If Loving Fall Makes Me Basic, Then I Guess That's What I Am

I look forward to fall every year. If I could, I would wear leggings and sweaters everyday. I really love boots (even though very rarely do they fit my legs correctly). I covet scarves and thick knitted socks and cable knit sweaters. I run a stupidly popular Fall-themed tumblr blog. I anxiously wait for Pumpkin Spice Latte season at Starbucks (but not because I love Pumpkin Spice Lattes). I just really love Fall and I always have. 

Loving fall seems to have become a bit of a "thing" recently. Perhaps it's the spread and scope of the internet, or the fact that we are all vaguely competing with each other via social media over who has the most covetable life, but it just seems that people say "I'm SO excited for Fall" way more than they used to. There are whole groups of "Fall people" who I never would have labeled as fall people previously. Having known them since high school or college, I would have thought they purely lovers to the spring or summer, sun worshippers who function best in teeny-tiny shorts and tank tops. 

My love of fall stems from two things: my utter contempt for the summer and my birthday. My birthday is October 20, so I'm firmly "team fall" when it comes to the best time of year for birthdays. And I've always hated summer. Recently, I finally decided that the reason I always hated summer was because summer time was a stretch of three months of loneliness for me as a kid. Going to private school in a different town from where I lived meant I couldn't really just pop over to my friends for a visit. This might mean that in a summer, I might see my friends once, if at all, in that long stretch of three months--which meant I started every single school year feeling like the new kid. Being lonely during the summer was part of who I was, just another part of my personality. Summer's sucked, but fall meant friendships again. 

Get Off My Internets famously has a forum where bloggers are called out for who mentions fall earliest. I actually think this is hilarious because some people start prepping for fall in, like, July. As much as I'd like to be one of those people, I just physically can't and the idea of publicly discussing my desire for fall seems to edge on the side of "too much." 

Loving fall has become one of the checkboxes of being basic. Do you love leggings, Uggs/boots, and Starbucks? Well then, you might just be basic. 

This puts fall lovers who are perhaps not basic at heart in a strange position: how can you celebrate the start of September (the meteorological start of fall) without being annoyingly basic? 

The fact is, in the age of the internet, you can't. If you love fall, there is always going to be a summer lover glaring at you as you unpack Halloween decorations on September 1st, 12:01am, and pull your sweaters out of storage. There is always going to be one person who wonders why you can't just appreciate the season that's happening. There's always going to be one Debbie Downer, or one person who hates autumn, or one person who just doesn't like seeing other people excited. It doesn't make them bad. Just like loving fall, and wearing boot socks in 90-degree September weather, doesn't make you crazy. 

There is also one important thing to remember: it's ok to like things, even if they're kind of lame. I fully admit my love for fall, for salted caramel mochas from Starbucks (yes, I know they are about 85% syrup; yes, I know they contain about a day's worth of calories; no, I do not care, they taste amazing), for off-brand Uggs, for boot socks and leggings and sweaters. I rush into fall because it's my favorite season and if that makes me basic, then I guess I'm pretty basic... but at least I'm having fun, right? 

Am I Crazy to Attempt NaNoWriMo with a Newborn Baby?

A few weeks ago, I decided to take on a small research project. By that I mean, I decided to Google something. This is actually something I do several times a day. Usually, I search for something that, without context, seems bizarre, such as “28 weeks baby kicks seem fainter?” And then, of course, I read one link, begin to panic, and retreat into the cocoon of my bed until Forrest, undoubtedly, begins to assault my insides as retribution for worrying about him. 

However, this Google search was different. I searched, in this exact wording, “NaNoWriMo with newborn baby.” 

If I expected to get an in-depth blog post about taking on NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, a project that I’ve taken on every November for 5 years), I was mistaken. Three pages of results gave articles about “nurturing your newborn, baby novel” and lots of stuff that anthropomorphized novels into newborn babies. Basically, weird stuff and nothing related to actually trying to write a novel, in a month, about 1-2 weeks after giving birth. 

I was disappointed, so I gave up, got in bed, and took a nap. AKA the usual. 

