Fluffy Ramblings and a Bump

15 April 2015

I started my last draft with a plan to go full fluff, but then things got heavy. I cried while I wrote it. I think posts no longer qualify as fluff once someone starts crying.

So I paused it. Went on a date with Ben & Jerry's, and now I'm back.


I've been combing the archives of this little lady recently. She's like the cutest ever, and she's about to have her first baby, and she's just so delightfully stalk-able, so go forth.


I've been experimenting with DIY shampoo again. (Ah. This life. Riveting!) It's actually a terrible time to experiment because during pregnancy my hair and scalp get super dry, so it's hard to tell what's causing what, but I'm on a castille soap/honey kick right now, and I'm moderately pleased with it.

I've also finally made some epsom salt spray - I used this recipe  - and don't you know I went the chamomile/lemon route because I'm always Hail Marying for highlights. Results: not in. My spray bottle kept getting clogged and leaking and the concoction would run down my arms, and I don't wash my hair regularly, so I can't experiment very easily with how much to use. Long story short: I'm basically Mrs. Paul Mitchell.

I'll probably just throw in the beach towel and buy some, but not before it sits in my Amazon cart for a couple weeks and I go through several cycles of buyer's guilt before I've even purchased it.

We all have our neuroses I suppose.


You want to know a fluffy secret I don't think I've ever shared? You want to talk more exemplary hygiene?

I don't shave my legs. Except for the very rare occasion, I haven't shaved in the last five years.

And this isn't like a hippy, crunchy thing. I'm not some kind of hairy feminist.

I got some waxing done when I was a blushing bride and went on a razor-free honeymoon, and after six weeks of hairless underarms, I was like: I'm never shaving again. So now I mostly epilate. Yes. It hurts. An Italian friend first introduced me to epilating. At about eight hairs in, I swore I'd never do it again. But once I'd had a couple waxes, it didn't hurt near as much, and now that I'm a few years in, I don't even flinch. And then I'm golden and hair-free for 6-8 weeks. Are there any other epiladies out there?


I'm trying to cut back on the amount of meat we eat. Since I've been sick with Baby 3, our food budget has been off the hook. I haven't been cooking ($$) and Jacob's been doing all the grocery shopping ($$$). So we're trying to venture back into the wide world of legumes, but as I make this valiant effort, I'm noticing that all my bean recipes are very wintery. So I'd love any recommendations you could send my way!


Lucy June talks a lot about my parents' animals. Their cat, Izzy, who scratched her (Izzy! ouch! Izzy! Hurting!) and also their dog, Beau. When we were at their house last, my parents tried to teach her how to give the dog commands, so now she randomly walks around our house lisping: "Shit, Beau! Shit! Shit, Beau!"

I know it won't last long. Good things never do.


And as titularly promised, here we are pushing 19 weeks.
On Friday we head to Boston, to watch my dad run the marathon. I'm so proud of him and excited to see ducklings and haunt lots of quaint coffee shops.

And that's all for now.

Landscaping is for the Bees: Before and After

07 April 2015

**This post is sponsored. But please don't run away!! It's still me! Kate! Just with (very small) dollar signs for eyes and some lovely new plants from Monrovia.**

So you remember that we bought a house a while back.  A MAJOR fixer upper, and I've stopped talking about it because we stopped working on it right about the time Jacob's winter crazy season started. While we haven't 100% finished a single room, most of the house is mostly done. Except we've done virtually nothing to the exterior.

Friday found us traipsing to Lowes so I could find some plants for the little bit of landscaping in the front yard. 
I'm not good at gardening, but like making traditional sourdough bread, it's not something I'm willing to give up on yet for all its attendant heartache. Baby #3 ruthlessly threw down the gauntlet when it came to any real garden aspirations for 2015, so I've decided to satisfy myself with a little landscaping. Behold my canvas:
The front of the house is not pretty, and life's still too busy to paint it and replace the windows, but I thought maybe some flowers would make it look like somebody loved it because this mound of old stump plus weird grasses was positively haunting.

After our wisteria bloomed in the backyard and brought with it bells and bells of purple blossoms: I knew I needed color. With Monrovia's help, we scored some yellow lantana. Growing up, I loved lantana. In the hottest part of the summer, it would still be blooming. My grandmother insisted that it was a weed, but I always felt kinda sorry for weeds. Monrovia tells me it is not a weed, that it's a match for Houston summers, and that the butterflies love it.

The great planting effort went as you might expect. The kiddos "helped."  
We all looked very cute. 
 Even cuter.
Jake eventually got bored and adopted a snail he named "A-Snailia," and Lucy June tried to eat fertilizer. 

In the end we landed here. It's definitely suffering from some "I just got planted" syndrome - landscaping kinda goes through it's own little funky ugly newborn stage, huh? - but I think it says "someone loves me and her name is Kate and so long as she remembers to water me and keeps her son from overwatering me, things will turn out just fine."
We'll eventually plant some flowers in the empty spot and fill the bowl with a big hunk of Rosemary.

[Unrelated aside and poll: Jacob and I agree - to an unprecedented level of agreeing on anything ever - that Rosemary is one of the loveliest names. But she will inevitably get shortened to Rose - also fine - except for the whole...Rose Rhodes thing. That is my question: Rose Rhodes. Would you do it??]

When we got back from our Easter travels, I noticed that one of the plants I didn't rip out of the landscaping because it looked intentional bloomed and turns out it was a lily. So Happy Easter to you all from my gardening-high.

Thank you again to Monrovia for sponsoring this post and encouraging me to spruce up the yard. Be sure to visit them and learn all about how to keep the bees and butterflies happy in your neck of the woods!

Some Jake Talk

01 April 2015

Today I'm giving you a break from nauseatalk and instead we're gonna talk Jake.

Jake is a pretty awesome kid; he's also very challenging. His favorite games to play with people all involve things like roaring in people's faces and sitting on people's heads, so you can imagine how smoothly life goes now that he has a prissy sister hanging around all the time. They do like interacting with each other, but I'm nervous Lucy June is going to develop a major victim complex because she's pretty much always a victim.

Except she DID get mad and pull his ear today. I burst out laughing.
The other day I couldn't find Lucy June for a terrifying 45 seconds, but it turns out Jake had locked her in his closet while he went to the bathroom so she would still play with him when he got back. So sweet. So wrong. So Jake.

As we park the car for a playdate at a friend's house:
Jake: (takes a deep breath in) Dis time, I'm NOT gonna hit Thomas in the head with a hammer. 


Jake is spastically dancing in the hardware store, and I'm trying to practice some enlightened parenting and bring some self-awareness to his behavior.
Me: Jake, do you see anyone running crazy in Lowes?
Jake: Yes! Me!


Upon my asking what happened to one of the wise men in his play nativity set.
Jake: Umm. I think he turned into a cow.  


At the end of nightly prayers:
Jake: ...And God bless Uncle John and Uncle Michael and God bless Grandpa Keith and God bless taxi vans. (pauses for a couple seconds) I LOVE taxi vans.


After he'd been working in his preschool book:
Jake: I made an R like in Bunny. And a Q like in Cucumber.


After having drawn only one ladybug in his workbook, when he was supposed to have drawn five.
Me: Where are your other ladybugs?
Jake: (shaking his head. clicking his tongue.) They died.


Gosh. If I don't love him to the moon.
And he loves me back.
Or something...

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