A Tricycle Built for Two

The nugget is smitten.




This is Rose.



She and Max met in birthing class when they were still just teensy babies in their mommas' tummys.



She's the only lady I know who can make this baby act like he might be shy.



She is a rare beauty, that Rose. The boy has taste.



Just like his daddy.

No Vlog Vednesday

Max and I tried to create our weekly Vlog for you but it was an epic fail.

Anyway, we thought this might be a good time to get some feed back from all of you. Tomorrow we'll have been officially blogging for two  months and we want to know what you guys think. First of all, we want to thank you all for stopping by and checking us out everyday. We've been amazed at how many of you choose to do so, and we really, really appreciate it.



We'd also really like to know what you want to see more of, what you'd like to see less of, and what ideas you might have for us to try that we maybe haven't even thought of yet. Recently, we've been talking a little more about babies than fashion, and have had a GREAT response. You all seem to like the videos, too. Sorry to so woefully let you down this week :)

Please, please leave us a comment and let us know what you think and how we can improve the Newsfeed. I've enabled anonymous comments, so if you don't want to leave your name, you don't have to. Again, thanks so much and have a wonderful rest of the week!

How to Make a Nugget: The Conclusion to the Conculsion.

This is the very end of a very long story about my pregnancy and birth.

You'll find:

Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here

the Finale: "Anthony's Paper Pants"

I was overcome with happiness to be on my way to meet my bebe. I couldn’t wait to find out if he was cute or not (although I knew that he would be). I have no idea how people get to this point and don’t know the sex of the baby. The suspense would kill me.  I would have had the doctor tell me if he was going to be a summer or an autumn if the information had been available to me.  The worst part of it was that for the first time, they took Anthony away from me.  They took him to dress for surgery while they prepped me. I hadn’t realized until that point how much his presence was holding me up emotionally.

It was totally worth it though. Here’s why. Anthony is a serious sort of fellow. He’ll almost never let me make him wear anything goofy. Our first Halloween together I bought him a cape and  vampire fangs to glue to his teeth. Did not happen. This turned out great for me because they gave him a paper outfit that was two sizes two small and a rather smart paper hat. He. Looked. Awesome. It reminded me of a friend’s dad who took us to Rome and had to wear Italian sized paper pants over his American sized legs to waddle around the Vatican because he was wearing shorts.  Just Delightful. Then, Anthony further proceeded to keep my mind of things by bolting into the room like a shot when they gave him the word,  hunching down to put his face directly beside mine lest he should see anything unnerving in the other side of the sheet and pass out in front of everyone. He didn’t move from that spot the whole time, bless his heart. He threw his iphone to the 
anesthesiologist to take a picture when Maxwell finally graced us with his glowing presence.

I made it b&w so it wouldn't gross you out. See how I love my readers?

More after the jump.

How to Make a Nugget: The Conclusion- Part 1

This is the fifth part of a series I'm writing about my pregnancy and birth. There's a disclaimer around here somewhere. Anyway, proceed with caution! I appreciate everyone who's taken the time to stick with me though this long, drawn out tale!

Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here

Part 5: The conclusion part one or  “Dr. Bradley Is Dead to Me”

When we arrive at the Hospital, we are immediately in all sorts of trouble with the evil nurse who checks us in.

 

“You don’t know if your water broke because no one ever knows that. Whoa, IT DID! Why didn’t you get here the minute your water broke?!” “You should have been on IV fluids this whole time!” “Why did you bring so many pillows?” “No, I don’t want to see your birth plan. I’ll tell you the birth plan” she said.

I also fibbed a little bit about the time frame for which my water had actually broken because as soon as it breaks, you’re on the clock to have the baby in 24 hours or you’re off to surgery. It’s not really that big of a deal. It just statistically increases the chances of infection. Allison said I could fib, so I did. I was in survival mode at that point and had no morals. It was “Lord of the Flies” and I was trying to keep the conch shell. I knew, right off the bat, that this woman was going to be a pain in my tuchus. Little did I know what was about 

to happen.

More after the jump... if you are really, really brave. 

Max's Lipstick

So, the Nugget has been sick all weekend, Team. His little cough is super pathetic. Also, after no sleep for three days, I'm really, really pretty.

Today, I carefully gave him a bath, shined him up, got him dressed for Mr. Newsfeed to take him to the pediatrician, and he immediately found a lipstick with which to draw all over himself. To be fair, Elizabeth Arden lipstick smells like candy, and even I want to snack on it.

