Anne Says So

Life in Slow Mo

2012-01-17T20:09:00.004-05:00

January is my least favorite month of the year. The gray, wet and dreary weather after so many festive weeks always weighs me down.

This year is no different, but while January gloominess weighs me down figuratively, a growing baby girl is weighing me down quite literally. At least I'm grateful for the latter!

I've written a handful of posts in my head, but time always seems to get away from me. There's a lot to be done around here - cleaning, purging, organizing, folding and general pre-baby preparation.

Not to mention actual work and the day-to-day running of a household and a two-year-old. (Hold back your laughter; the "running" of a two-year-old is a hilarious concept, I'm aware.)

While I've gotten little of the above accomplished, I have spent a lot of time in thought and prayer and, if I'm honest, panic about what's to come.

I've determined what needs to be prepared (meals, nursery details, baby gear, grocery lists, tax documents, directions to Mac's school, doctor's appointments) before our due date. I've made lists so long I had to stop writing for fear I'd send myself into an anxiety-induced tailspin. And then there's the very real idea of coming home with a baby in our arms.

In sweet moments with Mac, I wonder if I'll be able to enjoy him and focus on him the same way with another child in our house. What if he wants me to snuggle with him and I can't? What if he's hurt and I can't just scoop him up? How will I manage the needs of two children I love so much?

In tougher times, I question my ability to handle two little people when I'm unable to wrangle just the one. Not my most optimistic moments, to be sure, but questions that seem to be on constant replay lately.

Although there's always something to be done around here and plenty of "to do" items left on my list each evening, I've become quite aware of how calm and relatively quiet our life is right now. B and I know how our days and evenings will go, how many hours between bedtime and waketime, how to squeeze in errands and how to make a cranky/hurt/sad/exhausted Mac smile.

Hand me newborn Mac next month and I could probably figure it all out a lot more quickly. But the idea of getting to know a new, utterly unique creature is boggling my already sleep-deprived mind. And the assurance that we'll love her just as much as we love our handsome ham of a son? Wow. It's difficult to imagine.

And yet here we are, a month or less left, wondering when she'll be here, what she'll look like, how much we'll all melt at the very sight of her sweet face.

I'm trying not to feel guilty for skimping on housework, dinners and organizing as I stare off into space hashing this out - all the while knowing I'll never really figure it out. It can only be like the first go round: you get tossed into the deep end and you just swim. It's hard, but you love it.

Surely I'll be saying the same thing in a few short weeks, right?

And certainly I can't be the only mom who's ever wondered these things. As I slow down physically, my mind has begun to race with a thousand possibilities, questions and scenarios that I'll never truly be able to get a handle on as a mother of one.

I don't regret the two-hour nap I took with our only child in his big boy bed yesterday, the Chick-fil-a lemonade dates we've had lately or the evenings we three have ventured out to make memories while we can. Not to say our lives will be over once Mac's sister arrives, but life as we know it sure will. And we can't wait.

In the meantime, I'm slowing down significantly in every way. I'm saying prayers of gratitude no matter how many times I waddle to the bathroom or how comical my attempts to take off my own boots may be. (B picked a bad year to give me a new pair for Christmas.... Where's Candid Camera when you need them?)

Pictures and stories about our hysterical, growing Mac-man to come, if only to preserve this sweet time for the crazy season ahead.

Sending all of you lots of bright, non-dreary January love! xoxo

Catching Up on Christmas

2011-12-31T11:36:00.018-05:00

Wow, three weeks away from the blog and so much to catch up on!

Our Christmas was just perfect! We spent the weekend before Christmas in Columbia celebrating with my extended family, eating lots of food and opening a million presents for Mac. And a few for us too!

That night we made a little change in Mac's room:

That's right, friends: Mac is the proud owner of a new big boy bed.

With the exception of one or two naptime hiccups, the last two weeks have gone very well! He loves it so far and asks to read and sing and just plain hang out in his "bebo" bed quite often.

Once we finish up the final touches on his room, I'll do another before and after post with the full scoop.

Too excited to open his eyes!

The following weekend, after a nice lazy "Christmas break" week, we kicked off the celebrations by having my parents up for Christmas Eve.

They brought Mac (more) presents and even his stuffed-to-the-gills stocking from their house. I really need to do a separate post about their stocking traditions and creative stuffers; they set the bar high!

Can I interest you in some hand sanitizer?

I'm glad our Christmas tree's theme this year was "unbreakable," because it proved to be quite necessary.
Mac kindly undecorated the bottom two-thirds of our tree, assisted with ribbon removal and also lent a hand with present arrangements. It was a hands on Christmas all around!

Candy canes, many smashed and broken by the time Santa came, were the most appreciated piece of decor in our home. Ahh, two-year-olds.

After a beautiful Christmas Eve service at Grace's downtown campus, Santa B and I stayed up far too late staring down this:

Clearly my "I'm tired, my back hurts, are you almost done?" glances contributed significantly to Bradley's efforts, because by Christmas morning this is what Mac saw in the sunroom:
Our little chef was beside himself! The first thing he wanted to do, as any culinary professional would, was wash his hands before prepping the food. Such a silly boy!

Then he got busy with the real cooking, pulling every last piece of Melissa & Doug food (thanks, Mimi and Grandpa!) out of each cabinet, stacking them into baskets, microwaving them as needed and creating original dishes like ketchup on loaf bread with a side of onions. Mmm.

After playing for a bit, we made our way to Bradley's parents' house, just an hour or so from ours, for more Christmas fun. Our six-month-old nephew and his parents were in town, so the fun was multiplied!

The adults had fun even if the kids didn't. Control your excitement, Mac.

Uncle Todd and Aunt Laura saved the showstopper for last, though, when they gave Mac a shiny new ride-on tractor! He was beside himself.
Mac zoomed around at 2mph and dumped that gold bow out about ten million times.

All was right with the world until it was time to come in for supper.

That's essentially how I feel about Christmas being over, too.

We're moments away from 2012 and I'm doing one of my least favorite things - undecorating.

Mac, I feel your pain. (Although he's spending NYE with his grandparents in Columbia tonight, so I guarantee you there are no tears. Or naps, but that's another story for another day.)

We hope your Christmas was every bit as sweet!

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas and Other Insults

2011-12-09T13:03:00.011-05:00

via

Last night Bradley and I rewatched a 30 Rock episode that included this gem:

"What Christmas card did we end up sending out?"

(Reads front) "Happy holidays..." (Opens card) "...is what terrorists say. Merry Christmas!"

That punchline packs a whopper because it's totally true. Not that we know what terrorists say come December, of course, because who'd want to make small talk with such folks? The kicker is the idea that we can get so up in arms about the semantics of holiday greetings.

I've heard lots of talk lately about the words we use to wish each other well this time of year.

I can see the issue from a number of perspectives. As a Christian, I celebrate Christmas. I wish people I know Merry Christmas because they too are celebrating Jesus' birth.

That said, I don't find it an insult if a cashier wishes me Season's Greetings, Happy Holidays, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa or plain ol' Happy Friday.

Sharing one's best wishes for this season is hardly akin to a put-down. And while I don't celebrate Hanukkah, Kwanzaa or Boxing Day, for that matter, I don't wince at the words.

Like individuals, businesses select their own festive decorations and should have the ability to recognize whatever holidays they wish. After all, we do celebrate more than one holiday this time of year, even if Christmas is our main focus.

I just wrapped up Thanksgiving, am excited for Christmas and plan to sleep right through New Year's. I think an enthusiastic "Happy holidays!" covers all of those occasions perfectly.

On the other hand, I don't want to be held back from wishing others a Merry Christmas if those are the words that flow from my pen or come out of my mouth. There's nothing unkind or untoward about that sentiment, particularly when said with an impossible-to-misread kind of smile.

I love living in the South, but around here we sometimes take for granted that everyone believes what we do. If you don't celebrate the birth of Christ, please don't take it personally if I wish you a Merry Christmas. Besides Easter, which really is the completion of Christmas and the crux of our faith, Christmas is the happiest time of year for believers. Take that wish as an extension of our joy.

As a child, I was thoroughly confused by a neighbor who put up a Christmas tree but said his family didn't believe in Jesus. The two seemed intrinsically linked to me.

Nowadays, schools have 'holiday trees' and many cultural traditions (stockings, trees, gifts) are celebrated whether or not a family believes in the religious significance of Christmas. So it goes.

For my family, the Advent season is a special time of year because of Jesus. For others, it's not. I won't be offended if they wish me Happy Holidays and I hope they won't crinkle their noses if I unknowingly wish them a happy holiday-they-don't-really-celebrate.

Don't we all mean well?

Another blogger summed it up perfectly in a post you must read:

"Don't tell anyone, but sometimes I wonder if the best thing that could happen to this country is for Christ to be taken out of Christmas—for Advent to be made distinct from all the consumerism of the holidays and for the name of Christ to be invoked in the context of shocking forgiveness, radical hospitality, and logic-defying love. The Incarnation survived the Roman Empire, not because it was common but because it was strange, not because it was forced on people but because it captivated people.

Let’s celebrate the holidays, of course, but let’s live the incarnation. Let’s advocate for the poor, the forgotten, the lonely, and the lost. Let’s wage war against hunger and oppression and modern-day slavery.

Let’s be the kind of people who get worked up on behalf of others rather than ourselves."

Preach.

Ben Stein, who does not celebrate Christmas, had this to say:

"I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejeweled trees, Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are, Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, 'Merry Christmas' to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a creche, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away."

If you're tempted to boycott a department store because their banner celebrates more holidays than just yours, please don't. Bestow all the Happy Christmases (if you're British, of course) you can, but take the meaning of what you're saying to heart.

Would it be a victory if we pouted and stomped our feet and got people to call their decorated trees (nowhere to be seen the night of Jesus' birth) by the name Christmas just to please us? Would it bring anyone closer to Christ or draw them to the Gospel? Hardly.

So, from us to you, happy everything, friends. And Merry Christmas in particular. We're celebrating for a reason in our house, but wherever you are, we hope you spend this season grateful and happy. Thank you for all of your sweet wishes this season.

Christmas Traditions

2011-12-08T11:13:00.003-05:00

Mac-Mac the not-so-excited reindeer

Growing up, my family had a number of fun, meaningful traditions surrounding the Advent season. Christmas was such a celebration, something I eagerly anticipated each year.

Some of our traditions were small, far from significant to the meaning of the season - just little habits we incorporated into our Christmases. Others were lined up to build into Advent's meaning and remind us of the real reason for Christmas.

As Mac grows and we prepare to welcome another little one, I'm excited to start our own Smith family traditions.

A few of my favorite Christmas traditions as a child:

We had an Advent calendar every year. Sometimes there were chocolates in it, sometimes other small treats (Bonnie Bell Lipsmackers!); either way my brother and I so looked forward to opening them as we counted down to Christmas. Because it was just the two of us, I opened the odd-numbered days and he opened the even-numbered ones.
Each year we'd select a child to buy for, typically sharing our respective genders and ages, and go pick out gifts with our parents. Selecting and wrapping everything meant a lot more than just donating money; I loved having a hand in the giving and imagining what these gifts might mean to someone else. It instituted a real sense of gratitude in us.
Our stockings had, and still do have, little bells on them so you could hear if they were, um, inspected. My parents take stocking stuffers very seriously, so it was quite tempting to peek or rummage around inside before Christmas morning.
Every December my parents, far craftier than I, would help us with some Christmas-related project. Making our own ornaments, creating a nativity scene, painting faux Christmas windows (these must be seen to be understood), decorating plates, cutting potatoes into stamps and making our own wrapping paper - the list goes on. My brother and I always had a hand in creating something to commemorate the year; I may still have the glue gun burns to prove it!
On Christmas Eve, after my family got home from our church's candlelight service, my dad read the story of Jesus' birth from Luke 2. As we got older, my brother and I got to read part of the story as well - something that felt like a big honor on such a special night.
After we read Luke 2, my brother or I (always alternating - Mom's big on fairness!) would place baby Jesus in our nativity scene. As children it didn't make sense to us why baby Jesus was already in the manger all month, so that issue was nipped in the bud by waiting 'til his "birth night." It was such a thrill be the one to place him in the stable, signifying that Jesus had come, just as we were promised!
On Christmas Eve, we were each allowed to open one present, and it was always the same: Christmas pajamas. (Oh how I need new pajamas now! May have to start this tradition back up.) We went to sleep covered in flannel snowflakes, which made for very cute pictures the next day.
On Christmas morning, we couldn't come out of our rooms until we put our robes on (over our new Christmas pjs, of course) and made our beds. Our bedrooms were upstairs, so we had to dress, brush our teeth and get presentable before coming downstairs together. This part was agonizing! I suppose the point was to make sure no one slid down the bannister at dawn to peek at Santa's presents solo?
Speaking of presents, Mom and Dad wrapped their gifts to us, but Santa's were beautifully laid out, unwrapped.
Dad set up a video camera most Christmas mornings. I'd pay money never to have to watch the videos from 1993 to 1996. Eep.
We didn't have a ritual for opening our gifts one by one, but as we've gotten older and the frenzy around Christmas morning has died down, we have tried to take turns and see what everyone else got. After all of our presents were open, we'd move to the den to open up stockings.
Our stockings were so much fun! Candies, CDs, sweet treats, lip gloss, lotions, candles and fun stocking stuffers were a given, but every now and then a surprise (a watch! new earrings!) was thrown in to mix things up. You never know what to expect, and I am glad Bradley has his own stocking at their house now so he can participate. Our stockings are woefully empty here at chez Smith...
Mom would make coffee, holiday cider and sweet rolls for us to eat after all of the present-getting hoopla was over. Then it was time to celebrate Christmas all over again with each side of the family!

I'd love to hear what your families do for Christmas and any meaningful, simple or downright childlike ideas you're putting into practice this year. No time like the present to start making memories!

Don't Call Me Mama

2011-12-06T15:59:00.013-05:00

I'm not unique in that I wear many different hats; we all do.

Just today I overslept and rushed to make breakfast, pack a lunchbox, restock a backpack diaper stash, brush teeth, dress a toddler, make myself presentable, let the dog out, grab an umbrella and drop Mac safely off at school in forty minutes flat.

While he was gone I scrambled to pick up Christmas clutter for a visitor who's not coming 'til Thursday. Oops.

I fielded client emails, worked for a bit, called the home warranty company, the doctor and the pharmacy, then looked over paint chips and fabric swatches for our little girl's nursery.

After crunching numbers and finding some papers, I skipped lunch to meet an accountant about my first full year of small business taxes. Said meeting ran five minutes over, so I barely made it to school in time to get Macky - who is now refusing to nap.

My remaining to do items for this afternoon include meal planning, grocery shopping, making soup (what else on such a gray day?) for dinner, preparing to host a small group Christmas party, folding ten billion loads of laundry, hanging out with my husband and resting my heavily pregnant self.

What am I getting at? Like you, I do a lot of things. I am a lot of things. I work at home as a wife and mom; I work from home, too.

It took this big talker 16 months to squeeze "Mama" into his massive vocabulary.
I still revel in it.

The things I'm most proud of in this world, however, are my marriage and our son. Hands down. These are my people, the one I've chosen and the one I carried.

I'm tied to these two in every possible way, and I find a strange freedom in that. This is the life I've been given and, on an hourly basis, the life I choose. I am so grateful.

(Even when I'm frustrated, behind, exhausted, confused, under-organized, frazzled, at a loss, overwhelmed or having one of "those" days, weeks, or months, I'm always thankful. Even if it's masked a bit by all my whining.)

Then I read this piece last week about a woman who fought back tears and hid her flushing face after a hairstylist identified her as a "mom," demographically speaking. I was a little puzzled.

The author suggests that women drop the identity of motherhood, one that is far more permanently and powerfully branded on us than on our male counterparts or even our husbands.

In a way, I understand. No one wants to be that mom, the slovenly and flustered woman sprinting three yards behind her kids, screeching at them to behave. Always late, never showered, rarely able to discuss anything besides the gory, disastrous details of childbirth or potty-training.

No woman wants to feel that she's "just" a mom or "just" an anything, for that matter. We're all busy, growing, multi-faceted beings.

But I think the writer missed the mark. While there are few labels I'd want to wear as my only identifiers, there would be no shame in one of those being mom. Or believer, wife, daughter or friend. The parts of my life I'm most passionate about and engaged in are going to be the easiest to identify me by, and probably the most accurate.

I think what she's hinting at is the fear that women, unlike most men, are minimized by parenthood. Do people see me differently now, especially pregnant, than they did three or four years ago? Sure.

My body, my personality, my life, my age, my "cool" factor - everything has changed these last two or so years. Why wouldn't they view me differently? People who judge me or minimize my abilities because I have a child are missing out, though.

From my point of view, I've been given a gift and am in a very specific season of life where I'm needed. In twenty years, I won't be a mom in the same way I am now. I'll be a hands-off counselor mom, not a find the shoes/kiss the boo-boo/change the diaper/ward off the tantrum mom. This time is fleeting, and it's a privilege no matter how bleary-eyed or short-fused I get.

For people to believe I can contribute anything less to society because I am a mother makes little sense at its heart: if anything, I am contributing society. Little people. A future generation. The folks who will take care of us when we're all past our "worried what my hairstylist labels me as" days - if we're fortunate.

I've walked the line, especially in my first weeks back at full-time work after Mac was born, between proud parenthood and concern over the perception that raising a child will overtake my life.

But you know what? It can't overtake my life because it is my life.

Even if I were in Beijing brokering the sale of a billion dollar company, my thoughts and my heart and my concerns would lie in the care and well-being of my children. (Typing that in the plural still makes me tear up.) There might be a million other facts tumbling around in my brain, but I'd still drop everything in a heartbeat for the role that matters most, the one only I can fill.

So, moms, don't feel belittled. Even if you do wear yoga pants to the grocery store after a full day of not doing yoga. Even if your business suit has spit up stains or your under-eye bags need a luggage rack and you have no idea what movies won an Oscar this year.

And non-parents, take a moment to think about how many things you do well. Don't fall into the trap of presuming a person can only be defined by one task, even if it's her biggest and most important role.

So that's my diatribe today: Mom shouldn't be or feel like an insult. And even if it is, it's still a gift.

May Mac never doubt that, even covered in his drool or tearing him, weeping, away from the "race car" grocery cart, I am proud to be his mom. I hope he can be as proud to be my son - at least 'til middle school rolls around...

Daddy's Boy

2011-12-01T16:22:00.004-05:00

Mac has entered a total Daddy's boy phase.

He wants to dress like B, talk like B, hang out in "Daddy's shop" and build furniture, ride the John Deere lawnmower ("Daddy's tractor") and generally engage in tiny testosterone-building activities. The era of Mama is over.

I have found a way to capitalize on this, though, by coming up with utterly ridiculous nicknames and having Mac repeat them just to prove he's Daddy's bugaboo/handsome boy/chunk-chunk*, not Mama's.

(Excuse the grainy, about-to-die camera footage.)

To add insult to injury, Mac now responds to my "I love you" with "Yeah." I'm working on that, with mixed results. (I've warned B not to respond like that, either. Not good for a girl's ego, y'all!)

*To be fair, I called Mac "fat-fat" and "chunk-chunk" when he was in the 3rd weight percentile at nine months old. These days he tips the scales at 37 pounds, so it's a more accurate description - but it has always been a term of endearment. And it just sounds so cute coming out of his mouth!

