I want my own TLC show

These “addiction” shows are going to be the end of me, I just know it. It seems like there’s a different one on every night, showcasing the crazy behaviors of seemingly normal people and I just can’t stop watching them! The greatest thing about these laundry soap-eating, coupon-clipping, cat-obsessed people is that they are actually making me feel REALLY normal. This is a positive thing, feeling normal, especially during this incredibly hormonal, unstable, HULK SMASH stage in my life.

If I was to try out for My Strange Addiction, I’m not sure¬†which of my nutty pregnancy-related obsessions would win me a 30 minute spot on the show, but undoubtedly one of them would. The episode might go a little something like this:

Dramatic intro music plays and I appear on your screen, wedged in the comfy corner of my couch where I usually get stuck and need actual assistance getting pulled out. A scraggly mass of hair is gathered in a messy bun on top of my head, dark circles pool beneath my eyes, and a bowl of ice cream sits on my round belly. I’m watching What Not to Wear, which is ironic because I’m wearing sweatpants, mismatched socks and no bra.

The addict speaks up:

My name is Morgan and I’m addicted to…

…lifting up my shirt and checking on the state of my belly button. Is it still an innie? WILL IT MAKE UP IT’S FLIPPING MIND ALREADY?

…Googling “ways to induce labor”, followed by spending the day eating fresh pineapple, walking 48 miles and doing jumping jacks. Then laying awake in bed for 5 hours, convinced “the contractions are getting stronger!” while Justin mumbles “mmhmm, that’s nice, honey” and falls back to sleep. Meanwhile, I contemplate doing something especially active, such as punching him in the back of the head in order to bring on more contractions. But in the end, meh, it’s 2am and I need sleep.

…not shaving my legs. I repeat, NOT shaving them. I can’t reach them without feeling like I’m busting a rib so I just don’t even try. Feel free to call me Sasquatch.

…eating hot cheetos with mustard. I know. I’d like to blame the pregnancy for this one, but a friend in high school told me to try it and I’ve never looked back. I’m healthy.

Okay, so maybe I could give some of these addiction show people a run for their money, but isn’t that to be expected at the end of a pregnancy? Nine months of hormones. Nine months of gaining weight. Nine months of WAITING.

I’m normal. I’m like, totally normal.

Baby #2 – Thirty Eight Weeks

I had to move locations of the bathroom photo shoots to MY ghetto apartment bathroom this week. At least the crazy nesting I’ve been doing has kept it pretty spotless!

Okay yeah, so nesting. Cleaning. Organizing. Whatever you want to call it… I haz it. I’ve done so much sweeping and dusting and scrubbing of walls the past few weeks that I would honestly have no problem licking pretty much any given surface in my home. I won’t, because eww, OBVIOUSLY, but you get what I’m saying.

Things are pretty much ready for this little guy and I have this painful feeling in my uterus that he could be making his grand appearance pretty soon.  :D :D :D

Boy Talk

A few months ago, it was no secret how terrified I was of having a boy. It’s not just about the whole little wiener issue… though after some new mom friends of mine have shed light on that particular subject, I can’t exactly say the fears have let up at all. There’s going to be a whole lot of pee in my future and most of that pee is probably going to go straight in my hair, but I digress.

I was a little worried that I wouldn’t know how to entertain a boy. Toss some rocks in front of him and be all, “Have fun, buddy!” while me and Maddie paint our toenails? No. What games do they like to play that don’t involve tackling mom to the ground? Are they all as ridiculously stinky as my little brother was? Will Jack find it fun to bring live bugs and toads into his room? Will said bugs escape and come into my bed at night and make nests in my hair? And what exactly is considered cool for little boys to wear? Do they even care about that kind of stuff?

I HAVE NO FLIPPING CLUE.

The point is, I’m in the dark about most of these things, but I’ve been reassured over and over that I’ll be fine and will figure out everything as it comes along. I think that’s true.

