Just wanted to quickly check-in to give a big, fat, hormonal THANK YOU to the kind comments, thoughts, tweets and FB messages on my post for my grandfather.

I had a moment of sheer panic immediately after hitting “publish” that perhaps it was insensitive and inappropriate to share with the world, but your prayers and well-wishes reminded me just how great this whole creep-on-the-Internet-thing can be. It also subsequently sent me into grateful tears in my cubicle, which then led to an ice cream binge at 10am, but that’s a story for another day…(the things you do when you can’t cope with massive amounts of wine)

I’m long overdue for a Weekly Update as well as sharing info on how everything went at my appointment last week, but will be out of town early next week with family to celebrate my grandfather. In the meantime, I’ll give you a quick recap:

placenta moved (yay!)

choroid plexus cysts on Charlotte’s brain are gone (YAY!)

passed my gestational diabetes test (don’t even know how that’s possible but thankyoulordsweetbabyjesus)



….so I am off pelvic rest (bow chicka wow wow)

….and back on the “natural” aka med-free birth plan (remind me again why I’m so excited for that?)




Yesterday was a bittersweet day for our family, as I welcomed exciting news about the health of both baby Charlotte and myself, my grandfather lost his battle with lung cancer. I originally wanted to share both the good and the sad in one post, but quickly realized my grandfather deserves the spotlight all to himself on this one. I’ll follow up later this week with more baby updates. 

In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count.

It’s the life in your years. – Abraham Lincoln

At 90 years young, my grandfather certainly had plenty of years in his life to account for…

but more importantly, he had one hell of a life in those years.


He was the type of guy who made it a personal mission to dance with every daughter, daughter-in-law, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter at family weddings…including my own.


89 years old and rocking that dance floor

and the man responsible for a family that makes this big of a beach circle every summer on the Cape


and the only person I know who can make a Hawaiian shirt look that good


Although a devout Notre Dame fan, he is the guy who would fatefully put on his Florida State hat whenever he knew I was coming over. He had an uncanny ability of knowing exactly when you needed a hug and would frequently fall asleep watching the Red Sox games, only to wake up the second you tried to change the channel (I still haven’t completely figured out how he’d do that).

There are so many little things I find in common with my grandfather. I’m pretty sure he’s responsible for passing on a serious ice cream addiction gene to our entire family…as well as our daily banana at breakfast (a necessity, NOT an option). We both happen to have a stubborn streak that runs a mile long and enjoy our 5 o’clock cocktails surrounded by loved ones. It is all those little things that give me comfort now – knowing that even though he is gone, there will always be pieces of him with me.


Especially, genetically. Do you see those noses? Identical.

More than anything, I’m happy to know that Heaven got a little happier yesterday as he’s finally dancing along to Frank Sinatra with my Nana again. Hope you have a close eye on us, you two. We’ll need you to keep us in line.

There are many, many things about pregnancy that are kept hidden from the general public.

I think it’s a massive conspiracy to keep the world procreating, because if women knew what they were really getting themselves into, they’d probably think twice. Snissing, anyone? (Look it up. I’m not telling you what it is)

One of the biggest changes, beyond the drastically expanding ass…errrrr, belly…is the effect this pregnancy and resulting amazing, prodigy child (duh) has over my friendships. Sean and I don’t have any friends in Boston who are currently pregnant or have a baby already, so it’s made navigating this insane life change an interesting experience.

Getting pregnant, I was concerned we’d lose some of our friends. We developed quite the reputation for our fondness for libations and wondered how that’d affect our dynamic with people. To be totally honest, we both put on a pretty good WOO-HOO front, but we’re secretly incredibly lazy and will often choose sweatpants on the couch over an evening of drunken escapades. A side effect of getting older, perhaps? I’ve done my best to rally for certain occasions and been the DD when necessary, but I can only imagine it’ll be even more difficult once the baby actually arrives. It’s much easier to cart around a giant gut than a screaming infant. No one wants one of those at their house for very long. I worry that we’ll lose touch with people as we move into this next life phase and our friendships with them will become memories and stories Sean and I trade over 3 am feedings.

