So we’re moving (on up! to the North east side!). But we bought a house. At the end of may my sister is coming to visit for 2 months to help with our daughter and with moving. I havent seen her in so long, i cant even express how much I miss her in words. I cared for her when she was a baby and I feel like i raised her and my brother for a short time. I love them both more than myself. They are both amazing little humans. I cannot wait to hug her. I have missed her for far too long.
Like a lot of blogs I took that ridiculously long period of time where I had PLANNED on blogging a lot but of course, did not. but here I am almost a year later, crawling back to my old blog with millions of life changes.
I gave birth to my daughter last October. She is amazing like anything that you created with your own body, could be.
We are buying a house and moving our lives several miles away from what we are used to and the ease of what we love. But we are older. Settling down. Raising our children. It’s time.
Things have been different, for me, family wise. No one can get along, in a time when everyone should come together. It is sad. It is un-called for. It is, my family.
Being pregnant causes you to be insane and that’s okay because you have an excuse for this short amount of time. (My husband is sweet and insists I am not insane. But he is married to me and has to say those things.) At least this is what I tell myself after spending almost an hour looking up various baked goods because If I didn’t find something sweet to bake I was going to hurt someone. (or get the spoon and peanut butter) and then I saw one photo of a breadstick and spent the next 35 minutes preparing whole wheat garlic breadsticks and making my own marinara sauce. And it was delicious. I regret nothing.
There are two constant things about me being pregnant. First, I’m easily influenced, not by commercials so much because fast food grossed me out before I was pregnant and it still does now. However get me on a recipe site or let me at a home/garden/food/something or other magazine, I’m done. Second, once my stomach/brain has decided it wants to eat something I have make EVERY effort to make it or trick myself into focusing on something else. Because, seeing a pink lemonade cake and not being able to make it so-instead-you-just-drink-a-glass-of-lemonade-in-hopes-to-calm-the-pink-lemonade-cake-shaped-spot-in-your-soul actually only makes the urge worse. (Have I made this cake yet? No I have not. I want it! Badly! But I am also lazy and my husband isn’t a lemonade fan so I can’t justify making a whole cake for just me. and maybe the cat.)
Which brings me to the tricking myself part. I started looking at other things I love and need: snacks. And there I found a recipe for Blackbean-Pineapple Guacamole. And my stomach/brain said “YES! PLEASE WE HAVE TO HAVE IT!” and so it was. I’ll post the recipe if anyone wants it. (It might sound a little weird but honestly it is amazing and no I don’t eat pickles with my ice cream so you can just shush and not be like “well why take advice from a pregnant woman with wild cravings?!” It’s good. I promise. Unless you don’t like it then you obviously have no idea what’s good for you and shouldn’t have listened to a pregnant woman with wild cravings.)
2 medium avocados (mash ‘em up, duh)
1/4 cup green salsa
1 tbsp sour cream
1/2 cup crushed pineapple (I added a little less, I’ll be honest I was scared of how sweet it would be.)
1/2 cup canned black beans (drained and rinsed)
1 jalapeno seeded/diced (I used 1/2 a sm. can of diced jalapenos)
2 Tbsp. red onion (diced)
2 Tbsp cilantro (finely chopped)
1 Tbsp. minced garlic (powdered works just fine just not a whole tbsp)
1 Tbsp lime juice
salt to taste
1/4 tsp cumin
(there is an option to add 1/4 cup shredded Monterey Jack cheese. I didn’t do this and it was still amazing. But who doesn’t love cheese?)
Moosh it all up in a bowl. Stir however much you want. Chill for 2 hours. Or be like my husband and I and eat immediately. I’m shocked I’m not eating it while I’m posting this to be honest. But mostly because I don’t have enough lap space with the computer and the cat smooshed up against me. Sad.
My Turtle, Scuttles. I swear she isn’t dead, just sleeping. Even though the cord in the background does nothing for my argument.
My cat. Fatty. Yes, he looks annoyed like that most of the time.
My name is Lisa. That is not my God given name but some people call me that and some people call me other things (that may or may not be work appropriate and since I didn’t mark this blog as NSFW. We’ll leave it at that). I am a half employed, semi housewife. Meaning most of the time I am at home but I do have a job that affords me the ability to make my own schedule. Because I am that awesome. And who else would make these posts if I had to work all the time. Not my cat. He is too damn lazy. (Yes I have a cat. and Yes. I’ll make posts about him.) But, I am not a Bravo T.V. RealHousewife. So we wont be reading about my shopping escapades, unless you count grocery shopping, and I wont be starting fights with Lucinda because she didn’t bring the right champagne to our tea party. I know. I apologize. A lot of you are probably leaving now from reading this. (I can’t really blame you)
I have a husband. He is probably better than your husband but I’m biased and since I’ve never had another husband I also have nothing to compare it too. I have a step child or bonus child or whatever they call them and I’m pretty awesome at that job too, although most of the time I have no idea what I’m doing but my step son laughs a lot and hugs me and seems to miss me when I’m not around and that to me says “Good job!” Also he tells me he loves me from time to time and from what I hear that’s like winning a ribbon or a trophy. But being a step parent causes crippling anxiety about all the things you can possibly do to make this child hate you. Like sneezing wrong, or wearing an ugly shirt, or telling him “no”, or just being awful because you’re not his mom and he doesn’t have to listen to you. D: (for the record he has never once said that to me, but these are the fears you live with being a step-parent.)
I’m also currently pregnant. I’ve read books and I go to the Dr. and they tell me things, mostly “not to do things”. But honestly I just kind of sit there like @.@ and hope that I’m not completely ruining this child every time I eat a turkey sandwich or have a drink of soda. I’ve been told “I’m probably not” by completely rational people. So. Here’s to Hoping.
P.S. I have a turtle too. and I like to cook. (‘cause duh, housewife)