cross it off

i wrote today's- friday off work to do list- on this sock insert i found laying around. it is from the husbands v-day present. i'm so romantic, i got him new socks...

today is going to be one of those days where i'm planning to write everything i do on this list just so i can cross it off.

because when you bathe an 80 pound pup and scrub the grout in the old tile shower using a toothbrush, i think you should give yourself credit for every single little thing you do that day...

showers are recommended

this morning i woke up and decided to head into the office early (6:30 early!) because i just wanted to lock myself in, have no one know i was there, and get all the things done i can never do when people know i'm there.

so i grabbed jeans and this oversize hoodie (of bobby's) and called it good. no face washing, no hair brushing, no professional clothing. i was going in, shutting the door, getting the work done. then returning home to shower and work from home the rest of the day.

no harm done right?

until 9:20ish when i'm just wrapping up my secret work and thinking i'm going to sneak back out before anyone even sees my lovely ensemble.

that is when my director stuck his head in my office to put something on my co-workers desk, and simultaneously reminded me of our 10am meeting with one of the finance gurus from the state office.

oh yea, oops.

suddenly in a panic, my unshowered, hooded self, with mascara smears beneath the eyes, felt a tad unprepared for the meeting.

i wanted to die.

i was embarrassed for my anyone to see me, let alone, attempt to acknowledge me as anything but a lazy 14-year old in the meeting.

in response to my outfit, my director said, "don't worry, you're pregnant." because that is the ultimate excuse to discard cleanliness and dignity?

awesome.

i'm glad we live approximately 3 minutes from my office.

which makes me wonder, if i could go home and get cleaned up in 10 minutes or less... why did i not do it before i left the house in the first place?

touching my toes...

anyone feel like you really know something about yourself, but when you admit it out loud, it feels like you are figuring it out for the first time?

this morning i had myself a flustered/snappy moment. bobby is better with those than i. he just looks at me patiently- probably in utter confusion of why i went from normal to freaked in .2 seconds...

he walks outside to get something from the cellar and when he walks back in, i blurt out, "i'm not flexible! you know i'm not flexible bobby!"

we are not talking yoga here people. though i guess i might as well admit that as well.

harsh, but true. very true. even if i don't use a planner-per se- my brain maps out my day, what i want to do, what i expect to do. then my week, and so-on. sometimes i know what i want to wear or eat on a certain day down the road... am i freaking you out yet? because admitting it is a slightly harsh reality for me...

so- i don't really plan everything- much of my life goes very unorganized- but when i tab something in my head, so let it be written, so let it be done.

problem is, when such a plan doesn't come to fruition, or people change plans, flake, add stuff to my plate, i feel like my world got rocked. don't get me wrong. this happens often. still not used to it.

this reality does not bode well with the impending motherhood concept. pretty sure little bebes and their life, aren't really a planner's paradise.

preparing for my whole world to get rocked upside down. bring it on baby bobby. this is me welcoming you to rock my world!

sidenote: did i mention that i was talking to the doc about natural childbirth, and he recommended that with all the classes and techniques out there, he just wanted me to find whatever would help me relax. he said, "then it will work for you." i told that to bobby and he said, "guess you are getting an epidural then, because you don't know how to relax."

not really sure when or how i got like this.
but- yep. it's true.
insights? anyone?

he loves me.

i often have conversations with friends about expectations. if you set them up to be met, you will often be satisfied. otherwise , no matter how great the situation, if it doesn't meet your expectations, there will be something lacking.

after our nuptials, the husband and i agreed to a 50-50% split of valentine/anniversary responsibility. each year we rotate. one of us gets to do the planning, and the other one gets to enjoy the day of love, sponsored by the other. this year i was the beneficiary of love.
he loves me: wake up to my very own display of origami flowers and a love note- titled: his heart
followed by breakfast in my pj's and a personal origami folding lesson.

he loves me not?

he loves me:taking me on snowy walks with the puppy, so i can hear the snow crunch under my feet. (that is my favorite part of early morning runs in the fresh snow)

and playing fetch with snowballs.

he loves me not?

