Who the hell needs teeth anyway?

F*ck teeth.

Or more specifically, f*ck baby teeth.

We were just cruisin' along, feelin' badass because Sadie is awesome and sweet and happy and sleeps through the night (big ups to YOU Dr. Ferber)and then BAM!

Teeth.

And not just one or two or even three...SIX.

SIX MOTHER EFFIN BABY TEETH AT ONCE.

And now my sweet girl is like a mix of Damien from the Omen, Linda Blair from the Exorcist, Veruca Salt from Willy Wonka on a speedball bender.

Ok, she's not that bad. She still is pretty much the cutest kid ever and sweet as pie but her sleep has gone to shit. I'm up everyday between 4-5 AM pumping her full of Motrin and reverting to the old days where I tried to induce coma with my magical breasts. Dr. Ferber's about to come in her and kick my lazy ass but he can suck it. I've gotten used to sleeping through the night. I can't go back to that place.

In a moment of sleep deprived delirium I started thinking about how stupid it is for a baby to even get teeth. It's not like I've been all, "Hey Sadie, I'd sure love to feed you baby back ribs and beef jerkey. If only you had some chompers." The kid eats fricken mashed up apples, cheerios and cheese cubes for God's sake. That lady from Hoarders who lost her dentures in her trash pile could survive on Sadie's diet. Then I started thinking, shit, most of the BEST foods don't require teeth.

1. Ice cream
2. Soft cheeses
3. Creme brulee
4. Mashed potatoes
5. Chocolate souffle (or any souflee really)

So there you have it. I'm banging the gavel and saying no more teeth.

Oh, and I have to give a shout out to Mr. Val for getting a new job and kickass raise. Lord knows we need it, someone's gonna have to pay for all this Brie & Creme Brulee.

XOXO,

The gas crisis.

I used to think that a gas crisis was when I had to pay over $2 per gallon for fuel. Now I know better. The true gas crisis?

Baby flatulence.

Baby gas is no joke. At its best, baby gas gets you a disgusting, barfed on shirt and a stinky bedroom. At its worst it gets you an all nighter of banshee style wailing. The Sadester has been suffering from really bad gas lately and it's KILLING me. I've resigned myself to the fact that we are a long way from sleeping through the night, but the gas turns a typical 2 wake night into a 6 wake night.

I feel terrible for her, b/c I know she's in pain but I just want to help the damn kid fart so I can catch some shut eye. And since I'm breastfeeding, I always wind up wracked with guilt; was it the Brie I just housed? God I hope not. The only thing worse than a gassy baby is a life without cheese.

Who knew procuring farts from my child was going to become such an important part of my life? Aaaah, parenthood. Now pull my finger, or better yet, Sadie's.

XOXO,

A day in the life.

6:00 AM: Wake up. Barf/Fart/Burp/Poop or all three. Yell at mom for some boob. Get said boob. Barf/Fart/Burp/Poop again. Have mom change diaper & put me in the first outfit of the day.

6:00-7:00 AM: Yell & flail about happily while daddy makes funny faces. Contemplate pooping again. Look in that reflective thingy and wonder who that cool baby is and why there are 2 mommas. This world is blowin' my mind.

7:00 AM: Kiss mommy & daddy goodbye. Try to barf on them so they remember me all day. Flail about happily in grandma's arms. Look generally adorable.

8:00: AM: Get in swing. Stare at the lambs that keep moving in a circle above me. Wonder where they are trying to go and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

10:00 AM: What the hell happened? Why am I still swinging and WHY ISN'T THERE A NIPPLE IN MY MOUTH.

11:15 AM: Phew. Portable nipple put in my mouth. Crisis averted.

11:30 AM: Barf/Fart/Burp/Poop, preferably all over myself. Enter outfit #2.

12:00 PM: Lay down on floor with grandma and try to roll over. Almost got it...success! Wait, how did I get on my back? I think I'll fart and barf again until it all makes sense. Cue outfit number 3.

12:30 PM: Emergency: Grandma has pinned my arms down and put me in a straight jacket. I'm in a weird cage like contraption and a giant sheep is making whale sounds above my head and I totally don't get it and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

2:00 PM: How do they keep tricking me into sleeping? Time to yell. NEED MORE BOOB. Mom's not here so how does grandma keep giving me her milk? I'll ask the lambs.

4:00 PM: At grandma's house. She keeps bringing me over here and putting me in another cage like thing with a giraffe that makes chirping sounds and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

5:00 PM: NARDS! They tricked me again. I'll show them...blowout+spitup=Sadie's revenge. I was getting sick of that outfit anyway.

6:00 PM: Doorbell. I'll get it. Wait, I can't walk. In walks....MOMMY & DADDY! YAY! I'm so excited I can't decide whether to laugh or cry! How about a little of both? Wait, what the...they're strapping me down again? This time in a chair? Now we are in the giant bouncy seat that moves and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

6:30 PM: They're sneaky, I'll give them that.

7:00 PM: Why I am I naked? I'm naked and being put in this warm, soapy bowl that feels AWESOME. So awesome I think I'll pee in it. There is a whale that spits water at me and we talk a little bit. I tell him about my day and how weird it was. He totally gets me. Good listener.

7:20 PM: Wait...this feels good, why are they taking me out? I think I'll voice my displeasure. No, I don't want to put a diaper on! LET ME BE FREE WOMAN. Hear comes the jammies. I scream a bit for good measure but truthfully, I kind of like jammies. They keep my feet so warm.

