And otherwise titled, the final volume. On the day that Duke turned four months old, I technically hit my pre-baby weight and called it a day. I always used to fluctuate a good five pounds, and full disclosure, I'm at the high end of the fluctuation, but while I'm still nursing, I feel really comfortable right here. All my pre-baby clothes fit and that was the primary driver.

To see where I started, the After Baby Body Volume One which includes pre-baby and immediately after pregnancy, is here.

It took exactly four months to lose 50lbs and in those months, there were some slow losing weeks, and some wicked fast losing weeks and a few weeks that were at a dead stop that had me feeling pretty defeated.

Before I had Duke, when I was really hot, hovering around 170lbs and tersely reminding myself that this whole thing is a GD miracle, I was really afraid I wouldn't lose the weight. I've never tried to lose a substantial amount of weight before + I have a nutritive diet based almost entirely on sugar + no sense of self control. I had the Lord's Prayer on repeat in my mind, especially that bit, you know, about deliver me from my temptations. Please Lord, deliver me from all the Sour Patch Kids and Swedish Fish that you saw fit to put on the grocery shelves.

I really wanted to be one of those people who just exhaled once and somehow lost the weight, but it didn't happen that way. I had to do the thing that we all have to do -- I traded Twizzlers for salad and tried not to cry.

But seriously, I quit the carbs, swapped actual spaghetti for spaghetti squash and walked for an hour every.single.day. Around Thanksgiving, I gave up dairy because it's been fucking with my kid's gastrointestinals and producing the kind of stink that A.) competes with his dad and B.) has me asking God to deliver me from that, too. Anyway, since cheese is a love second only to candy, I think that helped burn through the final pounds. And now, here we are, mostly back in business.

I will say that even though the scale is back into familiar territory, my body is not the same. Everyone's different, but after carrying a child, I don't think I'm ever going to snap right back because I'm pretty sure that my bones moved locations. My hips are wider, my rib cage is wider, and one sip of soda puffs out the pooch in my stomach that serves as a friendly reminder of where I grew little Duke.  I used to have accidental abs -- you know, they were just there. The magic of youth. Those are gone forever now. But I 10000% acknowledge that I exchanged all this for a perfect healthy baby, and I'd do it again a hundred times. Isn't the human body magical? Seriously though.

So, let's  do a list to make things concrete. Here's what worked for me.

• I gave up anything white. White flour, white rice, white bread, white sugar, white pasta. Goodbye. And I mostly gave up their brown counterparts, too. 
• I walked every day. 
• I exclusively breastfeed. Jury's still out on if this helps, but it definitely didn't hurt.
• I wear my baby all the time. Cleaning my house, running errands and going for walks -- I put that 15lb burrito in a carrier and strap him on. 
• I went back to work. Hear me out on this -- it made me busy and gives me less opportunity to think about food. It also makes me happy, which I think is a secret, key ingredient to weight loss. 

***

So that's it - that's the story of how I lost the weight. I had being young-ish on my side (I'm not sure that having your first baby at 28 is considered young, but being 28 is still young in the grand scheme of life, I guess) and I dieted. That's the secret.

So here's the post I've been a little bit afraid to write and definitely nervous to publish, because talking about weight is unpleasant in any case, but talking about it after pregnancy has wrecked your body is bad times a million.

But, when I was pregnant, I used to google these types of blog posts all the time, because I wanted to see what the postpartum journey is like. You hear so many things, like you'll never be the same, or that breastfeeding makes the weight melt off at warp speed (total myth, by the way).  And honestly, I still read about post baby bodies on a few forums that I follow (I used the Sprout app and still do - they have a great postpartum moms section). Anyway, what I know is this: some women lose all the weight in two weeks (but I'm not bitter) and some lose the weight in nine months. Some women never lose the weight. My guess is it depends on a hellish combination of motivation, genetics, and how much you gained in pregnancy.

Here's my facts:

• Pre-pregnancy, I typically weighed in between 115-120lbs, depending on how many kit-kats I ate for dinner. 
• On the day I delivered, I weighed 169lbs. 
• Overall, from January to September, I gained between 50-55lbs.
• Immediately, after delivery, I lost 15lbs. A quick 5lbs followed in the next week. 
• After the first week, it's been more of an effort to get the pounds off. Breastfeeding be damned.
• And for reference, I am 5'7". 

