25 Weeks.

Last night Husband reached over and tried to brush something off my leg. I looked down as he swept his hand over my thigh again, seemingly trying to get rid of what he thought was a ball of purple fuzz. When I realized what was happening I said, “No … no. That’s a patch of spider veins. They aren’t going away without the help of a laser.” 

Then he jerked his hand away like the purple fuzz had fangs and might bite him.

Third pregnancy, almost third trimester update: I am doing well, except for things like this. Yes. This is my 33-year-old leg. I am quite aware that it’s disgusting and frightening and will need to be addressed eventually.

Sometimes I allow myself to take a good hard look at certain things that are happening and it’s so disturbing that I have to show someone. Husband gets very grossed out and refuses to look at anything even if I remind him that it will go away after the baby, or can be zapped away by a professional. He prefers to live in la-la land where nothing is out of the ordinary except his wife is getting fatter and fatter and her legs are always covered in purple fuzz. 

If I try to tell him about anything related to my vagina he immediately starts talking loudly over me and says I DON’T NEED TO KNOW THAT over and over until he sees my lips stop moving. Well … maybe he doesn‘t need to know it, but I have to live with every freaky thing that is happening and it would be nice to share the fright with someone. We both know that when he goes in to get his vasectomy I’m going to have to hold his hand through the process, and look at the stitches afterwards, and hear every detail of his painso the least he can do is look at my bulging veins.

The Nursery.

I’ve made a decision, finally, on the palette for THREE’s room. Now, I’m not the kind of mom who scours Pinterest and spends weeks planning a nursery. I’m sorry if this disappoints you. I pick items I like and I put them together, in a short amount of time.

The colors will be primarily yellow, white, and gray. Here are some things I’ve decided I must have for my daughter’s room.




The bedding is cheap, which is good, and I like the birds and overall vintage feel of it. The vibe of the room isn’t really vintage, I am just picking things that make me happy and seem soothing. I don’t want to go overkill with matchy-matchyness though I may throw some sky blue curtains on the windows.

Apparently I’m nesting. Yesterday I was cleaning and threw away Husband’s cologne because I thought it was empty, when in fact it was not. Oops. I considered offering to dig for it in the trash outside, but I figured if he wanted it that badly he could go look for it himself. He waved his arms around and said, That doesn’t make any sense! Why would you do that?!” I looked at him and said no, it didn’t make any sense. I have no idea what I was thinking, but I think I’m nesting, and it’s probably going to happen again … so …


I got a box of gently-used clothes today from a very thoughtful fellow mom named Misty who I know from high school, and OMG, I really can’t handle the cuteness.

I’ll be adding these to my arsenal of pizzazz-y baby clothes. I mean, really ... look at them. 

If this doesn’t say, “I know I’m just a newborn but I have more personality than you have in your whole adult body,I don’t know what does. 

Also, I taught ONE that his little sister is in my “womb” and he has trouble pronouncing that word so I told him to just say “baby bag” and be done with it. 

Zebra Print.

I went to T.J. Maxx the other day with a gift card given to me by my Aunt Nancy, with the intention of buying some new yoga pants. I have never been 20 weeks pregnant in the dead of winter, and I have no yoga pants that fit properly. I cannot live without yoga pants. 

After discovering that a pregnant person can’t just go up a few sizes in exercise wear and make it work (I looked ridiculous, and therefore will be shopping only at maternity stores from now until June), I wandered around the store, picked up a few dress shirts for Husband, and perused the home decor and boy’s clothing sections. And finally … dun dun dunI looked through the baby girl clothes. 

Wow. There was so much pink.

Here is my first official clothing purchase for THREE. She’s probably going to get an awful lot of pink and lavender gifted to her from family members, so it’s my mission to fill her closet with as much loud/animal print/neon as possible. I can’t have my daughter looking too frilly. She’s MY daughter after all.

I love that it says “Daddy Makes Me Smile.”

We’re working on names and it’s a struggle to find one we both really like. I guess some people have their children’s names picked out years ahead of time … we aren’t those people. We just go with whatever the vibe seems to be at the time. And since we already have a Maverick Grayson and an Asher Rhys, we would like to avoid M names and A names.

It’s exhausting.

I don’t want to make this blog all about having a baby, but I just have to say …  


I am also excited about the idea of being done with childbearing. My mother keeps telling me not to put a cap on it permanently, encouraging us to keep our options open. And yes, maybe when I’m 36 and my children are all three years and up I will suddenly find myself wishing for anotherbut I don’t want to give birth to it. 

I would like to close my womb after this. It has served me well, but … no more growing life. No more gestation. I want to focus on the lives I’ve got rummaging through the clean laundry basket, finding my underwear and doing things like this:

Handling three children is questionable, and four is … well, just out of the question.