7:30 PM: No no, not the baby straight jacket! I'll be good, I swear! I'm so mad, can't you tell by all the YELLING AND SCREAMING??? Why won't you help me dude? You just keep walking and shushing and rocking me and it's getting darker and maybe this isn't so bad and zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Tricky bastards. Oh well, there's always tomorrow.

XOXO,

Sadie

Life in the fast lane.

To quote my favorite show, Always Sunny in Philadelphia, "WASSUP BITCHES???"

I'm back at work which, surprisingly, means I'll be able to Blog again! Unlike my tyrannical little imp Sadie, my employer is legally obligated to give me breaks and stuff. More often than not I have to use them to milk myself but every now and then I get to steal a moment to play on the interwebz. So let's start off with a checklist of what's going on in the Valentine household as of late:

1. Mama is back at work: This is going surprisingly well. Before I was back at work I was racked with guilt about leaving Sadie Bug. Would she remember me? Miss me? Wind up on a bell tower in 16 years because of some working mother abandonment complex? I'm pleased to report that yes, she does in fact remember me; my mother in law lies to me and tells me that Sadie misses me desperately all day long; She has yet to pick up an automatic weapon or write a manifesto, so we appear to be good on all fronts.

I miss her like crazy all day long, but seeing her little face at the end of the day is amazing, especially now that she smiles and giggles at me all the time. Our mornings are fun too, we nurse and get up and play for a little bit before I get ready for work. Let me tell you, my "Pat-a-cake" rendition KILLS with the infant set. KILLS.

2. Sadie smiles! And laughs!: The smiling happens on the regular, the laughing happens when you've done something TRULY AMAZING like kiss her neck, nibble her toes or make up some awesomely weird baby-centric lyrics set to the tune of "Whoomp, There It Is!". We call her Dubya because at this point her laugh is a weird chuckle reminiscent of our last fearless leader, which is super awkward since the mister and I are both die hard liberals. I just hope she doesn't invade any Middle Eastern countries unprovoked. ZING!

3. New Wheels: There comes a time, once you've had a baby, put your hubs in grad school, work full time and move to the burbs where you have to come to terms with a second vehicle. We've been a one vehicle house for years, but the logistics were becoming insane. Like trying to solve a rubix cube on an Absinthe bender. (Which I totally recommend trying at least once in your life.) We hemmed, we hawed, we pondered incredibly insensible cars (I totally need a Mercedes, right?) but in the end wound up with a cute little Ford Focus. We got a kick ass deal on a year old model that is loaded (as loaded as a Ford gets that is). It's super fun to drive and very safe and I feel super patriotic for buying my first American vehicle. Take THAT right wingers. You may have guns and Sarah Palin but I have a piece of Detroit engineering in my garage bitches. It almost offsets the Huyandai aka "Axles of Evil" Tucson that we also own.

4. I'm skinnier than before I was pregnant: This is a total attention whore moment. I am totally one of those chicks that other chicks hate. I was at my pre-pregnancy weight at my 6 week post partum appointment and now weigh about 5 pounds less. Before you start sending me hate mail, please remember that a.) I had a 10 pound baby b.)I have to breastfeed said 10 lb. baby and c.) I have to lug around that 10 (now 15 lb.) baby all the time. Call up US Weekly, that should be the new Hollywood fab diet, the "TEN POUND BABY DIET". I bet the Kardashian skanks will fully be onboard, until they realize that they have to parent the baby too. Babies totally interfere with the "let's wear way too much eye makeup while living off our late father's estate and trolling for professional athletes to sponge off" lifestyle. But I digress.

Anyhow, life in Valentine land is pretty awesome. My baby rocks, my husband is super cute and I fit into my skinny jeans again. Now if I could just fit into all my shoes...

XOXO,

The wonder of 4 AM.

I'm a working mom. I'm a working mom for many reasons: financial, emotional, professional and personal. I've never had an interest in being a stay at home mom; I enjoy my work and the satisfaction of helping provide for my family. That said, as the date of my return to work fast approaches, I'm incredibly sad. I am beside myself that I'll be missing out on the mid-morning snuggles of our first nap of the day. I'm sad that instead of staring into my sweet girl's eyes while we nurse, I'll be pumping in the empty office down the hall. I'm sad that it will (until Spring) be dark when I leave and come home. But this is our reality, our life and while I know it will be fine, I'm allowing myself to wallow a little bit right now.

I'm actually somewhat excited too. Part of me is looking forward to the mental stimulation, the chance to get out of the house and the reality of 8 spit-up free hours a day! And therein lies the weird dilemma of working motherhood: the somewhat schizophrenic reality of wanting to be the sole caretaker of your child but also wanting to have a life outside of the domestic realm.

In the interest of full disclosure, my darling husband has said (and would) support me if I wanted to stop working. But the reality is that our quality of life and our desire to create the world that I want for Sadie requires me to work for now. Mr. Val accelerated his graduate school plans so that he can afford us the opportunity to choose a different situation but that is still 2 years away. In the meantime, our priorities dictate that we both need to work outside the home to give our daughter all that she deserves in this world.

I feel guilty complaining because our situation is so much better than so many people right now. Mr. Val and I both have great jobs within understanding and flexible environments. On top of that, my daughter will be in the best hands possible as her wonderful Grandma will be watching her. I will never have the words to thank my wonderful Mother in law for that. If I can't watch my daughter all day, there is no better choice than family and we are so incredibly blessed to have family that want to provide that for our darling girl.

I also have to remind myself that it is temporary. My husband works his adorable butt off all day every day to bring us closer to the next phase of our life where I can have the option to work, work part time or not work at all. Every day that I wake up next to this amazing man I pinch myself. Since the day I met Mr. Val my life has gotten better and better; I know that the years to come will be no exception.

