Did I mention that holidays are way more fun with kids? It's true!
Here is our enormous little 5 month old sweetheart in his Easter finery! He filled every inch of this beautiful, beautiful 9 month old outfit.
My grandmother (his great grandmother... who incidentally goes by the epithet of "Boom-Boom") gave us this cherubic suit. I was melting into a puddle of love goo at the total cuteness. David didn't really grasp the appeal of pleats, hand-stitching, and a Peter Pan collar. When the first person who ran into us on the street said, "She's so cute!" I think it was an additional strike out... but he went with it... because he loves me.... and really, that's all I ask.... *wink*
(PS - Who would dress a baby girl in a blue suit with no ruffles, flowers, bows, ribbons or anything? OBVIOUSLY this is a boy suit. Ahem. Just my two cents.)
Our blue eyed boy... Everyone always comments about how bright blue they are. What a looker. Not sure where those came from, but I'm ok with it. But when teenage girls start ooing and awing over them a few years down the road, I'm probably gonna be a little momma-bear-y.
I literally can't explain to you how much you adore your own children. David said yesterday, "I totally understand why they say you have to avoid idolizing your own kids!" Is it idolatry that we skipped the homily to take these photos? We were running a bit late... he he.
Handsome just runs in the family. I mean... my hunky husband is just dreamy! And who can resist a sexy man with a baby in his arms? It's more powerful than a sexy man with a puppy.
And that's our fashion show...
Now I'm going to post "egg hunt" photos separately.
(Didn't have time to color correct or edit any of these photos... so consider this #nofilter -- haha)
Today my husband and I went to Sherwin-Williams and looked at paint swatches. Because it's a free date. Then we went to Home Depot and bought a $4.00 pack of light bulbs. Hashtag... "going out" with no money. haha.
I love this song. It makes me think of my husband. We just need to be together and we're happy. He loves the unlovable parts of me. He thinks its cute when I pitch a tantrum... which I do regularly. I laugh at his jokes, challenge his stubbornness, respect him. He would rather be with me than golfing... that's radical love.
We're so very imperfect... but we make imperfect work so very well. I always say, I think one day our kids will say, "My parents had one of the most beautiful loves." Two imperfect souls perfectly matched.
I know... I know why you come back to check on this blog... and it ain't my compelling writing style!
I'm ok with that. Here's more of the hunk you've all been waiting for.
Eames is weighing in around 19-20 pounds right now. He sings, talks, examines, kicks, wiggles, grabs, sucks, licks, laughs, squeals, and giggles. What he does NOT do is roll over, sit up, or anything else remotely physical. Heeey... he's comfortable with his body image. I get it. I don't sit up or roll over either, if I can help it.
Happy 5 Months my darling... we're exciting for 6... and did I mention that I'm already planning his 1 Year Birthday Party? Well of course I am! More on that later.
Last week my mom said, "When I'm defining my goals, I ask myself, 'What am I going to think of fondly when I'm 60?' Then I realized, usually you think of 60 as being the very far distant future... but it's only 10 years away!"
Wow, mom. You probably didn't think I'd blog about that comment...
Also, last week, I said to my husband, "I've done NOOOTHING (insert super, super whiny voice, tinged with desperation) and I'm Twwwwweeeeeenty-Fiiiiiiiiive..."
When I was 12 my goal was to publish a book when I was 17.
When I was 17 my goal was to be a college professor by the age of 29.
When I was 20 my goal was to be a snappy business woman by 23.
At 23 I realized that The Tortoise and The Hare was speaking to me... slow and steady, Blair, slow and steady. So I decided 30 was my golden age and I would be insanely successful with a bevy of beautiful children on their way to adulthood by 30.
Now I'm 25.
Oh muh gawd. My husband kindly reminds me that I'm probably over a quarter of the way through my entire life span. Thanks buddy.
What have I done? Books? Master's programs? Business ventures? No. I graduated college only to re-enroll as a second-time-undergrad in a different field... I got married... I finished college again... I had a baby. And every morning I wake up and say, "I'll never let my dreams shrivel on the vine!!" Never ever ever. No way jose. I will not let LIFE sweep me down the same current as every body else. I'm going to make my dreams come true come hell or high water or Spanx or nursing bras or mortgages or negative nancies or forehead wrinkles....
It is sinking in that the lesson I'm supposed to take away from all this is that failure to achieve the goals I set at 12, 17, and 20 were not failures so much as redirections. They were doorways I didn't fail to open, but simply passed by on the way to my true purpose.
But I'm going to continue to live every day like "A Woman of A Certain Age" who is running out of time, who doesn't care about blundering, who ignores the nay saying and goes full throttle I'm going to continue to live like age 30 is the falling axe... This motivates me to go crazy nuts bananas every week pursuing my goals. But if I start to look like my life is over, just remind me... plenty of people live on after 30... example: your mother.
Kombucha. It's like soda that's good for you. Bubbly, sweet, tangy... and magically healthy!