I gained weight everywhere. Just everywhere. I packed on a lot in the first trimester because I was so sick all the time and I always craved brown rice, so I ate a lot of it. It soothed the nausea and I thought it was healthy, so I ate huge servings. Boom, pounds.
My weight rose pretty steadily for the entire nine months, and eventually I just had to come to terms with it. I'm the kind of pregnant girl who just gains weight -- it is what it is. I had to remind myself that it was temporary and eventually my body would be my own again.

So here we are.


It's a pretty slow process. In my old life, I could swap out dinner for a bowl of broccoli a few times a week, kick out the soda, and still have a bowl of ice cream in bed, and somehow still manage to drop 5+ pounds. Now, I'm breastfeeding, so dieting is off the table, and while I don't gain weight, it doesn't just fall off either.

Around 5 weeks postpartum, I started walking everyday for about an hour and limiting white flour and sugar. I just was cleared to work out, so I've been mixing in some squats, sit-ups and wall sits. Slowly, but surely, the scale is going down and things are starting to go back to where they belong. All in all, I'm 32lbs down from my last day of pregnancy, and 18ish lbs from my pre-pregnancy weight. I head back to work in four weeks, and ideally, I'd like to be around 125 by then so I can sort of fit in my old clothes, but we'll see.

So, that's where I'm at, and I'm pretty comfortable with it. I've set myself up with a few short term goals -- sneaking back into the 130's was the first one! Next stop is 135, then 125, and finally 120.  To be honest though, I feel decently good seeing the progress, all while maintaining a great milk supply for Duke which has been my first priority. And if all else fails, my whole array of shoes fit, so you know, be grateful for the small things, right?

See you back for another check in on the postpartum body in a few months. Fingers crossed the progress continues!

Here we are guys -- well, actually, here I am. The end of my pregnancy, so they say, and still pregnant. Here's what I've learned in 9 months:

• Your due date is an estimation, otherwise known as a giant crock of shit. Doctors, weather people and FedEx -- we're all just guessing, okay.
• At the end, you will beg your uterus to feel pain on the off chance that it means labor is beginning. Was that a twinge? Yes please! 
• Not working and not having a baby is effing boring. If I don't have this baby tonight, I might show back up in the office tomorrow. I get a little jealous and teary-eyed every time Ryan makes a sale. Sniff sniff -- I used to do that, too. 

So anyway, we're literally expecting this baby any old time now, and my patience is wearing thin. But I'm trying. This weekend, we kind of decided that it's probably our last weekend OF OUR LIVES, that we're not parents, so we're actively making the most of it. On Friday, we went out for Thai food and requested our curry be 78% spicy, American, not Thai, and my lips were literally on fire. I thought, huh, I guess this is what it feels like to be stung by 100 bees, or get botox in your lips, whatever.

Then we went to see Sully, which was interesting, but not awesome. You know, good movie, I probably won't see it again though. I really like Tom Hanks and Ryan is really into pilots and airplanes, and we both like candy, so it was a pleasant "last" date night. (And for the record, I know it's not our last date night -- but it is the last one for a really long time that doesn't have arranging a babysitter and being home at a certain time in the mix.)

Last night, the first crisp fall breezes came through and it was awesome. I broke out the apple cider scented everything while Ryan cooked in the kitchen. We went to a potluck with a few friends and stood outside all night in hoodies and jeans. It's weird how good that all feels after a humid summer -- feels good every year.

Today, Ryan is salmon fishing with is brother, who he conned into coming up here with the phrase "this is the last weekend that I'm not a dad -- get up here!" And anyway, it worked. And so help me if I have not made that man a dad by next weekend.

A few other things I want to share, because we all like to laugh, right?

• Did you know I used to be an Admissions Counselor? Of course you did -- I don't keep it a secret, but  here's a little peek into why I left the weird sticky world of recruiting halfway adults. Laugh, because it's real. May we all avoid becoming helicopter parents. And also, dig more into the Admissions Problems blog -- it doesn't get updated anymore, but it's still hilarious. And here's another one, because JFC, this is our future. Swag, yolo. 
• You got a small taste of it earlier in this post, but maternity leave is freaking me out. Like most of us, I've had a job since I graduated high school, namely because I like buying things -- electricity, nail polish, the occasional $10 mojito -- you know. But there's also something to be said about the identity you cultivate for yourself as a professional woman -- and when that changes -- if fucks you up. 

