tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44847261383702894132011-12-12T16:01:46.756-05:00Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.comBlogger1261100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-16118551539410610372011-06-29T12:18:00.006-04:002011-06-30T10:06:55.021-04:00

There's a bloggy-type website that I found when I was pregnant with C called "Baby Bunching", which is about having 2 kids under 2. (And for the record, 2u2 from here on out will mean 2 kids under 2.) One of the things that Baby Bunching mentioned was that it would probably be a good idea if longer errands (such as grocery shopping) were done either on your own or with just one kid.To which I

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-7671141350890380342011-06-03T08:49:00.000-04:002011-06-03T08:49:07.212-04:00

Some of you may not know that D works nights.  He goes to work at 7:35 p.m. and gets home at around 8:15 a.m.  He works at the beginning half of the week for 5 weeks, then switches to the end half of the week.  He also owns his own lawn business, which he works "part time" during the spring/summer/early fall.  During the winter, I much prefer D to be working the front half of the week, because

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-69196063516589476402011-05-20T09:20:00.000-04:002011-05-20T09:20:16.985-04:00

So that last post was pretty deep.  I'm sure some of you were considering putting me on suicide watch and sneaking into my bathroom to steal my Venus for fear of what I could do to my wrists. Anyway, I am for sure making some progress towards beating Mean Girl into a bloody, pulpy oblivion.  So far we're both showing some wear and tear.  But, she suffered a massive defeat last night when I ran

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-10538107879601913562011-04-28T21:46:00.000-04:002011-04-28T21:46:15.626-04:00

As I stand in front of the bathroom mirror before my shower and wait for the water to warm up, I commence my regular routine of self-loathing.   I study my stomach in disgust, angry that it still looks 4 months pregnant when all efforts to disguise it are removed.  I woefully acknowledge my stretch marks, battle wounds from two pregnancies, angrily climbing their way up my overly-wide hips; a

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-35811156902856541132011-04-11T08:17:00.000-04:002011-04-11T08:17:11.953-04:00

When I got pregnant with L, I was just about to get started on a health kick.  I had finally gotten fed up with the excess flab I was carrying around with me and decided that I'd join Weight Watchers and start training to run a 5K using the Couch to 5K program.  But then I learned I was no longer walking around alone and that positive pregnancy test was like a Get Out of Jail Free card. Having

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-41412985273199582612011-03-05T09:00:00.002-05:002011-03-09T14:39:13.317-05:00

Hello!  I am still alive and well, despite all signs pointing to the opposite around this place!  I have a good excuse, though.  My little girl, C, was born on Feb. 16!  She is adorable and gorgeous and is quite the peanut.  My labor and delivery was a dream experience, and I just generally love the guts out of my new baby.   However, that is not what I'm here to talk about today.  I'm here to

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-54468108832176664722011-02-08T11:56:00.001-05:002011-02-08T11:57:23.317-05:00

Hey, lucky you! Two posts in two days! And bonus, they are both about how I want this baby to be born! How happy are you that you clicked over here? Since I'm driving myself crazy wondering when 2.0 will come, I figured I'd let you in on just how crazy I am so you can have a laugh at my expense. In my defense, some of things have only been *considered* at this point, so at least I'm not

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-58614542576889397552011-02-07T09:22:00.001-05:002011-02-07T09:23:16.036-05:00

I am at war with myself. More specifically, my physical self is at war with my control freak self. I am 37 weeks and 2 days pregnant today, and my physical self wants this baby o-u-t. My physical self is sick of Braxton Hicks contractions and peeing constantly and heartburn and back aches. My control freak self is going haywire because she can't decide when the ideal time for this baby to

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-49900802931324128642011-01-25T14:37:00.002-05:002011-01-25T15:12:07.447-05:00

I think I may have mentioned this already, but D's and my 3 year anniversary is coming up on Feb. 2. We (I) try to make it a point to plan something special, preferably some sort of getaway. The problem is, I was somewhat short-sighted when I decided that a February wedding was a good idea. Turns out, if you don't have lots of money, it's kind-of hard to find things to do in Michigan in the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-56141679247534687002011-01-13T08:29:00.005-05:002011-01-13T08:37:22.991-05:00

Ok, so I don't have a daughter. We don't know if the bun that's cooking is a boy bun or a girl bun, but it doesn't matter. Even if I never have a daughter, I'll probably one day have a daughter in law. And I'll try to remember that even if we get along better than any mother and daughter in law in the history of the world, there's always going to be a line as to how much advice I can give her

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-58910070598585864722011-01-07T12:40:00.001-05:002011-01-07T12:41:01.927-05:00

I don't usually make a big deal out of trying to make New Year's resolutions, mostly because I know myself too well. I tend to set these big, grandiose plans and then crap out half-way through. Or I don't even start. Then I go through the guilt and all that jazz, and it's just not too much fun. (Also? I know I'm late to the game on the New Year post. Good thing "be a better blogger" was not

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-31052733445472877002011-01-06T10:01:00.002-05:002011-01-06T10:06:47.109-05:00

You know what the funny thing about pregnancy is? That it eventually comes to an end. And you know what awaits you at the end of pregnancy? A kid. I know this seems basic, but after a brief but frightening conversation with my 22 year old brother during which it came out that he had no clue that a woman doesn't get her period during pregnancy, I'm just not sure what everyone knows or doesn't

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-50743716835402311422010-12-31T13:24:00.002-05:002010-12-31T16:06:04.502-05:00