Today we started Sadie's college fund. Mr. Val and I take a lot of pride in our ability to provide not just the basics for our daughter but the extras as well. It is these things that wake us up early in the morning to ride our respective trains to work and keep us up studying into the wee hours of the morning. And it is her smiling face that has made 4:00 AM a wonderful hour to be awake. 4 AM is the hour of the day that is just hers and mine. It's the hour where we stare at each other while I nurse her and say that we love each other with our eyes. It's the hour where we pad quietly around the house until she drifts back to sleep. It's the hour where Mr. Val sleepily rolls over and tells us he loves us. It's the hour that would have never seen me awake a year ago...but now I love 4 AM because it is the hour that each new day begins for my family, full of love.

And that's what working motherhood will be for me. Stealing the moments that matter, since love isn't dictated by the quantity of time you spend together but the quality. It will be sad to leave her each day but so wonderful to see her smiling face at the end of each one. I will miss snuggling her at noon but will look forward to 4 AM...because that is our moment each day to make it count and no one can take it from us.



XOXO,

Love is all you need.

And I LOVE this little face so much that it literally takes my breath away sometimes.




XOXO,

Your baby is an asshole.

Before you get mad at me, it's a line from Sex and the City. And no, I don't think my baby is an asshole.

Well, not all the time anyway.

But seriously? Having a baby is no joke y'all. They are like, SUPER needy, round the clock. I liken the new baby experience to a Wiley Coyote cartoon, where he gets an anvil dropped on his head by the roadrunner (which makes no logistical sense by the way, the roadrunner was way too skinny to carry an anvil, but that's a topic for another time). Anyway, he'd get the anvil to the head and be smooshed into the ground and then he'd peel himself off the pavement and little birds would be swirling around his head and there was an anvil shaped dent in his noggin.

That's pretty much how I feel everyday.

And I have an EASY baby. No, I don't have one of those babies that magically sleeps through the night or can already help me with laundry, but I do have a super sweet little girl who isn't colicky or fussy, who loves to snuggle all day and sleeps pretty well at night. Plus, I have a super awesome husband who helps do everything short of nurse her, which I wouldn't put past him if he thought he could.

However, the reality of child rearing is that even under such ideal circumstances, it's exhausting. I have no idea how single parents do it or parents of super fussy/colicky babies. Y'all are better women than I.

That said, it's the most amazing experience I've ever had and I love my little Sadie so much it actually takes my breath away. Since I've had her for 8 weeks now, I'm pretty much a baby expert, so here are some of my lessons learned to date:

1. Having a baby shines a whole new light on yourmom. I've been peed on, pooped on and barfed on daily since my little Sadie Bear came home. This kid is prolific in the bodily fluid category. And I did all this to my mom. Just know this: your baby will be a giant karmic kick in the ass for what you put your parents through.

2. You will make parenting choices you swore you never would. You know those proclamations you made pre-baby? "I won't be a short order cook" or "I'll never let my kid watch TV" or "I won't buy my kid anything with a Disney character on it".

Yeah you will. You'll do ALL of it and like it. You know that beautiful nursery I showed you a while back? It's essentially a very well appointed walk in closet for Sadie. Where does Sadie sleep you ask? Why right next to me in bed. Yep. We are thoseparents. Turns out that nursing a baby is kind of a round the clock job. And this mama didn't exactly love getting out of bed 4 times a night to lug my 10 pound bambina in and out of bed, so here we are, co-sleeping. I know, I know, you aren't supposed to sleep with your kid. But you know what? I LIKE IT. She likes it. And Mr. Val likes it too. So that's what we do.

3. Baby swings are little Christmas miracles, sent from Jesus. Our Fisher Price Papasan baby swing is the only reason my house doesn't look like a Hoarders episode. No joke, that shit is like baby crack. Or baby Valium, more precisely.

4. Being a mom makes you pensive. Since I've had Sadie, I've thought a lot about the many children who are not born into such loving families with parents that have the resources to care for them. I think it weighed heavy on my mind b/c of the holidays as I imagined all the little kids who don't wake up to food everyday, let alone presents. This has spurred Mr. Val and I to give back a little more, through charity and hopefully our own actions throughout the year.

5. LET PEOPLE HELP YOU. This is probably the best advice I got and the best advice I can give. If your wonderful Mother in Law asks if you want her to bring you breakfast/lunch/dinner, say YES. If your mom and stepdad buy you and your husband massages for Christmas and offer to babysit? Say YES. If your friends offer to come over and just hang out with your baby so you can bathe? Say YES. Your own psyche and your husband will thank you.

6. Get on birth control ASAP. I kid, but truly, this kid is adorable but we have ZERO interest in another for at LEAST 3 years. I told Mr. Val that I wouldn't even think about until then, but since he isn't sold on the idea of 3 sexless years of marraige, to the IUD I go.

Oh, and one last tip, try to have a kid as adorable as Sadie. It makes the 4 AM explosive poops much easier to laugh at.

XOXO,

She's late, she's late for a very important date.

My baby is a squatter.

I am officially one week past my due date and I'll be honest, I'm not handling it well. I had a doctor's appointment on Monday where they confirmed that I've made ZERO progress at all. Luckily, my doctors office is very understanding of crazy pregnant women and said I could pick my induction date which is tomorrow! Tomorrow evening Mr. Val and I will check into the hospital to have a baby. That has to be one of the most surreal sentences I've ever typed.

I'm not going to lie, I'm a little freaked out. But I got my meltdown out of the way on Monday and now I'm just excited to meet my little princess. I'm hoping that all I need is the kick start and that I can deliver her but if not the most important thing is that I hold my healthy baby girl by week's end.