Still Thankful

2011-11-29T08:10:00.003-05:00

Our little house had a wonderful Thanksgiving. All four grandparents and one attentive uncle around our table had Mac over the moon on Turkey Day.

Having everyone help wash dishes had me pretty darn grateful, too.

The next day, we all needed a detox - the adults from our holiday feast and Mac from the constant excitement of fawning grandparent attention.

Luckily, the precious Watson family came by for a pick-me-up! Kristen, Charles and Wynn, our favorite Gamecock-loving Floridians, stopped in on their way out of town and I'm so thankful.

We didn't get nearly enough pictures, but Mac was so giddy from their visit (enough to share one of "his" porch pumpkins with little Wynn) that he smiled all afternoon.

Mac's "Aunt Kitten" got a little snuggle from him on the front porch while her handsome boy was asleep in the car.

B managed to snap a few pics of the post-visit excitement:

In an unrelated note, that last sweet shot reminds me so much of this one:

I just blinked and nearly two years passed. How on Earth did that happen?

Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving as well! I'll find out at the doctor this morning just how much that turkey stuck to my ribs - or baby girl's. It was worth every bite!

Time to Pick Out Cards!

2011-11-28T22:13:00.003-05:00

It's not even December yet but somehow I'm already "behind" when it comes to the pre-Christmas prep craziness. Eep!

From the looks of Twitter and Facebook, I'm the only gal on the block who doesn't have her Christmas cards stuffed, stamped and addressed just days after Thanksgiving. Oh well!

This year I'll be ordering my Christmas cards from Tiny Prints. We've used them several times before for our (inevitably very-close-to-late) Christmas cards, as well as Mac's birth announcements and party invitations.

The trickiest part in picking out a design is the fact that we don't have a photo of our family just yet. Getting shots of the three of us is harder than it sounds, and I'm growing rounder by the moment - so my vanity will likely weed out 99% of the pics taken of us from here on out.

If you get a Christmas card that has a stock photo of a gorgeous, smiling, tanned and distinctly not us family, at least you'll know why.

Here are a few of my top choices:

Love and Cheer

Woody Tartan

Winterberry Stripes

Colorful Wreath

Chevron Christmas

Do you have a favorite? Am I the only one who's woefully behind on her card-picking? And who wants to come take our picture?

*Tiny Prints is giving me 50 free cards in exchange for this post. I'm excited to order but likely would have purchased my card from their selections anyhow. And I talk about everything anyway, so I'm sure you would have heard about it.

Talking Turkey: Thanksgiving Recipes

2011-11-23T14:10:00.004-05:00

I decided to kick off my third trimester in a big way - by hosting Thanksgiving!

To be fair, I "hosted" in our old home two years ago. Mac was seven weeks old, though, and I believe my biggest contribution was dairy-free mashed potatoes for myself (we thought Mac was lactose intolerant) and perhaps a steamed veggie.

This year I'm planning to do a bit more. Not a ton more, thankfully, as our sweet parents are each bringing more than an armful of side dishes to load up the table. This holiday we'll have my parents, B's parents and my brother, in addition to our gang of three. I'm so excited!

Here's the rundown of what we'll be ~~gorging ourselves on~~ enjoying tomorrow:

Turkey and gravy
Ham (For someone who evidently doesn't like turkey. Can you imagine?!)
Biscuits and homemade bread
Cranberry sauce
Dressing
Green Beans
Mashed Potatoes
Fried Creamed Corn
Cornbread Casserole
Sweet Potato Casserole
Fruit Salad
Chocolate Cake
Paula Deen's Creamy Lemon Bars
Ooey-Gooey Peanut Butter Brownies

Yes, this is all for seven adults and one toddler.

The best part? Our generous families are bringing more than half of what you see listed. My grandmother, who had hoped to join us but won't be able to, is even sending up a few of her favorites. My aunt offered but I told her I truly don't know how we could manage another morsel!

While Bradley tackles the turkey I'll be making my very favorite carb on Earth (and that's saying something) - mashed potatoes. It's my mom's recipe, but I've become an expert at it over the years. Particularly pregnant years!

via

In addition, I'll also be making traditional Southern-style green beans, similar to these, and trying out Paula Deen's fried creamed corn.

via

For dessert, I'm making a tried and true crowd-pleaser: ooey-gooey peanut butter brownies. And they're from Cooking Light! As if you needed another reason to partake.

There were a few more recipes (roasted squash, an autumn soup, a pumpkin bread) I wanted to add to the mix, but our table can only hold so much.

The remainder of our menu, plus a few surprises, is all being delivered when the grandparents arrive. So much fun!

In the meantime, I'll be cleaning, ironing placemats, prepping, organizing and Scotchgarding the chairs and ottoman that were just delivered. (Upholsterers that pick up on Friday and deliver on Thanksgiving Eve? I'm in love!)

This year, it won't be the tryptophan that puts me into a coma post-Turkey Day; it'll be a lot of excitement and a hefty helping of pregnancy tiredness. And, if I'm honest, just a smidge too many mashed potatoes.

Happy, happy Thanksgiving, friends! What will you be eating tomorrow?

A Monday Minute

2011-11-21T16:09:00.003-05:00

This Monday has been a little manic, but two videos have made my rainy but beautiful day. Hope they do the same for you!

I don't listen to the radio much, as I prefer to pick my own tunes whenever possible (control issues much?), but I haven't been able to stop humming Moves Like Jagger since late August. When I heard Little Big Town's banjo-pickin' cover, it put a new spin on the tune running through my brain for the millionth time....

You know by now that I'm the pastiest girl who ever dreamed of having swagger, so I took great joy in watching Tigger, Eeyore and especially Pooh pull off the cat-daddy, Dougie, shuffle and other general tomfoolery at a theme park.

Not the moves they learned for everyday Hundred Acre Wood hang-outs, but it made me giggle nonetheless. (Especially what kicks off at 0:25 and 1:25.)

Although I just realized I've been out-danced by grown men wearing cartoon character costumes. Could this be a new low for my (lack of) dance skills?

Happy Monday!

Need a Laugh?

2011-11-15T16:57:00.002-05:00

Is your week moving as slowly as mine? Need a laugh? Enjoy the following giggle on me.

Let me preface things by saying I had my glucose test this morning. While I, a sweets lover to my ever-expanding core, don't loathe the mandatory sugar consumption as most pregnant ladies do, it does make me a bit jittery and queasy.

All that glucose so early in the morning - and consumed so quickly? Even I tend to pause between bites of cake...but I digress. Bottom line: early morning, jittery, typical doctor's office ("prick me, poke me, let a med student observe me") nerves.

I had to stop mid-appointment because it was my "time," the one-hour mark after I consumed my syrupy morning mocktail. Around the corner I went to get my blood drawn and, while I was there, I made a second (this time non-mandatory) pit stop in the ladies' room.

Since it was low on soap, I returned to my exam room and, while chatting in full Anne (read: nonstop) fashion with an OB and his med student du jour, began to wash my hands.

The doctor's office soap dispensers and hand sanitizer bottles look deceptively similar, so when it didn't foam at first, I just kept washing. I'd get clean either way, right?

Alas, it was thicker than sanitizer and still not foaming. Probably because it was the gel they use for ultrasounds and hearing the baby's heartbeat through a Doppler. Thick, gooey, practically un-wipe-off-able gel. And I was "washing" my hands with it. Much to the med student's enjoyment.

The nurse and I enjoyed a laugh about it after my fabulous (kind, poker-faced and unflappable) doctor and his adolescent sidekick skedaddled. But wow - next time I'll read the bottle.

So how was your day?

What Matters

2011-11-10T16:08:00.003-05:00

Hi, friends! Wow, what a week it has been.

Bradley's sweet grandmother passed away over the weekend at 98 years old, healthy until the week she died and a tremendous blessing to each of us who knew her.

The days that followed put my life and "pressing" tasks into perspective like little else has recently.

Amidst the travel, the arrangements, the sadness, the big family meals, the services and a little more travel, things became very clear - what matters and what doesn't.

The things that matter last a lifetime, even a lifetime that stretches toward the century mark.

The things that don't matter sadly tend to be the things that weigh me down the most, the items on my to do list that cause me the most stress.

I'm thankful, in a sad time, for a godly woman who lived her life as a widow for 63 years, devoting her time to family and serving the Lord. I'm grateful for the people she shaped and the ability to know her briefly. I'm so glad Mac was able to meet her and that we can tell her how she smiled and said, "I knew another Mac Smith a long time ago..."

I appreciate everyone's prayers for Bradley and his family and most especially for the tremendous peace they have felt in the midst of everything.

We're slowly getting back into the swing of things over here, but I hope I don't lose sight, as "real life" picks back up, of what matters.

A Chilly, Choo-Choo Halloween

2011-11-01T12:38:00.004-04:00

I may be alone in this, but Halloween isn't my favorite holiday. I don't dream up costumes six months in advance, have never dressed up as a "racy" pumpkin/angel/nurse and could live without "spooky" house and yard decorations.

I adore orange and can put away Reese's Peanut Butter Cups with the best of 'em, but otherwise there typically has been little to get me going about the festivities. (I know, I know. Bah humbug, right? I did say I love candy!)

This year, though, our little Thomas the Tank Engine made everything worthwhile. We didn't go door to door, but he was thrilled to see a few friends when we stopped by to show off his "tick or deet" request and excited "choo choo!"

The evening got chilly fast, but Mac was too busy hopping around to care. Watching him enjoy every last second of the night made it SO fun.

If this is what Halloween looks like for us from here on out, sign me up! And I may even browse the Target sale aisle to add a few strictly Halloween pieces to our "fall home decor" lineup. Maybe.

Our Favorite Baby and Kid Gifts

2011-10-28T11:25:00.004-04:00

Until I had Mac, I was a little lost as to what constituted a "good" baby gift. I could find cute things or useful things, but what was both?

As he ages, my gift-giving abilities expand a bit. Were we invited to a five-year-old's birthday party, I'd be plum out of luck. But I feel like we've got a great handle on the two and under (and the baby-to-be) crowd.

Like many parents, we're not enthusiastic about migraine-inducing toys that flash, whistle, sing, dance, hop, buzz and never seem to die. We've found that Mac gets far more enjoyment, and thousands more hours of play, out of presents that engage his imagination.

(See also: Stuff People Are Trying to Buy Your Baby is Nice But Pointless)

As Mac has given and received more gifts, we've learned so much! The best part? His favorite and best loved toys aren't the priciest!

Little folks have a knack for loving the simple (or even the box the simple gift is in!), so I remind myself not to stress about finding something for the discerning one-year-old in our lives.

Our favorite gifts are always books. Beyond the classic baby titles, we've discovered (through the generosity of friends!) a number of other new, well-loved books:
I Love You, Stinky Face
All of the Curious George books
The Berenstain Bears books
Anything by Sandra Boynton
Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed

All in all, you can't go wrong with a book. Board books for the first few years, then hardback. Unless other toddlers are gentler readers than ours.

Non-book gift ideas:

*Personalized plates and bowls - great for when toddlers join the family table!

*Melissa & Doug Puzzle Maze: All the fun of a puzzle without pieces to lose? Win-win!
*Melissa & Doug Animal Magnets: Hours of fun in a box, or on our refrigerator, as it were.
*Melissa & Doug Take-Along Tool Set: Mac just got these, but he loves his "tooz" already.

And, while I'm on the topic, here are a few of my favorite gifts for babies-to-be:

Diapees & Wipees

All I need in my bag for quick errands - holds a travel pack of wipes and two or three diapers.

Aden & Anais Burpy Bib

Curves around your neck as a burp cloth or snaps as a 360-degree bib for baby.

Aden & Anais Swaddle Blankets

We never swaddled Mac in these, but they're the perfect weight and size for layering. We used them all the time.

Three Marthas bibs and burp cloths

Beautifully designed and the most absorbent ones we had. I wish we'd stocked up!

What are your favorite gifts to give the smallest people on your Christmas list? Care to help us branch out from our book and puzzle routine?

Finally - a Bump Picture!

2011-10-27T08:49:00.004-04:00

No, sillies - not mine. (Hard for me to imagine people would care to see my stomach on the interwebs...) Jessica's!

via

Does anyone else find it interesting that she quite publicly saved herself for marriage the first go 'round, but is (by all accounts) expecting a baby before round two?

In her defense, it's none of our business if she's pregnant or not. And I didn't pay the rumors much attention (any woman without washboard abs is pregnant in tabloid-land) until this week.

The bump, however, speaks for itself. As do the boots, come to think of it. Eep, Jess. Your name is on an international fashion label; were these Martian boots really the best you could do?

That said, I feel it's wildly inappropriate for an obstetrician to speculate on how far along she is based on the size of her stomach. Whether I agree with his "six months" approximation or not, the very guess from a doctor feels icky, no?

Ladies in the tri-state area, I wouldn't use Dr. Dave David for that reason alone. And also because - Dave David? Really? (I'm starting to feel like Amy Poehler here.)

Hats off to J. Simp, though, for avoiding the mom uniform I've been sporting: jeans with brightly colored flats and a scarf. And a shirt, obviously, but I felt like that went without saying.

I like to pretend like I'm trying, but I'm nowhere near her all-black, space-wedge boot look. And I'm ok with that.

New Mom Meal Plan

2011-10-25T16:37:00.005-04:00

I don't know about your town, but all signs here point to a baby boom in the next six months. The stork is extra busy around these parts and there are flocks of underfed, sleep-deprived new parents to prove it.

My favorite way to meet new babies is to come bearing supper. (Sweet Kristen lives by her mom's adage, "Knock with your feet!" I laugh about this when I have a toddler by the hand, a baby gift, a bag of food and my keys. I promise I'm not kicking your doors in, new moms!)

The uptick in new mom meals made recently has given me flashbacks of the unadulterated gratitude such suppers brought out in me. A moment of company plus a meal for our family once you're gone? Wow. Best gift ever.

I'm no Paula Deen, nor am I the world's most normal eater (we'll discuss my bizarre list of pickiness over super-plain sandwiches sometime), but I'm getting better with practice.

Casseroles aren't really my thing - too much cheese, not quite enough variety. I realize I'm the only person south of the Mason-Dixon who feels this way, and that's ok.

Other one-dish meals, though, can be easy to fix and very much appreciated.

Here are a few of my latest fall favorites to bring to homes after the stork stops in. Add in a side of salad and, depending on the meal, either corn muffins or Italian bread and voila - you're a gourmet chef!

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*Pioneer Woman's White Chili - Such a favorite around here. We're having it tonight, actually!

*Aunt Lynn's Lasagna - She may not be a household name to you, but my aunt's recipe quickly became a classic during my college years. When she'd send up two at a time, I became the most popular girl in my building overnight!

*Butternut Squash Soup - Again, a Smith family favorite. Creamy, easy to double and perfect for chilly nights.

*Pasta e Fagioli Soup - Patterned after an Olive Garden recipe, this is such a hearty meal. Perfect in a big mason jar, the ultimate "don't return me" dish. If only it came with the addictive OG breadsticks...

*Chick-fil-A Deliciousness - While I haven't actually delivered one of these meals, some thoughtful friends who know us all too well brought us CFA after Mac was born. Boy, did we enjoy it!

My grandmother visited once with a Chick-fil-A lunch in hand, a homemade banana pudding for later and a gallon of CFA sweet tea to top it all off. I nearly died of excitement!

Bottom line: don't be intimidated when cooking for new mom friends; all they're really hoping for is a bright spot in a hectic day.

Pick up take-out, make sandwiches, bring by a gift card - just come. Leave enough for leftovers and be sure your containers are tossable.

Start and end the visit with a big hug and assure the mom that she, the baby (and the house, if she's a stress case like me!) could not look better if she tried. But that you really, really hope she didn't try.

What are your favorite recipes for new parents? Any casseroles to try that will change my mind?

Fat (Talk) Tuesday

2011-10-18T13:22:00.010-04:00

There's irony in the fact that I came across this video just after examining a "pregnancy weight gain chart" online*. We'll get into that another time...

Right now, I'm beginning to process the full (figurative) weight of our future daughter - the blessing she is already and the high bar I need to set as we raise her. Especially for myself.

I'm going to be a girl mom. It will be my responsibility to help shape and shepherd the heart of a sensitive, sweet being who may always, as I do, worry about how she looks. I'm terrified.

Take a look at this video and think about the many casual phrases we toss about in daily conversation. The "jokes" we laugh off about our looks and bodies.

Notice our constant references to backsides, stomachs, hips, "cankles" and "thunder thighs." I could give you a list of the (genuinely funny!) things I've said about myself, but you'd probably just roll your eyes - and rightfully so.

Pick up on each thoughtless comment about ourselves at mealtimes, after dessert, while trying on clothes or when we catch our reflection in a mirror. How aware we should be of these when little ears are picking up on them!

I don't mean to dismiss the value of healthy living or the effects genuine obesity can have on a woman. That's another issue entirely. I do, however, intend to clean up my fat talking act - and fast.

If I've learned anything from my two years of parenthood, it's that children absorb far more than we realize they do. Mac spits things back out that I don't even remember saying - but I know I have. (No toddler says "oh my word" and "oh no!" this often. Or corrects the dog with a, "No, sir. We do not do that." Mind like a steel trap, I tell ya.)

Just as damaging as any four-letter word can be the subversive, easily overlooked insults to ourselves. Our children, who for a time feel like extensions of us, can only absorb those same ideas - and oh how I'd like to save this little girl from every ounce of heartache fat talk has caused me.

The truth? (It's difficult even to type this, fighting the urge to qualify or deprecate or joke.) I've never been obese, or even overweight. But I have spent the bulk of my years feeling large, misshapen, puffy, odd, awkward, out of the ordinary, "curvier," bigger than other girls, too tall, disproportionate and just plain unpretty.

Scripture tells me I'm created in God's image, that I'm fearfully and wonderfully made. For a lot of years, and in a million moments since I've "grown out" of those feelings, I would have disagreed. How I wish I could tell you I've just switched off those instincts.

My prayer now, not just for Fat Talk-Free Week but for all of my girl-raising days to come, is that I talk about what matters. My heart, my hopes, the world around me, the lives of others, what I'm doing and who I can help - notsomuch about how I look while I'm doing it.

I'm grateful for a healthy body that has carried a beautiful boy and is growing another baby as I type. I'm thankful for a life easy enough that my mind can even wander to such superficial thoughts as the size of my thighs.

I'm glad to be able to get around, to care for our family and myself without assistance. And I'm grateful for the people in my life who make me laugh so hard I feel beautiful - while forgetting about looks altogether.

For those of you who are raising daughters, or who are daughters yourselves, how do you combat the urge to 'fat talk'? How can we fight the subtle 'you're not good enough' messages we unintentionally send to girls without putting too much of a focus on looks in general?

This week, I'm going to talk about things that matter. And cellulite, my friends, does not.

*More irony? Wanting to take down pics from yesterday's post because they are "unflattering." And being afraid that they're not unflattering, just accurate. And looking at pictures of oneself long enough to have such opinions. Oh, I have work to do.

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."-Psalm 139:14

A New Day

2011-10-17T17:46:00.005-04:00

To be this happy on a Monday is a rare and much appreciated treat. Very thankful for the prayers, emails, comments and calls so many of you sent our way after last week's session. I'm thrilled to report that it is a new day!

Naps are back, scream time gets shorter by the day and our happy, rested boy is back. For the most part. Toddlerhood brings challenges all its own, and I know those will take a while to work out. (As will the incisors.) But what a blessed gift sleep is!

