Tag: personal

Aug 22

Happy Birthday, Baby!

Motherhood, Personal 13

My Darling Bookworms,

You’ll have to forgive me, I’m about to leak a bunch of feelings onto the internet. I scheduled this post to go live at 8:09 am central time on August 22, 2018 because at that very moment Sammy will have spent exactly 365 days breathing the air of planet Earth. (Sorry about the air quality, buddy.)

 

I’m a natural pessimist, so, as I mentioned yesterday, I read a lot about the difficult parts of early parenthood. I discussed the possibility of postpartum depression with my doctors before Sammers was born and was totally prepared to call in the reinforcements if needed. I’d read that not everyone immediately bonds with their child and that you’re not a monster if that happens. I’d read that breastfeeding can be incredibly difficult and that it’s totally OK if it doesn’t work out for you. I knew that I was going to be covered in all manner of bodily fluids at different points in time and attempted to steel my ickyness reflex. Heck, I’d even read posts about the first post labor bowel movement being the stuff nightmares were made of. There was no blog post too over-share-y. I was NOT going to go into this blind.

Side note: I’d recommend that all pregnant people do a little PPD research before the baby arrives. It really upsets me that PPD is so stigmatized and taboo. It can happen to ANYBODY and it doesn’t make you a bad parent. The stigma is garbage and leads to unsuspecting new parents suffering in silence during what should be a hormone-fueled haze of wonder and sleeplessness and joy. If you still feel like an emotional train wreck after 2 weeks, CALL YOUR DOCTOR. This has been a public service announcement. (For the record, I wasn’t afflicted with PPD so it’s pretty easy for me to tell people to reach out. But, I mean, you’d have treated your gestational diabetes, wouldn’t you? It’s not a personal failing to require medical assistance.)

To recap, I was prepared for the bad stuff (most of which I avoided by pure dumb luck.) I was not, however, prepared for this tidal wave of heart-eye-emoji, all-consuming adoration. I thought I’d be relieved to have survived the first year of parenthood, not clutching Sammy’s teddy bear in a dim living room and crying because it had all gone by so quickly. I am a SUCH a cliché. Just goes to show that parenting probably never matches anyone’s expectations.

This tiny person that I see every day? I just love him so much! Don’t get me wrong, screaming babies in the middle of the night aren’t any fun. But sometimes after he’s been snoozing in his crib for a while and I’m not ready for bed yet? I miss him. (I’m almost afraid to type that because I’ve become extremely superstitious when it comes to sleep and now he’ll probably stop sleeping altogether and I’ll be a zombie. He still doesn’t usually sleep through the night, so I don’t get to miss him for too long.)

I’d be content to snuggle Sam and watch Sesame Street for hours on end. Every time he learns something new I’m filled with pure delight. I’m completely undeserving of this sweet, kind, occasionally rascally little boy.

Happy Birthday, Samuel James. I love you throughout all the infinite universes. To the moon and back simply is not far enough.

Oh right, this is a book blog. Ha! I read I Love You Just Like This! to Sammers the other night before bed and got choked up. It’s the perfect book for your Elmo obsessed kiddo and your Mama Heart. (Thank you, Auntie Angie!)

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Aug 21

On The Night You Were Born

Personal 12

::Waves Sheepishly::

Hi. Hi there. I have… Not been writing. But here I am. Writing. Because MY BABY IS TURNING ONE TOMORROW. A whole year. It occurred to me that I never wrote out his birth story. I kind of want to document it before it goes all sepia toned, you know? On the Night You Were Born by Nancy Tillman is one of our bedtime story staples, so I was like “what a great idea, to tell a story about the night you were born.” This post is way more journal entry than adorable children’s book (sadly, no dancing polar bears), but it’s what was in my brain. So read it or don’t, it’s probably TMI, but not exceptionally graphic. It’s not at all book related, despite my half-hearted attempt at a tie in with the title.

The young sir was due on August 15, 2017, a date that came and went with little fanfare and no baby. I’d read extensively during my pregnancy, mostly just “real talk” mom blogs and the like, so I’d have some kind of idea what I was getting myself into. (I intentionally sought out the “I Wish I’d Been Warned” kind of advice because I find knowing the ugly bits helps me deal in case things go haywire.) I didn’t crack an actual “parenting” book until I was desperately sleep deprived, and even then I fell back on the expertise of a blogger turned author. Go figure.