"As a professional woman, I’m always doing two things at once...While multi-tasking is a key skill later in motherhood, during maternity leave my multi-tasking abilities became limited to changing a diaper and crying at the same time."

So, things to look forward to, yes?

Alright, now lets talk about this overcooked bay-bay. Featuring my baby daddy:

So, summer is over. Bummer, huh?

Actually, I don't even mind. I hate January thru March because that's the suckiest, most dismal time of year, right? But fall, you know, has its charms. Like cider and pumpkin candles and the birth of a child, please God.

I'm having a little anxiety about that right now, kind of randomly. Pinterest somehow knows my life story even though I have never shared the intimate details personally -- isn't it bizarre how all of your electronic devices suddenly know everything about you. Mine does, and I'm sure yours does too, but my phone will often tell me how far from work or home I am and it freaks me the fuck out. Anyway, Pinterest keeps popping up with a variation of the exact same article: "10 Things You Should Do Before Your Baby is Born". Or perhaps "77 Things I Wish I Knew Before Delivery". And the best, "Everything You're Forgetting".

They're all the same. I'm forgetting to pack chapstick, and I'll need to bring a pillow because hospital pillows suck, and breastfeeding is going to be the fiery pits of hell for the first few weeks-- blah blah blah, but seriously. Give me a heart attack. I was planning to just wing this delivery business, like I show up, the professionals give me some pain relief and tell me what to do, and 20-odd hours later, we'll have a baby. Sounds fair, right?

Basically I got overwhelmed making lists, changing them, rearranging them, and packing seventeen sticks of lip balm before I remembered that pregnancy has made me significantly less tolerant and maybe I can just stick to my original plan because I.Don't.Care about how fluffy the pillows are right now. I'm just going to walk in, ask for the juice, and let someone who's read more books than me guide me in the right direction.

Now for a couple of randoms, because this post is already getting lengthy and I haven't even said anything worthwhile yet:

• George has a brand new party trick: opening the deck gate. He already figured out how to get through the patio door, then this week he started opening the gate, and five minutes later, we're all "where's Georgie?" Gone folks, gone. In the river taking a swim or rolling in poop somewhere (another new party trick!)
• Ryan had  himself a birthday! We went to go see War Dogs and out for Thai food. All the spicy food for me, because obviously. 
• New, fun (!) obstacle here at the Hodges Nursery. Ryan assembled the crib in the garage, which seemed like a good idea because that's where the zoo of tools lives. But then - you know where this is going -- when he and his brother carried it into the house, it totally doesn't fit through the bedroom door, despite enacting every variety of 7th grade geometry that our teachers promised us we'd use when we're adults. 

Alright -- onward to the baby update. I'm combining 38 and 39 weeks because I'm obviously behind and because it's getting too late to catch-up. And because I've had "Full Term" written on my chalkboard since 36.5 weeks and if I don't use it now, I never will.

Well guys, here we are, closing out week 37 and I am formally and officially kickin' full-term. So, as a gal who chronically suffers from lack of patience in general, normal, only slightly exciting things, I am currently exhibiting the kind of patience that children have between the hours of 4 and 5AM on Christmas morning.

Zero.

Let's all join together for a moment of silence for my husband, who has agreed to stay within the general vicinity of home for the next few weeks and is currently living on a prayer. And the sound of my voice, talking pretty constantly about the baby. And stretch marks. And how hungry I am. And how much of a whale I feel like. And how I need to get. This. Baby. Out. Now.

He promised to love me forever and is at least contractually obligated to be with me for the rest of my life, so it is what it is. And anyway, we celebrated that legally binding commitment we made yesterday for our third wedding anniversary. How quickly the years go. The days are long, but the years are short, you know? I look forward to year four, especially with what is undoubtedly going to be one of the happiest moments of our life still in front of us. Isn't that something. When we are old, this time that we are living right now, and the most important moment of our lives coming up so shortly, is going to be such a good thing to reminisce about.

The countdown is on, but for now, here we are at 37 weeks.

First thing - let's address this -- the third trimester is officially the "all bets are off" part of pregnancy. I am weeks behind on this (and maybe just updating a few numbers to say 32 instead of 31 even though I mostly wrote this last week, because what the hell) and maybe I don't even mind.

