7QT: Whole 30 update, baby milestones, and 100% more bacon

1. Can I just start out by saying thank you again for the overwhelming flood of love and support this little blogger received thanks to my pity party of a post on Monday? Well, I'm grateful. And I'm glad I'm not the only crazy in the bunch, as so many of you have reassured me. Solidarity in psychosis.

2. We're on day 13(!) of the Whole 30 and it is going so well. I mean so, so well. Last night we went on a date to Barnes and Noble where we sat side by side for 2 hours in dead silence, drinking tea and reading books we had no intention of purchasing. It cost us $4.17. It was awesome.

The last time we had a date night that cheap I think was...never. Do you know how much more expensive it is to drink something other than flavored water and go to restaurants? Yeah, who knew? But obviously this way of being is not a lifestyle. At least it never could be for us. Has it become less painful now that we're almost at the halfway point? Much. But do I still fantasize about giant glasses of wine and slabs of chocolate cake with salt and vinegar chips sprinkled over the top? I've said too much...

3. If I can take one more take to talk at you about my food, I will just go ahead and post the following to evidence that ain't nobody suffering in this house. Behold my lunch:

Homemade green apple, acorn and butternut-squash soup with coconut milk and curry. With bacon on top. This is not a restrictive way of eating. At least not when it's snowing in bleeping September and I don't mind roasting winter squashes in my oven all afternoon while I dress my urchins in rags from last winter and resolve to go glove shopping soon.

(Recipes here and here. I loosely adapted both to accommodate my very large acorn and butternut squashes, and it is friggin delish. I'll write it all down one day, but just know that it's very hard to screw anything up with squash in it. And there's no dairy! And it's so creamy.

4. This girl. 

When she's not busy gnawing off my nipples (TMI TMI why can't I stop?) and yelling mama and dada, she's busy throwing my parenting for a loop by refusing to look even somewhat interested in crawling, scooting, pulling up or growing legs or feet. (I mean she has legs and feet. They're just pretty much the same size they were at 3 months.) I'm sure she's fine and I'm 100% sure I'm one of the craziest moms on the block, but I'm still taking her in for a weight/development check this afternoon just to rack up one more copay in the name of neurotic parenting. Can't help myself. (She'll be 9 months old on Monday.)

5. Bacon. Can I be frank with you? We've gone through a pound of it since yesterday morning. Can I be more frank? By "we" I mean "I."

Be still my heart? Like, very, very still. Maybe as in no longer beating?

But I'm thisclose to fitting into a size 10, which is crazy because I was a healthy 12 in my magic mom jeans when this adventure started. I've even been able to start running a little bit again, and I feel good. Like really, really good. Power to the pork products.

6. Do you have a grasp on your child(ren)'s temperament? I was mildly obsessed with this book in college and then I was chatting with a girlfriend this week and she brought up the junior version, which I'm dying to get my e-paws on. And she dropped a bit of a bombshell in so doing. While describing her incredibly sanguine firstborn son I realized that she was also describing my unbelievably social firstborn, and I may have had a stern chat with the Man upstairs about why He saw fit to saddle an introverted choleric melancholic with an extroverted sanguine with egomaniacal tendencies. Oy vey. 

7. Hearing/Watching/Reading: Currently spinning in my virtual playlist. Currently streaming on my Amazon prime. Currently hanging out on my nightstand. 

Linking up with Mrs. Fulwiler, Laura Ingraham's hottest new competition.

7 things that are actually pretty awesome about being a SAHM

(linking up with the next big name in broadcasting, Jen Fulwiler)

I think anyone who has spent even a cursory linger or two around the blog knows that I have lots to say about the trials et al. of being a mother of the homebound variety. Sure, I mix it up with the occasional story of warm fuzzies, but there are plenty o' tales of woes and oh-no's to keep you entertained. And I stand behind them. In fact, sometimes I stand over them, mopping and disinfecting.

But today I thought I'd bring a different flavor. While I was choosing an outfit this morning (for mySELF, not even for a small person.) I thought to myself, it is pretty sweet that I get to determine the dress code for the day. Heck, I have unilateral sartorial autonomy! I'm basically a style editor and producer at the haute couture daily edition of Uebbings unlimited. And that's a cool job.

So I present to you a curated collection of 7 really cool things about being a stay at home mom.

1. As alluded to above, I have ultimate dress code authority. For now, it extends over our entire brood. Sure, my almost 4-year-old has some opinions and favors wearing his adorable (thrifted) Converse without socks, but since I vetted and/or purchased every item in his wardrobe, even when he digs through his dresser to assemble a getup that would do a drunken farm animal proud, it looks...decent.

For myself, while pregnancy and the dreaded after effects certainly have a massive influence over my options, I get to choose how dressed (or undressed) I want to be for the day. Lately I've been leaning toward the more dressed end of the spectrum, because it feels so nice to have a put together outfit on, even when I'm just running errands and hunched over a laptop tap tap tapping away on a project during nap time. My girlfriend sent me a link to this girl's daily outfit feature on Instagram (which I don't have, but she cross posts them to Pinterest) and we both fell deep and hard. So today's outfit credit goes to Karla Reed.

2. I make all the food decisions. If I don't want my kids to eat something, I don't buy it. Will they occasionally get their sugar-seeking paws on something at a friend's house or celebration? Of course. And does it matter? Well, we have no food allergies in our family, so nope, not really. 90% of our diet is under my direct jurisdiction, for better or for worse, and so for now, while they're young, I'm focusing on training up little palates to eat broad and wide across the produce aisle, and to snack on protein instead of always binging on carbs. Check back with me in 4 years when everybody's wills and opinions are stronger. I'm sure I'll eat my smug words. (Full disclosure, they're snacking out of a plastic bowl of TJ's cat cookies and Goldfish crackers I set on the front porch right now. Like stray animals.)

3. I get to take naps. Okay that one's actually only relevant when I'm 5 minutes post partum because once the hazy first few weeks clear, I return to my usual neurotic self who cannot, for almost any reason, nap when at home alone with the children. Anxiety abounds, sleep evades.

But still, the potential for napping exists. And my boss won't bust me if I try.

4. Leading me to my next favorite: the flexibility to pursue meaningful, soul-expanding work during the varying pockets of flexible time I find throughout the day. Since Joey was a newborn I've been editing and producing content for Heroic Media News, and I also contribute to Catholic News Agency, Catholic Exchange, and complete the occasional project for Our Sunday Visitor and Endow.

Obviously the caveat here is that writing is what I do, and it can be done from anywhere, but I truly believe that due in large part to the internet and emergent technology and a workplace made a little more humane by ever-increasing influence of the feminine genius, women today, at least in our culture, have more opportunities than in all of human history to make something beautiful, oftentimes in a non-traditional work setting, and to be compensated justly for it.

