Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Hell hath no fury like a woman past her due date.
I'm officially an oversize Orca whale willing and ready to do whatever it takes to get this little nugget out of me. (That kinda sounded like I was talking about passing a kidney stone, didn't it?)

The last two days have consisted of long walks, pineapple, bouncing on a fitness orb (as G-money calls it), jumping jacks, and other (ahem) physical activities that have been said to help speed up the labor process. (This blog is all about over sharing, yes? Yes.)

Grahm says I'm not allowed to ground our baby while she's in utero, so I guess I can only wait till she decides to make her grand entrance. But while I'm as uncomfortable as walrus with a wedgie, I'm going to give you a day in the life of a woman past her due date via GIFs. You're welcomeI'm sorry.

Your due date arrives, and you're like this:
Ten minutes later:
You try to distract yourself:
But then the next day, you're like:
Your friends and family keep asking you when you're gonna pop, and you're like this: 
You go to your midwife, and she tells you to prepare yourself for this lasting another two weeks since you're not getting induced. And you're like:
The next few days you're like this:
and this:
and definitely this:
Your husband tries to tell you, "it'll all be over soon," but you're just like:
So if you need me, I'll be bouncing on my birthing ball, eating pineapple, or going on a long walk until I can successfully yell:
Please, Sawyer, let that be soon.

the end of an era

Monday, January 20, 2014

Today is gonna be grand. I have the day off, which is already cause for celebration. This also hasn't happened today, so I'm already beating the MLK days of Jena's past life. I'm also 39 weeks pregnant. We have officially entered the final countdown. My bags are packed, the car seat is loaded, and Grahm and I are (naturally) freaking out.

Sawyer is scheduled to to arrive this Sunday, and while I am (naively) hopeful she will take after her mother's love of punctuality and come when she's "supposed to," I recognize that she probably will be late.

However, this may very well be my last week. So to kick off the end of an era, here are some things I am incredibly thankful for.

1. Last night while I was doing the laundry, I had three piles of clothes for the very first time. Tiny socks, pink blankets, adorable hats. These little additions are so much cuter than Grahm's sweaty t-shirts or the granny panties I've had to wear the past few months to cover my ever expanding buns. I don't think most people would be as excited about more laundry, but I am. I really really am.

2. The nursery has been a room that I have loved and hated the past few months. I've procrastinated. I've cried rivers of tears. I've returned more rugs than I care to admit, but this little space has also caused me so much joy. It's finally starting to come together (despite it still not having a rug). Grahm often finds me in there, sitting in my rocker and wondering what she's going to be like and if she'll enjoy the girly room I decorated for her.

3. I can't tell you how many encouraging texts, emails, and conversations I've had with excited friends and family. Even if the text says, "Feel like you're gonna blow yet?" (thanks, brother), we are so thankful for all the wonderful people in our life who can't wait to meet our daughter. Sawyer is already loved, and that truly means the world.

Any guesses on when she'll arrive?
Grahm: Jan 30 at 732am, 8 lbs 05 oz, 23 in
Me: Feb 2 at 427pm, 7 lbs 09 oz, 22 in


Thursday, January 16, 2014

Isn't burp a funny word? (Why yes, I am five years old.)

What's a better project for a newbie seamstress than burping rags? I mean, they're literally gonna be covered in some milky spit up so there's no pressure on those straight seams, my friends. I've been sewing these burping rags like crazy lately. As an infant, Grahm had really bad acid reflux, so if Sawyer is anything like her daddy we're gonna need as many of these things around as possible!

