Check this out

Today I am guest-posting at Amanda's blog, Somewhere Over The Camo. She is off enjoying her husband while he's home for R&R! Yeehaw!

I am sure that I wrote something life-changing and not at all last-minute or boring, so head on over and check it out!

**Updated: Fellow milspouse blogger Kerri from Home Is Where The Army Sends Us is competing for a Lilly Pulitzer prize on facebook and she needs some votes to maintain her lead! I don't have a facebook, but if you do, click here to vote for her! Since I am yoga-pants-bound for the time being, I like to live vicariously through well-dressed people, and she is one of them. This prize will help her continue to be so fashionable.**

Bubbles and babies

So apparently Steve has ideas of his own when it comes to my to-do lists.

I'm slowly but surely coming around to this idea since waddling around with a bowling ball between my legs is starting to wear on me. I also require assistance getting off of the floor now. This is no good when Sam INSISTS that I sit down there and play with him during the day. Sitting two feet above him on the couch only elicits disapproving grunts and whines until I come down to his level.
It is also quite troubling when I am in this position, only to have Bowling Ball Baby sucker punch me in the bladder, requiring me to lift myself off of the floor quickly and scramble to the bathroom. (Note: big, pregnant ladies do not "scramble" anywhere quickly or well.)

In other scintillating news, we got Sam a bubble wand at the store the other day.

I thought that it was going to be an amazing three dollar investment. He seemed entranced by the bubbles I blew at him one day, but, as it turns out, I am not a talented bubble-blower. I tend to just blow the bubble solution all over Sam's and my faces. So a bubble wand seemed to be the solution. Except once we got the bubbles going, he seemed a little confused as to where the bubbles were going, and then got distracted with his field o' freedom behind our house.

And since Steve is a little bubble-wand-retarded (picture someone swatting at a hive of angry bees), we ran out of bubble solution pretty quickly. Bless his heart.

I was obviously content to park my whale butt on the sidewalk and take pictures of my two favorite men. (Remember: I had Steve The Crane there to help me up, so I wasn't worried that I would be left out in the field by myself.)

Fear not, warm-weather-appropriate ankle socks are in Sam's immediate future. And possibly a new pair of shoes.

To-do lists

I am slowly but surely whittling away at my to-do list before Second Baby arrives.

I ordered the "coming home" outfits for both sexes, bought the breast pads, packed my hospital bag, and am still listening to Hypnobabies every night when I fall asleep. Steve is currently installing the somewhat-permanent baby gates so that no one takes a tumble down our very steep flight of stairs in the coming weeks when Sam is sure to suffer from some sort of no-sleep-induced parental neglect. (Kidding- (sort of)- don't call CPS.)

The one thing I can't figure out though is which postpartum support to purchase. I've been given three recommendations by three different friends, and I can't find super-overwhelmingly-awesome reviews on any of them. That, or I can't figure out which size I need. Or I feel like it might cost too much to possibly not work at all. The size issue could be remedied by some measuring tape, but that is a wee bit scary at the moment as I don't think we have measuring tape long enough to get the job done. (AM HUGE at this point)

The three supports I'm considering are..... Medela Postpartum Support, The Belly Bandit, and Bellefit supports. Medela is the cheapest, but I'm reading the WORST reviews about it today. The Belly Bandit is semi-expensive and has mixed reviews (although mostly high marks), but requires the measuring tape. The Bellefit supports are rated like God himself created the things but are RIDICULOUSLY EXPENSIVE and I could possibly hire a night nurse for two whole nights for the cost of one of those supports (which I would certainly choose over a flat tummy, no doubt). Help?

My mom told me to let her know when I started nesting so that she could be prepared for "the call." In the past week, I have cleaned two toilets, purged the toy bin in the living room, vacuumed the upstairs (a happening as rare as hens teeth around here), and cleaned and organized the pantry. If this is not nesting, I'm not quite sure what is. Also, we have way more chocolate in our pantry than actual food. Not that I'm complaining or that this is some sort of problem. Au contraire!
(Side note: do M&M's ever expire?)

Still on my list of things to do before Second Baby arrives:

• order postpartum support
• dust
• bake something for new neighbors
• clean the last bathroom
• attempt to find coming home outfit for myself that does not involve yoga pants
• accept the fact that coming home outfit will definitely include yoga pants
• con Steve into rubbing lotion on my feet every night so that I don't scare doctor with paleolithic scales on my rough feet
• eat the rest of the chocolate so I am not tempted after Second Baby is born
• pre-make birth announcements for both genders so that all I have to do is insert newborn photo
• waste another hour of my life in line at the post office to stock up on stamps
• call my mom to warn of nesting symptoms
• breathe
• squeeze my baby
• enjoy my husband
• sleep 

Thanks in advance for your advice on the postpartum supports!

Hormonal RAGE and an update

I'm talking about Sam, of course. What, you didn't think *I* had hormonal rage did you?? But if I did, hypothetically speaking, we'd blame it all on the pregnancy, yes? Yes. Good to know. But I don't have it. Yet.
Sam probably didn't have it either, but he launched his little Veggie Tales plastic plate down from his high chair with some Hulk-like strength this evening and it broke in half.

He looked so surprised and wasn't sure whether I was mad or if I would burst out laughing. I was kind of shocked, and maybe a little peeved since that is the only kid-sized plastic plate we own, but this might be a little nudge to, um, BUY SOME MORE. I think that spells Target, but I can't be sure. I don't see how Target could ever be the wrong answer to anything, so there might be a trip taken to the enchanting red bulls-eye this weekend just to cover my bases.

Steve update:
Steve's eyes are beginning to heal, and while his ratio of sleep-to-awake time is heavily stacked on the sleep side, I'm hoping he'll come out of hibernation soon. Poor guy had a rough time last night with his left eye's contact lens crinkling up and ultimately falling out this morning, and it seemed to have a completely visceral effect on him as his nose ran constantly last night, providing us both with newborn-like sleep patterns. He went back up to the hospital this morning and got another lens put in, and was immediately relieved of most of the pain that was causing. His right eye is lookin' good though! I only teared up something like 47 times while I applied two whole drops in each eye (am such a weenie when it comes to eyeballs...).

I also put off my bi-weekly (now weekly- ACK!) OB appointment long enough, finally bit the bullet and went in this afternoon. Of course, my doctor was out delivering a baby. I mean, the nerve of these women to have their babies during clinic hours. Sheesh. It wasn't long before I was called back. Good numbers, says the doctor. (The numbers I see horrify me to no end).

Gratuitous whale picture. You're welcome.