In any case, I knew that babies, particularly first babies, tend to run a bit late. And I knew that if my life up to that point were any indication, I’d be waiting. In fact, I saw somewhere early in my second trimester that a full solar eclipse was going to be visible across a large swath of the US on August 21, and I figured my kid would wait until then to make a grand entrance. I said this in jest while hoping against hope that I’d be one of those week-or-two-early types, because being super pregnant in August in the Northern Hemisphere sucks. I’m pretty sure being super pregnant in any weather is terrible, but like, I was swollen AF and it was too hot to even consider anything so glamorous as compression stockings. Me and my sausage feet woke up on eclipse day in a foul mood, watched the eclipse on TV in a foul mood, and waited for my doctor’s appointment that afternoon in a foul mood.

This was taken 9 days before Sam was born. I was already irritated. Check out that belly!

At the appointment, I asked my doctor to set an induction date, seeing as I was nearly a week overdue already. I desperately needed to know that they wouldn’t just let me stay pregnant forever. We set an induction for the following evening and I went home. A couple of hours later I started having some cramps, then figured out they were contractions. I called the doctor and she told me to head to the hospital to get things checked out. I’d been warned by friends that you’re not allowed to eat once you go into labor, so before we left the house, I ate a PB&J, pausing to utter such eloquence as “this suuuuuucks” during the contractions. Because they did suck. *My husband heard me utter “this suuuuuuuuuuuuuucks” at literally every single contraction for hours and hours and hours. I never swore. Just bemoaned the suckage that is labor pain and crushed the bones in his hand. Again and again and again.*

I wasn’t the type of person who went into labor and delivery with a birth plan or expectations. Given the long and frustrating path we walked to even get to this point, I honestly didn’t give a crap how the birth went down. I knew I wasn’t going to attempt a drug free birth and that I fully intended to take advantage of pain relief options as soon as they were offered. The rest, I figured, would fall into place. (I say I didn’t have a plan, but obviously I had some kind of plan. I would not have been prepared for the baby to be in such a rush that I had to deliver him on my bathroom floor. I should be more appreciative of Sam’s patience.)

I arrived to a packed ER, since it was past normal maternity ward hours, and was escorted to a wheel chair. My husband had to drop me off and park the car because all the close spots were taken. As it turns out, celestial events seem to have an impact on sending women into labor. Well, that, and the fact that August is the most popular time of year to give birth, but I digress. I was wheeled up to L&D and waited in a hallway for a while before they could get me into a triage room. I have no idea how long. Time had ceased to be meaningful. Eventually I got into a triage room and was given a hospital gown. Through my entire hospital stay I could not figure out how to wear these effing gowns. They had all these snaps on the arm holes and ties in the back and I just got all tangled up. Had I been more lucid I’m sure I would have worried that my inability to get a gown on was an ill omen for my future as a parent, but all I remember is that Dirty Dancing (I carried a watermelon!) was on the room TV when I got there, and it was no longer on the TV when I was transferred to a regular L&D room. I’d gone into labor at about 5, gotten to the hospital around 7 or 8, and was in triage until 11 or midnight. Because, as I mentioned, every woman in the tri-county area had gone into labor at the same time. There simply weren’t any rooms at the proverbial inn. (Ba du bum)

During my time in triage, I hadn’t progressed much. I was worried that they were just going to send me home to fend for myself, since I was obviously a huge wimp for thinking I was in THAT MUCH pain while only being one centimeter dilated. The baby had shown some signs of potential distress though, so I was allowed to stay. At the time I was assured it was probably nothing to worry about, but it was a good idea to keep monitoring things in the hospital. I was so relieved. I’m pretty sure I begged for pain killers the entire time I was in triage. A nurse gave me a couple of pills at one point, but they might have been candy. I mean, they literally did absolutely nothing for the pain. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they were indeed placebo, reserved for annoying pregnant women who have a low pain tolerance.

Once I was installed in the regular room, I was like “soooo about this epidural.” And they were like “you’re not really far enough along for an epidural how about this other thing?” And I was like “I’ll take whatever you’ve got.” I have no idea what they gave me, other than that it took the edge off the pain. I’ve never really understood the phrase “take the edge off” until I was given this medication. Like, everything still hurt, but it felt more dull and less stabby. An improvement, to be sure. Eventually that wore off, and when I asked for more they were like “your only option now is an epidural” and I was like “I’ve been waiting to hear you say that!” A lovely anesthesiologist named Joel came and administered that sweet, sweet spinal relief.

