On Facebook (Who Knew I Was so Far Behind?!)

The Kid: Can we have some fruit? Because we didn't have fruit all day long!
Me: What kind of fruit do you want?
The Kid: Doritos!


The Kid: Mama, what do babies do?
Me: They eat, poop, cry, and sleep.
The Kid: They eat poop? I don't think we should have a baby.

Dear BYU,

Please find an offense. Like before next week.

Thanks a mil,
Erin

 

It's a good thing I'm Mormon or else I'd be a raging (and probably continuously broke) alcoholic. Pina coladas have got to be the most delicious drink on the planet.

Since a name for this baby is still up in the air, we've been watching a lot of football to get some ideas. Front runners so far: Quayvon, Nyquilla, and Vysavian. Get you some.


Getting the birthday celebration started out right with a trip to Waffle House (I mean really, could we BE more classy?) In other news, I walked into the bathroom to find The Kid with her head in the toilet (hair literally touching the water) and when I told her to get out she said, "Why? I'm just smelling it!"

The Kid while "helping" me make frosting, "Oh, dear. This smells so delicious!"


The Kid is quite pleased that today is my birthday and therefore UNLIMITED CUPCAKES! This party's gonna be off the hook!


Sooo...nothing like a birthday where the cops are called. As I was sitting outside my client's house waiting for her to come home, someone reported me, yes, ME for suspicious behavior/loitering.

Cop: What are you doing, ma'am?
Me: I'm waiting for my client to come home.
Cop: What kind of client would that be, ma'am?

Uh...hang on just a second. Are you insinuating that the obviously pregnant, white, Mormon girl, sitting in her car reading her kindle while worrying because the birthday cupcakes she brought her client are a melted, fat, mess, is actually here to turn tricks? Ferrill?!


Me: Dude, stop putting your toes in your mouth! For the love!
The Kid: Why? Because there's blood?
Me: You're trying to suck blood out of your toes?!
The Kid: Well, yeah, I'm a mosquito, mama.


I totally just heard on the radio that according to a recent study, people who get more sleep are considered more attractive. BAM! Take that everyone who makes fun of my go-to-bed-early- grandma tendencies!

I just love the day when my book's royalty check rolls in. McDonald's dollar menu, here we come! And this time, we're going big!


Ok, ladies, please spill your greatest getting-through-the-last-trimester-without-dying-or-killing-someone-tricks. Good grief, I'm so tired and out of patience, I feel like a monster!
The secret to being awesome at the gestational diabetes test? Knock that nasty drink back like a shot, thereby getting rid of the drink AND jumping ahead of all the drink sippers in the blood drawing line. BAM!


Getting ready to head to the pool and The Kid starts shoveling all kinds of stuff into my bag:

Me: Man! You can't take all that crap to the pool!
The Kid: I can take just a few craps?

Thank you, football gods. I can now show my face at church tomorrow. And I'll be providing complementary replays on Husband's iPad for all who missed it.


The Kid: Mama, don't you know you're my treasure?
Me: Awww! Thanks!
The Kid: Yeah, Bruno Mars teached me that.

Signs that The Kid is her father's daughter: 1. She thinks that clothes are made for wearing only OUTSIDE of the house. 2. She won't drink milk or eat watermelon. 3. She has an obsession with the remote.


The Kid comes into my room this morning wheezing like a 70-year-old COPD patient and says, "I don't feel good and apparently my throat hurts."

Guess who found TWO ENTIRE BAGS of Cadbury mini eggs in a previously forgotten stash?! That plus a snuggling kid (is it wrong that I actually like it when she's sick because then she'll hold still and love on me)?! This day probably can't get any better.


The Kid: Mama, I love you. You're my best friend ever. I will keep you forever and ever.
Me: Thanks, baby, I love you, too.
The Kid: You know what would make me feel better? Some of those black cookies with white frosting in between.

Me: I can play in a minute. If I don't finish folding these clothes, daddy might kick me out of the house.
The Kid: Don't wory, I will talk to him. Maybe he'll just spank you instead.


After reading several Victorian Era books in a row, I can see why God didn't put me on the earth at that time. Because while all that courting and stuff sounds all romantic, ain't nobody got time for that! All this mooning around! He either digs you or he doesn't. Move on, man. Also, if I'd have had to wear a corset all day, I would have been meaner than a snake.

