Let’s say you’re seven months pregnant and you decide to take a little weekend jaunt with one of your best friends. You know where I would go? No, not Palm Springs or a fancy spa in the Arizona desert. I would – duh – head to Vegas, the land of carousing, drinking, and gambling, where evenings start at 9pm and everyone wears teeny-tiny bikinis to lie by the pool. Because as an enormously pregnant lady you will totally fit in.

You know what else I would do? I’d try on swimsuit cover-ups in a darkened dressing room so you don’t realize yours is actually see-through until you’ve been parading around your hotel all day and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and realize, THIS COVER-UP IS NOT COVERING ANYTHING UP.

Sigh. Sometimes I make some seriously nut-job decisions.

Having said all that and coupled with the additional fact Heather contracted some virus, which burst her eardrum (right before we got on the plane, nonetheless), we had a fantastic time. As Chris said, wherever we went was just a background for catching up. Which we did for three days straight (Heather powered through her laryngitis because we obviously had very important things to talk about like why the hell won’t Kim Kardashian finally give in and start wearing on maternity clothes already?!?!). We slept in until we woke up, ate dinner at a leisurely pace, and enjoyed the sun. In short, we had a blast.

In fact, I’d say the most stressful part (outside of Heather’s illness and the worry I’d get called onto stage during Zumanity, Cirque du Soleil’s “sensual” show, which was a very real fear because people were getting naked and I’m in no sort of shape for those hijinks) was figuring out what I was going to wear to the pool. I’ve avoided maternity swimsuits because they’re all kind of, ahem, maternity-esque, but Jill convinced me it was preferable to my sitting by the pool in jeans and a long sleeve shirt, which is what my cheap, San Francisco self was contemplating.

In fact, once I got going, I decided on a whole look (of course, I did) that hopefully said, yes, my drink is virgin, but I still know how to rock an accessory. Maybe not a cover-up, but that’s a different story.

1. If you’ve seen me anytime in the last month, you’ve seen this dress from Old Navy because a. maxis don’t fall down like pants do and b. I’m not buying any more damn clothes // 2. Jaunty fedora from Urban Outfitters // 3. Sweet shoulder length earrings from Bella Boutique // 4. Yes, that’s a maternity swimsuit (pretty cute, right?) 5. Don’t worry, you can wear these sandals even when you’re not building a human

Last night I almost burned the house down. And not in a “Ha, ha, she almost burned the house down” way (although is there ever really a “ha, ha way” to burn your house down?);  it was more like a “holy shit, we’re lucky to have somewhere to sleep tonight” way. Basically I was cooking taco meat, put it on simmer, went out to run errands (which may have included a delicious pastry from John Campbell’s Irish Bakery), picked up Chris and headed home to find the house smelling like charred beef. I’m such a terrible cook, I honestly didn’t think twice about it – isn’t meat supposed to smell like a BBQ gone bad? – until I went to the stove and realized the beef had pretty much curled up into balls of charcoal because I’d left an open flame going for two hours. And, more terrifyingly, there was a paper bag, on the stove, sitting inches from the open flame. Who leaves paper bags on her stove?!? And who messes up taco meat using a packet?!?

Chris was such a trooper he actually ATE the taco meat, although there wasn’t much sour cream left by the time he was done (very reminiscent of the time I cooked spaghetti for my family when I was about eight and everyone had to gag down noodles that I’d boiled for almost an hour. Longer = better, right?).

And I’d love to tell you this was an isolated incident, but I have a whole list. Oh, you want me to share it with you to make you feel better about your far superior brain power? Here you go and, keep in mind, these are only the events I remember. Dude, we’re in trouble.

DUMB THINGS I’VE DONE WHILE PREGNANT:

Things I’ve thrown away: a brand new tube of mascara, my keys, a just cooked bagel

My least favorite was the keys because I spent a full hour trying to find them and finally realized I probably tossed them with the trash from the car (hey, at least I brought in the trash from the car).

My favorite was when the teenager at Einstein’s handed me my bagel and I walked over to the trash and threw it away. Literally. He handed it to me and I threw it in the trash (not even the compost, for God’s sake). I went back up to the counter and we had this little exchange:

Me: I just threw away my bagel.

Him: Why would you do that?

Me: Because I’m pregnant?

Him: Huh.

Yes, my dear bagel friend, huh, indeed. (He very kindly made me another one and didn’t even charge me.)

I know, let’s play Chris’ favorite game called “What the Hell is My Wife Talking About?” If you can correctly guess the word I’m looking for in all three instances, you are officially not pregnant. Or having a really cognizant day. Congratulations!

1. Can you get me the thing where I put my things to carry them around when I leave the house? (Oh, you mean a purse?)

2. I need to go to the place where they keep our money and hand out suckers. (That would be a bank.)

3. So I read this article on the… Oh, you know, the place where I work. It’s fast and tells us things. (The word you’re looking for is the Internet. You know the place where I work.)

Does my husband deserve a round of applause or what?

Things I’ve dropped:
-a Starbucks that I literally just let go of. Not over a table or a counter. I pretty much just threw it on the floor (they also very kindly made me another one).