I decided not to think about NaNoWriMo for a while. After all, November is a long ways away! Seriously, a long time! I laughed to myself as I thought about it. November is, basically, like 6 months away. Lightyears. It is lightyears away at this point. 

Then, I realized, with a shocking revelation, that my due date is in 12 weeks. Less than 12 weeks now. 11 weeks. 11 weeks. I remember being 11 weeks pregnant. How did I get to 28, 29 weeks?? How did this happen?? 

So, I hit Google again. This time, I thought of ways I could augment my search to cut out the weird, treat-your-writing-like-a-baby articles. (This, to be honest, is a pet peeve of mine. A novel is not a baby; it is a lump of words that you put on the page. It’s not living and breathing. If it’s driving you nuts, you need to take a few deep breaths and chill. Also, the use of “baby” alongside “novel” without actually talking about a baby makes it hard for people who are carrying around babies inside of them to find actual information for their actual situations.)

Anyway, I searched for: “NaNoWriMo with a baby”, “NaNoWriMo with kids”, and “NaNoWriMo post-baby.” I got, across the board, almost the exact same results as before (“Why your NaNoWriMo novel is like your least favorite kid” and “Getting your NaNoWriMo baby to behave” are two truly bizarre 5th+ page Google results). However, I did find a few baby-related (real baby, I mean) NaNoWriMo articles and one interesting blog post

But absolutely none of them talked about attempting NaNoWriMo with a newborn. With a 6-month-old, with a 1-year-old, with two toddlers, with twin toddlers, etc., yes. But newborns? No. 

This, of course, leads me to believe that most people think I’m absolutely nuts for even attempting NaNoWriMo with a newborn baby. 

If Forrest is born exactly on his due date (which is unlikely, although possible), he will be 8 days old on November 1, aka the start date of NaNoWriMo. If he is born early, he might be 2 weeks old by then. If he is born late, he might only be 4 days old or less or more. Or he could not even be born yet, if he really decides to make my life hard. There are a multitudes of possibilities when it comes to "what my life will be like in November" and I can't predict any of them. 

With all that being said though... I find myself still wanting to try NaNoWriMo. My mom keeps reassuring me that, despite what everyone says, I will have spare time once the baby comes. I will have time to eat and take a quick shower, get work done and cook. Not as much time as right now, mind you, but I won't be losing it immediately. That means in November, I will probably have at least some downtime to dedicate to myself, to staying creative. And who knows, maybe having a baby will inspire me in ways I never expected! 

I'm someone who, very often, relies on the experiences of others to calm my fears. In many ways, this is one of the benefits of the internet. Whenever I'm experiencing a particularly bizarre pregnancy symptoms (strange taste in mouth, pain in my right side, spotting, whatever), I can Google it and find 100 different accounts of what it could be, or how normal it its, or whatever. It's comforting, really. 

So, to have no accounts of a new mom taking on NaNoWriMo is terrifying because it means I'll be embarking on my journey with no past experiences to calm me down or tell me how it will go. It could go fine, like any other year that I've completed a novel. Or it could be awful, a stressful waste of time that makes me feel cranky and silly and dumb, a 1/4-finished novel on my computer and no pretty certificate to print.

I'm willing to take one for the team though. I'm willing to be the first... if only so I can write about it and tell the world, one way or another, if it really is crazy. 

Can We Still Call It Fashion Blogging When All You Write About is Shopping?

Back when I maintained what I tentatively referred to as a fashion blog--was I always lifestyle or something? I don't know--I prided myself on the fact that, most of the time, I wore the same items over and over. To me, that's true of anyone who is fashionable or stylish in a real day-to-day setting. My outfits often featured the same belts, scarves, dresses, and shoes worn in interchangeable ways, which was easy for me and my budget.

As I scroll through my feedly or Bloglovin these days (why do I have two readers?), I notice more and more that all fashion bloggers seem to have one thing in common: they almost never wear something twice. And often, a series of blogs will feature the exact same dress on the exact same day--and of course, they received it for free.

And even if the same bloggers have received the same item at the same time (and inexplicably all posted about it on the same day), none of them style it any differently. A dress paired with nude heels and a white clutch... over and over and over as I scroll through blogs. It's not even aspirational. A cheap dress from ModCloth or Nordstrom is still just a cheap dress if you don't show me how to, I don't know, dress it up for work or dress it down for a BBQ or how to transition it to cooler months. What's the point? 

