Thanks, Pregnancy: 6 Unusual Things I've Cried Over Lately

Nothing makes a grown woman more irrational and weepy than a 15-year-old girl than pregnancy hormones, and Chaun from Hiccups and Pastries knows it all too well. I can really relate to her guest post today in far too many ways... can you?


I'm a little envious of Jenny right now that she gets to be on her maternity leave, because I still have 6 months of pregnancy to go before I can get to that point.

Even so, I'm feeling especially pregnant right now, because all this crying that's been going on lately. (I thought this stage ended when I moved out for college, leaving my three teenage sisters at home.)

With my first baby, I was frustrated with most things that had a face, especially my husband. This time around, I'm just literally crying over stuff like this.

1. Freaking delicious sushi.

You wouldn't expect glorious sushi rolls in Utah, but then again, we are a state of many delectable surprises.

Take funeral potatoes, for example. Like Utah sushi, it doesn't sound like something that's appropriate to go nuts on at a party. Or, uh, a funeral. But Utah natives know how to make any occasion a good celebration of food.

When I found out I was pregnant, I knew that I would need to celebrate with some salmon and eel sauce sushi. Just the thought of it brings happy tears to my eyes.

2. My OB-GYN.

She told me I could eat basically whatever, just not sushi.

SUSHI.

"What if it's the deep fried kind?" my husband asked the doctor. He could see the beginning crumbles of my internal infrastructure.

"No. Deep fried is not cooked." The OB doc paused, and then said, "I just hate all sushi and think it shouldn't ever be eaten."

Sooo, is sushi actually bad for me, or am I just a victim of her personal rage?

3. This letter from a teacher to her 3rd grade students.

I heard this letter  read over the K-LOVE station a few weeks ago, and I couldn't keep from tearing up and driving away ambiguously into the sunset as I listened along.

"The scores you will get from these tests will tell you something, but they will not tell you everything. These tests do not define you. There are many ways of being smart. YOU are smart! You are enough! You are the light that brightens my day and the reason I am happy to come to work each day. So, in the midst of all of these tests, remember that there is no way to “test” all of the amazing and awesome things that make you, YOU."

Reading back on it again, I think it's super sweet (and accurate!) but I'm not feeling the mushy-gushy tears I felt before. What about you?

4. Burritos.

My sister texted me a picture of her and her boyfriend eating a burrito. She said something like, "We had a great date night!" but all I could see was "We have burritos. You don't. Also, we hate you."

I whimpered and moaned at my misfortune. Burritos! I needed a burrito. All my self-worth was in that burrito.

Taylor, in an effort to make turn that frown upside down, but to avoid a midnight run at Del Taco, brought me a glass of milk and some graham crackers.

I guess my milk did taste a little like a burrito, once my tears were well mixed into it.

5. Speaking of Taylor, his stomach made me cry once.

I didn't understand that this was pregnancy hormones until it was over. It was traumatic. (Or is it dramatic? I never figured out the difference between the two from my teenager years.)

Taylor and I were at a family barbecue, with plans to go to my sister's birthday dinner right after. We made plans not to eat too much at the first event, so we'd have room to enjoy the next party. That was the agreement: do not overeat.

As I watched my husband pack down his plate of chicken, and then chips, and finally a couple of rolls, tears began filling my eyes. I allowed myself to explore all the heartbreaking outcomes of his meal decision. What if we drove all the way to my sister's party and he wasn't able to eat anything? What if he sat around being sad while we binged on cake around him? What if this turned out to be a miserable experience on a big milestone in my sister's life?!

A man who can't enjoy his dinner is enough to make a grown woman cry. A pregnant one, that is.

6. The garbage bins.

I can see you nodding in agreement. Yes, the garbage bins are something to cry over, aren't they?

Well, honestly, this is perhaps the most embarrassing thing that's happened so far. I heard a strange, rumbling sound from outside my house. I didn't dare venture out in the daylight to figure out what it was, though. Pregnancy has made me into a grumpy, frumpy hermit. It's a good thing, since it keeps me from showcasing my everyday PJ attire to my neighbors.

As the rumbling grew closer, it occurred to me that it was Friday morning. Friday morning is important. It's when the garbage man comes.

I needed that garbage man to take out this trash because I had forgotten last week's trash. Judging by the sound of the truck engine, I knew I probably had enough time to run the 5 feet that is my driveway and present my overfilled can to the curb.

