I Once Heard that 'Bullet Points' was Too Violent a Term.

• I am working insane hours. Like, basically, ALL THE HOURS. I've working like crazy to launch a new website that will rebrand my business, and have lots of wonderful clients that I'm working with, as well. I go to bed too late, ignore my husband and baby too much, and am generally parked in front of my computer all hours of the day. Seriously. I told Mike today that I understood why the teacher from The Freedom Writers got divorced. Not that I'm saving the world or anything. Just working 20/7.

• As much as I use LeechBlock (love!), I sometimes cheat. As a result, I've had to make a wallpaper for my desktop to remind myself to just STOP IT ALREADY. I've had a few requests to share, so here it is!



To use: click on it so it opens in another window. Then right click (or ctrl+click and 'set as desktop background.')

• I just launched an internationally best-selling author's blog today. She lives in London and just got back from a trip to Italy to meet with historians. Have I mentioned how awesome and interesting my clients are?

• Have I ever told you that I am stupidly obsessed with The View? I'm not sure if it's the fact that it's on Hulu or if I  actually like it...but I pretty much watch an episode every day while cleaning and cooking dinner. I tell Mike that I watch it to hear current events discussed...like Octomom bringing her 23 children on an airplane.  Yeah.  

• I am contemplating switching to WordPress. I still think Blogger is AMAZING in terms of what it has to offer, especially for newbies (free > $100 a year). But the plug-ins? I might be in love.

• I like Harry Potter, but I'm not obsessed. Is there a middle ground? It seems as though everyone is either FANS!!11 HARRY POTTER FOREVERRRR or...hasn't read the books.  I loved the books, but I honestly cannot handle Daniel Ratcliff as Harry. I'll see the movie on DVD. Or at the dollar theater. Are you going to take away my wand now?

•  I'm sort of tired of being a mom. I mean, not being Gabe's mom, but being a mom amongst other moms; existing in this weird world where everyone has opinions about Really Important Things like parenting and how to feed your child and take care of your child...and talking about it is tiring. Don't get me wrong, it's also reassuring and helpful to know that other people have so been there. But the part that exhausts me is the partisanship (where you belong to a parenting philosophy instead of a political party).  People get defensive when they do things differently than someone else. (I mean, there is clearly Right and Wrong about some things; child abuse = NO), but I feel like I can't ever talk about what my experiences and choices as a mother without a few people popping up to say, "That didn't work for me/That's not how we do it/Let me tell you why you're wrong." See? Tiring.

• I got two novels from the library today Mockingjay (!!!! - the final in The Hunger Games series; I almost don't want to start it!) and Matched by Ally Condie. They are both 'teen' novels. Mike may have made fun of me. (His books right now? Political philosophy and freaking Ghandi.)

• I am also reading Tina Fey's Bossypants and I am even MORE in love with her. I told Mike I wished she had a blog, but he said she's too important for that. Psh. And last night as we were laying in bed reading, I kept making him read funny bits from Bossypants (so, basically, ALL OF IT). He said, "Ha! Let me read something to you that Ghandi wrote that is hilarious."

The Entirely-Too-Long Breastfeeding Post.

The following is a post documenting my experiences with breastfeeding. It includes words like 'boobs' and 'nipples.' It’s certainly not meant to make those who weren’t able to, or chose not to, breastfeed feel guilty – I just wanted to finally share the first eight months of this journey in its entirety.

When I shared Gabriel’s birth story last fall, I briefly mentioned that he nursed shortly after he was born. What I glossed over, though, was that it wasn’t as easy or as intuitive or as beautiful as I’d been told it would be. The books I’d read, our childbirth instructor, and the breastfeeding class we took, all promised us that if the birth was unmedicated, the baby wasn’t bathed immediately, and the mother was able to hold the baby without delay – the baby could find the breast itself! The baby would latch on right away! Sunshine! Rainbows! Happy nursing! So natural!

Um, no.

