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We’ve met this weekend every year since college graduation. Four of us, every time. It’s the one time of year we all manage to be free at the same time no matter what. It’s the same formula each time: dinner, returning to our alma mater for a showing of the Vagina Monologues, and after-show drinks.

Over the years, we’ve used this weekend to celebrate milestones: engagements, weddings,  new jobs, master degrees, babies…even the acquisition of really fabulous boots. We fall easily into reunion hugs, excited chatter causing us to trip over each others’ words until we laugh and say, “you go. Tell me about it.”

We always take a group photo, but for some reason they tend to get lost. I’m sure a look back over the years would on the surface, show an interesting progression of clothing and hair color, and beneath that, lives that continue to change. From students, to adult women — wives, professionals, mothers.

We are sisters by sorority initiation, but friends by choice — because we just couldn’t not be. Together we are a diverse mix of talents, passions, life paths. But together — together we are one. A really fabulous group of women who for one night, put the rest of life aside.

Tomorrow we’ll add yet another chapter to our story and I really can’t wait.

I just went back and read this post after I finished writing it and guys, it is ALL OVER THE PLACE. My brain! It is sleepy. I’m sorry in advance.

It’s been an AFTERNOON. I sat down to write a totally different post, but I’m just too tired.

I’ve discovered my mood since Owen was born is directly related to how well he naps. I bet you can guess how well he napped today.

I gave up on the whole “nap training” thing a few weeks ago, when trying to get him to sleep — anywhere — without me during the day resulted in nothing more than horrible, gut-wrenching screaming. His, not mine, although I cried a lot too. Don’t get me wrong, I love lying down with him and nursing him to sleep. But once I do, I’m stuck. Totally. From one to two hours at least and as much as I love him, I really need an hour to myself. Even if it’s just to do the dishes, take a shower…or sit on the couch.

Sometimes on a good day, he’ll unlatch from my breast and I can sneak away. Usually for no more than 15 minutes before he wakes knowing I’m gone. Or other times he’ll unlatch and the moment I try to ease out of the bed, he wakes and starts searching for me with his little open bird mouth; a heat-seeking missile, target: my boob. If I don’t give it to him, he fully wakes up and cries.


I don’t know if it’s something he will grow out of, or if instead, I’m creating an unbreakable nap time habit. Either way, I decided to try again today to get him to nap in the crib.


Tell me this is a phase. Please? Pretty please? Like, one day he’s just going to roll over and nap all by himself. Right? RIIIIIGHT? (Meh.)

Anyway. This post has no real direction and the screen is kind of swimming as my eyes cross from tiredness. And it’s only 6:30. And I should probably make something for dinner.

Thank god he sleeps well at night. Well, he did. Now that he’s approaching 8-months he has decided to be right on target for that pesky sleep regression that many kids go through at this age. Teething, growing and what not. He’s definitely started hurling himself all over the place, so I’m pretty sure the beginnings of crawling are in our near-ish future, keeping his brain going a mile a minute, even when he’s trying to sleep.

At least he’s cute. I mean, really cute. And happy. My little rubber ducky.

Do ducks nap? It would be great if ducks napped…

(omigod what am I talking about?)

So guess what? The quiche was a hit! Not only did Michael embrace the idea of eating it for dinner (he caught me off guard right after I wrote the post by asking what was for dinner. “Ummm…quiche?” I answered. He was surprised, but didn’t complain.), but we both really enjoyed how delicious it was. I made it with a side salad and felt full, but not heavy afterwards. And it was even better the next day!

Below is the recipe and photos. I highly suggest making it, and what’s more, it’s so versatile that you can really customize it to your tastes. Although, this version is super delicious, if I do say so myself. Also, I’ve been looking to add some cooking-related feature to the blog semi-regularly, and I think I’ve come up with it. I’m kind of excited in a dorky way about it. Stay tuned for more info starting in March!

Spinach Bacon Quiche
Adapted from this recipe on (are you familiar with this site? I love it and think the comment section on each recipe is SO  helpful. They are what inspired me to change things up for the original.)


– 5 eggs
– 1 cup milk
– 1 1/2 – 2 cups shredded cheese (I used sharp cheddar and mozzarella because that’s what I had on hand)
– half one large yellow onion, chopped
– 2 cloves garlic, diced
– 4-6 bacon strips, cooked
– 1/2 teaspoon salt
– heaping 1/2 teaspoon dry mustard
– heaping 1/2 teaspoon paprika
– 1 package frozen chopped spinach, defrosted (7 mins in the microwave works great) and squeezed dry (use a kitchen towel) to remove excess liquid
– one frozen deep dish 9-inch pie crust (make sure you get the deep dish, as mine filled right to the top)


– Preheat oven to 400 degrees

– In a large saute pan, cook bacon until crispy. Remove from pan and place on paper towels to drain.

– In the same pan, cook onions in the bacon grease (YES) until translucent, about 5-8 minutes. Add spinach and garlic and cook for another 5 minutes or so. Break bacon into small pieces and stir into spinach mixture.

– In large bowl, beat eggs. Whisk in milk, 1-1 1/2 cups cheese, salt, mustard and paprika. Add in spinach mixture and stir to combine.

– Pour into pie shell and cover with remaining cheese.

– Bake on foil-lined baking sheet for 40 minutes, or until a knife comes out clean from the center.

That’s it! So easy, so yummy. Here it is (phone picture because I couldn’t wait to eat) straight out of the oven:

And reheated the next day. YUM!!

You guys, I can’t even deal with how funny the comments on the last post were. I love that we are all cheesy pop fans at heart. And so many great new blogs for me to check out! Thanks for saying hi!

