You might think a post like this would feature some lofty and brag-worthy recent feats. Mom of the Year. The quarterly Most-Functional-Despite-Least-Hours-of-Sleep award. Sexiest Woman Alive.

All in due time.

Instead, my recent accomplishments have been a little, shall we say, subdued. Behold my first feat of skill and daring:



Yes, that is my wedding ring in a bowl foregrounded by my swollen, sausagey finger (aka: the reason why I’m postponing acceptance of my Sexiest Woman Alive award until next year). The last time I was pregnant I couldn’t get my ring off, so I figured that this time I would be proactive and remove it early, before I cut off all circulation to my finger. While I still could. Unfortunately, I happen to be a wimp. Despite using:

  • 1. Dish soap
  • 2. Windex
  • 3. Dental floss


It still hurt too much. Finally, while watching The Bachelor, I was filled with a sudden sense of courage. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones and how they make me want to become deeply invested in shows like The Bachelor. Anyway, I gave my outstretched finger to Chris, squinched up my eyes and nose, looked away, and whispered, “Just PULL.”

And it worked!

Onward to bigger and better things. Witness Exhibit 2:

Yummy in my tummy.

Yummy in my tummy.

This is the bread that I wish I had baked. The actual loaf I baked was too embarrassing to photograph because I somehow picked the wrong setting on the bread machine and it turned out looking like a lumpy, fossilized elephant turd. The featured loaf of bread, on the other hand was technically baked by Chris. However, I am claiming this as my own accomplishment because I

(1) measured the ingredients, and everyone knows that measurement is key to success in baking; and

(2) I did that despite my previous baking catastrophe, and everyone knows that success in life comes from picking yourself up after falling down, or some inspirational quote like that. Mwaha.


And, finally, Exhibit 3:

Hide the evidence.

Hide the evidence.

Those of you in my Facebook entourage may have observed that I recently took Conor to a comic book store with Chris and some friends. In theory this seemed like a good idea. In practice I realized it meant coming up with Macguyver-like methods for preventing Conor from grabbing and ripping to shreds every comic in sight. And let me tell you, there were a lot of comics in sight.

I am pleased to report unprecedented success due to the following strategies:

  • 1. Outfitting Conor in giant puffy mittens
  • 2. Directing Conor to action figures safely encased in plastic
  • 3. Encouraging Conor to climb under and around the furniture
  • 4. Using the phrase “Go find Dada” repeatedly and often


I hearby award myself the title of Wrangler Extraordinaire.


I didn’t know I was pregnant


Bebe numero dos

Bebe numero dos

So I’ve never actually watched that show, but I always found the premise to be somewhat sketchy. How do you just NOT KNOW that you’re pregnant? Wouldn’t something of that nature be, um, a little obvious?

Well, friends, I can now say with confidence that I, Audrey Flack, have successfully gone through almost the entirety of the first trimester having NO IDEA THAT I WAS PREGNANT.

Halloween? Pregnant.

Starettes show, complete with grueling tech week rehearsals followed by hour-long drives home, a baby with stomach flu sitting on top of me at 2 am and vomiting in my face (yes, that actually happened) and early-morning daycare drop-offs? Yep, pregnant then.

High school reunion, during which I drank gin and tonics basically the entire evening? Pregnant then, too.

In retrospect, it is hard for me to fathom how I did NOT imagine that I was pregnant, given that I experienced all of the following:

a) Unexplained and bizarre cravings (rationale: I’m dancing nonstop! I need protein)!

b) Exhaustion (rationale: I’m dancing nonstop! Followed by: It’s the holidays!)

c) Barfing (rationale: my coffee creamer must have gone bad!)

d) Sleeping a lot (my rationale: Family visits are exhausting! It’s the holidays!)

e) Too-tight pants (my rationale: I’ve stopped dancing and am still eating like a pig! It’s the holidays!)

f) Receiving RANDOM CONGRATULATIONS ON BEING PREGNANT from strangers  (My responses: (1) be uber-pissed, (2) vow to dust off my Insanity workout DVDs. (In the new year, of course. It’s the holidays!)

Basically, everyone knew that I was pregnant except for myself. I am pleased to inform you all that I am now aware of this fact. Hopefully I have not traumatized my future progeny beyond all recognition.

And guess what? I’m almost done with the first trimester! Less time to wait to find out the gender! Morning sickness is almost over! Really, this whole being-so-hopelessly-out-of-touch-with-oneself thing is turning out to be a pretty good deal.

And now, please to enjoy some charming photos of bebe numero uno himself. He has recently adopted many of my favorite activities, including yoga:



And eating too much Mexican food:

Table manners.

Table manners.

Still working on the baby breakdancing training. It. Will. Happen.