Tuesday, March 30, 2010

We've graduated to poultry!!

At 34 weeks, your baby is the size of a small roasting chicken!

With knees or feet up in my ribs, Fancy feels a little bit more like a Thanksgiving Turkey- ick.

I'm starting to get uncomfortable- and I'm trying to remain optimistic. But it's getting pretty tough. Yesterday I spent about 30 minutes organizing all of our baby goods and I was out of breath with a VERY sore back by the end of it. I'm not one to ask for help or complain but it's pretty funny- Todd's starting to give me the hairy stink eye when he thinks I'm going to try and rearrange some furniture or move things around. I'm concerned he's going to shoot me with a horse tranquilizer if I don't settle down... I'm trying to be good too- he said on Saturday night he'd take the laundry basket downstairs for me. I saw this morning that it was finally done (thanks to me pushing it in the way of the staircase so he'd notice it.)

I also canceled my yoga class for the first time last night. I don't feel bad- just a little iffy and this isn't some run of the mill leg cramp that I would usually just push through...I feel like such an adult... blerch. To balance that feeling out, Todd and I had some of our left overs for dinner- I made TWO kielbasa and cheese trays for the shower- so we had that for dinner. We're basically swimming in cheese. 

I realized last night while organizing baby stuffs that I should've taken pictures of the house before the shower...since it would be the LAST time my house would be clean and free of children clutter. Bitter sweet, eh? Awesome though. Everyday feels like Christmas waiting for Fancy Pants to join us.

Recently, I've been having a bit of name anxiety- I want this kid to have a cool name. This feeling was compounded when a friend of mine was all, "I can't wait to hear what you name this kid- you and Todd are so quirky it can't NOT be cool/unique/different." Eeek! Talk about pressure. We've previously decided on both a boy and girl name...but now I'm having second thoughts. No offense Ma, but I don't want something plain and tall like Sarah. Or a sofa king like Todd. 

I hope the finger of God reaches down and touches my brain with inspiration for a name (and while He's at it, I'd REALLY like him to give me the ability to control the rain. I've had enough.)

Todd and I are playing hooky on Fridee and going to the beach (really just him playing hooky, I have off.) Get ready for bathing suit pics of me...and stories of Mack and Manco's. How better to celebrate Good Friday than with sunshine and pizza. 

Jake the Snake is coming home- say some prayers he behaves himself and doesn't need to take a THIRD ambulance ride- also friends, in lieu of those events, I'm infant CPR certified so rest assured when you leave your brood with me- they're in good hands. 

Game at Immaculata today. In the rain. 

Friday, March 26, 2010

Where Waldo is?

Grilled cheese is delicious. I just had the Lenten special at school- tomato soup, grilled cheese, pickles.


I was going to have Chinese for lunch but the father of my unborn baby also wants to have Chinese today...so we're having it for dinner.

Speaking of T-Bone, I've spent some time with my sister here and there this week and gotten to see her and Big Todd hold my nephew, their baby, Jacob (say some prayers, btw, homeboy has been in and out of CHOP because he likes the attention and taking rides in ambulances) and gotten to see that he looks BOTH like Lauren AND Big Todd. A really nice combo. 

For some fun, I played around with morphthing.com and got a glimpse of our baby. 

Nice specs, kid. 

I have nothing to report. I've have a quiet week. Yesterday a local 8th grade lacrosse team came out to my team's practice (some of them were better than my kids!?!) I had to prep my squad by reminding them to think of their perception of college kids when they were in 8th grade...I don't know about the rest of yous but I thought they were magical, mature people that I would NEVER grow into. It's funny what perception does to and for people.

It comes at a nice time too. We're struggling with wins and losses and I was STUCK in coach land yesterday because my team is sitting at 2-6 and the squad who we're playing tomorrow is 4-0. I was really upset convinced that by playing tough teams I'm setting them up for failure... Just looking at those numbers one might suspect that team is MUCH better than my team...but take a look at those wins- who are they against? What's the margin of victory? Are they playing the 500lb gorilla or the Little Sisters of the Poor? (Guess what, it's the latter!!!!) Jerks. 

One thing they do have: swagger- something my squad is ENDLESSLY searching for. 

So what's the point of this post? Nada. Dunno. Back to the drawing board to try and find the spark.

Monday, March 22, 2010

A lesson in DENIM.

**I've made all the links so you can open them in a new window and not have to flip back and forth. You're welcome.**

I caught the first ten minutes of Wendy this morning. I'm a huge fan.

