30/70

I bit off Chamblee's toenail tonight. That's right. Not only do I pick her boogers and wipe her butt, I also bite her toenails off for her. She kept grabbing at her toe and crying. We couldn't find a darn thing wrong with her other than the fact that her toenail looked to be a little long. Maybe she was getting it snagged on the carpet or something. A hangnail. Who knows. We seem to have misplaced the baby clippers so I just bit it off.

Turns out she was just tired. Ready for nite nite. Now she can have sweet dreams with a trimmed big toenail.

Big shout out to everyone who told me their version of how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. Wow. I had no idea there were so many ways to make that sandwich. So many ways, in fact, that I think if anyone else ever had that problem I could throw in my recipe as a serious option. I think I will. Not that any other 20-something will feel the need to ask how to make a grilled cheese anytime soon, but still. Maybe to Cham's kindergarten class. 


What else is going on. Let's see.

I pretty much finalized all of my Christmas shopping today. Both sides of our family are doing 'kids only' presents this year, and I love it. I love shopping for kids. As I was wrapping presents today I realized that Chamblee has about 10 presents under the tree. So far. From "us". Isn't that insane? For a 1 year old? I say "us" lightly. Sure, the tag is from mama & daddy... but really. There are things I have been hoarding all year. Things that I couldn't resist at the time- so I bought and stashed away "for Christmas". Now it's absurd. I also realized that I have no size perception. (is that a real thing?) Things that were for her stocking and are now painfully. obviously. not going to fit. What a joke. So they became presents. And I had to go buy stocking stuffers. Lunatic. Don't even get me started on the baby boy's presents...


I'm having about 100 Braxton Hicks contractions a day. And eating Tums like I was eating Oreos. Boo hiss. But yay for a baby with potential for a head full of hair! Sweet little man.

30 weeks tomorrow. 70 days to go. 

Until Next Time,
The Guff