yesterday i kept H home from preschool because she was sick the majority of the weekend and her nose has remained a faucet. but we got dressed, she picked out some shoes although we were going nowhere, and asked me to put her hair up on top like mommys. we cooped up in her room and read books, did puzzles, and played store (where she used her typewriter as a register and demanded i pay her for things). every so often she would say “mommy, take a picture of me doing this” which is completely out of the norm for her. i brought up snacks and we played the morning away. sorry for the photo overload, but she was just too much.

sweater and striped tank underneath: h&m //jeggings and flats: target

SF welcomed me with gorgeous 65 degree sunshine, delicious food and a king size bed that was so comfortable i felt mocked when my alarm went off at 4:30 am on the only morning i was lucky enough to wake up in it’s gloriousness. it also welcomed me with an early monthly gift (most likely from the self produced stress – srsly i had no idea it was even on it’s way) which produced a really fun TP stuff-and-waddle to the corner 711 at 5 in the morning. nothing like a little pre-dawn humiliation to bring your ass back down to earth, no?

sorry male people?

i also got to meet my friend Meg for the first time, after knowing each other for 4 years. we had wine (hi, duh) and ate the most glorious brussel sprout dish ever to grace my mouthparts. i still can’t stop thinking about them. i know, get a life right?

once i was home, there were massive amounts of cuddles. interspersed in those moments of cuddles were moments of a tiny terrorist trying to plot my death. three is an….interesting age. it’s fun, yet, um, challenging. it’s…ok it’s like repeatedly punching yourself in the face and then jamming said face into a vat of nutella. is what it’s like. super painful and then really sweet. over and over.

but then she drew Goofy (seriously do you see that? i can’t even draw Goofy that well). so i mean.

also, beer.

let’s look at a few things i loved on the internet this week:

e tells tales asked her readers to anonymously comment their honest goals for the new year. 420+ comments later. refreshing honesty from lots of people. pretty kick ace.

this skirt Ellen made for Tessa is sew cute (omg see what i did there just then)! i wish i knew how to sew/had a sewing machine.

a valentine exchange – how fun! probably a lot more fun than in 5th grade when i wrote “i hate you” to the other Amanda in my class on her valentine and got in big trouble. i’m guessing.

the pugly pixel always has AMAZING tutorials and goodies for bloggers and this is one i can’t wait to sit down and try.

i met these two lovely ladies in SF also. you should check them out if you never have.

and one of the better videos i’ve seen in the whole Sh*t Blank People Say meme. funny.

happy weekend! see you sunday morning for le SOS.

last week, i had a life changing experience.

like, the heavens (or whatever) opened up, michael c. hall looked down upon me and smiled. johnny depp did a roundhouse kick while kittens licked a tattoo of a narwhal onto me as an IV drip of the most perfect americano poured into my veins.

i had my first bra fitting.

you guys. LIFE CHANGING.

those of you who have had one, or multiple even, like normal people who don’t put off things like i do, probably just threw your hands up and yelled “I KNOW RIGHT!”. those of you who are in my boat and have never had one probably just covered your boobs at the thought of having someone fit you for a bra.

i’m here to suggest demand each and every one of you run, don’t walk, your ladies into a bra fitting RIGHT MEOW.

i was one of those lucky/unlucky ones who got boobs at the age of like 9 and got to figure out how i felt about that at the same time everyone else got to figure out how they felt about that. it was terrible, awkward, and i have never had a very good relationship with my boobs because of it. i resent them for lots of reasons – they made guys oogle me, take me less seriously, and most recently, they didn’t help me feed my baby when i needed them to. they aren’t my favorite, is what i’m saying.

so i guess instead of trying to make them the best they could be, i punished them by completely ignoring what would help them kick ace. LIKE A PROPER FITTING BRA. so i bought cheap bras at target in whatever size i assumed i was.

i’ve been wearing a 38 C or D for as long as i can remember. where did i get this number? one can only guess.

so last week, i was getting my stuff packed for a very important trip where i’d be on camera a lot. i told Scot there was no way i could go do such a thing with my ladies being all sad and…well, really effing sad. so i went to nordstrom for my first ever bra fitting. at 30 years old. that is approximately 21 years of boob-life without so much as someone measuring me or telling me my cup size.

so you can imagine my surprise/horror/omgwtf-ness as my boob handler matter-of-factly told me i was a 32DDD.