I was able to doze a bit after that, so I removed my contacts and settled in for whatever was to come. At some point my doctor came in and broke my water (I’m like, REALLY good at retaining water. And amniotic fluid. The indignity of it all…) There were several more distress signals from the baby that resolved themselves. It was just like “OK, body, hurry up and do something.”

Until approximately 7:30 the following morning. An attending physician came in to give me the “you’re not progressing and it’s been like 14 hours, we might need to consider some other options” talk. Then the proverbial feces hit the fan. Some alarms went off, and my room was suddenly flooded with doctors and nurses. It was like an episode of ER. We went from “we may need to consider some options” to “you’re getting a C-Section right now and we’re not sure if we’re going to be able to keep you awake for it.”

I am extremely grateful for the fact that I’d had Joel give me an epidural in the wee hours because the means to administer the medication that would allow me to remain conscious was already in place. I’m also extremely grateful that the baby’s heart rate stabilized enough so that by the time I was wheeled into the OR (like 8 minutes later) we were in a slightly less frantic situation. (I’m pretty sure they’d have put me under regardless if the baby’s heart rate was still in dire straits.) Scrubs were literally thrown at my husband, and they told him they weren’t sure he was going to be allowed in the room (that was contingent on my consciousness, apparently.) They weren’t sure if my doctor was going to be there. It’s a damn good thing I didn’t go in with any expectations, because if I had, this would NOT have been part of the plan.

I remember being terrified, saying “I can’t lose him!” into an oxygen mask, and then devolving into repeating a looooooooooong chain of Hail Marys aloud. The repetition and chant-like nature of Catholic prayer is soothing in a crisis, and I was way beyond being bashful. So I made it to the OR, my doctor, luckily, made it in time, my husband was allowed in the room, and a few minutes and some weird pulling sensations later (probs my organs being all removed and whatnot. C-Sections are crazy) I heard my Samuel start wailing. Best. Sound. Ever.

Now, because I’d been in an emergency situation, my arms were strapped to the table. And, because I’d been an emergency situation, I hadn’t bothered to grab my glasses and I’d already taken out my contacts. I was told to look to my left where Sammers was being weighed, but everything was fuzzy. Eventually Jim brought the baby close to me, but I couldn’t hold him, because arms strapped to the table. I could, however, see him much better and proceeded to give his tiny face so many kisses that my lips were covered in the antibiotic ointment they put on newborns’ eyes. Seeing as my guts were still out and the baby was doing fine, I sent my husband away to follow the baby to whatever newborn testing stuff needed to be done and the staff sewed me up.

Hubs haaaaaaaaaates when I post pics of him, but since you can’t see his face, I think this is allowed. Look at my tiny Sammy! You can see that my lips are a bit shiny from all the smooching.

At this point, since the tension was broken and I had a healthy perfect baby boy, I started chit chatting with the folks holding the scalpels and stuff. The staff commented that Joel had done a great job placing my epidural, but I think the anesthesiologist who ended up doing the actual surgery part was a little salty when I referred to Joel as “my new best friend.” Sorry, anesthesiologist whose name I don’t remember. You did great, too. I didn’t feel a thing, other than the pulling stuff that I was supposed to feel.

Fun facts for you. Did you know that if your baby is “sunny side up” (meaning head down, but face up) it can make even early labor stupid painful and result in a prolonged and difficult birth? Also, a “nuchal cord” where the baby’s umbilical cord is wrapped around their neck is usually NBD and resolves itself, but sometimes it IS a big deal, like, if it’s in a weird position because your baby is facing the wrong way and it gets all smashed by contractions and messes with the oxygen flow? Those are things! Unpredictable things!

I am very grateful. Grateful that I had an epidural even though I was only like 3 cm dilated. Grateful that I was in a hospital with an excellent team of doctors and nurses and techs who know how to put guts back into people. Grateful that my doctor made it in time (although, I’m sure the attending would have done a great job too, but it was nice to have a familiar face wielding the scalpel.) Grateful that I was able to remain conscious. Grateful that my husband got to witness the birth of our son. Grateful that I had a pretty easy recovery. And most of all, obviously, grateful for the tiny human person I love so desperately to be here and healthy and hearty. Whew.

