Top 5 Costco buys

You might even say they're my favorites.

Seriously, I've been thinking what's lacking around these parts lately is that je ne sais quoi that makes a mommy blog a mommy blog. Readership cannot thrive by pure intellectual stimulation alone.

So in an all-time low I present to you a rousing rendition of "what's in my double wide shopping cart?" I mean, aside from the sample drippings and chubby, flailing limbs.

Breath baited?

Good.

Here it goes.

Without fail, every time I hit up everybody's favorite warehouse store (on average, once every 3 weeks), the following 5 times make their way home with me:

1. A crate of San Pellegrino. $13.85 is kind of pricey for 12 sparkly bottles of water, but then you do the math on what 12 bottles of wine would cost in terms of actual dollars and expanded waistlines resulting in yet more clothes shopping, and you will throw that bad boy on your under-cart shelf (along with possibly throwing out your back) faster than you can say 'Lenten happy hour.'

2. A million dollar package of delicious USDA select steaks. But there's a catch: see those 4 steaks pictured above? Well I can wave my magic butcher knife and voila, they will yield about 10 actual, recommended portion sizes for adults. Think that sounds crazy? Yeah, I do too. 4-6 oz of steak doesn't look like much on your plate. But when you're slicing it thinly for salads, mixing it in with roasted onions and peppers for fajitas, or just straight up grilling it to eat with a few veggie sides, it's enough. And it tastes so good, so much better than average grocery store meat! So I drop around $28 on a single package at the beginning of the month and then, we eat steak. I can't stand the taste of cheap beef, which brings me to my next favorite...

3. A triple pack of Kirkland's Best organic ground beef. Is $18 for 5.5 lbs of ground beef stupid? Yes, yes it is. But it tastes like shredded steak, and it is delicious, and my family is content to eat meat 4 times per week instead of 7, so it's really a win/win. Aside from the summer-long meatzapolooza of burgers on the grill, I generally only use ground beef for meatloaf, tacos, taco salad and ragu sauce, so all of those are stretchable meals that can make a pound of ground flex to feed a crowd.

4. Moooooving on. In our #4 spot we have a 2 lb brick of whatever cheese the boys are fancying this week. (Nothing yellow at the moment will cross their lips. Who even knows?). I usually buy Tillamook extra sharp cheddar because it is delicious and you can hack quarter pound slices off the end to eat with your glass of red wine and the log remains the same giant size it was when you unwrapped it, but since this month is all about temperance and abstinence and suffering, I let them pick boring old monterey jack, and the store brand at that. But the takeaway lesson is this: you do not need to buy shredded cheese, ever. Unless it's fresh parmesan, and then I totally absolve you because that is hard to shred and ain't nobody should be consuming the rancid powdered stuff from a can. (I'm not judging you, I'm just trying to educate the uncheesed masses of America. Put down the green cans. It's not real.) What I'm saying about cheese is that it's super super super affordable if you're willing to do your own shredding.

5. Last but not least, the lovely leaves. A boring 6-pack of Romaine lettuce that lasts through one million lettuce wraps and dinner salads. $3.29 for 6 heads of lettuce? Hell to the yes.

Happy shopping, card holders. And don't forget to keep your receipt out when you exit.

Five Favorites

So we got a Trader Joe's in town last month. I'd been in one a time or two in college, but I had all but forgotten about it until last summer on a trip to Virginia. Holy free range chicken, their meat is overpriced but everything in the whole.damn.store. is so delicious. And (carnivorous materials aside) surprisingly affordable. Like really, really affordable. Our grocery budget is spot on this month, and all credit goes to TJ.

Yeah, like that.

So without further ado, and because it's Wednesday, and because I'm too tired to think of anything else to write about, here are my newfound heavy hitters from Trader Joe's.

1.

Okay, not food, but seriously amazing. Best shaving cream I've used maybe ever ever ever, it's vegan and paraben free, and it's like, $2.99 in the store. What. Plus it smells like my Hawaiian honeymoon.