The element of personal style seems to have been removed from fashion blogging as it becomes more monetized. I'm not one of those people to say that "blogging is dying," but the monetization of more personality-based niche blogs seems to be harming the creativity and ingenuity of those blogs. As well, more and more people seem to be getting into blogging as an "easy fix"--a ready-made career where you can get free clothes with minimal effort. 

The more I thought about this, the more I realized it really bothered me how homogenous and boring the "big" blogs had become. At the same time, the blogs I'd loved (and that had stayed unique through the years) were floundering: they received less and less good deals and all seemed to be embarking on a personal crisis (which, Lord knows, I'd been there too). Then, one day, Danny said something that made me realize what was going on. He said, "It's not really fashion blogging though, is it? It's just a shopping blog for all the stuff they buy." And... he's not wrong, really. 

Sadly, fashion blogging has become more about acquisition.

I've written about this in regards to scrapbooking. The community seems to more about constantly buying, buying, buying new (admittedly cute) stuff, and less about tutorials or demonstrations to use said stuff. This is seen in haul videos and posts, in empties videos and posts, and outfit posts. 

If your blog is mostly just about shopping (no matter what you're shopping for), isn't it just a shopping blog, a blog to write about all the things you constantly acquire? If you don't write or demonstrate how to use them, how to remix them, how to implement anything in a way beyond simply having it... really, what's the point of labeling a fashion blog or a scrapbooking blog or a beauty blog anything other than a shopping blog? 

I think this is a frustration that lots of blog readers are having. You see this mostly in communities like Get Off My Internets. Whether you agree with the premise of an anonymous community where people can complain about bloggers or not, GOMI represents some of the common critiques and attitudes about blogs: who cares about one woman buying a bunch of crap she simply doesn't really need and never doing anything with it? The number of fashion, beauty, and lifestyle bloggers that ultimately get labeled with "shopping addict" is astounding. Truth be told, it's most of them... and I don't think that label is necessarily wrong in a vast majority of cases. 

Blogging isn't an art that is dying. There are lots of interesting blogs not related to fashion, beauty, or lifestyle that don't get pulled into the consumerist obsession with constant shopping. And obviously, those types of blogs are still very profitable: the number of women earning a decent living (or at least enough to supplement another income) off a fashion, beauty, or lifestyle blog is still very high. And really, that's one of the coolest parts of niche blogging, the fact that so many women have made careers for themselves out of it. 

I do wonder, however, what the answer is. Will niche lifestyle blogs ever snap back into what they once were? As long as interest from big brands exists (and there is an outlet for them to promote using sponsored blog posts and courtesy-of clothing), many blogs will remain in the rut of "shopping exclusively." But I hope that someday the blogs of the past will emerge: great outfit posts, great make up tutorials, and great DIY posts that are only about sharing great content and advice, not appeasing a sponsor. 

It Took Three Tries, but I Love Stitch Fix

I cried when I opened my second Stitch Fix box (referred to as a "Fix"). I'd harbored suspicions that my maternity status and my size was limiting my options since my first failed Fix, but the second Fix confirmed it. Nothing jumped out at me as "young" or "stylish" or even "cute." It was just frumpy, boring, plain basics. Things I could get cheaper elsewhere and didn't need to hire a specialty service to find. 

After my first Fix, I'd emailed Stitch Fix customer service to inquire as to how, exactly, things were picked for my box and what had went wrong. I'd spent a stupid amount of time answering the Stitch Fix Style Profile; I'd even dedicated time to pinning things on Pinterest to a board that I included in my Style Profile. I'd written long paragraphs on my favorite patterns, my favorite styles, my hesitancy towards anything "boho," my dislike of how frumpy all maternity clothes are. I'd put in effort. But that first Fix didn't seem to return the effort. In fact, it felt like they'd wandered through a warehouse, grabbed the first five things in my maternity size they could find, and shoved them in a box. 

Stitch Fix was obviously sad that I hated what I'd received (minus a dress, that I love and wear at least once a week, but was admittedly out of my budget). They offered me a second Fix for free. 