I know, I know. She has questionable taste. Some think she's in drag. Whatever. I happen to like that she's a little rough around the edges and that's enough for me.

So this morning during hot topics, she was having a tough time adjusting herself in her chair- in her JEGGINGS and it got me to thinking about a whole slew of problems denim has caused (aside from the obvious problems of yeast infections when pants are too tight. Same problem in males? I call it a moose knuckle.)

There are so many other fashion offenses that denim is able to cover for us- many of my faves listed below:

Pageboy Jhat (also pictured, the Canadian Juxedo.)
Buttless Jhaps

What I find so funny about this all is many of these offenses can be seen in this book: Undateable. I might buy it for a laugh. Every man in Delco with a goat or a chinstrap should read up.

Similar note: If you haven't heard yet, Todd and I are celebrating our 30th birthday this July- we've decided to take our appreciation of denim to a whole new level but having a jort party. PLEASE let me know if you find baby sized jorts. There's nothing I like more than diaper butt and jorts.

I TOTALLY forgot about this mess.


I'm pondering my next move. When I was in college and finishing my student teaching, my cooperating teacher, right after I finished my last observation said to me, "Sarah, don't go into teaching. It's a load of crap. You have a command on the English language. You should go to law school and make some real money."

It's advice that's haunted me since and now after finishing my Master's degree (18 months of jumping through hoops, if you ask me) I'm thinking about it.

Do I want to be a lawyer? Nope.

I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up...but there's something about being able to say, "oh, yea, I have one of those [law degrees] " that I find alluring and romantic.

We'll see.


BELLY IS MONSTROUS. 33 weeks, 2 days. I'm reconsidering yoga class. I'll probably teach it because I'm a sucker.

Gram's computer is back up and running. She was complaining that pages were asking her for her password again. Turns out...the internet chord wasn't plugged in! Oh, Grandmom. I've gotten three emails from her since. She's cute.

Another gram story- usually, she pays EVERYONE for services rendered. When we try to argue that we're her grandchildren and that's just what good grandchildren should do, she gets MAD. Turns bright red, yells, etc. She had a pacemaker put in. She's in NO condition to be all upset so normally we stop arguing after the first refusal. Also, she's been planning her death for some time now- giving away all sorts of things so people don't fight over them- also, it ensures that the "right" people get the "right" things.

When she was in the hospital some time ago she was talking crazy- telling us all sorts of stories so I wasn't taking too much of what she said seriously...but apparently the going rate on plugging your grandmother's computer back into the wall is...her engagement ring. I'll love it more than she'll ever know.

Lastly- Todd and I spend some time in DC this weekend. He ran his first marathon. PLEASE read his blog about it- it's a little lengthy but basically sums up why I married him: HE'S NUTS

Time to make the dernuts.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Noooooobody puts Baby in the corner...

What a 180 from how I felt yesterday.

My lacrosse team is falling apart, I'm nearing 33 weeks of pregnancy and my shirts were starting to bear my midriff. Today, I got to hear my baby's heart beating at a chill rate of 140bpm, I got a 6+ shirts and a few tanks, a diap bag and A PAIR OF WHITE JEANS from the Gap Outlet at 15th and Walnut and stopped by Lush on my way back out.

In retrospect, I think the funk that I've been in all week (aside from getting my ass handed to me at work) was because I haven't worn my white jeans for about eight months. In the summer of 2003, I bought a pair of white jeans. I was warned that I wouldn't be able to wear them much longer as Labor Day was approaching. I flicked my fingers across my chin to the critics and wore those pups ALL WINTER LONG and pretty much twice a week until a wore a hole in the crotch (and shhhhh, a little longer than I should have after that. What can I say? I ooze class.)

From time to time I remember the assignment that middle school teachers dish out to their students- the Day in the Life Of an inanimate object, usually a pencil or a shoe. This helps students explore personification (and if you really want to talk about a life lesson- putting the the writer in someone else's shoes.) If I were to write a Day in the Life Of about these pants- it would go a little something like this:


They were my go-to-sexy-time pants. They matched EVERYTHING. They were the perfect length. I have the long leg, tall girl disease so most pants are at that annoying-don't-fit-length but these cut off right above the ankle. Although I couldn't wear them with heels- they looked perfect with my go-to footwear- the flip flop.

I felt like Baby in them.

