Delusional

As a responsible preggo person I stopped running altogether about a month and a half ago. Which super sucked because I really love running. Outside especially. But I'll take what I can get.

Anywho, I started having contractions when I ran, which was no big deal but I thought I'd play it safe....cue the beautiful weather and watching other people go run. So I said, 'screw you conventions! There is nothing to say a 7-month pregnant person can't run AND push a jogging stroller!'

I really said that. Really.

(I also read an article about this mom who ran 5 miles the day she gave birth and I thought that as long as I don't go so far as to do that, I'm probably cool)

And then I acted on it and yesterday went for the most glorious 1 mile wog...no typo there! It's a walk-job combo of awesome.

And since that went swimmingly (as first runs often do) I decided to do it again today.

My knees kind of hurt. My bladder wanted to rebel. My legs were tired. But hallelujah I'm out there. Doing it. Sticking it to the man. All of that.

Kind of. In a pathetic sort of way. I wear a big sweater so that people can't tell I'm pregnant right away and therefore withhold judgement.

In any case, my delusional mind keeps concocting all these brilliant plans of running every morning until I pop this baby out (or 'drop a bowling ball', as my brother so kindly refers to the miracle of childbirth) and I've got a feeling that my body might not cooperate.

Because that's what happens when you're 7 months pregnant, tired of being so, jumping at the chance to do anything that you used to do and ignoring the -- pounds you've gained (yeah, you're not going to get that number).

Baby girl better get her Nike kicks ready...

We've Come A Long Way...

Me and Nick in our stroller back in the day:

My new beauty (Baby Jogger City Mini):

I love it. Luke is installing the car seat adapter and everything.

And while it is from Baby Jogger it is not a jogging stroller. Just a bitchin' everyday ride for my chickadees.

No biggie though because there's a BOB duallie on it's way (apparently) as we speak (or type. Or in your case, read. Covering my bases, here). Which is silly because I won't be able to use it with the little miss until she's older and she's not even here yet. And I have a single BOB....that is wedged into the trunk of the Kia at the moment. Not sure we'll be able to unwedge that beast outta there.

Obviously, I love me some strollers. I have 3 single strollers, too. Craigslist is going to love me in a couple of months when I try to downsize my stroller brood. Which probably won't happen because I really couldn't choose one to get rid of...I'm attached to those puppies :)

29 Weeks!

29 weeks, baby! Officially in the THIRD trimester. Third out of three(!). It is an ah-mazing feeling being this (relatively) close the end.

And all I need to do is buy a mattress for her crib. She'd appreciate that, I'm sure. And diapers. And convince Finn that he's not the center of the universe. We'd all appreciate that. That boy is spoiled with attention. I can't help myself.

Ok, so I'm not completely ready. But my sweet double stroller is set to arrive tomorrow. Don't fret, you'll see it. I will not be able to contain it's awesomeness.

But I am feeling fantastic still which is a humungo blessing when you're chasing around the energizer bunny of toddlers. He's an outdoorsman, what can I say?

So far, this is what this pregnancy has to offer me:

-Major heartburn. WAY worse than it was with Finn. Its like, all day everyday. Fruit is the worst. Citrus fruit is the worstest. And what do I like eating the most? Cruelly, fruit.

-Swollen feet but only at night. Which means my Birkenstocks that I was forced to buy around this time with Finn are still safely tucked unfashionably in the back of my closet.

-Lots of workout time. I'm still up at the gym at 5:45am most mornings and do a second strength or pilates workout later in the day. This is not to say IN ANY WAY that my weight is a lot less than I want it to be. It just means that I'm eating tons and it's not totally out of control. Blessing in disguise? We'll call it that.

- What I like to call the 'crazybelly' (yes, it must be all one word). This chica chica is unbelievably active most of the time. I see my belly moving in approximately 14 different directions at once and have been known to verbally tell her to stop freaking me out.

-An awesome post-baby wardrobe. I can't pass the Gap without buying something that I cannot wait to wear once little birdy gets here. I have, basically, their whole summer collection but I can't wear it yet. The suspense is killing me...but its keeping me going. And keeping me working out because dammit, I will fit into my skinny jeans like, stat.