What does that mean? It meant that the $20 "styling fee" you pay to receive your fix was on the house. If you decide to keep any items from the box, you'll receive a $20 credit towards those items, since you already paid that amount. (However, if you decide not to keep anything, you lose that $20; you don't get it back and it isn't applied to a future Fix.) So basically, I was getting a new box of stuff and $20 credit. 

I was impressed with their Customer Service response and excited to receive a second Fix, hopeful that whatever had gone awry would be solved and I'd love everything in it. 

It wasn't meant to be. I received my second Fix and it was the same, or potentially worse, than the first Fix. Everything was blah, boring, and, of course, frumpy. One shirt, infamously, had a knot in the front that made it look pretty obscene on my baby bump. 

This time, I wasn't just disappointed. I was hopping mad. I'd expressed my concern that it felt like someone was just flinging whatever they could find in my size in a box and now I was convinced that was true. I received a three pack of one-size-fits-all camisoles. Seriously. I read a lot of reviews and I've read a lot of Stitch Fix and no one, no one, that I can remember has ever received a three pack of one-size-fits-all camisoles. That just doesn't make sense. I can buy that at Target or Wal-Mart. 

I fired off an email to customer service, again, mentioning my previous ticket numbers and my disappointment that nothing had been done to improve what I was receiving. What was the point of a "free" box if the stuff in it is just as bad as the first box that caused me to get that "free" box?? 

The emails I received in return from Customer Service were disappointing. I suspect that the person responding was relatively new. It wasn't the same person as before, as I'd hoped, but was instead someone who seemed to be typing right out of a script--a dead giveaway for a newbie who is overwhelmed by a complex customer service issue. I requested someone else answer my emails and received a third response from her, apologizing and using the exact same canned language as the first two emails. Cute. 

Then I received a phone call. 

It was from Julia and I was in the bathtub, nursing my swollen feet and swollen face from crying over my swollen body and disappointing fashion prospects. Julia is a stylist at Stitch Fix. She assured me that it wasn't my specific size or maternity status that was preventing me from receiving good items. However, she just wasn't 100% sure what had gone wrong; she admitted that, looking at my Style Profile and my Pinterest board, my style was crystal clear and the items I'd received were not in line with my style at all. She agreed they were boring and bland, and could understand why I was so miffed by them. It felt good to hear someone agree with my concerns and thoughts, because I'd begun to wonder if I was just hard to please. She did say that my request to not receive synthetic fabrics may have contributed, so I agreed to try out some alternate fabrics to see if they agreed with my itchy preggo skin. 

Julia offered me one more "free" Fix (remember: $20 credit) in a week and a half. She offered to style this box herself, personally, and would take extra time to send me stuff she knew I would love. She couldn't promise to keep items in my desired budget, but I agreed that if something was exactly what I wanted, I was willing to pay more for it. 

That was 10 days ago. I received my third Fix. As I nervously carried it upstairs, I wondered whether I would love it or if, for a third time, I would open the style card showing all the items I'd receive with dread and disappointment. 

In every fix, you receive a tissue-wrapped bundle of clothes and a teal envelope. Inside the envelope is a note from your stylist and five cards showing the items you've received and two different ways to style them. This is a great way to see what all is in your box without tearing open the bundle (although you can do that too, I guess). Also inside the envelope is an invoice that lists the price for all five items, as well as the discount you will receive if you keep (and thus, purchase) all five items. 

Looking at my style cards, I liked every single item I received. This was a first for me, but it's the best kind of first. 

I received a pair of leggings, three tops, and a dress. The leggings I knew I would keep immediately (if they fit right) because they were made of a sturdy material that is higher quality than the cotton leggings I normally buy. As I started putting them on, I had a moment of nervousness that they would be too small--but they weren't! They have a zipped detail on the ankles that I love. 

Of the three tops I received, I ended up deciding to keep one: a black and white striped tunic with a pink detail at the top. It's basically what I've been looking for since getting pregnant. It's lightweight and very flattering. If you want to see what it looks like, I posted it on my Instagram

The other two tops were a boho-esque white lace tunic that was a little too tight on the bottom and a little too big at the top, and a blue sleeveless top that was just a little too long on me. They were both really cute on, but the fit problems meant I couldn't justify keeping them. 