I was devastated when I had to retire them- I didn't even throw them away for a month or two after I made the decision I couldn't wear them any more. Of course, I was TRILLED to find in 2007 when Target came out with Old Navy's 2003 line and called it their Converse line. I bought a new pair. And then another. With two, I could rotate them in the wash rather than run around the house in my underwear (did I mention that I was on a strict thong-only undies phase from 1999 until 2007? There I go again with the class...) waiting for them to come out of the dryer.

I was in the Gap Outlet this morning after dropping Todd off at 30th Street for his trek to DC for his first marathon tomorrow- and saw them: white maternity jeans. I always cringe whenever I look at the price tag at jeans in the Gap- but yesterday I was in such a mood that I would've been happy to name Fancy Pants after whoever would pull me out of it. I had a 30% off coup so it eased his pain.

Twelve hours later and I'm feeling great. I'm certain it's the white jeans.

Riggings Swayze Kurpel it is!

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

I've turned into THAT wife.

I talk about my husband all the time- but I just realized I rarely refer to myself as a wife. I think it's mostly because of the stereotypical or conventional wifey rituals and actions that come along with wife-dom (nagging, house keeping, more nagging, etc) that I want to steer away from. Two (or is this a list of three or four?) of the best things about my husband- he's probably the smartest, most witty and funniest person I know and he has really nice calves (that I pray our children will inherit.)

One of the areas where we will continue to work: his attention to detail. He literally does. Not. See. Things. Like, seriously. I sat down at the computer the other day (which is by the window with the plants on it- a notoriously filthy area of the house- we have four cats, their interest in the windows + plants = little dirty cat paw prints everywhere.) He sits there working on his course work for his PhD daily. I sat down there briefly the other day to see FILTH. FILTH!!!
I asked him, "come sit here. Tell me what you see." He thought it was a trick question. He told me about the computer, the printer, the windows, Dieter, the cat, a few other things on the table. I said, "Do you see all of the dirt on the table?"

"No. Oh. Wow. Yea, that's gross."

Me, turning purple with fury from the ground up, "I'm mad but I'm glad that the problem is that you don't NOTICE the dirt and it's not that you hate cleaning and you want us to live in squalor. Now clean that shit up."

Yesterday we went to the grocery store. Usually I go alone but I can't really lift groceries by myself without getting exhausted and last time I went alone I nearly pulled an oblique from steering the cart. I took the opportunity to swing down the stationary aisle and I asked Todd which post it note color was his favorite, or which would stand out the most to him. He chose the neon collection...and this morning I, er the dishwasher, got to work leaving him two love notes (see one below.)

I'm that wife. Whatever, I need help at home- as long as this shit gets done, we'll be cool.

The good news is we've become that couple- Todd and I were talking about the girls basketball team he coaches and their parents and their (lack of) parenting skills. One of his players came to practice one day with a Phillies tee shirt that simply stated, "Yank This" on it. Real nice. I remember him telling me about it the night it happened and I suggested he keep his opinions to himself in this case. He brought it up again yesterday because the other day at team pictures, Todd was lucky enough to meet the parents of this little lady, [about the parents] "Sweetie, I'm glad I didn't say anything, I think that dude would've kicked my ass if I did. The mom too." He paused for a few seconds, "when did I turn into a lame dad?" I sat quietly and smiled.

So we're growing up, I suppose.

I had a rough day yesterday- I had a serious case of being stuck in CoachLand after our game that when Lauren texted me this: "Me and the Denneys are going to sit out on the stoop to smoke cigarettes and drink Coors Lights if you're bored."
I was really put off by this (being in my eighth month of pregnancy and all) and replied, "That doesn't sound very fun for me. Thanks though."
Her reply, "I was joking. It's illegal for babies to drink alcohol. I thought you might want to stop by and see your niece and her brother."
"Oh, sorry, really bad day."

I need to lighten up.

I'm taking a step in the right direction by following RuPaul's advice (why do I love taking the advice of flamboyant black wo/men?) that EVERYONE needs to keep up their manicure. It's a sign of self awareness and care. So I'm typing about my "problems" painting one nail at a time at my desk.

Every time I look down at them, I smile. It looks nice.

It's going up to 65 degrees today. I wish my window opened.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Hearing the crack of a can helped...

My dad didn't think I was cut out to be a college coach. He didn't see that his little girl who used to throw up in trash cans on the side lines of the Drexel Hill Middle School track before CYO meets could handle the pressure of coaching professionally. I was so nervous to run. I knew I was slow and I hated losing. It was a pretty stressful situation for a 12 year old. You know what I've learned? Those who can't do (well enough to be the best), teach. Or in this case, coach.