One cool thing about the induction date is that I will likely deliver her on Friday, which is my late Grandmother's birthday. When we were deciding on a name it was either going to be Sadie Elizabeth or Sadie Joan, after one of my grandmas. We decided on Joan who is my Mom's mom. Now it looks like my sweet Sadie will have one grandma's name and the other's birthday, which I think is pretty cool. A little nod from my Grandma Betty in heaven perhaps?

Anyway, we are just counting down the hours now and I'm in full on nesting crazy mode. Cooking, cleaning and getting ready to meet this wonderful little person that we are already so in love with.

XOXO,

Who says blue is only for boys?

Here is the long overdue post about Sadie's nursery. I knew right away I wanted to do a blue/red nursery, regardless of the baby's gender. I think my obsession with this color combo stems from my obsession with "The Wizard of Oz", since Dorothy is wearing kick ass ruby slippers with a cornflower blue gingham dress. The room took a decidedly girly turn though, with lots of vintage touches and feminine fabrics. I absolutely adore this room...it's pretty and feminine without the usual pink/purple suspects which is nice. I've caught both Mr. Val and Jake just sitting in this room a few times, which is just about the cutest thing ever. So, without further ado, I give you "Casa de Sadie":





















Although Mr. Val and I never really sat down with a "budget" for the nursery, we actually wound up doing it all for a pretty reasonable amount of money. Mr. Val pretty much lets me do/have whatever I want, so I wanted to try to be somewhat restrained. I must preface that we saved a significant amount of money on the crib set up, since my father & stepmother bought it & the mattress and my husband's mother & stepfather bought our linens. So here are the details:

Paint: Valspar "Simply Seafoam" & supplies - $50
Rug: Overstock.com - $165
Glider: used/gift - FREE
Crib: Graco Lauren (gift) - FREE
Crib/Glider Fabrics: Waverly "Seafarer Stripe" in Crimson & "Mini Muse" in Sorbet (gifts) - FREE
Throw pillows for crib/glider: Etsy $15/$20/$15
Vinyl Wall Decal: Etsy - $50
Curtain Rod: Ikea - $10
Red Ticking Stripe Curtains: Amazon - $40
French Market poster: already had - FREE
Strawberry Photograph: Etsy - $25
Frames for wall art: $8-10 at Hobby Lobby
Skeleton Keys: Pottery Barn - $30 for set
Ribbon: JoAnn's - $1
Dresser: Craigslist - $65
Paint/supplies to refinish dresser: $30 at Home Depot
Hardware for dresser: $20 at Hobby Lobby
Wall shelves: Ikea - $30
Bookshelves: Craigslist - $85 for 3
Lamps: Target - $15-30
Changing pad/tray: Land of Nod (we are still waiting for the tray) $129
Changing pad cover: Caden Lane - $16 (sale)

So, I don't have the patience to add that all up, but I know we did a pretty kick ass job for the money. Using some creativity, elbow grease, re-purposing objects we already owned and accepting hand-me-downs & gifts enabled us to create this beautiful room. Now the only thing missing is our beautiful baby girl!

XOXO,

Next stop? Cirque du Soleil!

Apparently I've reached the point in pregnancy where people just stop and stare at me like I'm a circus act. I'll admit, my pregnancy weight has for the most part remained right in my belly, so I'm rockin' a sweet Tweedle Dee/Tweedle Dum look right now. That said, it's a little weird to have people stare at your stomach while they talk to you. They could at least do me a solid and stare at my boobs once in a while.

XOXO,

Remember when I said I wouldn't turn into an annoying pregnant blogger?

Yeah well, I lied. In the words of the immortal Bobby Brown, "It's my prerogative. I can do what I wanna do."

Just wanted to tease that I'll be putting up some nursery pics soon! As of now, it's still a little sparse in there, but we have painted & put the crib in so babyVal won't have to sleep in a dresser drawer. (Which I maintain is charmingly "retro hobo")

My ridiculously sweet in-laws snuck in while we were away and put the glider in with the newly upholstered cushions and let me just say, I have excellent taste in fabric. It looks so beautiful and now all I can think of is getting my hands on the rest of the custom linens so we can bang this nursery out!

XOXO,

To bend or not to bend. That is the question.

When I used to think of having a baby, I'd always leap to the actual birthing process and shudder. I used to think that I'd never have the cajones to push a human being through my loins. That all started to change around the time that I couldn't see my toes anymore. Here is a list of things that I can no longer do without assistance:

-Put lotion on my legs below the knee
-Put on underwear (caveat: I actually can put on underwear, it's just not guaranteed to be on the right way unless Mr. Val helps. Just last week I realized about 3/4 through the day on Thursday that I'd been wearing my underpants inside out all day.)
-Buckle/Tie shoes
-Paint my toenails

I also am finding shaving incredibly difficult but my foolish pride is standing in the way of asking for assistance. I'd like for there to be SOME mystery left between my husband and I, even if it has led to some patchy shave jobs as of late.

The other big issue at this stage is bending over, which for a klutz like me, has led to a few existential crises as of late. Case in point:

The Vending Machine Incident:

One of the more recent food items I've gotten addicted to is Raisinets. I've always liked them, but I stone cold LOVE them now. It's great because the raisins counteract the chocolate and the vending machine at work stocks them and lets face it, Raisinets are like the last thing to sell out of a vending machine. I'm the only one who buys them willingly, the only other time they get picked is when the machine is all out of other candy.

But I digress.

