Wednesday, May 16, 2018


Does being pregnant make you more clumsy? Or are you just more aware of your clumsiness? Because while it was easy to pick up a dropped hair elastic 9 months ago, it is now a feat of strength and acrobatics that leaves me out of breath and my heart racing. And it seems that gravity has increased its strength around me lately maybe it's matthew mcconaughey communicating to me from the future. I've dropped the clock, knives, adapter plugs, mascara, clothes, vitamins, vitamin bottles, vitamin bottle caps, keys, pens, pads, clippers and have missed the garbage can about 87% of the time I try to throw something in there. Each time the ground seems further and further away, and I have resolved to never take the ability to bend for granted again.

So for those of you who are not pregnant, go do some yoga just because you can.

I think the most enjoyable part of this stage is seeing how excited and prepped Harry is getting. I usually try to not be too cheesy when I can help it, but it's warmed my already very warm because i'm basically carrying a little space heater in my belly all the time soul to hear him plan out the most efficient way to the hospital for each time of day. I try to remind him that I will most likely be in labor for hours, if not days, and that we will have plenty of time to get there. He knows, however, that I will not be as calm and rational when it is actually happening. His preparations are extremely valid.

Meanwhile I fuss over whether a eucalyptus or lavender wreath would smell better and help rid our apartment of cardboard odors. It's just priorities really.

Also, does anyone want to teach me/learn how to make a wreath with me?

Harry learning the important lullabies. Strangely they are all by The National. The little guy is going to have good taste in music. 

peace and 13.1
he's officially signed up for a half! i'll be eating a donut at the finish line. 


Wednesday, May 9, 2018


This week I saw my belly button in my shadow, got heartburn from eating Sweet Heat Skittles, officially pulled all my sandals out of storage, and moved apartments. I probably read most definitely have lifted things I shouldn't pillows...because I can't lift my arms without my back seizing up.

This week we also woke up to birds chirping out our window, enjoyed a nice breeze winding it's way through our apartment, had a rooftop rendezvous with friends, ate homemade Cafe Rio courtesy of other friends, had our car insurance premium go down significantly by moving out of our sketchy neighborhood, and I discovered that one of my non-maternity dresses could still work with my maternity body. score. unless i unknowingly bought and wore a maternity dress all through college. which would really just be another score.

The second picture looks like I legitimately just have a basketball under my dress. Also thank you to our dear friend for taking the only pictures we have so far while being pregnant.

We've taken a few hits lately, and it's getting a little harder to hoist ourselves back up each time. Nevertheless, we persist and conquer, mostly thanks to good people in our lives. bless you bless you bless you all.

peace and suburb life

Monday, April 30, 2018


Over the weekend Harry and I drove about 40 minutes south of Minneapolis in order to visit the new- and only- Costa Vida in the state. I will never say that Costa Vida is as good as Cafe Rio, but it was still a taste of the west, and I greatly appreciated it.

After dining on sweet pork, I excused myself from the table with my currently most used phrase of life ..."I need to go to the bathroom." As I crossed the room, weaving in between the colorful tables and chairs, a younger guy saw me approaching. He proceeded to drag his chair as close as possible to his table, sucking in his stomach and holding his breath, to give me every possible inch of space to pass behind him. There had previously been about 3 feet of room for me to walk through, but I smiled and thanked him for his consideration, wondering if I actually looked like I was as wide as a refrigerator. Harry and I laughed for a good 5 minutes about the entire encounter.

So that's where I'm at. I have reached the point where people are so astounded by my size that I might as well be howling out "FEE FI FO FUM!" as I lumber around gorging myself on cheese smothered pork burritos. And I've still got a month and half left. partying partying.

Now let's take bets on whether our baby is bald like Harry was or a sassafras like me. I'm hoping for both. 

peace and braxton hicks
all day, every day. 
but not like scarily all day. just regularly occurring at normal and well spaced intervals all day.


Tuesday, April 17, 2018


It's been a doozy of a week. Minnesota was embraced in the warm arms of a 3 day blizzard. The day before the storm we entered Home Depot a store that i am more than reasonably excited to have a strong relationship with at some point in my life and came face to face with a giant sign that read "ARE YOU READY FOR THE BLIZZARD TORNADO?" 
First, what in the world is a blizzard tornado? Are they selling those at Dairy Queen now? 
Second, unless you are Dennis Quaid on his way to rescue Jake Gyllenhaal, when could you possibly look around yourself and say "if a tornado and a blizzard hit me directly at the exact same time and merged forces into a giant arctic storm, I would be totally ready,"? <---- is that punctuation even close to being right?

Home Depot was using the sign to sell snow blowers.

We do not own a snow blower, but we do have recently purchased boots thanks to the madness of Hunter at Target. So we took advantage of the cancelled church and strolled through the city to go print tax documents off at school. The strolling mainly consisted of me clinging to Harry while I slipped and slid everywhere, pointing out cars for Harry to help push out of snow banks. It's easy to offer help when you're 8 months pregnant and can't do any of the heavy lifting yourself. 