The next two and a half months promise nursery refining, baby craft making and refraining from shopping for superfluous fabric and clothes...I'm going to try real hard on that one. Real hard.

It certainly is a belly...

Can't Say I Blame Him...

So yesterday Finn and I were doing the dreaded, loathed, and all around disliked task of grocery shopping.

(I don't know why I hate it so much. It probably has something to do with the fact that we live in a condo on the third floor so I can never get Finn AND the groceries up the stairs and I have to leave them in the car until Luke can come help. Is this what it's going to be like with a second kid??! 'Hey Luke, I could get both kids up the stairs, so I left one in the car...' Joking! I joke! Jeez. The main point of this aside is that I don't like to leave a job unfinished, nor do I like dislocating my shoulder by carrying all the groceries in one hand and helping Finn up the stairs with the other.)

To make this dastardly task more bearable whenever we go to the store Finn and I always share a chocolate doughnut to eat while we shop. I enjoy it, he enjoys it. Everybody wins.

Until yesterday. When *gasp!* I decided to get a non-chocolate doughnut.

Finn threw a huge fit. Because he wanted to share a chocolate doughnut. It was embarrassing not only because he was turning tomato-red in the shopping cart, but mostly because I've raised my child to expect a chocolate doughnut everytime we walk into a store.

Parenting fail?

I actually respect the guy. Because it's totally something I would do. And have done.

It's called knowing what you like :)

Fittingly at the park later that day I was taking some candid pictures of the little hellion and caught this beauty. He looks especially angry because the sun is in his eyes, but I swear he recovered his composure very quickly even if he wouldn't touch the non-chocolate offender. My mom added the text box because she's totally computer savvy like that:

He's gonna beat you up

Can You Believe It?!

Of course you can. This little monster turned 1 and a half today:

Ain't he precious? As you can see by his spider-y long legs, he's getting taller like his daddy every day. He skipped 18-24 month clothes and is now strictly in the 2T + category. Thank goodness though because if he turned out to be a shorty like me I'd feel bad. Height is a point of pride in the Rebarchik family.

Alas, I do not share that pride. In fact, going to a Rebarchik family reunion for me feels like visiting a bunch of giants...or it feels like I've turned into a dwarf. Take your pick.

I digress. Finn officially hit the big 1-8 and that means a few things:

-Potty training starts!...soon. Maybe. If I get around to it.

-Pacifier is going out the window!...maybe. Except at night. If I get around to it.

-Cake making to celebrate!...I DID get around to that (imagine that...of all things). It was delightful. Lemon cake, raspberry frosting. The works. It would be even better if fruit didn't give me heartburn from here to Hawaii. Seriously, the thought of oranges send me running for the Tums. I eat the anyways. Then commence running.

Did I digress again?! It is the sad result of blogging while watching Vampire Diaries. I need to know what supernatural teenage drama is going on. NEED.

Here we go again...Finn. His vocabulary has exploded but, as always, remains in the 'strange' category as far as words go. He's not so big on the 'mama' and 'bottle' type words, (you know traditional stuff) but tends to go more for 'dirty', 'dead', 'hot', etc.

And then there are the words that he starts but never seems to finish or vice versa. Water is just 'waaw', doggy is 'ggy' and 'bottle' is 'bo'. It's cute.

The word he does say perfectly? His sister's name. Which you don't know yet. The suspense must be killing you :)

He loves climbing on the couches now that he can, running outside, picking up trash (and sometimes not trash, i.e. my watch the other day) and throwing it out, and reading ALL of his books over and over and over again.

But his most favorite of favorite new activities?

Lifting my shirt and blowing raspberries on my belly.

Seriously.

It's almost embarrassing. But then it tickles, and I laugh and as long as he doesn't do it in public, I'm good.

Sometimes he'll lay his head on my belly afterwards and the sweet gesture makes it all better.

All in all he's a happy boy who is a total gem. Most of the time.

He can also feed horses carrots like a boss :)

Like a Hobbit Without All the Hair...

Hear that? That's me giving myself some well deserved pats on the freaking back over here. Or it could just be my sausage feet thumping across the floor...to be explained.

