Monthly Archives: February 2013


So What If

I effing Hate naps. Hate, with capital H. Which is sacrilege to the spirit of pre-preggo Sara, because, dude, from college on? Naps have been one of the highlights of any day I’ve been able to fit one in. But these days? When they’re actually necessary because I’m growing a person in me and I’m uncontrollably exhausted by 1:30 every day? They suck. I wake up disoriented and with a headache and completely groggy. And it takes at least an hour to snap out of it. Two to actually feel good. Sometimes longer. Ugh. As necessary as they are (and they are — my eyes close without my permission almost every day) they are not even refreshing in the slightest.

I am having a lot of Feels over the most recent episode of Hart of Dixie.

I took the glucose test on Monday morning. It wasn’t as bad as I feel like it’s often made out to be. No, the drink wasn’t awesome, but mostly it reminded me of a mix between orange soda and orange gatorade — just with a buttload more sugar. The part that sucked was the five minutes immediately after. I was super nauseous. My palms started sweating. And I just wanted to lie down. Actually, I wanted to lie down for the entire hour I had to wait before they drew my blood, so that sucked. Especially because the chairs in the lab were NOT COMFORTABLE. So if I fail and have to take it again, except next time it’s a 3-hour ordeal? I’m screwed.

Since I don’t know yet if I failed, though, I stopped on my way home and bought two pints of Baskin Robbins ice cream. Peanut Butter Chocolate and Pralines & Cream. (If you’ve never tried their Pralines & Cream, shut up right now and go get some. It’s my serious jam.) I will be eating the shit out of that ice cream until I’m told I have to give it up. God, I hope that doesn’t happen. Between the P&C and the  two  one and a half boxes of Thin Mints currently in my possession, I will seriously cry.

Jennifer Lawrence may go down in history as one of my favorite people ever. And I know it sounds like I’m jumping on the JLaw bandwagon, as she’s the new Hollywood It Girl, but no. I’ve loved that girl since her days of Winter’s Bone. (Another thing to shut up and go out to get if you haven’t seen it.)

We painted our nursery! (And, by we, I mean Nelsonic. I would have helped, but  I didn’t want to   I hate painting and N is so much better at it — he even freaking enjoys it once he gets into the rhythm   I’m pregnant and the fumes are no bueno in my condition.) And then? Our crib came! These two things suddenly made everything so much more real. Even without the bedding, which should arrive soon, I can’t stop staring. Like, it’s real now. Real real. (Okay, and granted, probably every little thing between now and when I’m pushing this little girl out of my body will suddenly make it real real, but still. Bear with me. I’m new to this shizz.)

Ugh. Update: I failed the stupid glucose test. Not by very much, but still. I have to go back for the three hour one. AND I have low iron, so I have to take supplements of that now, too. Which is no big. But the 3 hour glucose test is gonna suuuuuuuuck. FML. 

So What Wednesday is a blog meme started by Life After I “Dew.” (Click the link to see what other people are saying “so what??” to today.)


Baked Parmesan Seasoned French Fries

I discovered this recipe on Pinterest, and followed it to this blog post on Play with Sugar where the original can be found. Here’s how they turned out for me!

Um, okay. Let me start by saying these fries are SO good! And the best part is that besides tasting delicious? They’re easy.

No. Seriously. E-A-S-Y easy.

See. I like to make tasty things, but I am not a chef. I grew up with a father who is amazeballs in the kitchen. Creating delicious meals is his passion. While some daughters may have helped out and learned from his expertise, I… simply enjoyed eating those meals.

But I’m working on my kitchen abilities. Slowly. And with lots of failures.

These things?

NOT failures.

Yep. Served them with hot dogs. NOT super healthy. But I did get the kind that don’t have any nitrates added, so that counts for something, right?

If I can make them? ANYONE can. Trust me.

They’re basically just like:

Get your spices ready
Mix them together and then add parmesan cheese
(cheese not pictured)
Slice up the potatoes
Shake ’em all up in a bag
Spread ’em
Even just looking at this pic — where they’re not even cooked — makes my mouth water… 
Pull out…
… of the oven
Plate ’em up
Aaaaaand enjoy! 

I increased the amounts for most of the spices — and doubled the cheese — from the original recipe. AND this recipe, made with three medium potatoes was enough for two people. There were no left overs, thanks to the Nelsonic eating machine 😉

Oh, and also? The cheese adds such a nice crunch — but if you’re dairy-free, I bet these would still be pretty bangin’ without the parmesan…

Yeah, so?