What did happen: I got meconium (newborn poop) on my boob (full of post-birth endorphins, I happily chirped to my labor nurse, “I feel like a real mom now!”) and Gabe had zero interest in nursing. He didn’t latch on and he didn’t do anything except stare at me wide-eyed. So I just held his little body against mine for an hour, basking in the feeling of holding the one I’d felt inside of me for months. Basking in an indescribable love and newness and so much happiness I can’t even encapsulate it in words. It’s this rising feeling I get in my heart when I think about holding my fresh, new baby close to me, cradling his little body for the first time and gazing into each other’s eyes.

Getting swept up in the moment here. Ahem. Sorry about that.

After a while, the post-birth hormones waned and a wall of tiredness slammed into me. We both went to sleep. After all, it was 4 am, preceded by 24 hours of labor, including two and a half HOURS OF PUSHING (I’m not bitter at all about that anymore. Nope.). In the back of my mind, I was a bit concerned that he didn't really care about nursing, but brushed it off, since I was exhausted.

The next day, I attempted to nurse Gabe a few more times, but it just felt off. He didn’t really latch on well and when he did latch on, he sucked away like a little barracuda. (Mike had several hickeys on his biceps from Gabe.) I had no idea what I was doing. I was lost and a bit confused. And fairly concerned the first day or two would get totally screwed up by my lack of ability to figure out how cram the baby onto the boob.

Then, while my parents were visiting, the lactation consultant, Penny, came to see us (and with a mere, “Are you experiencing any nipple soreness?” had my dad ushering my family out of the room). She tested Gabe’s sucking reflexes, and determined that he was a 'vigorous sucker' but dealt with an 'uncoordinated sucking reflex'. (Basically: once he's got latched on, he'd suck like crazy, but so frantically that he didn't latch well.) Upon hearing that I was, indeed, experiencing major soreness, she toyed with the idea of introducing a shield or having me pump, but decided against it. She watched us nurse, had us try some different holds, and told us to aim for 30 minutes. I couldn’t get him to go more than three minutes, and was so, so defeated.

Although things weren’t perfect, Penny was amazing. She empowered us and I trusted her information. Since Gabe wasn’t keen on nursing, she showed me how to hand-express colostrum onto a spoon and feed him with it. She explained that recent studies showed that hand-expression led to my milk coming in more quickly. She showed us the best holds for newborns. She told us how to flip Gabe's bottom lip under to get a wider latch. She gave us a pile of papers filled with information.

We left the hospital 36 hours after Gabriel was born, eager to take him home. I was excited to leave; giddy about putting his impossible tiny hospital t-shirt (“I got my first hug at Lakewood hospital”) on his wee body and buckling him into his car seat. We drove the hour home in the sunshine, listening to lullabies.

Being at home with our new baby was wonderful, but the nursing thing was still so painful and I worried. Without a lactation consultant coming by several times a day, I cried to Mike that we should have stayed longer. That I needed help from Penny. That I worried. About how Gabe's shallow latch would destroy my nipples FOREVER. About whether it was a problem that he never wanted to nurse for more than ten minutes, but was usually done after five. About whether I'd ever be able to wear a shirt again. About why the heck it hurt SO MUCH when everyone told me it was painless unless something was wrong.

I felt lost. It was so much more difficult and less intuitive than I expected. And overwhelming! Not only do I have to recover from a super-intense, painful event; I have to learn how to take care of a teeny tiny baby; I also have to learn how to feed a baby with my freaking body!?

I felt so alone and desperately wanted to call one of my aunts and ask them desperately, “Is it supposed to be this hard?” but worried they’d say, “No” and I’d be incredibly discouraged. I wonder if I'd have survived without the internet. Both Twitter and the Mothering.com forum boards were so helpful. I'd be in tears, frustrated and worried and in pain, and lightly say something about how hard nursing is. The responses usually made me burst into tears because they were so sweet. (Also because of The Hormones. Woah.) I'll always remember when Michelle told me that the first few weeks are challenging. And then Sarah said that the first month or two is hardest. First, why had NO ONE else mentioned this when I was planning to breastfeed? Second, A FEW WEEKS!? Seemed like an eternity. But, telling myself that my boobs would eventually stop making me cry gave me hope.