We got our asses beat today. This is the perfect storm of a season- only goalie is out with a concussion and four or five of the twelve players who have skill are injured. Another got hit in the head with a shot today. It's been bad- and it's only getting worse.

I don't remember the score exactly but it was something like bad guys: mid twenties- good guys: high single digits. It was so annoying. Worst part? Dick head male coach was pressuring my goal keeper on our defensive clears- after they were up by 12, 13, 14, 15+ goals. I called a time out to tell my squad something to the affect of "look, they're a bunch of a-holes just keep playing hard, and don't do anything stupid like get ejected, etc."

Dad was a little off. I know I'm cut out to be a coach. What I'm not sure I'm cut out for is figuring out how to get them to take the reigns and figure it out on their own. I DEFINITELY think I'd be better able to get through the season if I could drink a damn beer.

I'll probably edit this tomorrow. I'm blerrrrging from my telephone.


Email secured by Check Point

Friday, March 12, 2010

I can't concentrate.

Here are some 31 week, 5 day pics.

I'm happy to see my hip tattoo has not stretched out...yet...but since I can only see it when I look in the mirror, I've stopped keeping tabs on it. Any attempts of landscaping below the waste are 100% by touch- as I've completely lost sight of my belly button and everything below it unless I sit.And since I don't have one of those old-folk shower chairs...it's how I've been rolling these days. 

Also, if you notice the sheen on my belly, it's Beachcomber Bud's Coconut oil. I use it religiously. Still no stretch marks. 

HA- Fancy- remember when you were this little?

How about when this happened?

Man, kid- you've grown. And, let's have a talk- enough with the rib kicking- like, for serious. I thought it was pretty funny this morning when I noticed a ticking in my BUTT. Yep- felt your hiccups in my BUTT. I'm sure you have a whole slew of tricks you're waiting to play on me. Can't wait to stay home for two months so we can get acquainted in the outside world. 

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Name anxiety.

Why can't I remember people's names?

I was getting onto the bus today and introduced myself to the driver- she told me her name, Sue, I think and now we're on our way to our game.

I sure hope it's Sue, at least, because that's what I've been calling her since.

What's that name self-doubt feeling all about? Why can't I focus for the ten seconds it takes to exchange formalities? The only reason I can come up with is being too busy or self absorbed. I hope it's the former.


Fancy is protesting the Indian I had for lunch.
Email secured by Check Point

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

I caught the worm.

I had a terrible night sleep. After being handed a second loss in a row, I was really beating myself up about my lacrosse team. What am I doing wrong? What could I be doing better? What else do they need?

I had to get up early today to get my car to Toyota to fix the sunroof (and it's fixed and I can't WAIT to get it back and ride around with my hair whipping around in the wind.) Since I couldn't sleep anyway I figured I'd be a little mad at myself if I did get up to do my morning yoga routine that usually is saved until the 7 or 8 o'clock hour. So I got up and me and Kurt Johnson got to work. Today's class was to channel anxieties and frustrations. Couldn't be more timely.

I was able to quell the lump in my throat put there last night during my game via some deep breathing, stretching and grounding techniques and get the day underway.

I generally don't get to work before 9:30. I'm here late at night and on the weekends so as far as I'm concerned, there's no need. But since TBone was dropping me off at Toyota and then chauffeuring me to work, I was at the mercy of his clock. I got to work at 8:15...and now I'm done my work- and not rushing out to the field. Instead, I'm sitting calmly at my desk getting prepared for practice.

Not being rushed = productivity.

Presentation tonight at 6:30pm. Master's Degree will be complete a half hour after that (except for my exit interview but all the work for that is complete, so I'm considering it a done deal.)


Tuesday, March 9, 2010


A few years ago on a REAL hot day, Todd and I were living in Media and I decided to meet him on his walk home from the train up to our apartment. I stopped by Rita's and timed it perfectly- I caught him pissed off, walking up the steep hill that is Orange Street on possibly the hottest day in the record of Earth, pulled over, leaned on the horn and SCREAMED out the window, "SWWEEEEETTTIE!!!! WANT SOME RIIIIIIIIIIITAS?!?" in the most annoying voice I could belt out.

It's been a *hilarious* joke we've shared since- Rita has even been in and out of the running for Fancy's for-real name as well. Dad's veto'd it. I like it.

Why the story? I'm enjoying my first Gilati of the season, that's why! I think I had some Rita's later in the summer but the last water ice I definitely remember enjoying was at Kelly's wedding. It was starting to get later in the night and Kelly's brother's water ice was just busted out and I decided that putting three ounces of Malibu in mine was the way to do. Guess what? IT WAS!

