I sent out my Christmas cards last week. I feel very led to make that point very blatant and well-known because I usually procrastinate with those types of things and the fact that I managed to get them in the mail before Christmas Eve, well, yay. So anyway, because I love my blog friends as much as my real-life friends, I wanted to wish you all Merry Christmas too, Christmas card style. Pretend you found this in your mailbox, stamped and sealed, and perhaps even with a spritz of perfume.

Merry Christmas, friends.

(From inababycarriage.com.)

Rob and I went to Chicago this weekend, did anyone pick up on that in my last post? I tried to be a little incognito about the whole thing because I didn’t exactly want the whole Internet to know our house would be empty all weekend long, although now that I think about it maybe I should have made more of an announcement about our absence because then we might have gotten an opportunity to give our new security system a test drive and really get our money’s worth out of it. Then again…yeah, maybe not so much.

Anyway, we dropped our little Punkin off with Mamie and Grandpa early Saturday morning and headed off to the Chi. When we got there we checked into the Affinia Hotel (which I got a killer deal on from Priceline, and thank goodness because otherwise I may have passed out when I saw that parking overnight would cost us $48, GAH). After that one might assume that we would start hitting up some stores since the whole point of this trip was to Christmas shop, but no, want to know what we did first? Two words: BLOODY MARYS. I’m pretty certain it’s my favorite drink, alcoholic or not, and I always feel good drinking it because I like to consider it my vegetable serving for the day, so basically what we have here is a Win-Win Situation.

After that we were finally ready to hit up the stores and succeeded in getting some Christmas shopping done, which also typically coincides with the time when Rob and I drop some dough on something for ourselves. For some reason, though, this year was different and we didn’t shop for ourselves at all. This could possibly be because we chose to instead use our time to stuff our faces with good food and drinks rather than shop. So naturally when lunchtime rolled around we sat down at a Mexican restaurant with a couple of margaritas and chips and queso, which is basically my definition of heaven on earth.

When we were good and stuffed, we did a little bit more shopping, took a quick nap back at the hotel, and then headed to dinner where we ate some delicious Italian food and drank lots of tasty wine. After dinner we went to a jazz club that was just a few blocks away and enjoyed a couple more drinks and some live music. It was at this point when I began to mentally calculate approximately how many calories I had inhaled for the day, but luckily for some reason I wasn’t exactly thinking very straight and my normal mediocre math skills became even worse than a four year-old’s, which was really quite a relief.

After a long, wonderful, peaceful night of sleep we woke up and went out for brunch. I may have even had a bloody mary. VEGETABLES, YOU KNOW. By that point we were ready to get home to our baby, even though Mamie and Grandpa practically begged us to STAY AWAY! DON’T COME HOME! CAN WE KEEP HER? They really know how to make me feel loved, but I’m glad they apparently had a nice time with Avalon.

Now I’m home and on a food and drink detox, but unfortunately have not been very successful, so yet another reason why those skinny jeans can stay out of my closet and out of my life. And by the way, I did end up wearing my straight leg jeans, boots, and red little jacket. And I totally meant to take a picture to prove to you all and myself that I am able to pull myself together from time to time, but that darn camera battery was deader’n a door nail. Will I ever learn to charge those things? No. No, apparently I won’t. But maybe it’s a good thing the camera was dead, because I can only assume that all of the pictures would be of us with our mouths stuffed with food.

Thanksgiving 2009 was a great one. Not only did we stuff ourselves silly with two turkey dinners – one with Rob’s family and another with mine – but it was, of course, our first Thanksgiving with Avalon which made it better than ever. It was a long and eventful day, but she hung in there like a trooper and even took a few naps along the way.

Nap #1 at Grandma and Grandpa T’s. Also, outfit #1.

Nap #2 at Grandma and Grandpa B’s. And, yes, outfit #2. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t commit to one outfit. They were both too adorable. I’m realizing that that is the consequence of having a daughter.

After dinner Avalon helped me with my exercises. She likes to assist me with my crunches.

There is almost nothing cuter than a flying baby wearing tights.

By the end of the day, Avalon had had enough. She was one tired puppy and fell asleep in her Great Great Grandma’s (I know! Can you believe it?! Isn’t Avalon lucky?) arms. Grandma M. still has the touch after all these years!