5. I can call "do-over" on a day that's heading straight to hell. 2 pm and everyone is screaming? Time for a quick trip to Target for a coffee for mommy and some dollar spot browsing for the small ones. (Lucky me, they're still gullible enough that we can return their playthings at the conclusion of our Bullseye session without actually purchasing any more crap to bring into the house. Mostly.)

This means I can hit up the petting zoo farm down the road if I feel like it and the weather permits, or I can make the proverbial 3 am phone call and load up the Odyssey for a 50 minute drive down to grandma's house where terrible coffee, a sun-drenched kitchen and a fenced-in trampoline await us. Pure joy.

6. I don't miss anything unless I want to. (Please know that I am not saying this to offend or wound any moms who choose to work outside the home or who are compelled to do so for reasons beyond their control. I respect you, my friends, and I am grateful for the unique contributions you are making to the economy and to the social order. Truly. I'm just speaking out of my experience on this one.)

This one is a fine line I stumble along every day, because on the one hand, children, give me some peace and quiet and go watch Peg+Cat or throw dirt at each other in the back yard. Please. And on the other hand, almost every night at bedtime finds me holding a chubby head against my chest and stroking soft baby hair and wondering where the days are going, and the years too, for that matter.

The truth is I have a front row seat to every milestone, every success, every tantrum, and every sibling altercation. I can choose to intervene and correct, or to sit back and let the natural order of things play out. Or I can check out entirely (guilty and guiltiest) telling myself that my physical presence is enough for them. And sometimes it is. But more often than that, they want more. They want my attention, they want to captivate me and to share the joy of learning something new about the world or about life. And I'm here to give that to them, if I can pry it out of my selfish and sleep-deprived little grinch heart. And that is such a privilege.

7. I can take the ages and stages as they come. My 2 and-a-half year old son is ready to potty train. I, on the other hand, am not. Potty training means to him, I think, wearing Lightening McQueen tighty whities and whizzing on the pine tree in our back yard at his leisure (thanks, idolized big brother). And many, many pairs of soiled pants per day. Since there's no pressure to get him up to code for daycare or preschool or really, anything, I can take my sweet sweet time and wait until he's 3. Or 11.

Right now my oldest is unbelievably snuggly. I love that he comes up to me and professes his love and admiration over and over again throughout the day. I'm so glad I can soak up this age so that when his dominant, fiery extroverted personality kicks back into high gear I have the sweet memories of a snuggle bunny who just wants to beeeeeeeee with me.

So there you have it, long winded and intensely specific to my experience, but true enough.

What are you favorite things about being a mom who stays home?

7QT: training, nursing babies, and my new momiform

1. The momiform. Here 'tis, folks. At the tender age of 31, I think I've finally settled on a daily uniform that doesn't involve obvious amounts of spandex and/or sweat-wicking performance fabrics.

Flats, studs, skinnies, flowy top, repeat.

Optional seasonal mix ins to include scarves, riding boots and flip flops.

There. Done. Do I look like a grown up? I feel 100% better when I leave the house like this, and shockingly, I still manage to make it to the gym around 4 pm even when I don't strap on my workout gear first thing in the morning. Don't believe the lie, ladies, don't believe the lie...

2. I'm starting work with a personal trainer at said gym next week, 2x's weekly for one month. Inspired by Heather's fearsome results and hoping to do more to combat the chronic back pain that child bearing and child hauling seem to have sentenced me to, I've been promised big results. I tend to believe the spritely, 114 lb girl who will be training me, because she's really nice and has a blinged out miraculous medal ring on her finger, and because I fell down the stairs the day after our first 30 minute session because my thighs gave out. If you can make me fall down the stairs in muscle spasms, you have my business. I'll let you know how it goes.

3. Breastfeeding: the saga continues. Seriously, I had all but thrown in the burp cloth and had even sent a few SOS texts to Grace and to my bff Eliz (no blog, sadly) fabulous formula feeders both with big, healthy babes, and then I decided to try one last resort and scheduled a session with my friendly neighborhood lactation consultant Mariann (literally she's in my address book. Such dairy. So milk.) and what do you know, she told me that Evie might just be teething, that she's 8 months old and eating 3 squares of solids a day, and that if I wanted to keep nursing her I should go ahead and nurse her when I felt like it, as long as it was comfortable, and with the expectation that babies her age can take a full feeding in under 10 minutes. Also she told me to go ahead and use formula too, if it helped me.

What the what? I think the takeaway was that I'm the mom and can decide what's best for baby and me, both. Earth shattering.

Seriously though she's the most amazing woman, and she helped save breastfeeding for me not once but three times. So now Evie is happily snacking in limited amounts of time as long as she promises not to nibble or pull, and as soon as she starts misbehaving, pop goes the bottle in her mouth. Win/win. Oh, and a nightly Guiness is helping my supply recover from our hell week.

4. Which is not strictly Paleo, mind you. Okay it's not even loosely paleo, but my sister in law brought some for Dave's birthday last weekend and it's just taunting me from the fridge. Just like the Chicfila I served to "the kids" for lunch somehow ended up in my mouth, too. Oops.

5. On that note...starting a brand spanking new Whole 30 tomorrow. Why tomorrow? Why, because it's the beginning of Labor Day weekend! And won't it be fun to not eat any chips or buns or beer or cookies at any of the parties we'll be attending?

I figured it would be a good exercise in mental and physical discipline, you know? Because there's always a reason to cheat. Plus, I'm tired as hell every single day even though I'm not pregnant and I'm sleeping 8+ hours a night. Seriously I feel like death by 4 pm every day. I even tried a month of super expensive vitamins and supplements, to no avail. It's got to be the naughty nighties that have crept into my routine (ahem, Guiness. Chocolate that my boss left for the boys after a dinner party the other night (hi Uncle Ollie!) The insanely aromatic banana bread that our wonderful nanny baked with the kids yesterday afternoon.

But no more. I'm putting my foot down for a solid month. I figured that by synching up with my 4 weeks of training at the gym, I'll be giving my postpartum body the biggest push I can muster. Plus, once Fall begins in earnest, I tend to lose major health motivation in the face of an endless stream of holidays and birthdays. So it's now or never!

6. Haley's running a Whole 30 on the Carrot's Facebook page, but I don't know if I can access the closed group without a personal FB account, so I think I'll just troll along on my own. Anyone in? Solidarity?

7. I got nothing, 2/3rds of the household is now awake because their wildly optimistic mother put Evie down for her "morning" nap at 11 am and oops, there goes the afternoon edition. Oh, wait, there is this:

We met Matt Maher this week at a conference and he was gracious enough to take this very awkward photo with a very excited fan. (I am so stupid when I meet famous people. So stupid.) Anyway, I have loved his music for forever. Seriously he's one of the only Christian artists I like, and not just like, but absolutely adore. Speaking of that, he led worship for Adoration and it was beautiful. Real. Brought me back to Steubenville in a good way, in an honest and refreshing and unpretentious way.