Anyway, today I was waddling down the hall to get my Raisinet fix when the unthinkable happened. I dropped my damn quarter and it rolled partially under a cabinet. I stood in the hall for a minute weighing my options. I could:

a.)Bend down and get it and pray to the baby Jesus that I don't fall over/split my pants/pass out from sheer exhaustion
b.)Waddle back down to my desk and get the dollar that is hanging out in my purse for emergencies such as this
c.)Forget about it completely, you don't need Raisinets anyway
d.)Stand there until someone passes, at which point rub my belly and look sad and hope they offer to pick up my quarter

I actually thought long and hard about option d., but I'm not the world's most patient person. I was about to go for b., when the voices in my head started trying to convince me that bending over isn't really that bad and I should just get my lazy pregnant ass down there and pick up my quarter. So, I went with a., which involved me bending at the knees as low as possible and running my fingers under the cabinet until I felt the sweet, chocolate producing metal rim of my quarter. Right as I was about to grab it, the worst possible thing that could have happened, did.

A throng of co-workers round the corner just in time to see me writing around on the floor, my pregnant ass huffing and puffing for a stupid quarter. This being a particularly chivalrous group of young men, they approached and asked if they could help me up, did I fall, yada yada yada, to which I mumbled that I had just dropped my quarter and I was OK and thanks and have a nice day. It would be fine if this were the end of the story, but nooooooo. Apparently my karmic balance sucks b/c as I head to the vending machine I realize that they are headed that way too.

Did I mention it's 10:00 AM in the morning?

The first guy gets trail mix, quite possibly the only thing in the vending machine less popular that Raisinets. The second guy gets pop tarts, classic morning choice, and the third guy gets some cookies. I'm feeling better because lets be honest, Raisinets are way better than Pop Tarts or Cookies, so I put in my money and make my selection, arriving at that blissful moment when you get exactly what you want out of life. I started to waddle back to my desk when I hear, "Rasinets huh? My mom loves Raisinets."

Sigh.

There are only so many indignities a gal can take, before she is capable of things never before possible. Which is why I am no longer terrified of childbirth. The prospect of a life without seeing my toes or shaving my entire calf without incident is much more terrifying than labor.

Until then I'll keep weighing my options when I drop stuff...anything over $5 I will probably huff and puff my way down to the floor for, under that all bets are off.

Those were some damn good Raisinets though.

XOXO,

Are you there followers? It's me, Valentine.

I'm just going to skip the apologies for being a crappy blogger. We all know it, so let's just move on.

Mr. Val and I are finally settled into our new place, so now we can at long last put together the nursery for our sweet baby girl! I'm not a super traditional girl, so a pink nursery was never going to happen. Instead I'm going with a palette of aquas/reds/whites for a pretty vintage look without anything overtly girly. Below are the fabrics & paint that we are using:



The color in the middle is the paint that will be up on the walls. The other two squares are the fabrics we are using. Since I couldn't find any baby linens that appealed to me, I'm having them custom made with these. The aqua scroll will be used on the crib skirt and glider while the red stripe will be used on the crib bumper and accent piping. I'll likely round out the bedding with some solid white-ish sheets and a baby blanket knitted by my Grandma.

As usual, our amazing families have really come through for us and provided the following:

-Glider (is from my mother in law): it's a lovely white glider that just needed a new cushion and some paint touch ups. It will be a perfect place to rock my daughter to sleep.

-Crib & Mattress: my father & step-mother bought our crib & mattress. We decided to go with the Lauren Graco in white. Since there are going to be so many fabrics in this room, I really liked the clean lines of the Lauren. I actually looked at more expensive cribs from PBK & Land of Nod but always came back to this one.



We decided that we didn't want a changing table, since it's a temporary piece of furniture. We'll be doing a long dresser with a changing top instead. I really like this better because long after we are done changing diapers, we will still have use for the dresser. I'm very excited about the dresser actually. We found a beautiful 6-drawer dresser on Craigslist for a steal. Trouble is, it's yellow. It's actually no problem, as I've been wanting to try my hand at a furniture project for a while. Mr. Val and I are going to strip and sand it and paint it white. I'll do some mild distressing to vintage it up a bit and change out the hardware with some glass knobs I've been eyeing at Anthropologie. I'm pretty excited to do this and will definitely post pics & the outcome!

I'm left now with little details to figure out, curtains, rugs, etc. I have some ideas but will leave those a surprise for the big reveal! I will reveal one last detail, the baby blocks that were made for me by the AMAZING jCam. They tie in all the colors/themes I wanted in the room and they reveal our babies name, so without further ado:



So now you know. BabyValentine has a name, Sadie Joan and will henceforth be referred to as such. Well, that and Sadiebug. And Sadie Bear. And Evander Holyfield since she's doing her best impersonation of him in my womb at the moment.

Tell me your thoughts Internet friends, you like?

A Moveable Feast

I'm in cardboard box hell.

No, we're not homeless, but we are moving which at times seems like it might suck more than actually being a hobo.

At this point I'm an excellent mover, since I've been moving almost every year since I left home for college. I'm not really sure why...I just never found a place I wanted to spend more than 12-24 months and figured I didn't have that much stuff so why not? Up until this point we've lived in Chicago or just north of the city in the Northwestern University town of Evanston, enjoying our urban existence as childless newlyweds, fully capable of seeing the "charm" in the local crackhead or prostitute. However, once Mr. Val knocked me up we grudgingly decided it was time to plunge into suburbia (cue funeral dirge) so that we don't have to jump our sweet baby girl into one of our friendly neighborhood gangs.