Then the nurse told me that I would be tested for Group B Strep today and I remember telling Steve that I was going to have blood work done for that today. Then I see her pull out one of those special little blankets and a light bulb went off in my head. I said, "Wait a second. The GB Strep test isn't a blood test, is it? It's a swab, isn't it..." And then I started laughing uncontrollably and she thought it was hilarious that I was prepping myself for a needle prick when she was prepping me for a SWAB. Ya know, DOWN THERE. So haha (nervous laugh) that's fine! Whatever! It's not like y'all won't be all up in my lady bits here soon anyways. But then my doctor came in (I'm pantsless at this point obvs) and tells me that since I delivered Sam at 41 weeks, there was no sense in doing the swab this week. (Because I'm two days away from 36 weeks, and the results of this test are only viable for 5 weeks max, and if I go to 41 weeks with this one too, I will have to get hooked up to the juice no matter what because of my null and void results past five weeks. Make no sense to you either? Awesome.)

So I didn't get swabbed today. That instantly made my day about 6,487,592 times better. We listened to the heartbeat (132 bpm- sounds like a BOY) and then I told her how Steve was predicting that this baby was coming at 37 weeks. She was all, "Oh that would be super convenient, huh?" And I looked at her like she was covered in banana peels. Okaaaaay, I guess that would be convenient somehow... (???)

So we'll see. I have just about everything done. I bought some breast pads at Target last weekend and afterwards, felt SO much more prepared. Almost like, I can have this baby now that I am stocked up on breast pads. Because so long as I have those suckers, it doesn't matter if we've installed the carseat or packed a hospital bag or made arrangements for Sam or FINISHED HYPNOBABIES GAH- it's cool. Relax. I've got the breast pads. We're set. Set to stop any leak. We'll figure out labor and Sam and bringing the baby home (legally) eventually. Those are just some minor details, right?

Wanna see the front of my shirt? Sure ya do.

Yes, this woman needs more chocolate like she needs a hole in the head. DO NOT FEED THE PREGNANT LADY. And don't even go near her if you have Reeses on your person.

Apparently there is a reason I did not become a nurse

One of those qualities of a "good nurse" is compassion. Or something equivalent to that. Maybe sympathy? Empathy? The ability to not roll your eyes when a male patient complains about being uncomfortable when you are sporting a jumping watermelon like a fanny pack for nine months?

My lack of sympathy MIGHT be due to the fact that I'm pregnant.
Maybe.
There is a chance of that being the case.

Last picture with glasses

Steve had laser eye surgery yesterday and is loaded up with a bag of drops and ointments and pills to "get him through." I can't even watch him put contact lenses into his eyes without mine watering up, so I honestly can't imagine anything like eye SURGERY, but some part of me still finds it entertaining that all of THIS is required for two little ol' eyes...

I also find it a little laughable that he gets five days off to lie around in bed, taking narcotic pain killers for eye pain, when I will birth a child through my nether regions (with NO narcotics) and then be expected to get up around the clock immediately after to allow the scream-y person to bite my most sensitive area repeatedly in order to keep him/her alive (again, with no narcotic assistance). Sounds totally fair.

This evens the playing field quite a bit in my mind though.

Sam is clearly embarrassed.. "Dad! Omg. What if my playground friends see me with you looking like this?? I am so annoyed at this whole situation. Mom, quit taking pictures already, for the LOVE."

Someone only had prescription sunglasses so he had to borrow mine for the drive home.

He looks *FABULOUS* doesn't he?

The looks we got from the soldiers at the gate... that was pretty priceless. Is it me, or are men kind of like the fairer sex when it comes to dealing with pain?

*I took vows that included loving my husband "in sickness and in health" so fear not, I am taking care of my stud muffin. Don't go all Jerry Springer on me like I'm just sitting around laughing at his pain. I mean, I might be laughing, but not to his face.*

God only knows how this will come out

Our Internet is on the fritz and I'm typing on my phone, so hopefully this doesn't post in Arabic or wingdings or something equally as crazy. Just wanted to let y'all know that I am being featured on Melissa Jaine's sweet blog today! Wheeee! Check it out under the Military Girl section and let me know what you think!

Bless his heart

This husband of mine... I love him so much. Why, just this weekend, he cleaned out my car, vacuumed it, washed it, did some laundry (DIAPER LAUNDRY at that!), played with Sam nonstop, took care of every bathtime and diaper change, put him to bed each night, didn't complain when I wore my Breathe Right strip half the morning, let me nap, got up in the morning with Sam while I slept in, and just let me REST. It was SO NICE. I am still feeling quite crappy, but definitely much better with all of that rest in me from the weekend.

However. There are other things about my husband that make me scratch my head and look at him funny. I realize that I am sort of, um, particular about certain things and the way they are done. I am not the wife that ever (EVER) sends her husband to the commissary with a grocery list to do the shopping for me. I write out my list, gather up my coupons, and methodically hit each aisle looking for other brands that might be on sale or possibly a better deal. But I just didn't have it in me this weekend to go there. And we needed things. Important things. Like milk. And bread. And bananas. And eggs. So Steve said, "Well you've already written out a list. I'll just take Sam and we'll do the shopping." Like, oh, it's that simple. He doesn't seem to think that taking a screaming toddler (oh yes, it was the witching hour) to the commissary on a Sunday evening was a scary idea. That whole sentence petrifies me. But he seemed to think it was no big deal. I thought it would be fun for him to experience that little slice of hell that I go through each week, so I let him go. BUT FIRST. I had to amend the list.
My list started out like this:

strawberries
bananas
sausage
hot dogs
applesauce
peanut butter
frozen veggies
bread
chicken
yogurt
milk
eggs


I realize that most women will look at this list and see it as complete. Nothing else needs to be added. I put on my "husband spectacles" and could already picture him at the store, buying the tiniest package of strawberries, "hot" sausage links, the most expensive applesauce, the wrong brand of peanut butter, not enough milk, etc.

So I amended it.

I thought my new amended list was VERY specific, to the point of being a little anal (what with the ounces and prices and all), but I thought, "Better to have too MUCH information instead of too little."
Well I could have definitely been a little more anal.

I received multiple phone calls, tried my best to direct him in the direction the items would be located in, and strained my brain to recall what certain packaging looked like. In the end, I gotta say, he did a good job.

But when I pulled out these two items from the bag, I had to give him a look and wonder if we've really been married for going on three years now.

First of all, a HALF LOAF of bread? It pains me that the commissary even sells that (because it costs just as much as a full loaf), but Steve swears that there were no full loaves available. I wasn't there, so I can't contest that.
But the peanut butter. COME ON MAN. You've known me for how long? Been married to me for how long? Watched me make how many peanut butter and banana sandwiches? CRUNCHY?!?! He claims to have never noticed that I only eat creamy peanut butter. I give him the "COME ON MAN" look and he falls back on the indisputable excuse of "They were out of the creamy kind." Mm-hmm. I bet.

