So when a few people recommended some new shopping sites to me, I felt like I had found the holy grail.  In my mind, they’re the ideal combination: baby items at discount prices combined with the thrill of the hunt.  Perfect.

First, there’s Baby Steals.  Every day at 11:00 Eastern (9:00 MST) a new “steal” is posted.  

The item can be anything from baby shoes

to pregnancy kits

to bibs.

Granted I don’t always need the stuff they’re selling (if I had all the money in the world, I may be able to convince myself that I do actually need them) so I try to practice some restraint.  But sometimes, if I’m lucky, there’s an item that’s on my list of things to buy and I can get it for a good deal.  For example, last week they were selling Kelty Baby Carriers for $22.00 which was 62% off the retail price.  Not bad!

A few weeks ago I got a package of the Aden & Anais Swaddling Blankets for more than half off of the retail price which is normally $44.00.  I can’t wait to use them!

Of course the trick with these sites if that you have to act fast if you want to get the deal.  Depending on how many they have in stock, the item may sell out in a manner of minutes or it may take several hours.   Sunday’s steal, the Haba Pacifier and Chain Rattle, sold out in only a few hours.  

If baby items aren’t your thing but you still have children to shop for, you can checkout Babysteals‘ sister site: Kidsteals.

Kidsteals was just launched last last month so it’s still fairly new.  They sell similar items such as shoes and toys and such but all items are for toddlers and older children.  I haven’t found anything on that site yet, but that doesn’t keep me from checking it at 11:00 every day!

And finally, we have Mamabargains.

A similar site to both Babysteals and Kidsteals, MamaBargains is updated several times a day which makes it fun to check regularly.  I’ve ordered a couple of things through them already such as a few of these adorable Anamalz from Austrailia (you have to check out their website – it’s so cool).

At $3.00 each (compared to their regular price of $10.95) it really was a bargain.  I even got something that was on my list – one of the sling baby carriers.  It’s padded for extra comfort and I didn’t have to pay a fortune in case it doesn’t work for me.  They’re made by a company called Slinglings – and I got a great deal at more than half off!

So there you have it – bargain shopping at its finest (and easiest).   And I really am looking for stuff that we’ll need for the baby.  Okay, I may not have needed the Anamalz toys, but we’ll just overlook that one exception.  

Have you ever used one of these sites?  Any sites like this that you check regularly or would recommend?  

If someone had told me years ago that I would have married a man who was a whole generation ahead of me, I would have laughed.  Back then, I tended to gravitate towards the young ‘uns.  Don’t worry, they were legal and most had even finished college, but I didn’t feel old so I certainly wasn’t going to go for someone my age or above.

So when the CPA came along, I was surprised.  First, he doesn’t look his age.  That’s always a bonus in my book.  Second, he doesn’t act “older”.  Well, other than that habit of listening to 70s rock, which I just can’t seem to break him of, but that’s a post for another day.  And third, he gets me like no one else has.  

As we dated, I began to see that there were advantages of being with someone who had experienced the world longer than I had.  First of all, he’s patient beyond belief.  Seriously, I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve dragged him around shopping malls and boutique stores looking for the perfect item, with him  patiently offering his opinion and carrying my bags the whole time.  

Then there’s his communication skills.  I’ve mentioned before his ability to listen to my side and to admit when I have a point, but there’s something to be said for just listening in general.  I used to date guys who had no idea how to really listen or if they did, they didn’t know how to respond.  I love that the CPA and I can sit and talk and listen to each other for hours.  And they’re great conversations too.  He communicates with me on a level that I didn’t know existed.  When there’s a problem, we work it out – we don’t hide in our room until the other one figures out something’s wrong.  We talk about it.  What a novel concept!

Now I know that there are plenty of guys my age and younger who also have these skills and I even dated some of these guys at one time.  My point is that there is something to be said for an “older man,” and this is something that I didn’t realize years ago.  In fact, I think that it’s because he is an older man and his subsequent years of experience that make him the man he is today.  And you know what?  That man is the perfect fit for me.  

Who would have thunk it?

Is there a difference in age between you and your significant other?  How many months/years is it?

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The good news is that I feel like I’ve finally popped.  That’s how I’ve heard it described from others – it’s the time when you finally start looking like you’re pregnant (instead of looking like you’ve just eaten too many cookies.)

Let’s do a recap, shall we?  Here is the baby bump at 15 weeks, 3 days:

And here it is today at 20 weeks.

