All you need is love…

Sorry, I’ve been on a bit of a blogging hiatus the last week or so. I’ve tried to stay regular in updating at least 3 times a week and I vow to stick by that. Part of my lack of blogging is that my pregnancy has been uneventful in the last week or so. I’m almost 18 weeks at this point and like all you moms assured me, things are getting much better. I’m not as tired, the morning sickness has pretty much subsided and now I’m just waiting for my skin to clear up and the maternity clothes to look right. J

As you know, Monday was Valentine’s Day. Facebook was an entertaining space on such a day. It was filled with V-Day haters and V-Day lovers alike. The haters were kinda sad in a way, but some middle-of-the-road people on FB tried to convince them that V-day isn’t just about romantic love, it’s a time to remember all those you love and who love you. (A little cheesy and idealistic if you ask me, but hey, whatever works.)

Valentine’s Day holds special meaning for Mr. Harris and me. We were engaged two years ago on V-Day at the Opryland Hotel. He put a lot of thought and effort into it and it truly made that event in our lives very special. (I have a blog that I posted on Facebook about our Engagement when it happened. I may tag it on here so you can see the giddy ramblings of a diamond-bearing, wedding-planning freak.)



This is where we got engaged - on the balcony of the Old Hickory Steakhouse overlooking the Delta atrium in the Opryland Hotel.



Sidenote A: We had our Engagement photos taken at Opryland Hotel and at the exact place where he popped the big question.

Sidenote B: People who bitch about how cliché it is to get engaged on Holidays, annoy me. (And are probably single or divorced.)

This year, we exchanged little gifts and we both realized we’re probably not “newly weds” anymore because we ended up (not purposely) getting each other baby related gifts. No lingerie. No chocolates. Just bibs and the like. True story.

No matter your situation, I hope you had a pleasant Valentine's Day!

Love, Jenn

Maternity Clothes

My in-laws gave me a gift card to the “Motherhood Maternity” store for my Birthday. I don’t know what possessed me to actually go there on my Birthday, but I did. If you know me, you know that I don’t care to shop, even when I’m at my thinnest and in the very best mood. But I had to bite the bullet because I only have two pairs of pants that fit right now – a pair of grey trouser pants for work and a pair of fitted sweat/yoga pants for the weekend. I’m pretty sure people are judging me at work for wearing the same pair of pants every day, so when I can, I wear my other pair of black work pants and just leave the tops unbuttoned. Not classy and very uncomfortable.

Shopping for clothes right now is a hot mess. I don’t look pregnant to anyone, but I’m pooched out enough that my current pants don’t fit. Maternity clothes look a little funny on me, as if I’m trying to cover up a recent, unexplained weight gain. However, the pants are heaven, in terms of comfort.

I was able to scour the clearance racks and get some nice cotton, light weight dresses for the summer. I’ve decided I’ll probably live in dresses this summer. Pants are too constricting and hot, and the dresses I got are really cute. Again, they’re a little big, but I tried on detachable pregnancy stomach and it looked funny, but believable. I’m guessing that’s what I’ll look like in 2 months time or so. Now if the rest of my body would stay the same size and only grow in the tummy area, I’ll be happy. (Wishful thinking.)

This interim period is really frustrating. I’m 15 weeks along, and starting to feel better physically, but the tummy isn’t catching up like I’d like it to. But I’ve been told to enjoy it while I can because in a few months I’ll wish I looked the way I do now. I’m trying to relish every moment of it, but its hard when only three outfits look half way decent.

~Jenn

Where have the years gone?

On Sunday I celebrated my 29^th Birthday. I was just saying that it feels like yesterday I was celebrating my “sweet 16,” the big 21^st Birthday and even my “Quarter Life Crisis B-day (25.)” Now I’m looking 30 in the face, but it’s been neat to reflect on where I was at every Birthday and all the days in between.

