It’s a balmy 45 degrees and rainy here in Lebanon, PA. If I’ve learned anything from my 18 months doing delivery jobs, it is that delivering in the rain is the worst. It can only be made bearable by choosing the right clothing and becoming one with your umbrella. So today I chose my old (literally, 3 pregnancies old) faithful maternity leggings, a cropped tee with the ironically embroidered word “staycation” on the breast, my hunter rain boots, and this horribly dumpy thrifted acrylic sweater that worked its way into my heart and isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I realized the other day that the thing I love about this sweater is how dumpy it actually is. My lack of care or concern for this sweater makes it one of the most used pieces of clothing in my life. My friend Alena was cold the other weekend and i gave it to her to wear around the campfire. The next day it smelled like Alena and campfire. I loved it. Chris wears it when he’s going into the yard to start the grill. Last week he had it on while he changed the inner tube on his bicycle tire. Normally I’d be like “Hey Hun, you and I both know you’re gonna end up melting the sleeves off that sweater, could you wear something else…?”  But not this sweater. It has earned its keep as the resident dumpy acrylic sweater. I hate the pilling all over it, I hated a poorly positioned belt with loop holes and I finally cut that off.  I guess you could say, I love to hate this sweater. Long live the dumpy, faithful, overworked, overused, under appreciated articles in your wardrobe!
A word on cropped shirts.  You imagine they will work out well while you’re pregnant because, well, they’re cropped. The opposite is actually true. They just kind of sit weird on the belly and draw attention to the fact that you’re a pregnant lady trying to make a cropped t shirt work.  But today, it’s what’s happening. 

I’m 30 weeks pregnant with our 7th child. We always know we want babies. We marvel at people who can decide to end their baby making days. It’s never been a strength of ours…hence #7. People have told me they “just knew they were done…”. Well, I think I might be there. And I think Chris might also be there. It’s little things, like not being able to bend over comfortably, again. Not having tons of energy. Doing the math and realizing we’ll be “the old parents” at some sporting event or choral concert. It’s reconfiguring bedrooms, again. It’s the unsettled feeling of the imminent arrival of another person to be fully and completely and utterly bound to and responsible for for yet another 18 years. It’s having to dismiss the older kids to care for the much needier baby in the family. I like to think of our family as the greatest piece of art that Chris and I have or will ever collectively participate in creating, and THAT helps all these other emotional and physical hiccups pale in comparison to the greater picture. All that being said…

Here we are, week 8 or something of this slower pace of life. Quarantine would be wearing on us much harder if we weren’t enjoying the changing seasons and planting a garden and housing illegal chickens and generally making home our primary focus. Little known fact, I have spent the last 18 months digging myself out of credit card debt. How did it happen? Easy. Real easy. Christmases, small business ideas that didn’t pan out, home projects, NEW BABIES!, retail therapy, and a general mindset that “at some point I won’t be the one bound to the home and I’ll figure out how to make some cash and I’ll change my financial landscape…”. That mindset was fine, for years and years and years, but eventually you just want the mail to stop bringing bad news and you want to know what it might feel like to breath a deep, free breath!
So I’m happy to announce that while the school year brings some minor setbacks in my ability to do “gig work” (“I’ll be back in 20 minutes…I have to deliver a burrito 2 miles away for 8 bucks…”) because my ultra responsible twin teenagers are busy, quarantine has been this alternate dimension of “gig work” busy-ness and overpayment. I was able to cram about 6 months of debt payoff into the last 8 weeks. I’m 1 week from complete financial freedom and I’ve thought long an hard about what I might do with my time and energy after next week. While I still fully intend to continue to pay our van payment every month, I can cut back to about 10% of my current work load to meet that monthly goal.
So I’m pretty excited to take some 3rd trimester walks and read all the books I always read that get me all psyched up to push a human out of my body sans drugs and medical intervention. For me it really is a mindset that takes a few months to build up to.  So, I’ll be eating bonbons and reading Childbirth Without Fear and Spiritual Midwifery and the like and just enjoying the last 2 months of what is really feeling like the last pregnancy I’ll know in this life. A true privilege.
But in the meantime, I also couldn’t help but think about the funnest part of every pregnancy for me (besides the baby I get to have at the end!) and at the risk of sounding go like a shallow person who doesn’t have any “real interests”, I have to admit that I absolutely LOVE to dress the bump. While thrift stores have been LOCKED DOWN, I did go on a wild thrifting rampage sometime back in February, before we took an early March trip to Florida. I stocked up on items to experiment with and skirts that seemed forgiving enough to stretch over a basketball and I’ve supplemented from Poshmark and EBay here and there as my thrifting itch gets too great and I just feel bored with my pregnancy options. I never used to think fashion could be a hobby, and maybe it isn’t…but I know I’m not the only gal perusing Pinterest and instagram strictly because I love to see fabrics arranged “just so” over a human figure. Plus, it has to be the funnest way to forget that the world seems a little impossible to navigate right now.
In other news, I am currently hosting one fabulous Krouse lady! Iris and I have waited 14 years for this. I kind of thought what better way to celebrate the life of our second little lady (among the testosterone of the 5 boys) than to spend the next 10 weeks using this magical space I have on the internet to document the fabulous pregnancy outfits I scrape together with a tiny girl tucked in my kangaroo pocket. Maybe my daughters with be marine biologists and forest rangers (I can almost guarantee Iris has that destiny ahead) and they’ll think I was a silly woman for having so much fun getting dressed while I was pregnant, but ultimately I want to inspire them to invest in what brings them joy, the thing that lights their fire. So whether it be veterinary science or astronomy or fashion design or music theory or delivering burritos, I hope they know that they have been an inspiration to me and I want them to follow their hearts.

