Super Snacker

Tonight kind of went like this:

Dinner, FHE, workout, come home. 

Around 9 o'clock the little guy decided he wanted a snack.

So I got hungry, naturally, and Adam just so happened to be in the kitchen. 

My selection of night-time snack #1 went something like this:

Brit: Hey, hun. Would you bring me an apple?

Adam: Yeah, sure. 

....

Brit: And the peanut butter jar with a knife?

....

Brit: And the Nutella? 

By the end of it, I had basically destroyed any nutritional value in that poor, poor piece of fruit. 

But it was delicious. 

Husband couldn't help but laugh over the massive cliche I was tragically committing. I might as well have balanced both jars on my belly and demanded Oreos to come join the party. 

Little Man Clothes

Am I a bad soon-to-be mom for planning on dressing my little boy like this?

Or like this?

The correct answer is no. 

Christmas and Belly

I finally found our camera cord, so I can upload a couple of pics from Christmas and a 32 weeks belly shot. I must say, I seriously hate my face in pictures right now. I look like a red, shiny-faced German. Maybe next time I won't wear balloon pants for these things. Moving on...

Just one of Mom's many healthy stocking stuffers. Who ever heard of such a thing...

Our yankee-swap pile at Grandma and Grandpa's. 

Adam's first attempt. p.s. I didn't include too many pics of him because he had a sinus issue that whole day and his face was BEAT red.  

G-ma got Tae-Bo videos. Get kickin' lady. 

 I got an electric tea kettle/water boiler. AWESOME. 

27 weeks! Next year the little guy will be there to celebrate with us. 

What a good looking group, right?

The sisters minus one. 

New Christmas shoes. c/o Urban and H&M

And there it is

Adam thought this was clever. 

And there ya have it! 33 weeks on Monday! Maybe he'll come early and then I'll only have 5 weeks left. Holy cow that'd be awesome! 

Meanwhile, Adam's working and I'm studying still preparing for the NCLEX. Our days couldn't be more predictable. 

Gush

Do you remember your first date with your significant other? I do. Absolutely. 

I was in the middle of my second semester of school and currently "seeing" a guy who, well, I basically couldn't muster up the feelings to exclusively date (think about 500 Days of Summer and you'll know exactly what happened), and needed to get away from. So I asked out this guy named Adam. I had met him the previous semester, as we had the same little circle of friends, but he showed no interest in me and my freshman face. In my previously-mentioned desperation to get away from this other guy for just a freaking second, I asked Adam out for a Friday night school show. He told me he couldn't, but we'd go out the next day with a big group of people to this big school event. As if I was an idiot and didn't hear, "I really don't want to go out with you, but I'd feel bad if I totally ditched you. So we'll go out with a big group so I can avoid you the whole night, but still say I was a good guy and took you out." Please. What made it worse? The thing I invited him to go to that Friday night (you mean the thing he said you couldn't go to?), he ended up being at with a bunch of my other friends. I just thought, "Really? Do you really hate me that much??" But, as planned, we went to this thing the next day. Now you have to understand: I had never been dissed like that before. Not to say it's because who could possibly diss me right? It's just that I was pretty good at reading whether someone would go out with me for at least a first date or not. And man, I just was so freaking off this time. So I was intimidated. Basically, I had set myself up for a pity date and I had no idea of how to be the pitied. So, I got ready, thinking it didn't matter how cute I looked or how good I smelled, because this guy obviously thought that I was totally unattractive and un-dateable. He picked me up, and I really didn't say much of anything to him. Awkward. 

But what happened?

Well, according to him, he thought I actually did look really good and that I actually did also smell really good and he felt actual attraction for me. Imagine that? So he flirted, touched, laughed, etc. I thought he must have been joking. Then at the end of the show, there was a random "dance" and he pulled me in real close during every slow-song, saying, "Let's take advantage of these slow songs." I kind of melted a little. Who was this ridiculously good looking man dancing so close and whispering sweet things in my ear?" Then he said something that took my breath away: "Yo quiero helado."--I want ice cream. So we went with another couple and picked out ice cream at the grocery store. For some reason, deciding on which ice cream to share with a guy who wanted to have nothing to do with you is kind of terrifying. We stood in front of that freezer door for what seemed like forever. All the while, leaning up against me, trying to get me to divulge to him what I actually liked. 

I swear--anytime he touched me I lost all feeling my legs. 

So after ice cream, he drove me home and walked me up the stairs to my door. I sheepishly hugged him goodbye and thanked him for the night. He said, "You know, we should hang out again." I said, "Really???" And he said, "Yeah, what are you doing tomorrow?" 

OMG. 

