Eggplant Pizza

Today is Day 8 of my clean eating challenge. I am down 3.6lbs, I can go 30 minutes on my exercise bike at resistance number 3, I am lifting 10lb weights, and I still want to eat everything in sight.

Seriously. I am so freaking hungry like 75% of the time. Not for anything good though, so I guess its not hunger, just cravings. I want pasta, and bread, and anything with gluten and carbs and sugar. But I am standing strong as of now.

We have been pretty busy for the past few days. I took the girls shopping for summer clothes, we did a work out at the park one morning, we did the grocery shopping, etc. etc. This weekend was extra fun because Wonderful Husband got to come home and we took the girls to a spring carnival at the school they will be attending when they are older.

The school is very small, only about 10 rooms total. Their cafeteria is also their gymnasium and auditorium. It was nice to see where the girls will go and meet some of the people and teachers they will be around. We didn’t stay long but Little Darling won some tokens for prizes and got a lollipop. She was happy. Afterwards we ran a few errands and came home so the kids could nap.

Sunday was an awesome day! We went to church in the morning, and then in the afternoon- My dad and I got matching tattoos!

The tattoo parlor that we always go to was having a fundraiser for a local music program called Popshop, they were doing walk in tattoos and the proceeds went to the program. They had about 25 different designs to choose from, all music themed. We went down, there wasn’t any wait, and we got a music note with a heart. It was so fun! Afterwards, we let the girls nap at his house and then we went to the Chinese buffet where I got to try sushi. I actually liked it (despite being terrified of it for years) and ate 4 pieces!

Today we had some catching up to do since we were away most of the weekend. I still had to get the car inspected since we had transferred the registration to West Virginia, we had laundry and dishes and general tidying. Not to mention, there was a smoke alarm in the living room that has been chirping since Friday night.

Took the car in first thing, only took about 30 minutes and $15 for an inspection- score! We came home and pulled in the garage, as I was getting the girls out of the car I noticed it. The BIGGEST spider I have ever seen. Literally, the size of my palm. Perched on the wall by my car door. You can imagine the scene I caused. When I went back later to try and capture and relocate, he ran away. Another sweaty scene of me screaming like a small child. Now it’s somewhere in the garage, hiding, waiting for its revenge I’m sure. And probably breeding. Yuck.

After the spider incident, it was time for the smoke alarm. I got the ladder out, carried it upstairs, set it up, climbed 12 ft in the air (the only time I have hated our vaulted ceilings) and popped the battery out. Climbed down, folded up the ladder, and heard a chirp. What.

After an investigation, I realized it was actually the carbon monoxide detector that was chirping. You know, the one the is plugged into the wall, a foot off the ground. So I climbed back up the ladder, plugged the battery back in the smoke alarm, took the ladder down, carried it to the basement, put it away, and came back upstairs.

Chirp.

You’ve got to be kidding. Both batteries were going in both devices and I hadn’t noticed. Repeat ladder getting, battery popping, cursing. Hopefully the great room doesn’t catch on fire or fill up with poison gas, because we won’t know.

By that time I was exhausted and didn’t even want to think about dinner. Little Darling was begging for pizza all day, so I decided to indulge her. I made eggplant pizzas. They weren’t too bad, pretty similar to zucchini pizzas. Definitely not the same as gooey, delicious, bad-for-you pizza, but pretty ok. And even more than ok when you are on a calorie restricted, clean diet and are craving something cheesy and delicious.

I sliced my eggplant pretty early this morning, around 10am and let it sit, salted, on paper towels all day to try and combat the mushiness I often get when I make zucchini pizzas.

Enjoy!

Eggplant Pizza

1 Eggplant
Pizza Sauce
Mozzarella
Cheddar

  1. Slice your eggplant into 1/2in slices, sprinkle with salt and set on a paper towel for at least 20 minutes. Blot with paper towels to remove excess water.
  2. Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and spray with oil, lay your eggplant in a single layer and spray the tops with oil.
  3. Bake 20 minutes.
  4. Spoon sauce onto the tops of the eggplant and top with Mozzarella and cheddar (we also did a few with pepperoni)
  5. Bake another 10-15 minutes until cheese is melty.