White is my color. My mother has always told me “You look SO nice in white!”…she has also told me to never wear that mustard yellow that is one of the only colors I feel immediately drawn to. It sorta makes my olive toned skin look a little pukey. And that’s ok. I’ve mourned the loss of that hue from my general wardrobe and I pepper it in by way of jewelry and purses occasionally.

Meanwhile, I trash white shirts…and white anything…like its my part time job. Let me rephrase that…all my homies trash my white stuff. I am quite tidy and even cleanly if I’m being honest. I always loved having a clean room growing up and I enjoyed taking care of my things. But children change things.  Children change things about you that you didn’t even realize were alterable, things that you might even consider some of your most indentifying qualities. Gone. Poof. Like they never existed. They can cause you to question every part of your identity…and make you reassess what is important and for the most part…it’s good.

So there came a point when I determined that wearing a white shirt could only take place under a few conditions…

1.  I have to mentally go into the future moment in time when a child with peanut butter and jelly all over their fingers will embrace me or lose their balance and use me to stabilize or spill chocolate milk while I am within the splatter zone…and I have to slay the demon that would attempt to rear its ugly head in the form of a frustrated pre motherhood ️Autumn who is still trying to feel radiant in a white shirt. Her cranium needs to be severed off like that of Medusa. Then and then alone can I freely wear the shirt.

2.  With #1 as a consoderation…#2 basically states that the white shirt that will eventually make its way to my rag bin must be acquired at an ultra low cost. This one was purchased from Salvation Army and I had to sew a hole on a seam before it was wearable.

3.  The proper undergarments must be in place. I don’t care what year it is…and you can call me old fashioned (there are worse things to be) I don’t want to see your red bra thru your white shirt. I wouldn’t do that to you. Let’s just respect each other. 😉

Those gaucho pants were purchased from an American Eagle clearance rack. That store makes me feel old. Being 32 in a store that feels marketed to teen girls has that effect. I purchased these pants shortly after my 5th child was born and I needed to not feel like a huge slob but needed something loose and comfortable. As the pregnancy weight dispersed back to wherever I store it in between bouts of human fabrication, these pants became less of a self pity purchase and more of a “Hey, I forgot that I like these for other reasons besides just their fat hiding abilities!” Plus, they’re perfectly cozy to wear while sitting in a vehicle for 8 hours. And pockets. Just love pockets. I fill them with garbage and Chapstick and bobby pins and these pockets are nice and deep. Mmmhmmm.

Lastly, my most fashionable advice for today…

 DENTAL HYGIENE! It doesn’t really matter how cute your outfit or style is…and your simple, classy accessorizing won’t matter a bit if your teeth are rotten and gone. I speak from experience. Root canals are the pits.

Now please excuse me while I go destroy this white shirt with that pile of humans.