he loves me: he offered to take me to my favorite dinner, which we decided was shopping and cooking together. enjoyed sans photo taking...

he loves me not?

he loves me:
adventures in watercolor...one of us is creative, and the other of us paints the fruit bowl in front of us....

he loves me not?

verdict: he loves me. expectations met and exceeded. nothing better than a day together.

love week.

last year, the husband and i picked up this mailbox at the habitat for humanity restore- for a solid $1.it has plans to adorn the front of our house, possibly with a little color splash addition. however, since we're still preoccupied with the interior of our abode, the mailbox sits in wait.

i found in fumbling through our shed for some other valentine love and decided to put it to work.

the husband saw me cutting out letters and asked what the ransom was going to be. i'd love to see me trying to kidnap him, now that would be a sight!

but it made for a perfect love box. all week when the flap was open, there was a little love waiting inside.

an excuse to deliver mini letters, long overdue wedding albums (note: new years resolution- check), and a sugar overdose.

a little frosting among friends

the delights of working 4 10 hours days is having fridays at my disposal... the theory is that i do the house cleaning that day. however, when offers for making cookie love (and let's be honest, eating...) come up, cleaning house just doesn't sound as fun.

debby came up with this idea to do with her 2- year old daughter, and invited us along. but when a nap sounded better to madeleine, she was stuck with just us semi- grown ups...
working hard for the yummy, so hard for the yummy (i had to do it)
i am allergic to taking normal photos. we're darn lucky my tongue isn't sticking out...
fun to make, but not too pretty to eat, their supply is dwindling as we speak.

ironing shirts is fun to do...

to do, to do, to do!- anyone catch the song here?

i'm not quite sure what time i actually woke up this morning, but by the time i was bored enough to look at my cell phone it was 5:24. i'm not really sure why less than 6.5 hours of sleep is acceptable to my body, but i assure you, part of it will disagree later with many yawns and other degrees of drowsiness.

but i woke up and somehow was singing the above catchy tune over and over in my head. ironing shirts is fun to do? who knew?

truth is, i'm dreaming of being that housewife. i find myself daydreaming often about the days i'll have home with baby bobby this summer, the walks, naps, and house cleaning.

i find a little too much pleasure in having things put away, clean, out of sight, done. ask bobby. he hears about it when the house is clean, and all about how i love it. it makes me positively gleeful. hey bobby, isn't it so nice? hey bobby, doesn't it just feel different in here? hey bobby, don't you love it when the house is clean?

and then the relaxing is all the better too. sit down, feet up, and think. i can relax. look at what i did. now is a great time to admit, i'm starting to sound like my mother- as a child she always told me she couldn't relax until the house was clean. i didn't get it and would tell her back (lovely) that she could still lay on the couch if the floor wasn't vacuumed....

maybe i'm off my rocker here, but i envision having time to iron bobby's shirts, and i enjoy the thought.

on my mind...

let's be honest, when is this belly of mine and the little guy inside, not what is on my mind?
especially in the middle of the night, as my sleeping positions have been high compromised. who chooses to be a side sleeper anyway?

sometimes this thinking only reminds me once again of the differences between men and women.

or at least between the husband and myself.

think- someone flicking you in the stomach constantly- but from the inside. yep, prompts you to think about them regularly. (somehow with fondness though, which i'm sure would not be my feelings toward just about anyone else flicking me in the stomach on a regular basis. Would now be a good time to admit that everytime baby bobby kicks, i lean over and flick bobby in the stomach, so he gets a taste of it? think he still loves me??)

all this thinking- read obsessing- has led to overactive planning brain mode.

so i have this conversation with bobby, wanting him to get in on the action. I start peppering him with the questions about his expectations, what he wants, what he thinks will happen, etc.

in regards to childbirth, his response was something like, "well, I plan on being there, and the doctor will come in and deliver the baby, and hand him to us, and well, yea."

insert panic here.

i think he might have filled in a few more details, but not many.

is it a good time to decide that maybe a birthing class is in order?

p.s. the lovely backdrop is our bedroom, currently not in working order. updates on that forth coming...