There are some things that I hate, that just irritate me to my very core, and yet I can't stop subjecting myself to them. Like the idiotic comments that people make on news articles and on Yahoo's Shine page. Seriously, many of those comments make me worry for the future of the human race. More specifically, and the point of this post, is that I'm addicted to lists that come out around New

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-31847454921204460512010-12-07T15:07:00.002-05:002010-12-07T15:30:18.018-05:00

Right around Thanksgiving every year, I get all giddy and little-girl excited for the holidays. Since my extended family is so large and since there are so many other people who are far more capable than I, I never have to live in the fear and stress of actually hosting Thanksgiving. Therefore, I'm able to happily bring the rolls and enjoy not having to deep-clean a house in preparation for

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-22504360342541229752010-11-30T12:32:00.001-05:002010-11-30T12:33:39.490-05:00

Ok, I know this is not a celebrity gossip blog. It's supposed to be a blog about how I work and I'm a mom and I write memos and all that. Unfortunately for you all, you are a captive audience (if the word "captive" means that you could literally click the 'x' in the right-hand corner at any time and stop reading the words I write that occasionally form sentences and make sense). Further

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-76523600842023723542010-11-18T12:20:00.002-05:002010-11-18T13:42:28.385-05:00

I've officially earned my Girl Scout badge in throwing 1st birthday parties. And it's not even over yet. I'm earning another one this weekend because it's L's First Birthday: The Sequel on Saturday. And even though The Sequel has not happened yet, I already feel like it's taught me so much about what I did wrong the first time around.Let's briefly recap, and you, too, can learn from my

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-85203071545674001682010-11-16T10:24:00.001-05:002010-11-16T10:25:07.905-05:00

Ok, I confess - I stole the title of this post from an article I saw on Yahoo. I was hoping for a light article about the little things that make us mommies happy, but it turned out to be more serious things about being happy for a husband whose cancer is in remission and coming to terms with/loving your postpartum body. So I thought I would take it upon myself to write about the more trivial

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-80538576451472306782010-11-09T15:14:00.001-05:002010-11-09T15:15:37.642-05:00

I guess it's time for me to face the music. Pregnancy makes me a complete and utter idiot. There are things - old wives' tales, if you will - about pregnancy that I used to believe were either total myths or, at best, self-fulfilling prophecies. Sure, I am hungrier when I am pregnant, but that makes sense. I am growing a person who has nutritional needs of their own, plus I'm burning calories

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-25420977836982862002010-11-04T12:10:00.001-04:002010-11-04T12:11:13.662-04:00

I have been trying and trying all week to get a post up about eating at restaurants with a very active toddler, but I just can't do it! I started writing it on Monday, and have literally returned to it each day since then, trying to add to it and get it finished and posted. And it's not even because it's bad (which is usually why a post would get the fatal categorization of "draft", never to be

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-82440608166984194482010-10-29T11:21:00.000-04:002010-10-29T11:21:22.745-04:00

Over the span of my blogging career (a whole 9 months), I’ve slowly shaped and formed my blog, trying to decide what I wanted it to be.  When I first got started, I got super carried away in the blogging game.  I wanted to be a “famous” blogger who had double-digit comments on each post and advertisers contacting me about wanting to promote their companies and products on my blog.  Then I

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-6325166224566041252010-10-25T09:20:00.001-04:002010-10-25T09:22:30.043-04:00

If I've learned anything about being a mom, I've learned that there is no shortage of things to freak out about. You have to freak out about your precious little prince's (or princess's, as the case may be) diet. (Side note, I am regretting ever naming my child a name that ends in an "s" because I've got absolutely no clue how to make it possessive, and it's made me question how to make any

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-3698793791271163662010-10-21T08:34:00.001-04:002010-10-21T08:34:33.633-04:00

You can call me a lot of things, but when it comes to my tv watching habits, "discerning" would not be an appropriate word. I will watch just about anything. House Hunters? Yes, please. The Real Housewives? Any day, any time. Teen Mom? Oh heck yes. Top Chef? A double helping of that one, if you don't mind. But believe it or not, there are some shows that I simply can't get into. Some

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-89680379289574247782010-10-14T08:29:00.002-04:002010-10-14T08:51:14.187-04:00

Up until yesterday, it was possible that my husband was a wanted man. Get your mind out of the gutter! Not wanted in that way. The last time he was wanted in that way, I ended up pregnant with Le Bebe Patterson, Version 2.0. Since then, there hasn't been much wanting in that department. (Somewhere in Scotland, my dad is burying his head in his hands and wishing he could go back to 10 seconds

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-64109079636770374592010-10-04T15:50:00.001-04:002010-10-04T15:50:43.623-04:00

I'm beginning to wonder if the people who write those monthly update newsletters on the milestones my kid "should" be hitting have actually ever met a kid, let alone a kid my son's age. Every couple of weeks or so, I'm inundated by emails from all the sites I signed up on while I was pregnant. They're all titled something like, "Your Baby: Month 11" or "Your Baby: Week 47". (Am I still

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-68351276356416181762010-09-30T11:00:00.001-04:002010-09-30T11:01:44.828-04:00

In case you have never been pregnant, or in case you've never had a friend or family member who was/is pregnant, I'm going to fill you in on a little something about pregnancy: it is a breeding ground for anxiety; a veritable petri dish for worries and fears and angst. Unfortunately for me and for those who love me most, I am already an anxious person by nature. Over time, I've been able to get

