shooting, and that's just what they'll do..."
Kelly Down
And it's really uncomfortable, if you get my drift.
Just one of the many perks *hyuck hyuck* of being pregnant.
Don't touch them, don't look at them! Brett, I'm talkin' to you...
I can't exactly point out where the cold draft is coming from, but it's really making things hard.
Okay, I'm obviously in desperate need of a distraction that doesn't include me moving my shoulders to aim at things with my milkers while singing, "These boobs were made for shooting, and that's just what they'll do..."
Kelly Down
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
What The.....
How do I explain this?....
There was some...thing, some body part pushing hard and stretching my uterus, causing a seriously painful contraction. I pushed said body-part-thing down, and moved the entire baby. VEEEEEEERRRY weird feeling. I hope I didn't hurt her.
Lucky for me, she won't remember.
Lucky for me, the contraction wasn't nearly as painful once she moved.
Few.
On a the bright side, Saturday marked THREE MONTHS until "all bets are off". The countdown continues...tick...tick...tick...tock...stupid clock.
Kelly Down
There was some...thing, some body part pushing hard and stretching my uterus, causing a seriously painful contraction. I pushed said body-part-thing down, and moved the entire baby. VEEEEEEERRRY weird feeling. I hope I didn't hurt her.
Lucky for me, she won't remember.
Lucky for me, the contraction wasn't nearly as painful once she moved.
Few.
On a the bright side, Saturday marked THREE MONTHS until "all bets are off". The countdown continues...tick...tick...tick...tock...stupid clock.
Kelly Down
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Why I Haven't Been Blogging
Idle hands are the devil's play things.
I always thought Kembry was the devil's play thing.
Anywho...
Nothing has changed in my pitiful life. Kidding, it's not pitiful, it's just...stagnate. I sit. I crochet. I watch bad day time t.v. and wish for a quick death. I read your blogs, so keep on keepin' on. Please.
So, here are a few other things that have kept me busy. They're not great, but to keep our ears warm, I think they'll do.
What do you think of my little model? She picked out the purple for her headband. She was very excited.
This is one of those headbands that you tie behind your head, so you can actually wear it while your hair is down. Who knew? I have a couple other projects on the burner (something called a scarflette. I liked the name, and started one...I don't understand the inner workings of my brain), but my not-so-funny-funny-bone is acting up, so I'm gonna take a rest for a few days. I may go insane. We shall see.
Kelly still Down
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Blubber Blubber Blip Blip
I. Am. Bored.
And who gets to suffer from my boredom more than you, poor reader?
I can tell you that I own 174 movies. And I don't want to watch any of them.
I can tell you that the clock over our fireplace ticks forward 4 seconds, back one. Forward 4, back one.
Sick clock.
Sick, sick, evil, clock.
I can tell you that I get hungry at 7 a.m., 9 a.m., 10:30 a.m., 11 a.m., well, you get the idea.
I can tell you that I am exhausted, I have plenty of time to sleep, but I really don't want to. I want to ride a roller coaster. And eat a churro. And pee in a public bathroom. It's that serious.
I miss IKEA and pointless shopping.
I miss bending over and standing up without agonizing pain.
I miss...I miss...I miss.
And my husband misses the house fairy. I miss her too.
Kelly Down
And who gets to suffer from my boredom more than you, poor reader?
I can tell you that I own 174 movies. And I don't want to watch any of them.
I can tell you that the clock over our fireplace ticks forward 4 seconds, back one. Forward 4, back one.
Sick clock.
Sick, sick, evil, clock.
I can tell you that I get hungry at 7 a.m., 9 a.m., 10:30 a.m., 11 a.m., well, you get the idea.
I can tell you that I am exhausted, I have plenty of time to sleep, but I really don't want to. I want to ride a roller coaster. And eat a churro. And pee in a public bathroom. It's that serious.
I miss IKEA and pointless shopping.
I miss bending over and standing up without agonizing pain.
I miss...I miss...I miss.
And my husband misses the house fairy. I miss her too.
Kelly Down
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
She Can Be Taught: Take II
When you have time on your hands - and I mean time - you find different ways to keep busy. You read, you paint your nails, you watch your ankles swell, you draw up blueprints for a machine that speeds up time, and you crochet.