Other Spring type things happening:

I'm wearing flip flops for the third day this week.

I'm taking LB (Little Black, my ride) to have the sunroof fixed tomorrow- it isn't doing the thing it was born to do: open. I was given a bit of grief from an old friend who lives in his car about the subject: "so wait, this is the second car you have that you've installed an after market sunroof in and the third car in a row that you insisted have a sunroof?" "Uh, whatever dude. Don't judge me, you live in a car. On purpose."

Otherwise, not a ton except for work, work, work.

BUT (and this is a BIG BUT) I'd be remiss if I didn't mention my friends in this here little blog post.

Possibly one of the coolest, most special things happened to me this weekend. A week or two ago, my friend Kelly Confetti asked what days I had free before Fancy arrived. I wasn't given any other details except that I should leave this past Sunday wide open- they were kidnapping me and that was about it.

I was so busy with Spring Break with my team and work that I didn't even have a second to speculate what we'd be getting into. I mentioned to Todd that morning, that as long as their plans wouldn't include LONG hours putzing around a boring museum seven months pregnant, I was in and I was excited. (Todd assured me my friends knew my likes and dislikes and they probably weren't out to torture me- he was correct.)

I was haaaa-whisked away from my residence around noon to be taken down town to Center City Philadelphia with my buds where they wined and dined me, got me a pedicure, made me a fancy little hat for my belly, showered me with gifts and basically brought me down memory lane to places where my husband, the father of my unborn child, got to know each other.

It made me feel real special. And I've got some ahh-sum friends. Pictures:

325 Spruce- Dad's Apartment

Crepes for lunch!

Gettin' our toes did at Nail Bar.

Fancy shark attack shirt from Born Yesterday.

Magic Garden and Fancy Mirrors. 

A VERY Fancy Hat for a very Fancy baby.

Mom, Fancy, the Fancy Brigade.

Mom and Dad's meeting spot/first date on September 6, 2005: Dollar Dog Night when the Phils lost to the Astros

If you don't have friends that are like mine, I suggest you get some. Make a girl feel real special and super awesome and I can't wait to return the favour*.

*British spelling.

Saturday, March 6, 2010

I wish I was a little bit meaner.

...in fact, I wish I were a LOT meaner (oh, yea and could tune out this pesky conscience when needed.)

I want to give people the finger who cut me off and not be fearful that the driver who I just flipped off is wielding a machete and might chase me down.

I want to tell people what I really think when they complain to me- "Yea, I don't care- they probably dumped on you because you take their shit" or "yea, enough about you, back to me."

I want to be tougher on my squad (we got handed and old-fashion ass whoppin' earlier today) and when they gripe and complain or throw up from too many sprints, tell them to go scratch -this is college and it's just what we do.

When someone comes into my office to ask questions (because they didn't read the thorough and detailed email I already sent them on the topic) I want to put my fingers in my ears and yell, "LA LA LA, I'M NOT LISTENING" and if they still don't get the hint, I want to throw my coffee at them. Or my plant. Or both.

Today's Highlights:

Todd and I put our infant car seat bases in our whips today. It was suspiciously easy. Makes me wonder if they're in properly.

I got to wear flip flops all day since it was above 50 degrees.

Streak of ordering awesome stuff off of menus continues with a roast beef special from Brother's in Drexie.

I'm a presentation away from my crap Master's Degree (Master's of Science in Strategic Leadership- MBA minus all of the finance.)

Today's Gripes:

I'm the only person who gets sunburn on her feet in 50 degree weather.

My sunroof is broken.

Would've been an awesome day for the Philly Beerfest and/or Delco Express.

I'm a presentation away from my crap Master's Degree (Master's of Science in Strategic Leadership- MBA minus all of the finance.)

Thursday, March 4, 2010

I'm totally in the weeds.

...look it up.

I don't have time to write. BUT- is this not the cutest/funniest picture of a little baby with bat arms ever?

Caitlin, watching the Phillies beat the Yankees in a meaningless (and yet still gratifying) preseason game.

Monday, March 1, 2010

Fancy is no trick pony.

Every time I feel my belly going all alien and moving around, I pull up my shirt to try and watch the show. And then Fancy stops.

Do you not like the cold, sir/ma'am?

Are you just modest?

I know, just like mom, you're no one's trick pony.

This ain't no pony show, lady.