So what if…

  • I’ve been sick all week. Fever. Cough. Phlegm. (ew) Night sweats. It suuuuucks. And my house is a disgusting mess because of it. Dishes piled up. Laundry piled up. Empty fridge… I *want* to say I don’t even care, but I do. I’m itching to clean and get organized and accomplish something. But every time I get up to do anything, I’m back in bed within, like, ten minutes. Ugh.
  • Though I did force myself to accomplish shaving yesterday. Because the hair on my legs was practically braidable. So sexy.
  • Watching Mumford and Sons perform at the Grammys made me even SUPER DUPER MORE EXCITED to see them live this Thursday. If I’m still too sick to go, something might get broken around here. 
  • Speaking of musicians, my love for Adele knows no bounds. There is not a single song of hers that I will ever, ever, ever consider played out. I will listen to her music until the day I die. 
  • Also, did you see Carrie Underwood’s dress at the Grammys? Because I swear, the two things that follow happened within a minute of each other! Seriously. Sometimes Nelsonic and I are just so perfect for each other. ❤
The dress, in case you missed it.
This is what I tweeted about it.
Cinna = Hunger Games reference. If you don’t get it, you SHOULD. 
And then? He texted the SAME THING!
His text came from downstairs, because I was sick in bed while watching.
He hadn’t seen my tweet (doesn’t even have a twitter account).

  • I don’t have anything that interesting left, so I leave you with this kinda hilarious pregnancy video. Enjoy 🙂

So What Wednesday is a blog meme started by Life After I “Dew,” a blog I recently started reading. (Click the link to see what other people are saying “so what??” to today.)


100 days.


100 days until I meet this little baby girl. The one whose kicks are getting strong enough to make my belly pop out in the spots where she karate chops. The one who I know without a doubt will rock my world in the best of ways.

100 days to get the nursery ready. Painted. Furniture delivered and set up. Closet doors redone and shelves revamped.

100 days to get my house organized. With a spot for everything. To make it easier to keep clean(ish, let’s be real) for those first few months years in which I won’t want to take the time to do extra cleaning when I could be playing with my little girl.

100 days to watch movies and explore and have dates with Nelsonic. 100 days to enjoy our last moments together as just us.

100 days to get as much TV and as many movies out of my system that I can.

100 days to actually sleep through the night. (Well, other than peeing every hour on the hour all night.)

100 days until I get to see that sweet face. To feel that soft skin against mine. To hear those first cries. To have my own finger held in her teeny tiny ones.  (How am I not sobbing while I type this? I am on the inside, that’s for sure.)

(Honestly? While typing that last 100 days mark–and rereading it–I suddenly feel the first inklings of that LOVE that I keep hearing about. That unconditional, holy-shit-I’ve-never-felt-anything-like-this LOVE for my little girl. I can’t even begin to imagine how strong it will be by first time I hold her.)

100 days.

100 days.

100 days.

100 days.

100 days.
Or, if I’m really honest with myself, LESS than 100 days. Because at my gender reveal sonogram, when I supposedly was 18 weeks and 6 days, she actually measured at 19 weeks 5 days. Which, according to the paperwork, means my due date may be closer to May 13 than May 19. 
So basically, what I’m feeling is this: 

Or 13th. Or WHENEVER. I just can’t wait. And with 100 days or less left to go? THIS IS GETTING REAL.

