Holy Smokes, Henry's 1 year old

I remember every detail of the day I gave birth to Henry. That first cry and that slimy first hug. I remember his first smile and his first laugh, held so tightly in my heart. I remember the first time he crawled, the first time he devoured a banana, the first time he gave me a big open mouth kiss leaving drool on my cheek. It all feels like it was just yesterday. This is has been the most incredible whirlwind year, full of some of the most wonderful moments I could ever imagine. 

And now, my little squish is a year old! He's a full blown toddler, climbing and standing, babbling and being stubborn, learning his animals and making messes. He's not a baby anymore. He eats like a beast, and is absolutely present in every moment teaching us to be excited about the little things in life. 

So because I'm a first time mom, my son is amazing, and I love a good excuse to eat cake and have people over, Henry had a fun little birthday party last weekend. He doesnt have any 1 year old friends yet, so we invited a bunch of ours over. I did my best at being crafty and made the decorations, and have the hot glue gun burns to show for it. 

 He ate cake. Lots of it. A good time was had by all. I'm so proud of the little boy he has become, so excited for the adventures we have ahead of us, and a little sad for the baby moments that have passed. 

Hoping for hundreds more afternoon naps that I can sneakily peak in at him. 

Too Slow, Too Fast

Have you ever felt like a day is slowly creeping along? Or that there just isn't enough time? Have you ever felt both in the very same day?

This is motherhood to me. 

There are days that I am just counting down the minutes to Henry's bedtime, until I can start our routine of dinner, bath, nursing, books, bed. Starting that routine feels like the light at the end of the tunnel on some days. Once he's asleep, I usually find I have too much to do and there is very little down time. Once I've gotten him to bed, I straighten up the kitchen, which after Henry's explored, usually winds up with dishes and boxes of crackers, bags of rice, and pots and pans strewn across the floor. For my sanity I put everything away. Make us dinner (or send James out to hunt and bring home mexican food), eat dinner, clean up from dinner. Then get to folding laundry or organizing the bedroom or any other combination of household tasks. It usually winds up being 9:30 or 10:00 once I'm done, and by that time my brain is fried, I'm achey, and writing or working on projects is the last thing I want to do. 

It's endless. 

I could totally go for some "me time." A pedicure, an afternoon out at a cafe to focus on writing, getting a sewing project done, repurposing furniture, building planter boxes, painting the mailbox....argh.  I can't even think of more than a few ways to relax before getting back to the household tasks. I am so out of practice when it comes to relaxing. 

But it's a labor of love. The belly laughs, sloppy kisses, and snuggles kind of make the daily grind seem like a small price to pay for all that is awesome about my life. 

And considering its closing in on 10pm and a complete shutdown of my brain, this will be a rather short post. 

The circus has landed

Deep breathes, deep breathes.

We moved! Happy face.

While our 8 month old was teething with his very first tooth. Sad face. 

My life is now a demonstration of emoticons. Each emotion lasting all but a few seconds before another comes by. And by the end of each day I end up looking like the emoticon with two big eyes and a straight line as its mouth. An exhausted, emotionless, unfocused mess. Mess as in a physical mess. Wearing these weird sweatpant material awkward length shorts, a bright green t-shirt, and smelling like I bathed with a dirty baby.  And here I am...looking at the kitchen which is in a state of disarray as I snack on the "hidden"stash of dove chocolates that James put in a cabinet that I forgot about for a couple of weeks, only to be overjoyed by this (sort of) new discovery. But only because I earned that chocolate. I cleaned up a mashed avocado, the pots and pans that I stubbed my toe on, and the hot chocolate packets that lay all over the floor because our wonderful 9 month old obviously has the nose of a drug sniffing dog to find that powdery goodness. Unopened thank god. End scene. Repeat nightly. And then remember the 12 hours prior that make it all worth it. 

