But! She did call! And now that our family knows I am so excited to tell you that This Little Baby #2 is a…

BOY!!!!!!!!!

I am over the moon. I thought there might be an initial hint of disappointment if it turned out to be another boy, but there is none. Not even a drop. I am psyched to be a boy-mom, to have to little truck-loving monkeys running around the house and filling it with love. Being a mom to Owen has been the best thing I could ever have hoped for, and to have another boy coming to join us just feels so very right.

We can’t wait to meet you, little boy. But oh, are we screwed on names. We have none! (Yet.)

When I think February, I think groundhog, leap years and love. And also…chocolate. With Valentine’s Day smack in the middle of the month, it’s a great excuse to indulge your chocolate craving all month long. You know I’m heading to the store later to pick up some marked down Valentine’s Day candy!

As promised, MOCAFE is marking down something new this month over on Amazon.com. And what better choice than chocolate?

Today through March 14th, head over here and save 15% off all MOCAFE Azteca D’oro 1519 Mexican Spiced Chocolate.

This is my kind of sale. (And if you forgot a little something for your significant other the other day, now’s a good time to make it up to them!)

A chai was a necessity later, I assure you.

- We bought new living room furniture and it’s being delivered today. They are light and beachy and I’m excited to design the room around the pieces. The purchase kind of pushed me into a style, which is good, because my ideas ranged from spectrum to spectrum and I really had no idea what I wanted to do in there. So, yay for forced decisions!

The delivery is scheduled for any time between 11:24 and 2:24. Yes, really, 24. Any of those times would be fantastic, except for 1:24-2:24, which is smack in the middle of nap time. So of course that’s when they will come.

- Tomorrow is THE ultrasound day. If baby cooperates, we will know by noon whether Owen is getting a brother or a sister. I am beyond excited to find out and still convinced it’s a boy. Check back tomorrow afternoon for an update!

- I have to go suck out some snot now. My life is glamorous.

End sap.

I had my monthly appointment today and the waiting room was super busy because they were working on a new system and were backlogged. This gave me the opportunity to do some people watching and it was GOOD today. There was a couple dressed entirely alike — I mean, head to toe — matching New Balance sneakers and all. There was the frighteningly young couple who looked nervous to be there and first-time parents with their itty-bitty newborn. (Baby toes! NOM, NOM, NOM.)

And then there was the woman wearing jean capris with Ugg boots.

Now, look. I don’t claim to be a fashionista in the slightest. I wear a variation of the same shirt, cardigan, jeans-ensemble pretty often. (See example below.) But this combination was so…off. There was something so glaringly wrong about it that I could not stop staring. It was like this:

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…only…not. Because she was wearing baggy jean capris and I don’t know. It was not good.

Again, I shouldn’t judge, because I’m wearing my basic uniform today and if you looked in my closet you’d find FAR too many striped shirts, so maybe I should take a lesson from that woman and change it up a bit, embrace my inner adventurer.

Almost 18 weeks

Maybe maternity jeans and a crop top? Thoughts?

This is not one of those posts.

If I were to define my job lately, it would go something like this:

Begin day early. Too early. Mentally prepare for 12-13 hour work day. Greet boss, who is ready with a list of demands already, starting with his breakfast, which I’m not attending to quickly enough. Fight with boss about wearing pants. Explain to boss that pants are a part of life and other people in the office (and outside the office as well) appreciate the use of pants. Especially when it’s 32 degrees outside.

Prepare breakfast for boss while he sits in his chair, high and mighty above this lowly servant. Offer him a beverage to tide him over while he waits. He concedes and for the moment, is quiet. Serve boss a bowl of oatmeal and blueberries. With a spoon, per request. He eats the blueberries first. Fifteen minutes later, he is finished and off to start his day. If I am lucky, he will be happy for a bit and allow me to get some other work done. You know, the work that keeps his life running smoothly, like cleaning the office, scheduling his meetings with acquaintances and preparing various food stuffs.

Oh wait, the boss is demanding another drink. Only I was busy with another task and wasn’t quite fast enough getting it to him and…OH MY GOD, THE WORLD IS ENDING!!!!!!

Walk away from the ranting and allow boss to vent his frustrations about my poor performance. When he has succeeded in telling me just how terrible I am, he decides the drink I offered him five minutes before will suffice and walks off with it.

Enjoy a few hours while boss is happy and pleasant. Share some jokes around the milk cooler and exchange some high fives. Laugh at his fart noises. Indulge in some office-place hugs and kisses. Promise him I won’t sue for harassment; I actually like them a lot, you know.

Sense a shift in the tides. Boss is hungry for lunch and my window is small. Hurry to create a meal suitable for a prince and serve him before his blood sugar drops. Am successful today, and avoid a speaking to. We chill some more. Begin to think that maybe today is the today boss will come out of this foul mood he’s been in for the past week. (Realize I am an idiot.)