Enjoy! If I did my calorie counting correctly, you get 4 slices for about 250 calories. I am hoping I can stay strong this week and keep on track with my diet. The work outs are getting much easier, and I don’t dread them as much. The cravings are intense at times, but mostly manageable. Wish me luck!

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Stepford Gets Fit

I love sugar. And pasta. And basically any type of carb. I could easily live on bread and cheese for the rest of my life. I never get tired of it.

Nowadays though, I do get fat from it.

I remember when I was young and Mom used to tell me to enjoy my ability to eat anything because one day my metabolism would turn on me. I always just laughed her off, me and my metabolism were good friends, it would never turn on me and let me get fat. Ha. Ha. Ha.

Then I had children, and turned 25, and the whole world turned on its head. When I ate junk food I felt like crap and looked like crap. When I spent three days eating my way through a crock pot full of mac and cheese I was puffy and felt slightly nauseous. After a weekend of binge drinking every cocktail available at our local bar I was hung over, fluffy, and didn’t want to do it again.

I spent a lot of time complaining about how fat I had gotten. I had gained 40lbs since college. My thighs rub together, my belly hangs over my pants, and I get chapped butt cheeks if I walk too much. This is not ok.

Recently, after another bout of complaining, a good friend of mine basically told me either put up or shut up. Here I was complaining about how fat I am while I drink another glass of wine and regularly fall off the clean eating wagon for things like Easter candy, ice cream, and gallons of maple mustard. Perhaps, if I wanted my body to change, I should try changing something.

I tried several excuses, none of which worked, and finally agreed to start working out and eating healthy again with her. She is getting in shape for her wedding next year and has always been incredibly motivated to be healthy, so she is a pretty good coach to hold me accountable.

I downloaded MyFitnessPal onto my phone to track calorie intake, I wiped down the exercise bike and shifted the weights around so the lighter ones were on top. I did a grocery trip for only healthy, clean foods. I was ready!

We started yesterday. I forgot I was supposed to be back on track and splashed about 5 tbsp of creamer into my coffee. I ate two babybels and a wedge of cheddar with lunch, and by 2pm I only had 300 calories left for dinner. Whoops.

I did do my workout during nap time- I ran back and forth on the driveway for half a mile, rode the exercise bike for 15 minutes, lifted a few weights, and broke a full sweat that made me feel nauseous. But I had some calories back in the bank for dinner and snack.

For dinner I had a veggie burger, scrambled egg, green peppers, and some grapes. by 8pm I was so hungry I thought I might die. I checked my app and saw I had 121 calories left for the day. I made an egg white, chopped up cucumbers and green peppers, added 4 olives, and a drizzle of mustard- 100 calories. Score.

Right as I was finishing, Wonderful Husband came home and brought me half a Quesarito from Sheetz. God. Help. Me. I managed to only take 3 bites and wrap it back up and put it in the fridge. I cannot cheat on day one. For real.

All night I tossed and turned. My head was hurting, I was starving to death, I wanted something sweet. At 4am, while feeding Little Littles I broke down and had a spoonful of peanut butter and a swig of milk. Not entirely a fail in my book because most nights I binge eat pop tarts, candy, juice, cookies, and basically anything other junk I can get my hands on because I am half asleep and have no will power.

When I woke up at 6:30am, I had a pounding headache. I had my black coffee, which actually wasn’t too bad, and hoped I could ditch the headache by pounding down some water. No, then I had a headache and had to pee every 5 minutes. The headache persisted ALL morning. I finally made the kids go for nap at noon and collapsed in bed, realizing that I was dealing with withdrawal symptoms from my shit lifestyle. My body wanted sugar, and alcohol, and carbs. Sorry body. I want my flat stomach back. I slept for about an hour thinking it may help. It didn’t. I put some warm water in the bath tub with epsom salts and lavender oil and sat in it (this is apparently a detox bath according to pinterest and will help ease withdrawal symptoms). I felt like crap and now the kids were waking up.