Oh, and of course, Sam turned into a little saintly saint of an angel as soon as he was buckled into the car and was a fantastic shopping partner for Steve while they were out. I think the kid does things like that just to mess with my head.

Once again, I need your assistance

I think it's safe to say that all of you out there, collectively, wear pants with an elastic band fewer times in a month than I do in a week. That is to say, you are all more fashion-forward than me. So I need your help. PLEASE.
I finally bought a dress for the military ball that's coming up (in, ya know, 2.5ish weeks), and while we're still not 100% sure that we're even going, I need to be prepared in the off-chance that we do go.

This is the dress I bought.

I know. Let's all be jealous at how un-pregnant this little twig looks modeling a "maternity" dress. Perhaps dreams of possibly looking so skinny whilst harboring a baby in my chub-riddled midsection might have sold me on this particular dress. It mentioned something about being dry-clean only, which to me, means "fancy fabric." I possibly own two things that come with such a tag, and they are worn about as often as you think I wear them. (Ahem. Not that much.)

But once I received the dress in the mail, it kind of squeals, "I'm a maxi-dress from Old Navy!" (Do not tell me that you saw this coming.) I mean, I can totally get away with wearing it since it's floor-length and no one will be actively grabbing the fabric and asking me what it's made of (and if they do, I will absolutely tell them to "quit touching my baby!" and huff off like a crazy person, which should stop the touching altogether).

My question for you lovely fashionistas is this: hair? shoes? necklace? I gotta dress up this covert maxi-dress and make it look "formal." I obviously plan on wearing some sort of flats.. possibly my Old Navy sandals (oh the irony) that look identical to this? (WITH A PEDICURE FOR SURE)

I am not one of those girls that has amassed some super-spectacular shoe collection from my single days, so this falls under my "fancy shoe" category. Holler if I am incorrect in this categorization.

I am almost completely decided that I will look like I put some time and effort into this "look" if I do my hair up. Or rather, someone else will do my hair up, because it took me visiting a "hair salon" (I use those words loosely) approximately two weeks after previously having my hair cut/mangled/chopped to be told that my hair on the back of my head had basically been mutilated. My fashion-forward husband was oblivious to this travesty as well, so at least he wasn't embarrassed to be seen with me. HOWEVER. I have never had a good experience with a hair dresser (and I mean NEVER) and I think it has something to do with my curly hair. Apparently curly hair isn't considered need-to-know-material in beauty school since the majority of America has been bestowed with straight, manageable locks. So I will need to bring in a life-size poster with some picture plastered on it so that the person attempting to do my hair has an idea of what I would prefer to look like. Please help me choose. Or suggest something different altogether if I am destined to be embarrassed by any or all of these looks.

I especially like her necklace in the last picture. That would be the final piece of this here puzzle- finding a nice, chunky piece of jewelry to make my cheap shoes and dress look, well, less cheap.

Or do I need something simpler and less chunky?

THE DECISIONS. I am ill-equipped to make them.

So now I'll just tell people that I went to Paris over the long weekend like it was no big deal

Despite the general feeling o' death that's been hanging over me lately, I have managed to knock a couple more things off of my 101 in 1,001 list.

I'm sure that in my last post, I came off as all kinds of hating Valentine's Day, but I really don't. I have no problems whatsoever with a day that revolves around LOVE and showing love and remembering why you first fell in love, yadda yadda. But I also don't think that we should focus all of our love efforts toward that one (extremely over-commercialized) day. I try (key word) to do things for Steve every day to let him know that I love him.

But since I didn't really DO anything on Valentine's Day (thanks to feeling like I'd been hit by a truck), I decided that I would surprise him with a special, candlelit dinner. Number 72, consider yourself DONE.
So I hit up the Valentine's Day sale section at Target, got a few decorations and some candles and went about setting up our special dinner. I made spaghetti and a chocolate chip pie and got word around 4:30 that he would be leaving work at 5. Well, 5pm came and went. So did 6. So did 7. I may or may not have gotten my panties in a twist over this stupid delay and called my mama to vent it all out. He finally got home around 8 and we had our dinner then. He was still surprised and loved it, and that was really all that I was going for (although eating dinner before our bedtime still ranks pretty high on my list of daily priorities). I took one whole picture before my camera up and died on me.

Notice the lovely plastic cups. We are super classy. I may have also possibly been in my pajamas already during our special candlelit dinner (because it was BEDTIME HELLO) and Steve may have possibly eaten dinner in his underwear and half of his uniform (because HURRY UP DINNER'S GETTING COLD).

Overall, it was a nice way to unwind after a long (although technically short- ha) week.

Earlier that morning, I decided to bite the bullet and make some goodies for Soldier Appreciation Day. I mean, I appreciate the soldiers a lot, even if people can't give me more than a day's notice on making goodies for them. I only made brownie bites for the soldiers, but I stuck an extra treat in Steve's bag and put it in his truck since he wasn't at the motorpool when I dropped off the baked goods.

Normally, I would go for some fancier packaging, but when I am sick and only have a day's notice, you get a ziploc bag with some "personalization" on it. Lovely!

Later on in the (same) day, I got Sam another doctor's appointment. Since finishing his antibiotic for his ear infection(s), he had developed a wet, nasty cough as well as a super-disgusting snotty nose. That was in addition to grabbing at his ears. So. We go to the doc's office and see a NP since our usual doc has the day off. She valiantly puts up with his screaming while getting his pulse taken (ON HIS FOOT for the LOVE) and then it takes three people to physically restrain him while the NP tries to check his ears. I had the pleasure of holding his head, most likely because I am the most deserving of eardrum damage since he is my kid and all. She confirms that he has two RAGING ear infections and apparently that last antibiotic didn't do squat. Awesome. After checking out another (!) two rashes on his hiney, we leave the sweltering office with two new prescriptions and a lot of sweaty clothes. Yes, it was then that I decided that checking out the Valentine's clearance at Target would be a grand idea. And it was. No regrets!

That day was also the candlelit dinner day, and I realize now that I basically told the whole day backwards, or at least in a really funky order. Oh well. You get the gist of it right? (The gist of it being: I NEED WINE. LOTS OF WINE.)

Steve has a 4-day weekend this weekend and we wanted to take full advantage of it, not just putter around ol' Clarksville and waste time (although Steve DID mention something about going to Target, and I was thisclose to taking him up on that offer). Instead, we decided that yesterday, we would go and see Paris, Tennessee, with our own eyes.