A lady at the gym totally just rubbed my belly and started praying over it. Um. What?


Man, what I wouldn't give for a walk down an empty road in some cool, dry (read: not humid) fall air. Also, some grass to walk in bare-footed where I wouldn't have to worry about fire ants, chiggers, or broken glass. Feeling suffocated. And restless.


Again, puking first thing in the morning should exempt you from everything for the rest of the day.


Being an a responsible adult is stupid. I think I'm going to quit. Something else that's stupid? Having to buy new tires.

You know your kid's been watching too much Peppa Pig when she starts to ask about going on holiday, going to the loo, and pronouncing tomato "to-MAH-to".


The Kid: What kind of working out did you do today?
Me: I danced in my Zumba class.
The Kid: You didn't use the treadmill? Me: No, I like dancing better.
The Kid: But you'll never get tough until you use the treadmill, mama.


The Kid: HEY! Let's name the baby Lemon!
Me: We're not rich or famous enough to name a kid after fruit, dude.
The Kid: Well, what about Lemon Drink? No, Pink Lemon Drink!


You know, I don't consider myself a feminist by any means, but I do think of myself as a strong, independent, intelligent (not to mention extremely sassy) woman who is capable of pretty much anything. That being said, NOTHING makes me feel more womanly than when I'm faced with a task that is typically "male" (like buying tires) and Husband drives down to the tire place, talks to the tire people, and sets me up with exactly what I need.

The Kid brings me the computer this morning and as she sets it down, a giant wad of play doh falls out of her hair. She says, "My hands were full so I had to hold the play doh in my hair."


After a year of eating Kroger brand Nutella, I'd convinced myself that it tasted exactly the same as the real thing. I splurged on a jar of the real stuff yesterday and it's SO NOT. In other news, The Kid asked me this morning if she'd "impressed me with her evil scheme". Who knows where that came from.

After the sacrament prayer:

Me: They're passing the sacrament now. We need to be still and think about Jesus.
The Kid: There's Cheez-Its for sacrament? This is just a really good idea.


Today I suddenly became extremely aware of another one of my social weirdnesses: I am a HUGE believer in social buffer zones. For instance, you never go in a bathroom stall right next to someone unless there's only one available. Same thing applies to treadmills. And tables at McDonald's.

When I have my own world, I'm going to make it so there are no outward signs of pregnancy. Because for some reason, a pregnant belly seems to indicate to people I've never met before that it's ok to ask me about my sex life, my plans to breast feed, and whether or not I plan to give birth vaginally. They actually said "vaginally" in a sentence.


 

The Kid: Mama, most of the time I'm just so happy you made me a genius.
Me: Really? A genius?
The Kid: Yeah, but sometimes being a genius is hard. Especially on Tuesdays.

 

 

Today after Zumba, some girl that I've literally never set eyes on before came up to me:

Her: Don't you feel weird dancing like that when you're so hugely pregnant?
Me: No.
Her: Well, you don't look like a COMPLETE fool, but...
Me: (Blank stare) I don't look like a fool at all. I look awesome.

I'm still trying to decide if she was trying to give me a completely backaward compliment or a completely frontward insult.

 

 

The Kid, "Mommy, I love you. Don't you know you're pretty? Don't you know you're magical?"

 

 

My poor, poor unborn son! Today I went shopping to fill in the gaps for the few clothes he still needs. I walked out of the resale shop with two things for him and about seventeen for The Kid (who needed exactly ONE of the things I bought). Ugh. I just sooooo can't get into shopping for boys. Or like, shopping at all.

 

 

The Kid: When I get to be a growed up, Ima be like Uncle Jared.
Me: How's that?
The Kid: I want to paint cars and drive on rocks and have a really, really nice beard.


Does anyone else hear Sandman by Metallica and STILL feel just a little extra awesome? And also kind of like you want to flex in front of a mirror?


Me: Daddy's my boyfriend
The Kid: I have two boyfriends. Kyle and Elliot.
Me: Oh, you need two?
The Kid: No, I need four, but I only have two.



I think my very favorite thing about The Kid is the fact that she thinks the only option for entering a swimming pool (even a cold one) is to jump straight in. No stairs needed, thank-you-very-much.


