it's now a tradition to post about events days after they occur

While some people are recovering from the insanity that is Black Friday shopping (what unnecessary electronic on God's green earth is worth leaving your warm bed at 1am?), I'm wondering how many more meals of turkey and sweet potato casserole we have in our future. Probably six. I believe this is filed under First World Problems.

I may not have fancy china dishes, but I do have silverware that falls into the Very Fancy catergory and I love breaking it out for all big occasions. I keep it in a very secure location in the garage- between a digital picture frame and a pile of Christopher's uniform jackets. Obviously Martha Stewart keeps her holiday silverware in a similar location. 

I thought I'd be smart and do Thanksgiving dinner shopping on Tuesday. Avoid the rush and all that. I normally don't shop at the commissary, but I had to return a book at the post library and the commissary is right across the way. I've scientifically calculated the best time to shop at the commissary and unfortunately I missed the golden window this week. Either that or everyone else has also discovered the golden window. Whatever the situation, I was shopping with about 252 other people. If you've ever shopped at the commissary, can you agree that its name is a compound word made up of communal and misery? 

Some flowers to keep you from hyperventilating as you think of your own traumatic shopping experiences. 

Christopher met me there and we had a slight conundrum when it came to selecting a turkey. We were the only ones eating it so we didn't want a 26 pounder, but we also wanted more than a turkey breast. We thought we solved the problem when we discovered the perfect sized little turkey. Except we couldn't tell if it was a turkey or a chicken. All the wrapper said was roaster. It was in the turkey section, but I put my money on it being a chicken. PROBLEM IN THE MEAT DEPARTMENT. We didn't want to purchase mystery meat so we put a 10lb hunk of frozen meat that clearly said turkey on the label into the carriage/cart/buggy/whatever and called it a day.  

I don't mean to boast, but I was proud of the first turkey I cooked on my own. Even if it did look like a chicken.

Watch Sesame Grow, week 21

Edition: Is this as repetitive to read as it is to write?

Please ignore that we had lighting and wardrobe issues. Apparently it wasn't a good idea to wear a black shirt when having said lighting issues.  

Size of baby: Weighs between 3/4 and one pound. 
Fun fact: Sesame's eyebrows have formed. The baby normally moves around in the morning, but Sunday morning it was bopping around even more than normal during the music at church. I'm glad he/she likes hymns, but I'm waiting for the moment it breaks out the dance moves for Josh Turner.
Size of mother: I haven't been anywhere with a scale so once again I have no numbers to report. It's probably just as well because seeing what I've gained would probably depress me. 
What's on the menu: Much to my sorrow, I still haven't craved anything. I've slowed down on my Dorito consumption because I'm fairly certain it's not featured on the diet of pregnant champions, but I still eat my fair share. Potatoes of all varieties (hooray for chips and French fries!) are safe so the potato farmers of America can thank me for keeping them in business. We made this recipe the other day and it was a big hit. I hope you can handle how gourmet it is. 
Worst part of the week: Some of my bones feel like they're about to break in half and sometimes I have a hard time breathing and my heart goes about 162bpm. It's all as pleasant as you can imagine. 
Best part of the week: When Christopher thought I finally lost it and stole someone else's baby. I asked the dance teacher's husband if I could hold their baby at the end of our watlzing lesson but Christopher didn't hear me ask. All he saw was me taking the baby away from her father. She wasn't too pleased with the arrangement and wailed very loudly but at least I got to hold a baby. The last time I held a baby (not counting baby Freddy who is the size of a two year old) was last Christmas. Between babysitting, the church nursery and volunteering at the children's hospital, the Sarah of past years was ALWAYS holding babies. This portion of the country is very lacking in babies to hold. 
Other things I have to say: I have a lot of issues with my pants. I was wearing regular pants with the button undone but that doesn't work so well anymore. I have maternity pants but I spend all day pulling them up. So either I walk around with my pants unbuttoned feeling very undressed or I walk around pulling my pants up very three steps. Bring on the sweatpants. It's a very fashionable life I lead.

l suppose I must now live a life where I curl up with my bifocals and read the AARP magazine

I thought it was time to do some sort of life update that didn't involve pictures of my slowly expanding stomach, but I got sidetracked by taking the My Mental Age test (again) and now I've spiraled into the pits of depression. 

Two weeks ago it said I was 43.

Today it said 46.

HOW DID I AGE THREE YEARS IN TWO WEEKS AND WHAT CAN I DO TO REVERSE THIS TRAUMATIC SITUATION?

Although that would explain my gray hairs.

I'm convinced this drastic aging has to do with the answers I gave regarding my views on a) what should not be shared on social media and b) that the intended way for a baseball hat to be worn is for the visor to be in the front. See? The below situation could have been avoided if he was wearing his hat the way the inventor intended.