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-10041668789333568722010-09-27T15:51:00.002-04:002010-09-28T10:48:10.351-04:00

Conner (our crazy dog) killed a squirrel this weekend. Wait, let me rephrase that. Conner killed another squirrel this weekend.Since we moved in with my parents in July (barely 3 months ago), Conner has killed two squirrels. I have absolutely no clue how he did this. He's no stranger to chasing squirrels by any means. At our "old" house, he chased them all the time. (D hates it when I call

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-17079240605157209952010-09-23T09:24:00.001-04:002010-09-23T09:28:57.178-04:00

I love my husband. He's my matching puzzle piece. Sometimes when I see or talk to other guys, I think to myself, "Man, I'm so glad I married D instead. I could never deal with xyz about that other dude." Or, an even more grateful thought: "Man, I'm so glad I married D. Pretty sure that other dude would never be able to put up with me." There's lots of things D is good at. He's good at being

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-8530224020194884042010-09-20T09:59:00.001-04:002010-09-20T10:17:03.552-04:00

Dear Secretary of State,I'm sorry to say this, but I kind-of hate you. You're like the person whose phone number I keep in my phone simply so I'll know not to answer when you call. And just when I think you've gotten the message, right around my birthday you like to check in to make sure I still remember you.You want me to remember that I owe you money for my car tabs, and I suppose that's fine

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-81001995244073668122010-09-15T11:30:00.002-04:002010-09-15T11:50:36.382-04:00

I don't like being smacked, scratched, punched, clawed or bitten. I don't think I'm alone in this. But apparently I am alone in the fact that I didn't really think that all these acts of physical violence come with the territory of motherhood.Side note: Why is it that becoming a mom has made me feel like even more of a baby dummy than I was before I had kids? All this stuff I never knew that

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-1026771072537948992010-09-07T11:26:00.003-04:002010-09-28T10:55:34.226-04:00

Sometimes I think my world would be a better place if everyone would just lower their expectations of me. And I totally don't mean that in a cynical or emo way at all. It's just something I've been thinking about lately. I guess having a baby makes you think about all sorts of things you'd never think about otherwise. But I was thinking about it this morning after I dropped L off at daycare.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-80546281621584555672010-09-02T09:06:00.001-04:002010-09-02T09:08:22.542-04:00

Whew. It's been a week. And it's only Thursday. I am happy to report that L is officially recovered. But it was a tough road getting there. After The Worst Night of My Life on Sunday, L was still not himself. We were coming at the fever from all ends, with both Motrin and Tylenol (as recommended by the ER doc), and it seemed like it was just barely enough. We were keeping the fever away by

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-30979081256461127022010-08-30T13:19:00.002-04:002010-08-30T13:28:59.673-04:00

I think I can safely say that last night was one of the worst nights of my life. Definitely one of the scariest. L has been having a rough month, health-wise. He had a very high fever (101-103 degrees) at the beginning of August, but no other symptoms. I took him to the doctor, and he advised me to just give him Tylenol and cool baths and monitor the situation, that there was really nothing

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-9773775968666587002010-08-27T10:07:00.002-04:002010-08-27T10:18:29.553-04:00

It's taken a lot of deep, cleansing breaths to get myself to the point where I feel able to write this post. I don't know if you were ever like me, but when I was a kid, I would much rather have had my parents angry at me than disappointed in me. If they were angry, it was almost always something fleeting and minor: I left my empty cup on the coffee table for the umpteenth time; I had 2 zillion

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-64920455162522666502010-08-24T13:21:00.002-04:002010-08-24T13:25:36.147-04:00

Today, something monumental happened. Today is the day I became a mom. I know that might be a little confusing, seeing as how L is going on 10 months now and I've got another one baking in the oven. But none of that matters anymore because today, my friends, is the day I purchased....THE MINIVAN (duh duh DUN).That's right, I am now officially a mom. With my Mom Mobile. And I gotta tell you,

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-29055101613717396052010-08-23T15:59:00.001-04:002010-08-23T17:14:14.405-04:00

I feel like one of the sweetest, most secret pleasures of parenthood that no one ever talks about is being out in public with your child and realizing that he is much better behaved than the other children around you. I know comparing is wrong, we shouldn't judge other people - especially children, etc. etc. But any parent who tells you that they don't mentally stack their kids' behavior up

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-53162232419383149282010-08-18T12:28:00.001-04:002010-08-18T14:16:41.799-04:00

I went by the house yesterday, for the first time since the tenants moved in. Let me tell you, it was weird. I went by after work because they had texted me that we had some mail over there. I left my office, and it was so strange taking the same route I used to take on my way home. I had to keep reminding myself that I wasn't going "home" because, even though it's still our house, it's

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-65057250853188551042010-08-16T13:21:00.000-04:002010-08-16T13:21:26.887-04:00

Well, apparently the only purpose my blog serves these days is to be a grounds for venting.  Sorry.   I'm a little bit irritated that people seem to think they have a right to know all the details about this pregnancy.  I really don't mind talking about most of it, and in true over-sharer form, I usually enjoy it.  But the one thing that's really rubbing me the wrong way is the incredibly

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-36172238483598037972010-08-12T14:15:00.000-04:002010-08-12T14:15:15.788-04:00