He came over the next day and the next and the next and really quickly we went from "please get this date over with" to "please don't leave even though it's 1AM." 

I loved that boy from that day on and love him far more now than I did then. He is everything to me. 

Sometimes when I'm busy and preoccupied with other things I totally forget how gorgeous, romantic, and hilarious of a husband I have. He's my best friend and I would rather spend time with him than anyone, and miss him when I'm not. 

Last night in the middle of the night I woke up to him half-asleep--or maybe even totally asleep--stroking my face and putting his hand in my hair. At first I woke up like, "What the heck are you doing?" and then I thought it was cute that his subconscious didn't have his mind on video games, work, golf, or food, but his very preggo wife with matted hair and blood-shot eyes. This morning, he woke me up to kiss me goodbye, with his new prescription glasses, wearing a white v-neck t and jeans and a blue scarf. He looked like something from an H&M catalog. It was one of those, "You mean, I got to marry HIM???" moments and in my surprise, I grabbed that boy's face and kissed it real good. 

And with him gone all day making the big bucks for our little family, I feel very grateful for him. 

So, let's take two seconds to GUSH about the sexy man in my life:

He's going to be the hot daddy of the other man in my life. He's always the one to pull out the Oreos so I don't feel like a fatty for initiating a cookies and milk binge. His hair is not only girl-approved hair, it's model-like and hard not to run my fingers through. His tush is almost impossible not to squeeze. The scar on his face makes him look like a bad-A. He always asks for seconds of anything I make. Especially cookies. He loves to surprise me and make everything special. He often turns to me and says things like, "Can we just wake up one morning this weekend and have a good breakfast together and snuggle in bed the rest of the day?" --ummmm: yes. He pays attention to my pleas for romance and always one-ups me. He doesn't criticize me when in coming home from work he finds me on the couch wearing the same clothes he left me in at 8AM. He was touchy-feely from the start and hasn't slacked off one bit. My head fits perfectly on his chest and our hands match effortlessly when interlocked. 

I just love him. And I can't wait till he comes home everyday because he still makes my heart race and my whole frame melt. 

Dang boy, I just wanna buy you things!

Compare Yourself

See that?

That was me. 

18 years old, certain I'd go to medical school, caring only for field hockey, boys, and food. Lots of food. All the time. 

I saw this picture today and longed to be back playing in that game, basking in that humid-hot sun, walking off the field bleeding and dirty... 

But I remembered that I hated my senior year and couldn't wait to be out of there the entire year. 

I love this picture.

I was buff from powerlifting all summer, super tan from lifeguarding, in the best shape ever, co-captain of my team, had the biggest beater of a car, cared little about school, ran 3-5 miles every other day...blahblahblah. 

Why am I bragging about this girl?

She for sure wouldn't be bragging about herself. 

Because I'm jealous. 

Yet, at that time, her self-esteem was little to none. She hated that she weighed as much as most of her guy friends, the fact that the only clothing she was comfortable wearing were the sweatsuits her teams ordered each season, had an ugly car, couldn't keep a boyfriend for more than 2 weeks, and so on. 

I'm sure that if that girl knew that her 4.5 year later self--married, graduated, and pregnant--would be jealous of her, she'd about piss herself. 

Why am I jealous of her? 

Because I'm incompletely comparing myself to her. 

We women are harsh on ourselves, aren't we? 

We compare our little "imperfections" to the qualities of others to determine if we measure up, if they're totally "better" than us, or if we're totally "better" than them. 

But as far as I'm concerned, if we're going to put ourselves in the dangerous position of comparing ourselves to those around us, we'd better be pretty thorough in our comparing. 

Why?

Because when we compare ourselves to others, we always compare that person's best to our worst. 

And once we determine that their best is far better than our worst, we declare that they are better than us and we are only left to be jealous, while avoiding them entirely and punching a golfball-sized hole in our guts.

It's silly, right?

Take this instance: 

A woman spends hours and hours of a year finding the perfect recipe and perfect way to bake the perfect loaf of bread. After long days of sweating over a hot oven, throwing out thousands of failures, and crying in the corner, she finally does indeed perfect herself in the art. She feels excited, proud, and accomplished. So, she decides to share with her neighbors. 

Susie next door receives one of these gorgeous loaves of golden brown bread, takes a bite, and realizes that perfect Molly's loaf tastes like something from a dream. 

Susie immediately compares this lump of heaven to what she could bake for her family and realized that her own ability was limited to baking a flat, dense, grainy brick of wheat that ended up barely eaten and ultimately thrown in the trash. 

What's more? 

