i'll light the fire, while you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today-ay-ay-ayyy.*

Thank you, all of you, for your sweet messages about our new house! It was so fun to share the news! We had heard a few weeks ago that the first offer on the house might not go through and were pretty hopeful, but I didn't want to say anything, you know, for fear of jinxing it. The past three weeks have been a lot of waiting and waiting and waiting and small amounts of gnashing of teeth and saying, "WHYYY? WHY IS IT TAKING SO LONG TO FIND OUTTT?" And then we found out and we were like, "Aww yeahhhh!" Actually, our reactions were pretty subdued because Ryan's aunt was staying with us and we wanted to be cool. So we high fived, and then whispered excitedly about it in our bed that night. 

We've got big plans for this little house. It's very clean and has been well-taken care of by the little old lady who lived there for 45 years. But, it's also very old-lady-looking. The bathroom has pink tile everywhere, and the kitchen is quite yellow-- a paint can in the basement told me it's exact name: banana split. Sounds delicious, but it's still getting repainted. All the updates certainly won't happen right away, but we're okay with that. We like projects.

Our closing date is still up in the air, but we are hoping to move in by early October. Which means I'm killing time by writing (and re-writing) lists. Between the baby and the house and my annual fall fashion wishes, the lists are getting out of hand. They're everywhere.

Anyway, I just wanted to say "thanks!" to you all for sharing in our excitement. I can't wait to get in there and show you around. It's gonna be fun.

OH, and the best part? Ryan thinks the baby room smells like Waffle Crisp. That lucky baby.

*We don't have a fireplace, and I call it a vase, not a vahse, but we have been singing that dern song a lot.



 Remember that cute little house with the blue shutters that I thought would never be ours?


Miracle of miracles!
I shall have a pantry and a linen closet and a washing machine!
And the baby shall have a room of his very own,
to which he says:

Oh yes he does.

ps: Ryan is indeed "Tebow-ing" in that bottom photo, if anyone was curious. THAT'S HOW EXCITING THESE TIMES ARE.


strawberry cake of my dreams

I've been craving a white cake with strawberries ever since I laid eyes on the cake seen in this post.

Oh that cake. It's been haunting me and my taste buds for months. And since the summer is almost over and strawberry season is sure to come to a close any day now, I felt it was time to make my own.

Ryan and I found some seriously beautiful strawberries at the grocery store--their sweet and sun-ripened scent filled up the whole car on the ride home. Then, while Ryan painted the old dresser we're going to use for the baby's changing table, I baked a cake in the kitchen.

I made a two layer white cake using this recipe and frosted it with whipped cream cream cheese frosting, using this recipe. I scooped out about 1 1/2 cups of frosting and added a few chopped strawberries for the middle layer. It's a refrigerator cake, which is my favorite kind. Good and dense and cold.

Now go and make one for yourself. Amen.


70% humidity

Do you see those candles that live on my dresser?

I feel like those candles.

Slowwwllyyy mellllting from the heeeeeeaaaat and humiiiddiiittyyyy. Ohhhhhhhh.

I also look like those candles when I do the dishes now. Bent over like a crippled old woman, only much sweatier.

Sometime around week 24 or 25 my doctor asked me how I was feeling. "Wonderful!" I told him, to which he responded, "Good. That feeling won't last much longer. In a few weeks you'll be back to being uncomfortable." Which I thought was slightly pessimistic for my chipper doctor. But he was right. If only I had known I had just 5 weeks left of baby belly bliss. IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN. 

Because I believe it's time to officially declare that I am in the uncomfortable stage of pregnancy.

I want you all to remember that I'm not complaining. But I'm hot. And I can't sleep. And I feel like a stuffed turkey.

But remember. I'm not complaining.

ps: better blog posts with real pictures are coming soon. my apologies.


a shower for baby boy

I could kick myself for forgetting to pack my nice camera over the weekend. All I have are iphone photos of the cutest baby shower in history.

My sweet mom and sisters threw me my first baby shower over the weekend. They had been planning and working and baking and creating for weeks. It meant so much to me when I walked into my parents' backyard on Sunday morning and saw everything they had worked so hard on. They planned a small dessert party for just family, and it was darling. A party destined for me, with striped straws and mini cheesecakes and a sunshiny day with a breeze just breezy enough to keep my makeup from melting off, which was something I worried about. The picture above is of my mom and my sisters Lizette and Liesl, with me and the bump. Aren't they wonderful? My oldest sister was at home in Nebraska that day, but she called and texted all day--we missed you Gretel! They all pitched in and bought me the Moses basket I registered for, before I registered for it. So not only are they beautiful, but they also have fantastic taste. Naturally.

Now Ryan and I are back in our tiny apartment surrounded by pastel tissue paper and cardboard boxes and packs of diapers. Two more boxes of goodies and a crib are scheduled to arrive in the mail this week. We're feeling very blessed and loved . . . and slightly overwhelmed. There's so much stuff. It's taking over.

Anyway, here's a big hug for my family from Ryan, baby boy, and me. I love you guys! XOXO.


about the house that i love that will never be mine, and feeling 28 weeks pregnant

Sometime last week Ryan and I decided we were in love with a house. A darling little two-story colonial with white siding and blue shutters. It had hardwood floors and old windows and a staircase in the living room that led up to 3 bedrooms, one that I was sure was perfect for a fresh baby boy. The front yard spread out wide and grew two big maple trees, while the backyard housed a birch tree and a clothesline and the promise of a someday garden. 

We drove past the house on Sunday afternoon and poked around a little bit. It was empty, so we pulled into the driveway and imagined it was ours. We went slowly through the back alley, discussing how we would build up the crumbling stones in the way back of the yard. Then we went home, Ryan excitedly put on his engineer pants, and quickly drew up a floor plan. He talked about where he'd put his workshop tools, while I pondered over what I'd do to make the pink tile in the bathroom work.

On Monday night we walked through the house twice with our realtor. She informed us that it already had an offer on it, but we could still have a chance. 

Today we found out that the offer was accepted, that the sweet blue-shuttered house will not be ours, that some other lucky family will get to enjoy the cozy living room and the big maple trees. 

Tonight we plan on saying a few choice swear words, loudly and dramatically, and then eating our feelings. (Well, that's my plan. Ryan will probably just stew quietly, as that is how he seems to manage disappointment.)

The business of house hunting is neither for the faint of heart, nor for the pregnant and emotionally unstable.

Speaking of pregnancy.

When I found out about this baby on that wonderful day in February, I made a promise to myself that I would never complain about the pregnancy. I'm so thankful for this sweet baby boy, that he's alive and healthy and still here with me-- I don't want to ever come across as though I'm not the happiest woman in the world about it all. So I watch what I say and how I say it. And, despite approximately 95 daily trips to the bathroom, being at least 20 degrees hotter than anyone else in any room, and being kept awake at night by flailing baby limbs (I blame you, Michael Phelps!) I think I've done a pretty good job of embracing my discomforts instead of complaining about them.

That being said, please allow me to ask this question: How is one supposed to eat 300 extra calories a day without feeling like Violet Beauregarde after every meal? Because each and every time I eat, I need to sit down and say "OOOoofffff!" which must be so charming to my darling husband, don't you think? There's just no room in there for a growing person AND extra food. I don't know what to do about it.

I mean, this baby's only gonna get bigger.
Your advice is welcome.