As usual, Facebook filled my wall with love yesterday, another reason FB is so addicting. I love it! I noticed several people, particularly moms, would say, “Happy Birthday Jenn! Enjoy your last Bday that’s all about you!” Or “Just think, next year you’ll have a lil’ baby celebrating too!” Neal and I did the quick math and figured Baby Niblet would be roughly 7 months old by my next Birthday. CRAZY!!! I can’t even imagine a newborn baby in our lives, let alone a 7 month old!

I’ve gotten used to sharing my Birthday with the Super Bowl every few years. (I like to pretend that all these people are eating, drinking and celebrating in my honor.) Now that’s nothing when I think about having a baby to help celebrate it next year. Neal and I daydreamed yesterday and having a Birthday dinner and pulling up a high chair for our first baby to join in. I suppose I can’t enjoy Birthday cake without having a baby play in the frosting. (Good photo op, too!)

It’s amazing to think how much our life will change by my next Birthday. But we’ve got Neal’s big 30^th coming up on Saint Patrick’s Day, so we’ve got a little more celebrating left to do before Baby Niblet shares the spotlight!

~Jenn

Crazy Dreams

My mom claims from the second day home from the hospital that I slept soundly through the night. If that’s true, it’s something I’ve been blessed with all my life. I’m an 8 hour of sleep a night kind of girl, always have been. I’m the party pooper because I can’t stay up past 10 to save my life. I fall asleep before midnight every New Years Eve, and I’m up at 6am with the best of them.

Earlier in my pregnancy there were nights that I was in bed by 8pm and even after 11 hours of sleep, it never felt enough. In the last week or two, I’ve felt my sleep patterns start to adjust a little. I’ve been waking up at 2 or 3am, wide awake. Most of the time it’s my husband that wakes me either by his incessant snoring or asking me if I’m ok. And usually it’s a resounding no.

I have been haunted by the most ridiculous dreams. Some are so real and vivid. Some include people I know well or just stalk on Facebook. Some are just odd and some are really disturbing. (I don’t share the disturbing ones because I don’t think this old friend of mine wants to know that I dreamt of her in a coma last night. Hell of a way to spark up a conversation.) Some are just flat out scary. Mom always said that “dreams are only interesting to the one that had them.” I try to remember that, but some stick with me and I insist on sharing them.

Like last night.

I dreamt Neal and I were walking through MTSU’s campus at night. All of a sudden I see this half horse and half lion puppy. It was oddly cute so we went up to pet it and then heard this huge roar! We turn around and see a full grown half horse half lion being ridden by a crazed knight aiming at us with a bow and arrow. We were running all over campus, though every building trying to warn people to stay inside and hide from this odd creature. I recall every building we were in… my dorm freshman year. Peck hall. The gym where I took a water aerobics class. It was so vivid, it felt real. I woke myself up in fear and I can’t get the vision of this horse lion, arrow shooting man.

Anyways, I wish the dreams would go away. They put a cramp in sleep cycle and I’d like to enjoy sleep before a baby comes into the world. But I hear it only gets worse from here. So who knows.

~Jenn

Hormones. Schormones

Pregnancy has given me an excuse to cry without being belittled about it. It’s to the point where my husband is whispering to others, “Don’t worry, she’s okay. She’s just pregnant.” I almost let the cat out of the bag of our impending news on Facebook when I admitted to crying at an episode of “The People’s Court.” Now I cry at Folgers commercials. My point is, it doesn’t take much.

Now I’ve realized that these hormones may make me overreact at times. For instance, I took my wedding rings to our jeweler to be sized up just a bit. Ever since I had the two bands sauntered together, it’s been a tight fit. I’ve wanted to do this for a while now and since I’m pregnant, I imagine my fingers will only get chubbier. So we went on Saturday and I felt like the “ master jewelry repairman,” as he introduced herself to me as, was being a bit argumentative with me when weighing the pros and cons of resizing my set. I felt myself on the verge of tears in the middle of a jewelry store yall. W…T…F?! We got out to the car and Neal assured me he just wanted to make sure I was making an informed decision. An informed decision?! No. No. You make informed decisions about marriage, babies, moving 401l's to IRA’s, jobs, etc. Not on a decision to resize my ring up a quarter size.