Susie's husband came home that night, took a slice of Molly's bread, and stated, "Wow hunny, Molly really knows what she's doing." 

Get the picture? 

How does Susie feel? 

Like she could never measure up to Molly in not only bread making, but anything Molly endeavored to accomplish. To Susie, Molly was perfect, and Susie couldn't stand her. 

But all the while the reason why Molly tried perfecting her loaf of bread was because she had tried for years and years to master chocolate chip cookies like Susie had, but accepted defeat and moved onto something else. 

We are all silly, aren't we? 

Next time, instead of comparing yourself to someone else's hard earned and practiced talents, fitness, belongings, etc., admire their ability to do so and your own personal ability to master other things that are equally admirable.

Kind of the typical Mormon-Mom example, but it works. 

One of Satan's greatest tools is to have us accept our own defeat as a person, limiting our desire and belief in ourselves to progress and become better. He would love more than anything to have us pine away in a lonely corner about how wonderful Molly's bread is, how stupid we are for not being able to make it as good as she does, and totally forget how to bake chocolate chip cookies altogether. 

That's lame. 

HOT

Last night I went on a date with a man. 

What was he wearing? 

Oh, how naughty of you to ask.

Penguin pajama pants and a black v-neck T. I know. Sexy. 

I invited him over to my place after we worked out together at our apartment's fitness center. 

We made homemade pizza and cuddled up on the couch with Oreos and milk and the second Lord of the Rings. 

Every once in a while, in between spurts of black blood and wizard fights, he would whisper things in my ear like, "It's really cold in our apartment," "Did you check the mail today?" and "You're really cute." 

It was a hot date. 

He even stayed the night. 

And he has a really cute tush.

I'm glad he's the father of my child. 

This is him. Close your mouths, ladies. 

May Photo Shoot

I have extremely talented friends. This particular friend, Tiffany Whitsitt (previously Christensen) is no exception. 
SHE IS AMAZING. 
We did this shoot I believe last May. It was freezing and ridiculously windy, but her and all of her wonderfulness shot some of the best pictures of us I have ever owned. I can't wait to blow some of these suckers up. This was right before I got pregnant, and gosh I can't wait to do another shoot in May with the little guy this time. 
I know they're all on Facebook and some already here on the blog, but I just wanted to feature some select favorites. 

Wellness

There are some things I can't go without. For instance, chocolate after dinner (didn't she explain this in the last post?), feeling a sense of accomplishment, and most importantly, human-interaction. Human-interaction is what keeps up sane, not to mention apart from the animals, and, essentially, happy and normal people. Since our move from Rexburg, I feel as though I have been completely removed from those around me--whether this is solely self-inflicted or circumstantial or a combination of the two is still a question needing to be answered. At the current moment, sitting on my bed in my new room, with my husband busy assembling a new dresser, I feel uncharacteristically empty. Empty in that I feel alone, overwhelmed, un-edified and unrelieved. 
And do I dare go as far as to say: hopeless? 
The odd thing is that I have been around people these entire two weeks. I have spent time with family, my husband, friends, and complete strangers. So what explains these sudden and unpleasant feelings? 
As a retrace my steps, I think I've realized something interesting--or at least something I find interesting: amidst my previous settings with my previous people, I have been elsewhere--in my mind. Translation? My mind has been elsewhere. 
Where?
Apartment hunting, apartment decorating, NCLEX studying, NCLEX worrying, baby worrying, baby hoping, new residence unpacking, new residence paperwork-ing, online class taking, grocery store shopping, etc. 
Although I've been out on dates with my husband, spending time with family and friends, and corresponding with humans around me, all the while, I have been in my own head trying to plan/organize every detail of my next purchases, events, obligations, etc. that I have not actually been corresponding at all. 
Which leads me to raise this question: Can simply being too busy, in both body and mind, cause the things we do each day to keep us sane to not have any effect on us at all? 
I know the answer seems so obvious: of course it can. But let's be honest people--do we actually think that rule applies to us, as opposed to that guy/gal down the road? 
No. Probably not. 
I now have a better understanding of how people, especially women, can easily be run right into the hard, cold, lonely ground, simply by being too busy, too ambitious, and running faster than they have the strength. 
I believe that mental and physical health go hand-in-hand to define our wellness and that if we're not happy or finding emotional stimulation and enjoyment by doing things that would normally bring us such, then perhaps we're not in need of medication, a sick-day, or therapy, maybe we just need to slow down the pace and allow ourselves to be stimulated. 
What am I doing tomorrow? 


Nothing. 