Kembry is convinced this hat now belongs to her baby doll. How do you explain to a 3 year old girl that you just need a head with which to measure? Well, you don't. You just lie and say, "Yes, this hat is for your baby. Oh, it's warm now. She doesn't need a hat anymore. Let's save this for your little sister."
"Okay Mommy."
I feel no guilt.
Whatta ya think?
Kelly Down
Monday, May 10, 2010
She Can Be Taught!
Grandmothers Guild, here I come! (I'm terrified of BINGO though, anyone wanna give me lessons and a free psychological breakdown?)
My first project. 'Tis a headband, for these cold, cold spring nights. Erm...I guess I'll hang it in the closet with my overly-long-hangs-down-below-my-knees scarf.
It's ribbed. For my pleasure. I COULDN'T RESIST!
On a less dirty minded topic, I love the colors.. Brett's amazing. He picked them all out and gave them to me for Mothers Day.
Tune in to see me lose my mind and the use of my right arm over a very cute baby beanie!
Manic Monday
Why I schedule my Dr.'s appointments on Monday's is beyond me. Well, it wasn't, but it is now. I'm resolved never to do it again =)
The first few my thinking was along the lines of, "Well, maybe he'll say I don't have to be on bed rest anymore. And if that's the case, I want to start right away! I don't want to wait if I don't have to!" But now I'm resolved that I may be glued to the couch for the remainder. Plus, as I've mentioned before, my body gives me excellent warning signals to sit down and shut up. I mean, sit down and relax, haha.
After a very full Mother's Day yesterday, which had me going to a few different places, I smacked myself on the head and said, "Why didn't I just have everyone come to me? I know it's Mother's Day, but for heaven sakes, I'm on bed rest!" I'm a little slow on the uptake, obviously. So for the next four hundred holiday's, feel free to stop by, cause I'm not leavin' the house again!
We got home fairly early for a holiday. Holiday's for our family are outrageous, with no fewer than 4 visits (all over the county). Thankfully we got away with only two yesterday. Mostly due to the fact that I was having a contraction every four minutes, and the kids had let the demons inside of them take over completely.
Brett is so sweet, though. He got me "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" audio and a lot of yarn with which I can irritate my random funny bone even more =) I've picked up on crocheting and now I can't seem to put it down =0) I don't know if I'm brave enough to post pictures of my work, we'll see. But so far I've mastered 8 stitches, a layered flower, and am currently making a, for lack of a better word, wide headband. Brett's art skills sure helped in picking out yarn color, especially considering that I am all but color blind.
Anywho, not much going on here. Just sitting and waiting and enjoying the popcorn popping in my ever growing, ever grumpy, uterus.
Kelly Out
The first few my thinking was along the lines of, "Well, maybe he'll say I don't have to be on bed rest anymore. And if that's the case, I want to start right away! I don't want to wait if I don't have to!" But now I'm resolved that I may be glued to the couch for the remainder. Plus, as I've mentioned before, my body gives me excellent warning signals to sit down and shut up. I mean, sit down and relax, haha.
After a very full Mother's Day yesterday, which had me going to a few different places, I smacked myself on the head and said, "Why didn't I just have everyone come to me? I know it's Mother's Day, but for heaven sakes, I'm on bed rest!" I'm a little slow on the uptake, obviously. So for the next four hundred holiday's, feel free to stop by, cause I'm not leavin' the house again!
We got home fairly early for a holiday. Holiday's for our family are outrageous, with no fewer than 4 visits (all over the county). Thankfully we got away with only two yesterday. Mostly due to the fact that I was having a contraction every four minutes, and the kids had let the demons inside of them take over completely.
Brett is so sweet, though. He got me "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" audio and a lot of yarn with which I can irritate my random funny bone even more =) I've picked up on crocheting and now I can't seem to put it down =0) I don't know if I'm brave enough to post pictures of my work, we'll see. But so far I've mastered 8 stitches, a layered flower, and am currently making a, for lack of a better word, wide headband. Brett's art skills sure helped in picking out yarn color, especially considering that I am all but color blind.
