round two | oof + 32 weeks


for my birthday, joe took me to brunch at sweet chick in the city. i ate my weight in fried chicken and followed it with a nutella and cream cheese sticky bun. afterwards, we went to MoMA and laughed our way through the museum like a couple of immature teenagers. i think in a past life i used to be an art person. but now? i just notice all of the boobs and tend to wonder how some things even qualify as art.

mind you, i think that every scribble my toddler makes is genius. so, take my opinion with a grain of salt.

anyway. the two pieces that stuck out to me were these:
the top installation (or is it a sculpture?) reminded me of a pig snout, which, i found appropriate and quite applicable because i snort and grunt a lot at this point in pregnancy and, well, there's the obvious: i eat a lot. it could actually very well be intended to look like an electrical socket but, since art is subjective (so they say), i'm going with pig snout. tomato, tomahhhto.

the bottom painting is much more literal. it perfectly sums up how i feel at thirty-two weeks pregnant. oof. most days i feel like i've been hit by a freight train i see coming from a mile away yet i can't avoid it. my hips ache and shoot pain down my legs, my lower back feels broken or that it needs to be broken to relieve the pressure, my boobs are just obscene, i have insane heartburn in the evenings if i eat anything larger than the size of a fucking crumb or anything more acidic than milk, and i'm convinced that edie is trying to claw and head-butt her way out of my womb. i can't even talk about the belching and other exiting of bodily gas. putting on shoes which require tying of laces has quickly become comical and nearly impossible.

(ps. birkenstocks are in my near future.)

and sleep? just fuhgettaboutit. as a result of the insomnia and sudden bouts of narcolepsy throughout the day, i cry a lot. cute puppy? tears. i'm hungry? sob. marlo throws a tantrum? cry again. realize how insane you're becoming? cue the waterworks. i've succumbed to being a one-woman hormonal, sleep-deprived circus with a very quick fuse and i can only hope that it gets better but i've accepted that it probably won't for the foreseeable future.

but on the bright side, mo is becoming increasingly ecstatic about becoming a big sister. almost every day we have a conversation about when edie will be here. (just so you know, "i have no idea" rates as generally unacceptable as an answer for a toddler. i can't even get into the conversation about WHY i have no idea when she'll be here. that was mind numbing.) however, with her increasing excitement surrounding edie, she's become equally protective of me and weary of edie's intentions.

just last night, edie gave me a swift kick to the ribs which immediately doubled me over in pain and resulted in a few deep breaths and grunts. mo marched right over and thumped my stomach to seemingly grab edie's attention all while shaking her finger and scolding, "don't hurt my mama, baby edie cooper! dasss not nice! you better not hurt me when you's born!" siblings, man...

thirty-two weeks, kiddo. fifty-six or so more days until i meet this little being. then again, it could also be something like twenty-one or twenty-eight or thirty-five more days because, hey, why not keep it interesting to compete with how much physical fun i'm having.


two brooklyn babes and a bump take the florida beach


oh, florida... 

man, were you good to me. and you were especially good to my girl. 

i can't even begin to really describe how badly this trip was needed- and not just for the sunshine, either, although that definitely didn't hurt matters. (a little glow looks good on everyone, right?) 

we needed this trip because marlo and i were starting to feel off and, as the days have passed, we've felt less and less like a team and spent most of our time battling each other over the simplest everyday tasks. it's utterly exhausting and i'd be lying through my teeth if i said that it hasn't left me in an embarrassing amount of tears as of late. 

i know a lot of the struggle is bound to happen because she's an impressively strong-willed little girl who has a mind of her own, who insists on doing everything on her own terms and won't take anyones' word for anything- particularly mine. but what bothered me was that the battling was all we were doing. it felt stifling and i worried that neither of us were actually enjoying each other at all. 

and, quite simply, that just isn't okay with me. 

and, so, we escaped. 

we flew south like the birds to spend a few days with our friends, emily and lily, in their sweet little house with the ridiculous amount of natural light and an ample supply of princess dresses and strong coffee. we had only two items on the agenda: 1) get back to feeling like a team and, 2) have fun.

and that's exactly what we did. 
ps. i'm horrible about taking photos on vacation. some people constantly have a camera strapped to their hands but i'm the opposite. i simply forget. and also, my kid is completely anti-cameras lately. she sees one and she runs so i respect it and, you know, try to only capture moments when she is blissfully unaware that i'm doing so. sneaky, sneaky. it also helps to have friends who enjoy playing your personal paparazzi because they get it. 

and, of course, thank you, emily and lily, for hosting us. we miss you girls already. 

in my closet | seasonal shopping


ever since i became a mom, i've tried to subscribe to the idea of seasonal shopping. i do this for a few reasons: 

