Not a Birthday Thing

So, all pregnant women gain weight differently, as I’m sure you know. I’ll go ahead and admit that I gained 42 pounds with Mary Bullock, 8 pounds of which never went back from whence they came.

But the strange part about my weight gain during that pregnancy was that I gained a good 30 of those 42 pounds in my last trimester alone.

I think that what happens is that I throw up for the first trimester, cruise through the second trimester thinking I’m golden, and then WHAM! One day my thighs decide to get in a fist fight.

Now, I’m only half way through my second trimester, and I’m really only up a handful of pounds so far, but my thighs could take it no longer. As they let me know quite rudely yesterday.

Ya’ll, it hurts.

I’m putting myself on thigh rest. They’re certainly not going to get any farther apart in the next 18 weeks, so I’m imposing a mandatory restraining order for the both of them for the next two hours.

Meanwhile, I will be watching A Baby Story. Lee calls Law & Order his research, this is mine.


Halloween Love/Hate

I’m a big Halloween hater, for those of you who don’t know. The closest I have come to dressing up in the last six years was my first year in Jacksonville, and Julie and Jill (and Ashley too, maybe?) were coming into town for our Florida-Georgia party. They gave me an ultimatum–dress up, or we’re not coming. So I wore a white shirt with a gold star pinned onto the lapel and called myself a cowgirl. That is about the height of my Halloween festivity.

I truly do hate to dress up in costumes, and it all dates back to my freshman year in college. Rachel and I dressed up as shooting stars–all black attire with gold stars stapled all over, armed with water guns. [I know, right? Creative! But you don’t know me very well if you think I had any part in coming up with that idea.] Anyway, if you’ve never been to Chapel Hill on Hallween, it’s an absolute madhouse. Unless you like being pressed up against drunk sweaty people you don’t know, in which case, this might be heavenly. But when I think of my own personal nightmare, this is it.

Anyway, I don’t actually remember anything truly horrible happening that night (other than bumping into drunk sweaty people, which, while disgusting, is not quite traumatic), but whereas before I had no particular affinity or aversion to the holiday, after 1996 Halloween officially became a Thing I Hate.

Needless to say, I have not been overly enthused about dressing Mary Bullock up for Halloween this year (my dressing up is not even a question, but I hated to poop her party, you know?). But that was before I came up with The Costume. It’s brilliant, I think. Simple, lovely, all composed of attire that we actually own and will wear again!

I can’t tell you what it is yet because I don’t want to ruin the surprise. But I will give you a hint:

It is not my birthday.


I have to say, today I am struggling for a post. Struggling. It has not been a great morning in our house, let me tell you. And if I hadn’t pre-shamed myself into refraining from complaints on this blog, ya’ll would get an ear/eyeful.

This blog is, after all, about Birthday Things and not Things I Hate.

But just because I can’t snark doesn’t mean other people can’t, right? And that doesn’t mean I can’t snarf a little at it, right? Because I haven’t had a lot to laugh about this morning, but I did chuckle at this.