I typed out this list of questions for Anthony to hand the Doctor when they get there. I really hope he only reads the first couple and gets board (like he usually does) and hands it to the man. I'll let you know how it goes.

Things to Ask Dr. Fricker:
1.       Please check the diaper area. It’s all splotchy for the first time in a long time.
2.       He hasn’t been saying all the words he knows and sometimes won’t even say mama and dada.
3.       He has a gnarly cough.
4.       Does the baby have emphysema?
5.       Can Mormon babies even get emphysema?
6.       The baby is a terrible driver. Should we have him in classes for that? Do you think we need to hire some sort of specialist?
7.       He gets really upset and sweaty when we have him raking leaves for more than a few hours. We offer to let him start on the garage instead but he just gets even more distraught.
8.       What’s the proper amount of Tylenol to give a little baby fever? I’ve been going 2:1:1. Tylenol to milk to booze. Are those little Tylenol bottles recyclable, because we have a mountain of them at our house?
9.       What’s the appropriate age to expect the baby to play Beethoven because we’ve been chaining him to the piano for at least the amount of time recommended by that Tiger Mom and we got nuthin’ to show for it.
10.   He’s been biting, Mr.Elmo has. Can you please, please explain to him why it’s important not to bite the baby.
11.  That's lipstick under Max's fingernails, not blood. Yeah, we know that doesn't make us look any better.

Mystery Date Dresses

So, the three following outfits are all completely from the same source. You'll be shocked. I've never fantasy shopped this particular outfitter before, but I may have seen the light.


Ring. Dress. Boots.




Necklace. Shoes. Dress. Cardigan.



Necklace. Dress. Shoes.

How to Make a Nugget Part 4

This is part four of a series I'm writing about my pregnancy and my son's birth.

Here's Part 1.

Here's Part 2.

Here's Part 3.

Disclaimer 

If you’re in this for the fashion, look away.  If you find yourself repulsed by a woman’s inner need to rehash every gritty detail of bringing their young into this world, then this post is NAWT going to be to your liking. If you don’t like a lot of wordy words comin’ at you, catch you next week. My feelings won’t be hurt one iota, and I promise I still love you. Also, if you are pregnant with your first child, I will forbid you to read further.  I would never knowingly tell this story to a preggo on her maiden voyage to a birthing suite.

I’ve put off telling the story of Maxwell’s birth, because honestly, it was traumatic. It was not at all what I wanted or expected--- and I really had no idea what to expect.  I feel, now though, almost a year-and-a-half later, that it’s a story that should be recorded. As long as I’m recording it, why not let you all in on it? I let you in on lots of other embarrassing things that I do.  I would never call anything about childbirth unnatural or embarrassing. I’m just saying that there are moments in this tale that I would not describe as being my finest hour.  Hopefully, after all these months of physical and emotional healing I can laugh at this whole experience as I laugh at most everything in life because if you can’t laugh at yourself, God is going to be yukking it up without you.

I was the ginormous ball that drops on this New Year's Eve. Two days before D-Day.

Chapter 4. "D-Day" or "How I Emotionally Abused Mr. Newsfeed"

The waiting game was torture. Everybody you’ve ever met calls you and asks you if the baby has arrived every single, stinkin’ day. No one wants that casaba melon outta there as much as you do. You have the nursery ready, your bag packed, ankles the size of the ancient sequoias.  You are ready for the preggo experience to END and to get a hold of your Nugget. Little did I know that each day was a stay of execution against the agony that I would eventually endure. You should know I almost added “happily” there in the last sentence as an adverb to modify “endure”, and then I got really honest with myself.

My water finally broke on a Sunday morning. By that point, I had been hollering “this is it” for two weeks.  My “Braxton-Hix” or “practice” contractions had been so uncomfortable that it was not an unusual practice for me to grab onto something and squat down to breathe deeply in the grocery store, the shopping mall, church, or wherever this out-of-place behavior would be the most embarrassing to Mr. Newsfeed. Because of the Christmas holiday, he’d been home for weeks bothering me all day and watching me like a ticking time bomb because that’s what I had become. I will never again believe a movie scene in which a woman’s water breaks, she’s rushed to the hospital, and starts pushing. It’s hooey. Got me? Hooey. That would have been a cake walk.