Since we first started living in sin almost six years ago, Mr. Val and I have moved FOUR times. This move will be our fifth and FINAL time as we both agree that unless this particular rental burns to the ground or is picked up in a tornado and spirited away to the wonderful land of Oz, we are staying put until the Mister graduates from his Masters program and we finally buy a house. Since this is (knock on wood) the last lease we will ever sign, I'd like to take a moment to look back on some of the humble abodes we have called home:

1. The Studio - Mr. Val and I truly believe that we are capable of surviving anything and everything only because we lived together in a studio apartment for a year. At the time, Mr. Val was finishing his Bachelors degree and waiting tables and I was a bartender at 2 local bars. We were on a SUPREMELY tight budget which blinded us to the fact that we were living in a Frank McCourt novel. I mean this place was bad. Tiny, poorly laid out, old, you name it, it sucked. The only bright spot was that it was located on an awesome little street with cafes & coffee shops, which was good since we wanted to spend as little time as possible in the actual apartment. It was the kind of place where you met the slumlord landlord the day you signed your lease and then never again. If there wasn't a body stinking up the joint there was no point in calling because they simply didn't care. Knowing this, we decided to violate the pet policy and buy a puppy named Beans who lived/loved/peed there quite happily for 3 months. At the end of our lease we moved up and out to the...

2. One bedroom - at the time the one bedroom seemed downright luxurious. Walls separating my bed from my kitchen? I felt like Imelda Marcos. If I went back now I'd laugh...the "kitchen" was a stove & fridge apparently made by and for the wee people of Munchkinland, there was roughly 9 inches of total counter space and the elevator walls were covered in pink shag carpet. But it had nice windows and was in a killer neighborhood and we could walk to the train/bars/restaurants which made it perfect. It also allowed dogs so we didn't have to sneak Beans under cover of darkness to go to the bathroom. I have incredibly fond memories of this place, as it was the site of the following triumphs:

• Boyfriend Valentine became Fiance Valentine
  
• Mr. Val graduate college
  
• Mr. Val and I both finally got jobs that didn't involve the phrase, "Would you like to try some boneless Buffalo Wings?"
  
• I finally got couches that hadn't been handed down through four generations of frat houses
  

We were doing well, in fact we were SO super cool and bad ass that we decided we needed to move into what will always be known as...

3. Our Super Sweet City Loft - the super sweet city loft was just that: a killer loft in an old industrial building that had been converted into condos. We were lured there by the Craigslist add that billed it as the "West Loop". Technically, it wasn't a lie as I think we made the West Loop cut by a few centimeters. Realistically, it was also a few centimeters shy of Malcolm X College, blue light Cameras and a Salvation Army Rehab Center. At this point though, we understood the bargain of city living which is, to put it simply, nicer place in a sketchy hood vs. rat infested tenement in the nice part of town. We opted for the former, since we had garage parking, a scary doorman and at this point a second dog (Jake) that Mr. Val thought we should get for "protection".

A side note about Jake. We rescued Jake from the same shelter as Beans, who to this point had literally been the perfect dog, save for her penchant for licking the walls. We still aren't completely sure what Jake is, but from what we can tell he is part Rottweiler/Pit Bull/Shar Pei/Wildebeest. He actually does serve some protective purposes since he scares the shit out of most people with his little muscly legs and giant head, but in reality, his idea of protecting me is following me from room to room and sitting on my feet. Excellent.

We spent two awesome years here, living it up in the city, getting married and hanging out with our awesome neighbors on the balcony. Unfortunately, we quickly outgrew the place due to my overzealous use of the scanner thingy when registering for our wedding gifts so we moved to...

4. The Hood - no joke, we moved to the hood. Make no mistake, it's a nice place: 2 beds, 2 baths, newly remodeled, basement with laundry, the works. It seemed so lovely a place to put all my fabulous Pottery Barn dishes that I didn't even notice that the realtor would only show it to us in the middle of the day on a weekday or that he had the lease ready for us to sign in less time than it takes Usain Bolt to get to the mailbox. I still don't think the neighborhood is unsafe, it's just full of random happenings and people. Like the neighbor who I'm pretty sure is running a foster care scam out of her house. Or the old man who feeds the squirrels peanuts in his underwear. Or the guy who asked us one day if we had any interest in fighting Jake, you know, in a dogfight. Needless to say, it's probably not the best place to start a family, so this Saturday we move to...

5. The Burbs - It's finally happened. We sold out. We'll be moving to a 3 bedroom townhouse so that we can give our sweet baby a safe cozy place to call home for her first couple of years. It's totally boring, it's totally cookie cutter but it's totally the right choice. It may have some paint spots to clean up, and some ugly light fixtures to change, and one of those awful mailboxes that you have share with your neighbors, but it's the first place my baby girl will call home, which makes me love it already.

So I remain in carboard hell, packing up the last of our child free years and moving to Mom-land, which, to be perfectly honest, sounds a lot like heaven to me.

XOXO,

"A Child is a Curly, Dimpled Lunatic." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

As you know, last Friday Mr.Val and I had our big 20 week ultrasound with full anatomy scan. I was so excited to find out the sex that I didn't fully comprehend what a detailed appointment it was. Once I realized that they were checking on all aspects of the baby's development I honestly got a little anxious. No matter how many times I hear babyVal's heartbeat or feel the little flutters in my belly, my heart still leaps into my throat until I've gotten another confirmation that everything is on track. I'm sure it won't fully go away until I'm holding babyVal and have counted all those little fingers and toes!

Unfounded panic aside, everything with the baby looks great. They had me measuring a few days behind my original due date but nothing out of the ordinary. If babyVal wants to push the birthday into November that is fine with me!