Time was rendered meaningless while I was in labor, and it never fully came back into my cognition. I have no freaking idea how this was all a full year ago, or how my once teeny fragile baby has grown into a babbling, mobile, toothy, autonomous person. I still know just enough to realize that I know nothing, and thus we stumble through, delighting in the joys and trudging through the obstacles. Happy start-of-labor day, Sammers. You are my greatest joy.

 

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Oct 27

Hello Again!

Personal 10

Long Time No Talk, Bookworms!

I suppose I should explain myself. So, back in June when I last posted, I was getting a bit frantic about getting everything wrapped up at work and preparing everything at home for the Tiny Bookworm’s arrival. I continued reading, but I lacked the time and mental head space to compose coherent thoughts. Truth be told, I played a lot of Candy Crush. I’m not proud of it, but there it is. Being super pregnant and outrageously swollen wasn’t my favorite state of being. Anywho, I have big plans to catch you up on all the things including my bookish baby showers, nursery decor, and YES, books unrelated to baby things. Also books related to baby things because The Pout-Pout Fish is among my favorite things EVER (thank you, Lauren!)

Of course, the Young Sir has arrived (I totally went into labor on eclipse day, but he was born the following morning, August 22.) If you follow me on Instagram or are FB friends with me, you’ll have seen 8 zillion photos, but WHATEVER MY KID IS CUTE.

Bookworms, meet Sam. Sam, meet the Bookworms.

Taken in the hospital. He was all of 2 days old. Note the penguin blanket and the mildly pained expression. He’s embarrassed by me already!

 

Why yes, I’m completely smitten.

Sammers is most pleased to meet you!

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Mar 01

A Life Update

Personal 57

Greetings Bookworms!

I know, I know. I wrote a total of ONE blog post the entire month of February. I’m not proud, but I’ve had a lot on my mind. See exhibit A:

That’s right, y’all. I’m currently gestating a tiny human. But I feel like it would be disingenuous to be all “YAY I AM PREGNANT!” without giving you at least a tiny bit of context. So, here’s the Reader’s Digest version…

Hubs and I decided we would like to have a baby nigh on 3 years ago. And, while it is VERY TRUE that one can get pregnant from a single encounter (I don’t want to take away from the importance of being responsible for any of the young impressionable minds that might be reading this) it doesn’t necessarily work that way for everyone. The road from flippant “oh, let’s just see what happens” to monitoring your temperature daily and buying ovulation kits in bulk is pretty depressing. Long story short, 2.5 to 3 years of trying, a whole lot of tests that couldn’t find anything wrong, and one (very early but totally heartbreaking) miscarriage led to the little dude in my belly showing up all on his own. When he darn well felt like it. I’m currently 16 weeks along, and if what the docs are telling me is true, it’s a boy!

I didn’t confide the whole of what was going on to very many people, mostly because it bummed me out and I wanted to feel normal. I also realize that given what some folks go through with hormone treatments and medications and other procedures, things could have been SO much more difficult. But reading the occasional blog post from someone who had been through something similar helped me feel less crappy. So, if this is you right now and you need a hug? Consider yourself HUGGED!

I suppose it’s been good preparation for parenthood. There’s going to be a whole lot that despite my best intentions is going to be completely out of my control. I’m still super excited to embark on this adventure!

Alright Bookworms. Any parents (or super awesome Aunts, Uncles, and Fairy Godparents) have recommendations for excellent children’s books or must-have baby gear? 

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Jul 08

In Case You Were Wondering (Because I am a Lazy, Lazy Blogger.)

Flowers, Personal 18

Hey There Bookworms,

I know, I’ve been so MIA lately. I’m reading and tweeting and also (apparently) snapchatting (wordsforworms is my username!) but I just haven’t been able to gather my thoughts enough to write a blog post. I blame summer. I want to do nothing but stare at flowers and lounge and read. Computer-y things are really more conducive to cooler temps and earlier sunsets (not that I WANT those things, because I do not. I want to wring all the joy out of summer that I can. All that sunshine is FREE VITAMIN D! I have to take a supplement in the winter.) Anywho, I’m calling today’s blog post “In case you were wondering.” Just in case you were.

