Happy Holidays! Please pass the everything...

I just realized something tonight.  I've been eating like a recently rescued refugee this past week (this is not the revelation), and I haven't actually weighed myself since my last doctor's appointment (this is).  That was something like 2 weeks ago.

I think that may be the single most emotionally healthy thing I've ever said about myself.  I think I might be growing.

Annnnnnd now it's done.  I'm a little curious.  I'm a little nervous.  Last I checked I was weighing in around 155-156 first thing in the morning, and around 160 at night and dressed.  I don't think that's what the scale's going to say anymore.  Especially since I have been growing so fast you can almost see it with the naked eye.  Yikes. That's gonna cost me something.

Okay, that's it, I'm gonna check.

Ooooh praise the good Lord in heaven, it's not too bad.  Fully dressed in jeans and 2 sweaters, after having eaten a big turkey sandwich, two pieces of fudge (I intended to share with my daughter, but somehow, she didn't notice what I had), and following it later with a bowl of frosted flakes (I'm starting to think I have a problem.  I'm pretty sure a 7 ounce baby doesn't require this much food),  I only weighed in at 161.

That's right.  I haven't gain 10 pounds.  I've eaten fudge for breakfast (yes, the fudge is gone now) and I haven't gained 10 pounds.  I can only assume that I spent the last year building up so much body good will with all of my fresh foods, slim fast bars and micro-paced running, that I'm actually somehow allowed to spend these months living like a sedentary pig-dog without suffering the consequences.  This is pretty foh-reakin awesome.

Okay.  I'm passed my state of panic, and I'm a little sleepy.  Panic does that to a crazy pregnant woman.

Hope you're all finding out awesome new ways to beat nature and science tonight!

I'm dreaming of a plastic Christmas!

I wouldn't have thought so.  Growing up, I fought strongly on the side of real.  When my husband told me he grew up with fake, I responded with a level of emotion that would have been a little more appropriate had he just informed me that he spent his childhood being molested by his local religious official.  But he wasn't, so it's okay.

Point is, I never wanted a fake tree.  They seemed weird a cheap and trashy, somehow.  And you guys know me, it's high class all the way baby.

But then, well, stuff happened.  Stuff like living in rental homes wherein we were contractually obligated  NOT to destroy the carpet with tree sap.  Freakin landlord Nazis. So we searched every store we could find and found one we liked, 7.5 feet and NOT prelit.  (We didn't think prelit sounded good.  Prelit sounds like, will burn out every 1-2 years like all of our other Christmas lights, and will need frequent and expensive replacing.)

Anyway, as we unpacked our Christmas tree on the day after Thanksgiving this year, I had a thought.  Followed by, like, a bunch of other thoughts.

First thought: This is OUR Christmas tree.

This is our tree's fifth year as a part of our family.  We've had it a few months longer than we've had our cat.  Every year, we take the day after Thanksgiving, pop in the same Christmas CD, and assemble OUR tree.  We're actually getting pretty good at it.

Our family is a fake Christmas tree family.  Our kids won't have memories like mine, of wandering through a parking light fighting over the merits of flocking, of spending three straight hours trying to find the least bald side and the least leany angle.  They won't have feet stabbed by pine needles that have dried into tiny, sharp weapons and hidden themselves in the carpet.  And they will never have to worry about their tree drying into a terrifying brown fire hazard before Christmas day.  They'll have memories of pulling OUR tree out of storage, and putting it back together with family.  They'll get to have a Christmas tree up for a month or longer every year because why not?  It's not like it's going anywhere.

It seems my bias has become no less intense, I just sort of switched sides.

And to understand why, Let me show you the tree that stole my heart.

It cost 79.98.  I know this only because it's emblazoned on the box we keep repacking it in every January.  And once again, this is year 5.  That's already only $16 a year.  So instead of spending money on throw away trees every year, we buy ourselves and our child(ren) each an ornament that somehow represents the year.  Our kids will get theirs, each marked with their names and years, when they grow up and move away some day.  In other words, we may not have a real pine tree, but our home is filled with PLENTY of sap. Hey-o!

