I was going to look really put together for this week’s post because I got all fancied up for my friends Ellen & Ivan’s Happy Birthiversary Party, but instead of hustling my butt outside for a quick photo before we left I took a nap. Instead of showing off my new, supercute black cowl neck shirt-and-miniskirt combo I’m wearing my DGAF leggings and two thin, comfy cotton shirts that most people would find appropriate for a stint at the gym. I’m still recovering from my round of pregnancy woes and decided this outfit would be perfect for achieving today’s goals: namely, not leaving the house if at all possible.
I officially can’t wear any of my jeans anymore, which, until I can order more pants or find my maternity jeans in storage, limits my options to these leggings, my 1970s grandpa pants, and my favorite pants ever (that Anthony hates with a passion) dubbed by mutual agreement between Angela and I, the Give Up On Life Pants. I think they look and feel fantastic but Anthony views them as somewhat of an abomination. A lot of my friends have spouses that feel the same way about a particular outfit or item of clothing of theirs, which I think is hilarious. How did we end up with such fancy partners?
Isobel has unfortunately picked up on the glory of Give Up On Life Pants through no fault of my own. From a very early age she has fought wearing jeans with all of her might and insists she needs to wear stretchy “comfy pants” instead. Every time you see her in jeans in a photo I’ve taken please know that she didn’t take that form of child abuse laying down, and each time we’ve gotten her to wear the hated denim has been a moral victory for parents everywhere.
I’ve created a monster.
The purse pictured here is my typical daily purse and it’s made out of salvaged vintage kimono fabric from Japan. I adore this bag and only wish it came with an adjustable strap as shoulder bags tend to slip off my narrow shoulders. I bought it off Etsy a million years ago.
Isobel decided to join me again this week and it made me realize I can’t remember exactly how or from where we acquired her tutu skirt, only that it was given to us so it must have been either a present or a hand-me-down.
I’m definitely poking out there now though my belly is still little enough for people to wonder if I’m pregnant but not to want to ask just in case they are wrong. To this I say, that is the right move, people! Never ask a woman if she’s pregnant unless she’s in labor. It’s just bad form. I posted photos from the maternity series I took with Isobel and when I posted one of my week 41 shots to IG I nearly gave some close friends a heart attack. I’m not that big. YET.
I’m suffering from off-and-on again nausea, which is frankly one hundred million times better than migraines. It’s not my favorite thing ever but it’s manageable and I can still go about my daily life with it. The migraines I get are how my body responds to shifts in hormones which is why I’ve had so many. I’m tired and my Crohn’s has been acting up, which is predictable and so far manageable. I really have been feeling pretty terrible but it’s okay. When this is all over I get a baby, so we’re good.
Isobel is so excited to be a big sister she can hardly stand it. She tells me every day about things she’s going to show the baby, or teach the baby, or do with the baby once Smalls gets here. She keeps asking when the baby can come out and I made her day by letting her know that the baby can hear our voices while in Mommy’s tummy. I’m glad it’s working out that we have so much space between them age-wise. I feel like I really got to relish the time I had with Isobel and she’s at an age where she loves to care for things and I can’t wait to see her behave that way towards the baby. My sister and I were around two years apart in age so that’s what I assumed we’d do, but I’m really glad it worked out the way it did. Our whole family is ready for this.