I recently went to the mall because I'm trying to find a knock-out dress for my cousin's wedding in September.  I did not plan on being pregnant at this wedding.  Pretty much since my cousin was engaged, the word was put out that there would be a premium bar at the reception.  This was exciting for me because I never get premium anything, not even gas for my car.  So top-shelf liquor on someone

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-86782757920413386872010-08-09T08:43:00.000-04:002010-08-09T08:43:15.916-04:00

It's been a while since I've been on my soapbox, and it was starting to get really lonely and afraid that I hated it, so I'm going to pull it out and hop on for a while. I just read an article that really, really pissed me off.  Well, the article itself did not piss me off, but the phrase it introduced me to did: "Weekend Mom".  This term, apparently, is made to apply to all mothers who work

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-24301006827631938962010-08-06T14:05:00.000-04:002010-08-06T14:05:40.097-04:00

I forgot what it was like to be pregnant.  It's hard.  It's even harder with a very active and mobile 9 month old who has suddenly decided that he never, ever again wants to spend longer than 5 seconds on his back, which makes it really hard to change his diaper or put clothes on him.  What I wouldn't give for him to have an ounce of reason and logic, so I could just be like, "Listen, kid. 

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-8927888799885270332010-08-04T09:38:00.000-04:002010-08-04T09:38:53.145-04:00

Sorry for the late post.  I wanted to write my family reunion post yesterday morning, but L got all sick and feverish Monday evening and it just got worse yesterday.  He topped out at a 103 degree fever, and I spent my day cuddling him, comforting him and taking him to the doctor.   Thankfully, he just has a virus and should be ok.  I will admit, a tiny piece of me loved all the snuggles.  I know

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-91191681254198753662010-07-28T14:16:00.001-04:002010-07-28T14:19:09.256-04:00

I have come to the unfortunate realization that, between D and I, I am the more difficult person to live with. This really shakes up the normal stereotype of a couple, where the wife is the one always putting up with her husband's quirks, patiently (and sometimes not so patiently) and lovingly doting on him as he muddles his way through life while she stands by, the rock who is always right.Now

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-86447194257898588912010-07-26T15:27:00.002-04:002010-07-26T15:33:13.018-04:00

Just as soon as I finish telling you how I won't be posting much, I post. That's how I keep you all coming back - just have to keep you guessing! But really, this post is because I need to get something off my chest. And it's not even the rant I've been dying to write about the girls I sat behind in church yesterday who wore shorts so short that they would more qualify as bathing suit bottoms

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-50213114212044559232010-07-26T09:20:00.000-04:002010-07-26T09:20:29.776-04:00

It's definitely getting to be the busiest time of the year for me, job-wise.  Things are insane at work, and when things get insane at work, they always seem to get insane at home as well.  In keeping with that, this weekend is the big Family Reunion.  So that should provide for some fun posts.  Or at least one.   But anyway, the point of this is that I don't have much time to write right now. 

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-38722493257500894022010-07-21T14:52:00.000-04:002010-07-21T14:52:05.677-04:00

You know how when you're about to get your period and you turn into a raging lunatic and everyone around you is afraid to breathe the wrong way for fear that you will kill them in their sleep with a dull spoon and a severe verbal lashing?  (Please tell me this isn't just me.)  That's an example of hormones.  Hormones are no joke.  I am seriously thinking about starting a petition to make

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-11153362724994497252010-07-20T10:02:00.000-04:002010-07-20T10:02:45.892-04:00

As if there are any other types of dilemmas these days.  Don't know why I'd expect an easier dilemma since I'm now a grown-up, but a girl can dream.   I'm very blessed that my job pays very well - way above average for the position I currently hold.  I also have unbelievably good benefits that I don't pay a dime for.  I promise I'm not trying to brag.  The pay and benefits are actually like the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-15449254004485159432010-07-19T09:56:00.002-04:002010-09-28T12:08:02.316-04:00

Guilt as a parent is inescapable. I've actually gotten pretty good at brushing things off and realizing that different people do things different ways, but sometimes that guilt just finds a way to fight through and stab relentlessly at your brain. Today is my Mommy's Day Off. I have been planning this for months. I had L scheduled to go to daycare, and I had made plans to get a manicure, go

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-29624230958755372312010-07-17T09:15:00.001-04:002010-07-17T09:20:50.174-04:00

If you're not my friend on facebook, then this news will be new for you. If you are my friend on facebook, this won't be news, but you might still be in shock so it might seem new because of all the shock you're in.That's right, kids. I'm pregnant. Again. "But Katie!" you might be shouting. "Didn't you just have a baby 8 months ago??" Why, yes. Yes, I did. And now, I'll have two babies.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-21833606704607086242010-07-14T10:20:00.000-04:002010-07-14T10:20:28.391-04:00

In a couple weeks, we will be taking L to his first-ever family reunion at my parents' "farm" house (there are no farm animals on this property, yet we call it "the farm" anyway).  Well, he went to one last summer but he was in utero and decidedly less needy back then.  Back in the day, when I used to write Facebook notes instead of blog posts, I wrote about the trials of taking the dog to his

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-19664988007440356762010-07-12T08:53:00.001-04:002010-07-12T08:56:08.584-04:00

I've always wanted to be half of one of those couples who sit and read the paper together every Sunday. I don't know what it is about reading the paper that appeals to me so much, but I always envisioned lazy mornings of taking turns with the different sections of the paper, then discussing the current events together after we were finished.Sadly, D's idea of reading the paper is skimming his