1) i tend to buy more thoughtfully when i plan out my purchases in advance at the beginning of the season. 2) i'm forced to take a seasonal inventory of things that i already have, things that need alterations or a deep cleaning (like shoes, sweaters, jackets, etc.) and things that need to be donated.  3) it's much easier to budget. mind you, i will still buy a random shirt or accessory here or there but this conscious consumerism helps me to be more mindful of my purchases. and lastly) i rarely regret purchases if they're planned. impulse shopping always ends badly. this season's plan of attack involves a whole lot of comfort, easy access to my boobs, and materials that hold up well to wear and tear. 

also, i care so very little these days about being sartorially fancy. i truly don't have time to fuss about what i wear. i used to love fussing and obsessing over my wardrobe. in fact, i did it for a living. i still like to look good and put my best face forward but i just don't have the time to try new trends or live adventurously through the latest fashion. plus, i find it all kind of frivolous when i'm spending so much money a month on diapers and mo being in school. priorities. le sigh. luckily, though, i'm happily a jeans-and-t-shirt-kind-of-girl so shopping has become no-nonsense and to the point. i think any mom can appreciate that. 

amiright? or amiright? 

sandals i just purchased these to wear in florida next week since my tan leather sandals were ruined last year and they are extremely comfortable. i will be wearing them with everything. EVERYTHING, i tell you.

overalls i used to despise the resurgence of overalls that happened last year but they've come to actually grow on me. i won't cross over to the dark side completely and start wearing birkenstocks and patchouli or anything but i'll be nursing a newborn all spring, summer, and well into the fall so i'm going for it all in the name of easy access to my boobs. long live the 90's!

striped tee because the only point of stripes is their ability to distract the eye from the countless breastmilk stains that will be loitering around on my shirt and the like.

ribbed nude tank because it's cotton, easily washable, and leaking breastmilk will blend in nicely. will probably have in black, charcoal, and grey, too. because if it works, why mess with it?

fannypack so, don't even start with me about the fannypack. my biggest anxiety about having two kids is how to be hands free for mo while still holding a newborn and running errands around the city. enter: the fannypack. so. sue. me.

leather back pack again, i need to be handsfree and i refuse to have an actual baby bag. yuck. i've also been looking for a black leather backpack for ages that doesn't come off as butch. this is the solution.

distressed black skinnies because i wear a lot of black and none of my old jeans will fit for a while. justification at its' finest.

crop tee easy access for edie cooper to the girls. grey is the only one i pictured here but i'll most likely own this shirt in every color.

original aviators because classic is always the best route. also, joe got me these for christmas with my rx lenses in them. let me tell you, it'll be nice to be able to see while outside for a change.

what's missing? lipstick. why it's missing? because i'll be to busy smothering a baby in umpteen kisses and i'm sure she wouldn't appreciate her teeny noggin being covered in red smooches. maternal sacrifices, you guys.

in which i'm given the best birthday present ever


 this morning, i was sent this video from my julie bean. she somehow got ahold of our favorite youtube personality who is a complete riot and had her make me a video for my birthday in honor of the little fadel spawn currently invading my incubation vessel. that's code for uterus.

oh, the miracle of life.

it is quite possibly the best birthday present ever. it had me laughing the silent kind of old man laugh that is reserved for very few things so brace yourself because it is quite amazing.

and for the record, a true friend is the kind of friend who understands your sick sense of humor and takes one of the most trying periods of your lives and makes you laugh your ass off at it like it ain't no thang.

thank you, julie. i love you and i have no idea how i'll ever top it. most likely, i won't.

**oh, and it's only decent of me to warn you that you shouldn't watch this video if you are offended easily by cursing or by the reality of pregnancy. nuclear epic farts anyone? because there is a lot of cursing in it but it's the necessary kind of foulness in order to achieve the full affect.

hash tag pregnant as fuck. 

round two | twenty-nine weeks


seventy-seven more days.
edie cooper,

i'm convinced that you have seventeen arms and legs even though your last ultrasound confirmed that you, in fact, only have four limbs. i feel you EVERYWHERE: up in the sides of my ribs while also stabbing tickling both of my hip bones, your butt (or is it your head) sticking out into my belly button, and your head (or is it your butt) firmly planted in my sternum. you must have been a starfish in a past life.

my bladder is your personal trampoline, which i'm not particularly fond of. peeing yourself in public is generally frowned upon so if you simply stop, i'd greatly appreciate it. it's only a matter of time until my lungs become your very own punching bag. i can't wait! (insert sarcasm.)

you currently only want to eat sandwiches and coconut curry with sticky rice which, you know, is fine by me. you still aren't a huge fan of sugary treats which is a big damn shame. you're starting to also not care for the taste of coffee but i force feed it to you anyway because, quite simply, i need all the coffee. if you have a problem with it, please take it up with your sister who insists on waking up before the ass crack of dawn.

and i will refrain from discussing the gas. at this point, it's just comical. i wish i cared enough to be embarrassed but modesty goes right out the window when pregnant along with common decency and concern for the person standing behind me in the market check out line. when worse comes to worse, i just blame it on your big sister. she's my scapegoat.

