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My Professional Background - Once upon a time, I wanted to be a motivational speaker. Actually, I was a professional motivational speaker for about 5 years.:

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With a Little Help from My Girlfriends

Several weeks ago I received a message from my precious friend Donna to ask if she could throw me a baby shower in Georgia. First of all…let me just stop right here so I can confess something. Thoughtfulness is probably not my super power.

If you listen closely, you can hear my family violently nodding their heads in agreement.

I’m forgetful. I’m self-centered by nature. I’m a procrastinator. And I can be selfish with my time.

If there was a support group for people like me, NO ONE would show up for the meetings.

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Four More Weeks

Last September I had dinner with my dear, childhood friends Liz and Donna. Liz was in her third trimester with twin babies (her 3rd and 4th kids), and I recall that she was lamenting her overall state of discomfort. She had weeks left before she was officially full term, but Liz said she would have let the doctor rip her open that moment—right on a table in the middle of Panera Bread—to end her suffering.

Okay, those are my melodramatic words, not hers.

I was at the barely-there baby bump phase of this pregnancy, and I remember encouraging/lecturing her on the importance of carrying full term and the absolute atrocity of c-sections for the sake of the mother’s comfort or convenience. Shame on these mothers for wanting to rip a child out of the womb before he or she is fully developed, I thought to myself. Shame on them!

Oh…stupid, stupid Katy. 

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Love-Themed Consumerism

Does that title seem too negative? I sure hope not. It’s just that I’ve never been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day. I believe it is nothing more than a day when the candy, flower, greeting card, and tacky stuffed animal industries all conspire together to hike up the price of their products 500% and tell us all that we are thoughtless should we choose to not purchase them. Because, my fellow Americans, there is no greater symbol of love and affection than a bag full of stale, heart-shaped antacids that has been on a display shelf at Target since the day after Christmas.

Actually, I believe comedian Jim Gaffigan said it best:

“I know I make you nauseous. Here’s a TUMS with ‘hug me’ written on it.”

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Letting Go...at Taekwondo

There comes a time in the natural course of parenthood when a mom or a dad realizes they have to let their little ones go. As parents, we all know it’s coming. And, yet, it doesn’t make that moment any less difficult or emotional.

For some, that moment comes when they send their little ones to day care or preschool for the first time. Many parents experience it every. single. time. their kids reach a new milestone like eating solid foods, potty training, or their first manicure. These parents will post a photo on Facebook and say something ridiculous like, “I can’t believe my little baby is already _________. It seems like only yesterday when _________.”

Then the rest of us roll our eyes and say to ourselves, “Ugh. I’m so sick of hearing about all these perfect parents with their perfect kids. I’m quitting Facebook.”

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The Procrastinator, the Pennies, & the Porcelain Throne

Somehow—probably when I was daydreaming of a moving fairy that would unpack the remaining 6,000 boxes at our house—the middle of January snuck up and bit me in the rear. I’m just not accustomed to living in a house surrounded by clutter for this length of time.

Correction: I’m not accustomed to living in a house surrounded by clutter that does not have a preordained resting place. 

I just didn’t want anyone to get the impression that I’m the type of person who has a pegboard in my garage with outlines of the tools that belong in each spot with the tools actually hanging in those spots. Sure, I’d totally have the pegboard with the outlines. Just not the tools in their place.

Because that’s the behavior of a crazy person.
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Breaking and Entering

There’s nothing quite like kicking off the New Year with an Internet search for illegal activity and bonding with the new neighbors in the process, amIright?

As I mentioned in my last post a thousand years ago, our family came down with a series of illnesses that stretched from the Sunday after Thanksgiving until Christmas.

Literally.

Brian and I both had two separate illnesses, and one of mine likely turned into a sinus infection that made my girls’ trip to New York in early December a bit less comfortable.

[Is she seriously complaining that her leisurely trip to New York wasn’t so perfect?]

Oh, it was awesome; don’t get me wrong. We shopped, we saw shows, and we ate like tourists. I just thought my eardrum might explode when we descended on the flight back home.

Let’s just say it all together now: First. World. Problems.

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Going Viral

“I realized somebody oughtta make an alarm clock that sounds like a baby barfing. ‘Cuz you know what? There IS no snoozing’.” —Bill Engvall

I generally give you a chance to finish your breakfast burrito before I throw a vomit quote out there all willy-nilly like that, but I figured this was the best way to kick off my post-Thanksgiving wrap-up.

Get it? Burrito. Wrap-up.

[Someone get this comedic genius her own TV show.]

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Bat out of Birmingham

These past few weeks here in our corporate apartment in Birmingham, Alabama have been challenging to say the least. Brian began his new routine at a regular, 8-5 job for the first time in our marriage. And please believe me, neither of us is complaining. Brian is home every night, and I’m pretty sure the greatest hazards facing him in this particular career field are paper cuts and carpal tunnel.

What has been most challenging for me is the period between 7:30 a.m. and 5:45 p.m. where I have two sets of eyeballs staring at me like I’m supposed to know how to entertain them all day every day.

Do I LOOK like Chuck E Cheese’s? 

Don’t answer that.

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Gender Reveal

Last Wednesday I had my first appointment with the doctor who will, Lord willing, deliver our 3rd child on (or hopefully very close to) March 30th. It’s currently November, and I hadn’t seen a doctor since August. Unless you count Dr. Doogie Howser who saw me in the ER after my flu shot. I didn’t talk much about him in my post, but I’m pretty sure he graduated from medical school approximately 15 minutes before he walked into the exam room.

And I know some of you type-A personalities would freak out if you had to wait 3 months for an ultrasound, but we had no choice. In three short months, we packed up our entire lives, left Kansas, semi-moved to my in-law’s place in Georgia, left the military, looked for a new job, found a new job, semi-moved into a corporate apartment in Alabama, found a house, and then found a doctor.

Basically, I’ve been sitting on my pregnant butt eating cheese dip and watching Judge Judy since August.
 
[She seems like the Judge Judy type. Also, the cheese dip type.]
 
I could seriously go for some cheese dip right now.

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