Is it just me, or is it looking a little droopy?  I have no idea what’s normal so I’m not sure what to compare it to.  I do know that during the ultrasound, they concentrated on the top part of my stomach so I think he must be sitting up pretty high.

The coolest part is that my stomach feels hard now.  I lie in bed at night and rub my tummy and I can tell that a baby’s in there.  No longer does it just feel flabby, but it now feels like I imagined it should.

And I actually had someone come up to me this past week and ask me when I am due.

I think that makes it official.

How far along were you when you “popped”?

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In it, I had used a pregnancy test, one that we had picked up from the drug store, and I had tested positive.  That was it, that was all there was to the dream.  But it was so real that I woke up Monday morning thinking that maybe it could be true and maybe I should test just to be sure.  After a few minutes, however, I convinced myself that there was no way I could be pregnant and I went about my day.

Tuesday morning came and I remembered the dream again.  This time, however, on a whim, I decided that I would try a pregnancy test.  I mean what could it hurt, right?  I had tried so many of them in recent months that I was used to the process, so what was one more?  I did it after the CPA had gone to work because I didn’t want to tell him about the dream and have him think I was being silly.  There was no way we could be pregnant, so it really didn’t even make sense.

I pulled out the test, did my part, and put the stick on the counter.  I even covered it up with a piece of paper because I was determined not to look before the three minutes were up.  Besides, why get my hopes up?  In my mind I just knew that we weren’t pregnant because I had had my period during our trip, even though it was surprisingly short since it only lasted a day.  Not only that, but we had not really “tried” that month as we had finally decided to just let things happen on their own.

With all of this on my mind, I pulled off the piece of paper and threw it in the trash can.  I picked up the stick fully expecting to throw it away next.  That is until I saw this:

Did those two little lines mean what I think they meant?  My mouth hung open and I just stared at the stick in my hand, not believing what I was seeing.  Surely this couldn’t be right, I mean I had had my period only a few days before!  And we weren’t even trying this month, how could this be?

Thinking that surely it was a fluke, I pulled out another test.

Hmm… two tests showing positive?  Maybe there was something to this then.  Or maybe it was just a bad batch?  So I pulled out my last test.  This was the mother of all testing sticks, the expensive one that I had been holding on to for just such an occasion.  The one that would leave no question as to whether I was actually pregnant.

Well, it was kind-of hard to argue with the little “yes” clearly showing in the window.

A few days later at my annual physical, my doctor did a blood test and confirmed that yes, we are pregnant!

That was over seven weeks ago which means that as of today, I am officially entering my second trimester.  The last couple of months have been full of lots of changes (mostly to my waistline) and lots and lots of morning sickness (midday & evening too).

But it will all be worth it.  We are so happy and we are excited beyond belief because we finally have a little one on the way!

A couple of days later, I was offered the job.  After I had been working for the firm a while, I had an interesting conversation with my boss.  He said how impressed they had been that I had mailed in a hand-written note after my interviews and that I was the only one to have done that.  He also said that it set me apart from the other candidates who had interviewed for the job.

I tell this story not to brag about my note-writing skills, but to stress how important a simple hand-written note can be.  And from the conversation I had with my boss, I wonder just how common note-writing is these days.  Do people still do it on a regular basis?  Or has email taken over instead?

Maybe it is partly the Southern way I was raised, but having received many hand-written notes myself, I know how special they can be.  There’s nothing quite like opening the mail and finding a little note from a friend after they’ve received a gift or after they’ve come over for dinner or even a note just to say hello.  It’s definitely not something that is necessary, but it’s such a nice touch.  It shows that they took the time and made the effort, which is really what it’s all about.

Having said all this, I’ll be the first to admit that I need to be better at sending out my own notes.  I always mean to write a thank you card or a “get-well-soon” note right away, but sometimes a week slips by before I can get it done.  Even as I write this post, I remember a note that I meant to send out a while ago after attending a get-together at a friend’s house.  But I will say this: I am trying because I believe strongly in hand-written notes and in the sentiment behind them.  And I hope that they don’t become a thing of the past because that would really be a shame.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some notes to write…

What do you think of the practice of sending hand-written notes?  Is it obsolete because of email and other modern means of communciation?  Do you do it?  Do you receive them from others?

A special treat on this Monday morning, a guest post from my dear sister, otherwise known as the Wife of Odie. Enjoy!

There I am, catching some much needed sleep. It’s tough being a five-year-old and you have to catch any sleep you can get. Especially when you’re the youngest child. All that adoration really wears you out.