Had a dream last night that the library was offering a new service where you could check out a man to help you learn how to kiss. I figure a lot more ladies would be fighting for library funding if that were really the case.


Two things: 1. Doing push ups in your third trimester might be the very best idea EVER. With a gut this size, you only have to push up and down like three inches. 2. Can someone please teach Les Miles how to clap so he doesn't look like a woman with wet fingernail polish?


Watching the Texas A&M game and Husband is yelling at the TV.

The Kid, "Daddy, don't talk so loud! You need to calm down."



The Kid hops in bed with me this morning and says, "Mama, I know you really miss your mama. But don't worry, she just lives in New-tah, and she will come back berry, berry soon."


Feeling extra discouraged today. Woke up and felt absolutely no desire to go to the gym. Then, when I did get there, my clothes were too small, I could barely move without huffing like a cow giving birth, and I'm pretty sure my uterus almost fell right out. And PS Exygon, I'm not a fan of the current "one towel per patron" rule.


Me: What'd you learn about today in nursery?
The Kid: Flies. I don't really like flies.
Me: You learned about FLIES?
The Kid: Yeah, the rains came down and the flies came out. Dolly said it.
Me: No, dude, the rains came down and the FLOODS CAME UP.
The Kid: No, not FLOODS. FLIES.


The most astute observation on the government shutdown comes from a former Bill Clinton advisor on CNN, "We don't want a shutdown. The shutdown is stupid." In other news, the representative from Wisconsin is a former nationally recognized professional lumberjack athlete AND was on The Real World in 1997. He's a STAR!


Dear People Who Use Parking Lots Like Roads,

I know, I know, we all like to take shortcuts. But, that doesn't give you the right to just drive willy nilly around a parking lot like an idiot. Proper traffic laws still must be obeyed. And that means yielding when appropriate, looking both ways before pulling in or out, and no honking or use of the middle finger when you're in the wrong (you big jerk).

Not Such a Fan of Yours,
Erin



The Kid to a random boy at Chick-Fil-A: Don't you want to be my friend? I'm an excellent pooper.

Then to me when it started raining: Oh, you can't be in the rain. You'll melt like a witch. And flowers will grow in my hair.


Got 5 minutes into my workout only to look down and find that I'd completely forgotten to put on my shirt. So there ya go, Exygon, you got your eyes full.


Had to use the bathroom while at the doctor's office and when we came back, our chair was gone. The Kid to the lady occupying the chair, "You know it's not nice to steal our place. You need to move right now!"


The Kid is obsessed with watercolors:

Husband: Before you start painting, can I have a sugar?
The Kid: Daddy, I paint. You must leave me alone.


Yesterday at the doctor:

Receptionist: Can you come back on October 17th?
Me: Seems like I have something that day. Wait, no, that's the debt ceiling deadline!
Receptionist: (blank stare)
Me: You know. The debt ceiling deadline? Congress? America not paying their bills?
Receptionist: (blank stare)
Me (muttering): Never mind. Guess I've been watching too much CNN.


Dear Everyone I Work Out Next To:

I finally gave up my nasty workout shirts. So, presumably, I no longer smell like stale cat pee. Instead, pure sassiness and pharamones. AKA sweat and men's Degree deodorant. You're welcome.

Erin


The Kid: Why do we have mouths?
Me: Why do you think we have mouths?
The Kid: I use mine to taste deliciousness.


The most heart breaking and exasperating thing in the world is to have your child hurting and not know what you can do for her (because you don't actually know if she's hurt badly or just overreacting to pain...like her mother). And even worse, is explaining this fact to her over and over again.


Today I am grateful for: a husband who is completely selfless and dedicated to his family, stubborn friends who show up despite me telling them not to, and a doctor and his staff who gave up part of their lunch hour to fit us into the schedule. We are blessed!


If your idea of a great night includes trying to calm a screaming, kicking, whining 3-year-old at 3am, might I suggest trying it while pregnant and getting a walking boot to the shin every 10-15 seconds? Oh, and a couple of rousing rounds of the ABCs and a few GOOOOOO COUGARS! thrown in (because really, what else would you do at 3am?) It's kick you in the crotch, spit on your neck fantastic.


The Kid insists that her walking boot is a peg leg and that I address her as "Smee". I am to be Captain Hook, which is much better than her first suggestion of Dirty Joe.