Although I know it’s natural for friendships to ebb and flow over the different developments in your life, it doesn’t make it easier. My best friend and I completely severed our relationship 2 months before my wedding and it’s a scar that has left a permanent mark on my heart – particularly in regards to these sorts of major life changes. Two years and not a single word between us later, I can’t imagine going through that again with my one of my other close friends. Even in our late 20s/early 30s, we’re all still growing and changing in our personal and professional lives, so I hope we can continue to grow up without growing apart.

On the flip side of things, I’m already feeling anxious about branching out and making new friends…you know, “hip and cool mom friends”. It’s important to me that Charlotte is socialized from a young age and is around as many other children as possible; at the very least, I need to make friends for her sake. The problem there? I’m terrible at it. Small talk makes me want to bang my head into a wall. In my professional life, I constantly need to remind myself: “smile more”, “ask them a question in return”, “don’t be a complete bitch”. Sigh. Socially awkward, party of 1.

In a lot of ways the Internet is my enabler. I can actively participate in blogging and Facebook groups and pregnancy forums, but that doesn’t translate to real life very well. Although I’ve learned so many invaluable things from the wonderful women I’ve “met” through the various social media channels, I can’t neglect the friendships I’ve made (and need to make) back in the real world.

How do people even make friends at 30 – especially without the social crutch of alcohol? Do baby bottles work the same way? Do all the moms stand around in a circle holding their kid’s bottles so their hands are occupied and they don’t annoyingly fidget? Maybe I should send Sean out into the wild to find another future dad who is wandering around aimlessly, mumbling to himself about his knocked-up wife.

In the meantime, I’m just going to abide by the old Girl Scout rule: Make New Friends, But Keep the Old, One is Silver and the Other Gold. I can’t dwell on the friendships I’ve lost or the ones that I inevitably will, so I need to focus on the friends of mine that have been there through everything – who willingly listen to me complain about swollen feet for the 100th time and promise me that I’m “all belly” (kindest lie ever, by the way) – it’s friendships like those that will weather the transition our life is about to make, all the while teaching me how to be a better friend to them  in the process.

TL;DR for the gif-happy crowd? Hormonal pregnant lady whines about her friendships for several paragraphs. The end.

I could probably just slap this baby up here and call it a day:

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Why, yes! Thank you for asking – that is, in fact, a spreadsheet for cloth diaper supplies.

I am very lucky to have a husband who supports my crazy to the fullest extent and puts up with my antics (for the most part). When I asked if he’d be willing to go the cloth diaper route, he was more than happy to jump on board – especially when I laid out how much money we’d save as a result (approximately $1,500-$2,000 per kid – cha ching!).

Once I delved into the world of cloth diapering though, I quickly realized you need a PhD in eco-friendly, hippie crunchy baby speak to understand what any of it means. AIOs? Snappis? Indian vs Chinese pre-folds? a POOP SPRAYER?! Errrr……

We ended up taking a class at a local cloth diaper boutique and it was so incredibly helpful (and slightly comical as Sean accidentally hosed himself down with the aforementioned poop sprayer, which we now affectionately refer to as a diaper bidet. So posh of us!). I won’t bore you with all the details on the different types of diapers (I’m already learning from my last post!), but feel free to email me if you’re interested in completely nerd-ing out over it. I’m all too happy to oblige.

We’ve decided to use a combination of all the styles, ranging from cheapest (but most work) to the most expensive (but more convenient).


Top to Bottom: cloth wipes, pocket liners, prefolds (bleached and unbleached), fitteds, covers, all-in-ones/pockets. WHEW!

Our plan is to use the old school cloth pre-folds for ourselves because they require a little more manhandling and save the easy, breezy all-in-ones for family/friends/daycare/I’m-so-tired-I-want-to-die type situations. We’re also stockpiling a few super-absorbent ones for nighttime, known as “fitteds”, in hopes of curtailing those all-night dance parties she currently hosts in my stomach.