Anywho, not much going on here. Just sitting and waiting and enjoying the popcorn popping in my ever growing, ever grumpy, uterus.
Kelly Out
Friday, May 07, 2010
Thursday, May 06, 2010
Are "Real" Women the New Sexy?
No! A plus sized model is a 12!? Hardly plus sized. When are we going to come full circle back to this:
No, no, this isn't me. But seriously, it could be! Well, I mean, after six months of breast feeding and working out and maybe even a little lipo and a serious breast reduction...but my point is, when are real women going to be the "new" sexy? When when when!!!??
See those rolls on the lower half of the abdomen? The Cheshire cat smile? Indicative of any child-bearing woman? The strong thighs? The stout arms? This is a woman. At least she could carry around her very large children. She can forgo the Spanx and be happy.
Yeah, I don't think the dates are right on these pictures....
Remember Renee? Curves, yes! Boobs, yes! It was allllll good. Then it went terribly bony. I mean, wrong.
I just...euw. This is just not attractive. I'm not saying the woman should turn obese or anything, but goodness, I could snap her in half with a bad stare. Ladies, this is not beautiful. How is that stick of a neck holding up that gigantic head? Woops, a light breeze, "SNAP!"
I thought she looked familiar!
So, anyway, when you look in the mirror today, revel in your curves. Go ahead, slide your hands down your waist, grab hold of the love handles, give 'em a little wiggle, and be thankful that you could safely take a walk outside in downtown Chicago without risk to life and limb.
Don't starve yourself or punish yourself. Take a walk, go on a hike, go for a bike ride, carry around your 25 lb toddler, throw them up in the air. Be happy in being healthy, not deathly. Get excited when that XL shirt hangs a little lose, or when the Cheshire smiley face on your lower belly doesn't hang quite as far over your pants as it did last week. And the next time your husband tells you he thinks you're beautiful, give him a kiss, not the look of death (this advice is more for me...)
All this brought to you by a pregnant woman who hasn't had a waist in over a month =)
Kelly Down
Wednesday, May 05, 2010
What the Funny Bone
The joys of pregnancy are many.
That is not what this post is about.
It's obvious that you're going to have some discomforts, obviously. I mean, at one point you're lugging around a wriggling, kicking, 5+ lb human being. In your belly. Without hands. Let's not talk about what it takes to get it out.
Others are not so obvious. The ones that the first time pregnant mothers say, "Why didn't anyone tell me?!" Because then no one would procreate, that's why sweetheart.
Having contractions every few minutes, all day long, is not one of those "normal" discomforts one can expect from pregnancy. I have adjusted and accepted this, though.
But now I'm dealing with something so bizzaro, so out there, I have to question my luck. Cubital Tunnel Syndrome. Ever heard of it? Yeah, neither had I. Basically, it's as if I'm continually hitting my funny bone. Water retention is irritating the nerve, causing sharp pains to shoot down my arm and into my hand, numbing a few of my fingers, and swelling the rest. The cure: anti-inflamatories. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I know that after all is said and done, and I'm holding baby Neff #3, whom I'm already madly in love with, that my placenta brain will kick in, and I will forget everything. I am relying on this like a life-line. It is the light at the end of my Cubital Tunnel Syndrome.
My uterus will return to it's non-irritable state, my bladder will have a reprive, and my funny bone will stop being so funny. Rinse and repeat.
I still actually love being pregnant. The in-between moments when I get to feel a kick, or hear a heart beat, or just think about what I'm actually accomplishing, totally out weigh the negative. And I'm not even on any pain medication right now =)
Here is a crappy picture for you all to enjoy (or not). Jessie, maybe your keys are in my crater of a belly button.
Kelly Down
That is not what this post is about.
It's obvious that you're going to have some discomforts, obviously. I mean, at one point you're lugging around a wriggling, kicking, 5+ lb human being. In your belly. Without hands. Let's not talk about what it takes to get it out.
Others are not so obvious. The ones that the first time pregnant mothers say, "Why didn't anyone tell me?!" Because then no one would procreate, that's why sweetheart.