It was in the wee, small hours when I climbed into bed with Anthony to tell him that we’d be meeting our baby that day.  I had to knock him around to wake him up so that I could inflict this special moment upon him. He was sleeping in the guest room because I was such a beached whale at that point that I needed 37 pillows to get comfortable enough to get an even an hour or two of sleep. There was not any room for husbands. He was upset that I was waking him and was reluctant to believe me that “today was the day.” He’d heard it too many times before. I retreated to my room to endure more contractions with my ipod meditations and pillows. In the days leading up to “the big one” I had been skate/snowshoeing/waddling over to the fitness center to walk the day away and the baby OUT on the treadmill.  After my water broke, however, I was NOT interested and had to make myself walk around every now and then.

Mid morning, Anthony finally dared to come seek me out in my momma bear lair. He asked if I needed anything. I very specifically described what I wanted to eat (a food that I’ve never craved before or since) and the kind of water I wanted in a very serious way. I think he finally believed me because I’m very seldom very serious. When he returned with them, I asked that he sit them on the bed and go away. I should mention here that for a good 48 hours or so, I was not anyone with whom you’d want to be having a baby. I’ve been trying to make it up to him ever since.  Whatever.  The day of Max’s birth wasn’t exactly his shining moment, either.

All of our weeks of training and practice was not comforting us in those panic-filled hours. The day wore on and I stared at a window in our bedroom trying to prepare myself for each contraction. I was yelling to Anthony “now!” and “NOW” to indicate the start and end of contractions so that he could time them. They kept getting worse but never really achieved any sort of constant interval that would indicate that Max’s big debut was imminent. I was determined to stay at home for as long as humanly possible. I didn’t want to futz around at the stupid hospital for days waiting to have the baby. In the back of my mind, though, I knew that we had been snowed in for days and the roads had been recently  cleared so it would be great if we could go to the hospital before it snowed again.  I held out until the last possible minute. 

Then, around one o’ clock in the morning, almost 24hrs after this all this had begun,  Anthony skated me out to the car on a thin sheet of ice and away we went. I have some sort of idea about how annoying I had to have been on that car ride. I just knew birth was imminent. I expected to feel the baby start sliding down the baby shoot at any moment on that car ride. I had one foot up on the dash in a sort of crazed squat and was doing and yelling things that were absolutely not part of our Bradley training. I was breathing deeply but that was about it. All bets are off when your body has been squeezing your insides like a giant tube of toothpaste for two solid weeks and you know that cap is about to burst free... also that you are going to be responsible for making sure the toothpaste gets into a good college.

(to be continued)

Conclusion  Tuesday!


If you want it sooner, you can publicly follow the Electric Elmo Newsfeed on your Google reader or Bloglovin' and shoot me an email letting me know you can't wait for the conclusion and you might get an exclusive sneak peak.

Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here
Part 6 is here

How to Make a Nugget Part 3

"Baby Class" or "How my Baby Was Born Addicted to Peanut Butter Treats"


(This is part three of a series I'm sharing about my pregnancy and birth. Here are Part I and Part II)

Nugget Feet by Suz Bushman

After the shock wore off about my pregnancy,  I had to either admit that a baby was coming to live with us or that I was ballooning up to 637lbs from eating too many cupcakes. I chose the baby.  I quickly began about preparations for his arrival. I wrote my first ever blog post. The graphics are goo-oood on that old blog so be sure to check that out.  I’ll also direct you to my birth plan. I had it all planned out, team. I was sooooo ready for child birth.  How did I even know to create a birth plan, you may ask? 

Enter Allison. I loved Allison.  It was at Allison’s house that I finally took a deep breath and felt like maybe everything would be fine. It was in her living room that I met my first real friends (since I had been pregnant) who were in the same rickety life boat we were in and having babies. They gave me hope, too.  I had found a Bradley (natural child birth) classes online and dragged Anthony 45 minutes across town in rush hour traffic to go figure out how to survive this birth, and Allison was our instructor. She had given birth to 3 or 4 kids naturally and calmly. She taught us all about husband coached child birth, relaxation techniques for labor, and put us on a special diet to help combat pre-eclampsia (a condition of high blood pressure that affects lots of mothers and often leads to Cesarean births). This diet, if nothing else from the class, was invaluable and likely kept me from being eclamptic when my weight soared to 280lbs the day I went into labor(not an exaggeration, but a lot of it was water weight that came off fairly quickly.) Although, all the healthy eating made me crave peanut butter treats and I would sneak one every couple of days.  In our baby class, we met the following:

-Cierra-A wonderful, lovely girl, who along with her husband Fitz(who is an an awesome folk band that you NEED to see in person when you get the chance) seemed to be super laid back and calm about this terrifying ordeal we were all going through together. They gave me lots of hope and were a good example to us. I still keep in touch with Cierra. She's since had another baby and is STILL a rock star and gives me hope.

