To those of you who are getting a little bit tired of my sunshine-y, “pregnancy is great and easy!” attitude, I have good news: Things are starting to get a little uncomfortable around here.
I have to admit, I still don’t really feel like I should complain all that much. All in all, I really have enjoyed being pregnant. So far, I would not be scared to do this again.
But, it has to be said, people aren’t kidding when they say the end of pregnancy isn’t all rainbows and puppies.
After months of wishing and hoping for my belly to actually resemble that of a pregnant woman, I’m getting my wish — and then some. So far, I’ve got a perfectly manageable soccer ball-sized bump. But I’ve also got two and a half more months to go. And if her activity level is any indication, the little miss doesn’t show any signs of slowing down on development.
Adios, seeing my toes. I barely knew ye.
Speaking of that activity level. Joey and I apparently knew what we were doing when we settled on the name Vivian (which means “vivacious or full of life”). This girl boogies for hours at a time, and she pretty much stages her own Spring Spectacular every evening while I’m resting on the couch. (Complete with a lot of high-kicks and jazz hands, natch.)
Fortunately, while it’s sometimes a little surprising to get a jab in the gut from a pint-sized fist, I wouldn’t trade those pokes and prods for anything. I think the kicking will be what I miss most about pregnancy. (That and the fact that in vitro Vivi never talks back.)
Of course, talk to me again in another month and we’ll see if I’m still charmed.
Another pregnancy thing that isn’t just a bit in “Father of the Bride Part II”? Pregnant ladies are hot.
That’s with one T, as in temperature-wise. (Though I like to think my husband still thinks I’m pretty cute.)
Normally, I’m the girl who always has to bring a sweater and shivers through even the sunniest 60-degree day. Joey and I regularly debate about the definition of what is cold because anything about 70 makes him sweat.
Well, babe, I’m right there with you these days.
And, of course, I managed to get pregnant just in time for my third trimester to coincide with the hottest months of the year in New York. August is going to be brutal, folks.
So things are a little uncomfortable these days. And hot. And wiggly. But for now, I’m just trying to dress comfortably, drink loads of water, and enjoy it as much as I can.
Any tips and tricks from other mommas for surviving the summer whilst pregnant?
I’ve noticed a few bloggers making bucket lists for the seasons. You’ve probably seen them: In the summer, they want to go to the beach, try surfing, throw a BBQ. In the fall, they want to make s’mores, go camping, wear plaid, etc.
1. Go apple picking.
2. Make an apple crisp.
3. Go camping.
4. Hike a trail through fall leaves.
5. Drink apple cider.
You may notice a propensity for the outdoors and, well, eating. I am who I am.
And what a coincidence, I’ve already checked off three of those things. Last Friday, Joey, Boges, a few of our friends, and I went apple picking at an orchard upstate.
Bogey clearly loved it most of all, but Joey and I also had a great time picking our own apples and drinking cider. (Hello, Bucket List Items #1 and #5!)
Last night, I decided to check off item #2 by making apple crisp for the first time evah. Here’s the recipe I used, in case you have your own list to tackle this season. Bonus: It’s also gluten free as long as you use gluten-free oats.
Whiskey Pecan Apple Crisp
(gently modified from this recipe)
For the filling:
6-7 medium apples, peeled, cored, and diced
1 tablespoon cinnamon
3 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon lemon juice
For the topping:
1 cup hazelnut flour
1 cup gluten-free whole oats
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1/2 cup pecans, chopped
1/4 cup honey
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
For the garnish:
Cinnamon Whiskey (I used Fireball)
Cinnamon for sprinkling
Vanilla ice cream and/or whipped cream (optional…but recommended)
Step One: Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
Step Two: Combine the apples, 1 tablespoon cinnamon, 3 tablespoons honey, and lemon juice. Stir until apples are coated evenly.
Step Three: In a separate bowl, whisk the hazelnut flour, oats, salt, remaining cinnamon, and pecans.
Step Four: Use a fork or your fingers to mix in the remaining honey and butter until the topping has a crumbly consistency.
Step Five: Pour apples into two 9-inch pie dishes or baking dishes. Cover with the crumble topping.
Step Six: Bake for 35 to 40 minutes, or until the top is golden brown.
Step Seven: Spoon half a cup to one cup of crisp into a bowl while still warm. Drizzle with 1 oz of the cinnamon whiskey. Top with ice cream, whipped cream, and cinnamon as desired. Enjoy!
I love summer, but I don’t think it could ever be my favorite season. Mostly because, while it is packed with loads of fun things to do, it always comes with a certain amount of stress.
A side effect of being a planner is that, often times, I tend to overplan my life. Besides social engagements, I also plan my workouts, when I clean my apartment, when I run errands, and virtually all of my recreation. (Yes, I have actually set aside time in my calendar for “chilling out.” I have a problem, I know.)