The drive there was quite interesting. I love driving through little towns and wondering where on earth the people there do their grocery shopping and if that's their only gas station and seeing how cute the little downtowns are. We arrived in Paris and could NOT locate the Eiffel Tower! You would think it would be stuck in the middle of downtown. Instead, this courthouse was. I guess that is probably more useful than an Eiffel Tower replica. But still.

Charming, no?
The entire downtown area was so cute and we stopped in a sweet little store to ask directions to the Eiffel Tower.

After receiving directions that involved no street names whatsoever ("You go down this road here until you get to the Sonic. Then you go left. And then you go right. Don't go too far past the Lowe's.") We eventually found it, even as directionally-challenged as we are.

There was a nice little park and recreation area surrounding this near-life-size replica of the Eiffel Tower, and Sam was content, once again, to walk around its perimeter, surveying the playset and practicing walking on woodchips. I am hoping that one day, possibly in the close-ish future, Sam might gain the courage to actually play on the playground.

While Paris wasn't exactly what I was expecting, I thought it was a very charming town and we enjoyed our Saturday trip to somewhere new.

Between the pressure from society and my sinuses, I think I need a piece of chocolate

You know when you're at the beach and you get knocked down by a really big wave? You come up sputtering and your nose burns from inhaling large amounts of gross-tasting salt water and your face stings from being exfoliated by the sand you just ate, and just when you wipe your eyes and get your footing, ANOTHER big ol' wave comes and smacks you right back under.

Maybe you don't know that feeling if you wear goggles. Or are aware of your surroundings. Or steer clear of the Atlantic Ocean. But I've been to the Jersey shore before (EW), and that happened to me a lot when I was feeling brave enough to venture into the water (TWICE). And that is sort of how I'm feeling this week (metaphorically speaking and all). Sam got hit with his ear infection and snotty, stuffy-nose sickness sometime last week (or two weeks ago, I can't really remember ANYTHING anymore) and then I got it. Felt kinda "meh" for a few days and then one day I turned into the blob that did not want to move from the couch. Finally got my footing though and wiped my eyes, and then yesterday- BLAM. Feeling like death had just mowed me down again. Where in the frickety frick is this crap coming from?? It is not like we even GO anywhere these days. And my house is cleeeeeeaaaaannnnn!!! I promise! Thank goodness Steve got home from work early yesterday (or, well, ON TIME, which is just as unusual as "early") so he took over feeding and bathing and entertaining the small person while I laid on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, and moaned about how demanding my boss is and how much I wish I could call in sick.

Of course yesterday was payday and we ran out of something like six essential foods in our house, so I was dreading the subsequent commissary trip that had to happen today. I don't mind running errands with Sam because he is generally well-behaved when we are out and about, but he has become much more, um, "defiant" lately when it comes to getting in the car. You would think I was strapping him into a chair that was on fire. He screams and cries and I gotta do this wacky move where I use one elbow to hold him down at the crotch so he doesn't arch his back and make it impossible for me to fasten his buckle. I can only imagine what the neighbors think when watching me strap him in.

<Sam, screaming like he is being forced to sit in a bed of fire ants>
<Me> "Sit DOWN. Here- milk? juice? book? pacifier? toys? Come on child! SANTA IS WATCHING!!!"

Luckily we just don't GO anywhere anymore. That eliminates a big hunk of the problem. But there are times when we need things (say, groceries for example) or when I have to run an errand or when I just CANNOT take being inside of our house any longer and the carseat fight seems to be worth it. (I usually start doubting whether or not it's "worth it" about halfway through the battle.)

Upon waking up this morning and having a piece of sandpaper replace the usual lining of my throat, I decided that I could not and would not take Sam to the commissary with me. And lo and behold, Steve got back from PT early! I convinced him that I only needed to grab a few things from the commissary and if I could just go now, while he was home between PT and work, it would save me lots of time and quite a bit of sanity as well. Saving these two things only serves to benefit Steve, so he agreed.

It took me an astounding FIFTEEN MINUTES to work my way from the front door of the commissary to exiting the checkout line. I was SO PROUD. And so happy! I would not have to battle the crazies with paychecks fresh in hand at the commissary later in the day, NOR would I have to take Sam with me. Win win win WIN. I got home to realize that I didn't buy the most important thing I had gone in for. And THEN I got a text from the FRG leader alerting me that I needed to make something for the Soldier Appreciation Day for the battalion TOMORROW. OF COURSE. I cannot bring myself to go back to the commissary. I went there this morning during low-tide, 7:30am. Now? If I went back there now? SUICIDE. And being sick does not help my attitude when it comes to wackadoos clogging up the teeny weeny aisles of the commissary on payday, trying to decide whether they should buy these pork feet, or those pork ears. Choices, choices, choices.

The poor soldiers will most likely end up with some gluten-free brownies, as that is the only thing I really have available in my pantry to bake at the moment. Or I could just stuff some Cheetos into ziploc bags and call it a day. I would personally, LOVE to receive bags of Cheetos. So I don't see how that could be a bad idea.

Speaking of receiving, Steve and I did absolutely nothing for Valentine's Day yesterday. Well, we said "Happy Valentine's Day" to each other, but that was about it. I asked him what he would like (alerting him to the fact that I had not gotten him anything yet), and he said something completely inappropriate for the internet, and then he asked me what I wanted and I said nothing. We agreed that cards would be a waste of money (would much prefer him to just write me a sweet note) and I need chocolate like I need a hole in the head (HINT: cannot breathe out of my nose, so chocolate is very much appreciated please and thank you), and I do not want him to go out and buy some crappy, bottom-of-the-barrel, overpriced bouquet of half-dead roses. I did mention, however, that a random bouquet of non-dead flowers on any other day of the year would be very well-received around these parts and (HINT HINT) chocolate will never be rejected.

By the time he finally got home from work, I was feeling particularly pathetic and possibly did not even offer to cook dinner. This could partly be because I didn't thaw anything out. (Oh, the SHAME.) But after watching him play with, feed, and bathe Sam, I started feeling some guilt and dug a skillet meal out of the freezer (Wife Of The Year, here I come). Then (then!) I also dug out some frozen cookie dough and made him some cookies. Well, by "make" I mean that I broke the little blocks apart and stuck them in the oven. Steve got them out of the oven and forced me to eat too many of them. He then told me that I could come upstairs five minutes after him and I could have the sink in the bathroom all to myself. What a lovely gift, as I could now go "put away" the rest of the cookies (snarf, snarf, snarf) and brush my teeth without worrying about random food particles colliding with the back of my head while Steve flosses and I jockey for the sink. (We have the tiniest bathroom in the history of bathrooms.) I finish brushing my teeth and applying my Breathe Right strip (hello hottie!) and find my sweet husband already passed out. I finish off the night by listening to Hypnobabies and almost strangling myself with the cord on my iPod.