I don’t enjoy traveling. Mostly because I’m not a good transitioner. All you do is transition when you travel. Hi-speed transitioning for the non transitioner can be quite taxing. Sleeping in beds that are not your own…making babies and children sleep in beds that are not their own…NOT SLEEPING…finding food for 7 people while traveling…having a headache while nowhere near ALL the comforts that usually comfort one with a headache. We have also been notorious for being ill on the road. Not just under the weather…I’m talkin everyone wearing diarrhea-intercepting diapers and toting puke buckets.  Considering that Micah was puking less than 48 hours ago, I can’t say I’m feeling super encouraged this go round. I won’t even get into what traveling was like for me as a child…that’s for the therapists office, twice a month.  Let’s just say everyone just seemed angry to be involved. Overall, I guess it’s mostly the sleeping and the eating and the comfort thing. I just like what I like and I have it pretty well honed after 32 years and it just so happens to all be present at my current address. (I’m basically becoming my 92 year old grandfather…except it’s happening 60 years early…) Some would say my standards are low and that’s somewhat true. I’d say my standards are just my standards. Camping is somehow different for me than traveling. Camping is the grandest, most painful pulling together of every ounce of planning and organizing that I have in me so that I can sit in a camp chair around a fire and ALL my kids can be dirty while my husband warms up a sad pot of soup that I made days prior. That is worth all the packing and heart ache that goes into every camping trip for me. But let me tell you what traveling has that camping does not have. FASHION. I do so enjoy packing for a trip wherein I will not be sleeping on the earth or in a mouse gnawed camper and I won’t (hopefully) be handling any hot, wet marshmallows. 

Practicality is always in the forefront of every clothing choice I make (can I nurse a baby in this…? does this color hide snot well…? can I run after a child in this…? Is it warm while remaining breathable…?) I will take things traveling that I won’t take camping. 

Allow me to begin by  saying that I have been a fan of fashion since the very first garbage bag of hand me downs was dropped off at our front door as a child. I have four brothers and we had very little money…so hand me downs and thrift stores were all I knew of “fashion”.  I could get lost in the bags that came from the homes of other girls. “This is what GIRLS wear!” Girls that aren’t surrounded by boys. Girls that shop at real stores. Girls that use undergarments for things other than mucking out the creek bed.  

 
I am not always eager to share my love of fashion on the blog because some part of me feels a sense of shame attached to it. I feel that there are better, more honorable things to enjoy. Trouble is, when you are born…you don’t exactly get to decide what your likes and dislikes will be. I have been hesitant to really let on that as deep and complex and thoughtful and dynamic as I can be…there is also this side of me that just LOVES style! And accessories! And fabrics! And colors and prints! And a full skirt twirling and blowing in the wind!!  I want to be “above it”…but it simply is not so. So here it comes. The first delving into my fashionable blogging. 

I’ve read maybe 1/2 of 2 fashion blog posts in my life. They don’t really interest me because I know what I like…I don’t need someone else to tell me what to like or why to like it. It’s nice to have some help finding likable things, but otherwise I’m pretty sure of my taste and preferences. So I imagine I would show you what I’m wearing and then wax eloquently thereupon. And that I can do quite easily and I can enjoy it thoroughly.  While I am a thrift shopper to the core and maintained a vintage clothing boutique for a few years solely from scouring other thrifty establishments, there is something really nice about just purchasing a garment that doesn’t have a stain to try to tackle or an alteration to perform or just one detail that you kinda hate. It’s also nice to simply save all the time that might have been spent hunting through several thrift stores and just pay a few dollars more for an item. 

 
Let’s start at the top.  That’s a greasy bun that I used some dry shampoo on. When I’m all out of the dry shampoo my friend Mia makes for me, I like to use this coconut lime stuff from LUSH. It’s a greasy hair luxury. 

Earrings. These are the strangest pair of earrings I’ve ever purchased. I felt surprised when I found them and fell in love with them. There’s a little place in Manheim called the Gem Garden and it is my second favorite jewelry store. They always have this 3 tiered basket of clearance jewelry and that is where I fished these beauties from. I’m usually drawn to antiqued and filigreed jewelry…but these were something completely different. The best part…I put them on layaway with some Christmas stuff for Iris two years ago and completely forgot about them until recently.  Perfect for spring!  

 
That scarf. I picked that off of my friends Goodwill pile a few years ago when I was helping her move and it has been my favorite scarf to date. It’s all in the details.  