I knew I had to get a work out in even though I felt like I was dying, so I decided it would be better to do it while the kids were awake so I could die in peace after they went to bed. I took everybody downstairs to the home gym and braced myself for my work out.

It actually wasn’t that bad. I rode the bike for 20 minutes, lifted a few weights, did 7 minutes of HIIT cardio, and made sure I was working hard enough that I was sweating the entire time. The kids played happily on the floor. My headache actually started clearing up. I showered off and was feeling much better! Who would have thought a work out would help my headache!

For dinner I made refried bean taco salads. Delicious! and I got a HUGE one for only 400 calories!

It may only be day two, but I feel pretty motivated this time to stick with it for a while. It’s easier to work out when I know my friend is also doing it, easier to eat healthy when she is my support system when I text and say I wanna eat the entire Quesarito immediately, and much easier to do anything when you had a buddy in it with you.

So this is the start of my get fit journey, hopefully something comes of it, and hopefully you enjoy my refried bean salad recipe!

Refried Bean Taco Salad

1 Can refried beans
1 tbsp olive oil
1 Bell Pepper
1 Tomato
1/2 Onion
1 Can Corn
3 Cups Iceberg Lettuce
1 Cup Spinach
1 oz Mozzarella cheese

  1. Heat the refried beans in a small skillet or pan on low heat.
  2. Chop the peppers, onions, and tomato and put them in a medium skillet with the olive oil over medium heat. Saute until the onions are clear and the veggies are tender. Move to low heat, add the corn, and cover for about 5 minutes or until the corn is warmed through.
  3. Chop the spinach and lettuce and put them in your bowl. Top with 1/2 cup refried beans, 1 cup veggie mix, and 1 oz Mozzarella cheese.
  4. Devour like a starving African orphan

Enjoy!

 

Stepford and the Cardinal

There is a saying that goes something like- a cardinal in your yard is a visitor from heaven.

I know, it doesn’t rhyme, and it doesn’t even sound like much. But I had heard it a few times over the years and it was flitting around somewhere in the back of my mind. Which is probably why I started noticing cardinals after my Grandma passed away.

It started last summer. One day when I was struggling with my life decisions of giving up my home, moving to a new state, being 7 months pregnant with my second daughter, and just not real sure what my future held, I was standing at my kitchen sink and saw a cardinal swoop out of nowhere and land on the back of my porch chair. It looked straight in my window and tilted it’s head at me.

And the very first thought that went through my mind was “oh there you are”

Without any provocation at all, that was the first thing I thought. Immediately followed by- your grandmother is not a bird. Followed pretty closely by- but she loved birds and fed them and watched them from the back porch, so maybe she is.

I didn’t think too much of it, until we moved into our trailer in West Virginia and one night when I was taking out the garbage, out of nowhere, a cardinal swooped down and landed in the gravel parking lot, tilting its head at me. I nodded in acknowledgment and went about my business, not wanting to make a fuss. But, in the back of my mind I couldn’t help but wonder…

I didn’t see any cardinals the rest of the winter, not during my stay with my in laws, and not when I was spending my evenings wondering where exactly my life was taking me.

But, the week before we closed on our house, when it seemed all hell was breaking loose- the seller was out of the state and couldn’t be reached, the tenants occupying the property had trashed the place, our mortgage company had forgotten a set of disclosures and needed three more days to review them, we didn’t think we were going to make our closing date. I was hearing from almost everyone I saw- Do you think you’re making the right decision? Do you feel like maybe this is a sign you aren’t supposed to buy this house? Maybe God is trying to tell you something.

One night, when I was staying with my dad for the weekend, I stood at his kitchen window staring out into the evening light wondering if we were doing the right thing and if everyone would be disappointed if we followed through buying a house they all so obviously didn’t approve of. My cardinal dropped down and landed on his grill cover, tilting it’s head at me. I smiled and thought “oh there you are”.

Stepford goes to Church

For about the last, oh I don’t know, maybe 5 years, Wonderful Husband and I have been saying we are going to find a church.