We went to the lactation consultant at the hospital when Gabe was eight days old (they usually do one home visit after the birth - but we lived too far from hospital to get in on that), and she was, again, wonderful. She affirmed us, she settled all of my worries, and even told me I didn't look like I had just had a baby. Good news, all around. I left that office thinking I'd actually be able to stick with this whole breastfeeding thing. I still worried and I was still sore when Gabe latched on for quite a few weeks (though I stopped crying every time he did so after two weeks), but I was encouraged. This will happen. I will be a nursing mom like I'd always wanted.

Remembering those first few weeks is still painful - how much uncertainty and pain I experienced. I've been nursing Gabe for 36 weeks, and I am amazed by that. Amazed because 36 weeks ago, a 'few weeks' sounded like an absolute eternity.

I had everything going for me, and it was still so challenging. I had a vaginal birth (with no epidural); Gabe was born at 40 weeks; I held him immediately after he was born and attempted nursing within an hour; my husband is ridiculously supportive; and my milk started to come in after two days. I have so much respect for women who deal with greater odds and fight like crazy and do ‘crazy’ things in order to make it work; like Tam, whose baby didn't latch on his own for ELEVEN WEEKS. Or Erin, who pumped full-time for TWINS for 6.5 months. I'm not sure I could have been able to fight that hard, wrestling with supplemental nursing systems and hospital-grade breast pumps.

Eight months later, I actually really, really enjoy nursing. I love the convenience, I love the connection I feel to Gabe, and I love the surge of happy hormones that are released when Gabe is nursing. And: I love that I get 500 extra calories a day with which to stuff my body. Sure, I don’t love the pumping when I work (or waking up 4:20 am in order to have time to pump before work when Gabe was two-months-old). And sometimes it’d be nice to spend the night away from Gabe (or maybe not, I am way attached to the kid). And, yes, I am scared for what my body will look like after nursing. But, mostly? I’m thrilled that it worked out for us.

Despite the fact that nursing is ridiculously convenient, I am a total and complete wimp about nursing Gabe in public. I’ve heard quite a few guys I know make comments about being ‘grossed out’ by the idea of breastfeeding; which, of course, makes me totally self-conscious about even nursing with a nursing cover around others. (I don’t understand my own reasoning, you guys. A nursing cover means there is one MORE layer over my boobs than usual.)

I am surrounded by women who nurse wherever they happen to be – talking to their brother, sitting next to their dad, or in a room of toddlers playing. I love seeing moms nurse in public; I think it’s totally badass and not at all inappropriate or weird. But still, I am a wimp. I’ll nurse around my mom, sisters, little kids, and aunts, but anyone else? No way. I’ve nursed in far more bathrooms than I’m comfortable admitting, which wouldn’t be that gross if there were a chair in the bathroom, but sitting on a toilet while feeding your child? Just seems wrong.

I’ve nursed in public twice (not counting a billion times in my car in parking lots): on campus last weekend and while on hike the weekend before. No one came by either time, but I’m still counting it. Baby steps, right? I still felt pretty awesome.

Nursing on a hike. :) Brave, right? Except no one was around.

This weekend we’re going to New York City, and I’m thinking this might be my big debut of actually nursing in public. I mean, I know hardly anyone there. And there are much more interesting things to look at than a mom nursing her baby, right? No one will even notice Wish me luck!

Feeling Pretty and Such. [Ten on Tuesday]

I haven’t participated in this sort of thing in the past, but I absolutely loved today’s Ten on Tuesday questions. Friendship, adolescence, girlhood, and crazy roommates. I love chatting about these things and they are such big players in how we identify as women – so here I am! Doing my first Ten on Tuesday! Hurrah!

1. How many blogs do you read every day and what are they? (I’m talking the ones you NEVER miss)

I read lots of blogs, but don’t comment as often. I recently started using my Google Reader again, after a year-ish of not using it. Since I’m not on Twitter as much, but still want to keep up with the blogs I read (side note: when will the word ‘blog’ stop seeming like a silly, cartoon-ish word?), so I went in and did some subscribing and unsubscribing and organizing.