Okay, duty calls. See you at Jen's.

p.s. we're not really doing school this year, per se, but this killed me.

7QT: Thrifting, non-pregnant nesting, and the epic saga of breastfeeding woes continues

Ciao, tutti. It's time for another rousing rendition of what's going on inside Jenny's nursing bra.

Just kidding.

Well, mostly. How about 7 quick takes mostly unrelated to lactation? Mostly.

1. I must have caught something from my latest re-read of the Nesting Place, because suddenly I've gone full on guerrilla mode on our humble abode and no piece of furniture is safe (nor is it securely in place) in this home. I hit up my favorite of favorites, my local Savers yesterday with all the bambini in tow, and out we walked with the coffee table-turned-crafting-space of my dreams, a standing floor lamp not from Target and not sporting an upside-down dog collar for a shade, and a giant ass Thomas the Train expandable play tent which has been journeying throughout my house over the past 24 hours and can be thrown satisfyingly down the basement steps at a moment's notice. Best $2 I've ever spent, I think.

2. Isn't this hideous?

3. How about now?

4. I'll tell you what, once I get going with a can of spray paint, I tend to get a little out of control. I'd asked a friend earlier this week to meet me after bedtime at our place for a little crafting and after I spied this beauty on Pinterest I decided there were enough droplets of turquoise paint left in the can to coat our wreaths. We also followed this simple felted flower tutorial and with our hot glue guns and a couple bottles of Stella, we had ourselves a good old fashioned girl's night in. The great news is that when we're both 65 years old, we will already have the template for what qualifies as a "good time" down pat.

I'm in love with this wreath. I'd like to take it out to dinner.

6. Speaking of being old and fabulous and domestic, would you guys like it if I did some kind of weekly or bi-weekly thrifting post? I know it's not the "tone" of this blog, per se, but I take so much delight in finding worthless crap and giving it a second chance at life. I also take joy in finding J Crew lovelies with the original tags still on, but that's not quite the same thing. So what do you think? Should I branch out from bodily fluids, Catholic apologetics and s-e-x and give you more frequent glimpses into the deep, dark world of my Goodwill addiction?

5. But let's talk about what you really came here to read about today: Nipplegate 2014. Let's start with the good news. The good news is that I have the very best hookup with the sweetest IBCLC on the planet, and after a 911 call to her voicemail earlier this week, she counseled me over the phone (in Target, obviously. My deepest condolences, fellow shoppers in the lamps and home goods department) and she was encouraging + compassionate and just the right touch of "well, 8 months is a fantastic amount of time to nurse, and if you want to to ahead and try the one-sided route, that's a great idea, and if not, that's great too."

(Basically she's the perfect combination of confidence, professionalism and compassion. If you live in Denver or the surrounding area and ever find yourself in need of such services, I'm happy to point you her way.)

This is an unrelated picture of a reindeer. Never will I ever invite the neighbors to the lame-ass birthdays we throw for our own toddlers.

The bad news is that while I was letting things heal up on the injured side, the uninjured workhouse, old right n' reliable, got an overuse injury or something and now I'm having a doubly uncomfortable time replete with all manner of unmentionable horrors (Dave already is aghast I've said so much on the blog. But you all are so helpful! How can I hold back?). The bottom line is that as of last night, I'd gone 24 hours without nursing or pumping on one side, and my supply is tanking. I'd all but decided we were officially broken up in the breastfeeding department but then around 10:30 pm I burst into her room in a fit of hormonal angst and dream fed her. So, I don't really know where that leaves us. She's probably taking 90% of her liquids by bottle now, but I'm resolved to keep nursing her first thing in the morning and last thing at night, if she wants and if my supply can rise to the challenge. Ugh, motherhood is just full of feeeeeeeeeelings and stuff.

Evie be like "I don't give a bleep just feed me. Anything."

7. Whichever one of you brilliant people recommended Peg + Cat is my very favorite, because my kids can count and add and subtract...and I've done nothing. Now this is my idea of homeschooling.

See you over at Jen's place.

7 Quick takes: sibling harmony, Whole 30 in real life, and a 180 on schooling choices

Welcome, Friday. You are most welcome here, indeed.

(Linking up with Jen, who spotted a very sweet photo-bomber in our picture of a group of us taking a picture.)

1. All my kids are playing together. I'm sitting mere feet from them on the couch, minding my own business and click clacking away and so far (knock on a timber-filled forest) nobody has asked me for anything for the past 5 minutes. Is this the mythical light at the end of the tunnel I've heard so much about? Play on, small people. I'll just be over here not touching or being touched by anyone. ThankyouJesus.

2. I woke up before the boys this morning and, rather than rolling over and going an extra 45 in dreamland, I got up like an adult and drank my coffee and ate my loathsome eggs and as a result, I haven't spent the first half of the day feeling like a hungover servant with a persecution complex. It's fantastic. We've been to the gym, I've mopped all the floors, and lunch has already been served and eaten. 

3. Oh, speaking of food...well, this happened last night.

And while I'd normally be wallowing in my perceived failure (and possibly some sea salt dark chocolate almonds) instead I'm just savoring the delicious memory and eating paleo today like it never happened. I mean, I suppose my cravings are a tad stronger because of my dalliance with MSG, but it's fine and more than that, it's realistic. A friend and I are both making a big effort to shed our baby weight and are using similar means to get there, along with texting each other for support and accountability. After hearing her plan to eat very similarly but to incorporate one "cheat meal" into her week, I decided to do the same because it's brilliant! And it's realistic, as it allows for life to happen. Got a party to attend or a big feast day to celebrate? Enter the cheat meal. It feels very balanced.

4. I weighed in on Monday and was deliriously happy to see that I'm down 11 lbs overall, and I've lost 6.5 inches total since we began less than a month ago. This is with a healthy amount of the above-mentioned cheating, nothing more strenuous than walking (though I'm logging a minimum of 4 miles per day) and a whole lot of eggs. And lettuce. I'll take it.

5. Fall is coming. Yesterday I was at my parent's house and my mom lit a pumpkin spice candle and I almost sprouted riding boots and a patterned scarf just from inhaling the aroma. Hold me back. Helpfully for my restraint, it's still 85 degrees here and I bought the kids a slip n slide off the clearance rack at Target. Because back to school shopping has trumped the thermometer, and all the beach gear is 50% off.

6. Speaking of back to school, guess who's not going back to school? Yeah, us. Despite years of protest and a firm belief in my own mental deficiency in pretty much anything math or science related, I've decided to try my hand at pre-schooling Joey at home this year. We really liked our parish school and he mostly liked being there, but I couldn't quite get the hand of the driving thing. 40 minutes in the car twice a day for a 2.5 hour program was a bit excessive. 