Oh and my most favorite Valentine is my mom (sorry Steve). She sent me the SWEETEST package filled with chocolate (she knows how I operate) and this Clinique face lotion that I was hemming and hawing over while she was here visiting recently. I could not justify the cost, and that is why I was to the point of using a magnifying glass to find the last little bits of lotion in my sample tub yesterday morning, but she has saved the day and replenished my supply. THANK YOU MAMA! My face thanks you and Steve thanks you too for not letting me run out of quality chocolate.

Perhaps one day this weekend I will go "all out" and cook Steve a proper dinner and dessert and let him know how much his love means to me. I might even make him a homemade card and write a love letter and set the table and let him choose what we watch on tv for a change. I don't need one designated day each year to show my husband how much I love him. Quit it with the PRESSURE already, Hallmark. Geez.

I smell like brownies and urine, but I totally won today

Whoo y'all. Today was one for the books. I was very happy to put the little stinker to bed, close his door, and do a happy dance. It was, indeed, ONE OF THOSE DAYS.

Everything started out fine- he slept in (sort of), but that was because I kept him up til EIGHT PEE-EM last night. If you're new in town, that is ridiculously late for us. Sam is usually passed out by 6:30 and Steve and I follow suit around 8:30-9. So since there was an ill-timed nap yesterday afternoon (stupid mama never saw a nap she didn't love), he was practically flying around his room last night, rediscovering every single toy that he could possibly launch at my head. I, of course, was lying on the floor and being the best obstacle course and roadway for my son that I could. (Have GOT to remember to purchase some sort of giant pillow for future floor-lying. My giant hips. OUCH.)

Back to today though- Today was the day our lovely FRG was having a bake sale at the PX. I know there are question marks just EXPLODING out of your brains right now. A bake sale? On a Sunday? At the PX? Why? Isn't that a bit of a JV idea? Who wants to buy your homemade crap? Especially when we all know that you bought the pre-made cookie dough at the commissary late last night?

This is not poop on a wire rack.

Well! I will have you know that I had the extreme foresight to purchase boxes of brownie mix a whole TWO DAYS in advance and some mini muffin pans, because I was signed up to bring brownie bites. I even got cute little Valentine's Day bags to put them in. Heh! I'm so on top of things! Except time-management apparently, because the bake sale started at 10am and I was still standing in my kitchen at 9:57. Luckily for me, nothing was ready when I got there, so I didn't appear late at all. I was just someone to vent to about the un-readiness of everything! Whew! I can handle that!

I dropped off my brownie bites and watched our FRG leader arrange them on the table with the other baked goods. It was a lesson in self-control as I held back from placing them the way that I thought looked best.
You can't just scatter them all over the table! Line them up! Arrange them neatly! They are already too close to resembling Cupid's turdlets, there is no need to sacrifice presentation when we're already running late!
But alas, I kept my mouth shut and left. SOMEONE was whining (go figure!) and rubbing his eyes and yawning. Ahh, sounds like the signs of a morning nap to me! Jackpot!

We head home, I change his diaper and put Sam down for a nap. Usually there is resistance to the morning nap. It almost ALWAYS dies down quickly and he passes out, realizing that his screams are worthless. But not today. Today he had the fight in him. Today he battled with me for TWO AND A HALF HOURS STRAIGHT. One of the times I went up there to make sure he hadn't hung himself from his mobile, I walked in and he was lying down with his eyes almost completely closed, but was still yelling. Of course I had gone in there all storm-trooper-style ready to give him the stern "it's NAPTIME, young man" talk, but once I saw that he was lying down, I tried to stop and slowly back my way towards the door. But it was too late. I had been spotted (am very easy to spot these days) and was deemed an appropriate audience to scream for once again. DAMMIT I CAN'T WIN.

Do you have any idea how many of those chocolates I had to eat before I got to this message??

I figured that was probably his last stand since he was already horizontal that time, so it would only be a few more minutes of crying. Except that it wasn't. I finally just went and got him out of bed. First time I have EVER done that. I don't want to send mixed signals to him. Like, Oh if you cry long enough and hard enough, I'll come rescue you from that awful crib. But it was pretty obvious that his crying was not going to cease anytime soon. I fed him lunch and he just chatted away while he ate his cheese, oblivious to the fact that I was SO PISSED at him for not napping. And listening to his crying only made my blood pressure rise, so "naptime" was not even enjoyable or productive! Gah! But it was hard to stay angry at him for long. He is pretty cute.

My plan was to keep him up for the rest of the day. I know, classic rookie mistake, but I figured I could at least get an early bedtime out of him if he didn't nap. We waited until the afternoon to run errands. The mixture of driving on the interstate, having the heat on in the car, and Chris Daughtry playing softly in the background (I KNOW you guys, I finally ponied up and slipped in a new CD! We are saved! For now.), was the recipe for sleep apparently.

We get to Target and NOTHING is waking him up. Rats. He had probably been asleep for all of fifteen minutes. I fiddled around for a minute with different things in the car and then started getting ready to go inside. All I had to do was return one stinkin' item! What an awful day to not have a copilot/babysitter.

So I was a mean mom and woke him up. He was kinda pissed about it, not gonna lie. But once we started walking, he was fine. I tried to make up for waking him up by not browsing at all. We literally went straight to returns and walked back out. That, for me, is unheard of. It was hard too, and I think he was oblivious to my sacrifice. I was under the impression that groggy Sam would get buckled back into his carseat and fall asleep on our drive home. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Sometimes I even crack myself up.

Went to Kroger, got my prenatals filled (I guess, technically, they are just "natals" at this point in the game. We are so far past "pre" that it's not even funny.), and filled up with gas on post.

By the time we got back home, we still had a LOT of time to kill. So we went walking to the playground. Sam doesn't ever want to PLAY on the playground, he just likes walking around the perimeter of it, admiring it from afar if you will, and screeching random obscenities at the dogs we pass in the backyards along the way. It didn't take long for us to turn into popsicles and we headed back inside. Play, play, more play, ignore a tantrum or seven, and realize that it's dinnertime! Yay! After dinner is BED! Mama's most favorite time of the day is now within sight!!! YEEEEEEEHAW!

