Life lately, according to Instagram

Recently, I've become obsessed with the Instagram app. It's a fun way of snapping little shots throughout the day I might feel silly pulling out the camera for. Here's a little of what has been going on lately. 

1. Baby Santa hat and booties for next year's Christmas card 

2. Scott had the Sleep Sheep set up like this when I got home a few weeks ago. He said that the sheep knew the baby would be a boy. He was right!

3. The crib is here! Now for the assembly part. 

4. Apple cider on a cold night.

5. Scott surprised me with a new Christmas tree Tuesday night. He's definitely a keeper. 

6. My feet are slowly being eclipsed. 

Have a great weekend! We're finishing up decorating for Christmas and getting started on the nursery.

P.S. Be sure to follow me on Instagram!

Last night's dinner: Loaded baked potato soup

I'm not the cook in the Hannigan household; that's no secret. Lately, though, I've been itching to get in the kitchen, and not just to raid the pantry and eat peanut butter out of the jar. I don't know if it's my maternal instincts kicking in, but I've been pinning lots of dinner ideas on Pinterest.

At the top of my "to eat" list was this loaded baked potato soup made in the crockpot. With my Tuesday night classes, dinner is a bit of a balancing act. Sometimes Scott will eat then make something for me when I get home, sometimes he'll wait, and sometimes it's a "grab whatever you can out of the fridge and make due" kind of night. I decided that this soup would be a good Tuesday night dish because Scott could eat it when he got home, I could eat it later, and it would still be warm and ready either way. Plus we have leftovers for Wednesday night before church.

Plus it incorporated my favorite kitchen tool: the crockpot. I love the crockpot. You dump all the ingredients inside that morning, turn it on and go. It's like fairies are making your dinner while you're at work.

This soup is perfect for those who are fans of O'Charley's version. We topped ours with cheese, ham (we didn't have bacon bits), and sour cream. I ate two bowls without shame. I knew I'd done well when Scott said, "Wow, honey, this is really good." It's a keeper!

Here's the recipe if you're interested!

Ingredients:
1 30oz. bag of frozen, shredded hash browns (I used Ore Ida)
3 14oz. cans of chicken broth
1 can of cream of chicken soup
1/2 cup onion, chopped
1/4 tsp. ground pepper
1 pkg. cream cheese (This can't be fat free. It won't melt.)

Combine everything except the cream cheese in the pot. Cook for 6-8 hours on low heat (I did 10 because of timing, and it was just as good). An hour before you're ready to serve, add the cream cheese and maintain heat until completely melted. Serve with whatever baked potato fixings you'd like.

(Recipe source here.)

It's a ....

BOY!!

Here is our precious baby boy! Have you ever seen anything cuter in your life? I know I haven't.

We found out Monday that our sweet little one is a boy, and we're thrilled! Everyone in our families (except for Scott and his grandmother) thought it was going to be a girl. The only word I think accurately describes how I felt when the ultrasound nurse told us it was a boy is flabbergasted. I was completely shocked in the very best way. I would let out a crazy laugh every now and then. While I never had specific leaning one way or another, I always thought it would be a girl but was thinking boy closer to time. I'm just so eager to meet our son!

I was amazed at how much our little peanut had grown from the last time we saw him. He was only 2.5 centimeters total at nine weeks, and now his little calf bone is that long. He's got the cutest froggy legs. He's a whopping 6 ounces! During the ultrasound, he even waved at us with his little pointer finger, his fist up by his mouth. And look at that little foot! Even as tiny as he is, he's got toenails on that foot. Our God is amazing!

Now knowing that he is a he, I can't wait for him to get here. I find myself unable to go to sleep, just laying there thinking about once he's here, tickling that foot and kissing his cheeks. April needs to hurry up!

Now we get to start preparing for the dapper gentleman nursery!

Week 17 and the great gender debate

Today is the day — the day every woman counts down to after she finds out she's pregnant. This afternoon we find out if our little one is a he or a she, no longer relegated to the awful "it" pronoun. I'm so excited!