Anyway, things are finally calming down here, after a couple of weeks of life being a circus. I'm trying to convince myself that it's calmed down even though there are a couple of mounds of laundry and unpacked boxes right behind me. In the kitchen. Oh and the entire house is covered in dust because of the work being done. The number of times I have swept, mopped, vacuumed, and swiffered has been deemed pointless. Not that anyone is counting but it's got to be in the hundreds. I forever resent the floor installers who were sawing in the house. Ffffffff. 

I can't grumble too much because we found our "long-term" home. Long-term for us is probably 10 years. We live in a great neighborhood, with an awesome elementary school that we can walk to, a safe area, an incredible view, plenty of space, and a strong investment. Everything lined up and things fell into place.

*As you can see by parts of this post, specifically the mention of "our 8 month old" and "our 9 month old," this draft to completion took me a month. We do not, in fact, have a second mystery baby. I have about 6 drafts staring at me with this weepy look of incompleteness.

hello! hello? uh...hello

Made by our wonderful friend for the little guy!

I'm finding that it is getting more and more difficult to write. Writer's block of sorts. Maybe pregnancy and baby hormones are blocking the clever writing part of my brain. And then I wonder, maybe my life just isn't interesting enough to write about right now. But that's not so. There are things that happen everyday that make me laugh, scoff, or think. Things I would love to share. However I seem to have lost the ability to formulate paragraphs and sentences and stories. Instead all I can do is just blurt out what's in my head. 

So that is what I will do. For my sake, not so much yours. But perhaps, you'll still take pleasure in the happenings that I think are worth sharing. 

My chest is growing at a ridiculous rate. I had already gone up a size in the first few months, and just this week I had to get resized at the wonderful VS. My husband joined me but stayed in tow as we walked through, looking for a lady with her tape measurer. She measured and says that I am now a 36D almost DD I reflexively look at my, seemingly out of place, husband and raise my eyebrows. As soon as they whisk me away to a dressing room he shouts over to me, "I will be out there," pointing to the outside of the store as if it is some place of safety. I couldn't help thinking, a D almost DD? Holy cow! This is why my XL sports bra is a little snug. And it explains the sudden stretching pain I sometimes feel in my boobs when I roll over at night and gravity seems to be tugging them in the opposite direction. Oh poor boobs. 

Speaking of boobs, I have just discovered that my dictionary.com app on my iphone pronounces words when you look them up. It has kept me quite entertained to say the least. My favorites thus far are Poop and Boobs. The lady so eloquently says them, it is such a conflict with the words themselves that I can't help but snicker like a four year old. Try it, do it. And tell me good words to look up. 

Have you guys heard about the nearly 1 million photos of NYC that have been released? Old photos that they have spent years digitizing. They are amazing. And there are so many, here are some that I've seen so far that are amazeballs. 

http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/index.cfm

http://digitalgallery.nypl.org/nypldigital/index.cfm

The baby is the size of lettuce this week apparently. 26 Weeks pregnant, and the end, or beginning, is coming closer and closer. I've been doing pretty good at keeping my pregnant self active. I walk a 3.5 mile loop atleast 3 times a week. It's been going pretty well and I definitely feel good after I've gotten that exercise in. I also got my teeth cleaned last week. And I shower on a daily basis. All said, I'm doing pretty good at keeping myself up, ya know, not withering away into a messy blob of pregnant lady. 

This bee was creepily watching me make dinner from the outside of the window last night. Shiver. 

the best part about being a grown up

I know it's easy to say, "Aww how I wish I was a child again. Life was so simple and easy back then." Or maybe not so eloquently put, "F*ck this, I'm tired of being an adult with all these adult worries and stress and shit." I'm sure we've all said/felt/thought both of those. The dread of present troubles and the pleasure of the good old days. 

I've always loved being an adult, don't get me wrong, some times have been stressful and crazy, and filled with too many responsibility-filled decisions and choices, but, seeing as I don't like being told what to do, being an adult has been pretty kick ass. So here's some reasons why...

