I think I’m on to something big, y’all. HUGE. I’m only about 7 years behind the rest of the world, but I had my first Uber ride last month in Washington D.C. Brian had some work there, and my parents offered to take all three kids so we could have some time alone.
Six days. In a big city. Just the two of us. So, you can imagine what happened as soon as we got to the hotel…
We took a 4 hour nap.
Not even kidding. It was the best sleep of my life.
Oh…wait. Did y’all think I was talking about…?
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand there goes my dad.
I’m sitting here in bed for the fourth consecutive day trying to remember what it feels like to not be so sick.
[Kicking off 2016 with whining. Fantastic.]
I’m typing this in a program called Evernote that is a great tool to organize my posts—you know, all the hundreds of them that I don’t get around to posting because I’m juggling a million things like cooking, cleaning, laundry, and homeschooling two kids while trying to keep the baby from gnawing a hole in my computer cord and GET OFF MY BACK ALREADY!
Totally kidding. Y’all are fun. I wish I had more time to tell you all our crazy antics here. But it seems like I only have time to squeeze in the moments that include vomit.
Today is no exception.
I know I need to update y’all on our recent trip to Disney World, but this post basically wrote itself, and I couldn’t wait to tell you.
Disclaimer: You may want to put down that breakfast burrito before you dive into this post. As a matter of fact, you will probably want to avoid any type of burrito for a week or two after you read this. And if reading the word vomit makes you want to do so, you will probably want to stop reading right about…
I’ve never seen the show Grey’s Anatomy. I know. But are y’all really surprised? We haven’t had cable for the better part of a decade, and even if we did I would probably only watch Back to the Future or Everybody Loves Raymond like I do now. Anyway, I’ve never seen the show, but I have heard of McDreamy. I personally don’t find him dreamy, but that’s not my point.
[IS there a point here?]
Stay with me; I do have a point.
A few weeks after Gracen was born, I realized that we should have waited to give him his name. We love the name Gracen, but I believe there are other names that would have suited him better.
***A quick note here: I wrote this post three weeks after Gracen was born (March 26th), and it has taken me this long to publish it. Over a MONTH. Because this whole mother of 3 thing is a bit more exhausting than I imagined. More on that later, though…
Dad, you may just want to go ahead and bid us all adieu. This is not a post for the super-faint of heart or anyone who gets uncomfortable at the mention of the word “uterus.” I will, however, be as discreet as possible because—despite having three children—I do still have some modesty.
Just not enough for someone who watches Andy Griffith reruns on a daily basis.
(Seriously, dad. You can get back to Mayberry now.)
This is the little baby who cried wolf.
To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t blame our baby. I blame the pastor who preached such a wonderful sermon at our church this past Sunday.
[Well, that seems reasonable.]
As Brian and I near the end of our carefree parenting days in a man-to-man defense and move into a zone defense, it seems fitting to publish the rest of our family/maternity photos. It’s difficult for me to imagine how different our lives will look and feel this time next week.
I had an OB appointment this past Tuesday, and I AM actually making some progress in the laboring department. So, it appears that you all should hear some baby news from us by the end of next week if not sooner, Lord willing!
Aaaahhhhhhhh, St. Patrick’s Day. The day I remember from childhood as an excuse for all the little girls with green scrunchies and embroidered, clover jumpers to run around pinching the crap out of those of us who forgot to wear green to school.
I’m pretty sure Saint Patrick is the patron saint of mean little girls.
I know I promised I would publish the rest of our family photos this week unless, of course, something else happened.
Well, something else happened.