marlo is already certifiably obsessed with you, by the way. she keeps asking if you can sleep with her at night and, to be honest, if she had lactating nipples, i'd seriously consider it. but i think i'll hoard all of the nighttime cuddles for myself and your dad for a few months or... i don't know... forever if that's what you want.

ps. your sister wasn't a fan of cuddling. insane right? she was all "hey, i'm miss independent! so nice to meet you! i'm only eight weeks old but i need my space so screw you and your co-sleeping." i hated it. you better be completely codependent.

we're closer to the end than we are the beginning of this whole pregnancy thing, my little edie bun. i'm taking your sister to florida in eleven days for a little girls trip before you're born and turn her world upside down so if you could be good to me until we get back, that'd be fantastic.

we can't wait to meet you, baby.


want need wear read| a birthday list


my birthday is in a few weeks. twenty-eight. 28.

whoopdie doo.

it's not too important of a birthday as far as monumental ages go. it's no twenty-one and it's definitely no thirty. thank goodness on both accounts.

and while i'm probably far too old to be making a birthday list of items that i'll most likely just end up purchasing for myself (joe and i aren't big on gift giving to each other), i figure twenty-eights' lackluster is the perfect excuse (along with the fact that i'm going to squeeze a human out of my vajayjay this year) to splurge and buy myself a couple of aesthetically pleasing treats.
le creuset signature braiser | so, here's the deal. these pans are expensive. like, hella expensive. however, they last a lifetime. and that isn't an exaggeration. also, i cook a lot. cost per use and all of that, yada, yada, yada. personally, i would rather invest in something that will literally last me FOREVER then buy some weird chemical coated piece of cookware that i'll have to replace every five or ten years. i have the larger dutch oven and i use it at least four or five times a week. we're also badly in need of a new every day pan so we can throw a few crappy hand-me-down pieces out. i think i've justified myself enough for my own liking.

fp 'alana' robe | this gift is based solely on practicality. i'll be nursing a baby constantly in the next few months and little edie bun will legitimately need easy access to my boobs. easy access should, at the very least, be lovely. well, as lovely as the sight of me constantly in a robe can be, of course. poor joe.

joie 'dalton' booties | because fairly impractical shoes are the ultimate luxury. amiright? or amiright? i also have a coupon. so.

the little paris kitchen by rachel khoo | i watch her show on the cooking channel and i'm only slightly obsessed with her. also, i collect cookbooks even though i have no intention of ever cooking from them. inspiration, if you will.

dinner with mo


me: mo, come on honey, it's time for dinner.

mo: okay, honey! i so excited.

me: we're having some of your favorites...

(mo climbs up and sits down in her booster as we scoot her up to the table. joe and i sit down at the table, too. after we take our first bite, she then chooses to remind us that we forgot to buckle her in to the booster seat that she normally can't stand being buckled into. joe gets up and buckles her in.) 

mo: but i don't wanna be buckled in!

me: you just asked us to buckle you in.

mo: but i didn't.

(she's actually correct. all she did was point it out to us that we forgot to buckle her in.)

joe: (sighing) why don't we just eat?

mo: (pointing) whass that?

me: those are black beans.

mo: i don't wike black beans. whasss that?

me: yes you do, mo. you had them yesterday. that is roasted sweet potato.

mo: oh. okay.

(she sits there for a few moments and then lets out a long, dramatic sigh.)

mo: ahhhhhh. uggghhhh. i. don't. wike. bwack. beans.

(cue a few lip pouts and tears.)

me: marlo. yes you do. you told me yesterday that you loved them. why don't you just try them? you know our rule: you don't have to eat all of it but you must try everything.

mo: okay, fine. whassss that?

me: that is corn and chicken.

mo: dasss yellow. dassss bwack. dasss orange. dasss brown. look, mama! itssa colors!

me: i see! good job, mo! can you try your dinner, please?

(she picks up one single bean with her fingers and pops it into her mouth bregrudingly and then promptly spits it out onto her plate as if it's poison.)

mo: i have a big boogie, mama. (pause) i don't wike bwack beans.

(mo then takes a handful of beans and drops them onto the floor along with mumbling something about beans shouldn't be on her plate. meanwhile, i'm closing my eyes and counting to five. wisely, joe is silent and eating his supper.)

me: marlo mclean. we. do. not. throw. our. food. on. the. ground. you know this. if you do it again, i will take your plate from you and you will sit there until we finish.

mo: i don't like bwack beans.

me: that's fine. but don't throw your food. it can stay on the plate. just eat the other things that you DO like.

mo: but i didn't throw it.

(again, she's technically correct; she simply intentionally dropped it on the ground. with that said, she picks up more beans and drops them on the ground, this time making sure to mush some in between her fingers first. i begin to pray for patience.)

me: really, marlo mclean?! what did i just say about throwing your food? what did i say would happen?

(i take her plate away from her and, right on cue, she begins a dramatic series of sighs, screams, cries, and crocodile tears. i'm having none of it.)

mo: but mama! i wike my black beans! i want my black beans!

me: are you going to throw you food?

mo: but i didn't throw my food.

lord, help me.

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