Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Harps gets serenaded

We get a little out of control in this family with the sing-a-longs. Harps shook an almond-filled container and looked in awe at her uncle. She loved it, but note to self? Save the concerts for earlier in the day or she'll take a bajillion hours to wind down and fall asleep. (And please excuse my obnoxious mama giggle.)

Monday, June 28, 2010

All dwe-thed up

Lookin sha-hp for my aunt and uncle's surprise 40th.

In love with those rainbow leggings, a hand-me-down from the cuz.

Sorry, but isn't she getting rather delicious?

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Harps' version of a wine cooler on the beach

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Wednesday, June 23, 2010

Happy on the right coast

Sitting on the porch, sunny pushes in the stroller, snuggles with Grammy, and first skinny dips. Life is pretty alright back East.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Monday, June 14, 2010

Doh. Nut.

Sunday was a good day around these parts. Well, the first 4/5ths of it anyways. Bedtime was...interesting. But we're focusing on the positive, peeps! (Originally typed as "pees" since that's what is currently covering the mattress cover and sheet and bouncy chair and my thighs and I can't think straight above the stench.)


We all woke up a few before 7 and snuggled sleepily for a bit. Then Clay said the magic words:

 "Would you like me to take her so you can sleep?"

and I screamed politely answered:


Well holy dude, I woke up some time later, rolled over to peek at my phone and what? 10:00?! My boobs confirmed the time was correct. (You know what I mean if you know what I mean. If you don't -- you're lucky.)

Pulled on some sweats and scurried out to the kitchen, where I a) saw a clean countertop b) heard the dishwasher running c) SMELLED DOUGHNUTS.

Drool pooling in my mouth, I looked for my family. Neither Bisque nor Clay were in sight. A peep around the corner saw my babe happily cooing in her exersaucer. I scooped her up and ate her face, soothing her furrowed brow. Because it was obvious she was really missing me. *cough*

So yeah. Extra sleep, clean kitchen, and doughnuts. Pretty much my perfect trinity of perfect.

However! Lovely day or not, I have now consumed 5.5 of the 6 doughnuts purchased and I'm feeling...a tad...doughy. I don't buy them for myself because, as you can see, I can't stop. They are my unsafe food. So I'm very sorry, Michaela, if I'm unable to fit in the bridesmaid dress come Saturday. Blame my husband?

What are your unsafe foods, friends? (I also can't be trusted around spaghetti.) (It isn't pretty.) (Or clean.)

Saturday, June 12, 2010

The best things in life aren't things however

They can still be purty fun.

Yeah yeah, I know said I was sticking with the truck and Clay was getting something else. But we're all about insane back-and-forth car declarations in this household. Eventually, even he could not resist the pull of the Mighty Subie. And so it was! Uh, is.

Dude's gonna drive the truck and the Mama Mobile is now a kick ass Outback. I learned how to drive on a Subie (maroon, zero get-up, automatic), graduated college driving a Subie (light blue, Allston resident, stick shift), and here I am once again -- driving a Subie (light grey, 3.6V, delicious). I'm in love a duv duv.

*drives to the mountains, singing James Taylor*

Friday, June 11, 2010

This (very shaky) video is mostly for my brother

Also known as Uncle T.

But I also like it because it looks like I'm letting Harper drive a la Britney. (Don't you miss her crazy days??)

This was post our nursing session in a one stalled, no-lock bathroom in Starbucks. With a quick top up in the car. (You can see my quick did-I-button-my-shirt? check) Ah, the dignity of nursing.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Humble piez

I'd just written mama-to-be Kalen an email, begging her not to keep baby-to-be in the carrier seat all the time, like those "women in target who strap their baby into the baby seat and attach it to the cart and tool around and ignore them. booooo."

Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into Whole Foods with a sound asleep baby in the back of the truck. If I moved her into her stroller, I wouldn't be able to push both it and the food cart. (Still working on harvesting that third arm I so desperately need.) If I woke her up and put her in the Bjorn as planned, she'd be missing out on precious napsleep and be miserable. So, uh, I put her on the cart and, uh, tooled around Whole Foods.

As I was paying up, I snapped the shaky shot above to send to Kalen. Because of all the advice I like to throw at her (sorry, frand!), this is probably the most important: As a mama, you have to eat your words about 12,876 times a day. It's...pretty fillling.

Wednesday, June 09, 2010

Slow days

Other than our doctor's appointment yesterday, Harps and I haven't gone anywhere this week. We've got a big trip a week from tomorrow with lots of to it (flight to NYC! lots of wedding festivities! train to Boston! car ride to Maine! etc etc etc), so I'm trying to keep this week super low key and restful.

But good God, sometimes low key and restful = OUT OF MY SKULL BORING.

There's just so much we can do together.