Having contractions every few minutes, all day long, is not one of those "normal" discomforts one can expect from pregnancy. I have adjusted and accepted this, though.
But now I'm dealing with something so bizzaro, so out there, I have to question my luck. Cubital Tunnel Syndrome. Ever heard of it? Yeah, neither had I. Basically, it's as if I'm continually hitting my funny bone. Water retention is irritating the nerve, causing sharp pains to shoot down my arm and into my hand, numbing a few of my fingers, and swelling the rest. The cure: anti-inflamatories. HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
I know that after all is said and done, and I'm holding baby Neff #3, whom I'm already madly in love with, that my placenta brain will kick in, and I will forget everything. I am relying on this like a life-line. It is the light at the end of my Cubital Tunnel Syndrome.
My uterus will return to it's non-irritable state, my bladder will have a reprive, and my funny bone will stop being so funny. Rinse and repeat.
I still actually love being pregnant. The in-between moments when I get to feel a kick, or hear a heart beat, or just think about what I'm actually accomplishing, totally out weigh the negative. And I'm not even on any pain medication right now =)
Here is a crappy picture for you all to enjoy (or not). Jessie, maybe your keys are in my crater of a belly button.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
Monday, May 03, 2010
Sacrament at Home
I didn't realize how much I needed the Sacrament. It was so nice to have it brought to my house on Sunday. I've never had a quieter Sacrament! You don't know what you're missing until you get it again. Now I can look forward to Sunday's instead of getting depressed that I'm stuck at home =)
Kelly Down
Saturday, May 01, 2010
Gag Reflex
Warning: Do not read if you're sick of hearing how wonderful my husband is. This post will tickle your gag reflex.
Because I was naughty and took a 15 minute hiatus at the grocery store, I am suffering greatly. All my own fault. In fact, my sweet husband advised me against it. He was willing to go to the store alone, with two grumpy grumpy children, and get my odd-ball list of items. I was selfish, and wanted to go. I needed some quality WalMart time (obviously, I'm desperate.)
Anywho, a few hours later I was on all fours, begging for a nice shot of morphine in my bottom. He was knee deep in insulation, trying to get the t.v. in our bedroom to work (for me, of course) with starving children screaming, past bed time. He made them dinner, and because I had mentioned hours earlier that Arby's sounded good, he left and brought me back Arby's. All while saying this, "I feel so bad. I feel so guilty. I'm so sorry you hurt."
He's sorry?! I'm the idiot, and he's sorry!? See what I mean? Greatest man in the entire world. Ever.
Kelly Spoiled and Down
Because I was naughty and took a 15 minute hiatus at the grocery store, I am suffering greatly. All my own fault. In fact, my sweet husband advised me against it. He was willing to go to the store alone, with two grumpy grumpy children, and get my odd-ball list of items. I was selfish, and wanted to go. I needed some quality WalMart time (obviously, I'm desperate.)
Anywho, a few hours later I was on all fours, begging for a nice shot of morphine in my bottom. He was knee deep in insulation, trying to get the t.v. in our bedroom to work (for me, of course) with starving children screaming, past bed time. He made them dinner, and because I had mentioned hours earlier that Arby's sounded good, he left and brought me back Arby's. All while saying this, "I feel so bad. I feel so guilty. I'm so sorry you hurt."
He's sorry?! I'm the idiot, and he's sorry!? See what I mean? Greatest man in the entire world. Ever.
Kelly Spoiled and Down
Kembry a Virgo?
Practicality and conscientious attention to detail are two of your Virgo child's foremost traits, even from an early age. You might find her organizing her toys or saving her allowance to buy some coveted item while other children spend their money on immediate gratification.
Not so. If lip gloss is in the equation, she'll blow it all. Remember Rebecca Bloomwood from "Confessions of a Shopaholic"? I seriously imagined Kembry the entire time. Good thing Brett has two jobs.
Your little Virgo isn't likely to be frivolous. Rather, she measures the pros and cons of a situation and goes with what makes the most sense. Virgo children have high standards and are naturally cautious, so they can seem picky or reserved, but this is simply because they prefer to stand back and assess a situation rather than throwing themselves into it.