“They” (meaning people who have an actual clue what they are doing) recommend stockpiling 24-36 diapers to start, so I’ve been slowly starting to collect them when I find good deals online. I’m also trying reeeeealllly hard to be practical and order gender neutral colors so that kiddo #2 can use them too. A few pink and purple may have snuck in there, though.


Can I please admit that there is a very strange addiction to buying cloth diaper products? It’s thrilling when you find a good deal and the patterns are just so stinkin’ cute you almost forget how stinkin’ they are going to get (See what I did there?). It’s not just me, either. There are entire forums out there dedicated to other crazy-cakes like myself discussing these things. I’ve found my people.

Over the next few weeks, the real fun will begin. Washing and organizing these puppies.


Yep. That’s what constitutes fun at 7 months pregnant.

Send help.

and wine.


I’ve become annoying.

I hear it as it comes out of my mouth – the know-it-all, over sharing, no one cares besides you, verbal diarrhea – but I’m powerless to stop it.


Being the certain breed of crazy eccentric that I am, I’d like to be as prepared as possible for this whole “give birth and raise a human” thing thats happening in a couple months…so I’ve been doing research. A LOT of research. My nightstand is currently piled high with books on sleep training, breastfeeding, childbirth, and pregnancy – really makes for an easy sleep transition and pleasant dreams, I can assure you.

As a result, I have a lot of random knowledge and methodology rolling around in my brain…and I feel the need to share it. with anyone. who. will. listen. I’m just so fascinated by it all that I seem to forget not everyone else is too. What? You don’t know Ina May Gaskin? Oh let me tell you alllll about her. So sorry, so boring, so not necessary.


The problem is only exacerbated by the fact I have friends who are currently pregnant as well. As we exchange emails, texts, and Facebook messages, I’ve caught myself on more than one occasion rambling on much longer than necessary about cloth diaper detergents and hospital procedures. My logical self is screaming, “shut up. shut up. shut up”, but my pregnant, baby-zilla self says, “Nooooo, this is interesting. They want to  read that article you linked to them about the perils of a non-organic crib mattress”.

My hope is that by publicly shaming myself and acknowledging I have a problem (Hi, my name is Marie and I’ve becoming an annoyingly stereotypical, special snowflake pregnant lady), I can curb the behavior so as not to alienate the few friends I have in real life. I certainly don’t want to push my personal beliefs on anyone else – epidural, natural, hugging a tree, chugging champagne the second it’s finished (yes please!) – your birth is your birth so I need to shut the efffff up. Even more so as I move into the dreaded mom circles – those ladies are notoriously vicious and I’d much rather spend my time discussing Teresa Guidice’s fivehead than my future daughter’s sleep cycle.

So dear friends and family, both in real life and interwebz, I’ll shut the heck up now. Unless, of course,  you want to discuss The Business of Being Born, in which case I’ve got a few things I found interesting…


How far along? 24w3d

How big is baby? over a pound and the length of an ear of corn.

Total weight gain/loss: Welllll my neighbor asked me yesterday if “I was sure I’m not having twins?”…so let’s just leave it at that.


Workouts for the week: I’ve been slacking. Managed to squeeze in 4 45-minute dog walks but that’s it

Maternity clothes? I’m in desperate need of more options, but I’m holding out until the end of August so I can buy fall clothes and make the season switch. Hello cardigans and leggings, good riddance you effing sundresses.

Sleep: I’m convinced I’m a complete masochist. No matter how much water I drink during the day, I am absolutely parched right at bedtime so I end up chugging a few glasses of water. Of course, this means I’m up several times a night to pee. When will I learn?

Unrelated? I had a dream this week that Sean owned a chocolate chip cannoli store. You can imagine my excitement…and subsequent disappoint when I woke up and figured out it wasn’t real.

Best moment this week: booked our newborn photographer – she seems amazing and I’m hoping to get a ton of adorable pictures that make my ovaries explode a million times over.

Movement: Lots of kicks and rolls. Charlotte is definitely a dancing queen. The girl loves a good nap in the early evening hours and is ready to rock and roll all. night. long.