Our happier, napping Mac had a wonderful weekend with his family. We visited the park and took a long walk with friends, picked a few "punkings" with Daddy, made pancakes, laid low and just had a quiet, relaxing two days together. Heavenly.

Mac has fabulous taste in pumpkins, even befriending this one:

I'm posting a few pics, but keep in mind I changed right from workout/playground (read: sweaty and unkempt) clothes and sprinted to the pumpkin patch. Hence the fabulous coiffure you may notice.

Regardless, it was a great way to spend an afternoon and the weekend has melted into a lovely start to this week. Here's hoping the same is true for all of you!

Now to go catch up on all the things left undone amidst the screamy, sickly, scared-this-would-last-forever reality I've been experiencing these past few weeks.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for your sweet words and support.

Happy Monday!

How to Do Black Tie

2011-10-14T22:42:00.004-04:00

via

Absolute perfection. The hair, the smiles, that dress.
They can do no wrong!

In the Tunnel

2011-10-13T10:39:00.006-04:00

Have you ever read something that put a lump in your throat immediately, that spoke to just what you were needing to hear? I just had one of those moments. Someone on Facebook posted a link that has changed my day.

The truth is, I'm in a tunnel. The last three weeks have been some of the hardest I've had as a parent.

Newborn exhaustion I understand. I seek to encourage friends with small babies - bring meals, send notes, write long emails answering questions about nursing and schedules and taking care of yourself amidst the very steep learning curve of those early weeks.

A month ago, I would have told you we'd hit a great stride as parents. We knew Mac well, we understood his needs, we had a successful routine and when we hit a roadblock, we figured out a way around it. Gold stars all around!

I suppose pride always comes before a fall, and the last three weeks have been a disastrous tumble. Mac, my sweet sleeper, has screamed through naptime eight of his last ten tries. He's not a child who can do without sleep, much like his mama, and has taken to screeching, "Mama where are you RIGHT NOW?" while I wonder exactly how miserable he'll be the rest of the day without his much-needed rest.

And "rest" is not what he's getting. He won't read, settle or even sit down for the duration. It's torture. We NEED that sleep - but more than anything I need not to hear and see my child so unhappy.

There's a lot being neglected in the meantime: work, the house, the Y, carefree chit-chat with friends, non-essential activities, a long to do list and, worst of all, my mental health.

Mix in Mac's birthday double ear infection, recovering from hand/foot/mouth, currently cutting four incisors and two school "holidays" and you'll find a schedule that's unrecognizable and a household that could use a serious do-over for the whole month so far.

Mac, ever the overachiever, has taken a flying leap into two-year-old behavior; our days must be two-thirds discipline and one-thirds waiting for discipline. I feel for him, as this must be difficult for him to understand, and I unabashedly feel for myself as we navigate new, pretty darn murky waters. Where did our obedient little guy go?

As many challenges have come these last few weeks, there have been just as many sweet moments. Fleeting moments, sure, but they give me a flash of the Mac I'm used to and it's a comfort. I remind myself that this is just a phase - because it is. (Right? Please!)

It's my job to be consistent, calm and loving to Mac in every season of his life. I can't expect him to work through unexpected emotions and make good decisions no matter his impulses unless I do the same. But this is tougher than I anticipated.

Hand me a breastfeeding problem, a baby with reflux, a nighttime routine in need of reshaping or a "when to start cereal?" question and I'm prepared(-ish). These new issues, though, have thrown me into a tailspin - and have me making the ultimate rookie mistake: feeling like there's no end in sight.

Just as I felt as a new mom, when I presumed "this" must just be what parenthood is, I can't see the bigger picture right now. I'm too entrenched in the "getting through" part to realize how quickly this stage, like every other, will pass.

This morning someone gave a name to my season: the Tunnel. The power of naming something can't be overstated; it's the very idea that someone else has been where you are, that it's real, that you aren't alone, that you're not crazy.

In addition to naming it, this post reminded me how different parenthood looks from just a few years away. I can already feel how swiftly the calendar is flipping past; we're nearly done with 2011 and I can barely believe we're past Easter. But that kind of perspective and reassurance from a mom who's been there, several times over in fact, is invaluable.

If you're a mom who's in the Tunnel of the first five years, when physical and emotional needs change constantly and you're wondering if the Lord has entrusted your sweet munchkins with a mother capable enough to cope, let me point you in this direction.

If you have a newborn and you want your hand held and your eyelids propped open, please call me. I'd love to encourage you.

If you've been squarely in the toddler tunnel, bouncing between gratitude for a healthy boy and a growing baby on the way and sheer panic about this is all going to work out, feel free to impart your wisdom on me. Or just excuse the circles under my eyes and four crumbled up Kleenexes in my hand at all times.

Wherever you are, "they" say every stage just gets better. I believe that, I do. I see the developments and I hear the new phrases every hour. I wouldn't go backwards for the world, but I'd sure love a little sunshine in our rainy week.

If you need some too, let ~~a blogger who isn't throwing herself a pity party~~ this mom encourage you today.

The good news: the Tunnel doesn't last forever. The bittersweet part: we'll miss being needed this much when it's all over. But that's another issue for another day.

Honorable mention: This post, for the "weary mother," has stuck with me all week. No matter what I'm facing, I'm reminded it's an act of worship to let the little children, including my own handsome, sleep-deprived, teething toddler, come to me.

Happy Thursday, friends. Thanks for being there!

*Disclaimer: Despite what might seem like a whine-fest, let me be quite clear that I'm tremendously thankful and in love with our little family. I wouldn't trade my Mac for the world, and I'm grateful for the sweet, silly big brother our baby girl will be getting. I would, however, love to get a brain transplant with a wise, more experienced, totally laidback and fully confident mom. And also I'd like a long nap. But I said I'd stop whining, so let's go back to the lovefest. Wouldn't trade my challenging, wild and utterly adorable little man, currently saying "So-ee, Mama" for a headbutt/nose kiss combo, for all the tea in Charleston. The end.*

Coming Home to Clemson

2011-10-10T16:06:00.004-04:00

Saturday the boys and I went to Tigertown to celebrate Clemson's Homecoming.

We were so looking forward to showing our little man around campus, enjoying the floats and catching up with friends. Mac was mostly excited about the "cook-ghees."

This picture was taken two seconds after we arrived; he refused to stop eating even to smile. A boy after my own heart!

Mac has been to one other Clemson game, last year's Homecoming. (The rest of the games his grandparents are more than happy to keep him company while we cheer on our Tigers.) He's grown a little since last year, though, and is past his "nap in the stroller" days.

What a baby! Homecoming 2010

This year, he rode to our tailgate in a "wed gagon" filled with food, books, toddler gear and a 35-pound chunk of a boy. He got more than a few second glances strolling downtown in this get-up!
Despite how it appears here, the boy didn't sit still. We had tickets, as well as high hopes of taking him into Death Valley for his first game, but it was not to be. He wouldn't stay in one spot for a millisecond, so I knew bringing him into a crowd of 80,000-plus would be a sticky situation.
Mac loved the floats, especially the giant "tactor" on Bowman Field. I loved the nostalgia of walking through campus and remembering long nights spent pomping the floats (or bringing cookies to the boys who were actually doing the work, to be honest) and not requiring caffeine to stay up after 11pm.

If you want to feel old, walk around campus pregnant with your toddler and husband. Smile at the pretty freshmen and remind yourself that you wouldn't trade places. (Because you wouldn't.)
We ended the day much like we started it: rolling across campus - this time without a nap and with fewer cookies on board.

While we didn't get to make it inside to cheer on the Tigers, we were happy to get another victory and a day spent in one of our favorite places!

You at Two

2011-10-09T21:54:00.003-04:00

Dear Mac,
Last week you turned two; already I can sense a definite shift in you. It sounds crazy, I'm sure, but you're just more two. More independent, more verbal, more opinionated, more sure of yourself. You're a whole new boy.

A few things I'll always want to remember about your birthday and you at this sweet, new age:

Eating "bird-day finch toast" with you and your daddy yesterday.

Watching you use the honey (I didn't give you syrup; you're sweet enough) as a hair product and a breakfast topping.

Taking you for a "birthday haircut" - anything becomes celebratory with the word "birthday" in front of it!

"Melmo get bird-day haircut, Mama!"

Letting you have not one but two cupcakes before bed.

Helping you open the presents that arrived on our doorstep during your nap. Lights and music and Elmo, oh my!

Hearing you pick up new phrases and sentences in an instant.

Listening to you recount your day and marveling at what's in that brain of yours.

Glancing around at the cards and gifts surrounding you and thinking I can't wait for you to write your own thank you notes. But I can wait for you to grow up...

You do so many sweet and funny things, Mac. I could write for ages about the times you have us in stitches, or the times we have to bite our lips to keep from grinning when it's time to be serious with you. That's another post for another day, though.

For now, I want to remember how willful and smart and independent you were on the very day you turned two. You got the memo, you moved from baby to boy and you left us all scrambling to catch up. So slow down, ok?

And be proud that this year your mom didn't cry! I'm far too proud to be sad about time flying.

We love love love you, little man.

Celebrating Early

2011-10-04T11:14:00.007-04:00

Mac "hosted" playgroup yesterday with a table full of healthy treats complemented by the world's largest dish of banana pudding, courtesy of his great-grandmother. (I ~~purposely didn't share~~ forgot to put it out at his party.)

You can imagine which snack he was most interested in and how much of it he consumed. Fruit+dairy+homemade = healthy, yes?

In the spirit of "keeping it real," I present to you a bedheaded, messy-faced, crumb-covered, nap-skipping, punch drunk and giddy-for-his-own-birthday Mac.

He has been singing Happy Birthday to himself for the better part of four days. What will he do tomorrow when it's his actual birthday?

I don't know that he could muster up anymore enthusiasm than he does here, despite the fact that he's running on fumes. (See: exhausted face, bursts of energy, crazy demeanor and the fact that, midway, he stops to say, "Cheese!" after just realizing I am filming him.)

What a Weekend!

2011-10-02T21:49:00.005-04:00

Last week was one of the hardest I can remember - but this weekend? This weekend made up for it a million times over. Can't wait to share pictures, details and some non-"woe are we" talk!

For now, I'm soaking up every last moment of the weekend that remains. (Probably forty-five minutes 'til I hit the hay, but still...)

Hope you all had a fabulous weekend, too!

The Week that Wasn't

2011-09-28T14:50:00.005-04:00

I had a plan for this week: a thought-out, filled to the brim kinda plan. Every hour was accounted for and every day had achievable goals.

Sound nuts? Well, I knew this week would be nuts. We're finishing up house projects before Mac's party Saturday and preparing for the celebration itself. I also had a busy work week ahead with an extra (fun!) project on my plate.

Then Mac got fussy on Sunday. And feverish Sunday night. And refused to be put down for hours at a time. He wanted our arms around him at all times, our faces right next to him. Our sweet boy just wasn't himself.

Monday morning we found out why: In addition to cutting four canine teeth, he has an ear infection and hand, foot and mouth disease. We came home with a prescription to treat the ear infection and were told that only Tylenol and time could cure the rest.

By Tuesday afternoon Mac was so much worse that B took him back to the doctor for a stronger antibiotic and another look. Sure enough, the HFM had become the worst the doctor had seen in years - red bumps all over his sweet body. Miserable spots down into his throat and all over the inside of his mouth. And a double ear infection on top of everything.

B rarely takes Mac to the doctor; that's my gig. I, however, was at home curled up in bed with a bottle of Gatorade in one hand and some ginger ale in the other. It hasn't been pretty. (Neither have I.) What a week - and it was only Tuesday.

Bradley took Mac outside to swing last night, as it was the only suggestion that managed a smile out of our unhappy boy. Sadly, ten minutes outside turned into four mosquito bites on his face, bites that have since become welts. WELTS. On top of everything. My boy can't catch a break.

Mac at the doc - and not nude, though it sure looks that way here!

He's old enough to tell me his mouth hurts, his ears hurt, his knee hurts. (That last part he's just making up to get kisses, but he's so pitiful I don't blame him.)

He's young enough to be clingier than Downy-less laundry. And at nearly 34 pounds, it's an act of sacrificial love to haul this handsome hunk of a mini-man around. But I'm doing it.

I'm also emailing and phone calling and to-do listing and eagerly counting down his return to school tomorrow and grandparents' arrival on Friday. We are ready to have extra hands on deck!

Boy oh boy, I had big plans for this week. Few items have made it to fruition, but I'm thankful for a husband who goes to the pharmacy for meds and comes home with ginger ale, Gatorade and a bag of candy corn for me. (I can't eat it quite yet, but just the sight of it makes me smile.)

And our second baby (wow that's crazy to say!) is just fine. My doctor assures me that a day of liquids only won't hurt her, and heaven knows I have enough fat in reserve to sustain this child through Labor Day 2015. They did ask me to refrain from kissing our infected little guy, but that warning came days too late.

The worst is over, I hope, and the contagious days are definitely behind us. I cringe thinking about the symptom-less days before he became sick when we spread our germs unknowingly all over town. Eep.

For now, forgive our radio silence in real life and in the blog world. I hope to return with some fun pre-birthday pictures later this week and some party fun after his shindig Saturday.

Funny how a small, simple and sweet get-together becomes quite an ordeal at the end of a week like this one. Even laying out a PB&J dinner for three would be a struggle at this moment.

I'm focusing on Lysol and staying germ-free 'til Mac blows out those candles. Red spots or no spots, the boy deserves to celebrate his second year with a bang.

It's A....

2011-09-20T20:17:00.004-04:00

We caught a peek of our baby this week! To say we are excited would be an uncharacteristic understatement.

Everything looks healthy and perfect; we couldn't be more grateful.

As far as gender goes...

...Mac will be having a little SISTER!

Yes, friends, it's a girl. (And we already think she's gorgeous!) In less than five months, we hope to see this sweet face for ourselves.

What a tremendous, precious blessing. We're over the moon!

Now could someone tell me what little girls do, exactly? It's all tractors and trucks over here...

Copy-Kates

2011-09-13T11:34:00.003-04:00

via

Duchess Catherine, formerly known as Kate Middleton, has been a style for some time now, even before that big, sparkly sapphire was on her left hand. Add in a title and an over-the-top royal wedding and you've got a formula for a full-on fashion plate.

Some disagree, calling the former Miss Middleton more style follower than trendsetter. In fact, Nordstrom's fashion director Gregg Andrews has suggested she wouldn't turn heads in New York City if she wasn't on Prince William's arm.
I may be the wrong person to ask, as I've never aspired the style of Kate Moss, someone Mr. Andrews finds to be the epitome of a style icon. In my opinion, though, the return of "princess style" is a wonderful thing.

She's only 29, sure, but Catherine's style can apply to just about anyone. Especially her habit of recycling memorable ensembles with just a few small changes. We can all implement that idea, whether our outfits are cocktail dresses or white jeans and cardigans.

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Would I wear everything Kate has? Probably not. A few of her nautical and military ensembles (the two on the left above) look fabulous on her, but just aren't up my alley.

Lower hemlines, nipped-in waists, nude heels, classic coats, timeless jewelry and appropriate attire for every event - to me, that's the height of style. I don't rush to try new silhouettes or rebuild my entire wardrobe each season, so I take comfort in a stylish young royal whose taste seems so understated and tailored.

Call me a Copy-Kate, but had I the budget and the occasion to duplicate most anything Duchess Catherine has worn before and I'd be all over it.

Do you find Kate's style to be too staid and demure, or are you hopping on board the Repli-Kate train as well? Has she worn anything you adore - or would have to pass up?

Counting Down: One Week!

2011-09-12T14:41:00.003-04:00

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There are a lot of mini-countdowns when you're expecting.

The wait between finding out our happy news and hearing a heartbeat: 4 weeks

The time between hearing that sweet heartbeat and wrapping up my first trimester: 4 weeks

The silent weeks between wrapping up the first trimester and spilling the beans to the whole wide world. Or, more accurately, the whole wide internet: 2 weeks

The days left until our ultrasound: SEVEN

Mac's ultrasound day in May 2009 was beyond compare. B and I left giddy, agreeing that we'd rather relive the 30 minutes with that ultrasound screen than our entire wedding day. We watched the DVD over and over at home, in awe.

There is one week left between me and seeing baby #2. I think of it hourly, praying for a healthy baby, a strong heartbeat, lots of movement and beautiful, perfect little organs. I pray for peace and calm and patience; none of these has ever been my strong suit.

Everyone has an opinion about the gender of this little one, mostly thinking pink. I, on the other hand, am far less fixated on gender and more focused on getting a clean bill of healthy for our bean.

Of course I'm itching to know if "it" is a he or a she. How so many of our close friends have gone without knowing is beyond me. I'm anxious to use the right pronoun ("it" is getting old) and call the baby by name. That was my favorite moment in Mac's ultrasound, finding out he was a boy and saying out loud, "He's Mac!"

We all know a watched pot never boils, so I'm filling up this week with as much busy-ness as possible.

I've promised, as a mom, never to wish Mac's life away. I won't even beg to hurry through this week. I will, however, stay so busy that I hardly have time for the "is it Monday yet?" thoughts that pop up.

Next Monday morning, though, I'll be singing a different tune. "Are you in there, baby? Hope you're feeling immodest! We can work on your sense of propriety once you get here. For now, little bean, let it all hang out!"

In the meantime, care to distract me?

A Bit of Peace

2011-09-11T22:40:00.003-04:00

We sang Your Great Name in service this morning and, despite the anniversary of an unspeakable tragedy, I felt a tremendous sense of peace.

All the weak find their strength at the sound of Your great name.
Hungry souls receive grace at the sound of Your great name.
The fatherless, they find their rest at the sound of Your great name.
Sick are healed and the dead are raised at the sound of Your great name.

Jesus, Worthy is the Lamb that was slain for us, Son of God and Man.
You are high and lifted up that all the world will praise Your great name.

Redeemer, My Healer, Lord Almighty.
My savior, Defender, You are My King...

I'm sure you're not shocked that, today of all days, these words had me in tears.

My prayer today has been that all who are hurting would feel a peace that passes all understanding, that they would be healed and know His hope.

Losing My Ever-Loving Mind

2011-09-08T20:07:00.012-04:00

Evidently I'm losing my ever-loving mind. Cases in point:

I caused a buzz. A few weeks ago, when I was feeling less Anne-like and more zombie-like, Mac and I made an emergency run to Moe's because it was all I could imagine stomaching for supper. (Full disclosure: I'm picky as all get out and order tacos with just beans, beef and lettuce on them. A waste of eating out, I know.)

The food was delicious, Mac behaved himself superbly and we enjoyed a full view of entering and exiting guests, all of whom seemed to be making quizzical faces and casting curious glances towards the parking lot. We sat and people watched for a while after eating, trying to figure out what was going on. The reason revealed itself when we made our way out: I'd left my car running for the entire meal.
I shoplifted yesterday. I was at store number three in a seemingly endless search to find the right size envelopes for a project. A sales lady at Store Three suggested Store Four, so I high-tailed it out of there while I still had the motivation to keep looking. At Store Four, I realized I'd shoved the previous store's unwanted envelopes in my purse on my way out. Eep.

Thankfully, Store Three's cashier didn't bat an eyelash when I returned them this morning. I didn't even claim pregnancy brain, just apologized profusely and sped home. I may never return.
I singlehandedly opened a restaurant. Two friends and I were meeting for lunch today with free pizza coupons (thanks, Mellow Mushroom!) and a desire to eat early and avoid the other lunchers clogging up the kitchen with their own free pizza orders.