2.

This stuff is almost as delicious as homemade, and at $1.19 per lump, it's actually slightly cheaper than making it yourself, by my calculations. Yeast is expensive! Sort of. My boys love "helping" me stretch it out and then loading it with toppings, and we've had it for at least one meal a week for the past month.

3.

See that? That's a big-ass thing of basil. For $2. I almost slapped myself the first time I laid eyes on it, so accustomed had I become to shelling out closer to 5 big ones for a pathetic 2 ounce container of wilted sorrow. After living la vita dolce, I kinda got a taste for fresh basil. And it's kinda not readily available in Colorado unless you're willing to pay dearly. But this? It's like half a pound of basil. And it's delicious. And I can make a pile of homemade pesto sauce and top a pizza and fling some into an omlette and still have a sprig or two left over. Delicious. (Helpful hint: I make pesto sauce using almonds - cheaper than pine nuts, and more pleasing to a kiddie palate.)

4. 

These are straight up laced with crack. I ate 17 of them on Fat Tuesday. I counted. Next time we get pregnant I'm earmarking a special 7 pounds just for Joe Joe consumption.

5. 

This is deliciousssssssss. And it's $7. Which is exactly half the price of our favorite Italian espresso. Trader Joes, I'll love you forever.

Hop over to Hallie's for more favorites in groups of five.

Five Faves: sick and tired and spandexed

1. My little sister is getting married this weekend. It's SO much fun to be going through a wedding that isn't your own, and it is so much work. It's my favorite kind of work, make no mistake, but it's work nonetheless. Last weekend's lingerie shower precludes this week's 5-sister movie date (we're lucky and we know it), bachelorette party, pedicure appointment, rehearsal dinner, and of course, the blessed event. I'm rocking a head cold and an 8-week old, so I'm pretty much the most fun and most matronly of all matrons of honor. And did I mention my size enormous David's bridal frock is nursing friendly? Or at least, I've made some adjustments to make it so.

Anyway, I bought 5 bottles of this at Costco this morning. So we're pretty much set.

2. I have the kind of cold that makes you feel like you've been kicked in the mouth and taken a baseball to the septum, so I've been searching for various and sundry breast-feeding kosher remedies, and basically the options are:

Sensible saline.

Suicidal snot buster.

Tea towel sauna.

4. I'm counting that last unfortunate round up of images as number 3. Currently I'm sitting on the couch, nursing a glass of aforementioned prosecco, and willing numbness into my teeth and forehead.

5. But at least I've got these to shimmy into, come Saturday.

I did extensive research and then dropped $70 at Target on several hideous looking garments promising to make all my wildest dreams come true. Or at least, to grease the entry into my size i'llnevertell bridesmaid dress, and ensure a tight and reliable ziiiiip.

Hallie for life, y'all. Via Christy. See you there.

Five Favorites

Can I cheat and just put 5 different pictures of my baby girl? No? Okay, maybe 5 pictures of her plus five things I am really loving about newborn-ness this time around?

1. Her head smells like heaven. Which is weird, because she has had exactly one shower in her brief ex-utero life, so really her head should smell like crappy Johnson and Johnson hospital grade baby soap and the inside of my uterus. Which doesn't strike me as the aroma of sanctity. But. Still. Heavenly breaths of sweet, sweet baby smell…and she hasn't even been swabbed with chrism yet.

Spa day.

2. I don't care that I still look 5 months pregnant. Seriously, I don't. I just ate a mug full of Blue Bell Rocky Mountain Road ice cream at 9:30 pm because I can, and I'm still all like, daaaaaaamn, I look so much skinnier than I did 3 days ago. Go me. Let's eat fudge! 

Daily weight checks for littlest ladies, only.