-Tiffany-who never said much. She and her husband seemed as wide-eyed and scared as Anthony and I when we watched the videos of emerging babies. PS. These videos had cheerful mothers in them happily skippping out of the delivery room right after birth. I, for one, did not do that.

-Lisa-who'd already had two kids, so when she spoke, I always listened very carefully and took mental notes. Her husband and mine were the class clowns of this operation. I found her husbands jokes to be super funny and my husbands jokes to be super embarrassing.

and...

-Nicole-the girl who looked like she was smuggling a basketball because she was still tiny everywhere but her belly. She ran, worked out, did cardio and strength training all the way though pregnancy-- while working full time. I did a little yoga and watched the entire Gilmore Girls series while laying on the couch, during mine. I was ashamed of myself when she would tell us all she did in a day.

The reason I sought natural birth training out was this: I actually knew quite a bit about the way things usually shake out in the delivery room from my training and education. I’m a licenced EMT and was working toward becoming a Doctor before I ran off to save the world on the campaign trail. I knew that at the hospital, it’s all business. Big Baby business.  A maternity ward is the cash cow of any hospital.  Hence the plush surroundings for mammas who are there for a day, and the cold, sterile walls for heart patients who are there for months awaiting transplants.  It’s wham, bam, thank-you for the epidural- Ma’am.

I knew that wasn’t what I wanted before I’d ever read a word about the dangers of heavy medications being introduced to a fetus during birth. I wanted something real. Something beautiful and meaningful. Even if it meant that I would be in pain. “I laugh at you pain!” I thought. I will be strong and capable and do things my own way just like always. When you get over confident like this, God has really no choice but to humble you. It’s in the bylaws. 

(to be continued... Tomorrow!)

Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here
Part 6 is here

Seeing Double.

Confession. If I had a little girl, I would be that woman who dresses the baby like her.  And I would walk right past the disapproving looks and still love it. Hold. The. Phone. One company has indeed made it possible for me to still be that woman.

Prepare yourself for my favorite pictures EVER. This girl is my new shero.




Me: Necklaces- Langford Market in Austin. and JCrew Skirt- Urban Outfitters
Him: Jeans-Levi's. Shoes-Converse via Famous Footwear (on sale!)
Shirts: stripedshirt.com


The company that makes my new favorite shirt is called... ready for it... striped shirt.com. It is the cutest shop I can imagine. I wish I'd thought of it. The shirts come in the colors of your favorite sports team and every size imaginable. The lovely proprietor, Laura Beck (who is adorable times three), introduced us all to these bad boys at the Texas Style Council Conference and was so generous as to give us ALL shirts. She is amazing and I predict this company goes far. I swear she didn't bribe me or torture me to say any of this.






They are super comfy and of very high quality. I love that they have 5% spandex along with cotton. So, they don't get easily stretched out like most super soft shirts do. The one thing I would warn you about if you want to order one however, would be that they are plenty roomy. I got a size smaller than I would normally wear and did just fine. Max's is a little big on him, but it's adorable when things are too big on him because he is a walking peanut.






Also, because they are so soft, I got some little fuzzies under my arm on the first wear, but they removed easily and it now looks as good as new. I'm clearly going to be ordering a LOT more because when the Phillies get done, we have the Eagles to think about (the green and white). Also, Max will be getting bigger and I'll (hopefully) be shrinking very soon.





One thing you all should do right now, today is book a session with this amazing young photographer. She is booking up fast with spring here, and you just have to have some of her lovely photographic art in your life. Also, get in now while her prices are crazy reasonable because she's clearly soon to be commanding the big bucks. I mean, I saw what I looked like yesterday (a little meh), but these pictures made me feel beautiful. As women, it's so important to our emotional health to be able to see how beautiful we truly are, and she was able to find that for me with her camera mad skill.  Guess which one is my favorite? ALL OF THEM. Plus, it was so much fun working with her. She was so professional and I felt like a model the whole time. Also, she kept telling me how great I looked, so that's how you know what a wonderful treat it was for me. I also got to hang out with her little girl who is seriously a real life cupcake. Seriously. Right now. Book it. Suz Bushman Photography You can also see lots more of our little photo sesh over there.