Evidently I was so eager to eat that I arrived a full forty five minutes early, opening the door as the first non-employee to show up - and thoroughly puzzling all in sight. (You know no one moves too quickly at the 'Shroom.) Either I can't tell time, I forgot when we were meeting or my brain is still celebrating the long weekend.
I got lost in time. Three times in the last week, once to a reporter and twice to dear friends, I have referred to the current year as 2010. Seriously.
I can't count. I requested the new season of Parks & Recreation be sent to us by Netflix - but somehow messed the order of the discs up. As such, we are now in possession of disc two and wondering what happened in the first third of the season. (It took a whole episode before I caught on that we'd jumped into the middle of the story...)
I cried at Sesame Street. I probably would have done so even without the assistance of pregnancy, but it must be stated: the extra hormones don't help.

Do you get a lump in your throat when will.i.am (the tear-jerkiest crooner of all time, right?) sings about your child being thoughtful? No? Okay then.

These aren't the first times I've acted like a dunce, and they sure won't be the last. But without a big round belly to prove I'm pregnant (and thus share some of the blame with my brain cell-stealing baby-to-be), I'm afraid the blame falls squarely on me.

Am I going plum crazy?

No Gifts, Please - Just Pass the Cake!

2011-09-01T15:37:00.010-04:00

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You may know of my addiction to all things etiquette and advice-related. I frequent the columns of Miss Manners, Carolyn Hax and Dear Prudence and sometimes wish I could join their ranks, but that's a story for another day.

This time I'm asking for insight from you.

The question: As Mac's second birthday approaches, how can I convey that gifts are not necessary at his party?

The background: Last year, we explicitly stated "no gifts, please" on the invite. No one complied, but we wanted the small group invited to know that their excitement was more than enough for our well-loved boy. (Obviously, Mac was overjoyed and "wrote" everyone thank you notes. But the hope was that they felt free to come empty-handed, too.)

Emily Post and Miss Manners, however, believe that just mentioning gifts, even if you are asking guests not to bring any, implies that they should have thought to bring one, or that they would have.

So this year, I left that clause off. (Invites have yet to go out.) But we still want our nearest and dearest to know they needn't bring anything but themselves.

We're inviting guests so we can have a few extra voices in the mix as we warble out "Happy Birthday!" and stuff ourselves with cake; I don't want them to feel compelled to bring a thing.

Side note: This is not a judgment against people who do want people to bring their children gifts. Who doesn't want their child celebrated? And it's not that gifts are entirely unwelcome or unappreciated, just unnecessary. Coming by means enough!

Mac isn't covered up in toys, as we have gone heavy on books and light on shiny things in his two years. But he has no need for anything in particular besides cake and candles.

So the goal is: if you want to swing over for a sweet treat and the blowing out of two candles, feel free to do that, sans the trip to the toy store.

Back to the point: How we should we let people know? Word of mouth? A note after the invite that conveys we'd love to see them, but they should feel welcome to bring only themselves?

How would you do it? And was there an age (for your children) at which you stopped saying "no gifts" or is that always an acceptable concept?

(Do fifth-graders rebel at such nonsense, or are overstretched parents even more thankful then for the reprieve?)

So looking forward to your thoughts!

xoxox,
A hostess planning two dinner parties thisveryminute to appease Miss Manners' "where has non-gift-related entertaining gone?!" voice pointing out her hypocrisy.

Never Say Never: My Accent Vlog

2011-08-31T13:45:00.011-04:00

I'm doing what I thought I'd never do: a vlog.

Y'all, I'm so awkward. But I'm biting the bullet and joining the accent vlog fun because I'm so fascinated by the way people talk. The quirky colloquialisms and especially the vowels (you can always tell where someone's from by their vowels) captivate me.

So here are mine. Namely, none. I wish I had more "shut the front door, dahlin'-ness" seeping out of me, but I just don't.

I used to take offense when people asked where I was from ("um, here?") but now I just appreciate the vast range of accents we've all got. Even a non-accent's an accent, I suppose. (See: British actors learning an "American accent" for a part.)

I'd love to hear your accent. I got the idea from Jenna's Journey and hope you'll tell me if you decide to participate!

One question: How exactly does one sign off of a vlog? The same way one says goodbye at the end of a phone conversation? Ok great, I'll go with that method...

The instructions are to say these words:
Aunt, Route, Wash, Oil, Theater, Iron, Salmon, Caramel, Fire, Water, Sure, Data, Ruin, Crayon, Toilet, New Orleans, Pecan, Both, Again, Probably, Spitting image, Alabama, Lawyer, Coupon, Mayonnaise, Syrup, Pajamas, Caught

And answer these questions:
What is it called when you throw toilet paper on a house?
What is the bug that when you touch it, it curls into a ball?
What is the bubbly carbonated drink called?
What do you call gym shoes?
What do you say to address a group of people?
What do you call the kind of spider that has an oval-shaped body and extremely long legs?
What do you call your grandparents?
What do you call the wheeled contraption in which you carry groceries at the supermarket?
What do you call it when rain falls while the sun is shining?
What is the thing you use to change the TV channel?

Wordless Wednesday: Cover of Preschool GQ

2011-08-31T11:49:00.000-04:00

Is this REALLY a question?

2011-08-30T00:20:00.003-04:00

Subtitle: Not a fair fight.

Evidently, while I was visiting family the other weekend there was a little ceremony in LA. An intimate affair otherwise known as Kim Kardashian's ~~circus~~ wedding.

Guests were asked to wear black or white, in keeping with the nuptial "theme," and each of the bride's sisters (and mother) wore white and carried white bouquets. Someone was taking this "our royal wedding" concept a little far.

I could rant about the wedding, the lack of a groom in 90% of her pictures (true love!) and the beyond excess of 31 carats on your ring finger and $65 million in borrowed jewels, but I won't. I won't even borrow pics from People, a publication that paid a hefty price to cover the event exclusively.

I will, however, question their sanity in posting this when rating wedding guest fashions:

PIPPA vs. LINDSAY

Really? Is this even a question, People?

In one corner, Prince William's sister-in-law wearing Temperley of London on the way to her sister's evening April reception. Regal, classic and relatively covered up for such a black-tie affair. Dressed to be in the presence of royals and family members alike.

In the other corner, an actress whose only credit that comes to mind is easily is a Hayley Mills remake - a far cry from her appearance these days. (Day Old News calls her "baby grandma;" now I see her as a prematurely aged twenty-something with a knitting needle and a rocker at home. No offense to pretty, sweet grandmas everywhere.)

Y'all, there's no question; this fight was fixed from the beginning. Pippa might be insulted that this is up for discussion.

Lindsay, find your natural hair color, a qualified therapist and a new manager. Then lie low for moment. If you want to emulate Pippa's style in the meantime, do so with a touch less peroxide and perhaps a pashmina. You're too young to look this desperate!

P.S. I miss your face. Your natural face. And especially your face circa your Hallie Parker/Annie James days:

Perfection

2011-08-29T14:03:00.009-04:00

I was going to try some awkward "Adele-icate performance" play on words, but realized it's best not to try too hard, as evidenced by Adele herself below.

I haven't watched the VMAs start to finish in at least five years. I'm well past the age of their target audience and don't get as giddy about the over-the-top performance gimmicks or movie tie-ins anymore.

That doesn't mean I don't love a captivating performance, though, and Adele's was perfection. I adore this song, and she seems to be even better live than on my iPod.

My goosebumps had goosebumps.

Give Adele a piano, a microphone and a classic black dress and she'll let it rip. Lady Gaga, I realize this isn't your schtick, but do take note.

Get More: 2011 VMA, Music, Adele

In other "wow" news, Beyonce, just moments after announcing her first pregnancy, belted one out and danced across the stage in heels. Wonder if the sparkly tuxedo is a part of her House of Dereon's inevitable maternity line?

Even if her "Love on Top" isn't your thing, be sure to skip to the last 30 seconds and watch the adorable post-performance belly rub as she unbuttons her sequined jacket to show off a bump. (And how proud does dad-to-be Jay Z look? Cute!)

Now I get to compare my pregnant self to hers for the next six months. If she continues to look this fab, I may have to stop checking...

Get More: 2011 VMA, Music, Beyoncé

What I'm Learning

2011-08-25T14:25:00.005-04:00

I feel better about myself after even the easiest stroll than I do after a full, sweat-inducing workout surrounded by mirrors. And I'm not alone. Why should I see my thighs from every angle when I can be busy using and improving them?
The older I get, the more I care about kitchen counters, paint chips and things I never blinked at a decade ago.
On a full night's sleep, I can handle even the toughest day. Not always with a smile, but usually without tears.
Teeth take their sweet time coming in. When can we invent baby dentures and bypass teething?
There's a difference between exhausted, lazy and sleepy. I'm walking a fine line somewhere between the three.
This pregnancy is flying by much more quickly than Mac's. I keep forgetting I'm pregnant, honestly; the queasiness is gone, baby kicks haven't come and a bump hasn't quite appeared yet. The problem? I'm constantly confused by how tired I am. Then I remember why, and it makes the sloth-like afternoons I've had lately a bit easier to excuse.
I'll probably kick myself for writing that in five months when I feel (and look) mega pregnant. I promise: I'm thankful now and I'll be thankful then.
Blogs can be a source of encouragement or a reason to feel bad about your life and your choices. Read (and follow) accordingly.
Online deals are so tempting. Do I really need this, or am I just drawn to the 3000% off? Am I truly stocking up on Christmas gifts early? And for whom - me or someone else? So hard to tell!
Pregnancy brain is real.
Or I'm going plum crazy.

Smith Family, Party of Four!

2011-08-23T13:22:00.005-04:00

Thank you so much for your well wishes yesterday! We're very, very excited to welcome baby #2 in February of next year.

I am just over 14 weeks and feel like I'm turning a corner on some of the first trimester less-than-delightful stuff. I'd love to be a little less sloth-like in coming months!

This baby has, as another blogger put it, really pulled out all the stops from day one. (We've known for ten weeks.) I have felt much more pregnant this time around.

I even thought it must be twins! Surely one little bean couldn't have such a powerful effect on its mama already, right? Wrong.

With Mac, I took pregnancy test after pregnancy test; I was practically symptom-free and in total awe. "Shouldn't I be feeling something?" This time around, that memory makes me laugh.

But there has never been a better reason to feel less than fabulous. We are thankful to have heard baby's heartbeat four (!!) times now and look forward to an ultrasound at our next appointment.

In the meantime, I am soaking up every last minute with our sweet, busy, growing, teething only child. I hope his grins stick around once his baby brother or sister arrives!

A few outtakes from yesterday's 90-second photo shoot:

This one's probably my favorite. I feel the same way, Mac. Yay!!

I haven't thought too much about how I'll balance working from home with baby, Mac, Bradley and Blue in 2012. Not to mention finding time for laundry, cooking, a shower or a walk around the block.

God has blessed us richly, and I just know He'll help me figure it all out. Or at least send friends to encourage me to bathe occasionally.

Thank you again, sweet friends! Feel free to share your words of wisdom for life with two. I'm taking notes!

A Little (Big) News

2011-08-22T10:29:00.001-04:00

Treadmill Tunes

2011-08-18T15:22:00.013-04:00

My iPod is one-third Dave Matthews, one-third praise music and one-third country and pop. (Yes, I'm a stereotype.) There's one sizable exception: my treadmill tunes.

Heaven knows it's tough to get this nap addict motivated to break a sweat. More than the "walking to your car in August" variety, that is.

As you know, my relatively normal exterior belies a surprising selection of unabashed pop and rap trash, essentially. Whatever gets me through an hour at the Y.

I blogged about my workout playlist in 2009, but it's changed a bit. Some artists have been removed (I'm looking at you, Chris Brown, and am not happy to lose such a fab cardio track) and a new gems have been discovered.

I need a variety of beats for cardio, weights and abs. I can't stand counting to myself while competing with a different beat in my earbuds. I'm not that skilled. So you'll notice slower tunes for abs and angrier tunes (coincidence?) for the tougher parts of my workout.

Note well: I may listen to thugs, but I prefer the profanity-free versions. I have been known to email iTunes when I buy a "clean" version of a song that still contains something I wouldn't hear on the radio.

Some of these rappers are quite talented; I wish their moms, like mine, had told them that foul language is something people use when they're not intelligent enough to find more effective, creative alternatives. Preach it, Louise.

Ready to judge? Let's let it all hang out:

What the Hell - Avril Lavigne

Universal Mind Control - Common

All I Do Is Win - DJ Khaled

Club Can't Handle Me, Flo Rida

Take It Off - Ke$ha
Blow
We R Who We R

Let It Rock - Kevin Rudolf & Lil Wayne

Mr. Brightside - The Killers

Rumors - Lindsay Lohan

Get It Shawty -Lloyd

Closer - Ne-Yo

So What - Pink

I Know You Want Me - Pitbull
Fuego

Hard - Rihanna & Jeezy

Like a G6 - Far East Movement

Run This Town - Jay-Z & Rihanna

Le Belle et Le Bad Boy - MC Solaar
(French rap! Yes, from the final SATC episode.)

Magic - Robin Thicke
When I Get You Alone

Forget You - Cee Lo Green

Jesus Walks - Kanye West

Blacklight - One Call

Dancing in the Dark - Mat Kearney cover

Whip My Hair - Willow

Bottoms Up - Trey Songz

No Diggity - Blackstreet & Dr. Dre

What You Got - Colby O'Donis

Gotta Get Thru This - Daniel Bedingfield

Look At Me Now - Karmin cover

Ain't Nothin' Wrong With That - Robert Randolph & the Family Band

DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love - Usher

Irony: I'm posting this to feel a bit more motivated to use these tunes for something other than cleaning day dance parties. The time I've spent at the Y lately has been in the pool...

Double irony: Me bobbing my head to "you think you're a gangster 'cause you did time..." when I get frustrated by people who run red lights.

Triple irony: My last workout playlist post was written two weeks before I found out I was expecting Mac. If only I knew how little I'd use my treadmill tunes that year!

Why are there so many angry love songs in my playlist? I've been known to cry while breaking a sweat, but do I need to see a therapist to delve into why only such music gets me moving? I'm thankful so many people have had tough break-ups, I suppose.

What am I missing? What gets you going, workout queens? Motivate me!

Advice for Me at Eighteen

2011-08-17T16:04:00.010-04:00

Kristen and I were discussing the perks of marrying the "unlikely" guy. You know, like her company's IT guy who takes his wife out to a cupcake cafe once a week. (Come on, who doesn't love sweets?)

My mind wandered to how far-fetched that situation would have seemed ten or twelve years ago.

My Facebook feed is full of bright-eyed college students giddy to be back in their stomping grounds. (And plenty of moms lamenting their kids' first day of school. An odd dichotomy, right?)

And when you're in that college bubble, who cares about thoughtfulness and cupcakes when you can focus on cool? Or, better yet, cute?

I could write an entire self-help novel to myself circa the turn of the century, but I'll spare you the details. Instead, a few bullet points I'd love to plop into a time capsule and send backwards a decade:

1. You're cooler than you think you are.
2. And come to think of it, there's no shame in being uncool. Most of your favorite people on Earth would profess to falling into that category.
3. The clunky shoe phase is overrated.
4. Sleeping more than 12 hours a day is not a stroke of good luck; it's a sign that something's wrong.
5. It is possible to disagree politely; sometimes it's necessary. You'll never be great at this, but you need to stop being terrified of it.
6. If he shows you his true colors, believe him. There's a time and place for grace, for forgiveness. When it comes to your heart, though, that forgiveness is best given from a distance. I wish it wouldn't take you six years to learn this lesson!
7. Remind your friends it's better to marry the nerd than the cool guy. Obviously you'll never look at your husbands as nerdy, but a man who thinks of himself as cool and tries to live up to that ever-elusive adjective doesn't have half the worth of a guy who thinks of himself rarely.
8. Marry the man who makes you laugh. Better yet, forget about marrying altogether and just spend time with the man who makes you laugh. And think. And takes you to church. The rest will figure itself out in time.
9. You learned that JOY stands for "Jesus first, yourself last and others in betweeeeen." It does. But in order to be joyful, you cannot be a doormat. It's okay to put some needs of yours aside for a greater purpose, but one person's happiness isn't that purpose.
10. You'll never regret the simpler outfit.
11. You'll never, ever regret skipping the belly-button piercing trend.
12. You'll be thankful your whole life to have spent time abroad.
13. You'll wish you did it sooner and longer. Forget the boy (see above); take a semester for you.
14. When someone speaks a truth so painful you can barely listen to it, don't imagine it was easy for them to say. You probably needed to hear it.
15. Go ahead and order those party pics. What you see as a chubby face is what everyone else calls the glow of youth.
16. When a friend calls with an offer to do something, anything - do it. Walk and talk, catch up over lunch, study together, work out, go to a (gasp) different fraternity's party. Meet new people. You'll never be in such close proximity to thousands of your peers. Take advantage!
17. Listen to the little voice. Is there a word of encouragement on your heart? A sweet note you feel like leaving? Something nudging you to call the girl you're really not that close to? You never know what people are walking through. Let God use you. It's worth the chance of being the "awkward girl" (you'll be this girl forever) to know you've made a difference at just the right time.
18. Don't be so scared. It's all going to come together beautifully. God's weaving a mighty big story in you and it's going to take us decades to see the full story. 'Til then, let's just trust that He knows what He's doing.

What would you add?

Yes and No

2011-08-16T18:08:00.005-04:00

Yes, of course Anne Hathaway admires Duchess Catherine's ladylike style. Who doesn't? (Well, one could argue many in LA probably don't. Too much fabric and not enough peroxide...) One brunette beauty appreciating another - I love it!

I love you, Reese, and I'm glad you're so happy about it, but that stomach tattoo? No - just no.
(source)

(source)

Yes, even a little exercise can lengthen our lives! Just the reminder I needed when I find it's too hot to get motivated for a full-on gym showdown.

No, I don't understand why Kevin Federline is still considered news-worthy. Any baby is a blessing, but do we need to celebrate this guy's in People?

Yes, I feel old when I think about how many recruitments have passed since my sorority days.

But no, I don't regret finishing college before every last moment was recorded and shared via the magic of social media.

Ah, the things we do for Greek life. I've sung many a "reworked lyric" in my life and I can assure you they were quite special. Not as special as the rap above, but I admire the dedication of these University of Alabama Panhel Exec members.

(What is it about being in a sorority that inspires us to take the lyrics of popular tunes and shift them around to include our favorite Greek letters? We need to do a post about the most egregious offenses in this category. Surely this number would be included somewhere.)

You know they're getting just as much ribbing in real life as they are online...

And yes, I still have my sorority and Panhellenic t-shirts. Boxes of them. Thankfully I don't have boxes of video like this, though! Whew.

Friendship FAIL

2011-08-15T16:08:00.006-04:00

Remember how I'm a fabulous gift buyer? Well, truth be told, I am. Or at least I try to be.

I put a lot of thought into presents and get so much joy out of finding something I know a friend will love.

The wrapping, packing and shipping is another story.

The year Mac was born, I knew I'd be in the throes of newborn exhaustion come Christmastime, so I had all of our "to ship" gifts purchased and wrapped by mid-September. I placed them in a closet and promptly forgot about them until JANUARY. Horror.

I thought I couldn't top that until....this summer. No newborn to blame.

