Nursery brainstorming

While we're still a month or more away from finding out the gender of the baby, I have been planning nursery possibilities from the beginning. I've never been a fan of the cartoon sheets and over the top primary colors of most nurseries and want this room to be a welcome and soothing space for baby as well as be appealing to mom and dad. I've been pinning a lot of ideas and have recently landed on the top two contenders.

For a little boy ...

The theme title Scott and I have decided on for a boy is "The Dapper Gentleman." The room has a preppy vibe to it, but he's still a boy's boy. I wanted to steer away from baby blues and pastels because that doesn't seem boyish to me. But I didn't want dump trucks or an all out football motif, either. (I mean, I'm an Arkansas fan, but this is just too much!) This nursery takes that English hunting lodge feel and adds a bookish spin to it. 

For a little girl ...

For a girl, the theme has been harder to pinpoint. I wasn't a big pink girl growing up, and I'm not looking to swathe my daughter in cotton candy, rainbows and unicorns. The overall vibe I'm going for is vintage girly. It's warm and friendly but not SPARKLES and BARBIE!!! I want it to have handmade, crafty touches as well as lots of older, weathered looking pieces. I didn't run completely away from pink, but it's definitely not an 80s hot pink-a-palooza. 

Now that Scott and I are united on a nursery theme, we've got larger hurdles to jump — like agreeing on a name. 

Week 11 and ironies

Week 11 belly

Cravings. In my nearly three months of pregnancy, I've had a few that really stuck out. Number one being carbs. I've always loved them, but in the depths of morning sickness, carbs were the one thing I could eat and not feel ill afterward. Lemon and tomato cravings surfaced around this time too, and I made a giant portion of Pioneer Woman's lemon pasta bake to feed this need with a side of baby tomatoes. I lived off that for a week.

One Saturday early on, I found myself in need of a Coke — badly. I had been doing really well and not having any caffeine, but I figured half a Coke was nowhere near my daily limit, and I was going to treat myself. The bubbles popped and fizzed like fireworks as I poured my drink over ice. My taste buds were eager for its sweet, refreshing jolt. Three big gulps later, and I felt it. Nausea. Again. I spent the rest of my day curled up on the couch angry at the Coke and my body for craving something that made it sick. Scott felt bad for me and finished my Coke for me. He's all about sacrifice.

This week, I've been all about a cheeseburger. It's all I want. Friday Scott took me out to get my fix. Let me tell you, that was the most delicious cheeseburger I've ever eaten. It was perfect. However, on the way home I turned into a fire breathing dragon as the heartburn kicked in. A couple of Tums and a glass of milk later, the blaze had yet to subside. But did I learn? No. While in Fayetteville for the game, I gave in to the siren call of a cheeseburger again, with the same results. I still don't regret the cheeseburger, though.

P.S. Don't forget you can vote on Baby Hannigan's gender in the right side bar!

Dealing with distractions

This week is midterm week — the first midterm week I've had in three years that actually brought stress upon me. I have a take-home test due tomorrow night, my nonfiction essay due tomorrow (with full class critique on Thursday — eep!) and school law annotated bibilography due next week.

I think this is the only way I'll get it all done.



Happy Monday!

Lean, mean cleaning machine

In March, I wrote this post about my "grown-up chore chart" and how I hoped it would help keep me organized and my house clean. Well, that chart crashed and burned — and I've yet to clean up that mess, too. I realized it'd gotten bad when the dust bunnies were packing up to move somewhere cleaner.

Some how I've completely lost all semblance of control when it comes to keeping my house clean. I blame our weekends away, but it's really more because of this ...

I've gotten so behind that the house is a monumental task, and I can't leave my poor couch all alone without me. I know in a few months idea of what being tired is will drastically change — between the baby, work, school, and the house — so I want to find a successful method before then.

So where do I turn, but to Pinterest. I found this cleaning chart designating each day a job. And while I turned my nose up at the idea of cleaning every day, I'm willing to give it a try and see if it is as terrible as I think it is. If it works, then I'll have a clean house and a happy husband.

I'm going to start this next week and then I'll report back and let you know how it goes. If it doesn't, then we're going to Plan B, which is buying this sign and calling it a day.

Week 10 and my spelling is trashed

I thought pregnancy brain was a slightly blown out of proportion ailment. I mean, as a non-pregnant person, I was forgetful and scatterbrained at times. That's just being ditzy. However, in the past week and a half, I've felt like an 80 year old in need of some ginkgo biloba. There are little brain fuzzies clogging up my thought process.

Conversations have been difficult as my vocabulary has seriously dwindled. Yesterday I couldn't summon the words "cookie sheet," "cooling rack" or "couch." (Maybe it's a C-words thing?) These things by themselves wouldn't be so bad, but now I can't spell either. Today alone I have racked up two glaring spelling errors on Facebook — and I'm a copy editor! What does this say about my reliability at work? I'm an occupational hazard.

I stand before you declaring that pregnancy brain is not a myth and that it had greatly affected my verbal/written capacity. I'm not responsible for any typos in this post.