*Disclaimer-- Neither one of these businesses asked me to tell you how great they are and if you ask them, they'll probably be all "Electric Elmo What-y?" They just make me super happy and I wanted to share because I love ya and want my all readers to be happy too.

You're Invited to An Electric Elmo Outing

Bill Cunningham is the street style photographer for the New York Times. I've always been fascinated by little little blurbs about this man. Any man who has gained his kind of fame without demanding anything in return is a true artist. A documentary about him is being released and will be showing at the OKC Museum of Art the weekend of April 21-24. Who's in? What night is best?

Not anywhere near the great plains? You can check showings for your city here.

Here's the preview....

"How to Make a Nugget" Part II

This is part two of a series I'm sharing with you about the adventure that was my pregnancy and birth. Part one can be found here. It's a humorous look at the whole thing, so you might enjoy it even if you're not interested in the topic. If you are pregnant yourself, however, I'm going to recommended you click away immediately.

But first...

You should know

that I think

This guy is worth all the morning sickness in the world.

Chapter 2:  “Discarded Cork” or “There Goes the Neighborhood”

Even though the first trimester of my pregnancy was one long look into a toilet, I was still in denial. I think I was mostly shocked that this stage in my life had begun without some big fertility ordeal like I’d always expected. Nothing in my life has ever come as easy. 

I was indeed ill. For three solid months.  I guess my conscious mind was able to chalk it all up to bad sushi if I was able to stay in denial throughout all that. I was sick as in like NAUSEA THAT CAN KILL A GIRL for the first three months. I could not have a conversation with you or smell even your very pleasant personal smell without heaving for the nearest powder room. My poor husband gained a complex because I would often run off to do heavens knows what after I’d come in close to kiss him.  This all occurred (the sick period) during the dog days of summer. Because of course it did. 

Anthony was thrilled about one thing at least. For the first time in our marriage, we desired the exact same atmospheric temperature: freezing degrees Celsius in our little apartment. The only relief I found during that whole period of my life was to dawn my swim gear, scamper down to our freezing pool, and float like a discarded cork in the deep end of our apartment pool whilst small children ran around the edges of the pool shooting water pistols around me and reminding me what I was in for in 5-7 years.  I remember that one day, after a long day of burning my front half to a crisp in search of the relief the cold water offered me, Anthony came to sit with me beside the pool.

“Let’s just give the baby up for adoption” I said, only half joking.  “We’ll give it to a couple who’s longed for the opportunity to parent for years and years.  A couple who’s really got it together and will be sealed to this little guy and we’ll move to Europe because, well, our families would never speak to us again after that anyway”

And in the way that only that only my husband can, he talked me off that ledge by saying something to the effect ...“It’s all going to be okay. Tone down the crazy, Crazy McGee.”

(Max if you’re ever reading this someday, Momma was crazy with sickness and heat stroke when she uttered those words. I would go out with guns blazing and give my own life before I’d let anyone take you from me.)

Little did I know, I was about to lose any company I had in the “I’m not so sure about this” department, because the next thing I knew, I was lying flat on my back on a table looking at a picture of my little peanut—staring in shock and awe with the Mr. at the ultrasound monitor- amazed to see that an actual human form was living and squirming deep inside my guts. I’ve never been so amazed to see anything. Ever. 

Tears streamed down my face before I knew what had hit me. I looked up to see Anthony Elmo, who had, to that point, only cried one time in my presence, and that was when the Phillies had won the World Series, choked up himself. We were toast. We were hooked. We were parents. Anthony claims to this day that he didn't feel like a father until he physically saw Max emerge on the day of his birth, but I know something shook in him that day. It was a very powerful moment.

There were other memorable moments.When we heard his little heart beat. A few days after that, Anthony was joking around and fell on my womb with his knee, and after making him feel as terrible as possible I called up the OB like I was dying and scheduled an emergency appointment, and forced her to let me listen to the heartbeat again so that I could know my nugget was safe.

The day we found out he was a boy with a little boy peep top was only a big day for me because I’d been  telling people from day one that Max a boy and that I could feel his boy-ness radiating off of him, and  I finally had someone with medical training to back me up. I mean, I would have loved to put bows and tutus on somebody, but I knew from the beginning that it wasn’t going to happen.  I was sure to let Anthony have final approval on the girl name while I chose the boy name long before we had photographic evidence of the tiny peepers.