Her party usually starts around 11pm and continues at each pee break during the night. Thanks for the 4 am booty bump, kid. (Is this payback for those rare evenings in college when I partied a little too hardy?)

Food cravings: Besides every baked good I can get my hands on, my biggest craving is green grapes. I actually googled “how many green grapes are bad for you?” after realizing I had eaten like $12 worth in 2 days. Oops.


Food Aversions: Nothing specific. Still not a major meat eater.

Gender: Baby G is a GIRL.

Labor Signs: GAH. NO.

Pregnancy Symptoms: I think we’re going through a growth spurt this week. First trimester tiredness has returned as well as the difficulty breathing and heartburn.

What I miss: my waistline. I am developing a disorder where I’m SHOCKED at how thin all my friends have gotten lately – then I think perhaps it’s just me getting bigger?


What I am looking forward to: Rocking my 6 month pregnant self at the Jay-Z/Justin Timberlake concert Sunday night. I can’t wait for all the side-eyes. Bring ‘em on.

Upcoming appointments/events: Next appoint is August 30th and it’s an ultrasound to check on the placenta previa and glucose testing for gestational diabetes.

Milestones: VIABILITY! WAHOOO!!!!! For those unfamiliar, 24 weeks marks Viability Day, which means that doctors will use medical intervention and life-saving attempts to save your baby should she arrive early. It also means that from here on out, she has a chance at surviving outside the womb. (But don’t you DARE think about coming anytime soon, baby. I’ll be so mad at you.)


Obligatory Bump Photos: (Apologies for the wonky photos. I clearly wasn’t on the ball this week and was scrambling to get these done as I was already late for work this morning)

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Aaaaand this is how I actually feel. LARGE.

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I’m so punny, aren’t I? *pats self on back*

I have been itching for Sean to finish the construction details in the nursery, so I could move on to the more important things – like decorating. Who needs electricity and closets when you have pink ribbon and flag bunting, anyway?


The blue painters tape really adds a certain “something”, don’t you think?

We’re still waiting on a few furniture pieces, but I’ve been itching to get my Pinterest on in the meantime. On the agenda: framed prints and fabric flag bunting.


Okay, so I couldn’t resist the monogram letters. I have NO idea what to do with them or if I’ll even use them, but I clearly need an intervention.

The nursery doesn’t really have a typical theme, but the fabric we are obsessed with is called “Let’s Pretend” so we kind of went with it. I pulled two quotes from The Velveteen Rabbit and  A.A. Milne and made graphic prints from them. I printed them at Staples for a sweet, sweet $3.96 and scored 2 white 11×14″ frames on sale for $10 each.

I’m obviously biased because, duh, I picked them…but I may shed a tear or two whenever I read the quotes. (click on picture to make bigger)


These will most likely hang above her crib, but since I rearrange the furniture like I change my underwear, I’m waiting until my crazy indecisiveness ends we make a final decision before I put any holes in Sean’s freshly finished walls.

The flag bunting was a new adventure for me and I only had one requirement: NO SEWING. I hate to sew – can’t do it, don’t want to do it, it’s just not going to happen. Luckily, there are approximately 29384203984234 different “no sew flag bunting tutorials” on Google. Trust me, I read them all.

I ended up using a combination of a few different techniques and hopefully my version will help someone else.

DIY Flag Bunting: 

  1. Pick several fabric patterns. I had 7 different colors/patterns, in either 1/2 yard or full yard, depending on the minimum of the fabric shop.
  2. Measure the space you’ll be hanging it from. Our wall is 100″, but I wanted to leave enough room for draping, so I based measurements for my ribbon at 112″.
  3. Determine how big you want the triangles to be and cut out a template on cardboard. Since I’m slightly neurotic (ahem, understatement), I ended up dividing 112″ (total ribbon length) by 7 (different fabric patterns) to realize I would have 16″ of space for each fabric pattern. I wanted slightly bigger flags – so I made each one 5″ across the top, meaning I’d have 3 flags from each of my 7 patterns for 15″ total with an inch of wiggle room to space them out. My little OCD, symmetric heart practically sang with joy when I realized the math worked out so perfectly.image-3
  4. Now that you have your cardboard template, it’s time to start cutting the fabric. I wanted my flags to be double-sided, so I cut them in a diamond pattern so I could just seal them shut. I folded the fabric inside out and started my template tracing right along the fold, leaving me with a diamond/two part triangle when I was finished.
  5. Using this amaaaaazing stuff called “Stitch Witchery”, I was able to iron the triangle flaps together in minutes. Leaving me with a big pile of double-sided triangles ready to hang!