Not only did I use my new sewing machine, but I actually made something with it (an accomplishment I was doubting would ever happen as it sat in our kitchen for a couple of days...taunting me).

I even went so far as to go to a class at Joann's before I started all this business. I use the term 'class' lightly...it was me and the teacher. Who insisted on showing me all the fancy stitches and explaining to me how simple all my projects were. And I was like, 'lady, I've never sewed in a straight line before...nothing about this is simple. I don't even know what you're talking about half the time.'

But, you know, in not so many words. I'm very polite like that.

In any case, I shall now reveal my masterpieces:

My first attempts with the machine=burp cloths. Because what better to start out with than something that is supposed to be spit up one? Still, I made them fabulous.

A loooong blanket that Finn is using. right. now. Soft fabrics reveal a whole new side of Finn...as in, he rubs it all over his face and coos like a pigeon. He's manly like that.

And last but not least, this whole sewing thing made my feet swell up to sausage proportions. I don't know how and I don't know why. But my feet look ridiculous right now.

See what I mean? Yikes!

This Just Got Real...

I may have never used a sewing machine ever in my life ever, but we just brought this sweet puppy home:

We'll say I took this picture...because my photography skills never do anything justice. Trust me.

She's pretty big and expensive, but a real beauty, no? All vintage-y and stuff. 160th Anniversary Singer. All of that.

Did I mention I've never used a sewing machine before?

Thankfully, Luke grew up in home with a wonderfully craft-y mother and no sisters. Which means his poor mother was left with no protege and Luke was taught to sew at an early age. Which means he just taught me what a 'bobbin' was. Seriously...

Joanne's offers free classes, too. Truly a blessing for this desperate novice. Plus, I'm always game for classes taught by the geriatric crowd. I feel like I belong...

In any case, I'm very excited to start making things. All sorts of things. Ask me to make something! Anything! And in a couple of months I'm sure I'll figure it out

This is what happens when a stay-at-home mom with no discernable talents and nothing to do all day is left to her own devices...she gets a sewing machine and dreams of quilts, baby blankets and all those really cool things people post on pintrest....it is also the reason why regretsy.com exists....

Remember That One Time?

I've probably written about this before, but here I go again...bear with me: exactly 5 years ago today I met a really awesome guy. We live together now. His name is Luke. He's pretty cool, I guess.

We met at the midnight premiere of 300 and his first words to me were, "Did you draw on your feet?"

Romantic, no?

(I had tattoos on my feet. They have been painfully removed. Because it did, in fact, look like I had drawn on my feet with pen.)

What I remember most about that night was that a.) the movie totally rocked; b.) Luke telling me a story about how he had to have a colonoscopy while he was in Germany and; c.) Both of us making up signs for the words 'colonoscopy' and 'Delorean' in case we ever had to play Charades and those words came up.

You can't say that isn't instant chemistry, right?!

Well, 5 years later and our sense of humor and maturity has not changed a whole lot because we're sitting here ('here' being our living room) watching Kung Pow: Enter the Fist for probably the fourth time.

Why? Because it is hilarious.

Delorean? We've got this.

Bows and Leather...I'm Sensing a Dichotomy Here...

So the thing is, I started making bows for little baby girl:
Simple enough, right? But then I got creative and thought I'd make some more:

And then I figured out how to make fabric bows, and things have just gotten out of control since then:

Some of them are awesome, some of them are prototypes, so don't judge

They know me by name at Joanne's.

Also, these suckers arrived on my doorstep yesterday...and I need someone to tell me that I am, in fact, kick-ass enough to wear them:

Yeah, Doc Marten Phinas...ordered when I was going through my Girl With The Dragon Tattoo phase...I re-read all the books, watched all the movies and decided that I, too can be a hardcore, kick ass computer hacker. You know, minus the computer hacker (although I did ask Luke if he would teach me. I got a resounding 'no' to that one).

I even bought a pleather jacket!

Then little munchkina made her debut and I got soft around the edges...what can I say?

The question is, do I rock them anyway?

Answer: Yes! These boots are why black leggings were invented!