But rather than yanking up my big girl panties in courage, I laid on the couch instead. And felt pathetic as I pondered my new life as a hermit living in a home built from milk cartons and Wheat Thin crumbs.

Pregnancy hormones do weird, weird things to us ladies. (Especially revolving around food.)

Now that I've laid out my emotional dirt on the Internet, it's your turn! What's the most unusual thing you've cried over?

About the Author:

Chaun Jacobs is a pastries-eating enthusiast, writer, and usually has her camera bag by her side. You can usually find her over at the Hiccups and Pastries blog. If she's not there, then she's definitely in the pantry, fishing for snacks. Chaun currently lives in Salt Lake City, Utah with her family and imaginary cats. Find her on Facebook here.

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8 Ways Public Restrooms Suck When You're a Parent

I'm excited to introduce you guys to Katelyn Fagan from What's Up Fagans? She's here to tell us all about every parent's worst nightmare: the public restroom. Have you ever avoided taking a kid to pee at the mall? Then she knows exactly how you feel.

This post contains affiliate links.


It's very likely that before having kids you never thought very hard about the restroom you frequented when out in public. Your worst fear was that a stall wouldn't have toilet paper, or someone hadn't flushed the toilet, or that you had to stand in line.

But, once you have a child, you realize how terribly designed and poorly thought-out a vast majority of restrooms are for small children and babies. In fact, many are downright cruel.

1. The Automatic Toilets

I'm gonna start off with this "genius" idea that germophobes/clean freaks invented: automatic toilets. Automatic toilets to a child are akin to a monster reaching their hand from the depth of the toilet pipes and trying to drag them down the drain.

As a newly potty trained child of about two or three, my daughter was traumatized at a public park when she was happily sitting down, doing her thing in the restroom, and the toilet monster "Auto Flush" scared the living daylights out of her. She flew (literally FLEW) off the toilet seat and lay face-down, bare-bummed, onto the nasty restroom floor crying hysterically.

Now, as a 6-year-old she still hates automatic toilets, but can finally manage to do her business without flipping out.

Here's a trick - Put toilet paper over the sensor. Way better than squeezing behind the toilet seat while carrying a purse and/or another child, in order to place your hand in front of the sensor the entire time.

2. The Dyson Airblade Hand Dryer (or any hand dyer)

I'm going to assume you know exactly what hand dryer I am talking about, but here's a picture in case you don't.

Before kids, you think these hand dryers are the thing of the future! Dry both hands in a matter of seconds? No paper towel waste? Awesome sauce! What could be better?

Lots of things. Like paper towels.

These "wave of the future" dryers are extremely loud. When you are, say, changing an infant right next to it, your baby will most likely flip out. Even when a child is old enough to use it themselves, they often don't want to, for the same reason — it's so dang loud.

Even traditional hand dryers are a pain. If kids can even reach them to turn them on, they're still standing directly below the blower getting hot air blown right into their face. Everyone loves that....

Lastly, if a public restroom only has hand dryers, and you forgot diaper wipes, or you need to clean up your child's mess/spill/bodily fluid, or you need to wrap up a child's messy poop-stained clothes, you are sorta out of luck. Try using the single ply toilet paper.

3. The largest stalls have the tallest toilets

I am all for handicap accessibility, and understand why their commodes are higher up. But when you escort small kids you also need the largest stall, which is the handicap stall.

Unfortunately, this also means that the toilet seat is super-high for your child, and with their blossoming independence this can lead to some scary incidents of kids placing hands and faces and more directly onto (or in! Eek!) the toilet seat.

4. Everything Is Too Tall

Nice one, bathroom designers.

When your child is three feet tall, everything is too tall in the restroom.

They may magically reach the water in the sink, only to find the soap dispenser and paper towels an additional foot or two higher on the wall.

Even trash cans can be hard to reach, especially if they're underneath the hole in the counter. Door locks and sometimes even the flush handle can be out of reach!

The other day my three year old experienced a new item that was too tall for him in the restroom — the toilet paper itself! Even with a small strip hanging down from the dispenser, he couldn't reach it! I didn't try it myself, but even I may have had to lift my tush off the seat in order to grab some!