So now I feel useless to the world because I've officially skipped the ages of 25-45 and I'm not one bit wiser. Case in point: today I went for my weekly visit to the post office. A mild panic attack happened because I didn't know if the proper answer to "Are there any liquids in this box?" was yes or no when the product in question was lotion. Either I missed that lesson in science or it was never discussed because HOW SHOULD I KNOW? I didn't want to seem stupid, so I twisted my keys around for a minute before saying, "Uuumm. Well. There's lotion in there." Ronnie had obviously been trained by the USPS powers that be and could be responsible for figuring out the chemical properties of lotion. 

Tonight, provided no one gets sick or needs to take a last minute trip to Walmart to pick up prescriptions (and we all know I'm not talking about myself here), we're going to see a comedian in Nashville. I really hope he's funny. Is that too much to ask? Sometimes Christopher will watch comedians on Netflix and will go minutes on end without laughing. What's the point of watching a comedian if he's not making you laugh? If a comedian can't made me laugh within the first 10 minutes (and I mean LAUGH, not ha that's funny), I'm over him. He has failed at his job.

A second burning thought about tonight's event is this:

I'm especially looking for something of the chip and dip variety.

I just saw that on the comedy club website it says Dress code: Yes, please wear clothes. Why do they need to specify the need for clothes? Have they had issues with people assuming it's a nudist establishment?

Maybe I really am 46 years old if the thought of a bunch of naked strangers being in the same place as me makes me uncomfortable.

something tells me this doesn't belong with the nursing pillows

Watch Sesame Grow, week 20/5 months

Edition: We made it to the halfway point. Hallelujah. 

A few notes about this weeks board: 

I realize it looks like a girl's baby shower on the top half and an Easter colored Thanksgiving on the bottom half. In other words, it doesn't really match. But it is what it is. Not to mention that the turkey took me a good 25 minutes to draw and therefore will probably still be on featured the week of Valentines. 

Size of baby: Approximately 10 inches or "the size of a banana". I have bananas on my counter and none are 10", but whatever. 

Fun fact: Sesame's favorite time to wiggle is in the morning and around 5pm. 

Size of mother: For the first time someone other than Christopher or my mom told me I look pregnant. No one will question I'm pregnant when I'm the size of a hippo in a few months.
What's on the menu: Bread products and milk with a side of Doritos. I discovered the hard way I can't eat much meat anymore. If I eat it before 6 o'clock I'm usually fine, but if not... This development is a real pity as I am NOT the vegetarian type.
Worst part of the week: I may or may not have sent Jenn a message that read something along the lines of "I'm currently taking applications for anyone who would like to help me by carrying this child/dealing with the symptoms. Months 5-9 are currently available." She's a good friend so she immediately signed up for months 7-9.  

So that pretty much sums up how the last two days have been.

(Months 5-7 are still available to those interested. Please note that no one who helps me out gets to keep Sesame. I'm just loaning him/her out for a few months so I can regain some sanity out of the goodness of my heart. You will be compensated in fudge and cookies.)

Best part of the week: 1. Christopher felt the baby kick!

2. I couldn't go to church this week so Sarah and Jordan from Sunday school brought me flowers. So sweet of them! 

a personal birthday message from Sesame

Dear cousin Sadie,

My mom told me it's your birthday today. I kicked her in the stomach to let her know I heard which she thought meant I was jealous she was talking about another child, but in reality I'm really excited. I hear birthday parties are a fun time and I wish I could be at yours. 

I'm glad you liked the vet kit I my parentals picked out for you. Logan said you got a shopping cart full of fake food for your birthday and my mom got a little jealous. Apparently she likes playing grocery store. She's very grown up like that. I can already tell she's going to be the type of parent who tells people I want a particular toy because she wants to play with it. 

Here's a birthday card I'd send you if I had access to stamps and a mailbox. 

I can't wait to meet you at Christmas. Or more technically, be in the same state as you. Hopefully we won't be meeting in person for a while.

Love,

Sesame 

a common theme seems to be that I think talking will make things better

Occasionally I have interactions with others that leave me wondering what happened. I've been told that sometimes I talk too quietly which makes people guess what I said, but that doesn't necessarily explain the numerous conversations I've had lately that didn't make sense. 

Example number 1. 
I went to the post office to mail Jenn a package. The man behind the counter asked if I was sending the package to someone on a boat. I answered that it was going to Korea. I'm not sure where the miscommunication happened, because he then said, "You used masking tape and it will melt in the heat of the desert." I have never participated in the National Geographic World Championships, but I am fairly certain that Korea is not made up primarily of deserts. Even if it is, Jenn lives in the city so MOOT POINT. I didn't feel qualified to speak* on the melting properties of masking tape so I replied with "Oh." Because I am always very eloquent. Then he made me walk all the way to the other side of the room to get not-meltable tape.

*I will usually keep talking even when I'm not qualified to do so. It's a gift, really.