While we both had very different experiences growing up in the church, his being loving and stable and picturesque, mine being weird and rocky and ending when I was around 10, we both agreed that we didn’t want to let God disappear from our lives.

He was raised a Lutheran. I was raised a, well, I’m not real sure, we traveled a lot and went to many different churches. Some danced in the aisles and spoke in tongues. Some didn’t even approve of clapping during music. We never really found anywhere that we fit and finally stopped going in the mid 2000’s. So when it came time to pick a church, we could never really decide on what we wanted to be.

I was confused by lutheran-ism (is that a word? I’m not even sure that’s a word), they had their own book they taught from and the pastor wore weird clothes and they didn’t even want to let my dad give me away at my wedding (I won that argument, in case you were wondering). I wanted a fun church where we could be free to express our love of God, but I needed some structure because I had basically forgotten everything except basic bible stories. After a few debates about it, and realizing that in a ghetto crack town there are two options of churches- stuffy white people or crazy black people- we sort of let it slide.

When Little Darling came along I was determined that we would find a church. I called on a few local pastors. I drove past a few churches. I was reminded, again, that if we wanted anything with substance (not substance abuse) we would need to travel a ways. And at that point Wonderful Husband was traveling all the time, and the thought of entering a new place alone with a baby gave me anxiety, let alone keeping said baby quiet for an hour during a sermon. Nope. Couldn’t do it.

So, last year, I came to the decision that as soon as we were set up in West Virginia, we WOULD find a church. And we would attend said church. Regularly. We may even go to bible school. We needed a church family and a support system since we would be so far away from our own families. I didn’t care if we had to become Catholics, my kids would know God and bible stories, and have some friends who knew about such things too.

Then we moved to West Virginia and I got scared all over again and every Sunday would squeak by and I would make excuses. Wonderful Husband is away. Wonderful Husband is home, but has been away and we should enjoy our time. We shouldn’t pick a church until we know where we will be living permanently. We don’t even know the service times. We may not pick a good one. I don’t wanna go.

Last week, in the middle of the day, a little blue car pulled up my driveway and out popped a ridiculously cheerful lady. She introduced herself and explained that she, her mother, and her sister are all our neighbors! They had seen we were new to the area and wanted to introduce themselves, they brought me a little gift of homemade apple butter and a magnet from their church. They attend a Methodist church that is 3 miles down the road. She didn’t make a big fuss about it, just let me know that the service times were on the magnet and they’d love to have us.

Now, there are plenty of things in my life that I can’t take a hint about. When I ask if I should eat that last donut and my love handles jiggle back “for the love of God, please stop eating”, you better believe, I am gonna eat that donut. When I am pleasantly polluted and feeling fine and think- should I have another glass of wine before bed? I am gonna have another glass, even as WH is reminding me what happened last time I had one too many.

However, something about this random stranger dropping in to meet me, say hello, squeeze my babies cheeks, and drop a line about a church, rang with me. As if God was like “hey Bitch, get your ass to church and quit putting it off” (ok, maybe not in those words, but probably close because it has been YEARS of me saying I was going to go and then not doing it). So I stuck the magnet on the fridge, and kept the thought in the back of my head that if Wonderful Husband was home next Sunday, we just may take a trip down the road.

What do ya know. Wonderful Husband got today off. So I woke up early, made pancakes, and declared that we would be attending church this morning.

Service started at 11am, and at 10:42 we were sitting in the parking lot coming up with a game plan on how to escape if it all went to hell. The church looked ok on the outside, a small, old building with stained glass windows and a steeple. There were, however, two old men standing in the parking lot glaring at us.

We tentatively got out and started to walk up to the front door, one of the grumpy old men stopped us and said we could go in the basement, there were cookies and coffee. We politely declined and headed to the steps when an old lady slammed the door open with a boisterous “HELLO! Come on in! We have SNACKS!!” and we found ourselves being herded into a small, stuffy basement with about 15 old women who were about to pee themselves with excitement.

The conversations were hectic and overwhelming. They all pushed in at us clamoring about how great it was to have new comers, could they get us some coffee, can Little Darling have a cookie, how old is Little Littles, Oh They just LOVE Children.