5. Some Restrooms Don't Have a Changing Table

Apparently, it's only cool to complain about no changing tables in a restroom if you're Ashton Kutcher, but any way the message gets across to store owners that baby changing tables are a must for their customers, I'm totally okay with.

There have been way too many times when I've changed a baby in my lap, on a slanted car seat, or in the back of my vehicle's trunk because a place lacked proper facilities. A few times I changed a diaper (quickly and discretely) while sitting somewhere in the establishment.

And seriously, put them in the men's room too!

6. Counters Are Too Deep

There is something fancy about big, pretty sinks and counters. But they also mean that your child can't reach the sink handles, push buttons, or auto sensors at the back, let alone the soap dispenser above said deep counter.

These deep counters mean practically pulling a child's arm out of its socket to reach the water or soap, or finding a way to use your own hands while simultaneously handling a child in a public restroom that's a minefield of nasty. It's also likely your child may have indents in their abdomen from leaning so hard and so far forward to reach.

I rarely find a public restroom that keeps a stool in the restroom that would help remedy this situation...

7. The Gap in the Seat

I have zero idea why it's so popular for public restroom toilet seats to have a space in the very front of it. Like, someone decided the front portion of the seat was optional, and was a smart way to save a few cents in production.

This cheapskate decision means that many a child's small bum slips between the gap, as well as increases the likelihood of them accidentally peeing on their clothes (even when female.)

Ah, toilet gaps. How I love to hate thee...

8. NOT Family-Friendly

If you are a parent to multiple young children, then you fully understand the horror that is restroom trips.

Fitting 3 or 4 children and yourself in one tiny restroom is not for the faint of heart, especially if all of them don't have to use the facilities. It leaves too much empty time, too much freedom in a room full of germs.

Many times I have a child sliding themselves along the restroom floor, sitting on the floor, messing with the tiny trash cans in the stall (full of other people's bodily fluids), and occasionally putting things in their mouths or tasting/licking surfaces.

(It's worse if you actually need to go — I may or may not have used a toilet while wearing my daughter in a baby carrier on my chest.) Family restrooms help, but nothing can fully prepare you for the stress that is multiple children in a restroom at the same time.

Trips to public restrooms as a parent really are things nightmares are made of, but at least they're helping build up my child's immune system, my nerves, and my patience.

Oh, and hey, a lot of restrooms have the automatic soap dispensers going for them. If they are at the appropriate height and counter depth, they are fantastic. Automatic soap dispensers for the win!

What do you hate about public restrooms now that you are a parent?

About the Author:

Katelyn Fagan is a young Latter-day Saint wife and homeschooling mom of four kids: twin 6-year-old girls, a 3-year-old boy, and an 8-month-old baby girl. She likes to keep a sense of humor about the challenges that come from raising kids, living in an apartment, trying to keep a clean home, and staying sane. You can find her tips on raising kids, pinching pennies, and living simply over on her fun and practical blog What's up Fagans?. Grab a copy of her laundry stain removal cheat sheet, then be sure to follow her on social media: Facebook | Pinterest | Twitter | Instagram..

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Why You Are Different and Everything Else Is the Same After Baby #4

If you have a big family or are just morbidly curious about people who do, you're going to love Crystal from So-So Mom. As the mom of  seven, she knows what she's talking about, and her guest post today about having a large family is hilariously accurate, in every way.

Have you ever heard the saying "Once you have four, you might as well have more?" I'm a firm believer that it's true.

For me, having a first, second, and third child were all unique events with different accompanying challenges that changed me in a variety of ways. After that, the fourth through seventh babies came along with relatively little fanfare.

I got to wondering why and here's what I came up with to explain why I became such a different mom after number four and everything stayed the same from there on out.

You Are Different Because:

You no longer equate your child's natural development with your personal success. You've experienced wildly differing paces at which your first few children learned to crawl, walk, talk, and defecate in the appropriate place. You are now fully aware that your hard work in these areas is completely irrelevant to the child's mastery of them. This realization has helped you triumph over massive amounts of mommy-guilt if they did not do these things according to the milestone charts or massive amounts of hubris if your eldest was 'advanced.'

You now realize that some kids are drastically more difficult than others. Odds are that your discipline style has produced at least one calm, quiet angel and at least one tantrum-throwing maniac by number four. When your kid misbehaves in public, you can confidently look a disapproving stranger in the eye and say, "It's not me, it's him! I have seen what I'm doing here turn out very well in the past." This has helped you overcome worrying about what other people think and blaming yourself for your child's every flaw. You also no longer believe that the woman who is raising the child that hit yours at playgroup a few years back is the worst mother on Earth.