This post partum period, so far, has been so very much more joyful and peaceful than either of the boys' arrivals. With Joey I was a nervous wreck and nursing was an awful oddessy of dread and tears, and I was so depressed after JP was born I could barely get myself out of bed in the morning, let alone go skipping around the house hanging up Christmas decorations and rearranging the cutest wittle pink blankets on the most darling changing table you've ever seen. Also, I weighed myself after both of deliveries. Frequently. This time? Ignorance is bliss. Sheer bliss.

3. My boys are at grandma's house. I miss them so much but I am baby mooning like a boss and all my laundry is caught up and Dave is off work and it is so, so nice to have the combined effect of the perspective of third-time parenting (hint: newborn stage is short and sweet, drink it up) coupled with the absence of those other offspring who gave you your crash course in newborn nurturing. They'll be back tomorrow though, and I'm sure it's about to get real up in casa de Uebbing. But for now I'm reveling in my sparkling clean house, full fridge, and darling pink accents strewn artfully about.

I'm a darling pink accent.

4. Christmas is coming, it's already day one of the O Antiphons! And I'm not pregnant any more! And I have a wee little lass to dress all in ruffled red, and I just joined the 21st century and pledged my allegiance to Amazon prime so I might actually get the remaining shopping done and delivered on time. This is by far the best case scenario I had dreamt up way back when in Bella Roma while staring at those two pink lines…God is good. And so is 2 day free shipping.

Epidurals. Only slightly more amazing than 2-day shipping. 

5. My sisters planned my baby shower for this past Saturday. I went into labor last Friday night. But it was a sloooooow moving labor. And upon showing up at the hospital a tad on the early side, I may have been given the option to walk the halls or go home and try to prod things along/get some rest on my own. Which may have resulted in my attending my own baby shower while in labor, pausing only occasionally to wince through particularly effective contractions while drinking mimosas and opening presents. It was 2 parts awesome and 1 part bizarre, and I promise I'll get my typing fingers warmed up and bang out a birth story before the week is out. But let's just call that a teaser trailer…

Worth the wait, I promise.

Thank you for all your sweet comments and well-wishes. I can't express how much this little girl has filled our hearts and our home with joy. Now off to sweet Hallie's with you.

5 Favorites: Hospital Bag

So I should proooooobably pack something to take for the dreaded overnight at hotel hospital for this little lady's imminent arrival, but I find myself at something of a loss.

Firstly, if I pack a bag that means I'm expecting to go into labor soon. At least in my mind, bag preparedness = imminent birth. I'm 'full term' at 37 weeks now, and indeed, Joey was born at 37w 4d, so it's not completely beyond the realm of possibility. But. But… John Paul debuted at 41 weeks and some change. So, yeah. If you're counting, that's around a month's difference in gestational time. They were both spontaneous labors, and Joey was actually 10 oz bigger than JP, so…who knows. And yes, we knew our dates were right, both times. Particularly with our almost-honeymoon baby Joey, ahem.

So that means I may be pregnant for like, another 2 days. Or else for another month. No big deal, right? Well, except for the extra 2-3 lbs I seem to be piling on every single week still. And the fact that I had to buy a new maternity shirt yesterday in this, my 9th month of pregnancy, when I'd really prefer to be saving my pennies for something not designed by Madame Lange and consisting of a 97/3 lycra poly blend. I don't know, maybe pants with a zipper? Something crazy.

But back to the bag. For our firstborn's delivery, I had a full size suitcase packed with aaaaaaaall the recommended Bradley business you can imagine, and then some. Tennis balls. Scented candles. Essential oils. A birthing ball. Literally made Dave stuff a 55 inch fully inflated birthing ball in the backseat of our Honda accord before driving my laboring, broken-watered self through rush hour traffic on a Wednesday evening to our hospital. Oh, and a Boppy. And a blow dryer. And 3 outfits for all three of us, I'm pretty sure. At any rate, 80% of it never made it up from the parking lot to the birthing suite, and I'm almost positive that I wore the same pair of his and his gym shorts and a ratty nursing tank for the entire 3 day stay. We may have even done a leave-behind on the birthing ball in the hospital parking lot when we discovered we couldn't get Joey's carseat strapped into the back seat due to it's massive girth…

I did a little better packing for JP's debut, but not a lot, and I distinctly remember looking around our teeny teeny teeny recovery room and freaking the freak out because there was clutter everywhere: clothes, balloons, half empty bottles of champagne, diapers, makeup…it was so not zen-like.