I called a friend last night because I wanted to lament over the fact that I can’t eat tuna anymore. (Turns out mercury poisoning would be bad to contact with a baby growing inside me.) I really wanted tuna last night. And I was… distraught! Said friend didn’t answer the phone, and that’s probably a good thing.

So unless you’re Neal or my mother, I would advise that you not answer the phone if I call you between the hours of 6 and 8 pm. Those seem to be the worst times for me because I’m usually home, alone, with entirely too much quietness to reflect on things. Also, this is prime time for tear-inducing commercials. Just giving you a heads up.

~Jenn

Come home Piper

My brother and I came back to my parent’s house last Thursday, following my grandmother’s funeral, to find that part of the backyard fence had fallen down and two of my parent’s schnauzers, Jill and Piper, were MIA. We immediately called the local vet and animal control and put up fliers. We found Jill two days later. Almost a week later, Piper is still on the run.

Piper is my favorite out of my parent’s schnauzer collection. He has a bit of the middle child syndrome and so I’ve always made an effort to give him lots of extra attention when I visit. He is very sweet and incredibly gentle. On several occasion’s, Neal and I have kept Piper at our house by himself to see how he would do as an “only dog.” I can’t believe how well he adapted considering he’s a country schnauzer who has been in a “pack” since birth. He’s very quiet, which is uncharacteristic of yappy ass schnauzers. He doesn’t really bark at much and when he does, it’s a few yelps. (I think he never truly discovered his voice at my parent’s house.) He’s afraid of cars and horses. If you toss him treats, he never misses them. Even if he has to walk backwards and do a back flip, he’ll catch it!

I have been heartbroken. It’s almost a week and no sign of Piper. Mom calls the vet and animal control daily and still nothing. This whole time I had imagined that he’s cuddled up in a near-by home, enjoying the riches of being an only dog. But you can’t go anywhere without seeing the signs for him, so why hasn’t someone called!?

And then, someone at work dropped the bombshell on me.

Co-worker: Your parents live out in the country, right?

Pregnant Jenn: Yes.

Co-worker: Oh boy. I sure hope the coyote’s haven’t gotten to him!

Pregnant Jenn: <<look of shock on my face and run to the bathroom for a good hormonal cry>>

So I’m sending up prayer to St. Anthony (patron saint of lost things) and St. Francis (patron saint of animals) that Piper will come home soon. I hope he’s just in a warm house looking out a window, and if that’s the case I hope those people see our sign soon, because he is missed.

Oh! And I have it in writing from my husband that when he does come home, he’s coming to Hendersonville to live the life of an only dog!

Saturday's are the best days!

Every Saturday, I move into a new week of pregnancy. I’m set up on a website that emails me every Saturday morning welcoming me to week such-and-such. We have a ritual that I wake up Neal and read to him about what our baby is doing this week. It makes the whole experience a little more real. To know that right now there is a lil’ baby inside of me, that I can’t feel, that is dancing for joy. S/he is now clenching lil’ fists and there are even tiny tooth buds under their gums. THAT is thriving within me.

I pray every day that this baby is healthy, first and foremost. It can be a boy or a girl, I just pray that it has 10 tiny fingers and 10 tiny toes. (Though, tiny toes are unlikely because momma has size 10 feet and daddy struggles to find 14 Wide’s. But there is hope.)

And after I pray for a healthy baby, I pray that it’s happy. Like its dad. I’ve said it before, though quiet, Neal is the happiest man I’ve ever met. And it takes nothing to make him that way, he’s just… is. (Which at first, I thought it was a lil’ screwy, but whatev. Haha.)

And then I pray s/he has Neal’s beautiful blue eyes and his chubby cheeks, with my winning smile. I hope Niblet is smart like both of us, has a zest for life like Neal, and a talent like mine.

But most of all, I just pray that we have a healthy child. And I guess that’s all you can really ask for.