1. I feel gypped. Birthing a baby in early fall then trying to lose the baby weight at the same time that the holidays roll around sucks. It’s hard enough to try and maintain your weight November through January, when cookies and peppermint mochas and pumpkin pies are floating around, but LOSING weight through all of this? The undeniable failure is already driving me to the cinnamon rolls. These last five pounds are giving me the most trouble, and that flat stomach I once had has been replaced by a baby bulge that clearly reads AVALON WUZ HERE.

2. I’m really looking forward to the long weekend with Rob. We’re going to decorate for Christmas, which means buying a new tree, because the last tree we bought two years ago was cheap. And cheap trees means straggly and ugly. Since this is our first Christmas in this house I have all sorts of new decorating ideas I can’t wait to try. Garland, stockings, twinkle lights…Rob is thrilled!

3. Here’s a secret for ya. Shhh. *Avalon slept through the night last night.* I don’t want to say it too loud for fear of jinxing myself. But she did! She slept from 8pm – 7am without even a peep or squeak out of her! I’m not sure if that was a fluke or if we’re turning a new corner filled with lots and lots of hours of sleep. I’m really hoping for the latter.

4. So now that my body has healed and is back to normal I’m back on birth control. Although I hope that God blesses us with more babies in the future, I am crossing my fingers that it isn’t in the next couple of years. Problem is, well, there are two problems: 1) I am horrible at taking pills on a regular basis. I forget. I get lazy. Blah blah, needless to say popping pills is not the best, safest birth control for me AND RIGHT NOW I AM ALL ABOUT BEING SAFE, and 2) the NuvaRing, which I am on right now, is giving me migraines almost daily. This happened the last time I was on it, but for some reason I was thinking maybe it wouldn’t do that anymore. Unfortunately, all the headaches have resulted in me taking some left over Vicodin from one of Rob’s previous ailments for the past three days. I think this might be a problem, only I’m not really sure what to do about it.

5. I’m desperately trying to come up with something to say that’s not Avalon-related. But the only thing that comes to mind is something food-related. Why is it that AVALON and FOOD are the only two subjects on my mind ALL THE TIME?

6. …..

7. …..

8. This post sucks. Goodbye forever.

Last week while running some random errands I stopped in TJ Maxx to see if they had any of the beautiful glass apothecary jars that I had seen on their shelves before. I had eyeballed those jars for years, never able to commit to spending the money on them, but knowing full-well that they would look perfect somewhere in my house. Finally on that random Thursday last week I decided it was time to bring them home. Surprisingly, however, when I found them in the store they weren’t the normal large jars I had seen before, they were miniature, cuter versions of their former selves, perfect for sitting as a centerpiece on my dining room table with some seasonal candy inside of them.

Although the stores have already nose-dived into the holiday spirit with their twinkle lights, Christmas music, and red and green candy strewn all through the aisles, I wasn’t ready to give in yet. Not yet. Not until Thanksgiving has come and gone. So instead I tried to find fall-ish candy with which to fill my new pretty jars: candy corn (duh), dark chocolate Reese’s peanut butter cups (because of the color of the wrapper and, okay, BECAUSE THEY ARE AWESOME), and peanut butter and jelly M&M’s (which, although they have a fall color scheme, are absolutely disgusting. Don’t buy them. I’m warning you).

Thus is my beautiful new centerpiece. The only unfortunate part is that there is a certain someone who lives with me that keeps dipping into the M&M’s because he seems to think that they taste good. HE IS SO WRONG.

So here’s the thing: Avalon and I are in Florida! And here’s the other thing: I had a few anxiety attacks prior to make the trek down here. See, I always get a little anxious when I fly, not because of the FLYING part, but because of the security. I HATE GOING THROUGH SECURITY. Those people are so mean, and so demanding, and do I really need to practically strip down naked to assure those people I’m not hiding a bomb in my bra? So obviously my anxiety was multiplied knowing I was taking my seven week-old through security and on a plane with me. Would she scream the entire way? Would her schedule that I have worked so hard to establish get totally thrown off? How was I going to change her diaper on a plane?

Needless to say, I prayed for safe and seamless travel for the past two weeks. And as always, Jesus provided. Avalon did awesome! She slept the entire car ride to Chicago and all through the airport, security was a breeze, and we even had time to grab a bite to eat at a restaurant before boarding our plane.

