Sleepless in Silverlake

Olive before her arrival. 

I joked that she was suffering from performance anxiety when her due date arrived 

and she chose not to make an appearance. 

For the record, the fashionably late tot was ultimately evicted from my belly based on the doc's recommendation.

I'm having trouble sleeping. I suppose this isn't the least bit surprising seeing that I'm over 29 weeks pregnant, am harboring a nasty cold that prevents me from breathing, and my "wombmate," Quinn, is in full-on disco mode at 2 in the morning. "Why you little..."

Which leads me to Amazon. To all the knocked-up mamas out there, do you own a Snoogle? I survived my first pregnancy without having to purchase this much-talked-about body pillow. Visually, it hurts my eyes, and we've got enough junk in our home as is, but I'm desperate for a good night's sleep. I've got 30 extra pounds on my frame and the added weight is taking a toll. I could use some "cuddle me comfort".

What the heck.
*Add to Cart*

I think I'll name him Thor. If he delivers on his promises, I will haul him to Maui.

I Swallowed a Beach Ball

As is typical of my FREQUENT blog posts* I shall open with an apology. An apology for being so darn absent. For those of you raising little human beings, you understand. We have to keep the munchkins alive and healthy (the baseline for motherhood), and it's not as easy as it looks. Look at what I'm dealing with:

Ahh... The beauty of potty training. In the kitchen. 

Anyhow, Olive aside (she's a time-suckage, so a photo was warranted), I have been juggling my day job. Refuge Design Build completed two home renovations in time to ring in 2014, and is now attempting to deliver three more happy homes before ankle-biter 2.0 makes her grand debut in June. Lots to look forward to. But in the meantime...

I am looking like I swallowed a beach ball. 

I'm a mere 5 months along, but am looking the way some women look at 8 or 9 months. I suppose it doesn't help that my torso is like that of a midget. Where else is baby Quinn supposed to go?** Even Olive has taken notice of her mother's rapidly expanding waistline. 

"Mama, BIG."

"BIG MAMA."

"Mama, mountain." (Pointing at my stomach.) 

In the work place, I'm a proprietor of good taste, or well, one of slightly-above-average taste. I try my best to look presentable, but baby Quinn's lil' condo is hindering my usual fashion choices. I'm She-Hulking out of my go-to shrunken leather jackets, my button-ups are pulling at the chest, and my pants... let's just stay I'll be looking into our crawlspace tonight in search of the maternity jeans I wore when incubating Olive. My jeans are getting uber-tight, and the last thing I want to be doing is running down Sunset Junction chasing a button that's sprung from my beloved Rag & Bones. My only connection to fashion as of late is how similar my belly button is to Michael Kors' nasty belly button.*** WARNING: You cannot unsee what you are about to see, so look away if you don't want to scar your eyeballs for life. 

Ay-yai-yai.

Will be posting more regularly in the coming weeks because I've been having more and more thoughts about my munchkins which I feel are worth sharing, exploring, and making fun of...

* Line should be typed out in font, SARCASTICA. 

** That's right, people. We're naming ankle-biter 2.0, "Quinn". Olive's favorite name, one which she refers to Thomas the Steam Engine by, is "Quimby." When le huz and I found out ankle-biter 2.0 would be a girl, we thought, "Why not let Olive name her future tormentor? It's only fair." So "Quinn B. Huang" it is. We've yet to figure out what that middle initial "B" is going to stand for, but are open to suggestions. 

*** I don't have an outy, but my inny (by the way, am I spelling these technical terms correctly?), but my inny is totally flipping itself inside out to become one. OMIGOSH. I'm grossing myself out.

State of Affairs

Me, 19-weeks pregnant. Yes, I'm glowing.