Explain this to the young life guards at the pool. Kembry runs and jumps into the pool. Not the kiddie pool. The deep pool. We get the dirtiest crusty's from those life guards sometimes...especially since Kembry looks more like a fresh 2 year old than a seasoned 3 year old.
Your Virgo child is a natural helper. She appreciates order and genuinely wants to pitch in and be of service to the family and, later, to the world -- a trait that should be commended and developed.
This is about the only part of her sign that rings even slightly true to me. She does love to help, however her help is often a hindrance. Maybe this will change when she's older, but for now I just don't like letting her lose with a can of Lysol and a rag.
As the parent of a Virgo, you'll need to temper your child's expectation of perfection with the message that sometimes, good enough is just that -- good enough. Build up her confidence as much as you can, for your child is likely to be self-effacing and overly humble.
And I quote, "I'm so pretty. I'm so beautiful. I'm the beautiful, pretty princess." Or, as Brett just said, "More like vain and self-centered!" The girl has had more mirror time in her short 3 years of life than I had in my teenage years.
Help your little Virgo relax and enjoy the simple pleasures of life by getting outside into nature -- going swimming or for a long, meandering walk. Balanced meals, scheduled naps, and regular downtime will all be important for your Virgo child, who may tend to be rather fretful and anxious. Anything that promotes relaxation will help your child stay calm and centered.
One thing we need to make sure of with Kembry: feed her, feed her a lot, and feed her often. I don't know if this has anything to do with schedules and what-not, but the girl tends to have a nasty low-blood sugar effect. Our only problem now is keeping her out of nature, and out of dirt. She's the little girl who climbs trees higher than the boys, in her Princess Cinderella dress.
Kelly Down
Not so. If lip gloss is in the equation, she'll blow it all. Remember Rebecca Bloomwood from "Confessions of a Shopaholic"? I seriously imagined Kembry the entire time. Good thing Brett has two jobs.
Your little Virgo isn't likely to be frivolous. Rather, she measures the pros and cons of a situation and goes with what makes the most sense. Virgo children have high standards and are naturally cautious, so they can seem picky or reserved, but this is simply because they prefer to stand back and assess a situation rather than throwing themselves into it.
Explain this to the young life guards at the pool. Kembry runs and jumps into the pool. Not the kiddie pool. The deep pool. We get the dirtiest crusty's from those life guards sometimes...especially since Kembry looks more like a fresh 2 year old than a seasoned 3 year old.
Your Virgo child is a natural helper. She appreciates order and genuinely wants to pitch in and be of service to the family and, later, to the world -- a trait that should be commended and developed.
This is about the only part of her sign that rings even slightly true to me. She does love to help, however her help is often a hindrance. Maybe this will change when she's older, but for now I just don't like letting her lose with a can of Lysol and a rag.
As the parent of a Virgo, you'll need to temper your child's expectation of perfection with the message that sometimes, good enough is just that -- good enough. Build up her confidence as much as you can, for your child is likely to be self-effacing and overly humble.
And I quote, "I'm so pretty. I'm so beautiful. I'm the beautiful, pretty princess." Or, as Brett just said, "More like vain and self-centered!" The girl has had more mirror time in her short 3 years of life than I had in my teenage years.
Help your little Virgo relax and enjoy the simple pleasures of life by getting outside into nature -- going swimming or for a long, meandering walk. Balanced meals, scheduled naps, and regular downtime will all be important for your Virgo child, who may tend to be rather fretful and anxious. Anything that promotes relaxation will help your child stay calm and centered.
One thing we need to make sure of with Kembry: feed her, feed her a lot, and feed her often. I don't know if this has anything to do with schedules and what-not, but the girl tends to have a nasty low-blood sugar effect. Our only problem now is keeping her out of nature, and out of dirt. She's the little girl who climbs trees higher than the boys, in her Princess Cinderella dress.
Kembry a Virgo? I think her sign was chronologically mixed up with her due date. Remember on Seinfeld when George goes to the natural healer, recommended by Kramer? And the healer asks George, "In what month were you born?" George replies, "March." Then the healer says, "You should have been born in September. Your parents would have been well advised to wait." That's us!
Kelly Down
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