I got hooked on it in college when I had no mortgage and some disposable income. This miracle juice costs almost $4-5.00 per bottle. Small bottles. Yipes! Necessity is the mother of invention... and come to find out, you can brew your own at home. As long as you're comfortable with a gargantuan pancake slug growing above your refrigerator...
Ok, not a slug... just a Symbiotic Colony Of Bacteria and Yeast (SCOBY for short). This colony munches on sugar and ferments the tea creating an effervescent (bubbly), tart drink full of probiotics, gut healing, and general goodness. Not many things this good for you taste so fantastic. When I drink this tea I don't crave and snack. I don't get gassy. I'm much better at portion control. 'Tis a miracle drink! So I'm going to attempt to brew my own.
Step One: Jars. Well washed and nostalgically beautiful. P.S. My stove isn't dirty... its just approximately 60 years old.
Step Two: Sugar!!! We sprang for some unbleached, unprocessed cane sugar. Delish!! Tastes like cinnamon toast crunch + molasses + joy + happy memories at grandmas.
Step Three: Tea... black or green. No herbal. I chose a super flavorful sweet ginger peach because it just seemed to scream SPRINGTIIIIIME in a mellifluousness baritone.
Step Four: Store bought Kombucha for "starter tea." I love GT's brand. It's best to use the Original unflavored kind.... at least that's what I hear. This being my first time and all, I may not be qualified to give advice.
Step Five: Get a little cloth and some rubber bands ready... it's a sweet sugary drink to start out, so you don't want any hungry little fruit flies getting into the goods.
Is this even a step? Seems too easy... but I took the picture, so there you go.
Step... what are we on? Baah... I forget!!
Anyway, the last thing you do is just boil it all together. 1 cup of water. 1 tablespoon of sugar. 1 teabag... or more if you want stronger tea. (I used extra sugar because I like sweet tea!) Put it in the jar and pour in the whole bottle of Kombucha. Then set it away somewhere warm and out of direct sun...
And forget about it for two weeks.
Yes... 2. Count 'em. TWO.
Ew? Um... did you see the first picture? We're growing a SCOBY here, people, not baking a cake. =)
I'll be posting pictures of our progress a few days from now. Check back later to see what this Mad Scientist cooks up.
People consistently tell me I'm very fashionable. Usually they sort of snarl it in playful detestation, like, "Oh gooosh! I hate you! Guuuurl...."
Here's the truth....
My socks never match.
That haze in the photo is my belly.
I chose to stand on this flower because the other one had a hairball on it. I haven't picked it up yet.
Speaking of hair... mine is falling out in hand fulls. Not baby handfuls.
I lost my mascara... I put it in my diaper bag and the bag ate it!! No seriously...
Well, wherever my mascara went, it isn't on my face. Ever.
This morning after nursing my baby, I went to get dressed for the gym. When I saw myself in the mirror I had flashbacks of those black and white "old time" photographs we all took in high school... where you dressed up like a loose Western bar maid (aka prostitute) and acted drunk with a rifle on your hip. (That was one of the most risque moments of my high school career... definitely the closest I ever got to sex.) I looked just like that! My hair and long necklace had been pulled lopsided by baby's busy hands, my bra was hanging out, my shirt was half buttoned, my face was a wreck, and I had a string cheese stick (breakfast) halfway in my mouth like a cigar.
I feel like I need to do "Speed Blogging" because there are so many different things in my brain.... here goes:
1) Post-Pardum Depression is hard to talk about because I get embarrassed after I get it off my chest and want to delete my whining from the universe.
2) I hope I'll be awesome one day... but I secretly think I'll be sort of lame forever.
3) I'm afraid of judgement. Not the fire and brimstone kind. Just the quiet, snide, "browsing through the facebook feed and thinking, "pssh... retard", half-eye-roll, deep sigh kind of judgement. I mean... I am so afraid of judgement... I mean.... I am SO afraid. It is pathetic.
4) Guess what... I'm embarrassed and I want to delete all of that now that I've gotten it off my chest.
5) I'm a happy, extroverted, ambitious, bubbly person who occasionally has problems with over-sharing. Except when I'm slightly depressed... then I'm a slightly depressed, extroverted but lonely, ambitious but mostly failing, bubbly but mostly tired person who occasionally has problems with over-sharing.
6) Why are women complicated?
7) It's the age of the internet... everyone vents. It's not like the old days when breaking forth and sharing your feelings with revolutionary and poetic. You're just another mope.
8) When I write this stuff I'm constantly thinking, "Crap, I'm leaving an electronic footprint behind me... no one will trust my professional image/brand with all this over-sharing... I'm an idiot."
9) I'm also thinking, "All my friends who have it 'together' are thinking I'm an idiot for doing this too."
10) I know that Success is really more of a feeling than an actual thing. I'd like to be successful now. And I'd like to be successful-er down the road. I have a feeling this is a long, dark rabbit hole.
PS - Nobody reads this crap, so I could write whatever the heck I wanted... my "digital foot print" is more of a silent tip toe in the sea of over-eager bloggerites... I wish I was bigger and above all of this. lol. I'm so typical. haha!