This time I would looooove to strike the perfect balance between prepared and spartan chic. I'm talking one bathrobe for mama, a handful of footie pajamas and onesies for baby girl, and maybe Dave's contact solution and toothbrush. Maybe. (I'd love to not have to stay a single night this time around, fingers crossed!)

So I throw the floor open to you, mamas. What are your go-to items/products for birth day? Here are mine:

1. Earth Mama Angel Baby new mama bottom spray. I can't/won't really go into further detail, but, yes. Essential. And much nicer smelling than lydocaine.

2. Bravado nurisng bra. Just picked this one up at Target to rave reviews from my 2-person try on panel in the family sized dressing room. Praying it lives up to the hype, and that they both wipe that memory clean from the delicate slate of their formative young souls…

3. Arbonne FC5 moisturizing day lotion. I use the formula for normal/dry skin, and I feel like a huge troll if I don't put it on morning and night, even though I'm probably not reaping the full SPF benefits in the midnight hours. It feels better than any lotion I've ever used, and I happily cough up the 30-something bucks every 6 months to reorder it.

You can buy some from my bff Elizabeth here.

4. My MacBook. Oh internet, the thought of sitting in a hospital recovery room without you by my side is too sad to bear. Plus, birth story writing. Maybe a little ambitious, we'll see.

5. Our San Damiano Crucifix. I bought it at the FUS bookstore before graduation and had it blessed by my old spiritual director, a wonderful T.O.R. with a rocking beard. Since then it has accompanied us into every delivery room, and I made sure to bring it to our last general audience with Papa Francesco before we departed Roma, so now it's layered with a thick layer of papal blessing, too. (Freaked out yet, non-Catholic readers?) My wonderful doctor also brings a beautiful icon of the Blessed Mother and props her up somewhere in my eyeshot, and I love begin able to look around our sterile and hideously-late-90's-oak-panelled delivery suite and see some actual beauty.

So tell me, what's in your bag? What am I missing? And head to Hallie's house on your way out.

5 Favorites

Joining Hallie the sweet for this lazy mom's blog favorites of the week.

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 fingers sausages a little longer to reach the "swollen beyond all recognition" stage with this little bambina, I had to pull it out last week and honestly, if I'm going to have to slip off my wedding set, this is a decent consolation prize. There's just something about fat, naked fingers on my 9 month pregnant self that I cannot handle, and since I seem to be spending the majority of our married life (thus far) cooking babies, it seemed a reasonable (and modest) investment to make. Might I recommend you baby mamas out there look into a similar arrangement with your honey?

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...

5 Favorites: 3rd Trimester

I actually love the beginning of the final trimester, because I'm usually all like heeeey, I'm totally in my third trimester and I feel fine. And I look fine, too! I then promptly forget about the misery that is month 9-10, and convince myself that I'm really only going to gain 20-something big ones this time around and that I am the fittest preggo to ever ascend the elliptical machine.

It's basically my pregnancy honeymoon, month 7 is. Though I did have my first "You look just about ready to give birth!" run in with an elderly cashier at Walgreens earlier this week, who followed up with a knowing, "Oh, well, it must be a big baby boy!" Ummm, nope and nope. But thank you kindly for the helpful observations.

Anywho, the favorites:

1. Comparison shots. Even more helpful than googling "30 week pregnant belly" is looking at your own 30 week pregnant belly, the early years. I couldn't find one of Joey's pregnancy from exactly 30 weeks, but I was gargantuan with him pretty much the entire last trimester thanks to some hydroamniosis and, I suspect, my daily White Cheddar Cheezit habit. (Megan, if you're reading this, I blame you as a co-conspirator.) For JP, in true second born style, I have like, 2 pictures from the entire pregnancy, one at 20 something weeks and one at 39 weeks, neither of which worked, so, sorry son. At least you're getting siblings out of the deal.