So What Wednesday

So What If

  • I’m kind of obsessed with the first two episodes of Kevin Bacon’s new show, The Following. They were intense and creepy and surprising in the best of ways. I wish I could plot my books the way those writers do each episode–they seriously don’t pull any freaking punches. (The third episode was a little more predictable, but I’m holding out hope that the show stays strong.)
  • Nelson’s birthday is in a month, and I’m doing something I’ve never done before. Getting him a gift that secretly really want. (BUT he’ll definitely be pumped for it, too, so I’m not being totally selfish.) I’m getting him a juicer because I want to up my intake of fruits and veggies. I mean, I have definitely been eating more of them while pregnant. But I want more. Then last night I watched a documentary (Fat, Sick & Nearly Dead) which was all about the healthy benefits to juicing. I’ve been thinking about it recently anyway (I have a few friends who rave about it) and the documentary pushed me over the edge. I’m not going to fast or anything; I’ll just add juices to supplement my fruit & veggie consumption.  
  • I keep reading that you should give your pets less attention while you’re pregnant, so they’re better prepared when the baby comes and you don’t have time for them anymore. And every time I see this particular piece of advice, I shake my head a little harder. My cats are my first babies — the Original Family, if you will. There aren’t too many things I’m certain of regarding what it will be like when baby girl arrives, but one thing I know for sure? I will still make time for the kittehs.
Loves of my life foreverrrrrr.
  • Last weekend was super hectic–but fun (mostly). We had new floors put in at the condo we rent out (God, I can’t wait to get rid of that thing). N’s family came to town for a surprise bday for his cousin–we went out in DC with a stretch hummer (SO FUN) and then headed back to his place for the actual surprise party complete with a DJ and a zillion people. We hosted N’s family (and my parents and uncle) for a super bowl party. It was loud and crazy with tons of food. I didn’t go to bed before 12 ONCE all weekend (and that’s saying something for a girl who’s usually crawling under covers by 9, #Lame). Now it’s Wednesday and I… am still not recovered. As a social introvert, I’ve always needed a lot of downtime after social events. But as a preggo social introvert? TIMES THAT BY A ZILLION.
    Baby girl’s first limo ride!
    PS. It was *not* as comfortable as you might think to be pregnant in a limo. Even a stretch one.
    Posting this pic as proof that I actually got ready. Like, put-on-makeup-and-straightened-my-hair ready.
    Probably the least creative-looking chalkboard design in the history of mankind. But, in my defense:
    1) I didn’t think to use the chalkboard until about 3 minutes before people started arriving, so I was short on time, and
    2) I suuuuuuuuuuck at drawing.
    Also, this is the chalkboard I got to use with weekly bump photos at the start of my pregnancy. Has it been used even once for that reason? HAAAAAAA. No. 
    • I have ordered (and returned) about six different baby shower dresses. With less than a month and a half to go until my shower, I’m starting to feel some serious anxiety about it. Which is stupid because, yanno, I have a freaking month and a half still. 
    • I swore to myself, after purchasing my diaper bag, that I wouldn’t buy any more bags of any kind for a very very long time at least a little while. Except then Kate Spade just had to email me about a surprise sale and I broke that promise to myself. Because really, how cute is this? AND it was 75% off. AND I won $40 in our super bowl bet thingy, so really… It just about bought itself. How could I not order it?
    (Gold Coast Ginnie)
    I love the bright pop of color — and I’m kinda really into cross-body bags at the mo’. 

    So What Wednesday is a blog meme started by Life After I “Dew,” a blog I recently started reading. (Click the link to see what other people are saying “so what??” to today.)

    Internet research vs. doctor advice…

    Barefoot and pregnant. Just like every woman should be!
    Juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust kidding.
    Also: Clearly, those are wish fulfillment skinny legs…

    Yeah, so. I learned the hard way about internet research during pregnancy about pregnancy.

    NOT the best idea. 
    Unless you enjoy being completely freaked out of your mind. Because, yanno, maybe you do.

    But me? At first? Man, I was looking up what my HCG levels meant. What the ridiculously much-higher-than-expected jump in count after three days meant. I was looking up what every ache and pain could possibly be. I was looking up every single ingredient in the vitamins I was taking to see what they each did–and to see if I was missing anything. I was PANICKED because I had a severe upper respiratory infection, posted about it on a message board, and heard back that it can lead to autism and learning disabilities. Or something like that.

    Meanwhile? Every time I called my doctor? (Yes, every time. As in multiple times.) I heard, don’t worry. You’re fine. You have everything you need in your one prescription prenatal vitamin. Your cold will not cause your fetus to sprout a second head and possible third arm. Nope. Not even a third nostril. You’re safe. Really, you can stop worrying. And, for the sake of your sanity, stop looking things up on the internet.

    Did I let those reassurances reassure me? Yeah, no. I stayed on the message boards, having every single answer analyzed by complete strangers who seemed like they knew what they were talking about.

    But… that’s the thing about people on message boards, though. Sometimes they seem sooooooooo knowledgeable–when they’re secretly whack-jobs who have NO idea what they’re speaking about. And that’s the thing about medical websites that SEEM completely legit. Looks and language can be deceiving. In the other part of my life, in the writing world, I’ve met tons of people online first and then in real life at conferences and retreats and stuff. Most of them? Perfectly sane and nice. But a few? NUTJOBS. And I’d neverrrrrr have known, had I only maintained contact with them online.

    (And don’t get me wrong. I’ve met some lovely mothers-to-be on message boards! It’s great to connect with other people who are going through–or striving to go through–the same things you are. Message boards and forums and online sources are great things for many reasons.)