You've witnessed anecdotal evidence refuting scientific study after scientific study on a myriad of parenting issues. Maybe the child who watched the least TV has the most difficulty with attention issues or that breastfed baby has a ridiculous number of ear infections compared to the bottle-fed one. And everyone has seen that stuffing a baby with fruits and veggies for two years does not make them immune from preferring junk food from the moment they get the first taste. This has given you more confidence to just raise your kids the way you want and not fret about what is supposedly best for them according to science at the moment.

You have seen a number of monumental concerns turn out perfectly fine. That horribly naughty preschooler did not end up in military school and you would truly enjoy just one moment of silence from that very late-talker turned tween. Your brain is busy with the new big kid issues that are coming up as the older children grow, so dealing with the little kid stuff feels comfortable and easy — comparatively. For example, you know that the two-year-old ought to be saying more words by now, but it is pretty low on the list of concerns most days when you have two teens headed off to prom for the first time. This has helped you not sweat the small stuff, the medium stuff, or even the big stuff, just the 'new territory' stuff.

Everything Is the Same Because:

The older children begin to notice a pattern. A new baby is no longer a monumental, rare event in their eyes. It's just something that happens every couple of years, like the Olympics. Once a baby turns two, you will likely hear, "So, when are we getting a new baby? This one is getting old."

Your idea of 'good mothering' no longer changes. Your standards gradually decline with each of the first three children. After the fourth child, your standards flatline for subsequent children. There is simply nowhere else to go.

Your older children are now in school which creates a monotonous routine. You have no choice but to fit a new baby into that routine, rather than alter the routine for the new baby. The arrival of a number five or six has a negligible impact on your daily life compared to the tumultuous events surrounding the births of your first, second, or third child.

They wear and use all the same stuff. You have most likely experienced at least one child of each gender by the time you get to number four, so you have hand-me-downs at the ready for either gender and little money available to get new things.

The years begin to bleed together in your mind. It is easy to remember specifics about two or three children, but once there are more, stories you tell about your kids have lost their individuality. You no longer specify a name and just begin with, "One of mine,..." because you aren't 100% sure which one the story is about.


If this post has convinced you that you should go ahead and just have ten kids now, I must warn you 'everything' was an overstatement.

Two things keep changing like the size of a snowball rolling down a hill: laundry and expenses. These two items seem to increase exponentially each time a new baby is added to the family!

About the Author:

Crystal Foose mothers seven kids, ranging in age from 2-17, and lives out in the middle of nowhere Colorado. She is a conservative Christian who aims to hone the craft of giving advice without pretending to have this whole mom thing figured out on her blog So-So Mom. She can also be found on her So-So Mom Facebook page.

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5 Instagram Posts You Won't See from Me

Our guest post today comes from Katy at Experienced Bad Mom, talking all about Instagram. Friends, I still thought Valencia was just another too-classy-for-me neighborhood in California, so just count your blessings that it's her telling you about this stuff and not me. 


Are you on Instagram? I admit I was pretty much dragged onto it kicking and screaming.

That said, there's a part of me that enjoys my (sporadic) posts on Instagram. Posting a picture there is somehow different than tweeting it, pinning it, or sharing it on Facebook. Plus, it's got those cool filters to play with.

There are 5 common Instagram posts that you will never see from me, though. Just a warning in case you are going to follow me (pretty please) and were really hoping for these types of photos. Nope. Nada. Never.

Indeed, I present the 5 types of Instagram posts you won't see from me:

