Always late but worth the wait

Wow. Has it really been three months since I last blogged? This is both highly unacceptable and highly unbelievable. Where has the time gone? The last three months have gone by so fast, and so much has happened since my last post. . .

First off, I turned 30 in April (insert giddy exclamation marks here). Overall the experience was a little underwhelming. I guess I assumed that turning 30 meant undergoing some giant epiphany about life and the future and all those "adult" things you see in movies. But let's be honest, I pretty much have life figured out so there were no new lessons learned. All I found out is that Swiss fondue really is my favorite dinner food (nom nom) and I can't get enough of fresh fruit tarts (another double nom). My parents surprised me with a nice Canon Rebel camera as a birthday present since I've been wanting one to take more professional-quality pics once the bébé arrives, and J bought me a little gold feather "freebird" necklace from Nordstroms that I've wanted. I was a little worried (read: ready to punch him in the face) that J wouldn't be spending my birthday with me since he had a trial set that week and had been staying up late every night leading up to April preparing his case, but luckily the case settled the week before my 30th so all was copacetic in our household. Thirtieth birthdays, after all, only come once in a lifetime.

Know what else comes once in a lifetime? (Well, once if you're lucky?) Five-year wedding anniversaries. . . which is what J and I will be celebrating on July 20th!! I can't believe it's already been five years since we tied the knot, but I guess you know you're in love when five years feels like five days. We don't have anything planned at the moment (although let's face it, a trip to Italy would be divine -- and also completely unrealistic), but we'll probably spend it picnicking in Napa for the day, maybe eat at a nice restaurant that night. I really have no clue and for the first time that I can remember, it doesn't bother me. Who am I? It's funny: The older I get, all I care about is just spending quality time with him. We don't need to do anything extravagant for me to be happy. Some of my favorite times with J are holding hands in the car on our way somewhere, or lying on a blanket together in a park. Sometimes it all feels too perfect, like I'll wake up one day without him and find out it never happened. But then I wonder why can't some love stories be nearly perfect? For right now it is and it has been and I hope it stays that way till we're into our 90s. For now just looking over at him reading before we fall asleep is all it takes to make me smile:

Aside from home remodeling, the past few months I've been busy writing and am happy to report that I've just hit about 100 pages into my newest book idea. I don't know whether it's all these extra hormones flying off me or maybe bébé is my new muse, but I feel a rush of creativity and I suddenly have the daily motivation to do something about it. Strange, right? When I'm not writing I want to be drawing or painting or doing something creative. It's a wonderful feeling, and I'm so appreciative that I have the freedom to do as much or as little as I want of all of this on an everyday basis. No excuses.

In other news, bébé is set to arrive in five and a half weeks! My hunt for Peter Rabbit-themed decor has petered out like a deflated fart over the last few months, so I decided to go with a French Garden theme for the nursery and it's coming along well. We put her crib together a couple weeks ago and bought her a little bassinet to sleep in by our bed after she's born. J also hung a crystal chandelier for me in the center of the nursery, giving the room a very French feel, and he was hard at work yesterday stripping a cute little French cabinet I found at a consignment store recently. The cabinet is an ugly walnut color now (think Grandma furniture on steroids), but we plan to antique it and give it a very Restoration Hardware feel. It'll go perfectly next to her crib. :D Once I'm done with the nursery I'll post pics.

And finally, (in case you're wondering what I look now) here's my burgeoning bump: 

So far this pregnancy has been beyond smooth in the sailing department. I've had no sickness, I'm not that exhausted, I have yet to waddle and so far I've gained just under 20 pounds. Pregnancy, it seems, really agrees with me.

There's something in my bed...

"Don't mind me, I'm just cuddling with my Snoogle," I told J a few days ago after we arrived home from BuyBuyBaby with my newest purchase in hand. After unwrapping the thing, it was love at first hug. The Snoogle is one of those total body pregnancy pillow things that looks more like a prop from a Gwar concert than an actual pillow:


Scary, right? But desperate times call for desperate measures. At this point I'm no no longer supposed to "lie on my back," since doing so supposedly cuts off nutrients and other things to Peanut by compressing my "vena cava" (whatever that is), according to my maternity book/bible Your Pregnancy: Week-by-Week. So, in order to avoid waking up on my back in the middle of the night and freaking out over visuals that Peanut is somehow suffocating in my tummy, one little unformed hand on its throat with the other unformed hand helplessly clutching out into the murky depths of my womb for help, I opted to rely on a Snoogle to do all the propping up for me.

The pillow comes with no directions, just a few pictures on the packaging that show you just how versatile it is:


And the first night was bliss. I assumed you were supposed to loop that curly-q end between your knees with your back snuggled in against the pillow, which I did and it was fabulous. I woke up feeling great, and not minding so much that I spent the entire night sleeping on my side. Then night two rolled around.

Sure, the thing was a little awkward to use at first since the hooked end more wants to poke you in the butt than it does want to stay between your legs, but the worst is turning on to your other side to bear hug the thing. This entails you un-entwining your legs from the massive hook between them, which promptly begins poking at your crotch as you try to flip over to face the Snoogle. After a few nights of this I finally understood what it must feel like to wrestle with a jellyfish, albeit under a down comforter and while I'm wearing flannel chihuahua print pajama pants (both not conducive to easy-flipping-over action).

Like a once-exciting fling who now bored me, the Snoogle seemed to have outlived its welcome in my bed. I had just started taking to propping myself up against J when I did some research online yesterday and realized that I was approaching the Snoogle all wrong -- I had been using it upside down the entire time. No wonder it never felt right; I had been outsmarted by a tube of polyester. When I realized how to use the pillow right I couldn't help but think of the opening scene of 2001: A Space Odyssey, but instead of throwing a bone high into the air in slow motion, the Snoogle would be hurled up in its place.

Anyway, hopefully now I'll get a proper night's sleep, since the old back is starting to hurt the and the bump is beginning to show as I'm about to hit the halfway point in this pregnancy!