-my phone, only 759 times

-my sunglasses, only 354 times

-an entire dish of pasta, which I also just threw on the floor. Which was weird because I was really, really hungry.

BUT NOT MY DAUGHTER. Phew.

General Dumbness:
-At my baby shower, a friend gave me a card that read, “I like it when my husband and son dress the same” (hint: this is a big clue). I then opened two hats – one baby-sized and one much larger – and exclaimed how great it was the baby would have a hat to fit no matter what the size of his head when he was born. What I was actually thinking was ”OMG, my son’s head better not fit into that enormous hat or it’s going to be one helluva a birth.”

And, yes, the hat fits Chris’ head quite nicely.

-Today I texted my friend a question we had discussed in length last night (like 10 or so texts back and forth) as if we’d never had last night’s conversation. It’s like I’m an amnesia patient and every day is a totally clean slate…

Feel better? The scary thing is I still have eight more weeks out in the wild… I’ll keep you updated.

I am constantly amazed by the loveliness that shows up in my life – wonderful friends and family, a rockin’ kid, and lots of adventures to keep me on my toes. And there’s one person behind all of it who truly makes it possible – who makes me laugh even when I’m pretty sure there’s nothing funny going on, who always says “yes” no matter how harebrained the scheme (and how many sisters it involves), who believes in me when I’m not sure there’s much left to even see, who lets me sleep in on Saturday mornings for “the good of the family”, who has become a deliciously competent and outstanding father, and who also happens to be the funniest, most fun, kindest and even-tempered man I know.

Four years ago I took a leap of faith into what I imagined would be a soft place to land. Turns out it also includes scaling to heights I hadn’t even registered as possible. (*Dude, I warned you.)

Happy Anniversary!

**Chris is totally dying right now (if he’s read this) because he is notoriously private while I’m embarrassingly…not. But, sometimes you have to “Say Anything” it out there and let the world know you’re psyched you landed a hot, British hunk-a-burning-love, am I right?

I’ve started like 17 different posts this week, which is pretty much how my life feels right now. A little here, a little there, and not much actually accomplished. We’ve all been sick around here for what feels like my entire life, but, knowing I can be a tad dramatic, is probably more like a month. Either way I’ve been lying low, taking lots of naps, and trying to conserve my energy for our afternoon Elmo-athons (the kid has Elmos coming out her ears, which is perhaps not a sentence I ever thought I would write…).

What I really want to do, though, is crawl under the covers and read the week away. Did you guys used to do that when you were home sick? It was heaven. I’d watch “The Love Boat” (a huge treat since we didn’t watch TV) and then get my stack of books and tuck in. (Yes, I was also the kid who had friends over for “reading dates” where we literally wouldn’t talk for hours while reading side-by-side. We may have also checked out books to each other and implemented a modified version of the Dewey Decimal System. I never said I was cool.)

Unless I miraculously get a call from the Babysitting Fairy, I’m probably going to have to keep sneaking in reading time while microwaving or brushing my teeth, but, just in case, I’d like us all to be prepared. So, here are my fave books from the past couple of months.

1. The Expats by Chris Pavone: I may have waxed poetic earlier about what a huge fan I am of the thriller, but there is nothing better than stumbling upon a page-turner where you’re willing to risk an exhausted day with a toddler in order to find out how the damn thing ends. This one is worth the caffeine necessary to get through the next day…

2. The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe: I’ve gotta admit the title of this one kept me at bay for a couple of months  because it sounded so…intense (hey, I’m pregnant and, my husband might say, a teensy bit hormonal). And it is, but it is also a poignant love letter to the power of books and motherhood. I found myself scribbling down Mary Ann’s words of wisdom as guideposts for my own parenting and how to live my life (everything from the importance of thank you notes to managing family and work to buying art from young artists at a point in their lives where it will make a real difference). I first borrowed it from the library, but ended up ordering a copy so I can refer back to it.

3. The Mystery of Mercy Close by Marian Keyes: Okay, so I screamed when I saw a copy of this over Christmas in a UK bookstore. It doesn’t come out here until April, she’s one of my favorite authors, and I could lord the copy over my entire family? I think that deserved a (potentially unsettling) scream of joy, although the lady next to me in the queue may not have agreed.

Marian never fails to deliver. Her books are frothy and fast-moving, but deal with characters who are working their way through what feels like very real pain. And, they are invariably hilarious! Maybe it’s because of all my sisters, but I have a soft spot for the Walsh sisters and I am happy to report Helen is as quirky and charming in a totally messed up way as the rest of her brood.

4. Nothing to Envy by Barbara Demick: I knew things were bad in North Korea, but reading this book gave me an entirely new level of chills. Told from the perspective of six ex-pats now living in South Korea, it’s full of harrowing tales of starvation, propaganda and fear (way to sell it, Kara). But, it’s also full of humanity and stories of ingenuity and survival. To me, it hits that sweet spot in non-fiction where Demick drops you so completely into her subjects’ lives that you’re left thinking about their stories months afterwards.

Now, please, share! Are you reading anything that you love? I need some new books!