1. The naked selfie. A few months ago, Kim Kardashian posted a naked picture of herself on her Instagram account and people were talking. They were talking so much that even I, who doesn't pay attention to Kim Kardashian, heard about it. So let me be clear: you will never see a naked selfie of me on my Instagram account. I like my clothes and I have no desire to be naked, take pictures of myself being naked, and then post pictures of my nakedness, even with those fancy Instagram filters. 
2. Car seat selfies. Numerous friends and family members have posted pictures of themselves sitting in the driver's seat of their car. How do you take a picture of yourself there? Why do you take a picture of yourself there? This must be some special voodoo magic that only Millennials know how to do and want to do. You know what I like to do when I'm sitting in the driver's seat of my car? Drive my car. 
3. Gourmet meals. There are some extravagant, finely crafted meals out there. Foi gras with rich balsamic glaze. Tarte flambee with creme fraiche, goat cheese, grand cru gruyere and onion. However, my meals are neither extravagant nor finely crafted. They usually consist of Kraft blue box mac and cheese or turkey hot dogs. 
4. Stylish outfits. The last time I was on trend was probably 1993 and anyone who remembers the 90s knows that was not a good look. Nowadays I wear business casual to work (boring) and comfy stuff at home (boring). Vogue has never called me for a quote about fashion. Their loss.
5. Any pictures of me. I'm one of those moms. The one who takes the picture and isn't in it. I'm not bitter and it doesn't bother me at all. It's just the way it it. Plus, it seems like the only pictures of people I see on Instagram anymore are the naked selfies or the car seat selfies and I already covered my stance on those.

There you have it, the 5 Instagram posts you won't see on my account. What will you see? I only post a couple times a week and it's usually pictures of my cat, Scooter, and my kids — if they'll let me. They're cute (especially the cat) in my unbiased opinion.

Sometimes I post solely to think up original #hashtags to go with my pictures. #sofun #followme #whyareweusingsomanyhashtagsanyway  

About the Author:

Katy M. Clark writes a lighthearted blog, Experienced Bad Mom, where she embraces her imperfections as a mom. Follow her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and Instagram (OF COURSE!).

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I Blame Childbirth

I can't wait for you to meet Amanda from The Lady Okie, I really can't. She's guest posting today about the, um, "miraculous changes" we all go through after bearing a child. If you laugh so hard you pee your pants, don't blame either of us — especially if you've birthed babies. We all know whose fault that is.

My husband and I never took a child birthing class. I know, the horror. I’m surprised they even admitted us to a delivery room, simpletons that we were.

I wanted to take one, but every time I thought about pushing a child through… there, I started crying. Not that there was anything unusual about that in my hormonal condition, but still.

By the time I finally got my act together enough to look into classes, there were only two Saturday sessions remaining before my due date, and we were going to be out of town both weekends. Fate had spoken. Instead, the hospital mailed me a packet of materials from the class, which I refused to open once they actually arrived because I cried every time I looked at the cover of the pamphlet.

My daughter is now eight months old, and I have given it enough time and space to look back on that blessed event and quite honestly tell you that it wasn’t as horrible as I thought it would be. No, in fact it was much worse.

But after my daughter was placed in my arms, amazingly the pain started to fade just like they said, and I found myself thinking insane thoughts like, Surely it wasn’t as bad as I remember. I imagined that, right?

All I’m left with now is a beautiful baby and a few, ahem, personal side effects that no one likes to tell you. Since none of these happened to me before I pushed a baby out of me, I have no choice but to blame childbirth for the following:

1. Pain is Always at Zero Unless I’m Pushing Out a Baby

When I first arrived at the hospital, clutching my stomach and 38 weeks pregnant, they asked me to rate my pain on a scale of one to ten.

“Um… a four?”

HAHA. No.

Childbirth has ruined me on rating pain. If labor is a 10, then everything else ever until the end of time is a zero, maybe even going negative.

Labor really just belongs on its own scale of pain, and now I can no longer complain about any type of discomfort, however larger or small, or I feel like a huge wimp because remember that time I pushed out a baby? Take your sad little stubbed toe and sit down.

2. I Have No More Dignity

One thing that always embarrassed me about labor was the idea of a bunch of strangers standing at my bottom end while I had my legs spread eagle. Well, let me tell you: a baby isn’t the only thing that shoots out of you when you give birth. Along with that 7-pound gift from God comes your dignity forever and ever amen.

I had a doctor, three nurses, and a med student, and they could have brought the janitor in for all I know. And I didn’t care, then or now.

I breastfeed my daughter, and let me tell you: more people have seen my boobs in the last 8 months than have seen them in the last thirty years, and it doesn’t bother me one bit.

There’s just something about lying on your side on a hospital bed in the fetal position wearing a gown that doesn’t close in the back that makes you reevaluate your stance on modesty.

3. There Is No More Control… Down There

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve either peed or pooped my pants while doing everyday life things, I would have at least enough for a few Starbucks drinks. Venti size.

