Di and I went on our annual Festival of Trees date last week, sans the husbands and babies.
Reece has said he would rather wear a dress in public than participate in this holiday tradition.
Apparently he has no heart.
Warning to all: it's impossible to walk out of that place without shedding more than a few tears, especially when pregnant.
We met up with Lola's favorite guy, Emerson Cornelius, and one of my favorite gals, Emerson's mom Shannon, for lunch at Hagermanns and a much-needed gab fest. Shannon converted me to the Turkey Pomodoro, which I will likely be picking up for lunch every day for at least the next three weeks. Meanwhile, our bookworms spent a happy hour or two getting into everything together.
A few weeks ago, Lola discovered the window over the extra bed in her room. I made the mistake of opening the blinds to let her peek out into our exotic parking lot, so now every morning after her bath, she insists on climbing up to greet the day. Most of the time she prefers to be naked.
Apparently I am over the nauseous stage and on to the lovely must-eat-everything-in-sight phase of pregnancy. I'm currently addicted to green apples, grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, chocolate goldfish crackers, raisin bran and pickles.
My parents introduced Reece and I to the show "Lie to Me," and we pretty much can't stop watching. Thank you Netflix.
Lola loves the baby Jesus in our nativity and says "JESUS" about every other word or so. Which is cute and all, until she starts screaming the sacred name while pointing at random people in public.
I have officially busted out the trusty Bella Band, as most of my pants scream at me when I try to button and zip. I think it might have something to do with the must-eat-everything-in-sight phase I currently find myself in.