According to the poll, it's all tied up — 25 think it's a boy, while 25 think it's a girl. The Chinese gender calendar says girl, the unscientific picking of a color-coded Hershey's kiss at Bible study said girl, and the pencil test Scott and I partook in during Intersession 2006 says girl.

"What is the pencil test?" you might ask. Well, let me enlighten you. Take a good old pencil, not these fancy mechanical kinds, and stick a threaded needle into the eraser. Now you have a swinging pencil pendulum. When placed over the wrist of a man or woman, the pencil takes on a mind of its own and begins to move in a circular motion. Hang tight, because some fortune telling is about to commence. This first circle is baby number one. Then the pencil, on its own accord, breaks free from the circle, and makes one of two lines — an up and down (toward the person and over the hand) or a side-to-side (across the wrist). Up and down is boy; side to side, girl. The pencil will continue this pattern of circles and lines until the number and sex of each of your children is predicted. It will then eerily stop, completely still.

Scott and I, still a young dating couple at the time, each took this pencil test at a cookout during Intersession. We each got the same result: one girl. (It always bodes well when the object of your affection matches up in children number.) Since then, I've always kind of expected that to be the case.

So, at 3:30 p.m., we'll see if the pencil is right or not! Then the clothes shopping can commence!

Thankful Thursday

Tuesday nights, I usually get home around 7:15 because of my hour-and-a-half long school law class after work. I'm pretty worn out at the end of those days and definitely hungry for dinner (I'm an early bird 5:30 eater). When I walked in the house this past Tuesday, my sweet husband had dinner cooked and ready to go and had cleaned the bathtub, vacuumed the house, and washed and dried two loads of clothes — even though he had had a rough day at work. I am incredibly thankful to have such a caring man to make the night I dread the most that much easier. He definitely wins the award for best husband in my book.

In addition to Scott, I'm thankful that Thanksgiving is next week, and Scott and I are taking the week off. A week of no alarm clocks, no school (although I have a project I have to complete), no responsibilities other than wearing pjs all day and eating turkey sounds positively heavenly. The glass-half-full look at being pregnant during the holidays is that you can get seconds and thirds (maybe fourths), and no one will think ill of you. The half-empty approach, though, is that by the end of these nine months, I might look like the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. I choose to be an optimist, though.

I always think of the song "Count Your Blessings" when I write these, and it's wonderful to be reminded that I have far too many blessing to count. And that is a blessing all by itself.

Marcel the Shell returns!

Usually people dread Mondays (OK, people and Garfield), but for me it's Tuesdays. In addition to work, I have two classes on Tuesdays, making for a non-stop day of blah. But today, on this rainy Tuesday, there's something sure to lift my spirits — the return of Marcel the Shell with shoes on!



(Click here to see the first Marcel.)

One last Razorback weekend

This weekend was our last Arkansas football game of the season. It was bittersweet for a number of reasons: one because it is also our last as season ticket holders (babies have to have tickets, too, and we think it's silly to pay for a seat for someone who won't even be able to sit up) and because Arkansas played my original home team, Tennessee.

Much like our baby's first piece of clothing was an Arkansas onesie, mine was a Tennessee shirt. Before I learned to talk and eventually shout "Go big orange," when asked "What's Tennessee?" I would hold up my chubby little pointer finger for "number one!" Needless to say, I got a couple of text messages from my family on Saturday asking who I was rooting for. I cheered for both, though, but I knew things weren't looking good for Tennessee.

Sunday before we left, we went and walked around campus to see the changing leaves and the University of Arkansas' major landmark, Old Main. It served as a hospital during the Civil War, but I like it because it's pretty.

The peaks of Old Main

Scott and I pose in front of Old Main.

Left: U of A chisels all of its grads names into the sidewalks around campus. These are the first years leading up to Old Main. Right: A breezeway leading up to the library's entrance.

We've had a great time each fall going to the Razorback games and enjoying Fayetteville, but we're looking forward to next year, curled up on the couch with our little one, trying to get his or her little fingers wiggling to call the hogs. Soon enough we'll be toting him or her up there to see it all firsthand. There's a lot to look forward to!