My other motivator was the fact that, despite having been in the classroom for 5 months (January-May) his end of year report indicated that he had zero letter or number recognition. Zilch. Nada. Naturally, my very measured reaction to this information was unbridled panic and the assumption of massive learning disabilities and cognitive delays. Never mind that he was the youngest child in his classroom, that he possesses the vocabulary of a 50 year old man, and can operate every electronic device in our house with aplomb. I panicked and dropped like $30 on alphabet magnets, bathtub letters and flashcards but what do you know, after a summer home with me, he can count, do some basic adding and subtracting, and knows a whole bunch of letters by sight. We just started working with this book this week, per the recommendation of several homeschooling moms I know, so we'll see what kind of progress we can make. He pretty much hates it so far, so I'm thinking he's either not ready or I need to break the lessons in half? Idk, completely blindsided by this plot twist.

7. And that $2,000 we'll be saving on preschool this year? I'm thinking of spending it entirely on babysitting and tequila. Happy weekend!

7QT: In which I make a confession

1. Hi, my name's Jenny, and I'm an introvert. Cough.

2. If it weren't for the internet, I would go entire days without speaking to anyone outside my immediate family, save for my awkwardly friendly checker at Trader Joe's and the even more awkward interactions I occasionally sustain from my driveway with my neighbors.

3. So when you comment...are you ready for this? IT FILLS MY HEART WITH SO MUCH JOY. Because it's like virtual interaction minus the actual interaction part, y'all. But then...oh, then...the back log. The mounting pressure of having no way to respond to so many (no emails linked to names) or just simply not enough time in the day (kids, work, baby, back episodes of Parenthood on Amazon Prime. Priorities) to reply to every single one and then I get, like, panic-attacky in the dark of night, thinking back over all the lovely, thought provoking and insightful things that people have said and that I HAVE YET TO ACKNOWLEDGE. And I feel bad. Real bad. Because I'm a blogger...and we LIVE for comments. It's like a little kiss from the universe for the effort we put into over-sharing on the internet.

4. So I'm renewing my effort, here and now, to keep more on-top ish of the com box. But...but...if you don't hear from me and you weren't asking a direct question or trying to locate a specific resource, the radio silence you may experience from my end is in no way evidence of my indifference to your virtual attention. I am so grateful for every single comment and every reader this here little blog has. It's just that I also have a mini pack of needlets who are constantly pulling me into the backyard to play baseball or yelling to me about a bodily fluid situation from across the house. And then during the 45 minutes each day that they're (sometimes) all quiet at once? Well, my little introverted heart sighs in blessed relief and I collapse onto the couch and stare vacantly out the window. Or I vacuum. Gosh I love to vacuum...

5. So won't you forgive a mother blogger and her ineptitude in the social media interactivity component of blogging? It's not that I don't care, it's just that I care so much it hurts my brain.

6. And actually, I'm kind of an undercover introvert. If you meet me in real life (I'm looking at you, Edel gals) I'm fairly outgoing-seeming and I like to make people laugh and I can even do a really convincing imitation of a party-loving extrovert, especially with a little liquid courage in my wine glass.

7. But make no mistake. When the sun goes down, I can be found quietly rocking myself back and forth, back and forth (love you forever, like you for always, anyone?) in a dark, quiet room, trying to regain some semblance of mental equilibrium.

Introvert in an extrovert's world up in here.

What about you? I get the feeling sometimes that there are more introverts than extroverts in the blogosphere, just because it's such a natural fit.

Also, I'm an INTJ on the Meyer's Briggs scale. If that helps.

See you at Jen's place.

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p.p.s. Please, please please please consider linking your email to your name in your comment form. It means the world to me when I do have the time and wherewithal to respond because then when I finish tap tapping a little reply email I don't experience that hulking dread when that little 'no-reply at blogger.com' message pops up, indicating to me that I've just spent precious human resources emailing cyberspace and not an actual human. Grace has a great tutorial on how to do this, here.

7QT: Weight loss after baby and 'the new normal'

Joining Jen et. al. for the weekly.

So I was aaaaaaall set to bang out a couple trite lines today about keeping your nose to the grindstone and sticking to a clean eating plan and letting those mommy pounds roll off your back(fat) but then, but then...I happened to clickity click over to Bonnie's place before I opened my blogger window and bam. Gut check. Reality check. Reminder of what really matters, aesthetically speaking.

So I'll still share my personal experiences with the body after baby...but maybe in a less ascorbic tone? Heck, I'm still working on getting dressed in the morning (this post was super inspiring in that regard) and making a teeny bit of time for daily prayer (mostly fail, but I'm trying.) so this is very, very much a work in progress. End disclaimer.

Lipstick, earring, huge sunglasses. No shower necessary.

My bag 'o tricks for getting back to normal:

1. Walking. Sounds a little disappointing, right? Wrong. I was an avid runner (think 5 half marathons) before I had kids and so far, until this post partum period, I would spend months trying to coax my stretched and taxed body back into something resembling race shape so I could proudly reclaim my identity of 'runner.' This time around, thanks to a healthy dose of reality (I have very little, very needy kids and even less energy and no apparent chunk of time in which I might even attempt to run) I've decided to embrace my inner grandma and ... walk it out.

Plus, while living in Rome during the first 2 trimesters of this most recent pregnancy, I gained almost zero weight until week 21, a feat which has never even come close to being repeated. I chalk it up to the daily grind of 3-4 miles of casual walking which was oh-so-conveniently integrated into daily life there. Plus 80+ pounds of stroller weight to muscle around.

Now obviously I'm not able to exactly replicate that whilst living in far-flung suburbia, but I've been trying to log miles either on the walking trail in the evening or at the gym, and on the days I can hit that magic 3 mile mark...I feel pretty good.

2. Arbonne protein shakes. I attempted their 28 day detox program but then was slightly distracted by a combination of a family-wide stomach flu epidemic and then an impromptu trip to Italy involving multiple days of pasta/gelato/pastries/wine/repeat ... but I've still managed to shed about 12 lbs since I started incorporating their protein shakes and a daily cup or two of their detox tea into my diet. Here's a fun fact: my best friend (that's not her on the splash page; she's hotter than that) is an executive vice president in their company, and she regularly hooks me up with steeply discounted product. Since I'm giving her a little shine here today, she graciously offered to host a giveaway for a bag of my fav: vegan, GF chocolate protein powder ($69 value) `which, when mixed with ice, water, and a banana, tastes about as close to ice cream as I'll let myself come most days. You can enter a couple different ways at the end of this post.

3. The Perfect Health Diet. Bought the book ala Jen's recommendation, devoured it in about a day and a half (it's very, very 'science' soooo...be warned.) and immediately began trying to implement the dietary recommendations. I've yet to get on the supplement train, but on the days when I do eat in the proportions recommended by the authors, I feel really good and my blood sugar is scary stable. (Basic framework: 1 lb of proteins, 1 lb of safe starches, 2 lbs of leafy green things per day)

4. Showering. I know, I know...the irony. But here's the thing: when I make the effort to put myself together for the day, even if it's only in my favorite sweat skirt (I feel dirty just typing that) I make better choices re: food and exercise. And I just feel better when I catch a glimpse of my clean momself in the mirror and don't see a greasy teenager staring back at me.

