The Post-it Notes: Had a Bad Day

The “a” key on my laptop sticks. As does the q,w,z,x and the number buttons 1-5. Aaaaannnnnnd so does the shift, caps lock and tab key. Actually almost every key on the left hand side of my keyboard are now sticky. Typing is now a much bigger workout for my left hand than it is for my right hand. Poor left hand, it gets tired.

I blame it on the glass of grape sparkling cider that yours truly gracefully spilt on my laptop earlier this month. Mainly because, well that’s what caused it.

[sidenote: "Yours truly"??  What exactly does that mean?  What if I'm not being true?  "Yours white lyingly"  "Yours just kidding"  "Yours ha!, had you going there".]

[continuing on]

My computer during surgery.

Thankfully after a little open heart surgery Spencer was able to revive my laptop. The hard drive survived, as did the memory, and all the other important feature of my electronic BFF. But it has some very obvious battle wounds like, you know, the sticky keys. 

The sparkling cider incident happened the same day that I got into a little fender bender with a big bright yellow pole that snuck behind my van when I wasn’t looking. Jerk.

Which was also the same day that I got a flat tire.

Which, incidentally, was also the same day that I discovered that I. Am. Awesome.

Errr…not!

The end.

Smells like Sunshine

Yesterday, we let the fire burn out in the fireplace, and left the sliding glass door open.

We went on bike rides and neighborhood walks.

And ran around barefoot all afternoon.
Spencer mowed the lawn while I brought out the patio furniture
and washed away winter dust from outdoor décor.

We grilled chicken for dinner and the kids celebrated childhood

by jumping in a swimming pool full of lawn clippings.

The weather is changing friends.

And it feels so good!

The Post-it Notes: Sari’s Birthday Party

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Next Up: Post-it Note [2 of 7]

I'm so not kidding about the fire thing.

I haven’t been a very good blogger lately. In fact, I haven’t been a very good blogger since last fall when my first round of morning sickness reminded me of what that lil’ positive sign on a pregnancy test really equates to.

{Um, are you sick of me talking about morning sickness and pregnancy woes?!}

{Yeah, I thought so. Give me two point five more months and I promise not to mention another word about it.}

{Well, maybe not another word. But I do promise to bring it up a whole lot less.}

Speaking of pregnancy woes: I hate maternity clothes. It probably has something to do with the fact that all of my maternity clothes were purchased from a department store clearance rack six and a half years ago. But, still. They are big, and awkward, and maternity pants – oh my heavens, maternity pants. They swallow you whole. Start at my ankles and end at my {double} chin. Err, at least they start that way. But then by lunchtime I’m a hot mess of pregnancy wonder with the crotch of my pants hanging mid-thigh. It’s hot.

And now my doc has me wearing compression socks to try to keep the varicose veins from taking over my ENTIRE RIGHT LEG {pregnancy woes people, pregnancy woes}!

I feel like lunch lady meets Steve Urkel.

Only white.

And pregnant.

But Steve Urkel pants are better than the alternative. The other day Brynlee declared it a stay at home all day sorta day. And to celebrate I voted against maternity wear and squeezed my expanding self into a pair of pre-pregnancy black yoga pants. Every time I bent over Jace announced to anybody that would listen that “mama has a butt crack”.

I keep cheering myself on with the reminder that I only have two and a half more months - I can do two and a half more months.

Really two and a half pregnant months is a sweet forever! But I just tell myself that I’m oh so close so I don’t feel quite as tempted to throw all the maternity clothes in the driveway and SET THEM ON FIRE.

I’m 29 weeks though. {29 weeks and two days, asamatteroffact} Which means I’m on the homestretch. The last lap. The final trimester. And honestly, I think I’m going to survive ‘till the end.

And if I don’t, feel free to auction off my maternity clothes to help feed my family.

And if you don’t mind, bury me in a knee length dress + my compression socks.

Because I think it would be funny.

But if I do survive - fingers crossed - I hope that the blogger in me resurfaces. I sorta miss updating my unedited life with our random happenings for memories sake.