I’m sure I was dreaming about the piggy bank I hoped I’d get for Christmas when my sleep was shattered with yelling. Yelling and dreams of pink piggy banks do not mix well.

“For the love Tracy, get out of this bed!”

Push. Push. Jab. Jab. Roll and thud. Dreams are over and I’m on the floor.

I know what you’re thinking. Well, not quite, I’m not exactly psychic, but run with me on this. You’re now thinking “this girl had a rough childhood. She couldn’t even sleep in her own bed. It’s amazing she turned so normally.”

It’s a miracle, I know.

Ok, wait a second.

I did mention that this wasn’t my own bed right?

And that I did this EVERY night?

And it must have been REALLY annoying?

The routine went something like this. Mom puts me to bed in my favorite jammies. I’m fairly certain they matched my yo-yo-a-saurus shirt I had. I wake up around scared:30 and look for solace. Solace manifests itself when I find myself crawling next door into my sister’s bed.

On a good night she let me stay.

On a bad night, well, see above.

If my memory serves me right, which is does 82% of the time; Tab let me stay in her bed FAR more than she kicked me out. And let’s be honest, I’m being dramatic here. It’s just what I was told to do in creative writing. Her yelling was more like a whimper, and I’m pretty sure she never actually kicked me out of bed.

But that’s because that’s my sister. And she’s super loving and super giving. (If you’re not used to using super before adjectives, try it out sometime. Then move to Utah. You’d probably fit in pretty well.)

My sister set the standard early on that as her only sister I was to be treated well. As in I’ll-let-you-crawl-into-my-own-bed-when-you’re-scared well. Her clothes were fair game for dress-up, much adoration was given and lots of hair was combed. But it all ended too soon when my sister moved out and gasp, became a bona fide adult.

Those 12 years between us slowed us down a bit. But one day I too became an adult and ventured out on my own. Never one to be far from my sister, I relocated to Utah to be in the same state as her.

And naturally the cycle repeated itself.

I’d come over for sleepovers when scared, lonely or needing a break from Provo. The room next door had turned into her home on Harvard Avenue in Salt Lake. Just as full of solace for me as her bedroom had been years before. Oh, how I loved sleeping over at her house! I longed for the time when I would one day have my own place all by myself like her.

But that never happened. We both continued to grow up and both moved to D.C. where I had roommate after roommate until I found a roommate of the forever kind. Those are the best kind.

Now life’s changed a bit. Sleepovers have been replaced with Sunday dinners with our husbands. Dress-up has been replaced with jewelry borrowing and style advice giving. Instead of talking about dates and school, now we talk about future babies and our jobs. Times have certainly changed. But the one thing that hasn’t is this: my sister will also be a source of solace for me.

And that my friends, is priceless.

And then it happened.  The last speaker got up to give her talk.  She was poised, elegant and beautiful and I found myself captivated by her every word.  She introduced herself and her family and I saw that she was witty and charming, telling jokes in the just the right places that drew laughs from the appreciative audience.  Then she moved on to the heart of her topic.  She spoke about how to live a charitable life and she suggested ways that we can be kind to others.  I saw that she smiled as she spoke; there wasn’t a trace of nervousness or discomfort anywhere.  She barely glanced at her notes and she maintained eye contact with the congregation.

I was completely mesmerized.  

I realized then that my little sister had grown up.  She’s always been mature beyond her years and has had a natural confidence and grace that instantly puts people at ease.  I’ve always known this.  But suddenly, I realized that she wasn’t a little girl any more.  Yes, there’s a part of me that knows this already.  I mean I was at her wedding and I saw her say her “I do’s.”  So there’s a part of me that understands that she’s no longer the little kid that snuck into my bed at night because she didn’t want to sleep alone.  

But suddenly I saw her how others must see her – as a self-assured, mature, confident woman.  And while I’ve always been proud of her and recognized her accomplishments, it truly was an eye-opening experience.  Gone is the little girl I once knew, and in her place is a beautiful woman whom I look up to.  

And you know what else I realized?  No matter how much she has grown up, she will always be my little sister who forever has a special place in my heart.  And nothing could make me happier.

Yep, that was my weekend.  I literally just shut down and didn’t leave the house.  Between getting my braces put on earlier this week and then being sick the remainder of the week, I just couldn’t do it.  I couldn’t put on a brave face and act like everything was okay when I could barely function.

So instead, I spent the last two days sipping Ginger Ale, eating hot soup and massaging my sore gums.  And sleeping, lots and lots of sleeping.   And you know what?  I’m slowly starting to return to the land of the living.

