A quick nugget update!
We’re 2 weeks from the due date. According to the doctor, stuff is moving along and I may not make it that long.
I will not get into specifics, but there will be pictures once the lil bugger gets here. :)
Occasionally (read: often), I see things that just make me say, “That’s trashy.” And today, I thought, “Yes–this is the perfect thing to post on my blog! People love when trashiness is called out!”
But then I realized that everything I have on my list is something I’ve seen people do in real life or on my social media sites…and that I’d be calling out my friends and people who know me. I’m trying not to be a TOTAL biatch, AND I don’t think calling people trashy in my head would be nearly as fun if the people knew I was thinking it.
So there will be no list. But chances are I’ve thought something you’ve done/said/worn has been trashy at some point in time. If it makes you feel any better, I am trashy sometimes, too. After all, I have a tramp stamp that says, “ROCKSTAR.” Not sure how much trashier it could get. ;)
Have a trashy weekend!
…my baby will be here in less than 75 days (God willing).
Know how I know I’m going to be a mom? I felt super guilty for going on one last splurge. SUPER guilty. I currently feel guilty. I’m currently considering canceling the order. I’m currently considering sending it back as soon as it gets here.
Last week, I started trying to sell two Michael Kors bags that I bought at one point in time. I liked the bags a lot. I loved them for awhile. :) But I started to see them everywhere. Then, if you’ll remember, I switched to Frye purses. I haven’t gone back since.
I pinned a Frye bag to my Pinterest board two weeks ago only to realize that I had pinned the exactly same bag 31 weeks ago. Which can only mean that I TRULY wanted this bag.
I started campaigning to Mike, my husband, to let me get the bag. He quickly shut me down and told me we had a baby coming and that it was an inordinate amount of money to spend on a damn purse. And he was right. So I started scheming…how could I get it?
Simple – sell my other purses that I don’t use anymore. And I did! I sold two Michael Kors purses on Facebook and with the Maine fund that Mike said I could use (a piggy bank full of pennies that Mike and I have been saving to go to Maine…and that we also realize is never actually going to get us to Maine), I got the purse down to a reasonable price and placed the order today!
And immediately started feeling guilt and regret and like I’m a horrible Mom…which I might be.
Here’s my sacred vow, blogosphere: I’m done splurging on myself. This was it. I promise.
Now onto diapers and pacifiers!
Hi everyone. Sorry I’ve been so quiet lately. A lot has been going on.
I’m sure that some of you have heard about my cousin, Cory Barron. I don’t have the heart to recap it all here. What I DO need is your help in deciding which tattoo I should get to honor him and to remind myself to live for him, like him, and in a way that would make him proud (don’t worry–I’ll wait until the baby is born).
I’m putting this off to the side on my right wrist. It’ll be less than the size of a quarter. So here are the options with a poll below:
Mike said to me today, “You’re getting a little snippier every day since you’ve been pregnant.”
I said, “I don’t know if it’s me being snippy. I just feel less willing to tolerate people’s idiocy.”
Remember Crank-Ass Erica? I guess she’s still here. With that said, this country’s decline in grammar/punctuation/speaking/writing skills is truly disheartening to me, and I wonder where we’ll be in 10, even 5 years. Frankly, it horrifies me.
Will we all be vegetables with smart phones in our hands relying on squiggly red underlines to tell us that we’re idiots–and then will we simply ignore those squiggly red lines and use single letters to denote actual words? I fear the answer is yes.
I’m currently rereading Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice, and I find myself enamored with the language and the grand language of each of the characters. Though the Bennets are not of the highest society, they still sound refined. Hell, Elizabeth is witty enough to keep up her banter with Darcy–and that is a task in itself.
When I was in elementary school, I became insanely jealous of Jillian Rhoad (anyone know where she is?) when she showed up with “Weird Al” Yankovic’s “Bad Hair Day.” I wanted it. I wanted all the songs on it. I thought it was clever and wonderful, and truth be told, it made me want an accordion. “Weird Al” has been kind of MIA of late, but in the past two days, I’ve read about two of his songs: “Tacky” – the “Happy” parody and “Word Crimes” – the “Blurred Lines” parody, which is directly below this word.
At first, I was just thrilled that “Weird Al” was back. I f*cking love this guy.
But most importantly, I was hit with the very stark realization that when a guy named “Weird Al” has to step in to tell all the people on the Internet that they sound like morons, the world should take it as a sign that it’s time to start improving the way we speak and write. As a country and as a species, our communication skills truthfully make us look like a bunch of uncouth, barbaric slobs.