So, I decided not to do that Rachel Ray recipe thing, because as one person pointed out, once you’ve subscribed to her magazine for a year, it basically repeats itself and who needs 500 burger recipes? So I guess instead, on occasion, I’ll just post about a recipe I tried from wherever. Lately I’ve been trying really hard to cook using only what I have on hand (a.k.a. cleaning out the freezer), and I think I’ve come up with a couple good meals lately. It’s so satisfying when that happens!

Tonight, I’m making a quiche. Only I’m calling it “spinach pie” in attempt to redirect Michael’s attention so he doesn’t notice that it is, in fact, a quiche. Michael doesn’t like quiche. He does like spinach pie, however, so I’m hoping maybe he’ll gloss right over the fact that there is — you know — eggs in it, and focus on the spinach. Although, maybe there are eggs in spinach pie? I actually have no idea because me? I don’t like spinach pie. Confused yet?

It’s just one of those things. You have something once — in this example quiche — and you don’t like it. So on that note, you don’t like any quiche ever, despite what’s in it or how it’s made. That’s where Michael is and up until recently, I was in that boat too. But on a visit to my mom’s house, she made a spinach quiche and I’ll be damned, it was delicious. And since I was looking to jazz up my dinner routine, I bought some frozen spinach and a pie crust…and forgot all about them.

Until this whole “use what you have on hand” thing became my mission, and I decided to make the damn quiche already. Some searching on my favorite recipe site came up with a yummy sounding one that has many things that make me mmmm (mainly, bacon. And cheese. Mmmmm.), and I figure with a side salad, Michael might just gloss over the fact that it is technically the Q-word and enjoy it. He’s also not really into breakfast for dinner (I know. I KNOW.), so we may have more than one hurdle to cross.

However, I’m the cook in this house, so what I say goes.

I’m also hoping that maybe he doesn’t check to see if I’ve posted until after dinner so I can be spared the inevitable “we’re having quiche???

Wish me luck.

Since the February blahs are in full swing, let’s have some fun and get to know each other better. An unofficial delurking day. Fun!

Last time I did one I was introduced to so many great new blogs that I still read so if you write, be sure to link back to yourself so I can check you out.

Leave a comment and answer this question: what’s your guilty pleasure song?

Come on, we all have one. Mine? Well there’s actually a bunch, but Usher’s You Make Me Wanna brings me right back to middle school and makes Michael look at me like a weirdo when I sing it…knowing all the words!

Your turn! Can’t wait to see!

Yesterday at the grocery store, a woman came up to Owen and touched his face. Just reached out and touched it. He was sitting in the shopping cart and I know those cheeks are just begging for a squeeze, but it weirded me out.

I posted on Facebook about it and people started commenting. Most felt the same way — that it’s just not cool to touch a stranger’s kid without asking. But when Jenna commented that she thought it was better that the woman touched his face, rather his hands which he would put in his mouth, it got me thinking.

My initial ickiness about it was germs. It’s winter, we were in the grocery store, this woman was a stranger and who knows where her hands have been or what she’s carrying on them. Sure, he’s just as likely to touch something on his own and get sick, but why add another element into the mix that can be avoided? But after Jenna’s comment I began to realize that what really bothered me about it was that it was invasive. Not really invasive for him (although, I guess you could argue that it is), but more invasive to me, the mother.

It goes along the same line as stranger reaching out to touch a pregnant belly. I never liked it when it happened to me, but I didn’t know how to handle it either. Smack their hand away? Ask them not to do it again? Ignore it? (I ended up always ignoring it, smiling and putting my hands over my stomach protectively hoping they wouldn’t do it again.)

I didn’t say anything to the woman, even though it bothered me. I’m not big on confrontation and I knew she wasn’t doing it out of malice, she just wanted to touch the cute baby. People like cute babies, I get it. But by not saying anything, am I making it ok?

Maybe it’s because I just don’t think to touch strangers’ kids. Or if I was going to, I would touch a less personal area…like shake their little foot or tickle their knee. The face? It’s just so…theirs.

So what do you think? Is it ok to touch someone’s baby without permission? Do you? Am I and the other moms who agreed with my Facebook post overreacting?

Well let’s see. ‘Round here we’ve covered poop. And boobs, right? So why not talk about periods too. Or rather, a lack of one.

I’ve yet to get my first postpartum period. There’s a likelihood that I won’t for a while and it’s not like I’m in any rush to get it. NOT having my period for almost 16 months was not bad at all. Nope, didn’t miss it. But for the past few weeks I’ve just felt…off. Moody, tired, emotional. Enough that Michael asked if I could possibly be pregnant. (I’m not.) Sure, there’s always that slight possibility that you can get pregnant before getting a period while breastfeeding (I mean, you would have to ovulate first), but it’s pretty rare.

I kind of just disregarded how I was feeling until the last three days when all of the sudden my stomach started doing this horrible clenching thing. It initially felt higher up, like in the belly, but has moved down my pelvis enough to make me try to think back all those years ago to periods before going on the pill.

I cannot for the life of me remember if I used to get cramps; if this is what it felt like, but if this is my body gearing up for that monthly loveliness, I say NO. Couldn’t we just skip over this classic PMS symptom? I mean, really. Really?

I did some Googling and have found no real good descriptions of what the first postpartum period is like (anyone?), but I did read I could experience symptoms for months (MONTHS????) before actually getting it. Women? Short end of the reproductive stick, am I right?

My sister asked if I was prepared if it did come, and that got me thinking that maybe I should dig around in the closet and see if there are any lone tampons floating around. Just in case.


Of course, if it’s not my impending period, then I am clearly dying.


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