We ended the weekend at a doctors appointment, where I was strapped up to a stress test in order to make sure the little guy was doing alright. We had been hit pretty hard by an uninsured driver who lost control on the ice and smashed the entire drivers side of our poor little Mazda. We are bitter. But we are healthy. 

peace and police reports
harry the law student is exercising his newly obtained education rather well due to our mishap


Monday, April 9, 2018


Cons of pregnancy:
-feeling like a reenactment of the Karate Kid is happening inside me each night just as I am trying to go to bed, or at any given time of day really
-not being able to sleep on my back
-limited wardrobe options however, pants with elastic bands that go up to your chest are scarily comfortable. like, i might wear them even when i'm no longer pregnant

Pros of pregnancy:
-being able to ask Harry to get my water bottle for me from across the room and not being accused of extreme laziness
-little baby pants that a human will actually fit into
-discovering that I have a freckle in my belly button I never knew about
-being the best, most perfect mom in the world because I am literally giving him everything he needs 100% of the time which will never occur again in his life
-getting double takes at the gym like all the pretty girls in movies do

In other very important news I got a haircut last week and, what with my extreme emotional state, was despaired at it's results insert eye roll here. After two years of patiently waiting to get some length, what I thought was going to be a quick trim ended up being a 5 inch cut. Sure, you can say that it's just hair and it'll grow back, but keep in mind I am about 2 months away from postpartum hair loss. bring on the baldness

Fortunately, it's really not as bad as I keep imaging it to be. In fact, Harry didn't even notice a difference until I asked him about it two days later. i love it when we fit into stereotypes

peace and packing
we're moving! yayayaayayya


Tuesday, April 3, 2018

thoughts at....

I am 30 weeks pregnant and I still don't really understand why we measure pregnancies in weeks. Yeah yeah, weeks are more accurate than months because months don't always have the same number of days or full weeks in them. But when Jim at the office comes up to my desk and asks me how far along I am, and I respond with "29 weeks," I just get a blank smile while his mind tries to do the math. So then I have to try to do the math and end up convincing myself that I'm either having the baby next week, or will be pregnant until the end of the year. Wouldn't that be fun? 

And those are my thoughts at 30 weeks, aka 15 fortnights, aka 1,205 viewings of Lord of the Rings Return of the King. 


Harry and I get a little better at celebrating holidays and making a few traditions with each passing year. We could hardly remember our first Easter after we were married, and last year I quickly stuffed some popcorn behind his vinyls for him to hunt for. This year we went to Target because we like to support the local stores the day before Easter and split up to assemble each other's baskets. Our limit was $10 each. We both doubled that. budgeting win. 

Easter morning dawned bright and warm. I awoke to welcome the day and as I pirouetted towards the bedroom door, I beheld a trail of new ceramic measuring cups filled with Cadbury mini eggs leading me on an adventure. At the end of the trail was a basket with two cute new bowls that, in Harry's words, would be "perfect for yogurt."

***real story***
I woke up to the sound of paper and plastic grass rustling from the front room and looked out the window at the frozen land of the north. Groggily I started waddling into the front room. Harry quickly stopped me and demanded that I go into the bathroom and stay there. I sat on the toilet because where else are you going to sit in a bathroom?! for about 10 minutes, and only once I decided to make use of my time and shower did Harry release me from my prison. At that point I opened the bathroom door and beheld the trail of measuring cups and Cadbury eggs. The "perfect for yogurt" part of the story is true, and they are.

Harry is like the character Jack from "This Is Us" which if you are a participating member of society you have seen in that he always gifts better than I do. So while I will enjoy the memory of Easter morning each time I eat yogurt or berries from my new bowls or measure out a cup of milk for cookies, Harry can only enjoy his Easter basket for the amount of time it takes him to drink a bottle of chocolate milk. That time is currently set at about 27 seconds.

Now I'm off to do some snow angels.

peace and public libraries


Tuesday, December 12, 2017

to the graduates

Bear with me as I delve into symbolism here.

Marriage is like a big feast. A large, varied spread for just two people, who are tasked with the responsibility of eating all the food presented to them. The two are eager to begin, portioning out servings rather evenly, while adapting to the preferences of each. Your spouse doesn't like olives so you take the bowl. You don't prefer sesame seeds on your bun, so they take all the tops while you eat the bottoms. After giving and taking, you successfully divide up the food and eat it all.

Each day the meal is a little different. You and your spouse might take turns piling your plates a little higher to help the other out. But you both keep eating the entire meal, and you start to feel your stomach stretching a bit and being able to accommodate more, settling in to a rhythm that leaves you both reasonably full, but not stuffed.

Being married to a grad student is like having this same meal each day, with the same responsibility of polishing it off, but every day a giant pot of thick, creamy, heavy, buttery mashed potatoes is included in the meal. Dutifully, your spouse takes them all, slowly shoveling the starch into their mouth and swallowing every last bite. And you are so grateful that you do not have to stomach such an ordeal.

But you are left with the rest. The spread, that was previously split each day, is now your duty alone to finish. Occasionally the spouse might take on a piece of corn bread or a handful of salad, but most often they are in a coma from the amount of potatoes they have consumed. Everyone is so impressed with the accomplishment of your spouse, because it is a feat to eat so many potatoes. They ask after his or her ordeal, offering sympathy and encouragement as he or she continues to plod their way through. And they need it, because who ever heard of eating so many potatoes?

But what everyone including grad student might not recognize is the efforts being put in by the 2nd spouse to keep eating all the other food. There's not much glory in eating rolls and broccoli and chicken and pickles, but it's still an accomplishment to get it all down. And you don't have any other choice but to get. it. down.

I won't tell you not to go to grad school. We had an incredible amount of people, both close to us and basically unknown, who told us not to go...after we had already accepted. I think it's garbage to say something like that to people eager and excited to embark on an adventure. But I will say that you need to buy bigger plates. You have to figure out how to deal with more. How to cope with responsibility. Learn when to put more on your plate and when to give it to your spouse. It's tricky and I haven't figured it out myself, but I am sure that doing so will strengthen and refine your relationship. Because as hard a grad school is, I'm positive that it's just a crash course for the rest of our lives.