33(?) weeks - Joey. And yes, we had professional maternity shoot. In a botanical garden. Nothing says obnoxious like juxtaposing your burgeoning belly with blooming foliage. 

30 weeks - Genevieve. Please forgive the half belly caused by ill-fitting non-maternity yoga pants. Get thee to an overpriced maternity store this weekend, I will.

2. Weekly self-manicures. My current color obsession is navy and gold, and I've been keeping my fingers uncharacteristically polished, telling myself that it's now or never in the personal hygiene/relaxation department. I've literally locked the boys in the backyard in order to feed the addiction. Judge away, anons.

(Not my grown out bare cuticles, ftr.)

3. Waking up at night. No, I'm being serious. Not being woken up by angry toddlers, mind you, but the sort of restless 2 or 3 am waking where you realize, with some relief, it's only hunger or the urgent need to pee for the 18th time since 10 pm that's calling, and not a squalling newborn kitten begging for more milk. The feeling of being able to go back to sleep upon waking unexpectedly is sheer bliss. Bliss, I tell you.

4. Can I talk about my Blanqi again? No? Okay, I'm just going to go ahead and give them one more shout out, lest anyone out there in retail land be reading and feel the need to send another one or four my way just because, well then, by all means. 

I'll take one in this color, per favore

I.love.this.thing. I want one in every color, and I want a couple more that are regular length versus the long that I originally ordered, which, don't get me wrong, I love for its ass-shaping capacity, but looks goofy pulled halfway down my thighs over jeans. Though, in its defense, it does hold up the stupid jeans. Why don't full panel maternity jeans stay up? Any thoughts? Besides my huge, huge ass? Heard enough about my ass in today's post? Thought so.

5. If Pope Francis had a ghostwriter, I think she'd be Simcha Fisher. 

I could not put this down last night, and seriously had several 'aha, gonna pray about that' moments while reading. I'm 60% through the Kindle version and I'm la-la-loving it to death. Or to life, perhaps more appropriately.

Happy fall, y'all. Hopefully Hallie's got more of the good stuff 'round her place.

5 Favorites

A little brain candy for your Wednesday internet trolling, because I am short on sleep and long on a laundry list of domestic duties to be tackled before my! little! sister! and her family! get here on Saturday afternoon for a prolonged staycation with us. They're moving to Colorado and I could not be more excited. This is how good God is: when Dave got the call about his current job, we were sitting in my in-law's living room in South Bend, Indiana. 4 hours later we were waiting for our flight in the South Bend airport when Lizzie called to say "Guess what...?" At almost the same time, we blurted to eachother "We're moving home!" Shocked squeals abounded, and now, 2 months later, it's really happening. Between our 5 ex-utero children under the age of 4, it should be a really fun couple of weeks while they house hunt. Or so I'm telling myself as I needlessly bleach towels and fruitlessly mop floors.

Anywho, please enjoy the following random. As for me, I'll be rocking my Alpha Rev playlist and swiffering the shit out of the first floor.

1. 

The Pope is single-handedly destroying the Catholic Church. Oh yes he is, you'd better believe it. You'll have the easiest time believing it if you spend lots and lots of time trolling comboxes and kvetching over the ineloquence and foolishness of this simple man in white. Oh yes.

2.

The Church exists to evangelize. It is her deepest identity, the role of missionary. So why are we in the habit of strafing our biggest target audience with friendly fire?

3. 

I wanted this chair ruhl bad. I passed by it at Target many a morning, giving it the side eye and willing-away it's $140 price tag. Well well well, guess what I happened upon at Goodwill earlier this week, still sporting its Target tags and marked down to $30 dollars? I should probably write a how-to post on thrifting, because I'm kiiiind of obsessed with it, and I'm a little bit good at it. 