I purchased gifts for my two dearest friends; Kristen's son was turning one in July and Erin's birthday (just days after her own newborn's) was in late June.

Everything was purchased and set aside in late May. May, people. I'm terrible at secrets. How could I ever keep a gift to myself that long?

On July 29, two days before my own birthday, these sweet packages arrived to celebrate:

Excuse the fuzzy phone pics of such fun, thoughtful, EARLY birthday treats.

Instantly I realized that baby Wynn's gift, a precious personalized bowl and plate set with his name literally and figuratively written all over it, was still on my dining room table.
In addition, a soft ABC book was waiting to be mailed to the birthday boy. It evidently looked so inviting that Mac convinced himself "finders, keepers!" and seemed hesitant to let it go.

Not that a few moments delayed the gift much in the scheme of things. It was already two weeks late by then. Sigh.

And Erin's birthday gift had been left in our trunk (wrapped!) when we met up with her in Charleston to meet baby Katherine after our beach week. At least we remembered to bring in the baby's gift!

Erin's daughter Katherine and our Mac each have handsome chocolate labs, so we were excited to have a little treat made in honor of her "big brother" Harper.

I'd show you a picture of mama Erin's gift, but I delayed mailing it in the hopes that we'd see each other this month. Since that hasn't happened yet, and her birthday's nearly eight weeks behind us, its sweet little wrapped self is on its way to the FedEx store tomorrow, mark my words.

I'm glad I can celebrate the things I'm good at - gift buying, for instance. Gift giving, however, seems to be a stretch for me. Just the getting in there part. Ugh.

Think I can ever be forgiven for such friendship fails to the most thoughtful of people? Remember, should your gift ever been tardy, that it still comes with the best of intentions!

A Crystal Ball for Baby Sizes?

2011-08-11T08:40:00.004-04:00

Our average-sized, perfectly perfect baby

When I was pregnant with Mac, I had several doctors guesstimate what his birth weight would be. Most were clear that theirs was just a ballpark figure; none used an ultrasound to back up any claims.

On the day I delivered, though, a doctor literally felt my stomach (not quite like rubbing Buddha's belly, but close) and told me newborn Mac would weigh "between 7 and 8 pounds."

If I had to guess, I'd say three-quarters of babies are born in that general weight range.

Sure enough, our Mac was born 12 days early weighing 7 pounds and 10 ounces, squarely in the range the doctor predicted. He felt so proud to have been correct!

While my course of treatment and delivery were not affected my doctors' guesses as to Mac's size, I have friends with different experiences. One petite coworker was given a c-section after an ultrasound indicated her baby might be over 9 pounds. Hours later, after what she considers an "unnecessary c-section," her daughter was born weighing barely 6 pounds.

On the other hand, a friend was allowed to go a full week past her due date with the idea that her small (read: 6-ish pounds) baby needed more time to fatten up. When he arrived, he was well over the 9 pound mark.

Anecdotal evidence aside, I wasn't surprised when a friend posted the link to an article indicating how rarely ultrasounds accurately predict a baby's size.

I've always known that guessing a baby's weight is an art, not a science. I imagine doctors take into account the birth weight and current size of each parent, plus the size and weight gain of the mother and the growth pattern of the baby so far.

For the record, I was long (21.5") and lean (5 pounds, 4 ounces), born four full weeks early. Bradley was just as long and born full term, right around 9 pounds.

Mac was born on his own schedule, fully cooked - and I'm so thankful for that. I'm also beyond thankful that his delivery day wasn't affected, either through a recommended c-section or in any other way, by an inaccurate weight guess.

This isn't intended to be a preachy post, just a reminder of what we all know: you know your body and your baby best. Ultrasounds can indicate things, but they can't confirm weight down to a tee. Well, not until they invent an itsy-bitsy scale they can plop right under your tummy to determine your bundle's exact weight.

I trust and listen to my doctors, but I also appreciate that they included my and Bradley's thoughts into their determinations. And that most of them didn't treat their pre-delivery guesstimates to be spot-on predictions of what would come to be.

Moms and moms-to-be, have you had any experience with this? Eerily accurate or totally off-base guesses at your little ones' size?

Even Pettier Pet Peeves

2011-08-10T08:45:00.002-04:00

It was comforting to find I'm not the only gal in the world who has nitpicky misuses of the English language that drive her batty.

In the days since I've written that post, I have found that my pet peeves are many. A few I missed on the first go round:

1. It's y'all, y'all. The incorrect abbreviations of y'all are everywhere. The apostrophe contracts the word you, so it belongs between the y and the all. Often seen as yall, ya'll (contraction of ya all, I suppose?) and even yal'l. Maybe that one was a typo?

2. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. (See: The King and I.) The abbreviation etc. stands for et cetera, a Latin phrase meaning "and other things." Sometimes mispronounced ECK cetera or abbreviated ect. I warned you I was that cool kid in Latin class for five years. Hang on; there's more coming.

3. Vice-versa. Not vice-a-versa. This means "conversely" or "the other way around."

4. Just breathe. Breath is a noun; breathe is a verb. Your advice to someone panicking should either be "deep breaths" or "just breathe," not "just breath."

5. One last comma. Perhaps this is just a style preference, but to me it stands out as an error. There is no need for a comma before the "and" when you're listing a series of things. In other words, it's appropriate to ask for "apples, bananas and oranges" rather than plopping another comma down after "bananas." Hey, I said this list was petty. After years of proofing for school and for a living, though, I'm very mindful of it. I may throw unnecessary commas out sometimes, but never before an "and."

6. Which and that. The words "which" and "that" are not always interchangeable. Visually speaking, though, it drives me crazy to see "which" used without a comma. Grammar Girl explains it all beautifully here, but my point boils down to: if you're going to use "which," you need to put a comma before it. Well, not if you're using a preposition beforehand. (Think "in which," etc.) Okay, end rant.

Think I'm totally neurotic yet?

Disclaimer: Plenty of bright people make mistakes. I certainly do. As a matter of fact, I pronounced archetype "arch-a-type" for years. As in the golden arches, not Noah's boat. Eep.

I pronounced breathy "breathe-y" in English class and discotheque (this is really terrible) "disc-oth-kway" in Physics while reading a word problem. (That is what years of Latin pronunciation will do to you, friends. Thankfully, a few years of French straightened me right out - but not in time.) Nothing like a room of laughing peers to correct your pronunciation!

I'm not great with punctuation inside quotation marks. The look of a question mark after a quotation mark rubs me the wrong way, so I often rework sentences to avoid that. See here to learn about what I mean.

A commenter on my previous post pointed out something I do, though she may not have realized it. I use ellipses quite often. (An ellipsis is the fabulous little collection of three dots used when you're trailing off, as I do so often...) Evidently spaces belong between the periods? I'm so set in my ways that the change looks too awkward to me.

For that matter, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to stop typing two spaces after a period. I sure am trying, though. Darn middle school typing class! I am thankful for the ability to type 100+ words a minute, as it makes my type-happy life a lot easier. My fingers work faster than my brain, though, and I may never outgrow the double spacing ingrained in me in keyboarding class... (Oops, there's that ellipsis again!)

Children of the '90s: Urkel's Back!

2011-08-09T13:39:00.000-04:00

I knew I knew that face. Starring in a Cee-Lo video is quite a jump from his "Did I do thaaaaaat?" days, don't you think?

If only his love interest were Laura Winslow...

Drugstore Deals

2011-08-08T17:37:00.005-04:00

Long ago, I was a single girl on a limited budget that somehow stretched in the most superficial of departments. Before special events, I found wiggle room for a manicure, pedicure and spray tan. My hair was trimmed regularly, whitening strips were in heavy rotation and my makeup, though by no means expertly applied, was from my favorite department store and Sephora brands.

Walking down Walgreens' cosmetics aisle resulted in a basket with a half-dozen lip glosses and a few hair products that were rarely, if ever, used. Mix in the glow of youth and I had a lot of time, energy and money on my side.

These days I have far less time, disposable income and brain cells to devote to the cause. While I hope this doesn't mean I've "let myself go," I find that my focus is on other things more often than not. Do I still want to look cute? Absolutely. Do I have the same resources to do so? Notsomuch.

Sure, I still snag what I need, but my goal is (cringe) value. Sephora sales and free shipping codes, Belk gift cards used for beloved MAC classics and drugstore coupons cashed in to make those brands an even better deal.

Lately I've found a few drugstore items that are even more than I (ha) bargained for - and you know you take a risk when you pick up something new there. Unlike the big box beauty stores, there are no "try before you buy" luxuries, but I've gotten lucky lately and had to share.

Cover Girl NatureLuxe Foundation: I got a free full-sized sample of this through BzzAgent, a program I highly recommend, and I adore it. It's light, with perfect coverage and no heavy feeling. A perfect texture and finish, for just under $10. (I have a few $2 off coupons to share if you're interested - just shout!)

Revlon Grow Luscious Plumping Mascara: I have approximately two eyelashes, both thin and short. As dark as my hair is, it seems epically unfair, but that's another story for another day. I got the waterproof formula, which evidently cuts down on its fabulousness, but this mascara promises to help your lashes grow. Jury's still out on that aspect, but I like the lack of clumpiness and overall look. Not nearly as dramatic as...

Maybelline Falsies Flared: Such a transformation. I've tried the much-loved DiorShow mascara and, while I love the rosewater scent, I find this formula to be just as good for a third of the price. And on sale at Target! (Run!) As I said, anything that makes me look like I even have eyelashes is a vast improvement. Revlon Colorburst Lip Gloss: From the "quilted" top to the half-brush, half-tip applicator, this lip gloss feels far more luxurious than something for sale on a drugstore shelf. I loved it so much I went back for another! (Bonus: They put coupons in the Sunday paper. And evidently you can get them for $0.29 at CVS as part of a bigger deal. So worth it.)

elf Bronzer: Oddly enough, I don't use this product as a bronzer too often. The pink makes a fabulous, sheer blush and the other colors are perfect summer eyeshadows. And for $3, you can't beat it! For those of you with a more natural tan hue, using it for its intended purpose would probably be fabulous. This arctic tan speaks for itself, though.

Don't get me wrong, I still find that my Bare Minerals powder and a few annual essentials are worth the trip to and expense of department stores, but drugstore deals are making my summer a lot more fun. Have you found any new products I need to try?

What's Not to Love?

2011-08-05T11:56:00.004-04:00

A few things that have just made my week:

1. Duchess Catherine recycling outfits for a royal wedding last weekend. Zara Phillips, the daughter of Princess Anne and first cousin of Prince William, was married in the first large gathering of "senior royals" since that other wedding back in April.

Knowing, undoubtedly, how interested the press would be in her outfit, the Duchess deferred to the bride by rewearing a recent LA acquisition the night before the wedding and pulling out an even older ensemble for the nuptials themselves.

If this doesn't completely win over every last member of the House of Windsor, I don't know what will! (Not that she hasn't won their hearts already, but truly... What a thoughtful gesture!)

Kelly Osborne, daughter of Ozzy, has come out saying she would wear a new dress every day if she were a Queen-to-be. Essentially criticizing the Duchess' recessionista strategy. You can't please everyone, I suppose, and Kelly O is likely at the bottom of Catherine's "must win over" list. Just above those of us in America, I'm guessing!

For a great recap of Kate's great recycles, look here.

2. There has been a lot of blogosphere chatter lately about the implied superiority of Southerners, the rigidity of their evidently unspoken "rules" (no jeans before a first birthday, no going out without makeup, among others) and the flippant use of the term "Yankees" for people who aren't from 'round here.

I adore being from the South. I love raising our Mac here. Our deep sense of history, collectively and as indviduals, means the world to me - and I love that anyone can feel a part of it. That said, I think there are some real misunderstandings about what it means to be Southern.

I'm a passionate fan of Garden & Gun, particularly the latest issue with a special section on the fabulousness of Greenville. (Go buy it!) I loved this piece, about redefining what it means to be a Southern belle in modern times. I consider it a must read! It says a great deal about the women who live here and the attributes we aspire to have.

I don't ever want being Southern to be perceived as a liability, which I have found throughout my life to be the case for many - even people living here. I do, however, think everyone has strong traditions and deeply-felt reasons to love where they live, as they should. No implied superiority here, but I will say don't knock it 'til you come to visit. You may be blown away!

Not to say the South or its crazy band of residents are perfect, but no place is. I have a great book called The Seven Signs of Southerness that quotes Southern artists and writers and politicians on the peculiarities of their stomping grounds. The feeling is unanimous: we're weird, we're different and we like it that way. And why shouldn't we? If you don't like who you are and where you live, it's probably time to make some changes.

As far as what you or your children wear when you leave the house, that's entirely up to you. Don't forget, though, that kids have eyes; one day they'll look back at pictures and laugh. This is true whether they're in smocked jon jons or skinny jeans - it's a rite of passage.

I don't consider myself better than people in other parts of the country because I live here, but I do consider myself very, very blessed to have the privilege. I hope others feel the same.

3. What if your "something old" were really, really old? I loved this story about a St. Louis bride who wore an inherited wedding dress (from 1884!!) on her big day. So much history! I've heard of borrowed veils, passed-down sixpence coins and a few heirloom dresses, but nothing with this many generations under its satin belt. So jealous! Who wouldn't love to have a gorgeous piece of their family's history from so long ago?

22 + 2 = 2?!

2011-08-05T08:58:00.004-04:00

The handsomest men I know

Mac is 22 months old today. When I'm asked how old he is, I usually respond, "He'll be two in October." For ages, I could barely choke out "one" as an answer to the same question. Now Mac is undeniably not just one.

Pushing TWO. My baby boy is no longer. Tear.

The good news? The toddler who has replaced him is a delight. A busy, loud, challenging delight.

The last month has been a wonderful one. We spent a full week at the beach, visited the Upstate Children's Museum, splashed a-plenty at the pool and watched Mac have his first swim lessons.

Mac has worked on mastering stairs, a thousand new words, the understanding that Big Bird's name isn't "Elmo bird" and an even more impressive ability to mimic everything he hears and narrate everything he does and sees.

I told Mac once earlier this week, as he was crying, no less, that I loved him "to the moon." He stopped crying immediately and said, "Love you moon, Mama." Now he says it almost hourly. Melt me!

Clearly Mac has picked up on my reaction, as he yelled through his closed bedroom door several times after I put him down: "Dud joo moon, Mommy! Dud joo, moon!"

Mac has doubled his number of teeth this month. A slow teether, he had four up top and two on the bottom until just last week. He cut four molars and, even as I type, is busting out two new bottom teeth to balance out the little pearlies up top. Whew, that's some hard work. And it looks like a few more may be in store. He's making up for lost teething time, that's for sure.

I can't wait to see what my twenty-two month-old has in store for us in the coming days. I'm going to hang on to "one" as long as I can, though. (Cue "Jack and Diane" playing in the background.)

Where has this summer gone? October 5 will be here before we know it.

A Walk Down Library Lane

2011-08-03T16:35:00.005-04:00

One of the my favorite things, for as long has I can remember, has been reading. Getting so sucked into a book that I'm sad to see it end and spending hours thinking about the characters, rewriting their endings and pondering sequels.

I hope Mac grows up with the same ability to lose himself in a story; I plan to instill in him the same excitement about going to the library that my mom gave me. Sure, there are other ways to read books nowadays, but the wonder of turning a page and seeing an illustration in living color can't be overstated. And my little bookworm seems to be on the right track so far.

Yes, it's true that right now all he does is shout out every miniscule detail he sees on the page ("sunshine! clock! hat! flower! mouse - squeak squeak! monkey! juice! car - vroom vroom!") but surely that will translate itself into reading voraciously one day, right?

I came across a list of "must read" children's authors and it got me reminiscing about my favorite storytellers from a few decades back.

Here were the author's suggestions for top ten authors and their most prized works, in descending order:

10. Ludwig Bemelman: Madeline
9. Roald Dahl: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
8. J.K. Rowling: Harry Potter
7. Margery Williams: Velveteen Rabit
6. Katherine Paterson: Bridge to Terabithia
5. Janell Cannon: Stellaluna
4. Judy Blume: Fudge
3. Dr. Seuss: Green Eggs and Ham
2. Maurice Sendak: Where the Wild Things Are
1. Shel Silverstein: Where the Sidewalk Ends

Would you add any to this list? I'm not familiar with Janell Cannon and I (eep) haven't read any of the Harry Potter books, so my top ten would also include:

Eric Carle: Anything! For the tiniest of readers, his colorful, timeless stories about hungry caterpillars and sharp-eyed bears are classics.

Chris Van Allsburg: The Polar Express (Runner up: Jumanji)

Beverly Cleary: Anything, but particularly the Ramona books.

Arnold Lobel: Frog and Toad

Peggy Parish: Amelia Bedelia

Harry Allard: Miss Nelson Is Missing!

Don Freeman: Corduroy

Marc Brown: The Arthur series

My favorite baby gift books are Goodnight Moon, Runaway Bunny, Pat the Bunny and (new addition!) the Stinkyface series.

What am I missing? Any favorites from your childhood libraries or must-give gifts for parents-to-be?

Side note: Library Lane is the name of my china pattern. See how I substituted Library for Memory? I amuse myself sometimes...

Georgia is a Big Ol' Fake

2011-07-28T15:28:00.003-04:00

Perhaps that was a bit inflammatory, but it's the truth. No matter the fruit on the state license plate, I'll never think of Georgia as the real peach state.

Thankfully, there's more to my instinct than just digging in my heels. The New York Times has done a pretty good job summarizing what most of us here in the Palmetto State know... There's no better place to buy and eat your peaches.

We grow more, we sell more - and ours are just better. In my markedly biased opinion, obviously, seeing that I've eaten only a handful of Georgia-grown peaches in my lifetime.

With August, National Peach Month, just around the corner, there's no better time to nab a basket full of Gaffney peaches. Little boys may giggle that the giant Peachoid looks quite similar to a backside, but there's a reason that giant fruit keeps watch over their corner of the Upstate: They grow some unparalled peaches.

Besides making a kitchen smell fabulous, they taste pretty darn amazing, too. And you'd be surprised how much you can do with them!

I, the furthest thing from a culinary genius, have grilled them, served them with pork tenderloin, plopped them in a pie, sliced them over biscuits, used them as an ice cream topping, pureed them into a smoothie and, of course, eaten them the good old fashioned way - straight.

I humbly suggest that Georgia find a new state nickname. I wouldn't echo Stephen Colbert's suggestion, because it's not Georgia's fault Sherman burned them to the ground - and he didn't do us any favors, either - but this video is worth a moment nonetheless.

(Side note: Have you seen the peach pie on last month's Southern Living cover? With pecans and cinnamon? Oh, to be a taste tester in that kitchen!)

The Colbert Report

Mon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

National Peach Month

www.colbertnation.com

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Mac-tionary

2011-07-22T09:13:00.015-04:00

I haven't done a monthly update for Mac in some time ~~because I'm a terrible mom~~, but I wanted to keep a little record of his exponentially growing vocabulary. At 21 months old, the boy can talk! He repeats ev-er-y-thing we say (including my squeal of "shut uppppp!" when I found out someone was pregnant. Classy, Anne.)

Most of his words are easily understood by people outside our little family, but a number are tough to translate at first. Here's a little Mac-tionary for us to remember his "baby talk" by when he's throwing three-syllable SAT words at us:

Ah me: Excuse me. (Buuuurp. "Ah me, Mama. Burp!") Also used to make shoving past someone or something a bit more polite. ("Ah me, Blue. Move, Blue! Ah meeee!")