::crickets::

and you can imagine her surprise/HORROR/OMGWTF-ness as i informed her that i have been wearing OH MY GOD NOT THAT SIZE for my whole life. i wasn’t sure if she was going to hit me or pass out. i can only imagine what it’s like for a boob handler to hear how terribly boobs have been mistreated and neglected. it probably hurts their heart something fierce. suddenly in my head, my boobs in a bra too large and ill fitting sadly moped across a screen while sara mcLachlan sang in the background. i had the ASPCA commercial of breast situations happening.

she couldn’t get me the right size fast enough. within minutes my sisters were holstered into the most amazing, well fitting, glorious boob holster i had ever worn. it had memory foam cups you guys. and when i heard the size of my boobs, i was terrified i’d look like some sort of adult film star with the right size bra, but NO, they looked perky and not too big at all and that is when i saw ryan gosling. and he was all “hey girl. your boobies look hot today”.

since i doubt it’s appropriate to mouth kiss a boob handler, i thanked her profusely for changing my life and promised i’d come back to her for more bras in the near future (because let’s face it, i now own ONE bra that actually fits). when i put my old bra back on to go pay and leave, i think i heard my boobs say the f word. it wasn’t until then when i realized how dire my situation had been.

i will be mortally offended if those of you who have never had a bra fitting do not heed my advice to buck up and go get one. ESPECIALLY those of you with larger sisters. your life will be altered forever. your clothes will fit differently, your boobs will look amazing and you will all around be more comfortable. please do it. for the boobies.

tips before you go: shave your armpits and pick the sales person that looks the most friendly. they don’t see everything but you are in a bra-only situation. if you’re a mom, this probably won’t even bother you as everyone and their brothers have probably seen your nipples at some point, amirite? this is actually MILD compared to pushing a crotch monkey out of your nether regions.

be prepared to be at least a little bit shocked at your actual size. i mean, i was wearing a bra SIX INCHES too big for me around the chest. and 3-4 cups sizes TOO SMALL. no wonder my boobs were BFF’s with my belly button. GET THESE TATA’S SOME SUPPORT FOR CRYING IN THE RIVER. i learned that your shoulder straps should never be at the tightest, and same with your clasps in the back. that means the whole party is too big. there is also a correct way to get into a bra that involves a little shimmy at the end so they get into place. i went to nordstrom and had a wonderful experience, but i know a lot of places do bra fittings.

ok, i’m done. i think. hope you could read the post ok over the SINGING OF MY BOOBS. they have never been so happy.

now go back and re-read taking a drink every time you see the word boob. cheers!

happy new year! i hope you all had fun and stayed safe last night. we rang in the new year at home, with the H monster and my mom, and it was perfect. my mom brought over a prime rib (! my favorite) and i made baked fan potatoes (slice the potato almost all the way though along the length of it so it fans out, drizzle with butter, salt and pepper and bake for an hour at 350. thanks betty crocker!) and roasted asparagus. bloody marys were involved, as was Wii resort – which is super fun. a bit before midnight we turned on the tv, poured champagne ( a tiny cup of bubbly gingerale for the nugget to cheers with) and finished the year by calling Callin’ Oates and jamming out in the living room to Rich Girl.

(if you do one thing in 2012, make it calling Callin’ Oates. 719.266.2837 – “your emergency hall & oates hotline”. thank you to the numerous readers who sent me this. nothing much makes me happier than being known as the hall & oates girl).

we couldn’t’ believe H stayed up until midnight, then she blew our mind by making it to 1am. we danced, wore party hats and had a great time. i do love me a good NYE fancied up outing, but this was just perfect. this morning, Harper is forcing us to wear the hats while we drink coffee and watch football (can i get a WHAT WHAT for the regular season being over today? glorious) and keeps demanding we party.

i’m so excited for 2012. i woke up feeling the newness and although it’s really just another day, i hold hope that it’s the start to an amazing year for our family. i wish all of you nothing but the besty best BEST in 2012 and if i haven’t said it enough – thank you for being here. this blog means a lot to me (2011 really drove that home for me) and it means even more that there are awesome people out there (like you!) that choose to read it.

now let’s dance.

happy first SOS of the year!

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