My precious

4. 

This guy.

He naps only every other day, meaning that on off days (hellooooo, today) I have this sensation of oh holy hell, how is this day going to play out until 6 pm? (He also has an alter-ego where he assumes the persona of "Charkey the dog" and will only answer to such. He also insists on calling John Paul "Gary" while he's in character, to which JP readily barks his agreement. Charkey is a character from Curious George I'm pretty sure, but I have no idea who in the hell Gary is. They both think they're hilarious.)

And so I've had to start thinking of stuff he can do on his ownsome, since mama's gotta work part of the day and my nap window is slamming shut on my typing fingers. Case in point, he was literally perched across my forearms while I typed that last sentence. He's a dainty 28 lbs at nearly 3 years old, so he is a peanut, but still. My forearms. 

Here's what I've come up for 'independent play' options: 

• Read books (he can't read, but he will stare for 20-30 minutes at a stack of library books, flipping through them at the pace of an actual reader. I don't know, maybe he is gaming the system by forcing all those read-alouds and he actually comprehends at a 6th grade level. 
• Work on my letters, mommy. This one involves foam letters from the Target dollar spot, a lot of answering questions when he fetches me various members of the alphabet, and then some halfhearted attempts to point out things around the house to match the letter in question. Rosie inspired this idea.
• Worm or rabbit hunting. Now that the floods have subsided, we're mostly back to bunnies only, but our neighborhood is teeming with rabbits. Think 3-4 on every lawn up and down both sides of the street at dusk. If you drive too fast into the driveway, you can flush an entire Disney animated short out of the shrubs. I send the boys out regularly to hunt and report on the whereabouts of our fecund neighbors. Never fails.
• Cutting. With scissors. Safety scissors + old newspaper, magazine, bulletin, whatever = 30 minutes (I am not kidding) of uninterrupted and relatively quiet concentration on his part. He is only allowed to cut at his IKEA kiddie table, and he thinks it is the coolest.thing.ever. Then he cleans it all up at the end of his special cutting time. Homeschooling: nailed it.

5. 

We hired a milk man. Hell yes suburban motherhood, I have arrived.

Coming soon to the cooler sitting on my front porch: 2 gallons of milk, a dozen eggs, and a pint of half and half every Monday morning. All organic, and all cheaper than our local organic grocery store. I'm lumping this into the category of "why not accept a little help if you can afford it/it's available?" It's actually cheaper than Costco, in terms of gas and sanity, and come on, they have seasonal eggnog. Win/win.

Be sure to check in with Hallie and her legion of favorites.

5 Feminine Favorites

How's that for a terrible title?

But thanks to Grace hosting for Hallie, I can burn your retinas with some girly girl favorites for the week:

1.

This post has gotten me thinking...and thinking, and thinking. I'm in a similar place in my life and motherhood, and it feels like the time is ripe for real growth. At any rate, I can pinpoint a big reason why writing has been so infrequent lately.

2. 

Introspective flash of insight: I feel physically ill at ease when my house is undecorated and/or cluttered. It's like my home environment is wearing dirty yoga pants and no bra, and I am struck to the core with the realization that fresh flowers and plumped throw pillows are the decorating equivalent of a shower and a blow out. So sometimes when I don't have time for the latter, I rely on the visual cues of the former to keep me from going to a scary, scary place mentally.

So stuff like this? Life saving, for me.

3. 

My sweet, sweet boys have become so very snuggly lately, and Joey has become quite free with his compliments. This week he has told me multiple times that "I like that hair color, Mommy" and lately at bedtime in lieu of the usual tantrum + face punching combo he has actually been asking me to lie down with him and snuggle. He then snakes one little arm around my neck and pulls me in tight so I can breathe his toddler poop breath while he kisses me repeatedly on the lips. Way to a mama's heart for sure. Melt. 

