New Jersey is holding my rocking chair hostage

The very first pregnancy/baby item we purchased was a rocking chair. I was thrilled.

As per my usual thrifty self, I planned to find one on Craig's List. For me the rocking chair is an important purchase. I wanted a comfortable chair to rock Joey. I wanted a nice footstool where I could put my feet up. And, with the surge of hormones, I felt pretty darn maternal and a rocking chair seems as maternal as it gets.

So, I looked and looked and looked on Craig's List and finally found a chair that I thought I liked. About this time, Josh reminded me that we had a ton of Pottery Barn gift cards left over from our wedding 5 1/2 years ago that we'd never spent.

I had forgotten about them. At the time, I agonized about what we should buy. I came really close to buying a rug but was indecisive. I decided to ponder the purchase to make sure I REALLY wanted the rug. Days turned into weeks into months and years. We never bought the rug.

So, with all that free money burning a hole in our pockets, we decided to use the gift cards to buy a rocking chair.

We went to Pottery Barn.

We sat in all the chairs.

We debated the merits of rocker vs glider. BIG CHOICES

We both loved the beautiful wingback rocking chair and bought it with a dozen wedding gift cards.

Since February, I've been waiting and waiting and waiting for my chair.

Finally, March 21st I got an email that said the chair and ottoman were on their way!!!!

Happy Day!

But heres the sad part. My rocking chair has been in New Jersey since March 24th. Almost 3 weeks.

I am not sure why it is there but I am beginning to believe that New Jersey is holding my chair hostage.
So I say:

Dear New Jersey,
Give me my chair. Please.
Respectfully and with the slightest irritation,

Amy

PS - If it is ever liberated, I will post pictures of my wonderful chair.

the tiniest wine

Today I found myself thinking about a glass of prosecco and sweet figs

...perhaps that means the nausea will pass

...perhaps I am feeling the pull of blue skies and the distant call of summer

...perhaps that means I have been pregnant for far too long

...perhaps I hear the distant promise of August

Until then, I will sip my sparkling water and enjoy a different type of contentment

Giving Ted Mosby a piece of my mind

As the whole world knows, How I Met Your Mother ended on Monday night. We have not been faithful HIMYM watchers since the beginning. A few summers ago we binged on the whole series and have been faithful fans since that point. In fact, it is one of the few shows we watch live...with the commercials and all.

In case you have been living under a rock this week and avoiding all things related to pop culture, I will inform you that many, many fans are less than satisfied with the ending of the show. A few weeks ago, I looked at Josh and said, "I think they are going to kill The Mother!"

They did.
They killed the mother in the last few seconds of the show.

I sobbed. I sobbed. I sobbed as if my best friend actually died. The amount of tissues and snot were embarrassing.

So, last night in the last of my edition in my long series of vivid pregnancy dreams, I had a looooong talk with Ted Mosby/Josh Radnor. My dream vascilated between the person and the fictional character which is a perfectly acceptable format in my dreams. I yelled that he needed to go back, start over and do better so. I would not accept an ending where The Mother died.

It was cathartic.

I feel better.

In my world, The Mother recovered and made them waffles at the end of Ted's story.

This concludes my musings on popular culture for the week. 

PS: Did anyone like the ending of HIMYM? I might hate you forever it you did but I would be morbidly curious to hear why it was satisfying...or acceptable for you.

23 weeks or a Spaghetti Squash

Now that my wonderful, high powered meds have my nausea under control, I thought I would post a little pregnancy update. By under control read: I am not lying in bed huddled in the fetal position sick. It is truly amazing how much nausea one becomes *accustomed* to living with. I hear people like to look back and see pictures of themselves.

I am trusting it is true.

I look at myself and wonder, "Who is that tired looking pregnant woman? Some one please offer her a cookie or a nap."

My standards are low these days. Showering has become optional. Getting dressed in real clothes is an if I have to type of activity. As a result, I only will take pictures on the days I actually get dressed. I should take a picture of me in my oversized sweatshirt and leggings because that is real life but I'm afraid it might be a little too real.

This is Amy + Joey at 23 weeks. I thought about taking a picture in the full length mirror but that lives upstairs and the prospect of walking up and down the stairs seemed daunting on Monday night. So, I am telling myself this picture is "artsy" and giving myself bonus points for my mirror that hasn't been dusted. Is it hipster to not dust? If so, I am the hippest hipster around.

Also, because surely everyone is on the edge of their seat, dying to know, here are a few of those questions about the pregnancy for you, posterity, and for future Amy if she ever decides to be pregnant again.

Movement: Oh my goodness, this boy is active. I think the term the highly specialized ultrasound doctor used was "wild." Personally, I really like feeling his punches and kicks.

Development: Spaghetti Squash or 1lb. I think those pregnancy phone apps are liars. He HAS to be bigger than that...look at me.

Best Moment of the Week:  I love to feel him move.

Worst Moment of the Week: I'm voting the babymoon at the hospital as the low point this past week.

Sleep: Eh. I wake up several times a night because my bladder thinks it is the size of a walnut. Also, my doctor changed around my medications so I've been waking up in the middle of the night with waves of extreme nausea.

Food Cravings: Melons. I have been consuming large amounts of Cantelope and Honeydew melon. They have surpassed berries and apples as the food of choice. I'm still digging salads but not to the same extent.

Shoe Fail and a Soggy Sock

Apparently after three winters of salt and snow and ice and chemicals and three springs + two falls of rain and mud, my boots have given out.

They have cracked in protest from misuse and abuse.

Truthfully, I noticed the small crack a few weeks ago but apparently I forgot. So, on Monday morning I pulled on my boots as I rushed out the door and fearlessly entered the rain. Somewhere in the middle of my morning to-dos I realized that my sock was soggy and my foot was wet. Clearly cracked boots are not as waterproof as their uncracked counterparts. I suppose they are merely "water resistant."

Obviously, I could use a new pair of boots. Last time, I happened upon a pair of Sperry boots that were on clearance for $40. It was a pretty great deal considering how long they lasted and the utter abuse they endured. This time I am thinking of breaking down and buying a pair of Hunter boots. I know they are sturdy and should be able to handle three seasons of shoe abuse. On the other hand, they are a hefty chunk of change.

Here is the dilemma:

- Do I buy new boots now in preparation for the soggy days of spring and fall?

OR

- Do I wait for winter and ask for a pair for my birthday when one can legitimately justify the expense of Hunter boots?

OR

- Do I buy a cheaper pair of Target boots to fill the boot hole until next winter rolls around?

Normally my inclination is to wait for a sale but Hunter boots do not really go on sale....

Decisions...Decisions...Decisions...
Anyone of my non-existant blog readers have thoughts? I'm all ears.