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-17115464478570997492010-07-09T09:31:00.003-04:002010-07-09T09:45:53.663-04:00

If you're new here, thanks for reading! You can find out why we're renting our house out by starting with this post and working your way back up. So glad to have you here! It's as official as you can get without actually being official: we've rented our house. Finally, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. We've made it through showing after showing after showing, offer after offer after

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-64321989090591306232010-07-07T08:33:00.000-04:002010-07-07T08:33:35.301-04:00

On Monday, I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to go down to Ohio and visit one of my best friends from college, Barb (which is not her real name, but I do actually call her Barb for reasons I will not go into here).  It was a three hour trip, and I brought L with me to meet Barb's almost-6-month-old daughter.   Since L's favorite past-time of late has been screaming his lolly little

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-90747560281302137872010-07-01T10:44:00.003-04:002010-07-01T11:45:56.872-04:00

Well, we're nearing the end of the first week living with my parents. It's been pretty ok, actually. But maybe it's because we're in the phase like when you first are dating someone and you don't want to start anything so you tread softly until you figure out how they work. I've been keeping a mental tally of the pros and cons so far. Please to enjoy.Pros- Two more people living in the house

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-41616899936908574212010-06-29T11:22:00.000-04:002010-06-29T11:22:35.789-04:00

My dad is a woodworker and furniture builder.  He's super talented and makes the most beautiful stuff.  He has an impressive workshop in the basement, and D is almost drooling with excitement over the fact that he'll be able to use all my dad's tools for the next year.   But this perk, like most pros, has a con.  The con is that the workshop takes up a majority of the basement, leaving little

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-67261651177148374102010-06-28T08:05:00.001-04:002010-06-28T08:12:11.070-04:00

Friday and Saturday were two of the most stressful days I've had in a long while. And I know I'm prone to exaggeration, but I'm seriously not exaggerating one iota, here. Not even a smidgen. And also, a note to The Plan: YOU SUCK. You suck because you lulled me into feeling prepared for this move. You suck because you made me feel like I was working hard. You suck because you lied. I was

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-90864515306332818572010-06-23T08:48:00.000-04:002010-06-23T08:48:21.245-04:00

Showing your house is like going on a first date.  I hope they like me.  I hope I like them.  I hope they're not creepers.  I hope they don't smell.  What if they don't like me?  Nonsense, how could they not like me?  I am spacious, have all-new kitchen appliances and an updated bathroom. We showed our house for the first time last night, and it was nerve-wracking.  Up to this point, our realtor

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-76109688391592900232010-06-21T08:49:00.000-04:002010-06-21T08:49:10.420-04:00

Father's Day is tomorrow, but by the time I post this, it will be Monday.  So to me, I am not tardy to the party.  To you, I missed the boat.  Either way, here's my ode to D. D, you are: My best friend and husband.  One of the few non-family members who have seen all my true colors and love me because (and sometimes in spite) of them. The father of our son, the baby whom everyone calls your

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-81713662098721491382010-06-17T08:34:00.000-04:002010-06-17T08:34:27.279-04:00

I am learning lots from packing up the house.  (I am also learning that I like writing posts in list form because I don't have to utilize transitions as much and it saves me a lot of time and effort.  Rock on, lists.) 1.  Packing an entire box full of canned food is a bad idea.  One can: light.  Fifty cans: heavy. 2.  Spices are expensive, yet I have at least 4 half-used containers of parsley, 3

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-57213458241133754072010-06-16T09:41:00.001-04:002010-06-16T09:47:44.226-04:00

If I'm ever fortunate enough to have a secretary, I'm pretty sure I'll be the most awesome boss ever. For one thing, I'll call her whatever she wants to be called. Secretary? Sure. Assistant? You got it. Queen of the Office Who Always Makes Me Look Good and Saves My Butt at Every Turn? Absolutely. Because every secretary knows that for the most part, it doesn't matter what you're called

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-52553679253091042452010-06-15T08:28:00.000-04:002010-06-15T08:28:28.155-04:00

Father's Day is almost upon me, and I am somewhat less than prepared. This is SO unlike me.  I am always thinking about the next gift-giving holiday at least a month in advance.  I love giving presents, especially when it is for a holiday where mushy, sentimental gifts are in order.   It's not like I haven't been thinking about Father's Day.  Quite the contrary.  I've actually been thinking

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-52519460626056371392010-06-11T12:04:00.000-04:002010-06-11T12:04:13.166-04:00

You guys, The Plan is turning out to be a real a-hole.  It's like a robot or machine or Terminator or something that I created who has now gotten smarter than me and is using me as a slave.  I know The Plan is for my own good, I really do.  And I know it's good that I created The Plan, because every night I've had to spatula my broken body off the couch to satisfy my portion of The Plan.  If it

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-76863681596996502012010-06-09T10:42:00.001-04:002010-06-09T20:04:50.454-04:00

I've been such a delinquent blogger these days.  I'm not sure if you know this, but packing up a house is insane amounts of work.   D and I had it easy when we moved into our house.  We both came from our respective parents' houses, and didn't move in until after our wedding.  Everything was new and in boxes already because they were all wedding and shower gifts.  I didn't know at the time, but

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-72730749227166531762010-06-05T16:29:00.000-04:002010-06-05T16:29:19.027-04:00