You'll Need:
Terry Cloth/Chenille
Cutesy Fabric (cottons or flannels)
Measuring Tape/Cutting Board
Cut a piece of chenille and a piece of flannel into 10 by 18 rectangles. Really your burping cloths can be whatever size you want, but I like this size. Not too big. Not too small. You can easily fold into thirds. Also you can get 12 rectangles out of one 60-in. yard of chenille, so that's awesome.
Pin fabric together, right sides facing each other. Sew pieces together, but leave a small opening. Cut all four corners for a nice finish. Flip fabric right side out. Pin opening together. Sew a topstitch around entire cloth.
And voila!
When I ran out of chenille, I repeated this process with terry cloth. TC is much cheaper than chenille, for sure, but it's also a little more rough and it definitely isn't as pretty. (I'm not sure that should really be a factor when you're making burping rags, but ya know...)
With the two yards of terry cloth I bought and the many, many cottons I have around the house (I love the remnant section!), I made 28 cloths (of different sizes) for just under $12. Gotta love that Hobby Lobby coupon! 

After sewing a bajillion of these bad boys, I decided I like the chenille/flannel combo the best. It's a tad more expensive, and chenille is nearly impossible to find, but it's so much softer and more absorbent (an obvious requirement for burping rags).

If, however, you're not into making your own burping rags... I have the solution! My sweet blogger friend, Lauren, has just started her own Etsy shop, JBaby Rags. She is quite the seamstress and uses adorable flannel prints for her rags that any baby would love to spit on! She's not only hilarious and a fabulous blogger, she would also make a wonderful mother. Her and her husband started this shop to raise money for their IVF treatment. So even if you don't have a baby spitting up around your house, head on over to JBaby Rags and buy some of her adorable creations. They make great gifts, and it's for a wonderful cause! 
You can read more about their story here.


Monday, January 13, 2014

When I wasn't pretending that I was going into labor to freak Grahm out this weekend (I know, I know. Wife of the year!), I was with some pretty fan-freakin-tastic women, celebrating the impending arrival (less than two weeks!) of little Miss Sawyer Marie.  
Everyone showered us with so much love. It was such a special time to see women from so many different aspects of my life gather together for Baby Girl.
Sawyer now has a wardrobe that's making her "hey, this black dress is the only thing that fits" mamma jealous. (Is it acceptable for your baby to be better dressed than you? Good.) My sweet mother-in-law even gave me some cute clothes that Grahm wore as a tinysmall, which will be the only reason my child will ever wear the Aggie logo.

I (hilariously) had trouble getting a few presents out of their bags. I'm crossing my fingers that isn't some kind of cruel foreshadowing to how labor is gonna go.
Little Bear (aka Sawyer's future man) kept everyone entertained while I opened presents.
The Redeemer women I am so very blessed to know!
My sweet friends Haley, Jessica, and Janessa who hosted, made delicious food, and crafted the cutest decorations! They're pretty swell.
Tiffany, on the left, is a dear friend from college. Pretty sure 99% of my OU memories involve her in some way. So thankful she drove down from Austin to be there! Sarah, on the right, is my blogging bud and one of the sweetest people you'll ever meet. She took all these fabulous pictures, because I forced her she's so wonderful.
Grahm's adorable grandmothers. Grandmother hand-stitched this beautiful quilt that I will cherish for years and years. Mama Beth was telling me that I was very special because she "gave up her Sunday afternoon nap for this." 

We are so thankful for the wonderful women who put all this together, came, and showered us with so much love! We could not be more grateful for everyone's kindness and generosity. 
Now it's time to focus on getting this kiddo out of the oven. Does anyone have some spicy food?

Becca Moss, you are the winner of the canvas giveaway! Check your email! :)

sick days

Friday, January 10, 2014

Sick days are deceptive little monsters. When you and your husband have to take a couple of sick days together, you may immediately be suckered into the thought of "Oh vacation! This is going to be so romantic and fun!" I mean, yes, you're sick. You smell. You feel and look like death warmed over. You haven't deigned to step into a shower for the last three days. But you're with your man at your house with all of Netflix at your disposal. Things could get worse.

No. Just, no.

See, the ugly reality of a sick day is essentially it's the worst day. You wake up to sea of used Kleenexes on the bed. Are you on a cloud? Are you in heaven? You may feel like you want to die, but no, you're just getting up close and personal with your husband's dried-up mucous from yesterday. You roll (or in my 9-months-preggo case heave) yourself across your king-size bed to give your husband a good morning kiss, but you both end up coughing all over each other in a fun little game I like to call "No, you die first."