I’ve peed while laughing, while coughing, while going from sitting to standing (???). And let’s not forget about the times I pooped my pants while running. Yes, that’s "times," plural. I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say I’m down a few pairs of underwear.

All I have to say is, I blame childbirth.

Best of luck to you, Jenny. Anyone brave enough to do this crazy childbirth thing more than once, let alone six times, needs some kind of medal. And, let’s be honest, probably a pair of Depends.

About the Author:

Amanda Bumgarner is a professional editor living in Oklahoma City with her husband and 9-month-old daughter. When she's not editing or changing dirty diapers, she is running or reading or correcting someone's bad grammar, possibly all at the same time. Kidding! Find her on her blog, Twitter, or Facebook.

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4 Reasons Teething Is a Baby’s Version of PMS

Michelle from michmash is guest posting here today, and you're in luck. Reading her blog for 5 minutes will make you wish she was your funny best friend, and you won't even care if that's a creepy thing to say. Not least of all, she's got a theory about babies teething that I think definitely warrants some peer-reviewed studies. 


Now, I'm only a year into this motherhood gig. I am no expert on anything child-related.

I'm not actually an expert on anything aside from how to take sneaky pictures of people in public (I didn't say I was proud of that.)

I have, however, learned in my one short year that teething can reside in the same ring of fire and brimstone that PMS often frequents. Also growth spurts, but that's another post for another day.

Maybe you don't agree with me. That's fine! My family had dinner with some friends of ours a few months ago, and they told us their children never had any bad reactions to teething. I'm still waiting for test results to determine if their children are, in fact, human. Or maybe my daughter inherited her low pain tolerance from me. Anything's possible.

1. Sophie the Giraffe = chocolate cake and heating pad. 

They cope by gnawing on a squeaky rubber zoo animal. Or if you're my child, you chew on your mother's old Beanie Babies. Whatever works.

Also, pain meds work in both scenarios. Ibuprofen is the universal language that can be understood by all in pain. Praise hands.

2. You make special exceptions. 

Cramps? Order a pizza — you don't need to be cooking dinner in your condition! Maybe with a side of a burrito and ice cream? Just thinking out loud here.

Teething baby? Turn on Winnie the Pooh. I know you said you wouldn't be that mother that puts her kid in front of the TV for any reason whatsoever, but we're talking about your sanity here. Any and all distractions from the swollen gum demons are welcome.

Also, another handful of puffs (or as my mother calls them, "junk food for babies") can't hurt!

MORE PUFFS, mother!

3. You have something to blame weird symptoms on!

Strange stomach pain? Headache? Sudden acne or craving? Check the calendar. Even if the dates are off, it's probably PMS. It just came early! How depressing — better grab a cookie!

Is your baby whining more than normal? Waking up at night? Not napping? Fever? Rash? Drooling? Chewing on things? Sick? Nursing strike? Rosy cheeks? Bored? Disobedient? TEETHING. IT'S ALWAYS TEETHING.

4. You forget every time. 

Maybe it's just me (it probably is) but every month I am stunned that I'm suddenly starving and cranky. What happened to me? Is it cancer? What is this??

It takes me by surprise every time. I can still tell you the outfit I wore on my first day of kindergarten, but after 15 years I still can't remember my hormones are going to act up every month.

The same goes for babies. Why is my darling, angelic child suddenly screaming at 5 AM? Why won't she take her nap? WHY CAN'T SHE JUST PLAY WITH HER BUCKET OF TOYS AND LEAVE ME ALONE FOR 2 SECONDS?

If you open her mouth, I guarantee you'll see a new tooth poking through, or at the very least some swollen gums. They look swollen, don't they? At least a little more red than usual? It has to be teething. It always is.

 Am I wrong? Am I right? Did I miss anything? You can tell me; I can take it. I'll just be over here with my bar of chocolate.

About the Author:

I'm Michelle from michmash. I write about the wonderful horrors of motherhood, like getting stuck in a Baby Bjorn, and also non-mom things like making fun of my childhood photos and my thoughts on the books I've been reading. I'm the wife to James and the mother to one-year-old Gracie. We live in the Midwest and are often seen ordering pizza and spending an hour trying to decide what to watch on Netflix. I love Jenny, so if you're a friend of hers, I consider you a friend of mine. Can I make you a friendship bracelet? What are your favorite colors?

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