Do you remember that time when you were married for 2.5 years, had a 7 month old baby and moved back into your parents' house by choice?  No?  Must just be me then.      Yes, it's true.  D, L and I are renting out our house and moving in with my parents, hopefully at the end of June.  You may be wondering why in the world we would do this.   The answer is because D and I have decided to become

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-2663357846251830652010-06-02T12:38:00.000-04:002010-06-02T12:38:03.182-04:00

I'm obviously back from D.C., seeing as how it's already Wednesday and everything, but I've yet to make a full recovery.  I'm much better today than I was yesterday, but still, I'm feeling the effects of pretending to be in college again.  Apparently my body isn't what it used to be.  Or maybe it's my life that isn't what it used to be.  Either way, I can no longer burn the candle at both ends

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-5971877563735335642010-05-31T09:51:00.001-04:002010-05-31T09:52:58.440-04:00

I'll be writing a post about my awesome weekend for tomorrow or Wednesday, but I just had to write a quickie about Memorial Day. Yesterday at the airport, as I was walking towards the security check-point, I saw a family saying goodbye to their son/brother, who was dressed in a service uniform. I'm not sure what branch he was in, but I'd guess he was a Marine. I tried not to watch as his

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-57808098479232189202010-05-27T09:23:00.001-04:002010-05-27T09:38:58.212-04:00

I am a Craigslist nut. I love to search for great deals or sometimes even browse the writing/editing jobs in case some amazing company is in the market for a person who wants to work from home and make $80,000+ per year on a part-time basis with an almost 3-year-old Journalism degree that has never been used.I've been known to sell things on CL, too. I sold the lanterns I used in my wedding

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-45909604033964618742010-05-26T09:09:00.000-04:002010-05-26T09:09:42.479-04:00

I'm going out of town for a wedding this weekend.  Just me.  All by myself.  Without D.  Without L.   I used to do this kind of thing all the time.  All my college BFFs are scattered about the country, so it was not unusual for me to pack up and ship out to wherever the wedding was happening.  D somehow always had to work over these weekends, so I'd always just go by myself and have a good old

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-75090421677514298752010-05-24T08:27:00.000-04:002010-05-24T08:27:38.985-04:00

Ask any wife if she'd rather be sick herself or deal with a sick husband, and I suspect you'll get a few moments of hesitation, followed by an admission that she'd rather suffer than have her husband be sick.  And it's not really because us wives are noble and honorable and completely selfless, although that may be part of it.  It's because men are awful when they are sick.  Awful.   D is no

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-34119490760326712402010-05-20T09:23:00.000-04:002010-05-20T09:23:01.893-04:00

You know the old saying, "Experience is the best teacher"?  Well, I choose to live my life in blatant defiance of that adage.  That's right, Experience.  You can take your righteous wisdom and go jump off a cliff.   I don't need you.  I prefer to live life on my own terms, exercising the same behavior over and over again and expecting different results one of these times.  (In fact, I am bound

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-459992521514260732010-05-18T08:28:00.001-04:002010-05-18T08:28:18.479-04:00

I'm a huge worrier. I don't worry about a ton of things, but when I worry about something, I give it 110%. Why do anything half-way, right? See the list below, and please don't make fun of me too much. 1 - I am deathly afraid of someone breaking into my house when I am home alone at night. I used to be afraid of them breaking in and hurting me, but now I'm afraid of them breaking in and I'll

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-18049553690878046502010-05-14T09:30:00.001-04:002010-05-14T09:31:09.416-04:00

One of the things I love the very best about being a mommy is watching L develop and grow into his own person every day. This is going to sound totally psycho but please don't judge. Blame it on me being a first-timer. When L was first born and at home with us, I was unconsciously relating him to a dog. I love our dog C, and was border-line obsessed with him before L came. Dogs were all I

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-89867088455852555112010-05-13T08:25:00.001-04:002010-05-13T08:42:52.078-04:00

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that DV-R is the best invention ever. I used to have all kinds of space in my brain to remember which shows were on what night, but now all that extremely useful knowledge has been pushed aside so there is room for me to juggle who is watching L on what day. (And all I have to say about that is thank God for the calendar that has L's daycare info written in

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-2965192120064449322010-05-11T11:11:00.002-04:002010-05-11T12:08:53.144-04:00

I know you should never. ever. EVER say what you will or won't do as a parent. I've tiptoed around this a bit before, but I've always tried to not be judgemental of other parenting methods or theories, especially since I'm still fresh off the new parent boat. And you know how I am, so shy and modest and reserved with my opinions. And I'm sure it will be absolutely shocking to you that I'm

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-37893850545630881152010-05-11T08:20:00.001-04:002010-05-11T11:04:43.815-04:00

What do you think of my new blog design?  Totally cool, right?  I'm way pumped to have my very own custom design, it makes me feel so official!  Hang in here with me, as we're still working out some kinks.  I'll be putting up my real post a little bit later today, so stay tuned!    Edited to add:  What a nerd I am!  I forgot to thank Barbie at Enchanted Memories on Etsy for this awesome design.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-63781181443113434542010-05-07T09:40:00.001-04:002010-05-07T09:43:25.485-04:00

Hopefully you are all aware that it is Mother's Day on Sunday. Hopefully you have planned in advance what you are going to do/get for your mom, just like D, whom I suspect will be doing a little running around today while I'm at work. (One of my favorite bloggers has suggested that there should be a "sarcasm" font, and I wish there was, too. That last sentence would have been written in it.)

