What Not to Wear {Lesson Two}

Welcome to Lesson Two of What Not to Wear! Here's your host:

ME! (the one with the sleep-deprived eyeballs and slightly crazed look)

We've discussed the body changes caused by pregnancy and breastfeeding before, especially when it comes to the chest area. But just because your boobs look like deflated life rafts (if they don't, by the way, I hate you) DOES NOT MEAN THIS IS ACCEPTABLE:

Because who doesn't want to ponder Walmart's chicken selection topless?

Just don't do it.

Or if you must do it, move to France.

Or Antarctica.

Please.

In case you missed it, here's Lesson One.

Survey Says ...

Hi!

We bought a swamp cooler today. Well, actually, Grover (otherwise known as the husband) bought it.

Fun facts about our swamp cooler, hereby dubbed Swampy (it's catchy, no?):

• It makes the whole house smell like plastic ... it's what I imagine Jane Fonda smells like.
• It was expensive. 
• It is hideous. So hideous it actually competes with the kitchen carpet for attention.
• You can't hear anything going on within a 20 foot radius due to the noisy fan.
• It is so big you could probably hide an entire cow in it and get through customs without a hitch.
• I lurve it.

The backs of my knees and other random body crevices (or crev-asses as my good friend Bear Grylls likes to say) are no longer saturated with sweat. Hooray!

Anyhoo, a friend of mine posted this on Facebook and since my brain is not functioning at full capacity (even with Swampy beating back the 90+ temp), I figured with a few changes and some grammar and spelling corrections, it would be entertaining. 

At least for me, anyway :-)

1. Full name: Caitlin Rose Walker
2. Current crush: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
3. Addiction: See previous question
4. How tall I am: 5 feet, 3.5 inches
5. Relationship status: Married
8. Current mood: Sleepy
9. Favorite color: Purple
10. Confession: I want to see Magic Mike 
11. List of people who may not want to see Magic Mike: Straight men, infants, children, blind people, dead people, people who hate abs
11. Shoe size: 6.5
13. Who I last hugged: T Dubbs
14. Someone who understands me: God
17. Someone gorgeous: Miss Piggy
19. Someone who makes me smile: Stephen Colbert
20. Who I'm listening to: Grover and the swamp cooler (that sounds like a band)
21. Turn on: Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
22. Turn off: forgetting to bring me Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
23. Best friends: Chocolate ... and peanut butter

Disclaimer: Some of the questions above may or may not have been answered by the tiny human currently residing in my womb.

What Not to Wear {Lesson One}

Hello!

Welcome to the {walker whimsy} edition of What Not to Wear, the part of the show where Larry sings a silly song ...

Oh wait ...

Over the next few weeks, I'll be bringing you two important fashion lessons. Why two? Because I haven't thought of anything else yet. 

Imagine a really old computer attempting to boot Windows Vista and Mac OS-X Leopard (or was it Lion? Tiger? Bear? OH MY.) AT THE SAME TIME.

That's my brain.

Sad, but true.

Enjoy!

Lesson One - Say Goodbye to White

If you're a mom, it is a good idea to avoid pristine white clothing.

Why? 

Because this is what ends up on your shirt/skirt/the butt of those '80s flashback jeans at the end of the day:

So, if you don't want to look like you went 15 rounds with a crazed midget (oh wait, you did), say goodbye to white.

Before, during and after Labor Day ... 

Or when the crazed midgets move out.

Lesson number two? Stay tuned :-)

The Home Stretch

It's official, peeps. I have entered the third trimester, which is also known as the three months when it seems like you'll be pregnant until the end of time.

The third trimester is difficult because 1) you're tired of being pregnant, 2) you're huge, 3) you can't walk anywhere without feeling like a bowling ball is going to fall out of your you-know-what (this is much worse the second time around) and 4) your insides look like they went a few rounds with Sugar Ray Robinson.

I remember Googling, "how to survive the last six weeks of pregnancy" while T was baking. Nothing helpful came up, so this time I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Behold, the epic and awesome list of things to do during phase three of growing a human. Feel free to borrow my suggestions if you, too, are a walking incubator.

>Take Tums.
>Take more Tums.
>Take naps.
>Put your feet up.
>Drink lots of water.
>Steal your husband's pillows so you can sleep longer than three hours at a time. Tell him the dog ate them. Better yet, tell him the baby ate them.
>Become a nudist.
>Exercise a little each day. You're coming up on an event akin to a marathon, so be wise.
>Get some fresh air.
>Stop worrying about your weight.
>Make somebody give you a pedicure.
>Stand in front of the freezer with the door open. Ponder milkshakes.
>Eat when you're hungry. And not just popsicles and pickles.
>Try to remember all the stuff you learned in your childbirth class. Realize the only thing you can recall is your husband almost passed out and 10 centimeters looks a lot bigger than it sounds.
>Make a list of stuff you need for baby. Buy the essentials.
>DO NOT PACK YOUR HOSPITAL BAG TOO EARLY. It only makes the waiting worse.
>DO NOT PACK YOUR HOSPITAL BAG TOO LATE. Then you're rushing around to find clean underwear in between contractions. Not. fun.
>Figure out if/what you want for pain management during labor.
>Get baby's room ready.
>Go through baby clothes and sort by size and season. Box up the stuff you won't need until later.
>Spend quality time with your spouse.
>Spend quality time with your other children.
>Buy yourself something nice.
>Assess your mommy wardrobe. Make sure you've got nursing camis, bras and lots and lots of stretchy pants.
>Get some dry shampoo and deodorant so you don't look like Edward Scissorhands when unexpected well-wishers arrive. Or, don't answer the door.

