Hello! Are you my male co-worker, father, father-in-law, boy cousin, one of my girlfriends’ husbands, stepdad or grandfather? (Of course you’re not my grandfather. Neither grandfather knows what a blog is nor how to use the Internet.) If you are any others on that list, take a hint and stop reading. Seriously, shoo! Here you go. Not to insult you, but I hear you guys like this. Read it. Go on! You’ve been warned.

Okay, are we all clear?  Good.

Ya’ll, I’m already a lactation sensation at 26 weeks pregnant! I’m not even kidding you. It’s been going on for a few weeks now. Tiny drops here and there. Tonight breast milk came out for real when I squeezed to express a little. I was just curious in the shower as I’ve been feeling it on and off.

I explained to my breastfeeding coworker that I seriously can not see her walking down the hall with her pump without getting that old familiar feeling. I told my mom how itchy and “let downish” I often feel. I was baffled by this as this was NOT the case during my first pregnancy. I wondered if it was just because I know what the feeling is this time?

Regardless it’s bizarre. With my first baby I didn’t see a drop until the nurse in the delivery room explained how to express a little to nurse my baby for the first time. I think my exact words were, “Well, I’ll be damned, there’s milk in there!” I saw the tiny drops of colostrum form and was truly amazed that my body had decided to make food for another human.

Confession. Don’t laugh. I had no idea nipples have lots of little holes. I thought it was just one hole like a cow. Then I thought, “Oh, my God! Do cows have lots of little holes on their nipples, or just one?!” If you are an expert in bovine veterinary medicine, feel free to drop some knowledge on me. Oh, and if you’re like me and didn’t know what colostrum is, skip a step and click here. You’re welcome.

I was thinking about how unbelievably blind I was going into breastfeeding the first time. I knew pretty much nothing and suddenly became a milk making machine. I did what I was told could never be done. I was a full-time working mother who exclusively breastfed for an entire year. I credit this to two things:

1. I didn’t cheap out on the breast pump and got a good one. (My pump was great. I’ve already told my sister to get the even better one than I did.)
2. I just got really freakin’ lucky. I mean, really lucky. (I made a lot of milk and my kid took to it really well.)

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s showing up so early, but it just made things really real, you know? I know I’m pregnant and I know we’re having another baby, but honestly, I haven’t done much to prepare for this child. Granted, with my first pregnancy I started a blog, dove into message board groups, did copious amounts of stroller research, found the safest non-toxic nursery paint and registered for everything everyone told me I would ever need, ever.

For this baby…uh. Well…we have an empty room with a closet full of infant equipment handed down from his/her big sister.

Those little drops on my boob made me realize I do have a few things I want to accomplish before I bust out the old pump again. ::sigh:: Okay, Baby 2.0. You’ve made it known with your kicks and milk that you are on your way. I promise to be ready for you. Clearly I’ll be ready to greet you with a drink. Cheers!

I’ve been not writing about this for a couple weeks. Finally being able to talk about it makes me so happy! Most of you know I grew up with in a house with one sister. Julie and I are nearly three years apart. Mom asked me one time, “I wonder when Julie and Kevin will have a baby?” I said, “When Charlotte is three.” Mom said, “Why do you say that?” I said, “Because she does everything three years after me.” Mom laughed at my silly generalities.

Before the 4th of July holiday, Julie called me to say she and my brother-in-law were coming to see us in our new house. I said to Greyson, “I was thinking they were going to tell us they’re pregnant, but Julie sounded too perky. She didn’t sound tired enough to be pregnant.” Little did I know, Julie is better at hiding first trimester fatigue and indeed came to announce their big news!

Julie is due January 16. She reminded me these little cousins will be in the same grade in school and just 2 1/2 months apart in age. So fun! I can’t wait to meet my niece or nephew!

As happy as I am, as happy as I am for Julie and Kevin, I’m most happy for Charlotte. Siblings make us who we are and cousins are part of what makes childhood fun.

I confessed my anglophila back when I sipped coffee at 5:00am from my souvenir mug to watch William and Catherine become man and wife. It came up again when I found out she was pregnant. I took it upon myself to write her a letter. I haven’t heard back from the palace.

I’m sure the tweets of an American mommy don’t mean much to a Royal mummy but, I vehemently defended Kate online today. I had the live stream of the door of that hospital up on my computer today.  Seriously. I got anxious for Kate. If the whole world was tweeting about my cervix, I would have a f-ing breakdown. I mean, when I heard some “Royal obstetrics expert” on ABC News predict how many centimeters she was dilated and what that meant for her labor (excuse me, labour) I almost turned it off. When she said “It gives a new definition to the term ‘crowing’ Ha ha ha ha!” I was truly disgusted.

I am so happy for them. Healthy babies, rock! I genuinely thought it was a girl. Which goes to show you how good I am at gender prediction. Okay, I need to run. I’m sending my husband to buy a gilded easel to announce this baby’s birth. Every kid deserves that type of pageantry upon their arrival, but maybe without all the cervix tweets.

Also, someone pointed out to me on Facebook tonight that the royal baby is the same weight as the Baby Jesus that Ricky Bobby prayed to in Talladega Nights. That is awesome, and you can’t unhear that comparison.  You’re welcome. Here’s hoping the Prince of Cambridge never has a binding endorsement with Powerade.