Dessert

I love dessert.
I always have. 
One time I got the spanking of a lifetime for sticking my 5-year old finger in my little sister's birthday cake before dinner. Understandable, considering I didn't do it just once try about 10. Things haven't changed. I still prefer cookies and milk over a sandwich for lunch and think "what the heck" when someone sends me home after a dinner-date without at least a piece of chocolate. 
So here's a confession:
Today I went to cutesy little French cafe for lunch with a friend. 
It gets worse. 
Amongst all the delicious sandwiches, soups, and salads, this particular cafe greeted us with a beautiful display of French gems: pastries. Super hardcore ones at that. The kind that's almost too pretty too eat. 
Usually after something like lunch I don't need anything sweet, so I really didn't think about purchasing something other than my vegetarian croissant sandwich. 
But on the way out I thought, "It would be cruel to come home and tell Adam I went to a French bakery without bringing him back something."
So I bought something. 
And on the way home, I got a little curious and had a conversation with myself about this beautiful white box staring from the seat next to me. 
"I wonder if it's even good."
"Oh course it's good, Britney, but how good?"
"Maybe we should make sure it's safe."
I tried it. Surely husband would understand that in purchasing this over-priced delicacy that I would certainly want a little nibble. 
One bite turned into two. Yeah, ok, I ate the whole thing. 
Alright, but let me explain my rationale:
This particular dessert resembled a triple-layered chocolate mousse cake with super-thin crust in-between each fluffy layer. I thought when buying it that it was more of a cheesecake. The problem? Adam doesn't like pudding. He couldn't possibly enjoy this as much as I would. In fact, I was doing him a favor--if I was told someone had a pricey French dessert just for me my hopes and expectations would be pretty high. I wouldn't want to be disappointed with something I really didn't care for--like cherry pie...sick. So really, I selflessly took the bullet for my man and saved him some major disgruntlement. 
I mean, it could have ruined his whole day.


Yeah, I'm a bad wife. 
Not to mention a total pig. 
But it was 100% worth it. 
Don't judge me. 

Aimless Rant

No one wants to hear a 7-months-pregnant woman rant about...well anything...but we all have a need to divulge--or perniciously expel--our inner-most frustrations, annoyances, and heart-felt omg's. So stop here if you're already not in the mood, but from here on out, I'm whining about my experiences of the past 5 days:
-I'm under the impression that 2/3 of the world's hepatitis is festering in rest stop toilets. 
-Why when I ask for an "Iced Chocolate" do I get without question an "Ice Coffee?"
-I can't quite understand why people enjoy watching me eat. Do they think it's cute that I'm taking care of my unborn child? Are they waiting to judge me for eating a Reese's? Or are they expecting some sort of freak show where I eat everything in site? 
-Obviously I'm biased and think that the east coast is the greatest place on earth, but when a waiter finds out I know where Cherry Hill, NJ is because--oh-my-gosh-no-way--he's from there, I don't care to talk about everything you love about it. Just bring me my *@$# food. 
-Why would I want a 2 bedroom, 2 bath apartment where the second bathroom is in the baby's room? So Jude can start out his life with his very own stand-up shower? 
-Leggings are not pants. Especially when you're not athletic. 
-How hard is it to include water, sewage, and garbage in the rent to close a deal? "Oh, you want to sign a year lease paying way more than you really need to for one of our shoeboxes, but won't do it if we don't pay those, even though every other apartment complex is? Ummm, no, $40/month just isn't worth it." Jerks. 
-Why is there 1 Dunkin Donuts in the Northwest? 
-Hey drivers: Stop cutting me off. I don't care if you're late for a Tree People's meeting. 
-If something I'm charged a daily rate to rent is returned 3 days early, I expect to be refunded those 3 days. Understand?
-How much ice cream is too much? A heaping bowl a day? What if it's low-fat? 
-I just got my OK to schedule a time and place to take the NCLEX. Eff. 
-Why don't they design beds specifically so that pregnant women can sleep at night too? I mean, most people are pregnant at some point during the use of their mattresses. We can't all be skinny our entire lives. I would assume it would work the same way for men with potbellies. 
-Ikea's having a sale and I don't have a place to live.
-Thanks but no thanks Portland pizza. 
-Please don't lie to me and tell me I look fabulous when my face is red, my butt and ankles are swollen, and I'm scarfing down a piece of cake the size of a small child. 
-Out of all the changes going on with my body right now, why did my eyebrows decide to get involved? Who gets frizzy eyebrows? 
-"This too shall pass" better not be just empty words of comfort to calm the desperate. 
-Why am I constantly running out of clean underwear? Who the heck is wearing my underwear?


Hah that felt good. 

Memories

This is a picture of our second day in a row hanging out. I just found it. Thought you'd enjoy it.