But I will. I know I will. Once I have this baby and my energy is back to normal, I will mind exponentially, so here we go. I will have my memories.

****

You guys, why are weekends so short? Monday through Friday is exactly 37 days long, and then we get fifteen hour weekends. I'm not making that up -- that's fact. I decided to make some cookies for breakfast, and when I looked up from the mixing bowl, it was four in the afternoon.

You guys, Friday nights are the hardest for me to give up on. I will keep myself awake for as long as I can, because you know, once you go to sleep, it's over Fifty First Dates style. And Friday is the best best best part of the weekend. Everything is still alive -- the weekend is still in front of you, there's all kinds of promise lingering there -- it's as good as Saturday night, but with the promise that Saturday is still coming.

Last night was extra hard for me to call it a day, because -- obviously. Fridays before 3-day weekends are even better than regular Fridays -- is there a song about this? If I were a different kind of person, I might write a poem, an ode rather, to the mystical 3-day weekend. Anyway, three-quarters of Ryan's sibs showed up last night and with a bonfire and a beach and some ice cream, it's no accident that I didn't drag my drunk husband to bed until 2am.

Friday kicked the weekend nicely:





With every single fiber of my being, I know that this is true: this is what life is about. There's a lot of menial things we do in the meantime, but there is nothing more important than spending time and cultivating our families. That sounds a little cult-y, like building your family to power pack the kingdom of Heaven, like on Big Love, but whatever. I'm not even attempting to buy a one-way ticket into everlasting life, just a happy one right now. And so, bring on the dogs, the kids, the grandmas, the drinks, the tunes we don't agree on and throw in a bonfire and s'mores for good measure. There's your one-way ticket -- it's stamped and you're good to go on the happy train.

How far along? 29 weeks -- in this update. I'm behind, but you know, whatever.
Total weight gain: A lot.  I saw this random rant on the internet about how women who use contouring makeup look like clowns and spend too much time in the mirror, and I just thought, "that chick has never been knocked up." Girl, we need contouring, just to prove we still have cheek bones. Cheers to bronzing powder -- I'm about five minutes from contouring my arms, calves and if I could reach 'em, feet. Just to remind myself what bone structure looks like. 
Maternity clothes? Well yeah, but that orange dress, so not maternity and I'm really pushing my limits with that one. 
Stretch marks? Nope. I'm so surprised. I know that these kinds of things are genetic and my sisters have stretch marks, so I've just been waiting for them. Obviously I'm not out of the woods yet, but I can't believe I haven't seen a stray one here or there. 
Sleep: Like a rock. Seriously, I'm just out all the time, wherever there's a slightly comfortable spot. If it rained and I put a movie on a loop, I bet I could sleep all day long, and then crash out at night too.
Best moment this week: Having Ry's family here for the holiday is just the best. 
Miss Anything? Well, let me preface really quickly with this: if there is a next baby, he'll be born in the winter because I am DONE with leg shaving. I'm officially shaving my legs via muscle memory, which is super dangerous, and what I'm missing right now is the ability to see and reach anything south of my navel. 
Movement: Tons, all the time. And here's a new one, sometimes when he kicks, I can feel a little foot -- or something, I guess. Tiny little appendages. 
Food cravings: I don't think I really crave anything, but I did pass my glucose test this week, so candy is back on the menu. 
Anything making you queasy or sick: Speaking of the glucose test, I was crazy nauseated the morning of, and already just feeling ready to blow (yum!) when I got into the office. So they give you this orange drink that the internet preaches is disgusting because it's flat and crazy sugary -- blah blah blah. So anyway, the nurse hands it to me, tells me to chug it down, and she presents it like this: "If you puke it up, you'll have to drink it again." Luckily, sweet is my jam and it tasted pretty much okay to me, so everything stayed in place. 
Labor Signs: Nah. 
Symptoms: Charley horses that better count as a work out, because these muscles are SORE. I had one in my clutch foot a couple of days ago, and for a full day, my entire leg wobbled when I pushed the clutch in. Yikes.
Belly Button in or out? Out. It's obscene, I think. I mean, we all know that if you see nipples through a shirt, you're bordering on soft-core, but I'm not sure if belly buttons are somehow exempt. I might put a bandaid on it.
Wedding rings on or off? So off.
Happy or Moody most of the time: I'm not really an emotional basket case, but I'm still really prone to easy irritation. Maybe this is who I was meant to be my whole life, and pregnancy just wore off the Emily Post my mom tried to instill. We'll never know.
Looking forward to: The countdown. I mentioned to Ryan last night that I'll be full term in less than seven weeks. The conversation went a little like this:

Me: Ry -- our baby could be here in seven weeks. Seven! (add some creative nagging about finishing the trim in the baby's room)
Ryan: Seven? Are you sure? That's really soon.....shit. This is real. It felt like just an idea until right now. Seven weeks? I need to go on a motorcycle trip.

