• Hi, I’m Blair.

    A sweet Southern girl. Married 4+ years to a devilishly handsome man. Harrison est. October 14, 2009. Miscarriage survivor. Reflux warrior. Battling postpartum depression. Working mom that drinks entirely too much caffeine in the morning. Over-sharing extraordinaire. Hates celery & liars. Loves chocolate chip cookies & to-do lists. "Blair" is my pen name.
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    My Little Buffalo

I promise, I'm not going to continue to be all I-hate-my-body emo for much longer.

We’ll get back to tales of Harrison, McFatty Monday is starting with the New Year, & I am pretty sure that once I go back to work, you’ll be begging me to stop writing.  Until then, this is my current mental status, like it or not (I, personally, loathe it).  I’ve had a few people [...]

"It’s amazing how fast you went down."

This would be what Nate said to me the other night in bed. Concerning my belly. Yeah, that’s what he said. It was an excellent chuckle. But when you’re too exhausted & busy to eat, it’s pretty easy to drop weight. I’m still swollen to the point that the discovery of my ankle bones will [...]

Battle wounds.

When God said to go forth & multiply, Phyllis thought that included her as well. These are her disciples.

I used to like driving in tunnels as a kid, but this kind of tunnel sucks.

Carpal, that is. My fingers are so swollen that I cannot straighten them. Or bend them more than a few twitches. I can’t hold a pen. Or an eating utensil. I wanted a baked potato & salad for lunch, but realized I couldn’t hold the fork. So I got a sandwich. I want to cry. [...]

This sounds dirty when, in fact, it's lamesauce.

So every day that Harrison learns a new skill, I lose one. Like today, when I did a complete face-plant in the kitchen, attempting to pick up an ice cube off the floor. Equilibrium FAIL. & then in the parking lot of my office, I almost created another vision of grace trying to put my [...]

Stage 1 of Being Really Effing Uncomfortable.

I know, I know…it gets worse. IT GETS WORSE. JUST YOU WAIT. Be thankful that you are not covered in rashes, hemmoroids that would rival Mt. Everest, oozing stretch marks, & unable to leave the toilet because your child dropped kicked you straight in the bladder, BECAUSE IT’S COMING. Right? I believe that’s the protocol, [...]

Fight Club.

He’s trying to flip back to transverse. ::sigh:: DON’T YOU KNOW THAT GOD WANTS YOU TO BE HEAD-DOWN, HARRISON? GET RIGHT WITH JESUS, BOY. I wish I could explain the incredible PRESSURE on my left hip as he pushes up against it — where before he was headbutting down on my hip, it’s now a [...]

Dear Harrison, I understand that Momma’s left hip bone is really a pain in your ass. But darling, it’s not going to move. If you want to be head-down, you will simply have to find a way around it. & while I know it goes against every grain in your testosterone-filled body, I beg you [...]

Baby Hiccups.

While endearing, it begins to feel like you’re being pecked to death by a chicken after 45 minutes straight. I believe Stewie gave us the best example:[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNkp4QF3we8&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0xcc2550&color2=0xe87a9f&border=1]

Who's afraid of the big bad stretchie?

NOT ME. Yes, that is my right hip in all of it’s blubbery, pasty Irish glory. & the guests of honor, of course — my stretch marks! I chuckle when pregnant women run screaming to their local Target, ravishing the cream isles at the first sign of a pink line on their hips or belly. [...]