4.

Dave called me this weekend while I was out running errands and announced that he had planned and scheduled date night for tonight, with zero prompting or input from me. Not that this is completely out of character, because I probably married the most thoughtful and romantic man on earth, but he has been swamped at work and it was just such a nice surprise. He even tried to line up the babysitter by himself, which is like hot fudge on chocolate in my book. Husbands: all your wife wants is a night out of the house and some childcare. Truly.

From our engagement party, salvaged during recent Facebook purging.

5. 

Honestly, it's a good thing he is such a good husband and father, because it will give our little girl something to pattern her tastes after. 

Surprise! Meet Genevieve Therese. Lured by the unbearable temptation of a 4D ultrasound machine and an OB appointment sans toddlers, we decided to 'meet' our latest interior baby a few months earlier than usual. 

She's a bit daintier than her brothers were, so we get to go back in a month for another peek to make sure she's growing well. Isn't she pretty? I have a daughter...I can't believe it. And she clearly can't believe we had the audacity to photograph her. Her sweet little hands were covering her face and/or eyes the whole time. What a little doll. 

I tried to buy her first outfit today and left Old Navy with a nary to show for myself but a rainbow-striped onesie from the clearance rack and elevated blood pressure. I don't know if I can handle all the crazy that will be dressing and accessorizing a lady baby. Good thing I have 4 more months to plan and execute her sartorial debut. I'm thinking houndstooth.

5 Favs

Sorry the blog has been gathering a little dust lately. Just chalk it up to a busier schedule and a slightly less exciting daily grind in Centennial versus Rome. And to the looming third trimester of our latest edition.

Still, it's nice to depend on one of my two southern girls for motivation to write at least twice weekly. So yeah, I'll probably be back on Friday.

Without further ado:

1. I was so pumped to read (from a reliable source) this news today: a canonization date at last! And only a week after my John Paul turns 2. I'm thinking of hosting a killer double header party at our house. Polish vodka, miter shaped cupcakes, and maybe a koala hugging station. Let me know if you want to get on that guest list.

I'll drink to that.

2. This stuff is legit.

I first bought in it grad school and wouldn't you know it, even though I need it so much more desperately now, I rationalize that it's soooo much more essential to buy organic pain-free baby soap and sunscreen for my offspring than to wipe away the traces of their nighttime terror campaigns on my delicate complexion. But last month, I ordered some again and, for the first time, used it yesterday evening and again this morning and even though John Paul (not the koala hugger) woke up every 94 minutes last night to breathe croupily into my mouth and splay like a sweaty starfish across our king-but-felt-like-a-full-last-night bed, I look...fresh. Dewey, even?  My girl Elizabeth will hook you up if you're ready to take the pamper plunge.

3. This is super embarrassing to admit, but I'm a tiny bit into dystopian young adult fiction. I'd like to blame somebody, but personal responsibility dictates that I own my nasty Amazon habit, loud and proud. But, buuuut, after my latest foray into modern Orwellian-aping pseudo lit, I'm proud to say that after spending $8 on Amazon 2 nights ago and devouring the first installment of the "Delirium" trilogy I marched (drove) my disciplined 30-year-old self to not one but two libraries yesterday to pick up books two and three. I should finish the whole series by tomorrow evening, and be none the wiser, smarter, or holier for it...but they're entertaining, and they're smut free. And damn I love me a good post-American dystopia.

4. I took all of your thoughtful advice and input and decided to lurch into a lumbering cantor on Saturday evening and may I just say, my back did not thank me. I may not have gained as much weight yet but my holy Relaxin, that felt really terrible on Sunday around 3 am. Like really terrible. Double stroller power-walking, you're my new favorite.

