my silver tongued prince charming

my husband is so supportive. truly. he has a way with words that uplift me and take my self esteem to new found heights. i had a particularly hard day on friday - between an overwhelming work load and the overwhelming need to nest that drove me to my hands and knees vacuuming and mopping our apartment floor, i just could not handle the pregnancy anymore. this may have had something to do with the fact that i had not showered nor put on any makeup. it was a ghastly sight each time i walked by the mirror, covered in dust, "pregnancy shine" and that extra layer of pregnancy fat, gently surrounding my now rotund face. 

i tried to hold it together. i really did. i finally sat on the couch as evening approached, ready to catch up on downton abbey. but then i heard the key unlocking our front door and as soon as husband came through the door, i burst into tears. husband stared at me, not sure what to say, or what to do, while i tried to utter my suffering, through staggering breaths and intense sobbing. "i'm SO fat!. my face is as round as a basketball." husband, came over, put his hands around my face and replied, "babe, don't be silly. you're pregnant. you're supposed to gain weight. plus your face is not as round as a basketball. it's more like a honeydew."

so on saturday, while at costco, we decided to do a side by side comparison. what do you think? i may never be able to eat the much loathed honeydew every again. alternatively, my face could just be puffed up, along with the rest of me, after that pep talk. hard not get too big for my britches after husband's loving words of reassurance. 

Chester Cheetos is Not Welcome

you know the saying, "love has no limits,"? well, let me tell you, it does. love stops when crumbs in bed may be involved. 

last night, i found myself to be a particularly ravenous pregnant lady - i'm told the midnight munchies are an (un)fortunate symptom of pregnancy that gets progressively worse throughout the pregnancy. at first, i tried to fight it, as i heard momma chiang's voice in my head, "don't eat snacks too late at night." i'm pretty sure pizza at 12:05 a.m. would fall exactly in this category. so as i lamented  my state of starvation, i simultaneously refused to get out of bed for a snack. 

eventually i caved and walked into the kitchen, opening all our cupboards, and at long last, ending up in my beloved pantry, where i spotted a bag of cheetos - remnants from my first trimester snack cravings. as i opened the bag and began to make my way back to the bed, my beloved husband said, "don't you dare come into bed with those. you'll get crumbs everywhere." [sidenote: leaving a trail of crumbs everywhere is also a special pregnancy skill, soon to be added to my esteemed resume.]  and for emphasis, he closed the  door, and i heard him say, "just to be sure, i'm going to lock the door until you are finished eating those cheetos." too starved to argue, i stood outside my closed bedroom door munching away, thinking to myself, this must be fairly close to what outer darkness and the weeping and gnashing of teeth will feel like - banished, with all cheetos enjoyment taken away. 

baby, thy name is sugar!

lately, scenes around the house include me staring down a bag of chocolate blizzard cookies from trader joe's, telling myself, "i will not have another, i will not have another." baby says, "yes you will." and so the dance goes on, day after day, usually ending with me caving, and sitting on the couch with chocolate crumbs on  my chin. (note to self, must stock up on more cookies. supplies are dangerously low!) our little guy sure loves himself some sugar; that means he's going to be real sweet right?? i was pretty paranoid that i would not pass my glucose test given all the additional sugar my body now needs. yes, i said, NEEDS. but since mom and babe passed the glucose test with flying colors the other day, we treated ourselves. and it was divine. and let me tell you, you have not had caramel corn until you have had garrett's gingerbread crisp over the holidays! happy weekend!

 

awesome parenting

around these parts, we have been practicing parenting and apparently, it's second nature to us, as we have awesome parenting skills.

each week of this pregnancy, husband and i read the weekly development of our baby in "what to expect when you're expecting." a little excerpt from week 22: "Though it is dark in the uterine cocoon - and even with fused eyelids - fetuses this age can perceive light and dark. If you shine a flashlight over your belly, you might feel your baby react..."

so what do we do? of course we shine a bright flash light! and no baby carlson did not react, so then we had to poke him until he woke up. yes. the husband and i definitely have this parenting thing down.

oh and yes, that's a boot on my left foot, because in classic gracie fashion, i sprained my foot - just going about my business, walking on the sidewalk. i'm talented like that.

progress report

yes i know. i've been remiss with posts of late. but really, between emotional breakdowns over my new desire to constantly clean, there's just not that much energy left. i remain convinced though, that if husband agreed to let me make a semi-big investment into a new camera, i'd be more motivated to post (hint hint hubs), but here are some pics of our future home. looking pretty move-in ready if you ask me.

my latest handy work

last week, i exchanged these texts with husband:

gracie: "Babe, don't yell at me. I scratched the car, pulling into our parking spot."

davey: "Seriously? how bad? and what does 'scratch' mean? Does it include dents?" (my husband the untrusting lawyer)

so far, it would seem that pregnant gracie does not have a good driving record. but in the grand scheme of things, at least i didn't wreck this one. and i guess it's a good thing we didn't end up getting the mercedes that hubby really wanted. something tells me if i had scratched up that baby, there would have been yelling, and much less forebearance.

p.s. here's me and baby at nineteen weeks

how to know everything

i have a theory that if you say anything (within certain bounds of reason) with enough confidence, people will just believe you. that is until your benedict arnold of a husband calls you out during one of your moments of confidence, trying to explain why the leaves have managed to stay on so long this year (surely it is because we've had so much rain right? doesn't that sound believable??) and then to prove that you are right, you research on your smart phone, only to find that no explanation for leaves hanging on longer even comes close to yours. so of course you say, "well that's just the internet. i need to find a credible source (a.k.a. my [made up] knowledge base)," when what you really want to do is glare at your husband, point and say, "et tu brute?!"

but still, i am unshaken. i still contend that if you are 51% sure of what you are saying, go for it, with bravado and confidence. and people will believe you. (doubting husbands aside).