 
The Florida necklace. I found this necklace in a filthy church run thrift store in St. Cloud the first time I ever went to Florida.  It was $.50.  It’s just a fun, simple piece of jewelry that Max enjoys playing with.  

 
The Joshua Tree jean jacket. That little jacket has been a coveted MADEWELL item of mine for quite a long time. Like most MADEWELL products, it was far out of my price range…until this one popped up on eBay one day…for a fraction of the cost…Or Best Offer! I love “or best offer” because you get to test the waters to see just how desperate someone is to unload something. Let’s just say that I embarrassed myself with my lowball offer…and they just so happened to be as desperate as I’d hoped. My favorite detail, besides the softness of the denim and the large, accommodating pockets…is the throw back, rounded collar.  

 
This post would not be complete without a shout out to my girl Shelly Wolfe of Stella Blue jewels. She is my favorite jewelry store…if it’s possible for a favorite person to also be your favorite place…then Shelly has accomplished that. I have known Shelly for almost a decade and she is a master of her craft. She not only manufactures high quality jewelry, but she also has a gift for procuring the most unique and interesting treasures I’ve ever seen, most hailing directly from India and possessing all the mystery and magic of South Asia. She hunts tirelessly to bring the rarest and loveliest fabulousness to her clients. Fortunately, I am not only a client but I am also a friend. The benefits are ceaseless. Behold, the Love Bomb.  

   
The other necklace is the Brass Fluidity. I have learned to love mixing metals in the last few years. It’s like wearing navy blue with black. I used to think it wasn’t allowed, but it IS allowed. Do yourself a favor and check out www.stellabluestones.com. 

Speaking of navy blue and black…that cardigan is a Ralph Lauren and it is 100% linen. Do I even need to say more. Yeah, it had a 250 dollar price tag on it…but not by the time I found it on the TJ Maxx clearance rack for 15 bones. My favorite detail, the thicker elbow patches. Is there anything worse than a linen sweater with thinning elbows!?! 

 
The tee shirt. Let’s be real people. I don’t ride motor cycles or do anything with motors of any kind…but I do love a nice, well made, breathable cotton tee. Thank you Brooklyn Motors Repair Shop…for a superior product. 

 
The pants. Once again, MADEWELL for the win. Allow me to throw in this brief disclaimer…I have never purchased a single item of theirs that was not first on sale and then I sit around waiting for their few and far between 40% off sale. Most things I’m stalking are long gone by the time the sales and stars align…but these little cuties were some leftovers that I got lucky on. Unfortunately, the elastic in the ankles was horribly tight and I removed it for a much more relaxed and enjoyable trouser. 

I will briefly touch on my favorite socks that will only be in place until we reach the Carolinas. They are STANCE snowboarding socks that I got for Christmas and my favorite trait of theirs…plays off of a pet peeve of mine… 

 
The “L” and “R” on the toe of the sock ensure that my OCD can thrive and feel embraced…at least by the snowboarding community. And for the record…I do snowboard…occasionally…if I’m not pregnant or holding an infant. And conditions are important. I’m a picky snowboarder. 

Lastly, those shoes. They really aren’t anything to write blog posts about…OR ARE THEY!?  I bought my first pair of Birkenstocks when I was 15 and I have never looked back. I read in a magazine once that they are “birth control for the Germans”. Well, that has not been the case for Mr. Krouse and I.  Turns out, when your feet feel this good, lots of stuff seems like a great idea…like having more kids.  Five children later and we are still in metatarsal heaven. 

I will mention that if you know me at all or have ever seen me…then you probably also know and have seen my leather backpack full of diapers and snacks. As soon as I found out that our first child was going to be children (plural) I had a flash of premonition that both of my arms would me full of babies and a traditional diaper bag would fall off my shoulder and make me want to blow something up. So I bought the only backpack a girl could ever need. Custom Hide out of Arizona makes the finest leather products I’ve seen to date. While you could place an order today at www.customhide.com, that raunchy petina will require years and years of spilled cherry cokes and general abuse with a peppering of leather conditioners.  

 In closing, I would like to say that this was fun. More fun than listening to my kids fight over a gameboy from the early nineties.  Stay tuned for more Fashionable Florida Fun. 

P.S.  This baby is an angel to travel with. I’m not kidding.