And yes, the trunk-stick-thingy wrapped in what seems to be a close cousin to pipe cleaners leaves a little to be desired.  However, keep in mind that I have been a super present buying ninja the past couple of weeks, and it won't be long till those babies are wrapped and that stick is appropriately hidden.

So now that we've entered the holiday season and my living room has taken on a distinctly Santa's Workshop-ish vibe, I thought I'd write a little love note to that big hunk of metal and plastic I've become so fond of.

Hope you all are enjoying your Thanksgiving weekends and finding something to love as well!  Also, I hope none of you got trampled to death on Black Friday, or got in the way of that woman with the pepper spray.  I swear, there are no amount of savings that I probably can't find anyway that would get me out in that lunatic mess again.  You people be crazy!

Breaking Bad. Breaking VERY Bad.

My husband has gotten us into the show Breaking Bad over the last couple of weeks.  Personally, I find it disturbing.  And terrifying.  Completely, and utterly disturbing and terrifying.

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, I'll give you a quick rundown of the show's premise.  Our main character, your average, ordinary science teacher, discovers he has cancer and will probably soon die, leaving his family destitute.  But unlike say, a normal person might respond to this same scenario, this guy decides it would be in his best interest to start cooking Meth.  And then, you know, hilarity ensues.

Now a little bit about me: I don't like breaking rules.  I don't like NOT following directions.  I'm one of the worlds least convincing liars.  In fact, if you want to be MY lie detector, watch my neck.  If I start lying, you'd be able to SEE my pulse, my heart races so hard.  Being around people who don't listen when someone's talking sends me into a blind rage.  Just the very thought of doing something like having my front windows tinted or driving while holding my phone to my ear sends me into a  mild panic.

No, it's not healthy.  It's most certainly not normal.  But there you have it.  That is my particular brand of crazy.

In this show, our main character walks up to the edge of total ruin, and dances right past, almost unfazed.  Okay, maybe unfazed is a little strong, but in a similar situation, assuming I had not immediately fallen down dead from some sort of freak out attack, I can only imagine that I'd be hyperventilating, curled up in a ball on the floor, my face red from crying while I tapped my heals and begged to go home.  So that being said, yeah. He seems unfazed to me.

I guess the moral of the story here is this: Know thy strengths.  If YOU are an incredibly neurotic about rule following, maybe don't invest your time watching a show that deals with drug dealing, substance abuse, and murder.  And if you get cancer, rely on friends and family. Get a second job if you need.  Heck, just get some freaking life insurance now so you don't need to worry about it.  Because by season two, this whole meth thing just doesn't seem to be working out so well for him.

Four months and looking every minute of it.

I received a lot of skepticism after people saw my pictures from Halloween.  Seems I didn't look pregnant enough for anyone on October 31st, (See below. Sidenote, isn't my family just adorable? Seriously though.  This woman got herself into a whole kaboodle of gorgeousness somehow.)  I've been trying to convince people I've, as they say, "popped" since then, but I figured some pictures might speak it a little louder.

 Sooooo, this post is for all of my belly-doubters out there.  BOOM.  How do you like them... watermelons?

4 months pregnant, and our little dude wants everyone to know it.  Howdy-ho world!  Yep.  Cuz my son is a corny cowboy.  Giddy-up.

And here is a my super dramatic pregnant belly pose.  I think this one is getting framed.

These pictures also feature my new favorite article of clothing:  Maternity skinny jeans.  You might argue, like my husband did, that skinny jeans may not be the most flattering look for a pregnant woman. Something about really emphasizing the ratio between calf/ankle size and butt/belly size, I don't know.  But just the same, these pants are stretchy and comfortable and allow me to wear my scrunchy knee-high boots, so I've decided to throw conventional wisdom to the wind.

Also, this is another thing.  Below are pictures of me pregnant last time, 18 weeks along to my current 16 1/2.  I feel secure that I'm looking mucho attractiver in my old age.  I think I earned myself some freakin skinny jeans.

