Change Is Good.

When I was younger and I wore jeans, I tugged out them constantly, always pulling them up so my thong wouldn't show. This picture is from a sorority/fraternity mixer thing and you can see that my oh so trendy low rise jeans are falling down. I have no words for the tube top. I think, I hope, this was some kind of theme party. I have no idea what that theme would be, sparkly maybe? I'm just hoping I didn't just walk around in public like that. Please note, I am 21 in this picture and cannot be held accountable for my wardrobe choices.



Now, when I wear jeans, I am constantly pulling my shirt down to make sure my belly panel isn't showing. Oh how the times are a changing. This is me at 18 weeks and having just eaten the Pioneer Woman's lasagna. Which is amazing, seriously, you need to make this recipe.



P.S. I have thrown out the sparkly, rainbow tube top as I am now a respectable lawyer and mother-to-be. And there is no way in hell that thing would fit me today.

A Real Onesie

Today my friend Lexe gave me this adorable onesie for Baby Brady. It's just so darn cute and little. This whole thing is starting to feel real, like really real. Like, in five months there will be a little baby, my baby, wearing this onesie. Crazy.

The Grilled Cheese Wins Again

Today it poured in sunny Southern California. I'm not talking about the usual light drizzle that sends Southern Californians into a tizzy, this was legitimate, unrelenting rain with wind and everything.

Brady and I actually had the day off together due to Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday. We rarely have the day off together so it was a nice treat to stay home together in our pajamas and work from home. Days off don't really exist for lawyers because you still need to bill and stuff still needs to get done, but it was nice to be home together. At one point in the day the poor dogs needed to go out and do their thing. We couldn't let them out back because our very small backyard had turned into a lake. So I told Brady if he would take them on a little walk to go potty, I would make him a grilled cheese sandwich. He accepted. And that's when the horror began.

I thought I had conquered the art of making a grilled cheese sandwich. In reality, I got cocky. I pulled out my fancy mandoline slicer from crate and barrel. I have used this before to get really nice, thin slices of cheese so it melts perfectly. I now hate this contraption. So I'm standing there in the kitchen, slicing my cheese, thinking how perfect my sandwich is going to be and how Brady is such a sucker for taking the dogs out in the rain while all I have to do is make a little sandwich.

I'm holding the stupid slicer in one hand, pushing down on the cheese with the other, I push down the cheese all the way to slice it and, yep, in the process slice open my finger. In fact, I took out a giant chunk of skin from the top of my right middle finger. It started gushing blood. I could barely get a paper towel off the roll before I started dripping blood all over the kitchen.

I yelled for Brady who had since returned from his walk. I started to feel dizzy and faint. I was convince I was losing buckets of blood. Brady helped me fashion a band aid around my gaping wound. After a few hours and many soaked band aids, Brady said he was taking over and that I needed to get my finger to stop bleeding. He made me hold my finger under running cold water which hurt like a bitch. Pardon my french but this really freaking hurt. I screamed and whined so much that poor Frank was all upset and I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call the cops. I started feeling dizzy again and had to sit down. Now Brady made me hold my hand above my head with ice and pressure. I continued to scream and whine that it hurt. Every time I saw the paper towel soaked with blood I felt queasy and had to look away.

It's been hours since I cut my finger and it is still bleeding, although it is bleeding a lot less. This has got to be one of the most painful things I have ever gone through. In the midst of my panicking about my finger and whining to Brady, I thought "how in the hell am I ever going to handle childbirth!?!" That epidural better be as good as people say it is!

Joke's On Me

This past Saturday, Brady and I went to our local Improv to see Broken Lizard. For those of you who don't know, Broken Lizard is the comedy troupe behind one of my favorite movies of all time, Super Troopers.



Super Troopers is the eptiome of stupid, college-esque, humor. I love it. I've seen it a million times, I can recite all the lines, and still laugh at it. Sometimes Steph and I text each other lines from the movie and I die laughing in my office while people look at me like I'm crazy. The Improv show was great, Broken Lizard came out in character as the Super Troopers, there was an on-stage drinking contest, and lots of off-color jokes.

