Give a Dog a Bone

Well, it never fails. Fried chicken= fire department gets called. I can always tell when it's about to happen. It's that quick moment between "everything's fine" and "the kitchen is filled with smoke". Happens in a second. One day I'll get it right... one day...

We have been pretty busy around here. Projects for baby, for the house, for Christmas. The place is a wreck, but I have one more gift to buy and one more gift to make and then I am all done with this year's gifting. Tomorrow. Let's hope for tomorrow. 


This year K and I stole an idea from my brother and his wife (among others) and are celebrating Christmas with gifts in categories of Want, Need, Wear and Read. I've found it makes shopping easier and a little more fun. We never make lists of things that we want (need, wear, or read for that matter) so it's always a big surprise on Christmas morning. This is the first year in several that we haven't opted to just do stockings. We just aren't big on gifts. We like the food and the time most.

I went ridiculously, insanely, she-is-only-one overboard on Cham. I think I went appropriate on baby boy. Poor dogs. Their stockings aren't even up this year. I'll get 'em a bone.

Cham has been a busy little bee. Gets bigger and heavier every single day. I LOVE, l-o-v-e, looove this age. She's getting her big personality and it's awesome. I love her so, so, much.

I've been telling her that there's a baby in my tummy and sometimes she will walk up to me, pat my belly, and say "baby". It's precious. Last week, however, she thought the baby lived somewhere else. And proceeded to pat that somewhere else nonstop as we walked through the aisles of Marshall's.

See for yourself:

I could. not. stop. laughing. And she would. not. stop. doing it.

She got a little confused, but don't get it twisted. She's a genius. I gave her scrap pieces of crepe paper today and she sorted them by color. After she got them really, really flat. That's right. Genius.

I hit 30 weeks and promptly lost the ability to sleep through the night. I'm still holding out on maternity pants. I've got 2 pairs of normal jeans that still fit and I am trying my best to wash them as little as possible. Can't have those babies shrinking. So if you see me wearing the same pants 4 days in a row, just turn a blind eye, ok? 

Until Next Time, 

The Guff