It's not you (blog)...

...It's me.

For four years, Will and I have loved having a place to share what triumphs, struggles, and hilarities life has thrown our way, but our new normal (with sweet baby Hudson) leaves little time for book reports on life. I'd love to post more. I'd love to say I'll try, but the truth is, it's time to say goodbye to our little blog. Time to close this book and add it to the shelf.

In time, we'd love to start another blog-- this time with a focus. And we might just do that soon. (Very soon even!) But this one will remain frozen in time; a brief moment captured- with only the three of us (Will, Grace and I) in the masthead. So long dear readers, whoever you are (dad).

Onto new adventures as a family of four.

Thanks for coming along with us.

This is not a sprint, folks...it's a Marathon

Here we go folks... rounding the corner into what will be the completion of my 30th week among the card carrying members of the preggo tribe. This leaves only single-digit weeks remaining, which somehow feels like our little guy may as well be wiggling his way to the exit any minute now.

As Will and I sat at a little candle-lit counter in Napolese last night, gabbing over the most delicious pizza in SoBro, we marveled at how fast this has all gone. Was it really March when we found out that we'd be parents? I remember driving Grace down to Bloomington the morning after I cleared CVS out of pregnancy tests (while Will was in Miami)(hey, I couldn't wait) to soak up the first few days of spring. I was still snuggled in a fleece. Now, as we round the bend into Autumn, I'm reminded how quickly time really does pass us by. In fact, I dug the same fleece out of the closet this morning for the first chilly walk of the season before realizing it didn't even begin to close around my bulging belly.

And even though I know I have at least 9 more weeks ahead of me, I can't help but remember the feeling I had running the end of the Chicago Marathon in '01. I had breezed through the first 18 miles, strode into Chinatown past my cheering section with pep in my step, and even strode into the 23rd mile feeling strong. Then, there were the last 3.2. 30 measly minuets of running after 3.7 hours, and each minute felt like a mile. Each step, up hill, alone, under the McCormick's Place tunnel, and into the sun pressed against every fiber in my being. The finish felt so close (and it was), but I knew how much harder I'd need to work just to make it that short distance. With the iconic Marathon approaching next Sunday (no, I will not be lining my big pregnant butt up at that starting line), it seems only fitting that I am entering the toughest, "shortest," but most trying part of this journey. More now than ever before, I'm so grateful to have an amazing cheering section on my course, and so happy to be feeling strong.

In other news, the nursery is nearly complete (pics soon), and we are excitedly working through details that will lead us up to and through "the most wonderful time of the year." We are soaking up any bits of quiet time, tackling all of our work trips, and burning the midnight oil to veil ourselves in the happy illusion that we might be PREPARED for him to enter our world. Which is funny b/c we have no idea what we're doing. :)

Thanks for joining us on this exciting ride.

Hipstamatic

Will spent last week in sunny Orlando attending and running the Phi Psi Grand Arch Council, while G and I hung out near home-- left to our own devices for fighting off the raging heat. After the busy work week came to an end, we spent two long luxurious days sharing popsicles, shopping for baby goodies, napping, cleaning out closets and drawers, taking just-before-dark walks and cooking.

And come Sunday night, not a single item was left unchecked on my to-do list, which may have never ever happened before. (I typically start my Mondays digging through the dryer and wondering how I got mayonnaise in my hair post-shower).

With my new super-fun hipstamatic photo app, I snapped all sorts of goodies. Among them, my sweet fuzzy Grace, pie filling post hand-pitting cherries for an hour, a growing belly shot, and then (after Will arrived back home to enjoy a much deserved week of sleeping in), he and G snoozing as I bounced off to work green with envy.

Another busy week awaits before heading off to Watervale for some much needed R&R, Michigan cherries, cool mornings and swings with books on the Watervale Inn porch. I am refining my reading stack today, which is much more exciting than the prospect of wearing my newly acquired maternity swim gear. :)

Mr. Sandman, bring me a (what was I looking for agin?)

2:00am and I have paced every non-squeaky floorboard of our 80-yr-old house, fighting the urge to somehow quietly repaint the basement walls, wash my car and start emptying all the drawers in the baby's dresser while Will sleeps. If it's your body that starts really changing at 16 weeks, 20 weeks must be all about the mind.

Because I think I might be insane.

I drove ALL the way to Anthropolgie today to return an adorable hair clip that made me look like a resident of Whoville, only to arrive and realize I had left it on the dining room table (naturally). I thought it was Sunday until 10am (it's not), and I arrived home after a lovely dinner with friends tonight feeling, well, "unsettled." Why, you ask? I HAVE NO IDEA. But the feeling is so nagging, in fact, that I'm awake. Wide awake. And irrationally angry at Will for sleeping while I'm awake... at 2:00 (I typically lose most major motor skills and the ability to speak past 9:15pm. Ask anybody).