5. Positive self talk. I know, I know...the worst. But actually the best. And if you can change the narrative in your head about the way you see yourself, you'll start to actually see yourself. Like the way God sees you. And the way your husband sees you. And you'll start to make peace with yourself for looking exactly as you do right now, in this season, instead of longing for some you of yesteryear with a 28 inch waist and a closet full of size 6 jeans. And when you are kind to yourself, you'll actually make better choices concerning food and exercise. It's amazing.

6. Avoid the sugar. I know, I know, it's a bit of a reiteration of #3, but seriously...added sugar is what makes food hit my brain like crack. I've always fancied myself a salty gal, but when I started to really look at the labels of my salt-laden favorites, I realized they were actually loaded with sugar, and since I don't get the same 'buzz' from salted almonds, for example, as from salt and vinegar potato chips, it's probably not just the salt that's driving my fierce need to empty the whole bag.

7. Nine months on, nine months off (or longer, depending on how close together your kids are/how many pregnancies you've had). Horrifying? Perhaps a bit. Realistic? Yep.

Our bodies are doing some pretty heavy lifting (har har) during our childbearing years, and when you couple gestating with lactating, well...some things just aren't going back to 'normal' anytime soon. You have a new normal. No, this does not mean you will forever be 30 lbs overweight and looking perpetually 5 months pregnant, but, there are certain things that make a body hang onto lbs like there's a famine on the horizon, and for yours truly, that's breastfeeding. I'm resigned to the reality that as long as I'm lactating, I'm going to have a good 12-15 lbs of 'backup weight' my body just refuses to surrender. Okay baby, you win this round.

Hope these were moderately helpful and not boring as hell. Back to sipping my espresso and pulling my wild animals off each other's throats. Happy Friday!

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7 Quick Takes: Boys, endless eating, detoxing, a baby swing, and dystopian teen lit

What? Too many and varied topics in one meager quick takes header? Yeah, maybe. . .

1. But I stayed out till 10 o'clock feasting my eyes on the visually assaulting and sensory-overlaoding 'Divergent,' and found myself shoveling salty, unbuttered popcorn into my mouth in a mindless cycle of dig/grab/stuff while the screen exploded in violent, rapid-firing images in front of me. The movie was good, and pretty faithful to the book, but my sister and I both experienced the odd phenomenon of 'dystopian drift,' for lack of a better explanation, where every end-timesy novel we'd read in the past couple years melded together in our brains, rendering the storyline of the film both surprising and kind of confusing.

At several points I was really concerned with where Katniss was hiding in all the wreckage of the bombed-out Chicago skyline, and I also couldn't quiet the nagging fear that this was all supposed to be taking place in the Pacific Northwest, and that nobody was supposed to be touching anyone else.

Moral of the story: I probably need to dabble in other literary genres. But Divergent was good! Go see it.

2. My boys are skinny and on the short side, but they eat like ravenous animals. Joey in particular is like, 32 lbs and the shortest (well, and youngest with a September b-day) in his class but he begs food like an angry line backer on a Sunday afternoon. I can't remember where I read this concept, but I allow them free access to 'cranky cheese' in a drawer in the fridge - either Baby Bells or string cheeses - in the hopes that their blood sugar levels will stay relatively stable between meals. They don't. And, they beg for food and milk all day long, and on the days where I wearily acquiesce, they proceed to boycott their dinners, screaming about how unappetizing everything is.

Then, for his piece de resistance, Joey cries hunger at bedtime. Every night. And begs for food because 'his tummy hurts all around' and he is 'really, really hungry.' And because I'm a sucker, and because how can a mother refuse to feed her skinny child, I give him milk. Or a mouthful of peanut butter. Sleep, rinse, repeat.

Any thoughts? He was actually a much better eater when he was gluten-free (and that's another story for another post). Now he's a picky, bossy 3.5 year beggar. Who orders 'cappuccinos' (a steamed milk, courtesy of our espresso machine) many mornings of the week.

3. Speaking of raising male wolves, any suggestions on how to pry them off my ankles for large portions of the day? I read this fascinating piece in the Atlantic earlier this week, and then Michelle's wonderful post on being a Little House on the Prairie Mom, but I can't seem to convince them to leave me alone. Unless I'm trying to get them into the car and then, you know.

By the by, our backyard looks eerily like the 'adventure playground' featured in the Atlantic article. Complete with abandoned plastic bottles, piles of dangerous looking wood, and perhaps the occasional nail. So man up, boys!

4. Screen time. I had a great conversation with an acquaintance at an Annunciation party this week (envious of our social life?) about how she cut her two boys off from screens, cold turkey, and they turned into amazing readers and creative little souls almost overnight. Almost. Anyway, we're on day 3 and it's kind of killing me, but we've had no Curious George nor any Daniel Tiger in our house for 72 hours and counting…we'll see how long mommy can hold out.

My main motivation for limiting the little monsters' time in front of the laptop is mainly because Joey acts like a crack fiend when his show is over. Even when he senses the story arc beginning its descent towards denouement, he starts jonesing for his next hit and bargaining with me for 'just one more, just one more.' It's sick. And I'm over it. I may be afforded 20 minutes of quiet for a private shower and blowout, but I pay dearly for it in the form of back talk, whining, fighting, and crying the rest of the afternoon. I hate it. So we're experimenting with life in 1994. Wish us luck.

5. I had a couple requests for the pesto recipe I mentioned in Wednesday's post, so here it is, loosely adapted from this one:

-3 cups loosely-packed fresh basil (de-stemmed)
-1/2 cup (ish) fresh parmesan chess
-3-4 tablespoons extra virgin Italian olive oil
-1-2 cloves crushed garlic
-1/2 cup raw almonds
-2 tbs fresh lemon juice
-sea salt and pepper to taste

Dump it all in the food ninja or your food processor of choice and blend away. I have to make it in batches because my ninja is teeny, but eventually the whole batch fits in there. It's just a process of getting the basil condensed. This stuff is delicious and potent and a little bit goes a long way when tossed with pasta or basted over chicken or spread on sandwiches. It keeps in the fridge for 4 days…at least that's the longest we've ever had it on hand. :) I've heard you can spoon it into ice cube trays and freeze it and then pop the cubes out and keep them in a baggie in the freezer. Again, we've just never had leftovers…

6. I'm a terrible mother, and I just pushed both birdies from the nest into the backyard so "Mommy could finish her work." And here I sit, 'working' … also, Genevieve has this swing and I love it. And she sleeps in it kind of a lot. And has a flat spot on the back of her head. Am I the worst mother, truly?