5. And while this is not a favorite, I would now like to poll the audience about something extremely serious and mysterious: my hair color. Apparently, as the lurking underlayer nearest my neck would seem to indicate, I am no longer actually a blonde. I don't know how long this has been the case, but I mean to get to the bottom of it sometime Saturday morning around 10 am for my annual professional cut and style. I usually do a full set of foils, sometimes I throw some lowlights in there too, just to be crazy, but I think I'm going to allow whatever lucky Aveda lady I get set up with this go-round to conduct some archeological research on my color and get to the bottom of it, so to speak. And also cut off an inch or five.

So this is now: (please overlook the stunned selfie)

And here's what I'm thinking for later:

A.

Darkest espresso + longish layers

B.

Medium with caramel highlights + side bangs

C.

Legit bangs. Terrible idea? + Chocolately brown

Thoughts? Vote me in, and I'll prance down to the Aveda school with a cell phone image in my hot little hands.

Be sure to head over to Hallie's for more mental stimulus than you could shake a stick at.

5 Favorites, With a Brogue

Coming at you live from one very comfortable hotel room in Dublin City center, where we opted for a 2 day layover to break up the transatlantic madness and soak in a little heritage, to boot. Linking up with Hallie because hey, there's free wifi.

1. Irish butter. Mmmm, mmmm good. Like so, so good and not gonna try to pretty this up...Joey ate 4 pats straight up at dinner last night. And we were like, hey, we're not judging you kid...in between bites of french onion soup drenched in Guinness something-or-other and one million ounces of sweet yellow gold. Olive oil was well and good, but holy mother of dairy products, Irish butter takes (and slathers and moistens) the cake.

2. The Guinness Factory tour. Did it. Poured a pint. Drank a pint. Watched surprisingly entertaining interactive videos of coopers making barrels, played in the mother of all sandboxes (a 20x20 box filled with barley) and convinced both boys the amazing glass elevators and waterfalls meant we were at a theme park. Only the theme was 'Mommy and Daddy are actually having a better time than you are.'

We came,

We poured,

We conquered.

World's most awesome sandbox. Minus the sand, plus barley.

Homeschooling. Nailed it.

3. Fish and Chips. Beef and Guinness Pie with Chips. Caesar salad...with Chips. What? I've been in a pasta desert. A wasteland of breads and grain-based carbohydrates. ALL THE POTATOES GET IN MY MOUTH.

4. Irish people: we're awesome! Seriously though, every 10 minutes we'll be walking down the street and Dave leans in to whisper "that girl looked just like your sister Tia" or "Now I see where you get your taste in architecture" and even "everyone here looks like they're related to you." I'm somewhere between 50-60% Irish, but my mom tends to overestimate the amount of shamrock in our shake. After being here less than 24 hours, I can honestly say there are few places I've ever felt more 'at home' in my life. The people do all look like my family members, and everyone does have fabulous pale skin and freckles and is a normal shape and size, etc. And the weather! Glorious cool and comfortable non-Mediteranean climate. Truly, this Isle and I were made for one another.

"Irish ponies are superior to Italian stallions."

5. An Anglo (and I mean this in the 'conquered and populated by Anglo Saxons' kind of way, not a weird racist way) approach to life is seriously refreshing after a season or three spent in a country designed and run by hyper sanguine, espresso-chugging drama kings and queens. As our Italian landlord put it oh-so-perfectly during our farewell meeting: "Never forget, Italy is a country with Scandinavian ambitions operating within a central-African infrastructure." Indeed.

And aside from that, a few man on the street observations about Northern vs. Southern Europeans, from my very professional and detailed study of two cultures, involving 9 months and 9 hours, respectively: Guess how many strangers have touched me today? Zero! Not even my big, tempting belly has had a single unsolicited grope. And the number of heated exchanges and/or physical altercations involving personal space issues/differing opinions on the safe distance to stop a moving vehicle in front of a loaded stroller? Also zero.

What the what? Seriously, my blood pressure is so low, I probably should have had a second Guinness to level things out.

Ireland, thanks for being my gateway drug back into the land of the free and the home of the brave. We'll be back, but next time, we're bringing a babysitter.