There was the day that we moved to our new city while I was about six months pregnant. It was the hottest day of the year. I felt beyond awful that my poor, sweet Aunties were the ones moving our stuff with Anthony while I sat ill and miserable in the A/C. I won’t mention their ages because you’d never guess it to look at them, but they certainly shouldn’t be relied upon as moving men and one of them has a bad knee.  To top moving day off with a bang, a wave of sickness hit me as I was standing in front of our new neighbors , I tossed my proverbial peanut butter treats right there in the front yard, and they probably thought a big, fat lush was moving in next door. Again, not my finest hour.  The point of this little tangent is, take care of your aunties and don’t ever drink.

(to be continued)

check back Saturday if anyone is still interested 

Chapter 3: Baby Class or How My Baby Was Born Addicted to Peanut Butter Treats

Part 1 is here
Part 2 is here
Part 3 is here
Part 4 is here
Part 5 is here
Part 6 is here

Vlogging Vednesday: Max Sits on the Cake

This is by far the funniest video we've made. I say a bunch of boring things then Max chases a cake around and sits on it. It didn't look too bad afterwards. I thought it would be funny to feed Anthony a piece before he gets a chance to watch the video.





Adeline's Daddy ----Check out the other lovely vloggers!!

Identity Crisis: Max's Birth Story

I originally wrote two paragraphs of disclaimer here. But I just deleted them. Why warn you? No one warned me and I'm okay. Pretty much okay.

Part 1:  "You Must Be Messing With Me" or  "I'll SCRAPBOOK YOU, Honey!"

I loved being pregnant. Sure, I was big like a house. Sure, I had to pee more than a grandpa hopped up on Redbull , but deep down I loved it. 

Attention.  

Great skin (that I haven’t  experienced before or since). 

Frontsies in line at the drug store, bathroom, toll booths, you name it! Well, maybe not toll booths) 

What’s not to love?!

We’d only been married for about nine months when the stick turned pregnant.

To be absolutely accurate, seven sticks (of varying makes and models) returned with a pregnant verdict before I marched myself into the OBGYN’s office demanding some sort of explanation.  The only fifteen minutes I didn’t have to pee in that whole nine months was standing in the Dr’s office lady’s room holding their “superior, Dr's” pregnancy test that looked exactly like the seven others at home in my bathroom trash.  Who am I kidding? Back then, I would have vaccum sealed the things and thrown them in the nearest dumpster rather than let something stained with urine offend my germ-free fortress of a living environment. Who knew a year and a half later I’d let little packets of human diapers sit around for hours breathing the same air as my family and not think twice about it? This lady(the doctor) had some nerve . First, she outfits a young, impressionable girl with a defective diaphragm and then she giggles at me when I tell her this is my eighth test. She mockingly asks me if I need this one for my “scrapbook.” NO LADY, I don’t need your little pee square for my scrapbook. I need you to tell me what happened to my youth! I’m about to go back out into the world a mother! I’m going to have to get a terrible haircut and forget all about my self-centered existence that I LOVE.  I want to just stay in this doctor’s office forever where I walked in a young newlywed full of promise and with many blissful childless years in front of me.  The biggest thing I had planned this week was a pedicure, and you’re suggesting I start filling out pre-school applications, you dream snatcher! Please, don’t make me go out there!

But “out there” I did go. It wasn’t so bad. At first. I don’t remember a lot of what happened in the hours following my departure from that Dr’s office. I think I confirmed with the Mr. that our lives were essentially over and we agreed to hold off telling our friends and families until we could be sure that things were going smoothly and we could tell everyone properly—with lots of pomp and circumstance.

Immediately following that conversation, I stopped by my dad’s office on the drive home from the dr’s office and blurted out the news the same way that one would announce they’d had pot roast the night before—not bad as far as dinners go, but not particularly anything to write home about either. By midnight that night, we’d called everyone else we’d ever met on the phone and told them. I think I told my high school girlfriends over a facebook instant message.  All before we’d even really absorbed the news ourselves.  I have no idea what possessed us. I could claim that we were smoking a lot of crack that day, but it seems terribly  irresponsible to be smoking crack while “with child,” and more importantly, I don’t know enough about exactly what crack is to state our “crack use” in any kind of believable manner. So the best thing I can do here is claim to have had PTSD from that jokester doctor and her “trick diaphragm” to have announced my baby while he was still essentially embryonic and possessed of approximately ten cells. Clearly, I was lucky to have been banking on ten such extraordinary cells. That whole thing, like many of the great things in my life, could have gone very, very badly for me if at all dependent upon the grace with which I handled the situation.