The dress I received looked like a t-shirt dress on the styling card. In reality, I'd called it a 70s-reminiscent skater dress with a slim top and a-line bottom. In orange, it was quite cute, but it fit too tight across the chest, which make the skirt not fall right. 

I packed up the three items I decided not to keep, checked out on Stitch Fix, and sent probably the nicest email I've ever sent in my life to my stylist, Julia. She couldn't promise she would be my stylist whenever I get my next Fix, but I'm satisfied enough with this Fix that it doesn't really matter. I've officially gotten what I wanted out of Stitch Fix: a decent outfit that makes me feel like a million bucks. 

Despite my first failed attempts at Stitch Fix, I think I can ultimately say it's a valuable service, to the right customer. If you're tired of shopping, don't like it, or just plain don't have time, it can be valuable to try Stitch Fix; if you have a clear idea of what kind of styles you like (and those you don't), it makes it that much easier. But the casual shopper, who loves to hunt for great deals or genuinely enjoys shopping, won't get much out of it. Under normal circumstances, I don't think I'd like Stitch Fix... but being in the midst of maternity clothes that I hate, it felt like a great way to get some things that actually look decent and don't require me to spend hours searching for them myself!

If you'd like to try Stitch Fix, you can sign up here. (In full disclosure, that is a referral link; if you use it to sign up, I'll receive a $25 credit.) 

My Pre-Baby Wishlist

Are wish list blog posts annoying? Maybe. But I've always liked them. It's kind of fun to see the other things that people search for on the Internet, or what they want for their birthday or just because. Doing them too often can be annoying because at a certain point, coveting stuff all the time is kind of concerning. But once and a while, a wish list blog post is fun. 

And this one is one really, long pointed stare at my husband. I've never been really obsessive about trying to get him to get me specific things for my birthday or our anniversary, but I've been making a really big deal about the things I want for the last months of my pregnancy. These aren't necessarily things I want for my birthday, because my birthday is October 20 and my due date is October 23. Waiting until potentially 3 days before giving birth to enjoy some new stuff seems like a recipe for disaster. 

Here are my (super duper basic) wishes for the last few months of my pregnancy. 

1. Striped Top

Guys, we need to talk about how much I want a black and white striped top. (I have an image in my head of it being majority white with thin, wide set black stripes.) Ideally, it wouldn't be maternity so that I could hopefully wash and shrink it down to post-bump status. If you're wondering why I'm jonesing for a relatively basic top so much, see my Maternity Style Pinterest board. It's the perfect Fall wardrobe addition (and it won't be too small like the striped top I own currently). 

2. Knee High Boots

For the past few years, I've operated under the assumption that I have "wide calves." But I actually, kind of don't? My calves have a circumference of 14 inches. Which, sounds huge, but is actually fairly typical. The average size 8 pair of boots has a circumference of 15-17 inches. Should work out, right? Wrong! Because I've never worn a size 8 boot in my life! I've always worn children's boots (size 4-ish and they have a calf circumference of... about 10-12 inches) or a size 6 (that typically has a calf circumference of about 12-13 inches). The size of the boot is correlated to the circumference of the calf... so if you're like me and have fairly standard size calves (or perhaps even muscular for your body type), but have always worn an itty bitty shoe size, you've never been able to find knee high boots that fit. 

With this knowledge, and puffy feet, I feel like the time has arrived: I can buy size 8 or 8.5 size boots and have them fit my calves and my feet (with thick socks). I've been scoping out boots for the last two months and I'm still undecided. I want to see them in person, I decide, and then I'll find a great pair of Mukluks on Zulily or something. 

3. A Knit Scarf

It's warm. It's cozy. It doubles as a nursing cover. It goes with every outfit. This year, I want a blanket scarf pre-Fall (so I avoid the massive sell out run on them!) and a really nice, knitted infinity scarf. 

4. Naked Smoky Palette

When I heard that Urban Decay was releasing a third (!!!) Naked palette, I had the immediate thought that they were jumping the shark. And I was wrong because the Naked Smokey palette is gorgeous. (I actually really love the Naked 3 palette as well because I loooove rose gold eye shadows, but I always look like I've got a bad case of pink eye when I pair pink-y eyeshadows with my hazel eyes.) 