We made our way to the back and collapsed into folding chairs. A lady brought Wonderful Husband a coffee, another lady brought Little Darling a baggie of goldfish, there was a little boy running around and Little Darling ditched the goldfish to make a new friend. They hurriedly explained that it’s not normally so calm and laid back, however, they always give their pastor the 5th Sunday of the month off, so he and his family were away and they were just going to do a short and easy service (in all honesty I do not believe there was going to be any service until we showed up). At 11am, we all herded upstairs to the tiny sanctuary with pews going in every direction to make them all fit in. With a congregation totaling no more than 25 and only 3 of those being men (including WH) We sang hymns, we took prayer requests, a lady from the congregation gave a short sermon, they laid hands on an older lady who was having health issues, we sang a closing song, we were done.

At every break in the service, after a song, after a prayer, at least one person in the congregation would turn around and tell us how happy they were to see us. The neighbors who had stopped down were over joyed, gave me their phone numbers, and told me I could call them if I ever needed anything. They exclaimed that they hoped they hadn’t scared us off being it was so laid back and informal. We were recognized from the pulpit that it was so great to have newcomers and they just loved having children in the congregation. We were invited to VBS in June, and bible school every Sunday at 9:30am, and reminded that on normal Sundays when Pastor is there they do a children’s message.

We got out to the car and breathed a sigh of relief. We did it. We survived. And not only was it not painful, it was enjoyable! The entire time we were there, I felt at home. I didn’t feel like anyone was judging me, I didn’t feel like I was a stranger in someone else’s church. I felt comfortable, like I had just spent an hour with 15 of my closest grandmas.

I have already decided that we will go again. I’d like to see what it’s like when the pastor is there and does a sermon. I may even like to see what bible school is all about. I don’t feel any anxiety about returning if Wonderful Husband is away working.

I feel like we are on to something, even if we go a few times and decide this isn’t the place for us. We have passed that hurtle of making ourselves go and putting ourselves out there. We are on back on the path, and it feels good.

Stepford and the binky weaning

I hate binkies.

binky, paci, dummy, nuk, pacifier, mute button, silencer.

Call it whatever you want.

I hate it. Loathe it. Despise its creation. I mean, who decides that the best thing for a tiny infant, incapable of holding up their own head or moving their own bodies, should have a tiny rubber instrument that is easily lose-able, choke-able, dirty-able. It sucks.

And to make it even worse, there are 700,000 different brands of these dumb things. And each one is different and let me tell you: that baby can tell the difference. You give her the Nuk brand, and she only uses the Maam brand- you are gonna hear about it.

So I had already made a pact with myself before ever having children that none of mine would ever have the bink.

And with Little Darling that was pretty simple. She wasn’t into the binky, didn’t care about it, spit it out pretty regularly. I can count on one hand the amount of times she had one, and on two fingers the amount of times it actually helped the situation. She found her thumb at 2 months old and we never looked back.

Then we had Little Littles. Who thinks that sleep is a myth. She certainly doesn’t believe in partaking in it, and thinks no one else should either. Within about three weeks of having her I was seriously debating duct taping the binkie into her mouth. It was the only time, and I mean THE ONLY TIME that she stopped crying. Ever.

She slept about 40 minutes at a clip and only then when she had the binkie tucked happily in her little mouth.

While we didn’t experience any type of nipple confusion or nursing issues. I was full of issues with it. I couldn’t stop reading articles about how pacifiers can lead to ear infections and speech impediments. Bad teeth, tongue issues, speech delays. The problems were endless. I had nightmares of her dislodging the rubber from the end and choking. I had nightmares of losing it in the supermarket. One time she really did spit it out onto the floor of a public bathroom.

She would only take the generic target brand, of which there were only two styles, and could only be found at certain locations.

By the time she was 4 months old, she was waking up every hour or two at night because the binkie had fallen out. I would wake up, hearing her cry, shuffle to the bedroom, tuck the binkie back in, shuffle back to bed, and do it all over again a couple hours later. It was miserable.