7. I'm starting Arbonne's 30 day detox Monday, (hopefully, if it arrives soon enough. And my bff is a consultant, so I did not pay that price for it.) and I'm really excited to blog it all out for accountability purposes. And because people can never get enough of reading about stupid things other people are doing to lose weight and get healthy, right?

Anyway, after seeing myself on camera (I guest-hosted Heroic Media News this week and I'll return again next week - the show should be live on EWTN by late April) in the edited footage, I had a mini actual panic attack. And I know I'm only 13 weeks out from Evie's birth. And and and…it's still hard as hell to see yourself looking like a complete stranger because of how your body has been ravaged by childbirth. Always hard. Hopefully I'll see some results aaaaand I'll have a fun giveaway up on the blog at the end of it.

Now off to Jen's with you, and a very happy weekend.

7 Quick Takes

1. It's over 50 degrees here today, which means my boys are cavorting in the backyard wearing only light vests and let's be honest, no socks. Shoes, but no socks. We're now that family.

2. I am still deeply mourning for the glory that was Downton, Seasons 1 and 2. If I wanted that kind of horror, frankly, I'd be watching CSI.

3. I am feeling a tad bit Romesick today after fielding emails from two of our dearest friends over there. I should probably click back through the 'ol archives to remind myself how emphatically un-rose-colored daily life there actually was, but instead I'll let the happy amnesia of time take away all the bad and leave only the good, sweet, and beautiful intact. Ah, bella Roma…

(American medical care, a mini van, friends and family, Super Target, Mass in English, traffic laws, air conditioning, … there, now I'm back to reality.)

4. I have this 3 year old and, oh, my goodness, what is it about this age? One moment they're a bundle of precious psuedo-babyness with chubby cheeks and they next minute they're bombing down the driveway (strictly against protocol) on their bikes and trying to get him by passing cars, I swear. Or yelling 'Stupid Mommy!' as one fruitlessly searches for one's keys in the Walmart parking lot. You haven't really hit rock bottom as a parent until you've been verbally abused by your offspring in the Walmart parking lot.

5. I am writing this fifth take from a perch on our milk box on the front porch, watching the Bobbsey twins fight over stepping each other's shadows with a baby strapped to my chest and sitting partially obscured by our dead Christmas tree which has yet to make the long migration aaaaaaall the way to the curb. I think this tells you all you need to know about this week.

6. The baby won't tolerate dairy or being put down for a hot second while the sun still shines, so the Ergo and tequila are still the winningest combination.

7. I've had so many inquiries and questions regarding travel to Italy with babies and specifically accommodations, transportation and sightseeing in Rome that I think I'm going to add a "life and travel in Rome" tab to the 'ol blog. All these people gearing up to head over for the canonization of JPII probably has a teensy bit to do with my aforementioned Romesickness, but it will be fun to put together a list of 'must sees' and advice for other happy travelers who are planning a great escape.

Boring, random, and right on time. Go see Jen for more.

7 Quick Takes from Under a Rock

...aka life with a newborn. Or at least the way life ought to be with a newborn.

1. This is my first go-round where hideous, creeping PPD hasn't been on the menu for the post partum period, and oh my GOD is it a game changer. (I say that prayerfully. I am so profoundly grateful for not having to shoulder that cross this time around.) I am actually experiencing those moments of joy and wonder where I've got nothing more pressing on my agenda than staring at my sweet baby's fluffy duckling hair and pink cheeks. Okay, that's a lie, I've had a fair share of weepy/enraged outbursts and, okay, certain members of this household have really let their personal hygiene standards sliiiiide (I'm looking at you, 21 month old who pissed on the oriental rug yesterday morning) … but for the most part, it's like a honeymoon. If a honeymoon involved very little sleep, relaxation, or clothing that was attractive in any way, shape, or form. But still, it's good. So good.

She looks the grumpiest, but she's really the best.

2. I've been trolling everyone else's blog and reading some of those end of the year recap posts and thinking about what I want to accomplish/shoot for this year, and to be honest, it's not really something I generally go in for. New Year's resolutions are somewhere between wearing green on St. Patrick's day and eating hot dogs on the 4th of July in my hierarchy of holiday observations, but I think reading some excellent and insightful content from other peoples' mental to-do lists has inspired a touch of aspiration in me. Just a touch. I thought about the possibility of having a word to inspire/aspire to for the new year, and I came up with 'Focus.' Which is really fairly ridiculous, because I now have 3 kids 3 and under, the best sleeper in the lot is 18 days old, and I'm stupid tired all the time. But I think I might be stupid tired for the next several decades, actually. So I want to sharpen my moments, if you will, into something resembling meaningful experiences, be they tedious read-alouds with the non-verbal set or cathartic late-night vacuuming sessions to soothe my tired soul. (Please tell me I'm not alone?) So, Focus. As in, wherever you are, be there. Be all in. So 2014, I'm going all in. And I'm going to start by purchasing 3 different sizes of diapers in bulk.

3. Reading actual books. I spend so much time on the internet and so much time reading 800 word snippets of news! information! breaking! relevant! now! that I'm kind of rusty in the practice of actually consuming entire volumes of thematic information. And I don't think it speaks well for my intellect that the past 10 works of fiction I've dipped into would all be on the same shelf at the library, and that shelf would also include the Twilight series. Dystopian YA fiction, we're on a break. I'll call you when I've had my space. I'm loving reading her list and also hers, and then I happened upon this one last night and basically i have my work cut out for me. And speaking of libraries, I should probably start using one again because Kindle will bankrupt us on my watch if I'm not more careful.

4. Okay also this one.

Because a friend of mine wrote it. And I love this picture of Papa. I'm really hoping to work through EG as a couple this year, but daily reflections are probably more along our stupid tired speed right now.

5. My baby, that adorable squishy fluffy haired baby, hates dairy and alcohol. I'm like, seriously kid, you were friggin conceived in Italy, put your game face on… but she's like, "No thanks mom, I'd prefer if you'd stick to seltzer water and lara bars. Okay, and scrambled eggs are fine with your black espresso."

Little tyrant.

(Hence the above-pictured lime soda water I'm currently enjoying for my midday happy hour on the front stoop. Did I mention it's 60 degrees in Denver today?)

6. In the spirit of being more 'focused' I'm going to try really hard to write at the same time each day, be that for the blog, for Catholic Exchange, for CNA, or for some other publication. What that translates to on a practical level will be a steadier stream of content, I hope, though perhaps slightly less frequent posting overall. But the fact that my nap-boycotting three year old is shrieking at me from his room right now is probably a fair indication of how this will pan out.

