1. This guy:
We'll celebrate 4 years on Thursday and we're marking the occassion with a late-night showing of the Hunger Games (okay, I am actually sneaking out of the house with 2 out of 6 siblings and leaving my saintly spouse at home) followed by a glorious weekend away at a hotel downtown where my itinerary includes napping followed by a light nap and then some overnight napping. And maybe a nice child-free Mass on Sunday morning. My little sis is watching the boys for 2 nights, so pray for her. Babymoon for the win!
2. My third trimester ring.
Dave gifted this ring to me last time around, and while it took my
3. Chapter books with Joey.
Continuing our foray into the literary depths beyond "What color is my digger?" and "Guess how much I freaking love you let's talk about it till we vomit," I received an advance copy of this super cute chapter book aimed at, I would guess, 6-10 year old girls, penned by a friend (and fellow FOCUS alum) of Dave's. We've torn through 5 chapters in a single evening thus far and by all accounts, the 3-year-old male demographic is also highly satisfied by this adorable tome in the tradition of "Junie B. Jones," (or so I seem to vaguely recall from my days of reading to my younger sisters.) It's funny, cute, and so far there's not a lick of saccharine piety to be found, which is a rare animal in modern Catholic children's fiction, at least in my limited exposure. I'll do a real review with a giveaway when we've finished it. I'll even try to keep Joey's grubby pawing to a minimum.
4. I showed up for a blind play date this morning looking all kinds of Amish (or maybe female Duggar) in my latest sartorial piece de jour, but since finding, killing, and dragging home this maxi (new with tags!) at Goodwill 2 weeks ago, I've rarely taken it off. (Mine's grey)
I didn't think I could ever rock the maxi trend, but then I got enormous and the temperatures, well, they're still resting comfortably in the 50-60 degree range most days here in sunny Denver, so my s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d out Old Navy reliables are collecting dust in the drawer while I prance around owning my starts-with-a-J-name like nobody's business. Also, the thing is a fricking medium and it fits better than my husband's gym shorts, so Liz Lange, if you're out there and you're reading, I'd like to find you and kiss you right on the mouth. Or something like that.
5. My new (to me) carseat, washed, detailed, and sitting pretty in Princess Genevieve's decorated nursery. It's heavy, but not as heavy as our old Chicco was, so I'll settle for mildly sculpted triceps and a strained upper back this time around.
I am nesting into eternity with this bebe, and not only does she have a bunting strung over her crib and the entire wardrobe she'll need for her first year of life washed, labelled, and color-coded in her sweetly organized drawers, but now she has a safe ride home from the hospital to boot. And okay, while it's a little white trash to buy a car seat off of Craig, my sister pointed out that it's technically not any worse than putting your third born into a seat her two older brothers already bombed out. And besides, we left that one in Italy. Can't beat a seat with three (3! WTF?) bases for $50 bucks. Seriously, who gets the third base? A neighbor? The coffee guy at my usual place? An unmarried younger sibling in need of penance? Maybe I'll hold a lottery.
On that note, may the odds be ever in your favor. I've gotta go practice french braiding my shoulder length bob and find something to make a quiver out of before tomorrow night...