He’s getting tired and is ready for a siesta. We’re one of those rare offices that encourages sleeping on the job, so I dim the lights, draw the shades and read him some books. He finally succumbs to sleep and for a blissful hour and a half, I slack off.

He awakes and is angry about it. I offer him a snack, but it’s only after I supply the exact combination of food and TV show (blueberries and cereal with milk in a cup, Curious George on PBS) that he stops shouting at me. We spend the next few hours alternating between having fun, and throwing ourselves on the floor for no reason and sobbing. (Him, not me. Although…I’m thisclose.)

Dada’s home! DADA’S HOOOOOOOOOMMMMMEEEE!!!!!! Joy and happiness and doves and rainbows and sunshine. I go to my office and use the bathroom with the door closed for the first time all day. Well, for a few minutes, anyway, until my boss opens the door on me.

*******

It’s been a week. The last couple molars coming in plus the arrival of the (early?) Terrible Twos tantrums has pretty much knocked me out cold. The early wakings — hours of the morning we haven’t seen in ages — paired with the insistence that he come into “Mama and Dada’s bed” rather than go back to sleep in his own, the yelling and hurling himself to the floor for seemingly NO REASON WHATSOEVER multiple times a day. It’s taken all my strength and patience not to hang him upside down by his ankles and shaking the stuffing out of him.

I love him. And I get it, I really do. His teeth hurt, he’s old enough to become frustrated and wants me to know about it, but despite being highly verbal (ew, that was such a braggy mom thing to say. But no, really. He has a LOT of words. I promise.), he’s not old enough to clearly express to me WHY he’s so frustrated. So, he yells. And cries. And throws himself on the floor. A LOT.

It’s times like these during my motherhood journey that I want to take my mom by the shoulders, look her in the eyes and tell her, OH MY GOD, I’M SO SORRY. Because I did the exact.same.thing. to her, I’m sure. And then I turned into a teenager, so yeah. Shout out to my mama.

This stage will pass, eventually. I hope. Or you know, get worse, right as the baby is born.

At least then I can drink wine again.

(Almost) 17 weeks

(I may be in my pajamas, but at least I cleaned the mirror this week.)

Somehow without me knowing it, we’ve almost reached the halfway point of this pregnancy. Which means this kid is coming in just five months. Last time around five months felt like an eternity. This time I know the end will be here before we know it, so I’m trying to bank as much mama and Owen time as I can. I know he won’t remember being an only child, but I will, and I want to just soak it in.

Next week is my monthly doctor appointment, and then we’ll set the date for the BIG ultrasound, most likely around Valentine’s Day. I’m super excited to find out if baby is a boy or a girl. I’m still mostly convinced we’re having another boy, — I mean, we’ve done boy. Clearly, we make boys — but I don’t have that set-in-stone feeling I had the first time. A girl would be wonderful. A boy would be too. Just give me a healthy kid (and hopefully one who sleeps a LITTLE BIT BETTER than Owen did. That’s not too much to ask, is it?).

The second trimester has been pretty nice, but I’ve had some ca-razy mood swings slash tear fests lately and all I can do when they’re over is apologize to Michael for marrying a psychotic person and go about my day. I think he finds me amusing. (Or, nuts. Maybe a little of both.) Baby is bopping around in there fairly frequently and while cravings has been basically non-existent this time around, I can’t push that nagging feeling of wanting a cold cut sandwich on delicious bread piled high with cheese and lettuce out of my mind. It’s the only avoid-food I’m pretty serious about during pregnancy, and while I know there are regular non-lunch meat options that to most would probably taste better, because I can’t have it, it’s all I want.

There is a deli about15 minutes away that Michael already agreed to go to for me after this baby is born. Like, that day. I CANNOT WAIT.

So, that thing about being a desperate houswife:

We live on a cul de sac and I’m at home. Which means I can see the comings and goings on the street all day long. Which means I have completely built up a story in my head that one neighbor is having an affair with a handy man while her husband is at work. Even if possibly I saw the two men both at the house this morning. Possibly. Which means there is probably no affair and just some house work going on, but whatever. In my head this is much juicier.

I also saw another neighbor’s teenage daughter come home during the middle of the day. Holding hands with a boy. And they went in the house. Where no one was home.

BUSTED.

Before you tell me I have to get out more, let me assure you this activity is not all-consuming. At least not yet. It’s probably a good thing I’m going to have my hands full soon, I mean, REALLY.

Sometimes I think I birthed Bart Simpson, and he’s only 18 months old. I can’t imagine the boogers, toilet humor and general boy-ickiness in our future.

~

He shrieks with joy when he hears my footsteps coming up the stairs when I’ve been out. “MAMA!!!!”, I hear before even getting inside from the garage. And there he waits at the top of the stairs, a giant smile threatening to burst off his chubby cheeks.