7. Speaking of being up to my ears in babies…does anybody out there in blogland use a mother's helper? Where did you find such a magical creature, what do you pay them, how many hours per week do you employ them, and how do you define their roles? Ideally I'm looking for 10 hours of housework/meal prep/kid entertaining so that I can either a. nurse the baby b. hit a deadline or c. leave the house for a mental health break/a work meeting. Can a mother's helper meet these pressing and exciting needs? Should I offer a 401k package? Do I need to clean my house frantically every day before she shows up so I won't engage in self-shaming behavior the entire time she is here? Do tell.

Head over to Jen's, the list-whisperer, for more.

7 Quick Takes

I can't coast forever on the fumes of my resurrected 'new' posts showing up en masse this week, I suppose, so I'll take the lazy mom's hack and join Jen for a few.

1. I had the craziest conversation with my fantastic masseuse tonight, who may or may not have started JP's labor last time around. This time around? I didn't beg her to pull out the big guns yet, but I definitely feel closer to the finish line after a good 60 minute pummeling. If you have a Chinese reflexology place in your vicinity, I implore you to go check it out. A-mazing. And 30 bucks. For an hour. I would literally pay somebody 100 for the incredible work she does, but I don't have to. So I just tip her ridiculously well and send aaaaaaall my pregnant/stressed/injured/breathing friends her way as referrals. Eastern medicine for the win, at least in this arena. But her story … just stay tuned, because it's worth an entire post - hell, an entire book.

2. John Paul is so adorable this week. And so snuggly. Actually it's borderline obsessive snuggly.

In my bed, inches from my head, no better place to be.

I think if he could, he would crawl back into hotel uterus, grab his sister by the scruff of her neck, toss her into his crib and settle in for the winter. He wants to be lying on me all the time, nuzzling my neck and breathing up my nose and I honestly think he would ingest me if he could somehow figure out how to. He also has a sweet, sweet devotion to Mama Mary and points her out at every possible opportunity, going so far as to sleep with a little figure from one of our nativity sets in his bed. I can only presume that baby is indeed imminent, and he senses it, and that he is most likely going to be Pope one day. Nicely played, John Paul Franics. You needn't even take a new name. Though Benedict XVII has a nice ring to it…

3. So many carbs. I can't stop eating, and the scale is recording my every transgression. I always forget about this last 2-5 week period where all bets are off and even if I've managed a very reasonable 30 something increase up to this point…well, de nada. Because the last month of pregnancy for me is like the fatty fall round up of all of nature's hibernating beasts. And I'm the one eating all the acorns and drinking all the honey and you just never know when you're going to need that extra burst of energy so yes, I will eat that peanut butter sandwich at 3 am. And then I'll wonder why my belly enters a room 4.3 seconds before I do.

I'm giving these credit for 33% of my November/December weight gain.

4. My dad casually mentioned to me in conversation the other day that my mom was, quote, "reading your blog in bed last night and laughing so hard that he was concerned," and that "he was just trying to finish 'Mockingjay' but she kept interrupting him to read him excerpts." I honestly just, don't, … no words.

5. I took the plunge and moved all my kids' toys (except for a single basket of books and a small ottoman full of a few select items) to the basement today. My main level looks amazing, and I spent at least 23 cumulative minutes going up and down the basement stairs breaking up fights/checking for the blood that must surely be accompanying that gawdawful noise/resetting the damn Curious George episode to minute 1. So I think at this rate, I can plan on having a much less cluttered and beautiful living space, and possibly canceling my gym membership also. And maybe having a home birth on the basement stairs.

6. We had a local tragedy today that ended about as well as something like a school shooting could have ended, but is still cause for great sorrow. Arapahoe high school is about 2 miles from our house, so we were effectively on our own lockdown all afternoon from the resultant traffic of the emergency response at the school. Please pray for all the students involved. And please don't think Colorado is some batshit crazy cowboy country filled with crazed gun-toting teenagers out for blood. I know our reputation is not super stellar, but I wish I could convey the reality that this is a safe place, a good place to live, and that a few lunatics do not a society of bad apples make. I do think our public schools could benefit from a little good 'ol fashioned catechism and discipline, however, because if they're not getting it at home and they can't have it at school, then when exactly can we expect character formation, personal responsibility, basic moral instruction and a rudimentary explanation of good vs. evil to take place in these kids' hearts? Are we hoping the hours of daily media intake coupled with absentee parents will do the trick?

I'll never forget the day Columbine unfolded. I was a sophomore in high school about 50 miles south of Littleton (ironically we live about 5 miles from Columbine, now) and our gym teacher pulled us into the wrestling loft to tell us the news. I remember her very seriously explaining that something like that would never, ever happen to us at our school, and that if anybody did try to hurt us, she would die before letting them get past her. It was both traumatizing and deeply moving, and it stuck with me. I hope the kids at Arapahoe High School today had a similar encounter with the heroic faculty and staff who helped to keep them safe by following the unfortunate protocols we've developed and perfected since that dark day in April 1999.

7. Ending on an insipid up note - meet my new bff:

I did not pay full retail for this beauty, but the sale I availed myself of has passed.

When I was pregnant with JP I won a Timi and Leslie bag at a fancy baby store open house, and it was the cadillac of diaper bags. Sadly, it met its maker in bella Roma, but only after being schlepped across multiple borders of many countries, enduring blistering heat, freezing rain, and sweltering trips to the beach, and carting the worldly goods of mama +2 all over the US and then Italy. I vowed that one day I would again own a diaper bag that didn't look like a diaper bag, and then, clicking around the inter webs on cyber Monday, I found my new partner in crime. My favorite part of it is the cross-body strap. My least favorite part is the unstructured-and-kind-of-a-cellphone-and-keys-black-hole-main-compartments. But really, I could buy a diaper bag organizer insert. Or I could just put my keys/phone/wallet in the same place every time like a responsible adult instead of vomiting the contents of my center console into the bag whenever I exit my mom chariot. Only time will tell.

Now that you've digested thee most random of the week's takes (I'm taking liberties and bestowing that honor upon myself) head over to Jen's for more coherent lists. Or endless examples of holiday gift giving guides and gingerbread recipes. It really could go either way…

p.s. Did you see, Baby Lily is going home tomorrow, sans feeding tube! She even nursed successfully during two of her feeds today - praise God! Our Lady of La Leche is coming through for this little lady big time, keep your prayers coming.

7 Quick Takes

1. Locked mah kids in the car today in the TJ Maxx Homegoods parking lot. More accurately, John Paul locked the pair of them in moments after I slammed the trunk shut. Upon hearing the fearsome 'beep, beep' I stuck my nose to the window to see a grinning 1 year old clutching a key fob and hitting 'lock' over and over again. 23 minutes and many, many mommy spectators later, we negotiated a tense and delicate cross-aisle handover from little to big brother, and my genius 3 year old (not quite smart enough to unbuckle his carseat on his own, however) correctly interpreted our frantic demonstrations of pushing 'the lefthand button!' and clicked them both free. Strangers were hugged, cheers erupted, and froyo was purchased and doled out to the survivors. The hugger complimented me on my cool collectedness throughout the ordeal, and I just wanted to be all, "thanks for not calling the cops."

pretty much.

