Scraps

"Bliss only finds those with open arms."

If that's the case, Olive's odds for finding bliss are pretty darn good.

(Source of quote unknown. I found it via Pinterest)

The distance between my under-boob and top-of-crotch is a short one. So babies I incubate have nowhere to grow and stretch but outwards. As you can imagine, I am looking mighty deformed as of late. I am a pinata on legs, sporting a belly button that couldn't possibly protrude further. I actually have nightmares that my belly button knot would unravel itself and all my innards (amniotic fluids and Baby Quinn included) would gush out of the opening. Too graphic? Okay. Sometimes I overshare.

Manatee bod aside, all is well. I'm feeling as good as I can feel for a 26 week pregnant mama. Ordered a pair of ridiculous Chloe boots I've been eyeing since last summer's trip to London and made a trip to Destination Maternity after work only to haul home a dress and stretchy denim. Figure having new shoes and clothes will make me feel a sliver more attractive than I did last weekend. I had helped throw a baby shower for a friend and ended up wearing my Sunday best - tapered sweat pants. Quite frankly, they were all that I could find that (1) were clean, and (2) fit. Since I'm no supermodel, the sweats actually looked like sweats, and well, let's just say I spent a good deal of time seated in hopes of hiding the business below my massive waistline.

It helps to keep busy during the pregnancy countdown. Appeasing pregnancy snack attacks* and work aside, I've been on pee-pee watch. Olive is two years and two months to date, and we've been potty-training. She's been really good about alerting this old Ma about her need to potty, but there are the occasional "uh-oh"s. Which leads me to share the following piece of valuable info I learned from the almighty Internet with fellow brave Mamas experiencing accidents:

How to Remove Urine Stains from Upholstery

Mix white vinegar + water. Dab stain.

Mix baking powder + water. Dab stain.

Vacuum the stain.

Wait for the stain to dry. Pray while doing so.

VOILA!

Miss Uh-Oh looking like she's just Uh-Oh'd and Le Huz

* Avocado toast. Haagen Daz Peanut Butter Pie ice cream. Chicken Pad Thai. Um, yes, I plan to work out like a mad person two months after delivering Baby Quinn.

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.