tunic - c/o Madeleine Maternity
maternity denim - Target
wedges - c/o Rackroom Shoes
shades - ASOS
top - Old Navy
Sandals - Amazon
31 weeks of bumpage but I feel oddly reminiscent of my formerly full-term self. Weird.
I totally thought I could get away with wearing this tunic as a dress because suddenly I've turned into one of those stereotypical pregnant women that skips the glisten stage of overheated and goes straight for the drenched in perspiration and looking around wondering why no one else is looking like they might pass out. Funny how that happens just as winter cackles her goodbyes. Anyway, I came to my senses and didn't wear a glorified shirt as a dress after ALL. De nada.
I don't want to admit how many hour(S) I've spent trying to figure out bleeping Snapchat but ... my mind just does not compute. I'll be the 90-year-old waxing nostalgic about Instagram while my great grands zip around in their cars that triple as phones and drones.
I know you love it. I know she loves it. I know everyone loves it but I can't stand Uptown Funk. I'd rather listen to overgrown nails on a noisy chalkboard but you know who really loves it and knows all the words and sings it all the time? Julia and Sebastian. It's a nightmare. Except I'm awake.
Julia has been talking and talking about amulets lately and I assumed it was a made up word (likely - her new name for the baby is, "Zosa" rhymes with Rosa, I think) but then I Googled and nope - it's a thing. I blame the wilds of Kids' Netflix.
99.9% of my photos look something like this ...
... because Simon likes to insert loads of commentary about the absurdity of blog photos and not posed poses and he's right. So right. But it doesn't stop me, now does it? Maybe next time he'll catch me mid-snort and laughy tear wipe away.
In less than four weeks we will (probably, hopefully) be officially homeless while Simon finishes his last 4 week rotation before we move. We are only in a semi-frenzied state looking for a temporary solution that won't cost us quadruple a mortgage payment and won't force all 6.8 of us to share a bed up until the baby comes and then all 7 of us to keep on sharing. Maybe it's time to walk the blog name walk and go forth an inaugural and genuine camping excursion. Snort. Or maybe we'll just co-sleep with all of our kittens. Saints have suffered. I'll keep you posted. I never don't.
And that's all she wrote.
I hope you have an above average afternoon.