Ah-pack: Backpack.

Ah-coss: Applesauce.

Ah-pye: Peep-eye

Ah-boo: Peekaboo

Aircane: Airplane. He hears these from inside and squeals, bouncing up and down and pointing at the ceiling. He misses nothing!

All ga: (With accompanying hand sign.) All gone, all done, totally over it, don't want anymore, are we done yet, get me outta here.

Babby hoot: Bathing suit. Mac brings these to me occasionally and asks to play in the pool or the ocean ("bubbles!"). He is a water baby for sure.

Bah-perr: Diaper. A cue to hit the changing table ASAP. Sometimes used for water when he sees a bottle of it.

Bock bock: Rock rock. Either as a request to delay bedtime or as a description of his "bock bock horse" or "bock bock chair."

Boom boom: Thunder.

Bubbles: The ocean, fountains, rain and actual bubbles. (Rain is actually "bubbles sky," which makes it a lot harder to hate rainy days. Everything is wondrous to a toddler!)

Bye-eeke: Bicycle, motorcycle, moped. The "eeke" portion gets louder and more excited depending upon how cool the bike is. (In traffic: "Bye-EEKE, Mama!! Bye-EEKE!!!")

Copy: Coffee. How he learned this one I'll never know, as I don't drink it and B rarely makes any. He'll see mugs and say, "Daddy copy? Hot?"

Daint-dee: Blanky. A fervent request at nap- and bedtimes. Sounds an awful lot like Daddy to the uninitiated.

Daint doo: Thank you. Not to be confused with...

Dud joo: Love you. My very favorite.

Dut: Do it. ("Mama dut? Mama help?")

Emanator: Elevator.

Emanent: Elephant.

Ginky: Stinky. As in diapers and feet, mainly.

Gog: Dog. Also heard as a high-pitched "goggie" when excited.

Gogurt: Yogurt.

Gunkey: Monkey. (He loves his Curious George! He walks around the house carrying and talking to him. Yesterday I tried getting him to say "Muh-muh-monkey." He responded enthusiastically, "Muh-muh-GUNKEY!")

Heat: Sit. ("Heat chair, Mama!" is my cue to plop down in the chair facing him or face his righteous toddler wrath. Kidding! Or listen to the request a million more times 'til I do it.)

Kiger: Tiger. Indistinguishable from the word he uses for spider, too.

Kin: Clemson. Used to describe his favorite "Kin book" and especially his "Kin Kigers."

Meet: Music. ("Mac meet dance, Mama! Meeeeet! Daaaaance!" Cue spinning and arm waving.)

Nunner: Another. ("Nunner cacker, mama?")

Oss: Pronounced like the first half of "awesome." Off or on, depending. ("Shoes oss, Mama?")

Pan: Fan.

Peep: Sheep.

Peet: Feet. (He pretends to smell his feet and then squeals, "Ginky peet, Mama! Ginky peet!" Or, my favorite tongue twister, "Ginky gunkey peet!" for stinky monkey feet.)

Pish: Fish.

Poe: Pillow or phone. (All about context clues. "Mac poe night-night" means pillow while "Mama poe beep beep!" means my phone rang.)

Pog: Frog. Clearly we haven't mastered the "f" sound. And this particular animal says bibbit instead of ribbit.

Ta-tall: When asked how tall he is, Mac will throw his arms up and say "so tall" but it comes out "ta-tall."

Taybee: Safely. We ask him to get down from chairs and beds safely, so when he's ready to scoot off of something, he says "Taybee!" as he flips to his tummy and shimmies off. Not as reassuring as it sounds...

Tee: Television. Sometimes tee-bee. He said this long before it was ever turned on in his presence; the thing holds a fascination for him.

Two: The only number he knows. A request for another. If you tickle one foot, he holds out the other and either asks, "Nonner?" or says, "Two!" Same for kisses; he's very European in his desire for symmetrical kisses one each cheek. Our little Casanova.

Two, poss, GO!: His version of Ready, Set Go. If you ask Mac if he's ready, he'll bounce up and down, wave his arms and say "Two, poss, GO!" He says it to himself before jumping off any stationary object or as he throws something. Not sure if he's picked up one Mandarin/Spanish/Polish phrase or if this is just how he chooses to say our version, but it makes us laugh every time. Ready to go to church Mac? Yes, "two, poss, go!!"

A lot of Mac's phrases don't require translation, though. Here are the easiest to understand if you're not familiar with his brand of babble.

General
chair, high chair, shoes, pray, amen, baby, doors, close, under, hands, book, hold, teeth, brush, hair, head, arms, ears, nose, tummy, boo boo, hurt

Testosterone category
burp, poo poo, potty, trash, car, truck, tractor, hat

Little chunk category
cracker, milk, juice, more, pancakes, honey, bread, cheese, hot dog, turkey, bowl, spoon, cup

Fun times category
bath, towel, duck, good, play, kiss, "hold you!", help, choo choo, Elmo, dance, spin, happy

There are plenty more; I could type this list all day and it grows hourly. Lately there seems to be nothing he can't say. I kept a list of the words he said until about 17 months, when it just got too ridiculous even for OCD me to maintain. This is my last ditch effort!

Sorry for a long, total mom post, but these are the kind of details that slip away as the months roll by and Macky gets bigger and bigger. I'm going to try to get a little "Mac-tionary" movie of Mac saying as many of these as possible, just for posterity's sake. One day I know he'll just love to watch it with me, right?

A Smocked Sale & Dreaming of Cooler Weather

2011-07-21T14:31:00.006-04:00

I took a peek at Zulily today and they have a fabulous sale on adorable Rosalina smocked clothing.

The precious Clemson and Carolina (or Auburn and Alabama for you out-of-staters) outfits have me dreaming of fall and tiny fans running all over Tigertown. Cannot wait!

Ignore the heat index and picture yourself at a tailgate with a cool drink and a long day of socializing ahead of you. Sounds heavenly, right?

Equally fabulous is a good deal.

Everything's half price! Have at it, y'all.

Side note: Melissa & Doug toys are also on sale at The Foundary. Through the magic of a store credit, Mac is now going to be the proud owner of some new wooden puzzles.

There are also some great magnets, kitchen toys, puppets and a lacing shoe for bigger kids ready to (sniffle!) let go of the Velcro.

We love Melissa & Doug. They feel so old-fashioned and classic! They're my favorite go to gifts for birthdays and Christmases because you can't go wrong. Take a peek.

I Am

2011-07-21T08:44:00.003-04:00

A friend of mine has put together a great blog series highlighting the positive in each of us, the very best gifts we have been given.

You know, the opposite of what we usually say about ourselves. The antithesis to the self-deprecating "humor" that comes a little too easily to most of us. (Or at least to me.)

It's so easy for me to tell you what I am not. Those words fly off of my tongue.

I'm not as organized as I used to be. I'm not as slim or fit or "done up" or prepared or "together" or creative or "on it" as I'd like.

I'm not the girl who whips up three-course meals six nights a week. I'm not the homemaker who folds her laundry when the buzzer goes off - or sometimes ever! I'm not the work-at-homer who dresses professionally every day or answers each call with a quiet, child-free background. I'm not the mom who runs a day's worth of errands, Mac in tow, without breaking a sweat.

I am, however, a lot of things.

I am a Christian.
I am a wife.
I am a mom. A ~~good~~ great mom. (I'm fighting the urge to yell, "Not perfect!")
I am a daughter, a sister, a niece and a granddaughter.
I am a friend.
I am a homemaker.
I am a (sometimes) coupon clipper, grocery shopper and meal planner.
I am a writer.
I am a PR professional.
I am an encourager.
I am an advice-giver.
I am a smiler.
I am a deal-finder.
I am a gift-buying dynamo. (Who wants to help with the wrapping?)
I am an expert thank you note writer.

I am a Clemson Tiger fan.

I am compassionate.
I am tender-hearted.
I am loyal.
I am smart.
I am funny.
I am committed.
I am resourceful.
I am true to my word.
I am eager to learn.
I am blessed beyond measure.
I am thankful beyond words.

Thanks to Whitney for inviting me to be a part of the "I Am" series! Take a moment to visit her blog and read the posts other bloggers are putting together for it. If the mood strikes, write a post yourself and link back to the Meade Feed to participate.

Extras

2011-07-20T14:24:00.005-04:00

1. I found a piece on why getting "older" rules that smacked me in the face after our discussion earlier. Not to say that a 29-year-old has the world's fullest understanding of aging, but it was a positive perspective that made me smile. I'll take it, especially since I've fully signed on to the belief that being cool isn't all it was cracked up to be circa sophomore year.

2. After my less than fantabulous week, I heard this on the radio; the lyrics message washed over me at just the right moment. No matter what your story is, I hope it does the same for you.

(What does it say about me that hearing someone sing "sweeping up lost Cheerios that got away" made me cry? Guess I really needed someone to speak directly to me in a "I feel you, crumb-covered, can't-do-anything-right sister" kinda way.)

3. I heard about a trend called planking a week or two ago. I thought I knew exactly what that was and wondered why on Earth people would post pictures of themselves doing their ab routine.

Credit

Evidently I was wrong - and so far behind that planking has now been replaced with owling. I'm not making this up.

I wish I knew what to say about these "trends," but WHY WHY WHY is all that comes to mind. I am a bit more traditional with my pastimes.

Credit

For people who are looking to replace owling as an early adopter of an even newer trend, may I suggest napping? It's something new I'm starting, where I post pictures online of myself sleeping in a variety of odd places. I'm taking suggestions and practicing in my bed just as soon as I get a chance to lie down.

School of Rap

2011-07-20T09:55:00.009-04:00

Did you know that I'm a rap-ologist? Truly, I am. For a really cool girl with an Arctic tan and a strong distaste for profanity, I know my way around some hip-hop. (Especially from the 2000s.)

I really should have been in the audience for Jimmy Fallon and Justin Timberlake's History of Rap Part Deux. (See here for part one.)

Just as funny and adorable as the original, with even more recognizable rap gems for our generation. All sanitized for TV, too! Just the way I like it.

Prepare to be schooled in a few classics, and enjoy the hip-thrusting Salt and Pepa imitation in particular. I laughed out loud throughout - hope it brings you as many Wednesday morning giggles.

You may have to pause the Mac video a few posts south of this one. Not sure why it starts up automatically - sorry! Another day or so and it should be on the next page, so you won't be greeted with "Mac, can you smile?!" any longer.

Side note: I'm serious about the rap-ology. I'll have to give you a peek at my treadmill tunes playlist sometime. Real fans might roll their eyes at the edited versions, but it's what gets me going in a calorie-burning way!

Nittiest of Nitpicks

2011-07-19T13:06:00.021-04:00

I'm no grammarian. I don't pretend to be flawless in my use of the English language. I don't pretend to be very cool either; for that I thank five years of Latin, five of French and a lifelong love of etymology. Homecoming Queen was never on my radar, but being named English Student of the Year made my life. (Most popular girl ever, as you can imagine.)

That said, I do have a few points about which I'm very nitpicky. When I see people misuse these phrases on Facebook or Twitter, I cringe. Luckily, the last few years have worked wonders in getting me over these issues - after all, who has time to worry about grammar when there are diapers to be changed?

Still, I thought I'd share a little bit of my crazy with y'all. Behold my least favorite English blunders. These seem to run rampant on blogs and social media. (I'm also standing by to be schooled in my own errors, so feel free to point them out in the comments...)

1. Contraction versus possession. Your and its are possessive. You're and it's are contractions. Apostrophes stand for missing letters; in this case they abbreviate "you are" and "it is." (Cue this lesson from a classic Ross and Rachel moment.)

I have seen two national publications in the last week use, in their social media outlets, the word who's instead of whose. "Who's mom is more fun?" is not correct by any stretch of the imagination. Journalists of all people should know that!

2. Sneak "peaks." I can understand how easily this happens; the two words certainly look nice next to one another when misspelled that way. But a peek doesn't become a peak just because the word in front of it is spelled with an "ea."

3. Loosing my mind. Your goal is not to "loose" weight; it's to lose it. And no matter how crazy your boss is making you or how long your child has been screaming, unless you can pop your head open, it's impossible to "loose" your mind. (This should be reassuring!)

4. Slow down, my dad works here. B is a civil engineer who has seen the side of an interstate in heavy traffic a million times more than I like to remember. I absolutely have a heart for the safety of roadside workers, but these signs jump out at me every time I see one.

A semi-colon is your friend, particularly when the second half of a sentence could stand on its own. "Slow down; my dad works here." Doesn't that look much better? No, just me? Oh well...

(Side note: Don't let the grammar distract you from the message. DO slow down! Feel free to grumble, but do it at 40mph. xoxox)

5. Who versus that. A wonderful sixth-grade teacher of mine hammered this rule into my head; now I can't help but wince when I hear people ignore it. A person is a who, not a that.

"Anyone that wants coffee should come get some now" sounds terrible to me. I like to pretend I respect people too much. "I am happy to serve anyone who is ready" sounds far better!

6. Addictive versus addicting. I can't explain this as well as Grammar Girl and, while I know both are technically acceptable, I am still deadset on using addictive. You'd be surprised how often the word addicting is thrown around, but maybe I just pick up on it more than normal. Few people are this nitpicky about words anyhow...

7. Stationery versus stationary. Something stationary stands still; stationery is the gorgeous paper we write on when channeling Emily Post. This slip-up is most egregious when stationery stores make it. Truly! You don't sell "stationary," I'm quite certain. If you misspell what you sell, I should get some kind of a discount - especially on the $20 a card kind.

8. Apostrophes for pluralization. You did not get a Christmas card from the "Smith's" or the "Holmes's." Pluralizing these names makes them the Smiths and the Holmeses, respectively. I wish stationers would remember this rule; selling an address stamp that reads "The Smith's" is shameful.

The same rule applies to regular ol' nouns. A "pack of dog's running" is an extremely confusing concept. Why add more characters when you can just plop on an "s" and make a word plural? Keep it simple.

And, as tempting as it is even to me, adding an apostrophe does not clarify anything when pluralizing abbreviations or decades. The 80s are the 80s, as odd as that might look, and an old college snapshot of mine would include a pack of "sorority squatting" Zetas or ZTAs, not Zeta's or ZTA's. No one is taking possession of anything, just making it plural. Make sense?

So there you have it, a few of the highest priority nitpickiest little nitpicks in my brain. I'm sure I make grammar errors left and right that other people pick up on, but we all have our "must get right" points; these are mine. Split infinitives, two spaces after a period, overuse of commas, excessive exclamation points - we all have our "thing."

Do you have any irksome phrases or pet peeve expressions? Let 'em rip!

Anne and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week

2011-07-15T12:29:00.005-04:00

Did you read that book as a child, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day? I couldn't recite a line from it, but I'll always remember its title. Sometimes there's just no other way to describe a day - or a series of days, for that matter.

This week has felt rainy in every possible way. Ten thousand things have gone wrong. Things I can't fix. Things in the lives of those I love, things in my life.

My laptop screen went totally black and I had deadlines to meet and no way to get what I needed done. I also looked uber professional explaining the predicament, and have never missed having an IT department on call so badly. Extra computers on demand and someone who doesn't lose their cool when PCs go berserk? Sign me up.

Mac is cutting molars, I've been under the weather, the house keeps dirtying itself (ha!), I forget to start dinner and Bradley hasn't been home to eat a single meal all week. I have felt lonely and cranky and frustrated and even a little bitter.

And yet.

God is so good. Our biggest troubles are temporary. Circumstances can be sad and frustrating and discouraging, but they're just circumstances. We just came back from a full week at the beach, y'all. How terrible could things be?

I have tried to refocus on my "get to" attitude. I get to fold this laundry and clean this counter and sort through bills. I get to see my husband when he finally crawls in bed after midnight. I get to change Mac's diapers and soothe his own bad moods and watch him become an even smarter, funnier (and at times, more frustrating!) boy. I get to miss Bradley when he's not here. I have a healthy family and my most pressing concern is how little time we get to spend together after a full week's vacation? What a blessing.

Some people run to get rid of their stress; my surefire cure for anything is a Diet Coke, a Tylenol, a nap and a cupcake - usually in that order. I've been cutting DCs for a few months now, though, and I have no time for sleeping. Perhaps a run by the bakery is in order? I think half a dozen cupcakes should fix any lingering terrible, horrible, no good, very bad feelings, don't you?

The bottom line: I am ready for this week to be over, but the more I type, the more I realize it really wasn't that bad. My best friend's little boy turned one. One couple had their second daughter yesterday and another announced they are expecting again. Mac learned to stand on one foot (with support) and squealed like he had invented the move.

In the face of families who are hurting, children who are sick, the many people we pray for each day who need peace and strength and miracles - this is nothing.

Could life be better if everything went according to my (undoubtedly flawless) plan? Yes. But I'm hanging in - and counting myself thankful for everything that's good.

Doesn't mean I'm going to pass up the cupcakes, though.

Old-ilocks?

2011-07-13T20:30:00.006-04:00

Lately I have been a little less than giddy about my upcoming birthday. I see 18-year-old celebrities enjoying private-island vacations for weeks on end, frolicking mindlessly in the ocean with nary a stitch of cellulite in sight. (Not that I have any either, mind you!) This is not my life, friends.

Because every publication under the sun seems to post a person's age behind their name, whether they are political figures or jobless socialites, it's easy for me to see who is "my age."

That whole concept is interesting. What is "my age" anyhow? Growing up I was typically the youngest in my class with a late summer birthday. I turned 18 just a few weeks before going to college. I considered people to be "my age" if they were in my graduating class.

At a previous job, filled with fabulous twenty-somethings, one girl asked another if a new hire was "our age" or not. "No," the second girl replied, "I think she's a grade or so behind us." They were each seven or eight years out of high school, but they took the (three month!) age difference between them and another PYT to be quite significant because it resulted in a whole school year's gap.

All that said, I look at pictures of folks on Facebook or in magazines and try to guess their ages before I know them. Do they look older than me? Younger? I'm terrible at it.

Reporters rave that the former "Waity Katie," a spinster in the making, now has the "glow of youth." Happy girls are the prettiest girls indeed!

Lately I find I have more in common with people who are in a similar place to me in life, regardless of their age. Whether there are similarities in job interests, spiritual lives or parental duties, those things seem to matter more now than how old a friend was when Titanic was released.

If Rory Gilmore were real, I don't doubt she'd have a Pulitzer in hand by now...

So these days, as I feel older my the minute and pluck the random curly gray hairs that are sprouting atop my head, I find myself taking comfort in the fact that "my age" includes Beyonce, Natalie Portman, Alexis Bledel (RIP Gilmore Girls), Jenna and Barbara Bush, Ivanka Trump and our very favorite Duchess, the former Kate Middleton - and her husband too, for that matter!

These girls have traveled the world to serve the underprivileged and founded successful non-profits. I was proud to get a few emails out today and keep Mac clean and fed!

And while she is "my" age, I'm going to avoid claiming Britney Spears 'til her hair is less skank-tastic. Sorry, Brit-Brit, but you have far too much money to sport such icky extensions.

(Disclaimer: Hopefully this will be the last self-indulgent, entirely superficial rant for a while. Worrying about your age is a first world problem and I'm surrounded by so many wonderful, loving people that I wouldn't go back to 21 if I could. Seriously. That said, it is amazing to me that there are famous people a full dozen years younger than me and newly graduated Ivy Leaguers have become best-selling authors at the ripe old age of 25. How is that possible? Puts my to do list in perspective. Prodigies!)