(to be continued)

Leave me a comment letting me know it you like this sort of thing or if you'd rather I dispense with the baby chat and bring back the shoes.


Update: ( you can find part II here--- if you dare)

Fantasy Shopping: Dirty Dancing Edition

So, last night I recalled my adolescence when Mr. Newsfeed and I watched Dirty Dancing on Netflix on demand. For those of you who didn't watch this movie at every childhood sleepover haven't seen it, it's the coming of age story of a girl who goes to stay at a summer retreat with her family, meets a dreamy dance instructor, and learns that there's more to life than the foxtrot.

(click any image to enlarge and then the "back" arrow on your browser to return to me)

all screenshots are from leavemethewhite.com

"I carried a watermelon."

(click "read more" to see more stills and see the fantasy shopping that ensued)

Here comes the bride...

Dear Steph and future Mr. Steph,

       I'm so happy that two such lovely and fashion-forward individuals have found one another. I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there to properly shower you this day. I'm totally lame, and my team was being really wimpy this morning (me included). I love ya so much, though. Steph, you were the most stylish lady on the debate team when we were in high school, the loveliest lady in the Ivy League in college, and I can't wait to see what you decide to do with your wedding day! Best wishes to both of you! You've found one awesome catch, Mr.  

I wish the both of you all the love in the universe,

Lacy 

A Day of Crafty Silence

Happy St. Pat's, Newsfeed readers. The Nugget and I are doing two very important things today.

1. We are wearing matching St. Patty's socks.

2. We are preparing for a day of silence tomorrow. In observance of the atrocities our Japanise brethren are facing,  we'll be joining our fellow bloggers in a day of complete radio silence tomorrow. With all the time we're going to save not blogging, we thought we'd invite all our friends and readers over to the bungalow to craft for a cause. Starting at 10:00 Friday morning and ending 6:00pm Friday eve, Max and I will be crafting our little fingers to the bone. We'll be making hilarious goodies to sell in our Etsy store, the Electric Elmo Curiosity Shoppe, with any and all proceeds to be donated to Shelterbox, an amazing organization that is doing incredible things to help victims of this disaster this very second. It's totes legit. Max checked them out. (see the for Japan with love link in sidebar for more info)

Things you can do to help us:

• Come over here and get crafting on Friday. Just do it.
• Bring over stuff you've already made that you'd like to donate (should it not sell, I will return it to you)
• Send over any craft makin' goodies you can spare for the crafters
• Drop by a snack or beverage for us to feed the weary crafters
• Come play with toddlers so that their mommas can get crafty
• Come take awesome photos of the crafts for me to post on the site (RianCandiceSuzI'mLookin'AtYOU)
• Shout encouraging phrases while others craft
• Send supportive emails for me to show the crafters
• Not close enough to be here? Have your own craft off with your friends and tell me about it.
• If you crochet, my awesome friend Chanda has an amazing project for you over at Neko Knits

New Hair

One of you asked about a picture of my new hair. Here goes.  

Step one:  Go into see Fidela at Effectos Salon and BEG to be made to look like Grace Potter. 

Step two: Show her this picture and tell her how much you love Grace Potter.

Step three: Blather on and on about "Rock star bangs" and how much you want a purple streak while Fidela ignores you and just works her magic. 

End Result.

Vloggin' Vednesdays: These are 3 Questions I Have.

So Max, Polly, and I found this great location near our vet to film our vlog today. It's a field full of the lovely, white blooming trees that are everywhere right now. We packed up our gear and headed over--- only to find that I had forgotten to bring the tiny square that attaches the camera to the tri-pod. So, lucky for you, you get this gem with Mr. Newsfeed back at the bungalow instead. Enjoy.

Our Trial Location

Be sure to head over to Adeline's Daddy to check hear from all the other vloggers this week! And join in on the fun here...

Electric Elmo Box Swap Winner!

I almost forget with all the excitement this weekend! The first recipient of the Electric Elmo Swap Box  is .....



There's a really cute video of the Nugget picking the winner via pieces of paper in the grass. My Nugget can beat up your random number generator. Although, it took three takes to talk him into picking one up.





I really appreciate everyone who threw their hats in to participate in this little experiment of mine! Also, I have more than enough for three boxes because of my recent closet purge. Soooo.... both Chanda from Neko Knits and Meredith from Yours, Mine, and Ours will be receiving boxes of awesome goodies from me as well! Christina will be in charge of keeping the love rolling, though. Congrats Christina! I'll let you know when she's ready to send it on again and have the link for you!