He gives so many hugs and so many kisses. He climbs into my lap for an impromptu snuggle before another game of trucks or blocks. When he gets tired he tells me, “Night, night, Mama”, and curls up on the couch with me before bed.

Sometimes I think I birthed a perfect little angel baby, and he’s only 18 months old. I can’t imagine all the love, joy and fun times we have in our future.

I adore Pinterest. (Find me here.) If asked to pick a favorite feature one might think it would be hard, but for me, it’s not. I love the recipes the most. I really like to cook and I love find variations on old favorites, brand new ideas and decadent looking desserts. Since I challenged myself to actually do some of the things I pinned, recipes have been the most frequent. Each time I sit down to write my grocery list/meal plan, I also open my Pinterest and try to use one new recipe each time. Some have been busts, but I’ve found some really great ones recently that are going into the arsenal. I especially like this since I find I tend to get into food ruts and make the same thing over and over.

Below are three of my more recent favorites. All photos are credit of the original poster. I’d love to be one of those bloggers who take pretty photos of their food, but I never remember to take them until I’m about halfway through and by then…meh. I just want to eat.

Spicy Honey-Brushed Chicken Thighs by Handle the Heat

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This simple meal was quick, easy, and the perfect balance of spicy and sweet. My only recommendations would be to double the spice mix if you’re making a large amount of chicken. I made five thighs and just barely had enough spice to cover the last one. I also suggest using the cooking time as just a loose guide, and use your eyes and nose as the real timer. The original recipes calls for a seven-minute cook time, but mine took more like 15. Once you’ve unsuspectingly taken a bite of raw chicken, you try not to do it again. On top of being good, this was a really affordable meal. I bought seven thighs on sale for under $4. Yum!

Corn Cakes with Tomato Avocado Relish by Annie’s Eats

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I made these as a side to go with the spicy honey-brushed chicken, and I’m so glad I did. They are delicious! I used 2.5 cups frozen corn (thawed) instead of off the ear and regular milk instead of buttermilk because that’s what I had on hand. The result was a perfectly portioned cake of yum that paired really well with the relish. A relish that is so tasty, you could eat it straight out the bowl with a spoon…which I did! The cakes are a bit dense, so they are super filling and would work equally well as a side or a light lunch/dinner. I yielded about 11 cakes, so Owen and I finished the rest of lunch the next day. He liked it all, too! (Toddler approved!) I didn’t put any ranch dressing on top, as I don’t think it needs it.

Crock Pot Teriyaki Chicken by Lake Lure Cottage Kitchen

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I’m a big fan of slow cooker meals in the winter. With minimal work, you have a healthy meal that makes the house smell good all day. This one is no exception. The recipe calls for chicken thighs, but I had 1.5 pounds of chicken breasts in the freezer so I used those instead and halved the sauce recipe. Since breasts have less fat than other cuts of meat, I also cooked them closer to seven hours in the hopes that they would be come super tender. While they still turned out really yummy, they never reached that pull-apart goodness I hoped they would. If that matters to you, I would follow the recipe exactly and use the thighs. I served this along side couscous and broccoli and Michael mmm’d his way through it, requesting I make it again in the future.

So there you have it, some of my recent favorite food pins. I’ll do another round up in a few weeks because I truly believe good food is to be shared. Happy eating…and pinning! (PS – if you’re on Pinterest and I don’t follow you, please leave your user name in the comments so I can. Especially if you have a food board!)

There was something lost in translation this time, though, because we didn’t quite understand that we had agreed to dog sit for a week and a half…until we were. So we are.

Lucy is a lab and just over a year or so old. I think. She was rescued from a “kill shelter” down south and brought up here. She is sweet, but also nuts and skittish and while I completely understand that given her unknown background, and the fact that she’s basically a puppy and not at all like the giant breed we’re used to…she’s driving me crazy.

She knows “sit”, but barely. Other than that, she responds to no other commands. Owen has started mimicking me and now runs around yelling, “DOWNNNN, U-CEE!”, which I must say a hundred times. She’s house-trained, but pees whenever Michael comes in the house.

Kodiak…well, he’s being a really good sport. But Lucy is like the little annoying sister he never had, and probably never wanted. She climbs all over him and trips him up, and while he basically sits there and takes it…

“W T EFFFFF is this crap?”

…he has certainly lost his patience a time or two and knocked her around a little.

Owen alternates between thinking U-Cee is hilarious, and outright yelling AHHHHH in her face when she comes near him. I guess he’s used to our big lump of Newfie and doesn’t know what to make of the crazy either.

We’re got six days left with Lucy. It’s really too bad I can’t open a bottle of wine right now.

14-week belly says get out of the way, dog! You’re blocking the mac and cheese. (I can blame her for the dirty mirror too, right?)