I’m not quite there yet though.  In fact, I’m debating whether to go into the office today or not.  But at least I’m considering it, which is more than I did yesterday.  

Who knows, today I may even make it out of my pajamas!

But how many times have we said things that sound innocent enough but that may be causing long term harm to our children’s psyche?  Things such as, “these jeans make me look fat” or “I can’t have any dessert tonight because I’m gaining weight.”  We say things like this because we’re human and because we, like most women, have insecurities.  We are trying to protect our children from growing up with those same insecurities and we want them to go through life without weight insecurities or other issues.

The problem is, comments like these may be causing more harm than good.  In a recent Washington Post article titled, Watch What You Eat, Yes.  But Also Watch What You Say and Do Around Your Daughter, author Dara Chadwick was quoted as saying, “even as we must watch what we say to our daughters about their bodies, we should be mindful of the signals we send them about our regard for our own.”  The article goes on to talk about how our children pick up on the things that we say (or do) and use them to define how they feel about themselves.

So how what do we say to make sure that this doesn’t happen?  The article gives the following suggestions:

• When talking about yourself, don’t mention your weight.  Focus on positive things instead such as your hair or eyes, something that you like.
• Don’t constantly check yourself out in the mirror when you’re out and about.
• When trying on clothes, say things like “The cut of these pants isn’t right for me” instead of saying something derogatory about your body.
• Indulge in a treat when your family goes out for dessert to show that it’s okay, and that you can have a healthy relationship with food.
• Accept compliments when they are given, do not discount them.
• Talk to your children

While it’s not an inclusive list, it is definitely a good place to start.  Because using derogatory comments, whether intentional or not, can have a negative effect not only on ourselves but also on our impressionable children.

So here’s hoping that we can change not only the way we think about ourselves, but also the things that we say.  That way, when we teach our children to follow what we say and what do, we can mean it.

I know it well and I should, since I’ve been doing it most of my life.  There are variations of course.  Sometimes I go for months without succumbing to the inner voice, the voice that tells me I have to eat that piece of cake at all costs.  And other times I eat until I’m past the point of being full and even then I can’t stop.  It’s like I have to fill my stomach until it physically won’t hold any more.

I always thought it was a matter of weakness or poor self control.  Which is confusing because there are some things that I have complete control over.  I gave up chocolate seven years ago.  Cold turkey, I just walked away. And how I loved chocolate!  That was the problem, I loved it too much, so I couldn’t allow myself even a single piece and I haven’t had it since.  I gave up sodas.  Let me tell you what a sacrifice that was, the crisp, biting feeling of the carbonation sliding down your throat.  The rush of caffeine as it hits your stomach.  mmm…..

Oh, where was I?

Ah yes, emotional eating.  See, I finally realized that it’s not a matter of self-control or willpower.  I made this realization after I started emotionally eating again a few months ago.  Nothing terribly awful, I’m still fairly strict with my food.  But after gaining a few pounds I realized that I have a problem and before I get too far gone, I decided to get help.

That’s when I met Ginger and Vivianne* who specialize in emotional eating and compulsive eating disorders. Disorder is such a scary word isn’t it?  I think that’s what’s kept me from looking for help for so long.  I mean everyone knows about bulemia and anorexia and they’re easily classified, but compulsive eating?  Surely that’s just some made up name to make us feel better.

But the more I learn about it, the more I realize that it defines my problem right down to the last mood swing. Here’s the official definition (according to Brown University) “Compulsive overeating is characterized by uncontrollable eating followed by feelings of guilt and shame.”  Here are some of the warning signs:

• bingeing, or eating uncontrollably
• purging by strict dieting, fasting, vigorous exercise, vomiting or abusing
• using laxatives or diuretics in an attempt to lose weight
• using the bathroom frequently after meals
• preoccupation with body weight
• depression or mood swings
• irregular periods

Hmmm…  I think I can say yes to most of those at some time or other in my life.  Couple that with emotional eating which is defined as “eating in response to boredom, stress, fatigue, tension, depression, anger, anxiety or loneliness as a way to “fill the void,”  (Medicine.net) and you see what I’ve been dealing with.

But for the first time in my entire adult life, actually since childhood, I feel some hope.  And not just the hope that comes from reading a well-written self-help diet book, although some of those are good too.  I’m talking about the kind of help that really gets beneath all of the hows and discovers the whys.  For the first time in my life I am evaluating the question:  why do I do this?

Hopefully I’ll soon know the answer.