You sit. You lay in bed. You moan and groan like you're in labor. (Ha.) You sit some more. At some point you decide to put on pants and meander downstairs to scrounge for food. (Good luck with that one.) Then you find your couch and plump your fat fanny down for some more good ol' fashion sitting. Really, you're just trying to stay alive. You almost forget your husband is even in the room because neither of you are talking. You've transformed into helpless blobs incapable of making noises other than "Ugh," "Ahhh," "Fever," and (my personal favorite) "Foooood."

Projects around the house are beckoning you. "Come work on the nursery or your child will have no where to sleep and nothing cute to stare at..." But you ignore them. After all, you put on pants. Your productivity level just reached max capacity... not to mention the thumb workout you're surely getting from all the channel surfing.

There's also the little issue of cabin fever when you have an actual fever. Being in your house is jim dandy, sure. You can probably think of worse places to stay. But when you're infesting every nook and cranny of your living space with your gunktivitis, all you want to do is get out. You want to run (or in my case, wobble) down the street ("FREEEEDOM!"), breathe in some fresh air, pretend like you've done more today than put on pants and watch an ungodly amount of How I Met Your Mother episodes, and blissfully ignore the achy, trembly feeling that's flowing through your hygiene-questionable veins. Damn it, you just want to live!

But instead, you're (still) on your couch with your husband. Not talking. Being haunted by the zillions of projects piling up around you. Feeling like you'll die at any moment. And singing your own version of Leona Lewis's "Bleeding Love":

I took a sick day, and I keep sneezing. Keep, keep wheezing. I keep moaning. I keep, keep groaning. And I, I keep sitting. I keep, keep pitting out... I took a sick day.

Canvas Giveaway!

Wednesday, January 8, 2014

If you're anything like me, you're way behind on printing off all the fabulous pictures you have safely stored on your computer or phone. I've never taken more pictures in my life (ohhh, my salad looks so interesting on my plate), and I know this is only going to escalate times one million when this kiddo pops out of my tinkle taco. But with all my picture taking, my picture printing is abysmal.

Well never fear, my fellow picture-printing failures. I've got a solution! (Well, for at least one of your pictures anyway.)

I'm giving away a FREE 8x10 canvas print from Easy Canvas Prints
I suppose you could choose a photo of Grahm and I to display in your home (um, weird), but obviously this is for a picture of you and yours!

These are wonderful high-quality prints. You can upload your pictures straight from Facebook or Instagram and custom order your canvas (image wrap, mirror image, or a border color). It even comes with a picture hanger already in tact. It literally could not be more easy!

Simply follow me on GFC or BlogLovin and leave a comment below. I'll choose a winner at random on Monday! This giveaway is also hosted using Instagram (@jenaroach). Leave a comment there as well, and you'll be entered twice.

But wait, there's more! I'm also offering 50% off a canvas print of your own with free shipping! These beautiful prints normally sell for $44, but one can be yours today for just $22! Just go to Easy Canvas Prints and use the Promo Code: 50FREESHIP. Winner winner, chicken dinner!

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to find the perfect place to display our new canvas!

***Easy Canvas Prints is also affiliated with www.buildasign.com and www.alliedshirts.com which offer more custom print options and ideas.

These are my Confessions

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

This post is brought to you this fine Tuesday morning because, well, I already broke one of my New Year's resolutions. I know, I know. It's been seven days. Even Kim Kardashian makes longer commitments than me. Grahm and I went to Sonic, and I definitely indulged in a Dr Pepper. That's 23 flavors of failure, friends.

Here's my deal. I'm really good at doing things I say I'm going to do. I'm just really bad at not doing things I say I'm no longer going to do. (There were way too many negatives in that last sentence.) Run 10 miles? Sure, no problem. Don't drink Dr Pepper anymore? Not so fast there, Sancho.