I made four groups of blogs – one of ‘inspirational’ blogs, one for ‘besties,’ and then two more groups of first and second tier blogs. I *always* check the besties daily. There are twenty four blogs in this group, but usually only a few of them post each day. I tend to not have blogs that post daily in this category, since they accumulate so fast. I’m totally not going to name them, because I know I feel sort of left out when I see those sorts of lists, and I don’t want you to. You know, just in case you’re ridiculously sensitive like I am.

2. How many “best friends” do you have? Do you have different “besties” for different areas of your life?

Oh, I don’t know. I don’t have tons and tons of friends, so I consider the ones I do have all besties, I suppose. I have a few from high school, a few from college, and a few from post-college. Plus, my sisters. They really are some of my best friends. They are just such fun, know me, and have shared life experiences with me. I think moving overseas where I knew not a soul apart from my family really forced us to grow closer. Plus, they are just awesome.

My best best friend is (warning: cliché ahead!) definitely Mike, since we do just about everything together, we share everything, and see eye-to-eye on most things. And he makes me laugh almost daily.

3. What’s your daily makeup routine?

I usually only wear makeup when I’m going to work, and it always involves concealer, blush, eyelash curling, mascara, and black eyeliner. If I’m feeling especially tired or blotchy, I’ll throw on some primer and tinted moisturizer. I do my makeup while pumping. Multi-tasking at its finest! Pre-Gabe, I didn’t have to wear makeup daily, but motherhood? Makes you look tired, yo. Hence the need for industrial strength concealer.

4. What is your ideal girl’s night?

I am pretty much a homebody, so I’d opt for a girls’ night in. The Wii (Mario Party, Mario Kart, or WiiFit Plus), pizza, cheesy popcorn, some fruity drinks, and cookie dough. Junk food and video games, with lots of reminiscing and chatting.

Or, going out to dinner in cute clothes. I just love food. So, food and friends? Bliss. Since Mike is my best bestie, I miss girl time if I go too long without chatting with lady friends.

5. Do you keep up with your nails/toenails or are they au natural?

I go through phases. My toenails are typically painted, but often chipped. I never, ever painted my fingernails until the past few months, but it’s been sort of fun to steal my teenage sister’s nail polish. I love, love, love pedicures, but I don’t often get them (as in, three times in the US, ever). (Thailand and Malaysia? A different story. A cheaper story.)

6. What’s your best roommate story (assuming you had a roommate at some point in your life)?

Oh, roommates.

I had seventeen in the course of four years of college. 17. Seven. Teen. My best/worst story happened during the semester I spent in Hawaii. I lived in an apartment with three other girls, and one of them got married. At the age of 19. To a guy she’d known for five months. And they both lived with us, while he was getting a raise for being married (military dude) and paying us nada and using our towels and not sharing ice cream (just a bite! We’re paying for your rent!) Then they got a puppy. A puppy and five people in a tiny, tiny apartment. A puppy that ruined my brand new iPod earbuds. A puppy that peed on our carpet.

I’m painfully anti-confrontational, so I just quietly fumed about it. Thankfully, another roommate told them they had two weeks to move themselves and their un-potty-trained little puppy out of our apartment.

And so they did.

After that, I figured I could handle any awful roommate situation that came my way, but thankfully, I had pretty fabulous roommates for most of college. (143 Evanston, WHAT.)

7. What’s your “go to” outfit that you wear more than anything else?

Gap dark wash Always Skinny jeans (the only pair of jeans I own, actually), flats or my brown flat boots, and a high collared shirt with a pretty pattern (or a t-shirt and cardigan with a long locket or fun scarf. I’m big on scarves.). My ‘nice’ go to outfit is a dress with a wide belt and black heels. My home outfit is yoga pants with a nursing tank.

8. Do you have a beauty secret?

If I’m being introspective and too serious: Being happy with myself, both my life and my appearance, knowing that seeking validation from others to feel interesting or attractive ultimately fails to fulfill me. Inner beauty and all that.

More practically: If I eat well and exercise, I feel better and probably look better. I also use an olive and castor oil mixture to wash my face, and it leaves it soft and it seems I’m less prone to breakouts.

9. Did you read Seventeen magazine growing up?

Well, sort of.