5. An iMac

This is the most "dream worthy" gift I want. Someone needs to get me an iMac though. My trusty MacBook is starting to slow down and gets a little bit more laggy everyday. I've had it since my senior year of college--that's 5 years of use! I'm ready to graduate to a desktop computer and use my MacBook as a "use around the house" device. 

Oh No, My Shoes Don't Fit

On Monday, I put on my plaid print maternity dress (not my favorite) and a denim jacket. Minimum effort for maximum effect, which is really all I can ask from maternity clothes these days. For the past few weeks, I have found myself wearing the same pair of shoes every single day: my blue and white striped loafers that I impulse bought from Old Navy. They are already worn in, with embarrassing prints on the inside, and scuffed up somewhat badly. I made myself promise that I wouldn't wear my striped flats again. 

Instead, I put on a pair of strappy, studded, flat sandals that I've owned since the summer of 2010. They have served me well as a go-to, slip on sandal in the summer months... and they've always been a smidge too big, flopping away from my foot on the inside.

Monday morning, I slipped on these old, trusty sandals as not my first choice, but rather my last one. I would have preferred to wear a wedge, but my sore feet can't really handle walking even my 1-block walk in them. I put them on, drove to work, and worked 8 hours. 

Throughout my workday, I kept noticing my feet feeling, well, number. Especially the toes. But my office gets pretty cold, especially with air conditioning, so I moved my feet around and told myself to ignore it. The feeling got more and more intense until I left around 3pm. 

It wasn't until I was standing in the elevator and looking down at my feet that I realized the straps of my sandals that travel across the base of my toes were, well, nearly imbedded in my foot. I wiggled my feet around, pushed my sandals back a little. They moved, but my toes were horribly constricted and looked like fat little piggies, perfectly bright pink. 

As I walked to the parking garage (and thus, my car), my feet started to ache, the constricting strap cutting into my toes and making every step painful. 

My stupid feet. My stupid, fat feet! I wanted to scream. When I got to my car, I loaded my purse and lunch bag into the passenger seat, then promptly tore off my sandals and threw them on the floor of my car. I was mad. 

It was a foot betrayal. 

I drove how barefoot, feeling excited and free with my feet less constricted--and really happy that the feeling of numbness quickly disappeared from my poor toes. But I also found myself thinking: This can't happen. 

I can handle my clothes getting smaller. We all expect that in pregnancy, right? You can't wear your normal jeans or your favorite t-shirt or most of your underwear drawer. 

But you can always wear your shoes. 

My tiny shoe size has always been a comfort to me. Wearing a size 4-6 reminds me that my body has the potential to be small. No matter how unhappy I might be with my size 8 or 10 pants or my size L top, I knew that my feet were small. Society could suck it--I have small feet!!

Realizing, with a sudden and painful stab (like that of constricted toes), that my shoe size is changing. Is it swollen feet? (They're puffy, but not that puffy.) Is it the tendons in my feet shifting? (Maybe? Is that a thing?) Are my feet just growing with the rest of me, rebelling against what I've done purposefully? 

I can't fit into any of my favorite kitten heel shoes (my high heel of choice is, hilariously, a teeny tiny kitten heel). I can't fit into some of my smaller, more narrow flats. And most of my sandals cut into my puffy little feat. 

But I can wear my loafers. Trusty loafers. They never fail to disappoint, do they? Except that loafers don't go with every outfit and, come fall, it would be nice to wear other closed toe shoes. 

As soon as I got home Monday (and stopped hyperventilating), I found myself staring into the hallway closet where I store my shoes. Flats and boots and sandals and heels. I have so many shoes. So many teeny tiny shoes, size 4s or 5s, 6s, a few 7s. So many that I can't fit into, that make my feet look like bread that's proofed too long. 

In times of distress, I find that reorganizing always helps. So I did that. I looked at all my shoes; I counted them (don't ask how many, please don't); I organized them into two piles, too small and fit ok. I organized them by the mere fact of whether I could still wear them or now. I found myself comforted by the number that I could still fit my foot into (comfortably). More than just a few pairs of loafers: most of my non-pointed toe flats, some heels, my boots. 