2. Dave's boss came over for dinner tonight, which is kind of intimidating in its own right, considering, but in this case, was mildly panic inducing to a pregnant mama who is averaging maaaaaybe 3 cooked dinners per week. He is a lovely and affable gent, however, and a certain 3-year-old may or may not have had him under his spell before the night was out. In my opinion, it was Joey's impressive theological knowledge (he kissed his ring) coupled with the very winsome way he scooped the toppings off of several pieces of bruschetta before offering bare bread to our esteemed guest that cemented the friendship. That or the forced read-aloud of 25 minutes of Mother Goose with "Joey" replacing every actual name in the book. What can I say? We throw killer dinner parties.

"Can I kiss your ring?"

3. This baby be getting crazy up in here. She is flipping and flopping all over the place, but while the boys felt violent in their movements, she feels more like I'm smuggling a pack of kittens under my shirt. I'm really hoping all this wiggling around results in some flippage before out next ultrasound appointment, but after hearing from some lovely friends including sweet Ana and Mary, I'm less intimidated about the spectre of a 'breech' baby which my erstwhile Bradley education had me fearing with every fiber of my being.

4. My South Bend native sweetheart is going Han Solo to the Air Force/Notre Dame game, and I'm trying to think of fun ways to pass the Saturday afternoon/evening alone with the wolf cubs. So far I've come up with 1. volunteering via conscription in the parish nursery during the 4:30 pm Mass (should be a dream) and eating a very early dinner somewhere Mexican-y. Any chick flicks lurking around that I should be queuing up for my introverted evening in?

5. I happend upon a newly-opened H&M in my neighborhood the other night, and I scored some of the cutest maternity clothes that I've ever purchased in all my gestational years. With the deafening Euro house mix bumping on the speakers and all the confusing sizes, I felt right at Rome sweet home. Even down to the not-so-minor detail that my big American butt doesn't fit into their pants, at least not in any size I'd care to take home with me.

6. John Paul and I spent 10 minutes snapping selfies when his nap ended early this afternoon, and he took great delight in modeling several (clean) pair of Joey's undies on his head, cackling with unmitigated glee at the sight of himself. Joey was less than amused upon discovering the evidence...

7. How cute are my parents? I made my mom's Christmas cards for her when I was home last weekend, and this shot was perfect for the flip side.

Head on over to Cari's to see what the rest of Jen's minions are up to today.

7 Last Songs of Summer

I don't listen to a ton of music, but after being abroad for the better part of 3 seasons this year, I experienced a unique glut of enjoyable, 'new to me' music when we got home in August, and suddenly picky me had like, five songs I regularly bump now on repeat rather than the usual one or two.

I should probably mention that my taste is horribly pedestrian, I pick songs to like based entirely upon gut feeling, and I listen to a 'new' song anywhere from 20-30 times in a row until just the opening lines of it are sufficient to induce nausea. So maybe don't take musical advice from me. Or maybe do, because look at this awesome selection I've curated. Be warned, the genres are many and for one in particular, the sap factor is high. Enjoy at your own risk.

1. Get Your Shine On - Florida Georgia Line

2.  Sing Loud - Alpha Rev

3. Royals - Lorde

4. Gone Gone Gone - Phillip Phillips

5. Dancing in the Mine Fields - Andrew Peterson

6. Hey Pretty Girl - Kip Moore

7. Running Out of Moonlight - Randy Hauser

I understand if you don't want to be friends anymore, because God knows even my three year old is begging me to find a 'song about baby tigers' so disgusted is he with my sophomoric and uncultivated musical tastes. But it's my laptop, kid.

Happy freaking weekend. Hope Jen and the crew lead you to many happy hours of blog hopping.

7 Quick Takes from the Burbs

1. Yes, they found our luggage, Fryes intact. The only real casualty was a $4 pottery barn votive holder that, being one of the 3 pieces of home decor that survived our transatlantic move on both ends, I was inappropriately attached to anyway. So, win/win.

2. I love the suburbs. I love living 10 minutes from 2 different Super Targets and 100 different varieties of ethnic and fast food. I know it smacks of American consumerism at its worst, blah blah blah...but you know what's worse than consumerism? Having zero choice in whether or not you will, in fact, be partaking in said consumption. Rachel Lucas, a fellow recent Italy-to-America ex-pat, put it far more eloquently than I ever could. And with more f-bombs. Fair warning. But America, you are good. Some people can't handle the good, take the good to excess, are consumed by the good...but that's not your fault. People are responsible for their own choices, and damn it feels good to have choices again.

3. A quick prayer for my handsome husband who is coming up on 34 big ones this weekend, and who is having a sort of scary but hopefully quickly resolved issue with his vision. We're seeing a specialist this afternoon which, again, makes me want to drop to my knees and kiss the sovereign soil we stand on because a specialized!self-motivated and employed!same day appointment! doctor. Amen, alleluia, let freedom ring.

4. Both boys are having verbal explosions this week, which I credit to the fine Rocky Mountain air, a regular sleep schedule, and a diet consisting of considerably more variety than yogurt and gluten free pasta. John Paul proudly and unexpectedly announced 'Happy Birthday, Daddy' from the back seat this morning, which is technically his first sentence. And yesterday Joey approached me with the offer of "A good coffee accommodation for you, Mommy." I'm going to go ahead and take full credit for raising that kid right.

5. I have gone Mackelmore on every single thrift store in the Denver metro area this past week, and I am now the undisputed queen of all things secondhand. I have scored a mint condition tan-with-espresso-accent-legs microfiber couch ($40), an IKEA kid's wooden table and chair ($8), a Pottery Barn wooden toy kitchen ($4.99), a Fisher Price balance bike with training wheels ($9), a Pottery Barn kid's rocking microfiber recliner ($9), a Target Threshold Collection 24'x48' gilded mirror (with tags on, $24), and an espresso colored leaning ladder bookcase from Pier 1 ($15). I'm literally on fire, I tell you. And our house looks amazing.

6. Daily Mass. I went once! And there were no stairs (or stares, really). And air conditioning! And aside from Joey repeatedly yelling 'Where's the tv?' and dropping every damn kneeler in our row with a resounding BANG during the Eucharistic prayer, it was amazing. Don't ask me why I couldn't make it to Daily Mass in Rome ever...it's too pathetic a tale. Let's just say I needed a mini-van, a sprawling suburban mega-church, and the promise of an easy exit down a handicapped ramp to lead me to the Lamb's Supper.

7. Date night! Tonight. Because I have a sister who lives 10 minutes away and weeeeeeeeeee! We haven't been on a date in 4 months. Any suggestions for a 6 month preggo high on American life and a potentially vision-impaired husband with hugely dilated pupils?

Linked to the finest in weekly roundups, Mrs. Fulwiler the Great.