He was very cooperative eating dinner tonight and I even gave him a special Goldfish treat for correctly pointing to my nose when asked. (It's only a matter of time before I am nominated for some "Mom Of The Year" award, I know.) After eating something like half a box of Chex cereal (in addition to a normal amount of regular food containing some actual nutritional value), I call it quits on his dinnertime and haul him upstairs to change him. Nice timing too as his entire bottom is soaked in urine! Fabulous! I wrestle to get his clothes off of him (since sitting in urine is a HOOT apparently) and he proceeds to pee all over me. Breathe, breathe, breathe, just gotta lotion this kid up and brush his teeth. It won't be long now. He happily gets into bed and I shut the door without so much as a whine from the crib. I. WIN. YES.

Now it's time to have my requisite bowl of Cheerios and text Steve warning him about this extreme winter weather we're having and remind him to stay warm. (Like he isn't already completely aware of the weather situation since he is currently LIVING out in it. But it makes me feel helpful. Sort of.)

Here's to hoping that tomorrow is easier nap-wise and hopefully we won't get any snow. Probably the first time in the history of EVER that I'm wishing against snow, but geez, my honey is going to freeze his hiney off out there. It would be like rootin' for the Russians.

Maybe I should mention this child that's taking up valuable real estate in my abdominopelvic cavity

My brain is in a funk. And I'm not quite sure what to blame it on- pregnancy? Steve's field training? this stupid cold? a lack of chocolate? Ok, you caught me. There has been no lack of chocolate. Not since I rediscovered the peanut-butter chocolate Dove candies that Sam sent me for Christmas. (Sam, they are totally delicious and I cannot eat any less than four pieces at a time. My hips are starting to give you the evil eye. Second Baby says "thanks" though.)

There seems to be a lot going on with Steve's job right now, and that's kinda the only thing on my mind. But I don't wanna write about it. I can't write about it. So I'm left wondering what to write about. Because I gotta write about SOMETHING. I always feel better when I write something. But topics are hard to come by in this clunky gray matter of mine. Should I discuss: the injuries Sam has incurred since Steve's training began? The number of times I've eaten Cheerios for dinner these past few weeks? How ridiculous these Hypnobabies tracks sound to me the second time around? How few excuses we have to leave the house these days? The reality that since I got new yoga pants last weekend, I have yet to wear any other pants?

He is always so encouraging of the things I do. And he isn't hard on the eyes either, hm?

Obviously my brain is really hitting a blah note right now.

I'll just go ahead and update you on Second Baby. I have not been giving her/him the spotlight s/he deserves.

Let's see, I am still unaware of the sex of this baby. And nope, this is not a point of stress for me. Got the gender-neutral baby setup all under control and ready.

I am now 34 weeks along. My doctor recently asked me if I was ready to meet my baby soon and I told her that I was nowhere near ready yet. I told her that I was pregnant with my son for at least two years, and I don't think I've been pregnant with this child but five weeks. She looked at me and said that NO ONE says that. EVERYONE is ready to get the baby out, preferably early. I told her that I will have none of that. I will CHERISH my last six weeks of (mostly) sleeping straight through the night and I have no desire to meet this child any earlier than my due date. I will literally have ugly things to say to the person that calculated my due date if this baby comes any earlier than March 25. I'll be happy when you arrive kiddo, but I am really going to miss my sleep.

I refuse to reveal how much weight I have gained. I'm really bad at math anyway and the numbers to subtract from are really high, and how SAD is it when you need calculators to figure that sort of thing out? I am happier being ignorant on the matter.

I actually had a few contractions the other day. Sam and I were visiting a friend and her child at their house about a mile or so away. We lost track of time and I looked at the clock and suddenly realized that I needed to get home to feed Sam dinner. So I booked it back home, anxious to get this kid to bed on time. Apparently Second Baby has an aversion to exercise because s/he was all, "Slow it down! Don't make me come out to remind you!" I never had contractions with Sam until it was Go-Time, so it was really weird for me. I didn't know whether I should keep walking or sit down on the side of the road. I ended up getting home and everything settled down. But this does not provide much incentive for me to power-walk or do any other sort of strenuous exercise outside of hauling the small person up and down the stairs. Side note: I really hate stairs. And I have no friggin' clue how I'm going to work out the logistics of getting two tiny people up and down them all day long. Sam does not seem at all interested in learning to climb (he has taken a tumble or two down a couple of stairs and developed a healthy fear of climbing too high) and getting him to go DOWN the stairs seems downright laughable. I have a feeling that I need to bust out that Moby wrap and learn how to tie a good knot.

So, my question for you mamas with more than one child: What should I be doing during these last few weeks that will soon become much harder (or potentially impossible) with two children? I mean, besides sleeping. I am obviously on top of the sleep around here. And eating all of the chocolate.

Cloth diapering update

So I "officially" started cloth diapering Sammy on January 16. That means that we've been going at this for almost a month now. Wow! If I hadn't looked at the calendar to figure that out (because we all know I have no concept of what number day it is around here), I would have guessed that I'd been cloth diapering for MONTHS now! Possibly even a year!

I don't mean that in a bad way (well, not entirely, at least). I just feel like we're running through them quickly and then hey! It's time to do diaper laundry again! This has been a good thing though because laundry is one of my areas of weakness. (Don't look so shocked.) And you would think that this would be such an easy task since a MACHINE does all of the work for me. But that machine is so efficient! It dings and then I forget about it and a few days later when I go to do another load of laundry, I find that I never quite got around to emptying those towels out of the washer.... ew. So at least with the (near constant) washing of diapers, it has kept me more on my toes about cycling the wash around. It tends to get washed, dried, folded, and put away faster than before.

I have not come up with some stellar alternate plan of air-drying the diapers since the last time we talked about this. That little rack is so perfectly sized for the amount of diapers and inserts that I wash that I can't bring my (lazy) self to do anything else. So the dogs have to be surrounded by clean laundry while they sleep! Tough life! I'm sure they will learn to deal.

We solved the nighttime leaking issues by putting one of his disposable pee pads in his diaper at night, just like we used to with his disposable diapers, and we haven't had a leaking issue since.

Sam used to have a lot of irritation and rashes down in his nether regions (sorry future Sammy, or are we calling you Samuel now?) when wearing disposables, and while we made sure to keep dry diapers on him and apply ointments and creams, it never cleared up. Finally, FINALLY, we have some relief. He has made a 100% improvement in that department and I truly believe it was the chemicals in the disposable diapers that were causing his skin irritations.

I don't know if it's Sam's stage in life or what, but I am not finding a diaper sprayer to be necessary. Forgive the graphic nature of this sentence, but I find his poops so well-formed that they literally just fall right off the diaper and into the toilet. Of course, you must have some cat-like reflexes to avoid being hit by the splash of the turdlets (sadly, big pregnant ladies are not known for their quick reflexes). I have only had to employ the spatula two or three times, and those have all been since he started on his antibiotic this past week, so I'm obviously blaming the medicine for those particular BM's.