In case you were wondering where I’ve been, there’s been a lot of home improving going on at the Gingerbread House. Not that we did ALL the heavy lifting (we’re smart enough to know our limitations and pay people who know what they’re doing) but it’s been time intensive. We got new windows installed on the first floor and had a boatload of landscaping work done in the backyard. But even paying people to do the hard parts? You’ve still got to do the cleanup and odds and ends and play in the dirt and plant more flowers because OMG MORE FLOWERS. But BEHOLD:

yard16

In case you were wondering what it’s like to be friends with me IRL, here’s a text exchange between me and my Bestie. (I also recently told her that she reminded me of garbage, since at one point she’d given me a set of penguiny bathroom accessories complete with trash can that I still use. Sometimes I wonder why she still talks to me…)

ME: I miss you. Here’s what I’d look like if I were a Yorkie.

Snapchat. I have no idea, you guys. Although, this is what my eyebrows look like in their natural state, more or less. Also my bottom teeth are crooked because I didn't wear my retainer.

BFF: Jesus. That’s kind of terrifying!

ME: I know, right? And yet, I am fascinated. Like in Mars Attacks! when they put SJP’s head on a chihuahua body…

BFF: Yeah, I think it’s the gigantic eyes that really push it over the top…

ME: The better to see you with, my dear.

BFF: You look like you should be on Zoobilee Zoo. The kids love it, by the way.

ME: Ha! Give them my love!

BFF: Your… Puppy love? (womp womp)

ME: Yep. Lick them.

BFF: Omigod, I just drooled coffee all over myself LOL-ing at that!

In case you were wondering if my eyebrows look like this Snapchat filter when left untamed? Yeah, basically. Also, I should have worn my retainer more. My bottom teeth are back to being kind of janky and crooked. Fingers crossed my Mom doesn’t read this blog or she’ll find a way to get me a new retainer…

In case you were wondering what I did on the 4th of July, we had family over to enjoy the new back yard and watch the parade that goes right past our neighborhood.

Aunting is my favorite.

Aunting is my favorite.

Alright, you’re officially all caught up. What have you been up to? Tell me everything, Bookworms!

*If you make a purchase through a link on this site, I will receive a small commission.*

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Nov 04

A Glimpse Inside My Head

Personal 17

Howdy Bookworms!

I have nothing bookish to discuss with you today. I mean, I’m reading and thinking about books and things, but I’ve got nothing coherent enough to constitute a post. I’m writing a post anyway because I feel like it. Here are things that have been going on in the swirling mass that is my brain of late.

1. I recently watched The Conjuring against my better judgement. It was Halloween, we had friends over, I am highly susceptible to peer pressure. I proceeded to have a nightmare that night in which I was conducting an exorcism and my prayers were having no effect… Because they weren’t in Latin. I woke up lamenting my monolingual status more than usual, and questioning why the Vatican would have phased out Latin if it were an essential ingredient in exorcisms.

katiedebhalloween

This gal was my college roommate. She made me watch scary movies then, too. We had bunk beds. It was awesome. And yes, I dressed up to hand out candy. It’s kind of my thing.

2. In other news, last night I saw an animal on the sidewalk and for a split second, I believed with every fiber of my being that it was a monkey. Until I remembered that I LIVE IN ILLINOIS and monkeys are not a native species, nor are they a common house pet. It turned out to be a tabby cat… Or it was Professor McGonagall playing a trick on me. Always a possibility. That Minerva. Ten points to Gryffindor, you prankster, you.

3. Speaking of McGonagall, I’m planning to join The Estella Society’s Potter Binge over the next couple of months. I’ll probably put together reactionary posts as I re-read and/or re-listen because HP is so ubiquitous there’s no real danger of subjecting anyone to spoilers. I doubt it’ll be very coherent, and will probably consist of bulleted lists full of SHOUTY CAPITALS and exclamation points!!! Which is wholly unlike everything else I write. (Wah waaaaaaaaah.)

4. I realized that I kind of hate animal print. I feel like I need to clarify the term “animal print” because my friend Joules has a top with these tiny elephants on it that is the cutest thing ever. That is NOT the animal print I’m talking about. I’m talking prints that resemble the pelts and skins of various animals. I don’t dislike people who like animal print or cringe when I see people wearing it, but it’s not something I’d incorporate into my own wardrobe. I own very little that’s not striped or a solid color. My closet is basically a billiards table.

So Bookworms. Give me an update. What’s been going on with you? Had any weird dreams lately? Been punked by a fictional character? Inquiring minds want to know!