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-54403139310760268192010-05-06T09:08:00.000-04:002010-05-06T09:08:06.992-04:00

I know it sounds weird but I was really looking forward to the work conference I just returned from.  It's awesome to get out of the office and hang out with my counterparts from around the state.  Every year it's done in a different part of the state, and this year it was (awesomely) held approximately 5 minutes from my work.  The even awesomer part is that every single attendee is entitled to

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-4759240271061868692010-05-04T07:31:00.000-04:002010-05-04T07:31:23.880-04:00

Want to know a secret? I write these posts in advance. Maybe not a secret, since I've already told you that I think. But that secret is applicable today because I'll be at a work conference today and tomorrow (Tuesday and Wednesday), rendering me unable to write. Soooo here I sit, Monday night and you know what? I'm going to write today's posts right now. But I'll post it tomorrow morning (

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-17929893974846036802010-05-03T08:35:00.000-04:002010-05-03T08:35:05.581-04:00

I can sometimes be a bit of a bleeding heart - I'm a seriously emotional person.  If you were at my wedding you know this, because I cried through half of it (seriously).  Sometimes I cringe at how much I cried that day, but when it comes down to it, I was really, really happy and PMSing hard core.  The perfect storm (which I think might be my new favorite phrase, so look out because I'll

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-18202585539721815962010-04-30T08:18:00.001-04:002010-05-01T22:15:52.271-04:00

Are you sick of me talking about bathing suits yet? I know, I'm sorry, I promise to be more original next week. But I just had to share day 2 of the bathing suit mission.I know I bought a suit the other day, but when I got home and tried it on again, I wasn't convinced. It didn't help much when I asked D if it was "too booby" and he said, "NO!" and I said, "I think it is, I'm going to return

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-59391508845527929372010-04-29T08:31:00.001-04:002010-04-29T08:35:56.668-04:00

I've written before that I plan to just get over myself and buy a bathing suit and not worry about my flaws. Easier said than done, folks. When I wrote that, I was happily (and fully) covered by yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Actually putting on a bathing suit is a whole different story.It's not even really fair because bathing suit season, in my mind, doesn't officially start until June. But L

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-15156560029415710422010-04-28T08:28:00.000-04:002010-04-28T08:28:52.393-04:00

I literally cannot bring myself to post what I had written for today.  It is awful.  I was going to post it for the sake of having something to post, but I just can't do it.  Ugh.  I just got shivers thinking about posting it.  It's that bad.   I am having some serious writer's block these days!  The problem with the post is not the topic (the fact that I'm addicted to pregnancy tests; I know,

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-69872908081038231822010-04-27T08:11:00.000-04:002010-04-27T08:11:57.386-04:00

We need to talk about something.  Boys, once again I'm going to be oversharing so take this time to scatter if you're uncomfortable.  We need to talk about post-pregnancy PMS and periods.  (I like to call it AF, short for Aunt Flo, so now you know what my short-hand means.)  We need to talk about the fact that no one warned me that my post-baby PMS and AFs would turn me into a raging B.  We

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-76057998715646422352010-04-26T08:37:00.000-04:002010-04-26T08:37:49.394-04:00

If you've read just one or two of my blog posts, it's no secret to you that I'm not exactly a neat freak. I like things neat, I just don't like to do the work to get them that way. I laugh now, because before L was born, I always used to say that I didn't clean because "I didn't have time." Now I would love to go visit my past self, kick her in the rear and yell in her face, "SERIOUSLY?!?!"

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-52932276286447237012010-04-23T09:18:00.001-04:002010-04-23T09:58:03.370-04:00

So I realized that like 1/3 of my posts start out with something like "this isn't like my usual posts." This makes me wonder if I have a "usual" style of post? If 33.333333333% of my posts are not like the others, this barely qualifies the other 66.66666666666666% of posts as "usual." But, majority rules, so.....this isn't like my usual post! :-)Anyway, I'm so excited about a new project I

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-72172031927387773742010-04-22T08:46:00.000-04:002010-04-22T08:46:02.741-04:00

Well, it's been a week.  And it's not over yet.  So please excuse me if this post sucks because I'm sitting here writing it with literally no clue where this will go.  I almost didn't even write a post for today, but then I decided that I can and should do this.  I'll just have to dig deep for the funny.  And the point.  I'm sure you can all relate to the kind of week this has been  The kind

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-50572098046263894162010-04-21T08:29:00.001-04:002010-04-21T08:32:26.884-04:00

One of my best friends in the whole world is the full-length mirror in what is now L's room. It used to be the "guest room" but if we're being honest, it was really my dressing room. It was also the room where I'd go to hide from D for a bit so I could read. I don't know what it is about me reading, but it triggers memories of all the conversations D has ever wanted to have with me but forgot.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-86504036506131134842010-04-20T08:02:00.002-04:002010-04-20T08:27:21.254-04:00

I've been trying to figure out Twitter for a couple weeks now, and I still can't bring myself to get into it. I don't have a ton of followers, which I can't say I'm too broken up about. So if I have something witty or pithy to say about what I'm doing, I really don't feel like wasting it on Twitter. So I just post it on facebook where everyone knows my name and loves me and appreciates my humor.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-107292216306785912010-04-19T08:26:00.002-04:002010-04-19T08:33:30.899-04:00

One of the things I was most afraid of when I was pregnant was that I would lose myself in the process of becoming a mom. Though, if you would have asked me during my pregnancy, I wouldn't have been able to articulate that nearly as concisely. When I was pregnant, I couldn't see the forest through the trees and would have listed a litany of small fears if you asked what I was afraid of. I was