At the end of the appointment 2 funny things happened, the first when they tried to determine the gender. All through the appointment babyVal had crossed legs. Already my child is running the show, of course. The ultrasound tech tried everything. Jostling my belly gently, rolling me over all to no avail. Finally she brought in another tech and they attempted a shot from "under the hood" if you catch my drift. They whispered to each other for a moment and said that they were 98% sure it was a girl.

It's at this point that I must point out that I seriously do not know how they determine this. They are trained and I trust them but when they were showing me babyVal's lady bits, I nodded like I understood but truthfully? I felt like Rachael on "Friends" when she can't see anything on the ultrasound. I've honestly felt from the get go that babyVal was a girl, but lets just say I'm prepping for the appearance of a surprise penis, LOL.

After that, they did a brief internal exam. Since I'd been with these ladies for the better part of an hour I just dropped my undies (was wearing a dress) and hopped up on the table. The tech kind of blushed and said, "We could have stepped out!" and I'm thinking lady, you've just spent the last hour manhandling my belly and rubbing me down with goo and you're about to put a camera IN MY UTERUS. Let's drop the pretense, ok? Plus, if I'm going to be shooting a person out of my loins in 4 and half months, perhaps its best I learn not to be quite so modest, no?

Me being me, I demanded Mr.Val take me shopping immediately after the appointment so I could begin buying the love of my unborn daughter. He obliged, as he always does my whims, and through a dreamy eyed state we started spending obscene amounts of money on our little baby girl. Here are some of the outfits we just HAD to have:

Sweet little onesies:


You know, because every baby needs a giraffe print caftan to cover up at the pool:


And yes, I have already bought my baby girl a Laker shirt. Because you are never to young to root for the BEST TEAM EVER!


XOXO,

Half Baked.

And no I'm not talking about pot you druggies.

I'm talking about babyVal, who is officially halfway baked this week. To my knowledge this means he/she looks less fishy, although I won't have confirmation on that until Friday, which is our big ultrasound where we find out the sex! It's funny, because I always thought I wanted a little boy first but once I became pregnant I started secretly dreaming of a little girl in dresses and hair bows and ruffle butt bikinis. Don't judge - I'll be thrilled either way, but anyone who says they haven't thought of one gender of the other is full of it. Just like I know my husband is dreaming of t-ball games and teaching a little black-haired boy to play football, but would equally adore being wrapped around the little finger of a curly headed baby girl.

That said, we have taken numerous bets on the gender with a slight edge going to the girl camp. It's about a 55/45 split on guesses girl/boy. I love the logic of guessing to, it's normally something as conclusive as "Your skin looks bad. Girl." or "You don't look any different from the back. Boy." or "I've been dreaming of a mongoose eating a snake, which in Pagan folklore means boy." Obviously, Mr. Val and I couldn't care less, one healthy, happy giggling baby is all we need.

That said, here is the 20 week round of pregnancy stats. Feel free to interpret them as you will and lay a wager down on the state of babyVal's reproductive organs. There isn't any money in it for you, just the personal pride that comes from successfully guessing the genitalia of an Internet stranger's fetus.

Weight Gain/Loss: I said I'd never tell, but I'm up about 10 lbs. I wish this didn't freak me out so much but it does. I do adore the baby bump though...it makes me smile every time I catch my reflection.
Maternity clothes: I'm rocking half maternity clothes and half normal. I've pretty much only gained weight in the belly, so I'm getting away with regular tops that are either a size up or empire waisted. I do have some maternity tanks & shirts though that are heavenly. I'm still able to wear most of my normal pants with a belly band although I have a few pairs of maternity pants I'm about to bust into. Oh yeah...elasticized waistbands here I come!
Stretch Marks: Nope. Keep knocking on wood...I'm using the Medela stretch mark cream, so I'm pretty pleased with that for now.
Sleep: I am sleeping fine, exclusively on my side though which is an adjustment for a stomach sleeper like me.
Movement: It started a week ago with this weird little popping sensation, unlike anything I've ever felt. Now I feel baby all the time, and I'd describe it as a gentle rolling feeling. It's strong enough that Mr. Val can feel it too!
Food cravings/aversions: no more aversions. The last specific craving I had was for coffee ice cream. I've been eating it like crazy.
Gender: I am still leaning towards girl, but to be honest I have no idea.
What I miss: margaritas
Best moment this week: seeing Mr. Val's face light up when he felt the baby move.

So that's it! I should be a more regular blogger again now that I'm settled into my new job (more on that later). I've got to go...Top Gun is on which is clearly the Citizen Kane of the 80's, so I'm going to watch it with a giant bowl of ice cream on my lap.

XOXO,

"Holy shit there's a baby in there?"

When you are pregnant, people tell you that you'll wake up one day and have a belly. Um, yeah...I think I've got it. I was walking around, feeling awesome b/c I'd only gained 3 lbs since the "Day of the Pink Pee Stick" even though my workout routine has gone the way of the dinosaurs. Twas to be a short lived phenomenon as I literally woke up yesterday with this: {Click to enlarge}



A few disclaimers about this photo:

1. Don't judge my hair. When you have 13 lbs. of Italian hair, everyday that you don't look like Carrot top is a tiny victory.
2. Pardon the ugly bathroom...whomever designed this building had a torrid love affair with the color beige.
3.Don't judge the gorpy smile on my face. Taking a picture of your fetus in a mirror with an iPhone is hard.
4. Check out my rack. Those would be Mr. Val's new BFF's, I like to call them "36" and "D". The mister thinks they are awesome, while I remain terrified of them.