This weekend we actually snuggled on the couch as man and wife and watched a movie on Netflix. My phone lit up and I looked down to see a CNN push notification that on a Saturday night the jury in the Zimmerman trial was coming back with a verdict.

I got that old familiar itch and I looked to my sweet husband. He said, “No, we’re not watching it live! We’re watching a movie.” Dang, you can take the girl out of the newsroom… We kept watching Bradley Cooper play a bipolar Philadelphia Eagles fan until I gasped at my phone when I saw this…

For the last few days I’ve been watching all the coverage and reading all the tweets. I watched Anderson Cooper exclusively question the controversial, shadowy figure that is Juror B37. I haven’t written about it until now because I’ve been thinking long and hard about this verdict. I want to write about it now, before the Royal Baby is born and the media forgets about the civil rights woes of Sanford, Florida.

Yes, I believe that racism was part of what fueled George Zimmerman’s behavior that led to the sad death of Trayvon Martin. I’m a white woman, so no, I’ve never been a victim of racism and feel it would be inappropriate for me to comment on this case as if I had experienced racism. But, two other things stick out to me that I think should also be part of the conversation.

1. I am an adult and I was once a teenager, so I CAN comment on this. In this case George Zimmerman was the adult and Trayvon Martin was the child. Zimmerman should have done what police told him and got back in his car, gone home and let law enforcement do their job. Instead, he acted like a juvenile vigilante and a youth in his community died because of his actions. That young man was 17-years-old. He was a kid! Zimmerman was the 29-year-old grown-up. I applaud any adult for participating in their neighborhood community watch programs, but part of being a community watch volunteer means you allow authorities to do their job. You do not take the law into your own hands.

Alright, so he didn’t listen to police. He still could have stopped this. Some might argue that evidence showed Martin started the fight. Okay, then I say again, Mr. Zimmerman you were the adult! Don’t fight back and definitely don’t pull out a gun! You are the adult. Stop this behavior. Maybe Martin would have gotten in some trouble for assault, trespassing or fighting or something. Okay, that stinks, but he would still be alive.

2. I think the Stand Your Ground law goes too far. From what we have heard so far, it sounds like the jury based their decision on the Stand Your Ground Law, believing their verdict was in keeping with Florida law. I don’t have a problem with the 2nd Amendment. I understand it. I personally do not want to carry a gun, but I would never take away the right of another American to own one. My worry is that law will continue to fuel citizens like Zimmerman to take the law into their own hands.

Okay, I got it out. Phew! I feel better. Am I off base here? What do you think? Hurry up and respond! Our attention will soon turn to London when the royal waters break across the pond.

I share an office at work with two girls ages 22 and 24. I love it. They are wonderfully sweet and kind, like all my coworkers. They are very hard working women and are learning so much. I joke with them that my pregnancy symptoms are catching whenever they talk about “craving” a food or “feeling tired.” They are more than kind when I am carrying a bunch of stuff or complain of being hot in the office. They look out for the pregnant woman.

Most of the time I don’t even think about how I am 8 to 10 years older than they are. You know how it is when you get to be an adult, you don’t even notice age difference that much anymore. That is, unless you and your fellow 30-something friends are PSYCHED about the New Kids on the Block/Boys II Men concert and they look at you like you have five heads.

Leaving them on Friday after a discussion made me all reflective about life. Ashley is 22 and just finished college. I love hearing about her leaving her sorority sisters and starting a career. I know that unsure, exhilarating feeling. I was so focused on making it in my chosen profession while learning what it meant to be an adult. There is no other time like it.

I realized this May that I graduated college ten years ago. Ten years! I’ll be 32 next month. Sometimes the last ten years feels like an instant. Sometimes age 22 feels like a lifetime ago. I was telling Ashely how I wouldn’t go back to being 22, that 32 was better.  No, I wouldn’t go back. I love my life now. I have so much more than I ever thought I would. My husband, my family, our house and my career. In the last ten years I married my husband, accomplished my life dream of being a television news reporter and started my family.

Senior year sorority formal, just before graduation in 2003. I was still 21.

No, I wouldn’t go back, but I wouldn’t trade being 22 for anything in the world. I’m starting to think that even though my bank account was always overdrawn, I got too much sun exposure and drank too many cosmopolitans, 22 may be the smartest I ever was.

It was age 22 that I met the sports anchor at the news station and allowed myself to fall unabashedly in love and dive into a life with a man because I just felt like it was right. I knew that we were meant to be together. I didn’t give a second thought to the fact that we had only known each other 7 months when he asked me to be his wife. I instantly said yes.

2004. We were engaged. I think I was 22 or 23.

I was telling Ashley how hard it was starting my career in news and being the youngest person in a newsroom with older, hardened and seasoned professionals. I frequently kept 1 Timothy 4:12 in my head. “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.”

Even though my focus has changed and I have typical 30-something worries about toddler TV-time and a mortgage, my early 20’s will forever be precious in my mind. Those were the times that I made all the decisions that led me to the happiness I have now. Ashley and Kelsie serve as that daily reminder for me and they are a blessing.

Kathleen, Ashley and Kelsie. We are in good hands if they are the future of PR and communications.