We've got the reading of books.
The singing of songs.
The tummy time'ing.
The Bumbo bumbling.
The naps in my arms.
The naps in her bouncer.
The naps not in her crib.
The walks in the stroller.
The walks in the Bjorn.
The checking of the mail.
The sitting on the balcony.
The sitting and staring into space.
The picking at her cradle cap.

And all of that gets done before noon.

Sometimes, I swear she looks at me after I've gone pee and come back into the room, and sighs. Like really? You again?

If you can't tell -- we're still on the hunt for pals. *talks to myself*

Docta and pixie

So we love our new docta docta. Perhaps he's not (half) as handsome as the last, but he's a lot less too-cool-for-school-look-at-my-surfboards. He's young and has a 6-month-old baby lady, so he's really in tune with what's typical for Harps' age. And whenever he had some advice to give, he'd preface it with: "But this is just my take on it! Do what works for you!" It was nice.

Lil Junebug Bucket is still in the upper percentiles of growth (mostly in the 80's) and ahead of the game with her toe touches and rolling over. Woot woot for hardcore tummy time! She'd rather chill somewhere else (my arms), but mama forces her onto that playmat all day long. I'm like a really boring gym teacher, with only one game. Anywho -- I liked getting the props for her acrobatics, as it didn't come easy! (Read: many, many tears.)

As for sleep, sounds like I've trained her to eat too little too frequently. Common issue with breastfed babes and hopefully, since I'm attacking it early, shouldn't be impossible to fix. It will take time, but I'm confident we can gain some extra hours. Might not be for a month or so till I can really tackle things, since we've got a big trip back East planned as well as moving to the new house (IT'S ALL I THINK ABOUT), but yeah. I feel better about my future zzzz's.

And last night, extending a small olive branch to her sleepy mama, Harps fell asleep around 9:15 and slept till 1:00. Not bad! 'Course I woke up in a sweat, convinced the BFG had stolen her because I hadn't heard a peep. But progress, progress.

In other news, I'm sort of becoming obsessed with the idea of a pixie haircut. My thin hair is so limp and ick these days and gets greasy just from the effort of making coffee. Plus, Harps pulls on it all the live long day. No, I'm not breaking out the pleated jeans and white tennis shoes (though I am jonesing for some old school Keds) with a stereotypical soccer mom look -- I'm talking super super short. Thoughts? Yes? No? Am I insane? Halp.

Monday, June 07, 2010

Totally confused

Where in the world did the past four months go? I mean...huh? That picture above is Harps on her way home from the hospital. It seems like yesterday, truly. But also, oddly, I feel like I've known her forever and ever. Strangeness.

Tomorrow we've got her four month check-up with a new docta docta. I have a feeling his eyes won't be as blue nor his teeth as shiny as our SF dude. Sigh. I probably won't even bother looking cute.

Curious if she's stayed in the upper percentiles of growth and ready to ask some questions about sleep. Because people. I'm trying not to dwell on it, but she wakes up every two hours all night long. There are no 4 hour chunks, let alone 5 or 6 hours. So yeah. I know he won't have any magic answers for me, but I guess I'm looking for a "It's normal/it'll get better" reassurance. Here's hoping.

And yeah. Shots are in order, too. Gag a maggot!

Sunday, June 06, 2010

Solo Sunday

The Harpsichord in rare form.

Is yet another weekend really wrapping up? Time is flying lately. Woosh woosh.

It was a good one over here. Yesterday we enjoyed a sunny day at a friend's baby shower, last night there were sushi rolls topped with strawberries, blue Fla-vor Ices for dessert, gummy grins for a nightcap.

And this morning, Clay offered to take Harps on a little daughter/dada field trip to check out some bikes. (For him. She may be toe-touching, but bikes are at least a few weeks away.) At first it sounded glorious! Free time! And then it sounded terrible. Free time?!?! My belly actually turned all fluttery and weird and I started squeezing her all nutjob-like. She can be a real nightmare in the car, so the thought of her sad without me there made me want to die. But I knew I was being ridiculous -- that a) Clay's superdad with her and b) I really needed some alone time. So I said yes.

As they walked down the hall to the elevator I had to force myself away from the door and back in the apartment. There were many awkward deep breaths and hair tugs. (Not what baldy needs.) Before I could vomit, I threw on my bathing suit (ONE PIECE) and ran down to the pool. I had to do something other than pace the halls and mop up my puke.

And you know what? As soon as I hopped in the water and started kicking, I relaxed. I was alone. By myself. Sans...anyone. I pushed off the edge, blew bubbles out my nose, and smiled underwater. I followed up my dunk with a sun soak (haven't done that in ages -- babes and sun don't mix) before heading back upstairs to our balcony. I grabbed a muffin, poured some coffee, and read my first New Yorker in a long while. (You're welcome, David Remnick! I know you miss my readership.) It was heavenly.

They still weren't back, so I headed to the back room for a little snooze. I was packing a whole day of leisure into 2 hours!