See, my mom actually forbade me from reading beauty magazines, saying they would lead to me feeling badly about myself. It was probably the best parenting move she ever made – not because I never read those sort of magazines or because everyone who subscribes to those magazines end up with body image disorders and unrealistic expectations. It’s just know that for me, personally, I already tend to compare myself too much to others, so it probably saved me from having any sort of eating disorder or fixation on my body and its flaws.

Even as an adult, I’ve tended to stay away from glossy beauty magazines (even magazines that tout themselves as ‘fitness’ mags), just because I’ve noticed it subconsciously makes me feel inferior and acutely aware my imperfections. These magazines make me feel like my ultimate goal is to please men, to look good, and to wear nice clothes. Not to be a strong, confident woman.

Orrr, perhaps I just take things too seriously.

All I know is that as much as I hope to have a daughter some day, I’m really, really terrified of raising a girl in this princess-y world we live in.

10. How did you learn to put on makeup?

I was in seventh grade and all of my friends were getting makeup, so I asked if I could start wearing it. My mom gave me permission when I turned 13, and my friends and younger sister showed me the way of makeup. Except, not really. I never felt (and don’t feel) that confident in my makeup skills, so I just avoided it for most of high school and college. I’ve never been the makeup junkie that many girls are, but in the past few years have started to enjoy a good Sephora trip once a year to get some overpriced pretty things that make me feel good.

But still? I don’t feel like I’m a makeup pro - or even that competent. Eye shadow completely flabbergasts me. Smoky eye? Can’t I just cake some black eyeliner for a nighttime look?

Embracing the For-No-Good-Reason Wallow.

Lorelai: I think what you really need to do today is wallow.
Rory: Wallow?

Lorelai: Oh yeah. Get back in your pajamas, got to bed, eat nothing but gallons of ice cream and tons of pizza. Don't take a shower or shave your legs or put on any kind of makeup at all. And just sit in the dark and watch a really sad movie and have a good long cry and just wallow. You need to wallow.

I am sitting here with some delicious coffee (and plenty of pumpkin spice syrup) on a lovely, quiet Friday morning. The birds are chirping, Gabe is already down for his nap, and Mike is still in bed.

And, yet, despite all this loveliness in my life, I can't help but shake a feeling of melancholy. A vague feeling of sadness or defeat. I'm not sure why that is. I was going to turn my frown upside down with a post about my (many, many) blessings...but I think I need to embrace this glumness and funk.

Perhaps it's because someone signed up for an American Express card using my email, and I keep getting emails about 'Ashley Young's credit card.' WHO IS ASHLEY YOUNG? 

Perhaps it's because I had to deal with customer service robot when calling about said card and email debacle. "What is your American Express card number?" "I don't have one." "You can't find it? Okay, we'll put you on hold while you look for it. You can also hang up and call back when you find it." Cue elevator music. "No! Argh! I said....sigh."

Perhaps it's because I feel like parts of internet sometimes remind me of the cruelty of high school students- people seem to be waiting for someone to fail or act stupid or do something wrong and  then whisper excitedly about the person. At some point, don't we outgrow snark, judgment, and gossip?

Perhaps it's because there are days I just feel like I'm not good enough. Like, who am I to think I can photograph or design? Seriously? Have you seen how many absolutely amazing blog designers and photographers are out there? Not to mention this little blog. There are so many poignant, witty, and talented bloggers - bloggers who make you laugh, or think, or even tear up. What the heck do I think am I doing, trying to blog? I'll never be good enough.

Perhaps it's because I spilled an ounce of breastmilk in my purse at work and now my wallet, purse, and keys are coated in dried milk. Ew. (Pumping mamas? You understand what a travesty even an ounce of spilled milk is, am I right?)

Perhaps it's because for the first time in our marriage, we're not planning on moving after a year and I'm not sure what to do with my ninja packing skills this summer. (See also: probably why I'm on a major minimalism spree. Nothing is safe! I'm talking to you, entire closet.)