*If you make a purchase through a link on this site, I will receive a small commission. I may or may not use it to buy myself Latin lessons. Just in case. Although, since Latin is technically a “dead” language, can anybody really be considered an authority on accent? I mean, all the native speakers are like super dead right now. I really hope demons aren’t particular about accent. They probably are though, because EVIL.*

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Oct 23

Ramble On

Personal 8

Happy Friday Bookworms!

This is going to be a post of pure randomness because even though I’ve been reading and listening a-plenty, I’m not in the mood to write a proper book review. It’s fine though because this week has been nuts. I’ve been having tech issues with the blog (bleh) and I know absolutely nothing about code or hackers or anything other than that I want the problems to staaaaaaaaaahp. Hubs is eleventy billion types of awesome though and he managed to cure what was ailing me- at least temporarily. Let’s hope this marks the end of the nonsense. If it doesn’t, well, I’m sorry in advance.

In other news, Gilmore Girls is coming back!!! Oy with the poodles already! I can’t tell you how excited I am or how desperately I’m hoping they can get Melissa McCarthy to reprise her role as Sookie. I loved Sookie St. James and all her craziness. The deep fried turkey episode?! It’s the stuff that dreams are made of.

oywiththepoodlesalready

Also, Halloween is fast approaching. I had every intention of making myself a tutu to wear with my Minnie Mouse ears, but seeing as I’ve yet to do a darn thing, we’ll see if that actually happens. I haven’t made up the Halloween treat bags for our oodles of trick-or-treaters yet either. Our house, however, is Halloweened TO THE MAX. We’ve got lights and two Halloween trees and pumpkins coming out our ears. Since Hubs is a significantly better photographer than I am, I’ll see if he’ll treat us to a pictorial tour next week. Here’s hoping.

What else? Oh! Last weekend, I became a Godmother again! Little miss Emma Jane (who you met earlier) was baptized and Jim and I were asked to be her Godparents. In case you’re keeping count, I’m now a Godmother 4 times over and they are all adorable, brilliant, and delightful children in spite of my influence.

Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Katie adore you, Emma-Saurus!

We were all trying to make her smile. Smiles on two-month-olds are fleeting and difficult to capture. She really does like us though, I swear.

I finally started the The All Souls Trilogy by Deborah Harkness. I’m sure I’ll talk about it more later, but since it’s all up in my brain, I felt it deserved a mention. I’m reserving judgement until I finish the series, but so far it kiiiind of feels like a mashup of Twilight, The Sookie Stackhouse books, and a dash of Outlander, though heaviest on the Twilight. Because apparently male vampires with consciences are total prudes. And vampires always mix with the fancy dancy movers and shakers of the world and never, like, work construction. I realize construction typically is done during daylight hours, but this book’s mythology doesn’t fry vamps in the sun (or make them sparkle, for that matter.) It’s a darn shame, because vampire strength would be pretty sweet when it comes to construction. Heck, a vampire road crew could probably do a much better job maintaining highways than the current system.

So that’s what’s going on in my world. What’s up in yours, Bookworms?!

*If you make a purchase through a link on this site, I will receive a small commission. I will invest that commission in an army of internet ninjas to protect my blog from future compromises. That’s how this works, right?*

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Sep 17

Feeling PUN-chy

Family, Personal 17

Hidey Ho, Bookworms!

I’m quite certain I’ve mentioned this before, but in case you missed it, I became an aunt again about a month ago. My sister-in-law and brother-in-law welcomed the sweetest baby girl in the history of baby girls. (This is empirically proven, of course, I wouldn’t feed you biased data.) Since our little Emma-Saurus arrived, a punch drunk series of texts have occurred… There’s a strong possibility that these exchanges are amusing only to us, but what the heck? I’m willing to share the nonsensical love. Both my husband and my brother-in-law are named Jim. As is my father in law. Not to mention the cousins. Because of course. Hence, my BIL is referred to as “New Guy” (since he is the newest Jim in the family, and probably always will be. Unless they give us a nephew one day…) We call him “New Guy” to his face and put it on his birthday cake and stuff. I’d go into more detail on the Jim situation, but I know I’ll never top the speech I gave at Jenny and New Guy’s wedding on the subject so I’m just gonna drop the mic right here and get into the text-versation.

punchy

*A teensy bit of context here. Emma has a stuffed sheep that doubles as a sound machine. His name is Sherman. She has a penchant for knocking him over. It’s probably accidental, as she’s like a month old and flails around on her little play mat, but it seems like she has it out for him. Without further ado…*

Jenny: Emma Update! She’s sleeping. (Shocker.)