The last time I was at this particular Improv I was with Brady and my parents. For Christmas a few years ago I had the great idea of getting my parents Improv tickets. So I bought four tickets to Bobby Slayton, the Pitbull of Comedy. I thought it sounded fun. Brady, my parents, and me go to the show and sit down. I make sure we were not sitting too close to the stage because, hey, we were with my parents and I didn't want to get picked on. At this point, Brady and I have been living in sin for few months and my parents are still royally upset about this. Bobby Slayton takes the stage and every other word out of his mouth is the f-bomb. He's talking about sex, cheating, "self-love," porn, and even more porn. I am sitting there in absolute shock. I don't know what I was thinking, I was so embarrased to be listening to some guy talk about masturbation and porn while sitting across from my parents. Brady is cracking up. My mother is laughing so hard I think she is going to have a fit and my dad is just sitting there like a block of stone. I am mortified. I was so afraid my dad was going to yell at me for such an inappropriate present. I was afraid he was going to think Brady was morally depraved for laughing at all the inappropriate jokes. I was afraid of what he was going to think when he realized I was stifling laughter at a joke about watching porn. I vowed to never take my parents to the Improv again.

I walked out of the theater that night very nervous. I was anxious to hear my parents reaction. And they loved it! My mom and dad went on and on about how funny the comedian was, how much fun they had with us, and they wanted to do it again. Brady assured we would definitely do it again. I just thought to myself, no way, no way was I ever going to sit across a table from my parents while some guy yelled about porn and masturbation. Call me a prude but I would like to avoid that level of awkwardness at all costs.

Cravings

A lot of people have asked me if I have had any weird pregnancy cravings. Do I want pickles and ice cream? Do I make my husband run out in the middle of the night to the store for some random craving? I thought I wasn't really craving anything. Mainly I've just been hungry, like really hungry. Like I'm going to be ginormous by the end of this pregnancy if I keep feeding my never ending hunger.

But I realized I was having two major cravings.

The first is hot dogs. I've always liked hot dogs so this is not that surprising; but I rarely eat them because, well they are horrible for you and who know what's in them. But now, I'm averaging a hot dog a week. I love them. I obsess about them. I have to have them. I know they give me wicked heartburn and I don't even care. I get my hot dog and my tums and I'm a happy lady.



My second craving? Dancing. Yep, dancing. I want to go dancing sooooo bad. I love to dance. DJs, live bands, karaoke, show tunes, I don't care. If it has a beat I'll groove to it.

Here I am dancing at Pechanga Casino after Jader's wedding. I may look like a fool but I look happy.





The only problem is that it's kinda inappropriate for a big ol' pregnant lady to go shaking her groove thang at the local club. Plus, Brady isn't really the clubbing type. I also do not want to go to a club and be forced to watch all the little 21 year olds try to find something to go home with. Or maybe I do, that might be funny. So no going to a club to dance for me. I am going to a wedding in March, hopefully I'll be able to squeeze in a little dance there. In the meantime, I'm going to get a hot dog.

Comforting

Is there any meal more comforting than grilled cheese and tomato soup? I don't think so. And yes, I dip my grilled cheese sandwiches in ketchup, it's amazing.



This meal was one of my favorites growing up and remains a favorite today. When I was in college I couldn't make a grilled cheese sandwich. My roommate Erin used to make them for me. When I lived with Annalise during law school, I still couldn't make one. So I would microwave bread and cheese and dip it in ketchup. Then Annalise and I would drink a bottle of wine. Then we would run out of wine and walk across to the street to the liquor store in our pajamas for more wine. Then we would yell at the t.v. And then we would be in bed by midnight because if you go to bed by midnight you won't be hungover. Then we would text each other all throughout the day about how much we love diet coke, how bad our headaches were, and who was picking up the wine on the way home.

I'm very proud to report that I now can make a real grilled cheese sandwich all by myself. Brady actually taught me. And I no longer guzzle wine at night. I do still yell at the t.v. though, some things never change.