Perhaps it's because I have been wanting to bake and mail cookies to some people who are in need of a hug for about a month now and still have yet to buy chocolate chips to make these yummies (I am incapable of keeping a bag of chocolate chips in the kitchen without slowly nibbling away at them. Spoonful of peanut butter with a little handful of chocolate chips? Yes, please.) I am great at thinking of nice things to do, but not so good in the execution. In this case, it's not really the thought that counts. Shall I email someone and say, "Hey! I'm so sorry about your tough time. I wanted to send you cookies but I just can't seem to make the time. Let's say I did."

Perhaps it's because Gabe seems to be hungrier lately and is frustrated with me at bedtime since my flow is slower. I'm not sure what is going on, but I don't like it. Get it together, body.

Perhaps it's because we're doing the 30 Day Shred, and I'm already dreading it today. My death certificate will read: cause of death: level two, day three. I just know it. (Hey, wait. Maybe working out is linked to less milk? Welp. Better stop working out, right? I'll take one for the team.)

Perhaps it's because I burned my finger so badly (due to a act of amazing stupidity in which I forgot that I had just boiled water on the burner and touched the burner) that it's all hard and gross.  Lots of layers of dead skin. Ew. I'd go to the doctor, but, well, our insurance isn't the greatest.

Perhaps it's because I feel bad for even writing about things that are making me blue when I know I have so many wonderful things in my life.

Etsy, Starbucks, and a Shiny New Job!

Well. It's been an unexpectedly interesting few days around here. I interviewed, got, and negotiated a higher pay for a new part-time job and gave my two-weeks notice at Starbucks in the last 48 hours. It's a perfect job for me right now: double the pay, 20 hours a week, flexible scheduling, and weekends, holidays, and summers off.  Plus, it's at a high school, so it lines up nicely with my experience thus far.

I'm sad to leave my fun coworkers and endless supply of delicious beverages, but I am excited for this new adventure! It's really an amazing find - in my 'field,' fits around my schedule, and only 20 hours a week. I'll still have time to pursue my creative endeavors - which are keeping me fairly busy right now. I'm designing four blogs, two wedding invitations, two custom greeting card orders, and have booked my first photography gig, a trash the dress session! I'm so, so excited, you guys.

Since I had a little job update, I figured I'd answer some of the job-related questions I got from this post.

I want to know more about your Starbucks job and how you like working and being a full time mommy too. I bring my 3 month old to work with me so most days I think I have the best of both worlds but some days are harder than others.

Starbucks isn't a bad job for a mom, since I can plan my schedule around Mike's availability - which makes child care an non-issue. I have a lot to say about the job itself - the good, bad, and the ridiculous. That will be a post on its own. Bottom line: It's a fun job and involves a lot of caffeine. But also, some demanding customers. Being a part-time working mom is a great balance for me. I have something to do and contribute to outside of motherhood, but still spend most of my time with Gabe. I absolutely love it.

tell the truth: with all the talk about budgets and frugal living and working for little pay at starbucks, i'd be curious to know if you guys are getting financial help from your parents.

At first, I was quite offended by this question. Mike and I worked so hard to save money last year, and make a lot of sacrifices to be able to work less now that we have Gabe. I don't just talk about living simply on my blog because it upholds some sort of image I want to project. Living simply is far from glamourous, actually. It involves more cooking and less eating out; more staying home and less meeting friends for dinner. We have one car. We don't have cable. Or even Netflix (except this free trial. Woo!) We don't have smartphones. We can't purchase many non-essential items at Target anymore. We can't buy Gabe every cute toy and outfit we'd like. We end up eating beans and rice at the end of the month.

I don't say all of this because I want sympathy or to feel proud of what we've given up. It's just that I'd hate for anyone to get the impression that I'm touting living with less as some sort of fun and exciting fad. Though, for all that we can't do, there is so much that we can. And that is why, for us, we'd rather work less and live more.

We haven't asked for any help from our parents at all, to answer your question. Though, we certainly wouldn't be in this position without our parents' generosity - we both were able to go to college with help from our parents, and my parents provide our (free!) childcare when we need it. Not to mention the wonderful gifts we recieved from them this year. We are blessed with wonderful parents, but parents who know that we are responsible with money and are financially independent adults.

For how long do you plan to work at Starbucks - a year, two years, three years?