IMG_0815

Me: Wait, wait, wait. Are those tiny Shermans on her PJs?

Jenny: Those are tiny Shermans. We thought it might improve their relationship. I’ve got a bad feeling about this though…

IMG_0816

New Guy: That’s a fist she’s making!

Me: Hit him with your best shot, Emma!

New Guy: Would we say Sherman should be wearing a WOOL-et proof vest? #punitentiary

Me: He is looking a bit sheepish. #NewGuyStartedIt

New Guy: Emma has been acting baaaah-dly around him.

IMG_0817

Jenny: It was only a matter of time.

New Guy: Someone sent Sherman out to pasture.

Me: Emma is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Jenny: Wool done!

Hubs: Ewe guys are cracking me up. Some of these puns are shear genius.

New Guy: Winner, winner gyro dinner.

Me: I don’t mean to LAMB-ast you, but these jokes are getting baaaaad.

Hubs: Oh man, I ain’t got mutton. (Full disclosure, I almost made a veal joke before Katie reminded me veal comes from calves.)

New Guy: He better MOO-ve it. #RandomCowJoke

Me: He gets knocked down, but he gets up again. #RandomChumbawambaJoke

_____HOURS PASS_____

Me: Seriously guys? Crickets on the Chumbawamba reference? That was comedy gold!

New Guy: Sorry I missed it. I was too busy pissing the night away.

Aaaaaaaaaand scene. You know you wish you were in on this. If for no reason other than the unbearably cute baby pictures. What about you, Bookworms? Does your family get into any texting shenanigans?

 

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Jun 05

Conversations With My Husband: White Walkers

Personal, Zombies 8

Salutations Bookworms!

I never can predict when Hubs is going to say something blog-worthy, but, well, this happened while we were watching Game of Thrones this week. You’re welcome.

conversations

Jim: You know, I wouldn’t mind working for those White Walkers.

Katie: You mean the ice monsters that control an army of the undead?

Jim: Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t be a mindless zombie or whatever, but maybe they need an accountant.

Katie: Huh?

Jim: Well, I see 5000 zombies over there and 5000 zombies over there. I can tell them how many wights they’ve got on hand at any given time.

Katie: And when they find out you’re terrible at math?

Jim: Oh that’s fine. They’ll just transfer me to research and development. Those glowing blue eyes didn’t just happen, you know.

Katie: You are seriously so screwed when the dragons show up.

Apparently my husband identifies with evil. Welp. At least I knew what I was getting into when I married him. Weirdo.

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Apr 20

20 Questions (Because I am Ill-Prepared to Discuss Books Today)

Q&A, Uncategorized 19

Howdy Bookworms!
I’m running behind blog wise so I thought I’d tackle the super fun 20 questions game I saw Jen at The Relentless Reader complete a while back. Everybody loves 20 questions, right?!
20 Questions About Me:
 
1. HOW TALL ARE YOU?
5’3 and a half. The half inch is very important to me. I typically round up and tell people I’m 5’4 because it’s weird to claim the half inch when you’re over the age of 9.
2. DO YOU HAVE A HIDDEN TALENT?
Hmmmm. I’m actually really good at hula hooping. Not like, circus caliber hula hooping, but I’m pretty confident I could win a contest at a company picnic.
3. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST BLOG-RELATED PET PEEVE?
Like that I do or that other people do? I’ve been so awful about reading other blogs recently that I can’t even think of complaints. How about this? I spent my evening working on a post that I didn’t realize I couldn’t post until next week anyway? That’s kind of annoying. But really, I think we’re all winning, because me interviewing myself is highly entertaining. To me.
4. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST NON-BLOG RELATED PET-PEEVE?
Personal space. Lately this has been bugging me at the gym. Like, I am going to sweat and be repulsive and I really just want a three foot radius so I don’t have to worry about bumping into people. Invasion of my space (even though I KNOW I’m not entitled to it, especially when a class is full) just bugs me. Or, like, during the running track of BodyAttack there are always a couple of middle aged dudes who feel the need to run super fast and like try to win. There just isn’t any “winning” in running laps during an aerobics class, okay? Nobody is impressed!
youre-running-laps-in-a-gym-during-an-aerobics-class-not-crossing-the-finish-line-in-the-olympics-nobody-is-impressed-8bfb9
5. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE SONG?
I don’t know that I can claim a favorite song. Is that bad? How about “our song?” My husband and I claim “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot as “our song” because it’s the least appropriate and least romantic song ever. Of course, I secretly think that “our songs” are “Romeo and Juliet” by Dire Straits (because it’s pretty), “The Way I Am” by Ingrid Michaelson (because it’s adorable), and “True Companion” by Mark Cohn (because I’m a sap and attended far too many weddings.)
6. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE ETSY SHOP?
Oh that’s easy! My pal Lily (who also writes a blog, It’s A Dome Life) has a FAB Etsy store full of hand painted jewelry and art. It’s amazing.
7. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE WAY TO SPEND YOUR FREE TIME WHEN YOU’RE ALONE?
Reading, obviously. I also like to soft-shoe dance in my kitchen.
8. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE JUNK FOOD?
Nacho Cheese Doritos are my dietary kryptonite. I can’t keep the darn things in my house because I can’t just eat a few chips, I eat like half the bag. It’s highly detrimental to my quest to keep my pants fitting.
9. DO YOU HAVE PETS?
Nope. Unless you count my husband. But he’s like a super clean pet who is really fond of windex, so…
10. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE FICTION AND NONFICTION BOOKS?
Ha! No. That I cannot tell you. All time favorites are super impossible. I can give you two that I love though. Will that do?
jamiefraser