    AndButSo. Back to the pregnancy side of my life. After many sleepless, worry-filled nights, which I KNEW were bad for both me and that precious little bean growing in my belly, and the realization that people have been listening to the advice of doctors for a long time and having perfectly happy, normal, and healthy babies–I decided to let it all go. To trust my competent, have-been-doing-this-for-years-and-years-and-years team of OB doctors.

    It’s been great. When I have questions, I take them to the doctor, not the internet. I can sleep. I’m not reading six million different opinions each day. Which allows me to get other things done. Like laundry. And dishes. And planning meals instead of ordering out every night.

    But… Now? Because I have a prescription that I’m taking for a bacterial infection? I’m having trouble staying on that care-free wagon. Of course when the doctor prescribed it, I asked if it was safe for the baby (as if she’d prescribe something that wasn’t???). She assured me it was–but also mentioned that if I looked on the internet I’d find people saying scary things about taking any sort of prescription drugs while pregnant. I laughed and told her I stayed clear of those crazies these days, so I’d take her word for it.


    A few years ago, I asked my regular doctor if staying on my anti-depressant would be safe if I got pregnant. (Back during a time when I thought I was ready, but N wasn’t quite there.) And she told me it was on a safe list and I’d be fine. Fast forward to today? Yeah. That medication is on a list of NOT safe medications. Like, it has been shown to cause severe birth defects.


    Okay, so. A few deep breaths later…

    I still will not look this up on the internet. I won’t.


    And, anyway, if I DON’T take this medicine? And the infection DOESN’T go away? I could go into preterm labor.

    Soooooo, yeah. That makes the decision pretty easy.

    There’s no way to predict the future. Maybe someday the medication will be deemed unsafe. But for now, it’s safe and it’s necessary and I cannot stress like this over every little thing. My goal is to stay zen with the pregnancy–and it’s been going just that way for quite some time now.

    I will keep it that way.

    I will, I will, I will.

    Work, work, work it out

    For the entire first trimester, I was way too sick to do much more than 1) vomit or 2) be miserably nauseous on the couch all day. Working out did not happen even a little bit. But, I lost weight as opposed to gaining it because I couldn’t eat anything. So I guess that was the silver lining, because it helped to keep me from growing into something resembling a whale. Which I was CERTAIN would happen when I got pregnant.

    Then with the start of the second trimester and the return of my ability to eat and have energy, I started working out with a new trainer (my old one left) twice a week. I knew I should be doing more on my own, but I was so caught up in this new energy that I was using it all to research baby things. Registry must haves. Nursery ideas. Discussing these things for hours with L every day. Cleaning out closets. Reorganizing kitchen pantries. (Well, pantry. Singular.) You know. Basic nesting tendencies that apparently we all go through while preggo. (Oh, and also, dealing with less than stellar rental situation at the condo we own/rent out. Otherwise known as the bane of my existence. Which is an entire other post on its own regarding broken leases, mold removal, the replacement of hardwood floors… Which will probably never get written because unless I’m directly dealing with it, I try to pretend it doesn’t exist.)

    But then. The other day. I went to zip up my favorite pair of boots (those pictured in the blog’s header) and I almost COULDN’T get the zippers all the way up over my calves. Granted, they aren’t super loose boots to begin with, but still. It was a wake up call. Slowly and surely, I’m starting to swell in areas other than my belly and my boobs. And, yes, I made it through the first half of my pregnancy without becoming a blimp–there is still pleeeeeenty of time for that to happen! So I’m upping my game. I’ll still do two days a week with my trainer, but I also will be in the gym on my own 2-3 additional times a week on the treadmill for at least half an hour.

    I went twice last week. The first time was misery. I didn’t feel like doing it. The entire treadmill workout felt monotonous. But THEN the second time, I made a pattern out of it. I started at an incline of 2 for 2 minutes, then inclined at 4 for 4 minutes, 6 for 6, 8 for 8… (A couple at 10) and then I went back down by 2 every 2 minutes. It made time go by SO much faster. When I hit the 30 minute mark, I could have kept going. (I didn’t because I had errands to run.) But I guess that’s how I work best. Watching the clock–but not in the eye-rolling-ugh-is-this-over-yet way, instead, in an interval-slash-change-things-up way. And it totally helped.

    For a non-preggo me, this wouldn’t be the BEST end result of a treadmill workout. But I was conscious of my heart rate, trying to keep it between 130 & 140 the whole time, and this is soooooo much better than nothing 🙂