***

Happy Friday 2.0, you guys!

Yesterday, I read this article about women, and the individual comprehension of knowing when it was the right time to have a baby. I thought it was so interesting, because women all have different stories that ultimately end the same way: in motherhood. And of all the various desires that led to bearing a child, I found myself falling into one category -- I didn't know it was the right time, but I didn't necessarily think it wasn't the right time. So, it just sort of happened.

Anyway, the article got me thinking about how much I've really only been considering how much being a parent is going to change me. And I had this epiphany -- Ryan's life is going to change so much more than mine will. And I don't know why I hadn't considered that, like, at all. I mean, being a mother will change me, but ultimately after 12-ish weeks, I will go back to my 9-5 life. I'll go to work in the morning, and come home in the afternoon, and in the remaining hours of the day, I'll be a mom. So I probably won't Candy Crush it so much while watching Jimmy Fallon and lazily eating dinner on the couch. Trust me, I recognize that I'm oversimplifying dramatically, but my point is that for eight hours a day, and a large majority of the time that I am awake, I will return to exactly what I'm doing now: an office with adults and no babies. 

Ryan, on the other hand, is about to be a dad for every minute of those eight hours + the entire rest of the day. And I have not, for one single second, considered how much more things will change about his day. How many more diapers he will change, bottles he will warm up, and cars he will test drive with a baby in the backseat. 

I sometimes wonder if I'm going to have mom-guilt driven by a desire to have a career and an equal desire to be a rockstar mom. I wonder if I'll be jealous and resent the time that Ryan will get to spend with the baby. I wonder if it'll all be fine and our life will fall into a new balance and everything will just work out. Working mom friends -- any advice? I'm talking to you KJ and Stephy.

I don't have a conclusion to this wonder, because obviously at this point it's all hypothetical, but I know that everything can and often does become habituated. 

Alright, now let's rein it back in, because obviously I like to to think about me. 




How far along? 27 Weeks
Total weight gain: Last time I measured, I was hovering right around 30lbs, give or take ice cream for dinner the night before. 
Maternity clothes? All day, every day. You know what nobody tells you? You'll outgrow your underwear. I mean, obviously, but does anyone tell you that? I knew I'd have to buy maternity jeans, and shirts and all the other whatnot, but underwear? Yeah, that's not in any of the books. 
Stretch marks? Miraculously, no. I'm really focused on staying crazy hydrated and smearing that coconut oil on my skin, and I don't know if it's actually working or just the placebo effect, but I'm rolling with it. 
Sleep: Just give me more of it.
Best moment this week: I discovered that I can hear the baby's heartbeat with a stethoscope, and it is stupid how happy it makes me to hear that thump-thump every night. 
Miss Anything? I officially sound like an alcoholic for bringing it up three weeks in a row, but I could seriously go for a patio + a drink. 
Movement: I think things are getting tight in there, because I feel a lot more kicks and swishes than usual. I think I can even feel when he just turns over. And his kicks are getting strong, like he can take my breath away. 
Food cravings: None really. I eat like normal and don't really crave anything specifically. I have noticed though, that I can't eat very much without feeling really full and like my intestines are in my lungs, which is a feeling the opposite of delightful. A couple of days ago, I was in a meeting after eating a quick breakfast -- I was literally like, laying in my chair trying to breathe.  
Anything making you queasy or sick: Yes, my life. In all seriousness, I've had a return of nausea lately. It's sporadic and short lived, but 100% unwelcome. 
Labor Signs: No signs, but I am thinking forward to the actual labor a little more. I'm not afraid of it, which makes me think I'm either ill-prepared or stupid. Or both. Not sure. I'm just going to wing it, I guess. 
Symptoms: Tailbone pain that accounts for 75% of my suffering. Actually, I'm not complaining -- I feel very comfortable in this pregnancy, and a sore tailbone is the worst of it. Obviously in the grand scheme of things, it's not even that bad.
Belly Button in or out? You guys, it's out. You can see my belly button poking through my shirt, which is sort of weird. Like, is this inappropriate?
Wedding rings on or off? Still on most of the time, but off on humid days.
Happy or Moody most of the time: I'm a moody old cow.
Looking forward to: Kickstarting the third trimester because the countdown is ON. 