I had no plan, which tends to be the way I navigate my life. When I first took the job, I wasn't sure if I'd be there for a month or several years - my career has been fluid and changing as opportunities come along. I wasn't looking for another job, but something came along!

Do you make enough money doing etsy transactions to make it worth your while? I'm a mom of two (the youngest is exactly Gabe's age I think!) and am thinking of starting an etsy shop. I knit and craft banners and things but am wondering if it's realistic

A great question! I opened my Etsy shop since November of 2008, and it's been such a joy to create for it. I've enjoyed a fairly steady stream of business, but it's definitely on a small scale and I probably am guilty of underpricing my goods. For me, I enjoy it enough to keep it open, despite the fact that I don't earn a viable income from it. I love how I can explore my ideas and create new products to sell, especially because most of the products I designed. (Like my thank you cards, hobo bag, makeup pouches, coffee sleeves, and coasters - they were all created because I wanted them for myself!) I've mentioned before that I'm always busy with a million different creative pursuits, so my little shop might be abandoned some day in favor of more time to photograph or design, but for now? I'll happily sew and make jewelry for my little audience. (If you want to discuss exact numbers, I'd be happy to talk to you via email! Etsy also has lots of great resources for getting started. Go for it!) 

Twenty-Seven & Twenty-Eight.

How far along? 28 weeks, 2 days. Twelve more weeks left! Though a friend and a cousin both recently had their babies five weeks early which freaks me out completely – because then I could have a baby in SEVEN WEEKS. Woah. Slow down.

How big is baby? Somewhere around two-and-a-half pounds and nearly sixteen inches long.

Total weight gain: +16 lbs. Pretty sure it's all in my stomach (and maybe a little in my upper arms, which I don't want to talk about), which I used to my advantage yesterday when trying to get Mike to go for a walk. As in, "Mike, can YOU imagine carrying sixteen extra pounds in your stomach? How can you not go on a walk with me?"

Maternity Clothes? How about maternity SHOES? I had to get a pair of sandals to wear to work since my feet are…getting bigger or swelling or something. Pretty. In maternity wear, stretchy (non-maternity) skirts and scarves are my favorite things as of late. Happily, school is nearly out, so I can dress even more casually at work soon. (i.e.: Stop wearing the same two pairs of “dress” pants.)

Stretch marks? Still none!

Sleep: I’ve started getting up for a nightly pee. … Gosh, pregnancy makes me willing to share odd things. Sorry, friends. Honestly, though, it’s not too bad and I fall back asleep fairly easily.

Movement: He's almost never NOT moving. We’re in the process of interviews at work, and it is pretty difficult to focus on asking and listening to questions when it feels like something is trying to claw its way out of your stomach. He is ridiculously active, almost to the point where I’m considering Googling, “Can a fetus move too much?”

Food cravings: Although I’m sure it’s disappointing to those who like to ask The Most Popular Question Ever for Pregnant Women (along with, “Do you know what you’re having?” “What are you naming him?” and “How are you feeling?”), I don’t have any exciting answers for what I am craving. I drink mostly water and I’m eating pretty normally, with a few more indulgences (frozen yogurt and Lucky Charms) and more attention to my protein and nutrient intake.

What I miss: Not being under hawk-eyed watch by every single person I ever see. I really do appreciate the concern that I’m not able to walk down stairs without tripping, but it makes me feel like you think I’m an idiot!

What I am looking forward to: Having time to get ready for moving and baby and going for more walks. School is out for the summer! I still work, but fewer days a week, which means more time for exploring this so-called ‘nesting’ thing that seems to be so popular with pregnant women.

Milestones: THIRD TRIMESTER. WHAT. OMG. There is a “good chance” that the baby would survive if it was born now. Crazy. I got my first cloth diapers as a gift, which brings my total baby items to: a diaper bag, three cloth diapers, a few blankets, a few outfits, a few books, an infant carrier, and a few toys. A few more onsies and diapers, a car seat, a stroller, and a place to sleep and we’re good to go for the first few months! Or…something like that.

Another example of using non-maternity clothes on a big, fat pregnant belly - most sundresses are perfect. It's great.

Oh, and THIS: My entire body is ridiculously itchy.