Example number 2.
I went to the Mennonite store to get Daniel a few things for his birthday. I found some maple walnut fudge but wasn't sure how well it would mail so I went up to the girl bagging seasonings and said, "Do you think this would mail well or would it melt?" Again, some sort of miscommunication occurred because she looked at me with a funny face and said, "Well, if you leave it out in the sun it will melt." Although I consider myself the biggest supporter of the US Postal Service and have bought more than my fair share of Forever Stamps since 2007, I do not know all their ins and outs. That doesn't mean I can't state with quite a bit of confidence that the box would most likely not be strapped to the top of some truck in order to get as much sun as possible between Tennessee and Massachusetts. So I said, "It will be in a box and I don't think it will be spending much time in the sun." She thought for a minute before replying (and here's where things started to go even further down the wrong trail), "A box in the sun? Because then it will melt and turn into a ball of fudge." Did she not hear the part where I said MAIL? WILL THIS MAIL WELL? I started to say, "No. I mean..." but instead thanked her for her time and moved on.  

The fudge arrived intact and unmelted, just as I bought it. The postal service pulled through yet again.

Example number 3. 
I've had my name for many years now. 24 to be exact. Sarah has been on the most popular girls names lists for about the last 800 years. Everyone and their mother knows someone named Sarah. I'm friends with about 12 on Facebook. Occasionally I need to clarify that I have an H at the end, but everyone I have ever come in contact with is familiar with the spelling. 

Then I moved here.

Since we moved here 15 months ago, I have been asked how to spell my name no less than 17 times. I started keeping track because it seems so ridiculous to me. Usually people will ask my name then look at me with a slightly confused face while asking, "What was that again? Did you say Sienna?" It's gotten to the point where I generally skip the 'Sarah with an H' speech and go straight to spelling it right off the bat.

The boy doing the sign up sheet at Zumba really took the cake for spelling incapabilities.

Boy: "What's your name?"
Me: "Sarah."
Very long pause during which he moved the pen around but didn't write anything.
Me (trying to be helpful): "Sarah with an H."
I looked away for a second and when I looked down at the paper I saw he had written SH.
Me: "The H goes at the end. It's Sarah like Sarah and Abraham from the Bible." 
(For the record, I don't know why I went that route. It's not like the Sarah in the Bible is some sort of commonly known character like Noah. Although he probably couldn't have spelled that either.)
Boy: "So it's S-e-h?"
Me: "No. It's Sa...I can write it if that's easier."

I'd still be there if we were also trying to spell my last name. 

Watch Sesame Grow, Week 19

Edition: The one with a bunch a pictures

Size of baby: Sesame weighs 12oz, has a head circumference of 7cm., and heart rate of 150.
Fun fact: He/she is the cutest baby ever. I KNOW. I'm already the parent who whips out baby pictures all the time, but I am not going to apologize. You'll just have to get use to it.

Size of mother: I've only gained two pounds which was a surprise (read also: a relief) because I predicted I had gained at least 7. Christopher did not predict any numbers. That brings us to a grand total of 130. 
What's on the menu: Beef tips have been removed from the menu. Learned that lesson.
Worst part of the week: Nausea and my achy breaky back.
Best part of the week: 1. I felt slightly better last week than I have in a long time. I'd weep for joy but crying makes me nauseous so instead I'll high-five everyone and tell myself to keep up the good work.
2. Sesame picked out a card and two books to give Christopher for his birthday. Apparently funds are limited in Hotel Womb because I dished out the cash, but Sesame picked out the gift. 

3. We saw Sesame today. The cutest baby ever?  Have I mentioned that already? 

Bonus picture: We got Sesame a baby pumpkin. 

fall rainbow

no birthday people were named in the writing of this post

Someone around here is having a birthday.

It's not me and it's certainly not Sesame, so that leaves only this chunk of cuteness.

We're not allowed to make a fuss about it (no big cake! no need to buy candles! no balloons!) but he who shall not be named is going to have a party anyway. Obviously. You can't live with me and not at least have a birthday meal using the birthday plate. 

Happy birthday, favorite husband. I hope Sesame has your little smirk. It's sure to get lots of girlfriends/boyfriend in the church nursery. 

Watch Sesame Grow, Week 18

 Edition: Not much has changed since last week  

Size of baby: Approximately 51/2" long and 7oz, or about the weight of a pepper.

Fun Fact: Sesame is flexing his/her arms and legs. No, I haven't felt any jabs from the inside.

Size of mother: Still rocking the non-maternity clothes. As stated 12 thousand times, my scale isn't accurate but I'm probably up a few pounds. I told Christopher we should bet on how much I'll weigh at my appointment next week, but he adamantly refused to pay a game in which he guesses a woman's weight.
What's on the menu: I'd really like a lemondrop martini.

Worst part of the week: I'm taking a break from discussing my never-ending aliments.
Best part of the week: After weeks of attempting to make a craft, I finally made on this week. A lady from Sunday school had a baby shower so I made her a diaper cake. I feel bad that I've only made one thing for my baby and here I am making things for other babies, but it is what it is. Don't tell Sesame. I don't want any jealousy issues.