*Sigh*

When Will and I started dating, at the tender age of 17, I remember loving that he always smelled like fabric softener and soap, and thinking that he had the softest, warmest hands I'd ever held. Sometime in the first year of our relationship, I remember thinking that I wanted those hands to hold my babies someday. In fact, I told my friend, Catherine... who may have dumped ice on me. (Did I mention I was 17?)

It was a just a crazy thought then, but I think my head might actually spin around and explode when that small vision becomes a giant reality this December. Could all this craziness be attributed to my mind's conscious or unconscious way of sorting out the events of our lives and the astounding ways they are coming full circle? Could my "insanity" just be a heightened state of realization? Is it too late to eat a wedge of cheese and mull this over? *spend 8 minutes debating cheese*

*head to fridge. forget about blog.*

*remember blog*

*try to remember where I put MacBook*

*found MacBook*

See what I mean? :) Sweet dreams, friends. May tomorrow bring a clear(er) head.

Oh, Baby, that's ugly.

In keeping with my recent theme of highlighting beloved design spaces, I thought I’d take a second to talk about the serious lack of style in baby nurseries.

Why baby nurseries, you ask? Well, because Will and I are proud to say that we are preparing for the arrival of our first little one- a boy. Boy oh boy. :)

At 19 weeks (and 2 days)(but who’s counting?), we are in full planning mode. I have been so excited to design a new room, that I never anticipated baby bedding, gliders, mobiles, and rugs would all be so….YUCK!

I want to design a room that I could easily move into if I were very short and 8 er so pounds. The bedding should match the tone of bedding I’d buy for myself-- today. I want this little guy to wake up and feel inspired by the light and the beauty that surrounds him. Although since I'm fairly certain he'd be content in a manger, I at least need to feel inspired during my late night feedings. Isn't the nursery just as much for the baby as it is for the mom and dad? ;) If I am handed one more patchwork brown bear quilt, I am going to kick the Babies R Us lady squarely in the kneecaps.

So I’m on the hunt. The hunt for great modern bedding, deliciously designed accessories, and sweet, soft organics that don’t make me want to throw things. We’ve landed on several items (all adult BTW) for the renovation that include rich golds, dark navy blues, bright whites, and clean lines. I found amazing bedding (for, ahem, $400) at laylagrace, but also a cute and way less expensive alternative (dwell studio for target) that may work just as well for something that will ultimately be thoroughly pooped and vomited on. I would like to think that $400 baby bedding has some sort of self cleaning function... like good ovens do.

On second thought, a couple bags of critter cage wood chips might be just as effective (and cuter). Hear that Babies R Us? These are the cries of a desperate woman.

Here are a couple elements we've settled on thus far. Have ideas? Send em my way!

Work it, love it

After graduating from Indiana (ahem... 7 er so years ago), I realized how much I had taken the deep beauty of Her campus for granted. Wandering through flowering arboretums and into gorgeously sculpted architecture each spring was added nourishment to each of our blossoming minds.

Such a sad surprise to arrive at your first little job and see short grey carpet-covered walls, a grey desk, a brown cabinet and overhead florescents (shudder). How could this help anyone excel? I feel depressed just imagining it! Sure, I'd tote in a couple green plants, a rug, and my own lamp in hopes of making it my own, but the cube farms and sealed 37th floor windows always seemed more like sterile cells than places where new ideas were born.

I have been fortunate, though, since entering the ad industry, to work with folks that appreciate great design and beautiful open workspaces. Any why shouldn't they? We do spend the majority of our lives under these roofs. Still, I sometimes dream of working from home, and creating a space that's all mine-- where all of my books can live together in harmony- like all books should. Plus, I hear Golden Retrievers are the perfect accessory to any room.

Daily inspiration- the workspace:

Green Peace

What makes me warm, tingly and giddy with delight? Great design. Beautiful living spaces, intense green spaces and mossy gardens that last for days. With spring on the loom, my gorgeous daffodils and hyacinths are holding their beautiful bold heads up in spite of the morning frost, and what a treat. I love them more each year, I think.

Since green is my very favorite color, inspiration like this makes me want to paint all the walls, all the doors and breathe deeply....

(shown: Chloe Sevigny home, Miles Redd home (House Beautiful), Steven Gambrel house in Long Island, Leger Wanaselja Architecture, Pascal/Richie house (Dwell))