For the next three months, I debated what to do. Should I take it? Should I deal with it? I have friends with 3 year olds still sucking on their binkies and they didn’t seem to have a problem with it. I didn’t want to make her miserable and scar her for life by taking the only thing that gave her comfort, but was it really comforting her by robbing her (and me) of sleep?

Last week she turned 7 months old, and I did the unthinkable.

I took the binkie.

At second nap, I carried her into her room, placed the binkie on the dresser and told her very firmly- this is over, you can’t have your binkie anymore. Its making me and you both very tired and you need to learn to sleep without it- I laid her down in the crib, went through the rest of her routine (sound machine, beany puppy, fleecy blanket), and walked out.

She didn’t give a flying flip that I had taken the binkie. She rolled over and went to sleep.

I was shocked. I jut kept staring at the monitor waiting for her to wake up and scream acknowledging that her favorite thing in the whole wide world was gone.

Nope.

She didn’t care at 3rd nap either. And at bed time she made a minor fuss for about 10 minutes before drifting peacefully into sleep. She woke up 3 times during the night, about the same amount of times she wakes up normally to be fed at night. But there were no intermittent binkie-fall-out cries.

Day 2 was pretty similar, except at night she woke up at around 10:30 very adamant that she needed her binkie and stayed adamant for about 3 hours straight. However, Wonderful Husband was away, and Little Darling can apparently sleep through the apocalypse, so I remained adamant that she DID NOT need her binkie.

Day 3 she cried at every nap and at bed time. For extensive periods. I almost gave in, but then remembered that she hasn’t even been alive for a whole year. I am mama. I make the rules.

Day 4 she whined quietly for a few minutes at bed time and then went to sleep.

We are now about 12 days in and she seems to be adjusting just fine.

Bedtime is definitely easier, night time is somewhat easier, and I no longer have to worry about carrying/cleaning/finding/purchasing the dumb binkie.

She still wakes at least twice a night, sometimes three times to eat. I have been slowly making those bottles smaller and smaller in hopes that by 9 months I can have her weaned from eating at night completely. We shall see how that goes.

So that is my story of weaning Little Littles from the binkie, and how easy it was for us. If you are considering it, or have been wanting to take it for a while, just pull the band aid, do it fast, and be done! You’ll thank yourself later!

Stepford reads and makes fish

 

This post is so hard I can’t even come up with a title yet.

It’s weird when you have a bunch of thoughts rolling around in your head, but not enough coherent ones to put them together into sentences or stories or explanations.

I can’t even get a summary of how I am feeling right now.

I just finished the book A Man Called Ove, which is definitely making it into my top 10 all time favorite books list. It has some of the best writing I have ever read and definitely kept me turning pages.

Basic story line is this: Ove is a grumpy old man living in Sweden who no one particularly likes or doesn’t like. He is making some major life decisions when a young couple move in next door and all hell breaks loose. In a good way.

This book is so good, I can’t say enough good things about it. However, it really got to me though. It reminded me of someone I know, and my heart breaks for them. I wish I could go into more detail about it. But like I said, I don’t even have a coherent thought on it, just a lot of emotions.

All I can say is, next time you see a grumpy old man in the grocery story or the parking lot, try to think about his past life, and what he has seen and done and dealt with before you come to any conclusions about his attitude. It’s like they say- everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind.

So that’s enough about that. It’s a good book. Get it. Read it.

Lets talk about fish!

Tonight for dinner, I decided that even though Wonderful Husband was still away, I was going to make flounder for dinner. I knew the kids wouldn’t appreciate it, but I was in the mood for something light and delicious.

We normally eat a Tilapia, but I read an article a while back about how its actually really bad for you, so last time I was at Sam’s Club I bought a big pack of frozen Flounder instead. I am sure you could substitute whatever fish you have on hand.

Honey Garlic Flounder

3 Flounder fillets
Salt
4 cloves minced Garlic
1/4 cup Honey
3 Tbsp Apple Cider

  1. Preheat oven to 425. Lay fillets in a greased baking pan (I used a glass Pyrex) and sprinkle with salt.
  2. Mix together remaining ingredients in a small bowl and pour over fillets.
  3. Bake 15-20 minutes until fish flakes with a fork and is no longer clear.

