Caress Me Down

Today I got a prenatal massage.

You know what is awkward?  Getting a prenatal massage when you are 23 weeks pregnant from a woman who is 32 weeks pregnant...with twins.

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It felt so great.  But as always, my mind started to wonder...

Does she think I'm a bitch because I'm making her rub my back even though she is two months more pregnant than me, with twice as many babies?

I wonder where in Wilmington has the best Cookies n' Cream ice cream.

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I wonder if she noticed that I only shaved 3/4 of my legs before I came here.

Why is it that when you are pregnant you fart by accident all the time, but go poop on purpose basically never?

I wonder if that hard candy I saw at the front desk is any good?  I need to pick some up on the way out.

Why can't hours between your kid's nap and your husband's arrival from work pass as fast as hours spent getting a massage?  That would probably save moms so much money on wine.

Wine.  I miss wine.  And by wine I mean bourbon.

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I wonder if anyone will ever be as excited to see me as I am to see my husband come home each day. 

If my husband could just take a day off of work each week to give me a massage and play with our child while I sleep I would promise never to get mad about him using my soap.

But mostly I was thinking about how not hype the recording sessions are when they make wind chime soundtracks they play during massages and yoga.

I want more rubs. 

J'Adore Preschool

There are a lot of moments when something happens and I'm like, "Woah, I'm a mom."

Nothing has given me a more profound sense of that woahness then when I put a sign in my windshield for carpool pick up at preschool for Jack.  There's really no turning back now.

Also, preschool is magical.  

Even though I barely had time to go to the gym and grocery store before I had to turn back around to get Jack, I still did those things.  By myself.  For the first time in a year and a half.

By the time he got home he was so exhausted that he ate two bites of lunch and almost fell asleep in his high chair.

Now he's taking a 2+ hour nap.  I feel like I'm cheating the whole parenting system.  I barely have to actively parent at all today.

The future is so bright!

A-Choo Ew

I just want to give a Friday shout out to the after-cereal sneeze.

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Not since Hiroshima has an explosion caused more collateral damage.  It's nasty.

Honorable mention to the toddler, after-Goldfish sneeze while you're carrying him.  Orange splattered shoulders are so hot right now.

1 + 1 = Oh my wine

I am having another baby in January and, even though I don't usually believe in old wives' tales, I'm almost positive I'm having a girl.  Or a demon.

You see, I have been feeling like a giant pile of doo for the last several months.  Imagine headaches that last for days and running away from meals to go vomit in the bathroom.  Basically I feel like I'm back in college drinking room temperature donkey bottles of Vendage every night.  Which I did.  And still don't understand how I graduated.

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In addition to hurling in public places, I've also been doing awesome stuff like this:

Was I even moving during this half hour??

This is what I call the "I Am Literally Just Here to Kill Time" workout".

I also, on more than one occasion, saw the commercial start for Jublia during Wimbledon and got all excited about getting my hands on some Cinnamon Toast Crunch before I realized the graphic I was seeing was a toe fungus gremlin and not a delicious cinna-square.   So that's clearly a new low.

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Basically as I always suspected, I'm just like the Duchess of York Princess Cate.  She's my morning sickness spirit sister.

JK, it's still Amy Schumer.

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And yes I'm very excited.  But I'm also very scared.  Two under two shant be easy.  But at least after January I close my uterus business forever and enjoy my only two kids for the rest of my non-pregnant life.

Not Smoothie

This is what happens when your child is basically like the adorable version of Gordon Ramsey in the kitchen with 0% patience when his food is bring prepared:

And honestly I'm only saying Gordon Ramsey because Mussolini seems like too harsh of a comparison for a toddler.  But if you don't get this kid his food in 2 minutes or less after he has walked into the kitchen, you better watch your back.  It makes for some really relaxing 6:15 wake up calls.

You get flustered at his screaming and then you accidentally paint your entire kitchen in colorful and sticky smoothie.

(It turns out even fancy blenders are smart enough to tell you that the lid wasn't on all the way.)

While my kitchen looks like a tub of blueberry curd exploded, at least I thought to look in the mirror and get the excess liquid out of my hair.  Unlike this morning, when I accidentally dropped a plate of eggs, which could not have broken into more pieces.  It wasn't until about 3 hours later that I realized I had a nice cheesy chunk of protein dangling above my ear.

I'm basically nailing motherhood.

Now on a more serious note, this is my AFTER cleaning picture.  Does anyone know how to get blueberry stain off of a ceiling?

Now I want Chipotle

Should I be alarmed that 4 separate people tagged me in this Instagram post yesterday?

 

 

 

Whatever...If the burrito fits!