So this cloth diapering thing has been no big deal so far. I highly recommend it! And Cotton Babies is still running the sale where I initially stocked up on Sam's diapers, making each diaper approximately $11.96. Quite the steal when you see that they are usually selling for about $20 a pop. I noticed that they only have hook and loop diapers left on sale, and I can't speak for those since I purchased all snap diapers. So proceed with caution! Do a little research! Leave a comment or email me if you've got any questions about our cloth diapering experience so far!

**Unfortunately, no one compensated me to write this post or gave me free diapers, or even discounted diapers, and Cotton Babies has no clue who I am. I'm just hoping that if you're interested in cloth diapering that you might check them out and see what they've got, and maybe the stuff on clearance will work for you. I'm all about clearance, baby.**

A to Z

There is a LOT going on over here, so I'm doing this to avoid writing about any of it. Enjoy!

A. Age: 25 (and I am about 94% sure that that answer is correct)

B. Bed size: Queen. We finally graduated from Steve's ultra-cheap full bed where the springs were literally visible through the mattress and now have the bed of our dreams. What a difference a good mattress makes when you're pregnant. I'm still a little shocked that Sam and I both don't have severe cases of scoliosis from that mattress.

C. Chore that you hate: I really hate changing diapers. I know, I know, that is SUCH a part of being a mom, especially for the stay-at-home variety such as myself, but the fight that comes from every single change just wears on me... Why, little person, WHY do you want to continue sitting in feces?? It is so mind-boggling.

D. Dogs: I think we've covered this one before. Pug= sweet face, disposition, and would love nothing more than her own personal litterbox so she never has to set foot outside ever again. Beagle= thorn in my side.

E. Essential start to your day: A giant glass of milk followed by coffee. Oh there's a diaper change before all of that too. Which means screaming. And usually poop. But I mostly just look forward to the coffee.

F. Favorite color: Yellow. It's so happeeeeeee!!!

G. Gold or silver: Silver or white gold.

H. Height: 5'8". That was considered freakishly tall until the boys in middle school finally hit their growth spurts and caught up.

I. Instruments that you play: My fingers haven't completely forgotten how to play the piano, but I'm pretty sure my lips are no longer trained to play the trumpet or French horn. (Yes, such a band nerd.)

J. Job title: Wife. Mama. Dog feeder. Hiney-wiper. Retriever of lost toys under the couch. Chef. Chauffeur. Stroller-pusher. House cleaner. Laundry-folder. Baby-incubator.

K. Kids: Sam- 16 months; Second Baby- T minus 7 weeks.

L. Live: Fort Campbell

M. Mother's name: Mama (HA, kidding). Cathy.

N. Nicknames: Jenn (says Steve). *grunt grunt* (says Sam) 

O. Overnight hospital stays: Had jaw surgery in 2000 and a baby in 2010. I'm looking forward to my next overnight vacation at the all-inclusive resort sometime in late March. (Apparently you must BYOB as there is not a wine option on the menu. Ah, I will just add it in my overnight bag next to the super-dee-duper maxi pads.)

P. Pet peeves: I cannot stand to watch Steve bite his nails. Or rip little hairs out of his body. Both of those things give me the heebies and I've let him know this in no uncertain terms so WHY IS HE STILL DOING THESE THINGS.

Q. Quote from a movie: "I'm a short, fat slut." Goldie Hawn in Overboard.

S: Siblings: I have the SWEETEST big brother, Daniel, two younger twin brothers, Matthew and Travis, and a younger sister that has way better style than me, Elizabeth.

T: Travel favorite: I used to enjoy flying in planes, but AHAHAHAHA- no more.

U. Underwear: My underwear is the equivalent of mom jeans. But I am comfortable. Does that count for anything at all?

V. Vegetable(s) you hate: Mushrooms. Oh they're squishy and slimy and fungus-y and I can just now tolerate them on pizza. But I could probably eat anything that is surrounded by dough and sauce and cheese...

W. What makes you run late: I will go ahead and blame the child on this one. But usually it's my inability to realize that it no longer takes me 5 minutes to get ready and walk out the door. There is a small person to account for, and he needs a little entourage of things before we can leave the house for ten minutes, so I should probably start planning for outings about 30 minutes in advance.

X. X-rays you've had: Just my teeth and my arm.

Y. Yummy food that you make: I make some decent chicken recipes, as well as some killer chocolate chip banana bread.

Z. Zoo animal: I used to love the giraffes, but now hippos seem a little more relatable...

I'm warning you now that this post mentions poop way more than once, so I wouldn't recommend eating anything while you're reading this.

I'm still here! Sammy was so generous as to share his little sickness with me, and we are just counting down the days until Steve's training ends.

My saint of a mother came up this past weekend and did many saintly things. The most impressive was scooping my son's poop out of the tub WITH HER BARE HANDS. This sets a precedent for mothering that I'm not sure I can ever (or want to) live up to. And yes, this was right after I told her that Sam had never pooped in the tub.
The night I told her that he had never peed on me before his bath was the night he decided to go all super-soaker on my pants.
And after telling her that he loves peas, he immediately decided that it was the most vile food ever planted on this earth.

My child is out to make me a huge liar apparently.

But it was not all bad! (Well, not for me at least. I can't speak for my mom.) Steve got to come home for 36 hours for a Superbowl DONSA. (I will not even go into how I feel about this as it would be a lot of all-caps and symbols that might give you the impression that I'm screaming at you, when in reality, I just want to scream at the command at this godforsaken post.) So! He came home. And then 20 minutes later, he left again. Well, it felt like 20 minutes. Such a tease. We DID, however, get to go on a date. My mom graciously offered to watch the whiner while we went out on Sunday to run errands. (Oh the joy of running errands without time constraints! and diapers to check! and sippy cup levels to worry about! and nap schedules to work around! and buckling the resistant small person into his carseat! It was pure HEAVEN.)

It was so nice just hanging out with Steve. I LOVE MY HUSBAND. Being alone with him makes me totally remember why I married this handsome hunk o' man. We talked, laughed, browsed, people-watched, shared a pretzel, saw a movie, made jokes, attempted to figure out the future (but that proved to be entirely too much thinking for a weekend), had dinner OUT, commented on how weird it felt to be out of the house past dark, looked around in a panic whenever we heard someone else's kid cry, talked about Sam, listened to music, high-fived after Steve scored a major deal (at Babies R Us- OMG we are such LOSERS), and then yawned when we realized it was almost 8pm. We caught Sam still up (again, Saint Mama working miracles right before our eyes, as he usually goes to bed at 6:30), said goodnight to him, and caught the last couple minutes of the Superbowl. Then we passed out cold because we were worn out from all of our freedom.