Doncha think? Yeah you do.  You know you do.

So there's the pictures, hope they are super gratifying to all of you who were demanding either my pictures or my blood.  I can say it's gratifying for me.  See those pictures on the floor behind my feet?  Well, every single one of our pictures are on the walls now.  Yep. I'd say "it's the little things", but really, that's a huge thing.  You should all be wickedly impressed.

Special Day, Completely Overlooked. Oops.

It seems that in all the excitement of 11-11-11, I overlooked the reason that the day was special for me.  And really, special for all of us.  Because yesterday, AEISY turned 1!!

Woohoo!!  Happy Birthday An Exercise in Spinning Yarn!!!  My my how you've grown.

In celebration, I went back and read my first post.  I initially created this puppy to give me some accountability.  I wanted to start living more on purpose, to get more accomplished, to change my life and myself for the better.  I was happy to have that year's worth of perspective, I gotta say I think things are moving in a positive direction.

And I'm going to keep the blog going.  If for no other reason, in 6 months I'll need to start up weight losing again, and talking about it makes me feel good.  I'm certainly not going to put it off so much this time.  I don't know if you noticed, but I'm generally averse to dieting over the holidays, and I'd rather not have to calorie count too severely over Christmas 2012.

So as an update, here are my 1 year old blog stats:

Posts: This one makes number 124

Comments on Posts: 77.  Although technically, most people just comment on my facebook page instead, so this number isn't entirely accurate.

Pageviews: 5,320

Official "willing to admit to it" Followers: 20

So not bad, I guess.  Maybe not great, I'm really not sure.  I don't know anyone else gets in terms of blog stats, except that I know a few special people get an income from doing this and I most certainly haven't found a way to make that happen.  Nuts.

So cheers, my dear, faithful readers.  And here's to another year, and to better content, and to becoming internet famous and finding weird ways to make lots of lots of money and quitting your day job.  And I, for one, will be happy with at least one or two of those.

HAPPY AEISY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!

FOOOOOOOOD!!!!

As of today, I'm just starting my 5th month of pregnancy.  Pregnant, it should be mentioned, to the hungriest, pickiest bouncing baby boy that has ever been conceived.  And in this pregnancy, I'm starting to realize something:  This was the best freaking idea ever.

A couple of weeks ago was Halloween.  I ate enough candy to make myself just a little sick.  I've been enjoying chili and hot chocolate, and all sorts of awesome comfort foods. And I've been doing so guiltlessly.  Because I am pregnant, so I get to do, well, just about whatever I want.

I've done the math now, I'll be about 1/2 way through my fifth month for Thanksgiving, and 1/2 way through my sixth month over Christmas.  These facts are additionally awesome, because they have me firmly entrenched in my second trimester.  Important because first trimester, you're exhausted and nauseous. Third trimester, you're exhausted and barely able to move for the nearly full grown child swimming around inside of you.  Second trimester, quite simply offers you the greatest potential and capability for eating the greatest amount of the greatest foods.

And I TOTALLY intend to.

This might seem like I'm weirdly obsessed with food, and if that's what you're thinking, you're right.  Big shocker, too.  Have you forgotten how fat I got?  Also, there's this other important point:  Last year, I started the month of October at 170 pounds, and started January at 157.  No, it's not a ton, but just the same, I lost 13 pounds over the holidays.  I ran.  I avoided having any empty calories around the house.  I ate fine at holidays, but words like "in moderation" were really important to me.  The holidays are nice, always, of course, but dieting over the holidays is one of those "like kissing your sister" situations.  

So the moral of this story is, having a "viable excuse" for wickid amounts of overeating, and getting to experience your first every guilt-free holiday season is just plain incredible.  If you can plan it, and you can't, so probably don't worry about trying, plan on being pregnant over the holidays.  It'll freaking change your world.

P.S.  I'm still weighing in around 155.  The weight is climbing, but not as fast as you'd think based on this blog post.  Just thought I'd clarify ;-)