Distinctly Desiree

Meet Desiree. She was my roomie and partner in crime all weekend. Sweetest. Girl. Ever.

Check her out over at Distinctly Desiree.

photobooth by Nathan Russell Photography

Austin

I'm home from a lovely weekend in Austin for the Texas Style Council Conference. I was privileged to meet some wonderful and lovely ladies. I was sure to sport big hair all weekend. When in Rome...

   

Clothing Swap sponsored by swap.com

more photos after the jump. Click "Read More" to check them out!

Ladies and Gentleman, I give you... Lydia.

Lydia is not a blogger, but she should be. She's my best friend from high school. 

Hi readers! 

I hope youʼre all having just the BEST Sunday. I found some long- forgotten fruit leather in the cupboard earlier, so mine has been pretty good! If youʼre reading Lacyʼs blog, maybe you fancy yourself some sort of fashionista (I bet you look goo-ood). If thatʼs the case, maybe you already know all about thrifting, since all the snazziest ladies I know can turn out something ferosh for a dollar. But, if youʼre new to the game, perhaps some of these tips will be useful to you. And perhaps not. But I am not getting paid for this, so whatever.

Miss you guys.

Miss you guys! I'm in Austin at SXSW learning lots of fun stuff to share with  you. I've left you in capable hands. The funniest girl I've ever met is bringing you some sweet thrifting "how to" tomorrow. You don't want to miss Lydia. Trust me.

X's,
Lacy

For Every Action, There Is an Equal and Opposite...

Vlog follow-up. Anthony came home from his business trip tonight. As I stated in my Vlog entry, I had to organize my closet to film in there. This involved sorting my things from their moving boxes into giant piles all over our room and the guest room to be put away. I also hung items around the house for consideration for the box swap. (Don't forget to enter!) Here's how it went down when Anthony got home.

Me: Hey, honey! I missed you!

Hoosband: What HAPPENED in here?!

Me: Well, I started a lot of projects while you were gone. I didn't finish a lot of projects while you were gone.

Hoosband: How did this happen?! There is stuff everywhere! What did you do?

Me: I cleaned out my closet. It's really lovely in there.

(leads husband to view my mad organizational skills)

Hoosband: Are those the @#$%ing shelves you threw a fit over?

Me: hmm? No, I don't think so.

Hoosband: (mocking voice and wild exasperated gesticulations) "You don't listen to me. You don't understand me," you said! Now you have your little scarves all over them!

Me: Miiiiised you (kissy face) You've been wanting me to sort out my closet. Doesn't it look swell?

Hoosband: I mean, theoretically it's clean, but WHAT about all of that stuff out there?! What's going to happen to all of it?

Me: Missed you. (kissy face)

The amazing thing about this picture is that I took one, split-second look at it and thought, "Whoa! I need to get safety plugs back in that outlet." That's what I thought was dangerous. Not the towering mountain of clothing that could collapse at any moment and maim the Nugget.

Vlogging Vednesday: The Electric Elmo Closet

This vlog is rated 'G' AND 'R' because it's goofy AND ridiculous.

Check the other Vlogging Vednesday participants here.

Back Down Polly

As you can see, Polly was eyeballin' my nap time snack. 

No dice, mi perrito. 

It's nap time, and during nap time, it's every man for herself. 

Momma loves you.

Now back up off mah apple.

Momma's Shrink Ray

This was the Nugget one year ago. He was three months old. I thought he was such a big boy because I could prop him up like he was standing in pictures. I wanted him to hurry and walk so that we could go to the zoo together and run and play. Now, I'm in my garage every night crying, hoping for him to stay little for always, and drawing up blueprints for the shrink ray I'm going to use on him to accomplish this.

Vloggin' Vednesdays?!

This is only the only cool coolest link party I've ever seen. It's being hosted by one of my favorite blogs and they've invited everyone to join in. I don't know if I'm brave enough to start throwing up vlogs. I have a very annoying laugh, and I'm pretty much always laughing.  I do not know if you are ready for me live and in Technicolor. Who know's? Maybe one day we will become the Electric Elmo NewsREEL. In any case, check these guys out. The first one is on Wednesday. Click on the link above and hop on over to see Adeline's Daddy and the prompts for upcoming group Vlogs and the dates on which you need to post them.

Color me amped.