I served ours with roasted broccoli and rice. Little Darling ate her broccoli and her rice, told me the fish was good but ate maybe three forkfuls in total. Little Littles ate every bit I gave to her. I thought it was delicious.

So there you have it, a good book, and a good recipe. All in one! Enjoy! And be sure to let me know what you think of both!

 

 

The GhostBed

Nope, I am not gonna be telling ghost stories in this post. Although, I do have some good’uns I could share. No, this post is to pay homage to my brand new, amazing, and economically responsible bed.

When we packed up all our shit and left our shady crack town last year, we were full of hopes and dreams. We would have our dream house on lots of land with chickens and goats and ponies. We would have brand new everything because ultimately we left most of it behind. We would magically be skinny, tan, and have white teeth…Ok I may be getting carried away. But for real, we spent a lot of nights discussing things we wanted in our new house and new future.

We came to realize, somewhere between packing the dining room and the living room, that the majority of our belongings didn’t reflect us at all. The kitchen table was a hand me down, the dining room table was bought on clearance and had no chairs. Every thing that hung on the walls was crap I bought at Goodwill to cover up blank spaces.

We were adamant that in our new house, our items would be OURS. We would pick them. We would like them. We would love them. They would make us happy.

HAVE YOU PRICED FURNITURE LATELY?! Ha. If we thought we were going to be paying a down payment and then furnishing our entire house and in law suite we must have been smoking some of that crack from our old town. Very seriously, a decent dining room table is at least $3,000. And that isn’t including the chairs. What. The. Hell.

The big issue for us was the bed situation. We very fully believe in sharing our bed with Pixie, and sometimes one of the kids needs to lay with us for a bit. Or on Sunday mornings when we have family snuggle time. Sometimes, I just like to sleep like I’m bungee jumping. Whatever the reason, our bed was too frickin’ small. A queen just wasn’t cutting it anymore. Gone are the days of happily snuggling together as we fall into blissful slumber. No. We lay in bed like two zombies, listening to Little Littles scream, neither wanting to share a blanket or pillow, and sometimes not even a mattress.

So, we wanted a king. We NEEDED a king. Right?

Well, perhaps if we wanted to remortgage our brand new house, we could afford one. Anything worth laying on was close to 5 grand. And I’m sorry. But. No.

Then Wonderful Husband came across GhostBed. They are American made, donate to the military, have a 101 day money back guarantee, and were currently offering 3 free pillows along with free shipping.

The king mattress came in a 4×2 box and cost $975.

Hot Damn. Sign me up.

We ordered it and eagerly awaited its arrival. Which was only 3 days later. However, Wonderful Husband was out of town, and I knew he wouldn’t want to miss popping that cellophane to watch this sucker puff up. So, I waited.

It took a few hours to puff up 100%, and we didn’t sleep on it until the following night just to be sure. But, the minute we did. It was love.

This mattress is all memory foam with some type of temperature controlling stuff in it so you don’t get to hot or too cold. Its firm, but not a rock. It’s soft, but you don’t have to go all floppy fish to try and get out of it. When you lay down you can feel it conforming to you body, but you don’t sink down in. Your hips and shoulders don’t hurt from it being too hard, but your neck isn’t all wonky from it being too soft.

Simply put: it’s amazing.

The pillows are just as amazing. Lavender infused so you have a fabulous scent to lull you to sleep, they are squishy, but don’t lose their shape. I could go on and on.

The best thing I can say, is that I am actually feeling somewhat rested when I get up in the morning. Between my insomnia, the baby crying, and being an adult female who has to pee, snack, or get out of bed for whatever reason every 2 hours at night, I haven’t felt rested in I can’t even remember how long. This bed is doing it for me. I can feel myself sinking into a deep, comfortable sleep (although short lived) and when I get up in the morning I don’t feel as cranky, or crippled.

We are so happy with our purchase. We got our king size bed, we got comfort, and we didn’t break the bank.

Win. Win!