It's hard to let go of an old fact about myself. I feel defined by the things I've always thought myself to be: a writer; a reader; a good student; a girl who wore a small size of shoe. It's hard to tell myself that there are other things that define me, more important things than my feet, and that a few pairs of too-small shoes aren't that big of a deal... but then I remember, I really love my shoe collection. 

All the Things I Just Can't Wait For

Sometimes, I worry that I sound too disappointed when I talk about having a boy. As I've written before, my disappointment is not really "this is a disappointment" and more "that was not what I expected." I'm less disappointed, actually, and more sad. When my friend from college, Bek, was visiting, I managed to convey just why I wanted a little girl so bad: I love my mom. That's it, pure and simple. I love my mom; I talk to hear at least once a day by text and visit her as much as I can. I love our relationship. I love that when I was 14 and just about to go into high school, she took me shopping and told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was beautiful and would always be successful because I was smart and that I would really enjoy high school. (That last bit was wishful thinking for both of us.) I love going to Portland with her, running errands, looking through old photos. I love my mom. And I wanted a little girl so I could have the same kind of relationship, because the relationship between mothers and daughters is vastly different from that between mothers and sons. 

I realize now, after a lot of time having passed between finding out little Forrest's gender and now, that that kind of expectation can be really damaging. By trying to force a certain kind of relationship on my child and I, I would undoubtedly be disappointed over and over again. I don't know what Forrest will be like and, even if he was a girl, I have no idea if we would connect and bond the exact same way my mother and I do. 

Thanks to the relationship between my mother and I, I know exactly how to be a great mother to a daughter: I know the things I want to say and the things I don't want to say; I know what to do, how to act, how to talk. What I don't know is how to be a mother to a son because, well, that's just not my experience. 

For now, all I can do is focus on the things I'm excited to do with Forrest and hope that he enjoys them to... and that I learn, somewhere along the way, how to be the best mommy I can be. 

Here's a short list of all the things Forrest can be assured I will drag him to: 

  1. Disneyland. Thanks to my friend, Meghan, I have a set of Mickey Mouse ears for him already. Several people have asked me what I'll do if Forrest doesn't like Disneyland. But really, does anyone not like Disneyland? It all depends on your experience. And I'm going to make sure he has the best time. Mainly because we'll go in the off season. 
  2. Halloweentown. Did you know the classic Disney Channel Original Halloweentown was filmed in St. Helens, Oregon? And did you know that every year they recreate the set of the movie in St. Helens, Oregon? Did you know I grew up obsessed with Halloweentown and did not know this fact until just two days ago? Did you know that literally nothing will stop me from dragging Forrest there next year and maybe this year?  
  3. Countless posed portrait shoots. Gotta capture the cute... while forcing him to wear a tiny suit. 
  4. The Newport Aquarium. And I will make him take a picture with the shark jaw, of course. 
  5. The High Desert Museum. One of my favorite places around Bend, I don't think I've ever heard anyone talk about it. It's not as exciting as an aquarium or drive through safari, but I loved visiting as a kid and teenager. They have foxes, owls, and more, plus a replica of a central Oregon pioneer town. It's a mix of natural history and Oregon history, all wrapped up in one. 
  6. A million different pumpkin patches. You will love Fall, Forrest. You will love it!

An Ode to Amazon & the Weirdest Stuff I've Ordered

On Amazon Prime Day, a day that will live in infamy for its hilariously bad deals (it really was like the clearance section at TJ Maxx), I ordered a highchair and bra extenders. In terms of Amazon purchases, these aren't all together the weirdest things to order: I got the highchair of my choice for Forrest for $70 cheaper than usual (and $90 cheaper than Target) and I got bra extenders because, well, you know. 

It got me thinking about when I started ordering from Amazon and what I ordered... and what I've ordered over the years. 

I'm probably a bit of a strange bird in terms of my generation: I wasn't big into online shopping until probably 2010 or 2011. I never trusted online deals or any particular websites and in retrospect, this is probably why I was so good at not spending all my money immediately when I was younger (although I was very good at that early on). 