I feel like I haven’t gotten to many life updates around my little ol’ blog. All I have to say is: Expecting your first child is overwhelming and exciting. Expecting your first child, moving, and your husband starting a PhD program in the same summer is just plain crazy. We’re pretty much little stressballs right now, trying to figure out if we’re going to live near my work or his (an hour apart) and how often I will work and who will take care of our child and whether we should buy a second car (I cringe even writing that) and whether we’d prefer to live somewhere uber-suburban and near the babysitter (my mom) or live somewhere more walkable but farther from the babysitter (thus complicating commutes). Can you begin to understand why I feel like my head might explode with options? Oh, and we have 2.5 weeks until we plan on moving our lease ends. Um. Oops?

I also have to figure out whether I’ll be changing midwives/hospitals if we move and find a pediatrician and figure out our health insurance after the baby is born and make decisions about vaccines and circumcision and read as much about childbirth and breastfeeding as I possibly can…

*BOOM*

That was the sound of my head exploding.

It's Complicated. Or, Maybe I'm Just Paranoid.

“If only she could control her children. They are wild.”

“He’s so undisciplined. And you know why? His mother is never home.”

“She never leaves her kids, so they are attached to her and don’t deal well with others.”

With raised eyebrows and hushed tones.

Judgment. So much judgment.

I knew that parenthood would make me vulnerable to others’ suppositions and opinions about my abilities as a parent, but I didn’t realize it would start so soon. Parents, particularly mothers, are judged by the product of their parenting – their children. There is a bit of truth in this, of course, but who wants to feel as though they are constantly being scrutinized and evaluated?

Of course I am afraid I won’t be good enough. Of course I am afraid of screwing up. Of course I am afraid of making the wrong decision. Do I need others watching and waiting for me to falter, nodding knowingly to each other, “Well, you know, she was always a bit too sensitive/lenient/picky/strict/insert-inadequacy-here.”? No. I am anxious and paranoid enough for myself, thank you. I know my shortcomings and know I’m imperfect. Chances are, I will yell at my kid in public once or twice. I will lose my patience. He will run around a crowded restaurant one day, or at least scream loudly enough to elicit stares of judgment. And guess what? I have no control over whether he’ll cry on an airplane. I wish I did – no one wants to be on an airplane with a crying baby.

I’ve only dealt with this a bit as a pregnant woman –there are judgments from others when I drink my coffee, eat Brie (it’s the unpasteurized cheese you can’t eat!), enjoy a sip of wine, or take a Tylenol for the pounding headaches I used to get as a result of crazy hormones. I’ve been asked if I’ve taken my vitamin and why I am so pale. I get badgered about being a vegetarian while pregnant. It’s sort of odd, to have people pay attention to what I’m doing with my body. Suddenly people have opinions about what I should and shouldn’t be doing. No one used to notice what I ate, drank, or did (aside from my favorite: “Are you getting enough protein?”) before they knew I was pregnant.

Next, there will be decisions about labor, birth, vaccines, circumcision, sleeping, and feeding. Each side of every decision is so weighted. Everyone has an opinion. Some people rave about attachment parenting, others decry it. Some moms tell me not to be a hero, get an epidural; others tell me I can do it without, that it’s better without. Some say babies should sleep in a co-sleeper; others say get the baby in its own room as soon as possible.

Here’s the thing – I want to hear all the opinions, get advice, and learn about others’ experiences - I just take it all to heart. I have a tendency to care too much what others think of me and my decisions, so this doesn’t bode well for suddenly being thrust into a position where people are prone to judge you. Maybe I am over-thinking things. Maybe those around me will be supportive and kind and trust my decisions. Maybe I will have confidence in my decisions and won’t care if others raise their eyebrows behind my back.

As a bystander, though, it doesn’t appear to be the case. Both online and offline, judgment about other women abounds. It saddens me, because the media is already pretty tough on women. Unrealistic expectations are hoisted upon us– we should look gorgeous all the time, lose baby weight immediately, and be able to juggle it all. If we don’t, our husbands might leave us and our kids will be irrevocably harmed. The least we can do is support each other, ladies. We’re all doing our best.