A Royal Change of Pace

2011-07-08T11:50:00.003-04:00

William and Catherine's conquest of the Western Hemisphere continued yesterday with a final day of Canadian adventures. We're used to seeing them glammed up for their daily "duties" in something like this:

Beautiful, elegant and far more suited up than I've ever been for a day of work.

Imagine my surprise when I saw Cowgirl Catherine and her prince sporting these ensembles yesterday:

Get it, girl!! Cowboy boots, designer bootcut jeans and Alice by Temperley shirt, a sizable belt buckle and a custom-made hat gifted to her by Canadian officials.

And Prince William, I daresay, has never looked cuter. I know a passel of Southern girls who are fanning themselves upon seeing royalty in gear most often sported by Nashville stars and genuine cowboys.

Evidently he wanted to try out his bucking bronco-wrangling skills but his wife put the kibosh on that instinct. (Read about it here.)

Can't say I blame her, but what a cute peek into the newlyweds' relationship. This well-dressed wisp of a girl certainly has the prince wrapped around her sapphire-and-diamond-encrusted finger. (And who can blame him?)

Back to their wardrobes: I can't imagine how much thought and effort was put into preparing each and every outfit for the Duchess in particular. It's not as though she can run unnoticed into Target and grab something quickly if a hem falls out of her intended skirt....

I was tickled by the change of pace in their wardrobe and can't wait to see what they have up their sleeves for the quick trip to LA that began this morning. Stay tuned!

(Photo credits to the Daily Mail.)

Crazy Little Ham

2011-07-07T22:47:00.002-04:00

We have a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, straight-up ham on our hands.

While he may look nothing like me, he has inherited (in addition to his ability to cheese on cue) an odd trick of mine from childhood: flipping his spoon over.

The trouble? He doesn't always wait 'til it's in his mouth to do so. Oh well - a little applesauce on the floor never hurt anyone!

B and I are still at the beach, after our respective meetings, but Mac is with his grandparents for 36 hours of parent-free fun.

In the twelve hours he has been gone, I have watched this video no less than a dozen times. Man, I love this little monkey.

The Cuteness in Canada Continues...

2011-07-05T17:15:00.003-04:00

(I could have thrown "Cambridge" in the title for a little more alliteration excitement, but I didn't want to go overboard. My obsession is intense enough.)

So close, Wills! Good thing playing hockey isn't your day job.

The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge

You know it's love when a prince holds your umbrella. Chivalry!

Waving to her new husband as he demonstrates his helicopter flying skillz.

Catherine loves Anne of Green Gables too! Shall we start a book club, Duchess?

A post-race squeeze for the newlyweds

Another post-event hug from the Duke and Duchess in denim.

(All photo credits to the Daily Mail.)

Ahhhh...

2011-07-04T09:25:00.000-04:00

No more pretending - we're here! Our first full week away from home in two years. B and I will both be working and having a few meetings while we're gone, but any day that starts and ends at the beach counts as a vacation day to me.

Last week was a whopper (do people under 80 say this), a perfect storm of sickness and whining and tears and stress. Most, but not all, from Mac - due to teething and a tummy bug. The rest was all mine - due to a ridiculous to do list, lots of packing, errands left undone and general mom anxiety. You know, the usual.

But it's here, it's finally here! Hope you are celebrating the 4th of July with the ones you love and enjoying a little relaxation yourself.

xoxoxo

Crazy for Catherine!

2011-07-01T14:48:00.006-04:00

Darling, they adore you!

After weeks of buzz, wardrobe suggestions and speculation, the royals have arrived!! Prince William and Duchess Catherine's long-awaited visit to North America is being widely covered, and from the looks of things our neighbors to the north are no less crazy about the royal newlyweds than we are.

I've had so many Kate-related blog posts (obsessed, yes!) rolling around in my head, but I've got sixty seconds to finally plop down and do one, so herein please find even more reasons to adore the former Kate Middleton.

1. She shops her closet.

Of course, it helps to have an itsy-bitsy figure and a pretty fabulous wardrobe to start with, but you've got to admire any gal in the public eye who restyles previous favorites and re-rocks them in front of the paparazzi's glare. Hats off to you, Kate.

Today in Canada Catherine sported the same white dress she wore for her official engagement portrait with William. Adding a red maple leaf hat, statement heels and a sparkly gem of a brooch from the Queen's collection, Kate reworked the look and even gave a nod to the country's celebration of Canada Day.

Yesterday, in one of her three outfit changes, Kate also wore a dress she has been photographed in twice before: once the day before her wedding and once five years ago (how's that for a flashback of your fashion life, Kate?) by paparazzi.

It says a lot about a girl when her choices from five years ago still suit the person she is, and the title she has been given, at such different time in her life. (Below in Canada and, at left, when she was still Will's "long-suffering" girlfriend. Who's laughing now, tabloids?)

If that wasn't enough, the fabulous slingback espadrilles she's wearing are also recycled. Nicely done, Kate!

Totally obsessed side note: It has been speculated by What Kate Wore that the pendant necklace Catherine is wearing above may be a charm bracelet her mother-in-law gave her (we'll get to that!) reworked as a necklace for the day. Clever!

2. She styles herself.

As the wife of the future King of England, I am sure she has room in the budget for a stylist - but she doesn't have one. Evidently Kate works with personal shoppers at her favorite stores and puts ensembles together herself.

Makes her taste all the more impressive! Can I steal this adorable wicker clutch - already sold out online - for the summer?

3. She supports local designers.

After a seven and a half hour flight from London to Ottawa, Duchess Catherine strolled off the airplane wearing an entirely different outfit than when she boarded. And this classic navy lace overlay number is the work of a Canadian designer. As if the locals weren't Kate crazy enough already...

4. She wears monogrammed jewelry - from her mother-in-law!

I notice Catherine's prettily engraved bracelet in a snapshot of her last week and thought, "How nice to wear something with a crown on it when you actually own a crown!"

When I realized the bracelet was a gift from Camilla, Prince Charles's wife, and it had a differently-engraved "C" on each side to represent both women, I was even more touched.

I'll be Team Diana forever, but a girl who loves her mother-in-law and sports monogrammed jewelry would fit in remarkably well around these here parts. We'll make a Southerner out of the Duchess yet!

5. She carries polka-dotted, affordable luggage.

In the picture below, you'll see Kate's polka-dotted overnight bag. While I'm sure she has trunks upon trunks of her wardrobe traveling with her, I love that she carries a non-Louis Vuitton (hear that, Hollywood elites?) canvas British bag.
And if it were still in stock, believe me, I'd have snatched it up by now. I've never met a navy polka-dotted anything I didn't like...

Wonder if she'd monogram that? (And what would it be cWm? cWe? Or just "I'm a Duchess, don't worry about my monogram?!")

Okay, that's enough Catherine-related gushing for one day. We're about to enter a long holiday weekend of patriotism. Soak it up, friends!

xoxo

This is What Love Looks Like

2011-06-29T10:03:00.005-04:00

Love looks like unwashed hair and a face that hasn't seen concealer in days.

It looks like checking the monitor ten times an hour and cringing at every mid-dream whimper, knowing just how awful a stomach bug feels. (And only imagining how bad it is without the vocabulary to tell someone.)

It looks like wincing as your child pats his tummy and says, "Hurts, Mama. Hurts."

It looks like piling three sleep-deprived people into the guest bed, the smallest in the house, because your child's stomach bug has rendered every other bed and sheet under your roof unusable.

It looks like sheer exhaustion.

(It smells like a less-than-delightful combo of Lysol, Febreze, carpet cleaner, Pedialyte, ginger ale and Saltines, but I digress...)

It looks like a grandmother who drops everything and drives up to be a relief pitcher.

It looks like a dusty, ignored to do list but a squeaky clean, sanitary house. The only thing worse than being sick is being sick in a dirty bathroom.

It sounds like a million late evening and weekend calls (never during business hours, huh, Mac?) to the pediatrician.

It hurts like the sound of a sick baby begging for food after being offered, time and again, only "sips" of "clear fluids."

It looks like watching the same two-minute segment of Sesame Street over and over and over again because it coaxes a semi-smile out of a sick toddler.

It looks like letting the whole world see you ugly, tired and unwashed just because you love the sentiment behind the photo so much.

It looks like letting all of your own needs and priorities (and stomach-bug-sidelined Jack Rogers sandals and worse-for-wear couch cushions) fall to the wayside.

It looks like searching the internet for tips on how to clean said sandals and sofa cushions.

It looks like a mom who is endlessly grateful for a slight improvement and an even 50/50 ratio of whining to talking. (Vast improvement!)

Mac is doing much, much better and I am thankful beyond words for the help of his dad and grandparents in scraping through a tough five days.

I've learned lately that, while he looks nothing like me, Mac has my fearsome need for food and unparalleled crankiness when he's forced to go hungry. He might have perfected the art of whining from me, too, but I think some of that comes with the "how to be an awesome toddler" manual.

Now I'm off to catch up on some long-neglected work projects...

Kate Spade must be a Clemson fan!

2011-06-23T13:29:00.003-04:00

Why else would she inject her playful sense of style into so many Tiger-friendly pieces? And put them on sale, to boot!

I am practicing self-control (hear that, B?) and not clicking "Buy," but that doesn't mean you should do the same. Tailgate season is just around the corner - 72 days, if you're counting - and, in case you haven't heard, orange and tiger stripes are always in fashion.

Fan Court Stevie bag

Striped Gwen tunic

Striped Kay top
Worn with orange accessories, obviously.
This pattern is also available in a dress, an adorable jacket and several bags!
Mott Street Riley bag

In the runner up category, Kate has several sweet coral (not quite Clemson but totally acceptable on a hot game day) pieces on sale. I particularly love the Terrazzo Audrey dress, Terrazzo Sandra skirt and Villa Pineapple top. Happy shopping!

Side note: I couldn't help but notice how much the model above looks like Bryce Dallas Howard. Then I remembered the actress is the star of Kate Spade's first celebrity campaign. I guess they're doing a bit of typecasting in their product photos? Gorgeous, no matter who she is! My mom is a redhead, so I've always been a teensy bit partial - and I love to see redheads rocking orange.

Wordless Wednesday: Booster Seat Joy!

2011-06-22T08:44:00.000-04:00

Menu Monday: B-A-N-A-N-A...you know the rest.

2011-06-20T14:32:00.005-04:00

This week is bananas. And not in a cute, Gwen-Stefani-chanting-in-a-top-40-hit kind of way. In a "real life" kind of way.

Quick digression that comes from that "real life" thought: I read this morning that you should dress as though you're bound to see your worst enemy. While I hope none of us have enemies, middle school girls and Real Housewives aside, I can see that point. Isn't it always the 30 second run to the store that finds you catching up with people you haven't seen in ages?

That said, I've found the perfect way to describe how I look lately. In Style magazine wants me to dress for my worst enemy, but my comfort/crazy hair/"glistening" gal on the go look has me more hopeful that I'm running into my best friend. You know, the one who lets you look half-hobo, half-flu-patient and still loves you?

Okay, so I've said that. Excuse the stream of consciousness, but it's all I can do today to get my fingers to work, so here we go...

Where were we? Ah yes - menu Monday. I have one! Let's see:

Monday: Crockpot barbeque chicken sandwiches, pasta salad and fresh fruit. (This is a meal I've made for a new mom friend who is off of dairy for a while. I just doubled everything!)

Tuesday: Spaghetti and salads. (Read: Out-of-town meeting and Mac's first morning with a babysitter. I'd rather fill my afternoon with mom/son catch-up than slaving stove-side.)

Wednesday: Breakfast! Grits, eggs, biscuits and turkey bacon.

Thursday: Baked lemon pepper chicken, steamed green beans and oven-roasted potatoes.

Friday: Leftovers! So thankful B loves these, as I'll be in Columbia to see some dear friends in a play. You free? Come on by!

Saturday: Hoping for a shrimp boil with friends! Two of our sweetest friends absolutely saved our lives yesterday - and possibly Blue's. Story to come! In the meantime, I'm salivating over the scent of Old Bay already.

Hope you have a wonderful, less B-A-N-A-N-A-S kind of week. xoxo

I'm Sorry!

2011-06-07T17:37:00.004-04:00

I'm here.

I've been sweaty and frustrated and, for one glorious night, staying in a swanky hotel room. (A week without air conditioning in a heat wave? Misery.)

I've been celebrating the arrival of our dear friends' baby girl after months of prayers and pink-or-blue guessing.

I've been recovering from strep throat, then sharing it with Bradley and getting sick again.

I've been visiting with Mac's grandparents and trying, but not quite succeeding, to catch up on work.

I've been furnishing our new home. (This is really coming along!)

I've been planning and dreaming of a beach vacation.

I've been letting my hair air dry and praying good bangs make up for a headful of mess.

I've been waiting to become an aunt TOMORROW when my sister-in-law Laura is due to deliver our niece or nephew-to-be.

I've been reading the Daily Mail each morning and recovering from Royal Wedding withdrawal.

I've been "fat flushing" and eating clean - but also eating poorly. And skipping the gym.

I've been totally addicted to Karmin.

I've been hanging out with my super-cute, far-too-busy husband.

I've been kissing Mac like mad and having real, honest-to-goodness conversations with my son. Heavenly.

I've been wondering how we accumulate so much laundry.

I've been enjoying every moment with "Bac Smees" so far this summer. (See below.)

I, like my little monkey, have been trying to stay cool and hydrated. I don't usually applaud myself for it, though. Maybe I should?

I've been thinking about blogging and most of all about YOU.

A little peek at my life and more updates tomorrow? Forgive me?

xoxox,
A.

Coming to a Big Screen Near You...

2011-05-18T13:32:00.004-04:00

...a remarkably elaborate proposal. I have no idea who this young suitor is, but I'm tipping my hat to him. This took no small amount of preparation, forethought, discretion and boldness.

The team behind this should use it as a viral resume of sorts - watch out, rural Georgia, you have a future Steven Spielberg on your hands.

I wonder how the happy couple will announce their first little one's arrival? That preview could go either way. But this one? Perfectly sweet and flawlessly executed.

I also wonder why the proposals of strangers make me tear up? Regardless - enjoy!

Why is my Champagne Hand EMPTY?

2011-04-28T12:51:00.007-04:00

I love the princess-to-be. The hair, the style, the do-it-yourself engagement portrait makeup. (Seriously, extra double cool points for that.)

I also adore this site and its good-humored mocking of her fairy tale life.

If you aren't reading Kate Middleton for the Win, you must.

Prepare for image overload; it's impossible for me to pick a favorite!

Wordless Wednesday: Front Seat Rider

2011-04-20T08:49:00.000-04:00

Breaking In The New Digs

2011-04-19T15:30:00.002-04:00

For me, settling into our new home has been a process.

Bradley and my parents did a phenomenal job of setting things up while I was out of town that first weekend, but there are still touches I'd like to add.

I'm picking out paint colors, lamps, rugs and curtains, arranging and rearranging furniture, unpacking boxes and dreaming about throwing away whatever hasn't already been opened up and put away. (One could make an argument that we must not need it if we've lived ten days without it...)

For Mac, settling in has been far easier. Who needs knobs or fixtures or rugs or even his prints hung on the wall?

Give him his books, his toys, his "throw myself on the floor and roll around" pillows and just like that - he's scattering them everywhere. Mac is happy as a clam and home sweet home.

What a resilient little guy! I love that about him. Well, that and his fantastically squishy thighs.

Open Mouth, Insert Embarrassment

2011-04-18T23:15:00.008-04:00

Who, me?
Clutching my lemonade nervously and acting as though I don't see the camera?
Why no, I never behave awkwardly. Why ever would you ask?

I make a fool out of myself so often that, when asked (why does this subject come up so often in my presence?) I can never pick out just one.

I just read a story that kick-started a super-awkward college memory, though. From here on out, I may have a pat answer to that "what's your most embarrassing moment?" question.

In college, everyone of the male persuasion had a nickname of sorts. Whether it derived from a major (Beaker), a memorable feature (diminuitive Doug became D. Low), a hometown (Rock Thrill), or no apparent reason at all (Scuba?), the names stuck.

I was never more grateful to be a girl; the only nicknames given were "sweet pea," "love," or, for the very lucky, "rush crush."

Coming to college, guys must know that nicknames are part of the deal. Some were laughable, others un-repeatable, but everyone just seemed to go along with whatever nonsensical moniker got tossed their way.

My junior year, I became friends with a particularly sweet fraternity pledge nicknamed "Baby," presumably for his just-out-of-high-school face. Precious, right? And hardly cringe-worthy.

As I am wont to do, I chatted up Baby at a variety of events. Pledges seemed to get the short end of the stick, so I felt compelled to be as nice to him as possible. (And since I was technically taken, I knew it wouldn't be perceived the wrong way.)

After a month or two, Baby's hometown girlfriend came to visit for a tailgate; I couldn't have been more excited. She needed to know how well-liked her boyfriend was and how often (and sweetly) he spoke of her.

"Baby," I exclaimed upon meeting her, "she is even cuter than you described! What a -"

Halfway through my estrogen-induced squeal, she stopped me coldly. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

I repeated myself, but evidently it wasn't the statement that bothered her - it was the nickname.

Turns out I was the only one calling said pledge "Baby." The rest of the gang was calling him, with little fanfare, by his last name: Beatty.

I can't blame the girl for being a little miffed, upon driving several hours to visit her long-distance boyfriend, at hearing some older gal call her boyfriend "baby" so brazenly.

I can, however, blame the handful of snickering guys around him who knew I'd been calling him "Baby" and just enjoyed watching him blush, too shy to correct me.

Lesson learned: Double check nicknames before you repeat them or, better yet, leave them to the boys entirely....

We're Here!!

2011-04-15T22:34:00.003-04:00

We're here, we're here! I promise the Smith family is alive and well - and most importantly, we're here:

I can't wait to tell you all about our new old house, what we love about it, the changes we've started to make it our own and the fun I had just hours after the closing when I hit the road to host my best friend's baby shower in Charlotte. Whew - what a week!

So much fun, so many boxes, so little time!

In the meantime, I hope you're all doing wonderfully!! xoxox

Rent the Runway Coupon Code!

2011-03-28T22:05:00.005-04:00

I got a lot of emails and tweets when I blogged about Rent the Runway the other day, so I am thrilled to share a 24 hour coupon code I found!

Until midnight tomorrow, Tuesday the 29th, get 25% off any RTR rental when you use the code "FBTHANKS" at checkout.

That makes a lot of their dresses under $40! I was giddy to make my first rental and get such a great deal.

If you haven't joined, head on over and take a peek. Click here to sign up!

Mr. Smarty Pants

2011-03-24T12:02:00.000-04:00

Mac is nothing if not a ham. He does and says the flat out silliest things, especially at the end of the day when he's worn out from a busy schedule of toddler antics.

The moment I pull out a camera, though - bam! - all he wants to do is see the baby onscreen. I must have hundreds of shots of him pointing at the camera, mouth poised in a long, dragged out "bay-beeeeee" sound.

Not this time, though. I got him just tired enough to show off a few of his party tricks last night.

Enjoy a quick sampling of Mac's singing skills, as well as him showing off a few favorite features: tummy, head, eyes, ears, nose, mouth and, in an apparent attempt to gag himself for a laugh, tongue.

I particularly loved the moment when he mixes up "cheek" and "cheese." This little chunk has always got snacks on the brain.