Just when you think you've experienced all of the most awkward things in life, a strange (read: hairy and kind of stinky) man siddles up to you at McDonald's to inform you that he is NOT going to touch your pregnant belly because how awkward would THAT be, but wants to know if your baby is enjoying your mango smoothie and if the BABY would approve, he'll go ahead and purchase a freshly baked cookie for the baby immediately. Um...say what?


We are now on day three of the broken foot. The Kid still refuses to put any pressure on it and therefore, has become a crawler again. The good news for her is that she's quickly figured out that she can use it as an excuse for everything she doesn't want to do - like washing her hair or wearing clothes. More good news is that I bought her some new undies that are a size too big so she now has somewhere to store her sippy while crawling around. It's like a joey pouch.


The Kid is a big, fat faker. Wakes up whining and crying that her foot hurts and that she needs to be carried downstairs. Drop her off at gym childcare where she apparently proceeds to walk around after her "boyfriend" (for an entire hour)...as soon as I walk back in the door, she just CANNOT seem to walk anymore. Ugh. Don't you HATE it when you see the worst of yourself in your kids? Because that's totally something I would have done.


I've reached that magical part of pregnancy - where you are completely dilusional as to how big your gut is and therefore, spend 67% of the day running into things. As such, I have stains on pretty much every piece of clothing I own...just over the hump of my belly where I can't see them. I look like a slob.


The Kid: Can you get me my sippy cup?
Me: It's right there. Get up and get it.
The Kid: Did you hear my foot is broken?


The Kid has figured out how to remove her walking boot. Fan-freakin'-tastic.



The Kid as I was getting out of the shower:

The Kid: I need some soap because my floor is all crappy.
Me: What did you do, dude?
The Kid: I didn't do anything. The floor made a mess by itself.


The Kid to Husband and Me: Would you like to go to the mall with me, my little friends?


I'm sorry. Today I just really don't like 3-year-olds.


The Kid: I'm really smart.
Me: Yes, you are.
The Kid: I'm amazing smart. Daddy is amazing smart, too. And you almost are.


For my birthday, I asked for a Kindle Fire, thinking it could double as a reader for me and serve the purpose of keeping The Kid occupied in public places (like doctor's offices). Except now that I've shown her that she can use You Tube and Netflix on it, she thinks it's hers. SHARING IS STUPID!


The good news: After three times of doing Phylicia Phillips's low track to "Royals" in Zumba, I now have the strongest crotch in town (score!). The bad news: I also have the sorest crotch in town. The even worse news: I just typed "crotch" twice.


Me: Hey, what happened to your gum?
The Kid: I swallowed it into my belly.
Me: DUDE! You can't do that! It'll hurt your belly!
The Kid: And then there will be a baby in there?


Muttering under my breath because the thing I was fixing wouldn't be fixed, and this from The Kid, "You know, you should close your eyes and think of something happy. That would help."


Had a dream last night that I was on an Amazing Race team with Michelle Miller Nishida and Michelle White DeMoss and we were in the final three. The last task was to bring me a piece of Nutella toast for breakfast - but both of them decided peanut butter was healthier. Therefore, we incurred a 30 minute penalty for not following the instructions and lost the million bucks. And thus we learn that Nutella will always make you a winner.


Just hugged it out with The Yoga Instructor Extraordinaire. He said, "That baby must be coming soon. Jou look so radiant." Seriously. Just when I think I couldn't love him more, he comes up with stuff like this.


Putting The Kid to bed last night:

The Kid: Can you stay so we can snuggle and talk a little?
Me: Sure, baby. What do you want to talk about?
The Kid: I want to talk about Jesus. And monsters.


The Kid: I don't want a brother in your belly.
Me: Well, it's kinda late for that.
The Kid: You know who likes baby brothers? The gypsies.


The Kid found a little boyfriend at Chick-Fil-A who tried to give her some pretend flowers. She took them, threw them on the floor, stomped on them and yelled, "That's what I think about THAT!" Looks like she'll be just as awesome at dating as I was.


Husband was playing catch with The Kid last night:

Husband: Great catch! You're a natural!
The Kid: I sure am!

At least she's not lacking confidence...



Sometimes, it's just nice to have a family who gets excited over a dinner of chili dogs and tater tots...