They still weren't back, so I ... started to lose it.

Clay had checked in a couple times, so I knew they were alive, however -- was she flipping out? Would Clay pull over if she really started screaming? Did she forget who I was!? Was she slowly starving to death?!

The only thing I could think to do was clean. Clean clean cleaNCLENACLEANCLEANNNN. Swept and swiffered the floors. Started a load of laundry. Sorted through old mail. Wiped down the counters. Threw out old leftovers from the fridge. Organized the bathroom vanity. I got so desperate that I folded our laundry. If you know me, you know this means I was nearing nervous breakdown levels.

However! Just as I folded that last pile of undies, I heard the door click and my two favorite people strolled in. Calm, quiet, all grins. Apparently they had a lovely time -- cruising around, shopping, buying us some lunch. Turns out baby acts happy in the car when she knows mama isn't there to fulfill her every whim. Who knew!

Moral of the story? Trust your baby daddy or you'll end up folding his boxer briefs.

Friday, June 04, 2010

Soon I'll look like her

No joke, guys. I had just weighed myself and done a little happy dance because the number was a pound lighter than my pre-pregnancy weight. Thank you kindly, nursing/carrying-baby-all-day/genes/no-time-to-eat! Things don't look exactly the same as before (it's all still a bit...soft) but hey! It's not like I was a bikini model before. (I suddenly have a tiny -- very tiny -- amount of sympathy for those mamas who were.)

So I hop in the shower, feeling pretty dang good about myself. Get my hair wet, pour some cucumber shampoo in my hand, lather up, feel the hot water on my face, PULL OUT FIVE POUNDS OF HAIR.

I am not lying.

Well, it might not have weighed five pounds. I'm not sure anyone's hair weighs that much? Even in its entirety? But whatev. You know what I mean.

I guess I should change it to FIVE FISTFULS OF HAIR.

Because that's what it was. Big chunks and clumps and handfuls of my innocent locks.

I knew this happened to other postpartum ladies. But nope nope nope not me; I truly thought I'd escaped the shed. Turns out it doesn't kick in till around 3 months post-baby. So just as we're starting to regain some normalcy to our appearance, we get hit with the bald stick. For shame, hormones!

And that massive loss was only Day One -- which happened about three weeks ago. It hasn't stopped since. I try and clean up after myself, but there's just so much I can do. The end of the first week, Clay got into bed at night and asked in a scared whisper:

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Because it looks like I'm dying of some mysterious illness, where all I want to eat is cupcakes and fake margaritas.

But I am okay. Just bald. And tired. And squishy.

Enjoy your weekend, those-with-hair! (And those without. I'm just a little less jealous of you.)

Thursday, June 03, 2010


I forget how to spell it because I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS ANYMORE.

Tough few days (weeks?) over here in the sleep department, folks.

Gotta go attend to my screeching babe.

I'll get through this. Right?

Wednesday, June 02, 2010

This little piggy

So apparently babies turn almost-4-months-old and suddenly become little people! Who do things!

Harps is cracking us up these days with all her little tricks. She's a pro at grabbing things (rattles, iPhones, book pages, MY HAIR), tummy time, rolling from tummy to back, scooting toward things she wants, flirting with herself in the mirror, and chatting up a storm. But my absolute favorite?

Toes = candy.

Tuesday, June 01, 2010

Biscuit in the basket

Hi! My name's Clay and my wife likes to make my eyes look crazy. (And my name's Harper and I'm starting to look quite a bit like my Dada.)

We've got a bunch of babywearing devices 'round here (Moby, Native, Ergo, Comfy Joey, Bjorn) and while each one has its purpose, it really comes down to whatever Harps wants to hang in at the moment. Because lemme tell you -- there is NO forcing her into something she's not feeling. I've almost lost an eye doing that and sorry, but -- I'm quite fond of my eyes.

She definitely goes through phases. For the past month or so, she only wants to face OUT. So that hundy plus I spent on the Ergo? Not worth it just yet. (I think she'll dig it when she can hang out on our backs in a couple months.)

We were borrowing a Bjorn from our pals in SF, but had to return it when we moved to the mountains. But very lucky us made some new pals here in Denver and we got another Bjorn loan. Score! Thank the lawd because she really, really loves it. Today, I was able to shop Super Target*

(*OH MY GOD SUPER TARGET. Have you BEEN!?!?!? Super cheap/cute apparel AND homegoodies AND tons and tons and tons of grocery options? I'm all about organic/local/small shopping, but there is seriously something to be said for 12 different Jell-o flavors, no? But I got so flustered and overwhelmed, peeps. Sweat was pouring and I couldn't even decide on an ice cream flavor. Next time, I will be victorious!)

for over an hour, while she just hung like a happy kanga baby, making the occasional coo when I passed by something she liked. (Milk.) So useful. And, dare I say, cute as 4 dozen buttons?