This breach in New Year's resolutions got me pondering the many aspects of my life where I lack self-control. (Don't worry this won't be a pregnancy post on how many trips to the bathroom I have to make in the middle of the night. But if your curiosity is poking you in the elbow fat, it's 4.)

I could probably write a dissertation on this subject. There are just so many aspects of my life that need taming like my unruly armpit hair these days... (It's winter, people.)

1. Dr Pepper. I've already watched all the videos of policemen cleaning their bloody crime scenes up with a two liter of Coca-cola, so I understand the dangers of this poisonous concoction that I willfully shove down my throat. But. I. Can't. Help. It. If you have a solution to how I can rid myself of this deliciousness, don't tell me. My tombstone can just read, "Don't trust her. She wasn't a doctor."

2. Conditioner. Every time I get in the shower, I convince myself that the more of this goop I plop atop my head, the more likely my dry, crusty-crust locks will magically transform into a shiny, sultry mane. Reality is, my hair is deader than my grandma's brittle toenails. My sister has the most beautiful, magical hair in all the land and somehow God decided to skip right over me. Instead of facing this unfortunate truth, I opt to spend an ungodly amount of money on different kinds of conditioner, and I run out of this stuff faster than greased lightning. (What?)

3. Snooze. I used to be a non-snoozer kind of sleeper. My alarm went off, I would get up. Ya know, how it's supposed to work? Now that I've been married to Grahm (yes, everything is his fault) who is a notorious 6- or 7-push-snooze kind of guy, I can't seem to get my fanny out of the sack. Sometimes I even trick myself into thinking "I'm not really snoozing" by setting 5 alarms instead of pushing snooze. But who am I kidding, really? Lazy buns, party of one.

4. Target. This store. I mean, it's like a middle-classer's Wal-Mart. What's the big deal? Yet somehow I convince myself that I need everything that pops up on the shelves. I wouldn't deign to walk across the threshold of the clothing section in Wal-Mart, but Target? Come to mama! Everything seems to be cute and affordable, which is a tragic combo for Grahm's paycheck. (Isn't joint checking amazing?) I can't go into that store without spending at least $50; it's a problem, really. Sometimes Grahm doesn't even let me get a cart. "Take only what you can carry, dear."

Any areas you just can't help yourself in?
No worries, let's just sing this song together.

a new mantra

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Last night instead of sipping champagne and dancing the night away like most people our age, Grahm and I watched Saving Mr. Banks (bring tissues) and talked our about New Year's Resolutions while putting our laundry away. We're boring responsible like that. I mean there weren't many celebratory options for us preggos. I can't drink, my feet are totally swollen, and I certainly can't fit into any of my sparkly/sequins tops. I'm like a very large toddler who turns into a crankapotamus after 9:30, especially if I haven't had my nap.

January 1 has always been one my favorite days of the year. It's such a hopeful day for some. It's a chance to start anew. A clean slate. For a moment in the new year, we can all believe that we'll magically transform into the people we've always longed to become. Happier. Healthier. Someone who finally has it all together. Though I know the only real hope I have for improvement of any kind is through Jesus, my only good, I still thoroughly enjoy making a few resolutions. Maybe it's my Type-A personality, or maybe I just really like jotting down lists....

I have a few goals for this year. Most of them involve being the best mommy I can be, running marathons again, and getting back to my pre-baby weight of 108. However, there's really only one mantra that I would like to live each day of 2014. I love the simplicity of these words...

Every year certainly brings its own set of struggles and heartaches and unknowns. I'm as positive as punch that with the arrival of our first kiddo, there will be lots of that. However, there will also be plenty of wonderful. Plenty of joy. Plenty of "wow." That's the part I want to focus on. That's the part I want to remember. The darkness will always be there, sure. It's not something we can really avoid or plan for, but it's like my mamma always says: "You just gotta make your own sunshine."

Here's to 2014. May every day be our best day.