36 - Domestication.

I recently began learning how to cook in a real way. Do you know how easy it is to bake chicken breast?!

This weekend I challenged myself to make meals for the week using the stuff we had on hand. (Okay, I cheated a tiny bit and got a couple things from the grocery store to complete some recipes.)

This meant meal planning. Meal prepping. And me, barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Oy. I AM ALL THE CLICHES.

I spent 5 hours in the kitchen making meals. It was crazy. Like actually crazy. I was racing against the clock because we had a babysitter coming promptly at 7pm. The babysitter coming means drop EVERYTHING and run out the door. Because. Babysitter. Get da hell outta there and be toddler-free.

I was crushing it, nailing it, so pumped. I made so much food and some of it is even truly delicious.

Time was ticking away and I hadn't eaten dinner yet. Surrounded by all this food, and hadn't eaten! The time came. The babysitter arrived. I had to do something. I'm pregnant, for God's sake! Feed the baby('s mother's thighs).

You know what I ate? After all that. I walked out of the house with a baggie of pretzels & cheese, and an apple wrapped up in a paper towel (which doubled as cutting board then napkin on-the-go).

WTF is my prob? Am I actually a toddler? (Well, cheese IS delicious. Who am I kidding.)  

35. The age that feels like real adulthood, no excuses, and people start saying things about women's reproductive parts. Screw you people.

I'd like to point out that the title for this post is my longest yet and it might be my favorite.

This post is actually a note about strollers and the life one lives when the stroller reigns. But before we jump in, I would like to give a nod toward the title I mentioned and say that people should mind their damn business when a woman turns 35 and doesn't have kids. In general people should mind their business, but there is such a THING about women and turning 35 and people being like, "OOOOOH her eggs are all automatically shriveled up" and "Now [one day later than yesterday, when she was 34] it'll be SO HARD for her to get pregnant and when she does the kid will probably be developmentally delayed, like, for sure" and "She's 35? I wonder if she wants kids. She should really think about that" and BLAH BLAH.

Full disclosure - I have totally had these thoughts. More disclosure - I recognized those thoughts, blew them up, and asked forgiveness from the females of the universe for making all the judgements. (They forgave me. Thank you, females.)

I've read so much about pregnancy and asked my OB and other medical pro's so many questions, especially the absurd ones. PEOPLE - let's just shut up about other peoples' medical business, agreed? Let's send blessings instead of judgements. Wish happiness instead of guilt.

The lady parts are powerful. Let's respect them.

Now I don't want to talk about the stroller thing.

#imwithallthehers #andalltheutes

34: The Pregnant Olympian

I was headed to the grocery store. I didn't have the bud with me (grocery store with no bud is my equivalent of a spa day, thank ya, Jesus!). I was flying solo. I had parked and was riding up the escalator from the parking garage. Now in my third trimester and feeling every bit of it, I was challenging myself to walk briskly up those escalator steps even though I didn't have to. I did it - really a great pace. As I was nearing the top I saw a woman coming toward me. She was coming at me at such a pace that we would arrive at the intersection of my escalator exit and her walking-towards-the store entrance at the same time. I decided I wouldn't let this happen. I WOULD beat her to the intersection and I WOULD clear her path without any doubt of my physical dominance no matter how pregnant I am. By the way, this was an older woman - my senior by at least thirty or forty years. Also by the way, I've been watching the Olympics and I am a total super fan of anything Olympiad. I felt this particular competition was in the bag. I picked up my pace, really focusing on my breathing to get maximum power. And - I made it. I took that corner like a freaking pro - probably set an OR (Olympic Record) if not a WR (World Record) and snuck right past my competitor, keeping up my pace through the turn and right into the grocery store. To say I was pleased with myself would be an understatement. In my mind I had a gold medal around my neck.

I crossed paths with the woman again in the produce section. My competitor had heart monitor stickers on her upper chest. But my medal was still legit.

33: A List

Toddlers are:

1. Neanderthals
2. The most high maintenance employers one will ever have
3. Tiny drunk adults
4. A terrible investment
5. Stand up comedians
6. REALLY bad at knowing what is and is not to be to put in one's mouth
7. Always looking good and feeling good
8. Capable of turning a dreadful day into the best day ever with just one giggle or hug
9. The worst roommates ever
10. Our future! THESE people are our future! THESE ONES!

32: This is my age! I am 32!

How many of you baby-wipe-carrying people use baby wipes to wipe things other than a baby and operate as if that freshly-wiped thing is now completely sanitary?

Anyone?

Asking for a friend.

31 - One more thing I should probably not state publicly.

I'm jumping into the middle of a whole storied day, here, so just a few tidbits of context first:
 - Emmett's sleep schedule was thrown off all day because of an accidental car nap in the morning (read: NOT ENOUGH SLEEP)
 - At the time we start this story it was 30 minutes past bedtime
 - We (the bud and I) were driving in the car

This scenario is a ripe for a car nap exactly when one should NOT have a car nap.

The bud also had an early dinner and by this point he needed at least a snack before throwing him in the crib for the night.

Well, GOOD THING I HAD A BAG OF TORTILLA CHIPS WITH ME!

I passed him one tortilla chip (excuse me, organic blue corn tortilla chip) at a time back to his little hand wagging in the air from his back-facing carseat. This accomplished two things:
1. Kept him awake on the way home, and
2. Put a little something in his belly - it was chips, but at least it was something.
Actually, here's one more thing - 3. It was great entertainment for me because his little hand wagging in the air from his carseat in the back, awaiting a gift from the front, is just about the cutest thing you've ever seen.

When we got home I lifted him out of his carseat and low and behold there were several partial chips there on the seat that snuck through the bud's hands and fell down off his lap. I didn't want to leave them there (because I'm so annoyed at my past self when my current self goes to put the bud in the car and finds a small pile of stale food from the last round of car snacking waiting for us in his carseat - gross). I was out of little trash baggies that I would usually use for this type of thing and we don't have a trashcan nearby in our parking garage. So without hesitation I popped those chips in my mouth. All of 'em. Scooped them up and tossed them back like it was absolutely normal. I did have a fraction of a second of logical thought about it - and this was still my best conclusion. To eat the tortilla chips that my tiny son probably slobbered on, rubbed around in his sticky little hand, dropped in his seat, and rested his [clothed] butt cheeks on for 20 minutes.

I felt pretty great about my decision (they were still a little crunchy!) until a few chews in and I tasted the essence of diaper. A couple more chews and the diap taste was overpowering. But CLEAN diap. And his carseat was ready and waiting for our next hurry-we're-late dash out the door so all in all, WIN.