I have a confession. It may seem hypocritical based on the large majority of the post topics on this blog and is obviously a sweeping generalization, but sometimes I get bored of the “mommy-sphere.” (While I’m being truthful, I’m also not such a fan of the word “mommy.”) I love it when I get useful advice from fellow moms or when we can have a genuine heartfelt conversation that non-moms may not be able understand . . . but sometimes…
A post like the one below isn’t so much for me to brag about my amazing sewing skills (which are highly overestimated by the way) as it is to brag about the fact that I, Audrey Merket, actually wore something cute and unstained on the same day that I went to the effort to do my hair. When we were briefly living in DC we attended church there. My ears perked up one Sunday when one of the women told…
I hate how gripping dreams can be emotionally, no matter how illogical the plot. Last night I dreamed that I was running from the law. I happened upon a large mansion where I hid for awhile and pretended to be a part of the staff for a large wedding that was taking place there. I made some friends while “laying low” and they helped me come up with the perfect escape plan that would make it so the authorities would…
There’s something about becoming a mother (and to a degree a father) that changes your perception about socially acceptable topics of conversation. Subjects that were once faux pas suddenly become fair game during a casual afternoon lunch with people you’ve barely met. For the mother, this shift is nearly imperceptible and it’s hard to remember that there ever was a time when you would have died before you discussed anyone’s bowel movements. (Does it make it better or worse that…
Exactly a year ago I posted this. Man that seems like a lifetime ago. As I look at the picture of me with my burgeoning belly, I wish I could tell myself: You are so close to being done, really. Don’t worry so much about how huge you are. You. Are. Pregnant. You will be skinny again, but not immediately – and that is okay. Do you hear me? It’s okay. And after he comes, take it easy for goodness…
Even though Cooper isn’t crawling yet (Don’t worry, I’m learning to count my blessings on this one), we definitely have a curious little monkey on our hands. Here’s a little peak. The other day I was reading a blog post where the writer was talking about how growing up she fully trusted her mother and truly thought she knew everything. Then she said, “Sometimes I think, wait, I can’t be a mom, I’m just a random person, I don’t know…
Growing up, my siblings and I were always finding ways to be embarrassed of our parents. Some of our reasons might have been valid, but most of them were pretty ridiculous. During their middle school years my brothers were particularly funny. They were at the age when coat wearing was the ultimate sign of wimpiness, no matter how low the temperature dipped. Despite my mom’s valiant efforts, my brothers were often dropped off at school in t-shirts in the dead…
Yesterday, I wore ironed pants. True, I did not put them on until 4:30pm and the only people that saw them were the milk man and a few other adult leaders at a youth church activity. So what if I only wore them for 3 hours before I was summoned home to feed a starving boy, who wouldn’t take a bottle from his poor dad and spit up on said pants minutes after I so kindly fed him. The fact…
We generally keep this blog light and about fairly non-important things since a) I’m not always good at being serious and b) I’m attempting to be witty, but I’ve had something on my mind for awhile. I wasn’t one of those girls that wanted to get married and be a mom since the age of five. I wanted to be someone important. An astronaut, the first female president, a lawyer. I figured motherhood was for those that didn’t have real…
Pregnancy isn’t divided into nice even trimesters. Supposedly the whole thing lasts 40 weeks with the 1st and 3rd trimesters taking up 13 weeks each and the 2nd trimester taking up 14 weeks. I don’t know if they make the 2nd trimester longer because it’s rumored to be more “enjoyable,” but it kind of bothers me. If you divide the trimesters evenly each one lasts 13.33333 weeks and I hit that mark sometime yesterday. Really it’s all guess-work anyway (see…