Given his attire, this should probably be called "Mr. Smarty No Pants." But it was hot tonight and Mac is a messy eater to boot.

Who am I kidding? Any excuse to show off that fab physique. Flaunt it if you've got it, right?

Mac's Mullet Gets a Trim

2011-03-22T20:55:00.006-04:00

Last weekend, Bradley and I finally took Mac-Mac to get his very first haircut. We'd heard great things about a place that specializes in children's hair and offers parents baby's first cut for just a penny.

After months of hemming and hawing, we finally decided to go for it and get our wild man's toddler coiff under control.

So we got Mac all buckled in and headed out for a long overdue trim.

His hair didn't look unkempt from certain angles...

...but if you caught sight of it just right, he was definitely sporting a mullet.

He played with a few toys while we waited, taking in the "big kids" sitting nearby.

When it was his turn, Mac came armed with two blankies and a bowl of Cheerios, his very favorite sources of comfort.

I wish I could find words to express just how unfathomably well behaved he was, but looking at the unwrangle-able, full steam ahead, squirmy little toddler who lives in our home, I am befuddled by his composure. (But so, so thankful!)

He sat perfectly still!

He people-watched as other families came and went.

There truly was a lot for the boy to take in.

After saving a few locks for his baby book, we were thrilled with the finished product. Here's our suddenly big boy and his mom, who noticed her own scraggly 'do after seeing this photo and got a little chop of her own!

The World's Best (And Most Borrowable) Closet

2011-03-21T23:15:00.000-04:00

Lately I have found my wardrobe to be woefully lacking in the cuteness department.

I just returned from a bachelorette party yesterday, utterly convinced that I own no single garment cute enough to go "out" in. (And by "out" I don't mean a 20 minute Target run.)

I have work clothes (yay for "big girl" shoes!), life and church clothes (casual church = playing on the floor with our Sunday School class in jeans or skirts). I have no "cute" clothes.

My extensive wedding-going wardrobe fits oddly post-Mac, gapping in places things shouldn't and looking about as old as I am. What's a girl to do?

In this season of life, without three roommates just down the hall, eager to share the contents of their overfilled closets, it's much more difficult to pilfer adorable clutches and find a last-minute cocktail dress when you need one. Thankfully, I believe I've found the answer: rent something!

Much like guys rented tuxes for prom, Rent the Runway, something I heard about last year but have yet to use, lets a girl order up just the dress she'd like to wear for any occasion.

Oh how I wish this genius, Netflix-for-clothes concept had been around in college. Every casino night, cocktail party and formal would have featured designer dresses shipped right to my dorm. (And no wasting hundreds of dollars on dresses I couldn't wear more than once!)

The bottom line: Order a dress, select a "back-up size," choose the date you'll need it and rent away! Return shipping is free, too.

They even offer accessories for your big occasion as well. Dresses are cleaned and overnighted to the next customer when your festivities are over. I'm not sure who invented Rent the Runway, but those gals are brilliant! (If necessity is the mother of invention, the creators probably had a black-tie gala to go to and were longing for the many closest they had to pick from their freshmen year, too.)

Now I just need a few fancy occasions to make my renting dreams come true. I'm planning my outfit now for a Charleston wedding the night before Easter. Top contenders:

Milly Summer Sun Dress

Milly Southern Sun Dress

Milly Sail Away Dress

Lilly Pulitzer Citrus Candy Cane Dress
(Listed on the LP site as Nadia)
Lilly Pulitzer Lemon Sorbet Dress
(Listed on the LP site as Eryn)

Shoshanna Vicious Venom Dress

Rebecca Taylor Berry Surprise Dress

Do you have a favorite? And have you ever used RTR before, or a similar site? Let me know if you sign up and rent anything - I'd love to hear how it goes!

(And if you see me at that wedding Easter weekend, feel free to ask where I got my dress. I won't mind spilling!)

Collectible Kate

2011-03-16T16:10:00.004-04:00

It's been years, but I still haven't recovered from the retiring of American Girls' Victorian beauty Samantha. I take heart, though, in knowing that another charmingly upper crust brunette doll is on the horizon: the Kate Middleton/Princess Catherine doll!

So far - and we're pretty early on in the scheme of things - we have two top contenders.

First, the cutesy and oddly accurate Franklin Mint version of Will's girl.

Is it creepy? Sure. Isn't any doll of a relatively normal 20-something girl kind of eerie?

Is it a fair likeness? Certainly. As far as dolls go, this is as flattering a likeness as they come. They got the bouncy hair and fab figure, that's for sure.

Is it expensive? Bien sûr. But if you're a rabid enough royal fan to get this far in the process, you probably won't blink at the nearly $200 price tag.

Now on to our second and, in my opinion, slightly ickier Kate doll option:

For the bargain price of $160, you can receive a wedding day Princess Catherine doll complete with a bouquet, tiara and gown identical to those she wears down the aisle on April 29. I guess this means you'll have to wait a little longer to get your princess doll fix, but that's the price you pay for stalker-like accuracy to detail!

While we're on the topic of Wills and Kate collectibles, can we talk about how unflattering the official royal mint coin of the couple is? Sure, Will looks passable, but Kate's profile does the real life beauty no favors.

Good thing the girl's too gorgeous to care. And if she does care, I'm sure a glance at her future digs, left hand and adoring fiancé will fix her right up.

So, ladies, who will be stocking up on Princess Kate goodies?

And how funny would it be if one day a thoroughly modern princess-to-be decided to turn down the title and instead go by Kate Middleton-Windsor? (William was enrolled in preschool as William Windsor, after his royal house's name. Not a bad surname, but who'd turn down the Royal Highness gig?)

So, Do You Want More Kids?

2011-03-15T17:53:00.004-04:00

Subtitle: Reason #4385 to love Tina Fey.

Tina, who graces the cover of this month's InStyle, had the most clever response I've heard yet to an age old question: Do you want more children? (There's usually a "when" in there somewhere, too.)

Her response, and I can just picture her saying this with a straight face, was: "If you're asking me to do that with you, I cannot." So clever!

Because, truly, what is the appropriate answer when a complete stranger, in this case one with every intention of publishing your response word for word for the consumption of millions, asks you such a personal thing?

Don't get me wrong; I don't think it's inappropriate to talk about your family or your plans. Friends, sisters, playgroup pals - this conversation can come up on its own with many people.

Fellow grocery shoppers, moms waiting with you in the pediatrician's office, receptionists at your place of business - these are the folks who tend to be the most curious and shamelessly direct.

Asking away in your little corner of the world may be kosher, but prying into the the private matters of a stranger? Not the best way to make friends.

You never know what struggles someone has with this issue, how they really feel, what they want and what they may or may not envision coming next for their family. And the truth is, you don't need to. But somehow, the topic tends to be brought up by the people who least need to know such personal details. (And I don't just mean reporters.)

Shortly after B proposed, a colleague's wife asked when we wanted to have children. (My answer: "Probably after we're married?") She followed this up by asking a friend sitting next to me, at that time quite pregnant with her first, when she wanted to have a second. Head-spinning.

Post-baby, I first heard this question when Mac was less than a month old. My timeline for having another baby was quite fuzzy, to say the least, considering my timeline for getting through the day changed moment by moment.

Hats off to Ms. Fey for putting a punchline to an answer many of us struggle with when asked. Truth be told, I'm happy to say, "We hope Mac will be a big brother one day." When pressed for further details, though, I'm glad to have a witty and disarming comeback in my back pocket.

So, friends, what do you say when people (or reporters, if you're one of the many famous folks who read this blog) ask intrusive, if well-meaning, questions?

British Babbles

2011-03-10T17:03:00.004-05:00

Maybe it's the gray, rainy weather today, but I have Britain on the brain.

Bradley and I sat down last Saturday to "try out" the Downton Abbey series I'd heard raves about; twenty-four hours later we'd finished the first season! Whew.

It's a PBS Masterpiece Theatre production, which usually guarantees I'll like it (read: period pieces with romantic storylines), but this piece took the cake. The setting, the acting, the questions that arise about the class system and what is "proper" - I loved it all.

Mostly I felt pseudo-intellectual being drawn into something produced by PBS, the purveyor of all things educational and deep. In truth, though, this series is more a gorgeous, Titanic-era soap opera with a hint of sociological introspection.

No need to be ashamed to watch it, but you probably won't get your Ph.D. while you do it either. Read more about it here.

As for the quick conclusion, so many details are left unresolved that I am itching for the next season, which probably won't come to America 'til later this year or even early 2012.

By then, Miss Kate Middleton will have become Princess Catherine. (Like my segway?) Her title may change, but I'm guessing her remarkable sense of style will not. Can we discuss her fabulous rainy-day philanthropy get up? Love.

I'm with the Fug Girls - can I borrow this coat when they're done, Kates? And then your stylist? Perhaps you should just take to YouTube for that hair and makeup tutorial everyone's dying to see. Talk about making a difference in the world - that would do it! (Kidding. Kind of.)

And now for a few pick-me-up pictures from our favorite imports: Boden, the only company who regularly uses "smashing," "spot on," and "swishy" in their descriptions. In other words, they totally speak my language.

Who wants to put together this fluffy, swirly little English ensemble? Perfect for a garden wedding and high tea!

Mallow Jewelled Button Cardigan

Boden Uplifting Dress

Boden Petal Clutch

Hi, Hi, I'm Here!!

2011-03-02T08:29:00.003-05:00

*I'm still here! Things are a little bananas (aren't they always? who has a tiny to do list these days?) and the last two weeks have just flown by...

*Breaking news: Before I discuss anything else, can I tell you that Mac learned to say "Mama" at last?! He uses between 30 and 35 words now, so it's about time. But it sounds like absolute heaven! I can even ignore the fact that he only uses it when he's unhappy or I've done something wrong. Who cares? He knows I'm his mom at last!

*Mac came down with a not-so-delightful stomach bug last week, rallied for a few days and then surprised us with a relapse Saturday morning so intense that we were at the pediatrician's office in ten seconds flat. Ick. And poor baby!

*Bradley and I came down with the insanely powerful stomach bug Monday night, spending most of Tuesday horizontal and woozy. If nothing else, those 24 hours gave me tremendous sympathy for pregnant gals suffering through morning sickness. God bless you! No fun at all.

*Added to the stomach bug, we have spent the last ten days in a real estate haze. We have finally sold our house (yay!) and have a contract on another across town. Both are set to close on April 1st. Whew! Would you pray with us that everything continues to go smoothly?

*Can I tell you how grateful I am that we didn't catch this stomach bug the night before our closing? Timing is everything - and I'll be covering this house in Lysol to make sure we stay well 'til then.

*Work has picked up exponentially for me, so I am juggling mom and work duties, adding a great deal to my to do list and constantly feeling like I've forgotten to do something. And it's a safe bet I have.

*My sweet parents and wonderful in-laws have stepped up to help out in the coming weeks, spending more time with Mac and looking out for us in general. These are the days we wished they all lived right down the street.

Here are my parents, Mimi and Grandpa, with their sick (but grinning!) grandson last Saturday. Their first fun activity of the weekend was riding to the pediatrician with us. Fun times! So thankful for two sets of parents who love and support us.

*I have lots and lots coming up but promise to stay in better touch, if only because I miss chatting with everyone. Hope you're all well and enjoying an early spring! Just to be safe, you may want to use hand sanitizer after reading this post. Seems that anything we come into contact with (including grandparents - sorry, guys!) has a need for Gatorade, ginger ale and crackers before long. Stomach bug be gone!

xoxo,
A.

Whistlin' Wednesday

2011-02-16T13:05:00.002-05:00

B hasn't been home for supper lately, a time when Mac is typically doubled over laughing at his dad's hilarious antics. (Or sometimes, just his presence. B's a funny guy that way.)

After a few no-Daddy suppers, Mac has had to take entertainment matters into his own hands - turns out Mom is boring as all get out. Last night Mac perused a book and whistled a little tune throughout his evening meal.

I suppose I could be insulted, but I'm too impressed at his whistling skills. I didn't master whistling at one year old! (You should hear the kid "sing" too, by the way. That's another video for another day...)

Celebrity Chit Chat

2011-02-14T16:08:00.004-05:00

Fact: Selma Blair looks fabulous pregnant. On the Grammys' red carpet, she wore a totally appropriate (age-, event- and pregnancy-wise) dress that looks comfy and flattering. Kudos to her!

Bonus fact: You know how people say everyone has a doppelganger? When you're as dark-haired and pale as I am, you hear a lot of the same names: Anne Hathaway (wouldn't that be fab!), Sandra Bullock (I'll take that) and "you know, that stupid girl from Cruel Intentions."

In other words, Selma Blair. Evidently we favored each other circa 1999, at the first bit of Selma's mainstream fame, but she wasn't a household name quite yet. Hence the "stupid girl" comment I'd get quite often after CI was released. My high school self didn't find the "stupid" part the least bit flattering. These days I'd welcome the comparison!

Fact: Gwyneth Paltrow is aging backwards.

I've been a Gwyneth fan since the 90s, when her appearances in Emma and Shakespeare in Love were at once adorable and enviable. I loved hearing her sing in Duets ten years ago especially. After taking a mommy break a few years back, she's all over the place these days: Glee, Country Strong, her insanely uppity but somehow readable Goop.*

See for yourself:

1990s Gwyneth: Ignore the arm candy and their matching pixie cuts.

Gwyneth now

The woman seems only to get more talented and more gorgeous every decade. Could it be her rarified air/macrobiotic/militaristic diet way of living? If so, sign me up. (But let me visit Chick-fil-A first!)

If you're up for a laugh, pore over Gwynnie's hairstyles from the last decade or two and enjoy the author's commentary. My favorite line: "Gwyneth wore her hair super straight...all while simultaneously contracting her abdomen muscles and silently judging you."

*I call Goop uppity because Gwyneth uses it as a vehicle to proclaim that any mom can and should lose the baby weight. While I love it we can squeeze into our pre-pregnancy clothes, I think it's a little easier for a woman with a nanny, chef and trainer to preach that message. I still heart Gwyneth, but I might not if I had four kids and no time to work out.

Happy Love Day

2011-02-14T13:30:00.002-05:00

My favorite line from Pride & Prejudice. I really must have this frame!

B and I have never been particularly crazy about Valentine's Day. While we usually exchange cards and little gifts, I don't expect him to bowl me over with the power of his all-consuming love every February 14th. I prefer knowing much he loves me every other day of the year.

This year, more than ever, we are not going to be hearts-y people. Our schedules are plain bananas. My work life has picked up, B has a particularly busy (read: 7am to 9pm) week and Mac is just as full-steam-ahead as ever.

We'll be (separately) in and out of town and, the part I like least, won't be able to have a meal together 'til lunch on Sunday. Sad!

With that in mind, I've been wistfully thinking of Valentine's Days past and remembering the progression of B from just "Bradley" to a friend to the man he is today, my unbelievable husband and Mac's look-alike dad.

Who knew snarky e-cards quoted Jane Austen?

Seven years ago today, B and I went on a Valentine's night double date with (wait for it...) other people. I had actually set him up early that year with a sweet friend of mine and we two couples ended up sharing dinner.

Technically I suppose Bradley and I spent Valentine's Day together that year, but not in the way we would in years to come. (How we got there is a story I'll have to tell some other time...and it's a good one.)

For now I'm wishing all of you a lovely and love-filled Valentine's Day! May you know how much you're loved today and always.

I've been humming this all day, and it seems an appropriate thought on a day set aside to celebrate love:

How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all! Are you showing me up and celebrating it big?

Can I Borrow Your Moves?

2011-02-09T15:10:00.004-05:00

Would it be extra creepy for me to ask this Chinese preschooler for some hip-hop tutoring?

How sad is it that I envy the moves of a three-year-old?

Seriously - wow.

I can't decide if I want to give him a standing ovation or just a big hug. (I know, I know, that would probably be creepy, too.)

As much applause as Mac gets for walking across a room, standing, squatting and throwing a ball these days, we'd knock him over if he mimicked some of this choreography. Go, little guy, go!

A Selfish, Stolen Snuggle

2011-02-07T13:59:00.004-05:00

A year ago this month, Mac woke during the night for the very last time. What a gift! Since last February he has slept like a champ.

I knew it would feel good to have a baby who sleeps through the night. What I didn't know, though, was how bittersweet it would be.

Along with the middle of the night feedings came snuggles, silent conversations, quiet coos and a tiny, perfect head nestled into my neck. Because he sleeps 12 hours a night, Mac crams as much activity as he can into his waking hours - leaving little (read: no) time for snuggling or even a quick hug.

Sunday night I caught a glimpse of Mac on his monitor; he was positioned awkwardly, with his chin resting on the mattress. I feared he'd wake up with a crick in his neck and decided to adjust him before I hit the hay.

I tiptoed into the nursery, tilted Mac's head to the side and, before I knew what had happened, was lifting him out of his crib, scooping him into a hug and letting his precious, heavy head fall onto my chest. It was heaven.

Macky smelled like baby shampoo and clean laundry and felt warm, snuggly and absolutely delicious in my arms. I couldn't bring myself to put him down, so I rocked him in his glider, so rarely used these days as anything besides a trampoline for our wild man as he exclaims "chee! chee!" - his version of "chair."

In Mac's world, chairs are a base camp for rocket launches and toddler leaps. In mine, they're the perfect spot for rocking sleepy babies.

Mac has never wanted to be rocked. His bedtime routine from day one was simple: feed him, change him, put him down. If he's tired, he wants simply to sleep - right away. I know what a blessing that is, but occasionally I feel shortchanged. If I can't rock Mac now, when can I?

I won't lie (and this won't shock you): I cried holding Mac that night. I thought of all the times I woke, bleary-eyed, to feed him and wondered when I'd get my nights back. Now that I have them, I'd give anything to feel the weight (considerably more now than a year ago) of my son curled up on my chest.

We rocked for ages and I prayed over every part of him, thanking God for the gift of being his mom. It saddened me to think this could be the last time I'd hold him in the middle of the night, the last time I'd really get to snuggle with my busy boy.

Sneaking into a nursery seems slightly less creepy than waking a kindergartner in the night for a hug, but it's still not something I can do forever. Mac is a heavy sleeper, so I knew he would keep dreaming in his crib or my arms. It was worth the chance either way.

When I came back downstairs, B called me a baby-stealer; he had looked at the monitor and seen an empty crib. When he asked what I'd been doing, I could barely find my voice to tell him. It felt so good snuggling with Mac on Sunday night that I might have done it again last night.

When Mac wakes in the morning, he does so full-force, ready to start the day. I barely catch a second of his cheek pressed against mine when I get him up, already wriggling to get down and play.

That's ok, though. If only for the last two nights, I've gotten my fill of snuggly, sweet baby time. He may not have any memories of it, but I always will.

Yes, Please!

2011-02-04T13:17:00.004-05:00

Right now I'd love to be relaxing poolside, somewhere warm and so sunny that shades are necessary at all times. Similarly, I'd love to be wealthy enough to buy a houseful of colorful summer frocks - if just to force spring to go ahead and get here.

So instead, I'll daydream. I'm not even sure I'd wear all of this, but it's such a gray, rainy Friday that these bright pieces are tempting beyond belief.

Trina Turk

Boden

Shoshanna

Tibi

Shoshanna

Lilly Pulitzer

Kate Spade

Shoshanna

Lilly Pulitzer

Tory Burch

Lilly Pulitzer

Trina Turk

Boden