So here's the latest round of pregnancy specs, babyVal is officially 16weeks baked, which in culinary terms means he/she is about 3 minutes away from being a ruined souffle.

Weight Gain/Loss: Interestingly, my actual weight has barely changed, it's just all being carried in my boobs and uterus.

Maternity clothes: I've worn a couple maternity tank tops and let me tell you, they are heaven. I fear my regular clothes are not long for this world.

Stretch Marks: Nope. I got swindled into some $50 cream that supposedly alters the molecular structure of stretch marks in the space time continuum or some bullshit. Whatever. I'll try anything.

Sleep: is my very best friend.

Movement: no, but I hope it starts soon!

Food cravings/aversions: aversions have pretty much stopped. As for cravings, I pretty much just want to eat everything in sight all the time. And tomatoes. I can't get enough tomatoes...I'm such a Dego.

Gender: I'm sticking with girl.

What I miss: I'm not gonna lie. I miss booze something fierce.

Best moment this week: everytime Mr. Val kisses my belly.

Oh and one more thing, I bought a little onesie that says "G is for Guacamole" with a little picture of a smiling avocado dressed as an Aztec. It. Is. Awesome.

And now I want Guacamole. Shit.

XOXO,

P.S. Lauren - I promise I will post some recipes including the Fluff Dip soon. It's a sorority girl staple and, incidentally, non-toxic to dogs.

The unbearable weirdness of being knocked up.

Here is the honest to god truth about being pregnant for the first time:

It's super weird.

It's weird that all the sudden I want pineapple, like, NONSTOP. It's weird that one day I look skinnier than before I peed on that fateful stick and that the next day I wake up with Lou Piniella's body. It's weird that I vacillate between sex sounding AWESOME and threatening to punch my husband should he so much as LOOK at me lasciviously in the SAME DAMN DAY. Basically, in the words of the immortal Dwight Schrute: "A three-ounce fetus is calling the shots. It's so bad ass."

And here's the other honest to god truth about being pregnant for the first time:

It's really scary.

All of the sudden I'm tasked with a waterfall of major decisions. Do I keep working or stay home? If I stay home do I REALLY want to eat top ramen and use single ply toilet paper until my husband is done with grad school? Do I cloth diaper or not? If I let my baby cry will he/she turn into a serial killer? If I don't let my baby cry will he/she turn into a serial killer?

There is no reason for me to be so panicked. Mr. Valentine and I are ready for this baby. We have good jobs, good educations, a stable loving marriage and a supportive family. But even when you find yourself in the incredibly blessed position that we Valentines are, it's hard to not be flummoxed by the sheer magnitude of what you are about to do. Truthfully, 15 short weeks ago Mr. Valentine and I had a trough of Margaritas and decided to throw caution to the wind and now it's (holy shit) baby time. You can see how I am a little suspicious of our judgment.

But then I see the little terry cloth robe I bought babyVal. It's the only thing I've bought so far, but I couldn't resist. I run my hands over it and imagine the little miracle whose arms will soon fill out those sleeves, whose tiny feet will poke out the bottom and whose bright little face, no doubt topped with curly dark hair will stare at this brave new world and all its wonders. And I know that without question I can do this and how much I want to. And I know that all the decisions will get made, in due time, hopefully more right than wrong. And every time my husband kisses my stomach and whispers goodnight to this baby, I am reminded that I've already made the most important choice of all, which was choosing him. The rest of the pieces will fall as they may, but the only thing we really need is each other.

Well, that and the occasional Margarita ;)

XOXO,

Up the Duff....

...is a delightfully tacky British turn of phrase for pregnant.

Which I am.

This is another mea culpa for my erratic blogging as of late, but it's hard to come up with pithy comments about cheese when all I can think about is the tiny succubus that's currently residing in my womb.

I have no intentions of turning this into a pregnancy blog as I think most of them are boring and I'm certainly going to stay my cheese eating, wine swilling self...just in mom form. And no, I'm not drinking wine while pregnant. My desire for a baby without gills trumps my lust for the Jesus juice.

That said, it's a pretty major life change so I'll obviously give you the highlights here, but none of the gross stuff, b/c some stuff should just be locked away and suppressed, never to be exposed save for the safe haven of a psychotherapist's office.

There is the standard list of knocked up questions with my not so standard responses:

Weight Gain/Loss: I'll never tell, but I can tell you it's not that bad. Despite the fact that I ate grilled cheese sandwiches exclusively for a week.
Maternity clothes: not yet, though I am scouring websites to find cute ones that don't cost a fortune.
Stretch Marks: no and I plan to do anything, including drink the blood of virgins to avoid them. I am hoping my mom's kick ass genetics come into play here.
Sleep: is the new sex.
Movement: at my last u/s babyVal was moving around like a maniac, which I clearly can't feel at this point. This worries me as it indicates a crazy baby is on the way. Karma really kicks you in the ass,no?
Food cravings/aversions: cravings have been all over the place. Some days fruit, some days cheeseburgers. The most obvious symptom is that I am utterly susceptible to suggestion. If I see someone eating a turkey sandwich, I want a turkey sandwich. The other day a colleague of mine was eating sushi, which I can no longer can eat. I almost cried. Bitch.
Gender: I suspect girl. Mr. Valentine suspects boy, though I assume this isn't so much a suspicion as a desire to reenact the "Wanna have a catch?" scene from Field of Dreams.
What I miss: staying up past 9:30.
Best moment this week: seeing babyVal moving around at the doctor.

So that's it for now. I promise to never veer into STFU Parents territory and to always maintain my rapier wit. You just have to promise to love me when I cry and give in when I demand pickles.

XOXO,