When I last left you, moppets, I was about to head in for a c-section. We called my doula, who was on her way home and was like, “What? Now? Okay, hold on, I have to changes shoes!” (No flip-flops in the OR, which apparently is a rule. Besides, who wants to get placenta on
Category: Jethro
Tater’s Birth story, Part One
Oh, the long overdue birth story. Five months later. It still feels weird to share this; not because it’s too private, but because it’s still a trip to think that it happened. I HAD A BABY, Y’ALL. Not that I could forget. He’s in the other room, yelling at the dog. (Who was it that
A Quick Update
No, Kind of a Mess hasn’t turned into a book reviewing blog. (How AWESOME would that be, though? Seriously, these reviews are crazy fun… I’ve been tempted to do a spin-off blog, but if I can’t feed and water this one, I probably shouldn’t get another pet.) Tater’s birth story, and proper normal blogging, is
Introducing…
Marshall Ryan.
9 more weeks? Sh*t.
Ah, pregnancy. Between growing a tiny human, work, class and trying to make Jethro do the dishes more than once a week (I mean, REALLY, son?) my second trimester was busy. And fun, though I wish I’d realized how fun it was at the time. Seriously, I could be 6 months pregnant for the rest
The agony of defeat
So I had my 20 week sonogram on Tuesday. I spent the night before bouncing off the walls and talking too much, and the day-of feeling like I was going to throw up. The sono wasn’t just about finding out the sex, it was about whether Tater was growing correctly, had all the right parts,
Dustbuster Wars
I want a DustBuster. Very. Badly. Jethro will not let me have one. Before anyone starts hollering about partnership, Jethro and I have an unspoken agreement about bossing each other around when it comes to our personal quirks. Occasionally, Jethro needs a kick in the butt when it comes to motivation and keeping positive. (He’s
I am already a bad mother.
I am 17 weeks along, or just a little over 4 months. Well, mostly. Here’s the thing about pregnancy weeks. Some people, like my mean doctor, like to count you as far along as you are—as in I am 16 weeks because 16 weeks have already past. Some people, like my lovely pregnancy tracker, count
Baby Freak-Out No. 1*
So, I’m truckin’ along, finally feeling human enough to get some cleaning done (some as in very little) when I discover an information card from an old wallet of mine. You know, the kind you get with your wallet that you can list all your personal information on in case you lose your wallet or
Birthday Wishes!!
Well, this week was a giant bag of fail in terms of posting, huh? I should work on that…or watch more Netflix and do some more cross-stitch, which is probably more likely. However, I had to pop in today to say that Jethro turns 34 on Saturday and I want to publicly wish the happiest
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