However, once I got into the swing of things on Amazon, I really went for it. Here's a run down. 

2008

In my first Amazon order ever, I purchased a workbook and laboratory manual to accompany my Deutsch: Na klar! An Introductory Germany Course textbook. Obviously, I was prepped to study German. Hilariously, the workbook I received also featured the teacher's answer section in the back, which I used because I'm not dumb and I'm a bit lazy when it comes to workbooks. 

2009

A few months later, I ordered over $200 worth of books, including Walt Whitman, Herman Melville, and Young LoniganI remember this term of my school career and I remember it well, because I was really tired of reading old white guy literature by the end of it. Thankfully, I also ordered a copy of Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl to break up the monotony. 

2010

Another year, another $200+ on books. This was the year I got really into sociology, obviously. A sample of the books I read include A New Look at Black Families, How Does it Feel to be a Problem, and the Rich Get Rich and the Poor Get PrisonAs a side note, I'm currently rereading How Does it Feel to be a Problem and it's so good; it's only $10. Buy it. 

2011

This was the year I started to really get into Amazon. I ordered my last bundle of school books (sample: Shannon: A Poem of the Lewis and Clark Expedition), but I placed five other orders of non-school books and other weirdo stuff, including my camera. A link no longer exists for it, but I also ordered a bunch of bulk camera lens wipes. 

2012

I am not a night shopper and I don't usually make impulse decisions. But in my two paltry Amazon orders of 2012, I made two intensely impulsive decisions. On one of Danny's visits home, I bought Katamari Damacy for his Playstation 3. This game is essentially a game version of taking acid and flying to Tokyo, then trying to navigate your way around mid-trip. I also ordered the stupid expensive Lord of the Rings extended edition blu-rays because, duh, Danny and I needed them.

2013

2013 was the year I got Amazon Prime and it made a huge impact on my life. I ordered a planner that I literally have no recollection of using, a really horrible novel that I read on my honeymoon, books about emotional eating, and a copy of this awful movie for Danny

2014

In 2014, I hit my Amazon stride. Up until 2014, I'd been placing between 2 and 6 orders on Amazon. This year, I upped the ante and placed a total of 15 orders. It's almost embarrassing. This was also the year I started clawing my way out of the deep, dark depression that had encompassed my life in 2013 and early 2014, and in some ways, my purchases mirror that. 

I ordered the Venture Bros, a bunch of Kong toys for Remus, 21 Jump Street, TWO of these jump drives (Danny knows why), and a ton of Quest bars. Between these seemingly normal-if-disparate things, I ordered a ton of phone cases, a case for my Kindle, what feels like waaaay too many Kindle books, and a lot of chevron print stuff. 

2015

Don't judge me: in the first 7 months of 2015, I've placed more orders than I did for 2014. I don't leave my house anymore, guys! I'm a bloated, miserable, whiny, pregnant mess. What can I say? 

I've ordered Tummy Drops that made me sicker, Mama Butter which smells good but does nothing, tiny baby glasses,  this weird movie that is apparently part of a series, an embarrassing amount of scrapbooking supplies*, and stuff for my baby shower. I also ordered vitamin B6, prenatal vitamins (which I ended up trading for gummies from Target), at least 20 Kindle books, and another heap of iPhone covers. What can I say, I'm a collector for those iPhone covers. 

*If you're looking for cheap scrapbooking stuff, seriously check Amazon before going to a physical store. 


In many ways, tracing my Amazon purchases is like tracing my life. Everything in my world revolved around school for a long time. Post-school, it was cameras, GRE study books, and the occasional movie. In the year(s), I was depressed it was movies, weird video games, books to help with my depression (that didn't help), and gifts. In the past few years, I've ordered gifts, things that revolve around my hobbies (scrapbooking, reading, planners), things that revolve around my unending obsession with my body and its size (weight loss books, more books by Geneen Roth, a Fitbit, Quest bars), and alas, baby stuff. Enough baby stuff to build a tiny mountain. 

I can trace the crests and valleys of my life, the highs and lows, the classes I loved and hated, the months where I most wanted to curl into a ball and disappear. It's strange what an online purchase history can reveal--and what it can make me feel.