So I posted this on Facebook earlier, and now I’m putting the call to improve on my blog.
Let’s get better, America!
Let’s be honest. Lately, Erica = Crabass.
I don’t mean to do it. Well, sometimes I do. But I’ve discovered a few things from my new friend Ana (NOTE: It’s been more than a few things that I’ve learned from her. This includes, but is not limited to: Mercury Retrograde, happy essential oils, charting, Patrick Stewart, DragonCon, making costumes out of 90s platform boots, tequila, Mexican food, 100 calorie Skinny Cow Truffle Bars, etc.).
The most important thing that I’ve learned from Ana, however, is perfunctoriness. Yes, y’all, it is a word–perhaps my new favorite word. you probably know what it means and don’t even realize it.
Perfunctoriness = Apathy, which ultimately = MEH.
In order to be happy, we have to surrender our ability to care about certain things beyond our control. Here are a few things that I am attempting to be perfunctory about:
This, of course, is a starter list. I assume that my perfunctory sense of being will prevail in even more areas of my life as I grow older and more pregnant.
I must note, however, that I am choosing to be selectively perfunctory. I do care about some things, like Mike, my family, my baby, stuff that directly affects me. I’ll just keep the caring to that stuff. :)
Mike (husband) pointed out that the majority of my most recent posts are kind of angry…and biatchy…and so on and so on. :) So I thought I’d post about something fun and nice and wonderful–Rutabaker.
What the hell is a Rutabaker, you ask? “Rutabaker” is the nickname that we’ve given to our little nugget. I think Mike started calling it Rutabaga and then my mother cleverly added our last name to it and it became Rutabaker.
So here are some things about Rutabaker:
We are 18 weeks and 6 days along. We’ll be halfway there on June 20th! Kinda crazy.
We had an ultrasound on Monday and everything is on par! Rutabaker weighs about 8 ounces and is roughly the size of a mango.
Rutabaker DOES have a gender, but we aren’t finding out what it is. I did clear it with the ultrasound tech, though, and she said that it’s definitely one or the other. :) We chose not to find out because we believe that adulthood doesn’t hold very many “good” surprises. It’s usually a bad surprise–like, “You owe us $1093!” or “That mole looks suspicious…let’s get that checked out.” I think it’ll be exciting as hell to be in the delivery room and to hear someone yell, “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!”
Rutabaker also has a name, whether it’s a boy or a girl. The names have been picked out for over two years and I would post them here, but I feel like that would just provoke people to steal them and then I’d get really angry that these names got popular right before I used them. They are our names, and no, you cannot have them. You will learn the name on November 8.
OH! November 8 is Rutabaker’s due date.
And here are my views on pregnancy stuff:
So far, most of my pants still fit. I haven’t “popped” as they say, but I do feel like a cow standing on two feet. :) I’m waiting for that belly to blow out so I can look and feel pregnant.
I haven’t felt sick since the third month ended. I feel pretty amazing.
I might have felt a baby flutter once or twice, but who knows? That’s so hard to determine.
I have not posted any baby bump pictures on social media (and I do not intend to). If you’d like to see me pregnant, please make a live, in-person appointment. :-P I actually haven’t taken any baby bump pictures at all. 1) Because I don’t have much of a bump. 2) Because I honestly don’t see the point. I get it, you want to look back and see those bump pictures and think, “Man! I was huge!” or “Aw, I was pregnant with _______ in this picture.” I feel like there will be enough candid shots of me that I don’t need to schedule week by week bump pictures. PLEASE NOTE: This does not mean that I think poorly of any of you that have done/are doing bump pictures! Yay for you! Yay for excitement! Yay for cute chalkboard drawings and notes and just YAY! Bump pictures just aren’t for me. :)
Finally, I have a little something to say about complaining while you’re pregnant. I know that pregnancy can be uncomfortable and that you can’t drink or you can’t always eat the foods that you want. I get that. And I get that sometimes pregnant chicks feel like trucks walking down hallways. I will just say this–if you wanted this baby, then think twice before you complain. It’s a freaking blessing. There are tons of people out there wishing and trying and hoping. Don’t put them down by complaining about the miracle inside you. Additionally, it’s only 9 months out of your life. Not even a year. If you live to be 75 years old, that’s 900 months and each pregnancy is a mere 1% of that. I think you’ll be okay. 1% of your life being slightly uncomfortable is totally worth that baby.
Okay, while my post was not 100% bitch free, it was better than the last few. :)