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-35296255233175578052010-04-16T18:17:00.001-04:002010-04-16T18:18:24.036-04:00

Well, I'm very happy and excited to announce that the winner of the amazing giveaway from Erin at Elm Studios on etsy is my very own cousin Allison! I promise there was no family bias here, Random.org did the picking for me! Congrats Al, I'll talk to you soon about how to claim your winnings.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-56668549362805123032010-04-15T12:02:00.000-04:002010-04-15T12:02:27.256-04:00

Whenever I use Listerine, I always think about how much it sucks.  If there are any wounds in my mouth (which there usually are because I somehow always manage to bite my lip while I'm eating something delicious, therefore decreasing the over-all enjoyment of the delicious something), the Listerine exacerbates the pain by a margin of 20.  And since I use Listerine only when it's time for me to go

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-59129452763366798542010-04-14T08:20:00.000-04:002010-04-14T08:20:49.896-04:00

Guess what guys? I got a sponsor to do a giveaway with my blog! Erin from Elm Studios on Etsy kindly agreed to give one of her beautiful creations away to a reader of mine! I know all bloggers say this about sponsors that do giveaways on their blogs, but I am genuinely jealous of whoever wins this one. I am so, so super excited about this. I stumbled across her store because I was looking

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-53693306436430383212010-04-13T09:25:00.000-04:002010-04-13T09:30:59.498-04:00

Yesterday was crazy. For starters, it was a Monday, which is hardly ever an indicator that my day is going to be awesome. Lawn season has started which means life in my family is much more complicated than usual. This is the first year we're embarking on lawn season with baby in the mix, and I sense that it will be challenging. Work has been so busy and stressful, and I kept thinking last

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-69625147386527837362010-04-12T12:11:00.001-04:002010-04-12T12:16:02.187-04:00

I'm proud to announce that my first giveaway has officially ended with a winner! I used Random.org to make it fair and square, and the winner is comment #4, Nicole! Congrats girl, and thanks for supporting my blog! Email me your address at memosfromaworkingmom@gmail.com and tell me where you want your gift card from! To all you non-winners who support my blog, stay tuned because I'm thinking I

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-41097341469859769202010-04-12T08:27:00.000-04:002010-04-12T08:27:57.966-04:00

I consider myself a relatively nice person.  I try to be friendly and polite, especially to strangers and employees I come  into contact with when I'm out trying to get things done.  In the past, you might have been able to accurately refer to me as a pushover.  But in the last few years, I've been able to better draw the line between friendly and doormat. Yesterday, that line was pushed around

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-81612638937234805642010-04-09T09:30:00.001-04:002010-04-09T09:49:11.567-04:00

To all my usual readers, this post is for something called The Ultimate Blog Party. It's a way for mommy bloggers to connect and network. To participate, I have to write a "Party Post" to introduce myself to other mommy bloggers who will see my blog through this networking opportunity. I also have to put a sticky link at the top of my blog so people can find my "Party Post" easily. So this is

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-70230899315613662932010-04-09T08:20:00.000-04:002010-04-09T09:01:28.235-04:00

Ok, I need to take a quick departure from the norm for a sec. I am having a lot of feelings that I really need to express. ("She doesn't even go to this school!" "Do you even go here?" "No, I just have a lot of feelings." Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? [Two movie references in one set of parenthesis. And two sets of parenthesis. How is it possible to be that awesome?]) What I want to say is

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-8290817401947026432010-04-08T11:58:00.000-04:002010-04-08T11:58:35.621-04:00

Well, I'm going to try this.  Even with only 17 followers.  I have 104 fans on facebook, thank you very much, so hopefully some of you strong but silent lovers of my blog will come forth to win a little giveaway goodness.  I'm going to try to make this easy, and give you as many ways as possible to win.  But first, the juicy details.  This giveaway is simple.  While I'm still relatively unknown

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-45166158506725967072010-04-07T16:05:00.001-04:002010-04-08T08:29:47.017-04:00

After L was born, D and I really started to hate nighttime. We started calling it dread-time (or going to dread) instead of going to bed because of how much we hated it. It would have been one thing if we would be able to go to bed knowing that L would wake up at X time. At least then we'd be able to play the whole, "If I go to sleep now I'll get 3 hours of sleep" game. I contest that that

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-28058975932858704592010-04-07T08:59:00.000-04:002010-04-07T08:59:35.163-04:00

**Note to all people who are sensitive, extremely modest or boys: this post discusses aspects of my post-baby body in some detail.  And if you aren't scared off by that then: MENSTRUAL CYCLE!!!!!!!** Now that all the guys have left this post, I can carry on. If you've been paying attention to my blog even remotely, it probably hasn't escaped your attention that I have been having a love-hate

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4484726138370289413.post-40067752671689730192010-04-06T10:55:00.000-04:002010-04-06T10:59:46.786-04:00

If you've ever met me, even just briefly, you are probably aware of my ::ahem:: appreciation of reality tv, "celebrities" and celeb gossip. It's probably border-line unhealthy, but it keeps me young and hip (are the kids still saying "hip" these days? Maybe I should have said "groovy"?). One of my guiltiest pleasures is the Real Housewives series on Bravo. It truly is a hot mess of a show, full

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01110455717496827770noreply@blogger.com1