Lately, I feel like my calendar is stuffed to the brim, and when a friend asks if I can hang, I’m wracked with guilt when I can’t find a time slot. This only ever seems to happen to me in the summer time.
Plus, everything feels more stressful when you’re sweating out an 85-degree day, amiright?
When I started writing this post, I had the idea that I was going to commit to more relaxation — less planning. But there’s a part of me that resists that reasoning. After all, I’m young and only have a few serious obligations in life (AKA, no children yet). Shouldn’t this be the time that I cram my schedule with the things I enjoy doing? Because I do enjoy all of my plans when they’re happening. And if everything is getting done, is there really any harm in feeling busy?
Maybe it’s the previously mentioned guilt that is throwing a wrench in the machinery. It’s probably not possible to do everything for everyone, no matter how much I wish I could.
So basically, this is a story of me being a good little Midwestern girl who wants to please everyone.
Sigh. I’m such a cliche.
I heard a quote on a show one time that was basically: “You need to change your dialogue. Instead of ‘I’m so overwhelmed,’ say, ‘My cup runneth over.'” So essentially, I need to think positively about the fact that I’m busy to make it easier to handle.
And wait patiently for fall.
Is there a season where you feel like you’re just barely keeping it together? Would you rather overfill your life with happy things or risk missing out but keep your sanity?
I need to let a few things out.
In the immortal words of white girls everywhere, I’m over it.
I’m over the cold. Do you know how cold this winter has been? No one in New York remembers a winter like this in the last ten years or more.
That’s how cold.
It just keeps snowing, and the temperature keeps not budging above thirty. It’s a sick joke.
Speaking of sick jokes, here’s another one: No matter how cold it gets, I still have to train for a marathon.
That means one to two runs a week in the biting cold, wondering just how many times I can lose feeling in the tip of my nose before it just falls off. It means that at least once a week, I spend hours in literally freezing temperatures wearing various layers of spandex and fleece and telling myself that it’s not that bad.
And let’s talk about those hours. I’m getting tired, y’all. The last month, I’ve been leaving my apartment about half an hour later than normal because, when my alarm goes off at the usual time, my brain just rejects that it is time to get up. My body refuses to swing my legs to the floor and vacate the bed because I’m so dang tired and did I mention it’s cold out there?
Because, oh, another thing: My apartment is freezing. The super keeps playing dumb like we’re imagining that our thermometer says it’s below sixty degrees. Like maybe we won’t notice. But I notice.
And then when we complain, the heaters magically turns on for a few hours. And then it shuts off and we start the song and dance again.
I am tired of this dance and I hate this song.
And you know what else? In an effort to avoid exposing my tired, cold skin to even more frigid air, I foolishly decided taking the bus eight blocks would be smarter than walking this morning after a 7-mile outdoor run. I then sat on said bus for an hour before finally giving up at ninth avenue, meaning I STILL ended up walking five blocks in the cold. I COULD MURDER SOMETHING RIGHT NOW.
My apologies for this spree of negativity. I promise to do better next time.
You guys. Winter has broken me.
And by that, I mean I finally bought a puffy coat. It looks like this:
So…yeah. It happened. Because while afternoons have been strangely balmy in NYC lately, mornings and evenings spent commuting to and from work have been rather uncomfortable.
Plus, on days like today when I feel like my body just might be trying to get sick, nothing feels enter than wrapping myself in a cocoon of synthetic down and a giant scarf and just pretending no one else is around.
Though, to be fair, I do the pretending part anytime I’m on the train.
Anyway. It’s big news in my world.
Speaking of actual news, the next month and a half has somehow gotten kind of busy. I have a lot of catch-up dates with friends, I’m going to Salt Lake City for Alt Summit in less than two weeks, then I’m off to Vegas for Super Bowl weekend. Then I basically have to start packing up my life because a move will be right around the corner. Wacky.
So what I’m saying is, if I am getting sick, lets get this thing over with, shallll we?
It is officially really, really cold out. Bitterly cold, you might say.
It’s around this time of year, when the morning train platform starts to feel like its own form of torture, that I usually find myself thinking about the same kinds of things:
Is it going to get colder? Am I going to start hating my commute again? Is this the year I finally crack and buy a puffy winter coat?
I’m dangerously close to conceding on the last one. Sure, I would prefer not to look like a marshmallow, but these freezing temperatures aren’t messing around.
From there, I start making a list of all the cold-weather items I should probably add to my list. And since it has been a while since I blogged, I’m sharing it with you. I’m also hoping to hear your recommendations if you’ve purchased one if these items (or something similar) with great success. Most of my readers are in the Midwest or on the East Coast, so I know y’all have some winter wardrobe advice.