    I’m going to win a photography award for this one. I’m sure of it.

  6. Now came the big, important decisions. What color ribbon would I use? What order should they hang in? GAH. image-6 image-7
  7. Fear not, I went with white ribbon. Now bear with me because I used a suuuuuuper technical system to figure out the layout: I put a bobby pin in the exact middle of the ribbon as a marker. BAM! Minds blown, right? Using the Stitch Witchery, I simply started with a flag in the middle and added one on each side until all the flags were used. image-8

The whole project took me roughly 2 hours and was CHEAP. The cost breakdown is approximately:

7 fabrics – $10 total (maybe $15?)

Stitch Witchery – $2.99

18 ft Ribbon Spool – $2.99

iron, scissors, awesomeness – all mine and previously owned

Seriously. This may have been a really crappy tutorial I just gave you, but I can assure you the actual product is a lot better. For better tutorials, I’d suggest:

I am ITCHING to share all the details of the nursery, but it’ll have to wait a little longer. If you saw the closet at the moment, you’d judge me. Harder than you probably are already. So let’s really build up the suspense, okay?

In the meantime, Little Miss Griffin hit viability today – WAHOO! Can’t wait to do my 24 week update later this week.  We’ve gone far too long without any Real Housewives gifs if you ask me.

or Teresa. I’m sure she agrees.



You’ve got puppy problems? I feel bad for you, son…

Dear Mom and Dad, 

We need to talk. 

I didn’t say anything in the beginning when Mom was napping all the time. Sure – it meant less walks, but it also meant more cuddles on the couch so I was okay with it. Again, I held my tongue when Dad started rubbing your belly instead of mine. Feels good, doesn’t it?

But enough is enough… 

Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? 


You’re getting another dog, aren’t you? And this one is getting is much cooler crate.

I don’t know what special sort of breed this creature is, but I don’t like her already. Honestly, it’s insulting to my intelligence that you think you could hide this from me – especially considering all the stuff you already got her. Even her toys are causing problems. I don’t know what this thing does, but it lives in her room and it doesn’t respond when I bark at it. Rude. Whatever happened to common courtesy? 


So you think you can replace me with a younger model, eh? Well, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m all the puppy you can handle and I’ll be suuuuuuuure to make that clear over the next few months. This little family infiltrator you call, “Charlotte”, will be no match for me. 

And don’t even try to placate me with new dog toys. That may have worked when I was a young pup, but I’m 10 months old now. I’ve been around the block a few times (literally). I know what’s what. 

Take THAT, brand new squeaky duck. 


Just in case I didn’t make myself clear after the duck incident, let our midnight jaunt to the ER Vet be a reminder to you. I didn’t enjoy getting that bone stuck in my mouth any more than you did – but a lesson had to be learned: brand new creatures don’t like to sleep the way I do. She’ll probably whine and cry and need to be let out at 2 am. 


 I hope you appreciate my sacrifice. A $200 emergency vet bill is small peanuts compared to all the obedience school costs I’m sure this new one will need (not everyone is as well-mannered as I).

I know you keep assuring me that I’m going to love my new “little sister” (oh and by the way, dogs don’t even have sisters. You just sound ridiculous), but I’m not convinced. 

So now that all our cards are on the table – I hope you take my concerns seriously. If not, there’s a particularly fluffy stuffed animal that will be my next victim.


(Oh did you think it’s safe because it’s on that dresser? Pffffttttttt. Child’s play.) 


Your loving and loyal companion –

Stanley Winston Griffin