Mr. & Mrs. when we were munchkins

1. Getting to be a kid whenever you want. You thought we had to let go of childhood when we became adults? Aww, quite the contrary, we can chose to be kids whenever we want. I can play, I can goof off, I can be hyper but I can also then chose to be mellow and thoughtful. As a kid, we have no control. We are just nuts. 

2. I can have whatever I want for breakfast and eat my dessert and dinner in any order that I like. 

3. There is no "bedtime." Which means I can go to bed as early or as late as I like. Maybe it's 8pm and I am ready to snuggle up and fall asleep. Maybe it's midnight and we are playing video games, that works too. 

4. Being able to say bad words...unless of course, your mom reads your blog and you censor out your F-Bombs. 

5. Choosing where to go on vacation. As a kid we went on a road trip from San Diego to San Francisco. We had two chihuahuas at the time and couldn't leave them home so they joined us on this monstrous drive. Two, whiny, little dogs for hours upon hours. As an adult, I would have never chosen to do that. I probably wouldn't have chosen to have chihuahua's either. But I was a kid, and so my fate it was.

6. What's for dinner, is a question we no longer ask others, but one we ask ourselves. Such an open ended awesome question with no right or wrong answer unless you are on some crazy diet that allows you to eat only purple foods, or meat with no carbs or whatever else exists in our world today. We just read about the African Mango and how it's super good for weight loss. You have to order it from Africa. And you have to eat tons of it. I like food that I don't have to ship in and wait a week and a half for. And as an adult, I can chose to eat the African Mango or the homestyle baked "grown up" mac & cheese. 

Mr. 2009

Mrs. 2009

Why do you like being a "grown up"? 

Why I love being married...

...much more than dating.

1. I get to shave my legs less frequently. Not like, it's-winter-let's-grow-out-our-fur-coat-for-warmth kind of less frequently, just not everyday. It's a pain in the ass really. All the bending over and lathering up and balancing on one foot. Are we circus monkeys or something?

2. I can eat my In & Out grilled cheese as messy as I like. Yeah so what if I like to line my grilled cheese with 2 packets of ketchup and a stack of french fries inside. So what if it becomes a drippy mess. I can lick my fingers and make slurping noises if that's what it takes to enjoy my meal. Because when I look to my left, there's my husband, his face is covered in IN & Out goodness and his lap mat is a savior. We smile, and say just that...I love you. 

3. I don't have to "watch my language." I'm a very well behaved date. Well, WAS a very well behaved date. Manners, politeness, cautious swearing. But soon there after, I loosened up and revealed my true self and guess what? My husband didn't run. He actually still liked me. So much so that he married me. So now my lips flow freely with whatever my spirit is moved to say.

4. I dont have to order salads and water when we go out to dinner. I can order actual food. I don't have to pretend to be that super healthy skinny girl. Now when we go out to dinner, we order just what we like. We have no fear of the judgements of eachother or of the effects of digestion two hours later. Which brings me to number 4. 

5. I'm not afraid to go to the bathroom, #2. It is what it is. At some point you just get over it and realize you can't keep denying that as a woman you don't...i'm dreading saying it...poop. My intestines and my stress level thank me greatly for the acceptance of being human. And my husband for never saying anything like, "Oh my gosh you poop? Ugh I only date girls who don't do that. You are so human! You mean you can't just not do that?" Which apparently used to be my fear. Frightening I tell you, the things that go on in my head.

6. I become smarter and gain worldly knowledge. No that doesn't stink of sarcasm. [Or does it?] I now have a deep understanding of the recruiting, ranking and occurrences for most University of Michigan sports. I can now quote The Simpsons. My inner-geek has been released with our kindred love of superheroes. It once only existed because I loved RDJ as Iron Man, now I have a well rounded appreciation and adoration for all super heros. 

So, I guess what my head-shakingly-sappy self is saying is, it's pretty fucking amazing to be able to just be me. I'm so imperfect it's ridiculous. Not having to hide all of those things [from my husband at least] is a pretty sweet deal. 

6 Months of awesome. 

05.07.11