Swoon!

11. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE BEAUTY PRODUCT?
I looooove EOS lip balm and ELF eyelid primer. Because APPARENTLY I only like beauty products by companies with three letter acronym names beginning with “E.”
12. WHEN WERE YOU LAST EMBARRASSED?
Oh heavens. It happens all the time. Actually, I tripped rather spectacularly last night on a stroll through my neighborhood. Thanks to my cat-like reflexes I was not injured, but it wasn’t my most graceful moment.
13. IF YOU COULD DRINK ONE BEVERAGE FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, WHAT WOULD IT BE?
Water. I’m so freaking boring. I just really like being hydrated, okay? And this is the rest of my life we’re talking about!
14. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE?
Mary Poppins. I usually turn it off before they get to the bank, though, because it used to scare me. Besides, all the best parts are at the beginning. The chalk painting? The floating laughter tea party? The dancing penguins?! Awwww yeah.
15. WHAT WERE YOU IN HIGH SCHOOL? PROM QUEEN, NERD, CHEERLEADER, JOCK, VALEDICTORIAN, BAND GEEK, LONER, ARTIST, ETC?
Hmmm… I was pretty nerdy, pretty broody, and I took ballet lessons. An enigma wrapped in a mystery swathed in very large pants was high school Katie.
16. IF YOU COULD LIVE ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD, WHERE WOULD YOU LIVE?
I am SUCH a chicken. I get sweaty palms when I think about uprooting from my current surroundings. It’s not because I’m just THAT in love with Central Illinois, but I don’t do change particularly well.
17. PC OR MAC?
I always had Macs growing up. Hubs still uses a Mac for most things (esp video things) but I do most of my blogging and whatnot on a PC.
18. LAST ROMANTIC GESTURE FROM A CRUSH, DATE, BOYFRIEND?
This isn’t the most recent romantic gesture, but it’s come up a couple of times recently and it bears mentioning again. For my 30th birthday Hubs took me to meet a penguin in real life AND bought out the whole penguin encounter so it was just the two of us and the penguin. It was pretty great.
19. FAVORITE CELEB?
Amy Poehler. She’s my spirit animal. (I am keeping Jen’s answer because it is perfection.)
amywink
20. WHICH BLOGGER DO YOU SECRETLY WANT TO BE BEST FRIENDS WITH?
Oh man. This is a tough question. Mostly because I actually met and became friends with some of the bloggers I admire most (Filing Jointly and Pocketful of Joules, I’m looking at you!). That, or I was friends with them before the whole blogging thing even happened (Quirky Chrissy.) There are a ton of book bloggers I’d love to pal around with whom I’ve yet to meet, but I feel like putting that level of creepiness out on the internet would be weird. They’re not famous per se, they’re just awesome.
Talk to me, Bookworms. Anybody else feel like over sharing? I’d love to know more about you! I also want to know if anybody wants to secretly be Best Friends with me. I’m open to the idea. You really can’t have too many friends. 
*If you make a purchase through a link on this site, I will receive a small commission.*

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