Or, answer the door as is and watch them run screaming for the hills.

I like option three.

Happy Father's Day!

Actually, I'm not. 

Be thankful.

Happy Father's Day!

P.S. Just what is the proper way to enunciate mouth breathing?

I'll Take Two

My grandparents left a lovely Brio train set at the house. Since my brothers and I have fond memories of fighting over it like tiny banshees playing with it, it's pretty cool T gets to continue the tradition.

The playing part, not the banshee part.

Hopefully.

It's Talenzilla, king of the train set!

In regard to siblings, I'm kind of freaking out about the transition from one kid to two. Can I do this?

Can I change twice as many diapers?

How am I supposed to find time to do yoga without a baby kicking me in the head?

Can I keep random objects out of two mouths?

Will I remember to feed them?

Will I ever be able to shower again?

How many times can you hear the Barney theme song before you go certifiably insane?

Will they get along? If not, what am I supposed to do about it?

Will I die of suffocation under a laundry pile bigger than K2?

Of course I'm being rational. What do you mean, I'm not the first mommy to have two children less than two years apart?

They survived?

Their children grew into well adjusted adults (read: they aren't serial killers)?

Yes?

Oh.

Okay.

I guess we have a pretty good shot at this.

If not, you know where to find me.

"Hellpppp!"
In case you were wondering, this isn't actually my laundry pile.
Much to my dismay, I do not own penguin sheets
... or maybe that's an XXXL penguin muumuu.
Gotta get me one of those.

For the record ...

I do not and never will understand men.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

Exhibit D:

the safety goggles are a nice touch ...

All you can really do is laugh. You can't change them. Believe me, I've tried.

Plus, your only other option is to cry hysterically into the pile of dirty laundry on the floor.

You know, the one RIGHT NEXT to the hamper.

The EMPTY hamper.

Or you could always go postal.

How to Make Hummingbird Food

One of my favorite things about summertime is the return of the hummingbirds.

Also, milkshakes.

They are so tiny and cute and ... tiny (the birds, not the milkshakes).

Here at Chez Walker, we make our own hummingbird food. It's super quick, super easy and super cheap.

All you do is place one part white granulated sugar to four parts water in a saucepan. I usually do one cup of sugar and four cups of water (you can refrigerate any leftovers. I recommend labeling it, though, or certain persons might think it's some sort of magic Kool-Aid ... )

Boil the mixture on high heat until the sugar dissolves (five or so minutes), then turn it off and let it cool completely before filling the feeder. Some people like to add food coloring, but since I prefer my food with as few artificial dyes as possible, I assume the hummingbirds do, too. Even clear, it does a great job of attracting the wee little birdies.

Also, it is really hard to take a not-crappy picture of a hummingbird while eating a peanut butter sandwich.

Keep that little nugget of wisdom for future reference.

The Bright Side ...

It's unfair to post pictures of ugly carpet without sharing a few snapshots of the lovely things around our new residence.

Standby for photobomb in 3, 2, 1 ...

One of the many (really old) outbuildings on the property. They are perfect for photo ops and hiding notorious criminals. Yeehaw.

California poppies in the front yard (and random other places). When I was little I used to pretend the dead ones were fairy wands as I flitted about the yard (did I mention we moved back to the house I lived in from age two to age seven?). 

Fifteen years later, it's a poppy EXPLOSION.

The headlight on a Chevy Luv ... not sure this would qualify as "lovely" unless you're a Luv lover. 

Or a "Luv-er".

Boo ya. Horrific pun.

Wood grain from an old juniper tree.

My favorite - yellow primroses. The smell is divine.

A dugout from pioneer times. SO COOL.

More wood grain.

A mama horse and her baby.

T's reaction to the horses. He thinks they're giant dogs (he repeated "gog" over and over). I think he was a little frightened by their enormousness.

I would be frightened of a "gog" 50 times bigger than me, too.

The little red house. It's so very Little House on the Prairie, don't you think?

And finally, one of several insanely beautiful views. 

There are so many places to take awesome pictures, I may stoop to begging my friends to let me do photo shoots.

Seriously.

First person who asks gets a free photo shoot.

How sad and desperate of me.

Anyhoo, have a nice weekend! Relax, enjoy the weather, and steal a spot in your great grandpa's hammock.

Evidently it is an extremely entertaining thing to do.

:-)