And after receiving some pretty adorable gifts from my sweet friends, I can lay to rest any doubts I had about cute boy things existing in the world. After having a fancy little froo-froo girl for two years, glancing into any boy clothes/toys/shoes section just gave me hives. THERE’S NOTHING CUTE. THERE’S NO PINK. WHAT DO I DOOOOOOO!?

Well apparently, this is what I do:

Socks that look like shoes exist for boys. They’re adorable. And they’re not pink. (Thank you Sally!)

You can also find uses for ribbon that don’t involve hair bows. Sweet blankets. (Thank you, Julie!)

Do you have a little boy that barfs up all over you? I have this strong feeling I will. At least I can clean it up with the most freaking adorable burp cloths in all of humanity. (Thank you Shea!)

Getting excited.

Baby #2 – Thirty Five Weeks

I’m 35 weeks pregnant and my due date is getting kind of close…

And umm… does anyone notice how FREAKING HUGE I am all of a sudden? The belly is full-on bullet status. It seriously terrifies me to think of how big I’m going to be in 5 more weeks.

Bare pregnant bellies are just flipping weird, by the way. This is only the second time I’ve ever taken a picture of it with my shirt up because… well, just look at it! That mole was not that far away from my belly button a few months ago. And yes, I strategically posed my body away from the camera so you can’t actually SEE my belly button. That thing is good material for a Twilight Zone episode, right there. It’s hovering in a disturbing place between Innie and Outie and I just want it to make up it’s mind already.

Sooo, are you fully grossed out yet? :)

Things I accomplished this weekend that I will remember when 2:00pm hits and I feel guilty for wanting to do nothing but lay in bed and watch What Not To Wear reruns

I’m trying this new thing today called Not Going Nuts. It’s all about not going nuts. Quite the concept, right?

No but really, I’m on the brink of a nesting-related meltdown. I am sitting at work right now, unable to concentrate on anything because of the list of things I have to do RIGHTTHISSECOND or I may in fact, die.

(Don’t question me on this… I’ve dropped dead at least 30 times in my life due to an ailment I like to refer to as Dramatics. It’s very real.)

I have accumulated so much makeup/hair/beauty-related junk under my bathroom sinks that I can’t think of doing anything but going through it all, tossing the old stuff and neatly organizing my nail polishes by color in a nice little basket. Or quite possibly lining them all up on a several little shelves on the wall like they do in the nail salon.

Actuallyyyyyy… that’s not that bad of an idea—NO, MORGAN! Focus.

Or how about working on those 4 tutorials I have in mind for this blog? Like the yarn wreath I promised I’d do like, a year ago? Or more like a month ago, but whatever? I’ll get to it, I promise.

This weekend I was super productive and I’m trying to keep that in mind right now. I am only one woman after all. I should be proud I accomplished the following in my beached whale-like state:

  • Washed/folded/put away 4 loads of laundry, including teeny tiny baby boy clothes (eeee!)
  • Went to dinner with friends
  • Organized kids’ room & closet
  • Made flag pennant to hang in kid’s room
  • Decorated kids’ room with new wall art
  • Made a cute blanket for Jack
  • Made some hair clips for a friend’s baby girl
  • Attended a wedding
  • Went grocery shopping
  • Scrubbed down kitchen
  • Dusted/vacuumed entire apartment
  • Painted two thrifted frames, hung them up in our bedroom
  • Organized Maddie’s 5 billion books
  • Organized Maddie’s 5 billion shoes
  • Lost 2lbs (Not kidding. There was no time for nacho consumption this weekend.)

I’m a machine… but an extremely exhausted machine.

I do have a little over a month left until the baby is supposed to arrive. There’s time to organize my nail polishes and you know what? If it doesn’t get done before Jack is born, oh well! OR I’ll just do it the day we come home from the hospital. I’ll need that extra space under the counters to store all my mesh-granny-panty-post-partum-yucky-supplies anyway. Priorities.

(HOLY CRAP. Just realized I need to make a list and pack the hospital bag. I don’t even remember what I’m supposed to bring. Something to do with a coming home outfit and nipple ointment. Haven’t I done this before?)

…This isn’t working.