I can't say enough awesome things about my mom. I know, I know, she's my mom and I'm probably a thousand percent biased, but she's just so helpful! And my kid's incessant whining doesn't seem to phase her! And she even wanted to learn how to wash the diapers! And she let me go to the commissary alone! And she brought chocolate gooey bars! And did I mention that she pulled Sam's turdlets out of the bathtub WITH HER BARE HANDS?! <sigh> It was sad to watch her go. And I feel all kinds of awful because I didn't take a single picture while she was here. (Sorry Mama!)

So that's where we've been the past few days. We're on the road to recovery (hopefully) with this ear infection, snot-nosed, chest congestion crap, and if I didn't have to pee every 0.8 seconds (I'm now 33+ weeks! Someone hold me), we might be able to go somewhere or do something (although we will need to venture out soon for more toilet paper and tissues). But for now, we are hanging out at home, watching our neighbors move out. Great entertainment with the movers going in and out of the house, the big truck backing into the cul-de-sac, and their little dog losing his ever-lovin' mind in the backyard at all of the activity. We've got a playdate this afternoon to take a walk and play on the playground and hit up the shoppette for a 69 cent fountain drink during "happy hour." So obviously, life is fabulous.

Eleven.

Amanda from Somewhere Over The Camo tagged me to do this little questionnaire (and by "little" I do mean "gigantic"), so without further ado....

The Rules
1. You must post the rules (and link up who tagged you).
2. Post eleven fun facts about yourself on the blog post.
3. Answer the questions the tagger set for you in their post, and then create eleven new questions to ask the people you've tagged.
4. Tag however many people you want.
5. Let them know you've tagged them!


Eleven Facts
1. I love wine.

2. I love chocolate.

3. I love Steve and Sam.

4. If I were a little more motivated, I would go back and reorganize my loves in order of importance, and wine would still be really close to the top.

5. I have become heavily dependent upon coffee in recent years. I think it has something to do with the Army and kids. Just a guess.

6. I would love to be able to afford all organic food for my family. But alas, I sometimes cannot justify paying double the cost for ratty-looking organic lettuce at the commissary when the regular stuff looks much fresher (and is undoubtedly cheaper).

7. I really enjoyed growing up in the South, but am not sure now if I can return to live in such heat. I am apparently some kind of freak of nature for being in love with winter.

8. I can't stand Adele's music. And I think I'm the only person who feels that way.

9. I'm not on Facebook or Twitter and I don't watch the news. I truly enjoy living in this happy little bubble of ignorance.

10. I usually drink about two gallons of skim milk per week. And that is by myself...

11. I clip coupons. I'm not one of those crazy "extreme couponers" that stockpiles Tic-Tacs and tampons, but I regularly buy two newspapers on Sunday and spend a total of an HOUR per week organizing them. And ya know what? I just saved $30 at the commissary today using coupons, so if you think that's crazy... well, I guess thirty free dollars doesn't appeal to you. And that makes me think YOU are crazy.


Eleven Questions:
1. If you could drive any car you wanted, what would you drive?
My dream car would never need to be filled with gasoline, always have a functioning a/c system, and never NEVER hoard sippy cups under the seat. There is nothing worse than finding some old, stank sippy cup filled with crusty-looking cottage cheese under your seat when you're cleaning out the car.

2. Are you a clean freak or let the house get a little messy kind of person?
There are certain things in the house that I neglect. Toilets are probably my biggest offense. My floors are usually quite immaculate these days thanks to the Shark, and I tend to stay on top of the dishes because it annoys me to see them sitting in the sink all dirty and crusty. So while I don't consider myself a clean freak, I don't feel overly messy either.

3. What is your dream job and why?
My dream job is being a SAHM. I have always wanted to do this, and I'm so thankful to Steve for the opportunity to live it out!

4. If you have the opportunity to go anywhere in the world, where would you go and what would you do?
Ooh, toughie. I would probably go with Europe (nice, broad answer) so that I could see multiple countries in one trip. I love the history and culture and food and beautiful buildings there. But my alternate destination would be Fiji. I really need to go there and see that water with my own two eyes.

5. What is one personal goal you have for yourself?
I want to look good naked. (Sorry if that just grossed all five of you readers out. But it is just that- a PERSONAL goal.)

via Pinterest

6. What is the best advice anyone has ever given you?
"Don't wake a sleeping baby." Not that I had a chance to (SAM, I'm lookin' at YOU), but I'm hoping to try out this advice on Second Baby.

7. When did you know that your significant other/spouse was someone you wanted to be with?
Probably when he told me he loved me. It was so sweet and I think the Earth stopped spinning for at least a minute.

8. Do you have any pets?  If so, what are they?  If not, do you want any?
I have two dogs. One is a pug (I love her), and one is a beagle-mutt (and I do not like her so much). I also herd multiple dust bunnies on a regular basis.

9. Do you make the bed when you get up in the morning?
If I happen to go back into our room after waking up, I'll make the bed. But usually once I get out of bed, I don't go back in there until it's time to go back to sleep. We hit the floor runnin' around here.

10. Are you more comfortable in the city or the country or somewhere in between?
I like the idea of living in the country, but CLOSE TO a city. I don't ever want to live in some cookie-cutter suburbia, but I also don't want to live in a tiny downtown apartment with kids. Would love some land, some animals, and a garden (despite my propensity to kill every green thing I touch).

11. What is the craziest thing you have ever done?
Since I am a fairly boring person, I will go with mystery on this one and say that I have done so many crazy things that I can't risk sharing any of them on the Internet.

Eleven New Questions:
1. How many states have you traveled to and which was your favorite?
2. Would you be more likely to be featured on an episode of Hoarders, What Not To Wear, or Wife Swap?
3. If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
4. Do you try to leave one or two little pieces of toilet paper on the roll so you don't have to change it? Or are you the martyr that changes it as soon as it starts running low?
5. What is your favorite comfort food?
6. How old would you be if you didn't know how old you were?
7. Are you brand-loyal when buying laundry detergent, or do you grab whatever is cheapest?
8. Tea: sweet? unsweet? hot? cold?
9. Do you ever believe what your fortune cookie says? Or has one of the fortunes in your cookie ever come true?
10. If you could meet anyone, dead or alive, who would it be and why?
11. If you were forced to choose, which of these things could you live without forever: TV, internet, or condiments?

Tag! You're it!
Sam @ Moody Mama
Rebekah @ Southern Roots & Combat Boots
Abby @ the A team