Then after we boarded the plane she nursed through take-off and believe it or not, WAS AWAKE THE ENTIRE PLANE RIDE. And didn’t even cry! She just relaxed, sat back, and enjoyed the ride, just as every commercial pilot has instructed his passengers to do. There was one time when she had a bit of an explosion in her diaper, which was bound to happen…so we changed her diaper right there in our row, across the legs of my mom and sister. We instantly became one of those families.

Avalon’s had a lot of fun since we’ve been on vacation and is getting loads of attention from her Mamie and Aunt Courtney. She’s been such a good girl, and we’re going to have so much fun Girl Time with her. We’re starting by having a pillow fight in our panties tonight!

Even though Avalon is only a six week-old little shrimp, I was determined to take her to the pumpkin patch this weekend for some fall fun. Gotta start traditions early, I say. We took my parents with us, not only because I like them but also because we needed some official photographers. Heh.

My little punkin needed her own little punkin. Just her size.

She’s there, under all those blankets, I swear.

I took this picture so that down the road when Avalon asks me for a pony (it’s bound to happen. She’s a girl.), I can tell her that Mamie and Grandpa already got her a pony, she was just really, really little at the time and doesn’t remember it. Motherhood has already taught me a valuable lesson, that is ALWAYS THINK AHEAD.

Me and my favorite little person.

Apparently Rob snapped this photo when I wasn’t really ready, although now I kind of like it because of the expression I have on my face while looking down at my belly. Something about it says, whoa, what the heck is goin on here? Exactly how many DQ blizzards have I eaten? Oh right! It’s not the ice cream, it’s a baby! A BABY THAT IS SUPPOSED TO MAKE HER WAY OUT OF MY CROTCH IN TWO WEEKS!

Of course now that I’m **this close** to being a mama, all I’ve been thinking about lately is labor. Not how much it’s going to hurt or how I’m going to deal with the pain, but other minute, ridiculous details that just won’t stop swirling around the inside of my head.

Like, what earrings do I want to wear? My hoops? My silver medallions? My diamond studs from Rob?

Or, since there’s a CD playing in the birthing suite, what kind of music do I want to listen to? Just yesterday while I was at work my iTunes was playing on shuffle and when “Canned Heat” by Jamiroquai, “Elevation” by U2, and “Freedom” by George Michael all came through the speakers I couldn’t help myself from breaking out some sweet dance moves. Which made me think, hmm, could these be good labor tunes? Would it be fun to turn my labor into a dance party? Has anyone ever done that before? SHALL I START A NEW MOVEMENT? I just don’t know. Moms, would U2 lighten up the mood in a birthing suite, or does it make you start writhing in pain again just thinking about it?

And by the way, I’m totally kidding about the music. Kind of.

At this week’s OB appointment my doctor checked me for any dialation and told me that Avalon must be quite comfortable because my cervix is completely closed, to which I responded, well I’m glad that one of us is comfortable! Ha! Ha! Because with each passing day I can literally feel that she is getting bigger and quickly outgrowing her living quarters. Sometimes my belly feels so stretched and rock hard that I’m afraid that BOING! a little foot with five wiggly toes is going to pop out the side of my abdomen and that we’d have to start a new freakshow career down at Key West’s Mallory Square. However, I’m finding peace knowing that she’s going to come out whenever she’s ready, whether that be tonight or three weeks from now. Besides, I have a mani/pedi to take advantage of before then anyway and, you know, priorities.

In other news, today was my last full day working at the office. From here on out I’ll be working from home, and only stopping in the office on an as-needed basis. Rob likes to joke about how I’m ‘retiring,’ then I go ahead and remind him that not only will I still be actually WORKING from home, I’m also taking on a new job, one that requires 24-hour a day attention and on-demand boobs but doesn’t even pay minimum wage. If that’s retirement, then there are millions of sixty-five year old men who have some explaining to do.

It’s a little bittersweet leaving the office, the place where I have spent the past two years, and next Monday when Dad helps me pack up all my stuff I am already imagining it to be similar to when I moved out of the house and went away to college, only I’m thirty pounds heavier and have finally given up the Sun-In. It’s been really fun working with Dad everyday, though, and I have to admit, I’m going to miss being there and seeing him day in and day out. Well, most days. That is, the days when he’s not out of the office and in Florida or Cedar Point or the Bahamas.

But the point is, I’m going to miss him.