***
And a few things we're enjoying, because I swear we do things other than obsess about our fetus. And by we, I mean I, because Ryan is normal and doesn't obsess.

We brought Georgie to Northport today and introduced him to water. And of course, he went bananas. 
Vodka Cranberry. Just kidding. Cranberry Sprite -- so invigorating. 

So Memorial Day -- how 'bout it. 

I don't know about you, but I always get these high hopes about long weekends. Like they're going to be so relaxing and last forever and I won't need to make a last minute trip to the grocery store even once. 

But, you know, yeah right. Long weekends are always power-packed with fun and I'm always missing something in the fridge, so all the stuff about not going anywhere that isn't the beach or out for ice cream goes right out the window. I need a day off from my weekend to catch up on sleep. It was a crazy full weekend. 

A quick rundown? Sure. 
My sister-in-law ran a full marathon and managed to look like a normal human being at the end of it. I showed up for the moment of glory at the end.
My delight of a grandmother told me my face is getting fat because I "eat all day." 
Someone, ahem, fed my dogs people food all day long on Saturday and we cleaned up approximately 73242 puke spots on my floor. 
We West Bay'd it like tourists and ate Moomers ice cream like, three times. 
Ryan and I congratulated ourselves again on picking the best house ever. Also, we played in the river and my dogs went bananas. 
Shaq Attaq arrived in my living room and I tried not to hyperventilate. 







Now, along to the baby stuff --






How far along? 25 weeks.
Total weight gain: I've been pretty stagnant for a few weeks. 
Maternity clothes? Well duh -- there's no going backwards now. 
Stretch marks? None yet -- fingers remained crossed!
Sleep: I know every pregnancy is different, so I'm just going to be really grateful and acknowledge that my sleep has been pretty normal the entire time. I have weird dreams every once in a while, but otherwise, it's business as usual. 
Best moment this week: Hands down, one of the best moments of pregnancy -- on some weeknight -- I can't remember which, Ryan and I were being boring and laying on the couch watching Jimmy Fallon. I can feel the baby moving and shaking reasonably often, but this time, I told Ryan to look at a specific spot on my belly because the tap dance was on. And for the first time, our baby cooperated, kicked the bejesus out of my belly button and scared the shit out of his dad for the first time ever. And he kept going because Ryan was able to feel the kicks for the first time, too. 
Miss Anything? Oh man, Memorial Day weekend brought the patio drinking vibes. I really don't miss a drink here and there as much as I thought I might, but now that we're getting into the summer, there's just something really nice about a cocktail + a deck. Something that orange juice and sprite will not ever adequately substitute.
Movement: This is definitely his most active week yet. I feel him turning and kicking all the time, and see it fairly often, too!
Food cravings: Oh the normal stuff -- protein and too much sugar. Hail the ice cream shops that opened for business this weekend!
Anything making you queasy or sick: Nope. 
Labor Signs: Full belly braxton hicks. Still not uncomfortable, just startling. 
Symptoms: I keep dreaming about giving birth to a puppy. Like, in my dream, I'm cuddling something that I know is my infant, and it's all wrapped up in a sweet baby blanket, but it has a puppy face. Also, there's weird details that randomly go along with it that probably are anxiety related. Like, I'll leave the baby on the floor or forget to feed it or completely forget what I named it. Which I think are obviously related to unknown territory in being a mom and caring for child, with the bonus of "will we ever choose a name?!"
Belly Button in or out? Flat, mostly. 
Wedding rings on or off? This weekend they were off, but that's because my fingers are swelling anyway and the humidity was insane train, which puffed me out to sausage level proportions. 
Happy or Moody most of the time: Okay, I'm irritable. Like, really irritable. 
Looking forward to: Summertime and all the popsicles. 

And onto counting down to the 4th of July. It's going to be such a long, never ending and totally relaxing long weekend.