Rob is taking me to get a pedicure tonight. I asked him yesterday if he would since my toes are in total disrepair and 1) it’s physically impossible for me to contort my body enough to reach down and paint my own toes and 2) I don’t exactly trust Rob to do it. However, I’ve realized that me saying that Rob is “taking me to get a pedicure” sounds a lot more glamorous and romantic than it really is, considering all he is doing is dropping me off at the salon while he goes and runs some of his own errands. It’s not like he’s going to sit with me throughout the whole thing or whip out cash to pay for the pedicure when I’m done. So really, scratch that first sentence, Rob has nothing to do with it. 

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Etsy has been a dear friend of mine ever since I found out that we were expecting a girl. Are you aware of the endless treasures that etsy offers for babies? So far I have bought lots of headbands, bows, and baby leg warmers for Avalon and everything is so adorable. It was all moderately priced, too, and I really like buying straight from the artists themselves. Something about it makes me feel like a good samaritan. 

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I’ve turned into a peach fanatic lately. In the past three days I’d estimate that I’ve eaten at least seven peaches. They’re so juicy and good this time of year, it makes me wish that summer lasted all year long so we could enjoy the fresh produce. I thought about whipping up some peach cobbler or peach pie or peachy something-or-other, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I think I must unconsciously love the unadulterated peaches too much to let them mingle with flour and sugar. And if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. 

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Yesterday I got to meet the Head Honcho of labor nurses at the hospital where I will be delivering Avalon (she is a client of my mom’s). She was really, really nice and made me feel very comfortable and at ease about labor and delivery. Her biggest piece of advice for me was to STAY OUT OF BED when in labor. Stay on my feet, move around, use the tub, do the hokey-pokey, whatever it takes. Which is all good, but you know what all those things mean? No epidural. Epidurals essentially glue your butt to the bed and you forfeit the opportunity of getting out of it until after the whole thing is done and over with. So! I think I’m going to try and remain mobile and epidural-free for as long as my body can handle it. This could be six minutes or six hours. What a fun gamble. Anybody want to place any bets? 

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You know when your split ends are screaming at you to get a haircut but you ignore all the commotion and let it just keep on growing, dry, split ends and all? That’s where I am right now, as I’m on a quest to grow my hair long again. My hair has been every length and color in the past twelve years, from pixie cut to way down my back, and here is some more recent evidence:

This was right before our wedding, and was the longest my hair had ever been. I had grown my hair out for a couple of years knowing that I wanted it really long for my wedding. Then I got married and this happened:

I hacked it off, a la Posh Spice, and donated the remains to Locks of Love figuring that, hey, my wedding was over, I didn’t need all that hair anymore.

Now I’m in the BLAHHHH middle/boring length trying to get it back to where it was pre-wedding. I don’t know why, I guess I just liked it. And also (THIS IS GOING TO SOUND SO SHALLOW, CAN’T BELIEVE I AM EVEN SAYING THIS), I want to be a ‘cute mom’. And I picture myself as a ‘cute mom’ with long hair. Also: I love throwing my hair up into a quick ponytail.

Ugh, I am ridiculous. Somebody slug me. 

*******

Last Saturday Rob completed his first half Ironman, the Steelhead 70.3 Ironman. It was only the second triathlon he had ever done, his first being last summer’s sprint triathlon.

The first leg of the race was the swim in Lake Michigan. The athletes swam 1.2 miles along the shore, and Rob made it in only 34 minutes. Here he is in his fancy new wet suit, which helps him stay buoyant and warm in the water. If I wasn’t so kind and sensitive to his feelings, I would love to post a video of him putting it on. LORDY, is that a good show. He makes fun of me when I put on leggings or tights for doing several deep squats and knee raises to get them on, but watching him putting on a wetsuit totally trumps me in the tights. It’s a full-body workout, leaving him with sweat on his brow when he’s finally in it. Then I call him Scuba Steve.

After getting out of the water he transitioned into the bike portion of the race, and cycled a total of 56 miles in just under three hours.

Finally, he got off the bike (still smiling, no less… whaaaaat?) and all he had to do to complete the race was run 13.1 miles, which he finished in 2:07. I’m trying not to be offended that he beat my (one and only) half marathon time by a minute after already exerting himself for four hours.

Overall, he finished the race in 5:52:40. His goal was to finish in six hours, so he did it! I was so proud of him, and gave him lots of TLC the next day. Funny enough, when he got out of bed the following morning all he complained about was his neck hurting. Not his quads, not his feet…HIS NECK.

This sounded like a pretty good plan to me, so my postpartum goal is to have only a sore neck, too.