Jesse Spano or "I'm so exciiiiiited!"

I didn't really notice what I'd put HJ in until I showed up at playgroup and the mamas were all "Yes! We were just talking about the 80's!"







And yes, she's chewing on a cloth screwdriver. What of it?

We've got company in town for the weekend, so these past few days were spent furiously cleaning our pad, turning our office into an actual office (well, and soon-to-be sewing room -- gulp) and the downstairs bedroom into an actual downstairs bedroom instead of, uh, cc's second closet.

It's kind of fun to suddenly have two new rooms and floors that sparkle. Makes me want to fling out my arms and get all Julie Andrews in a field. Or maybe just Jesse Spano too hyped on caffeine pills?

Happy weekend, frandz!

Shopping with bubz

Tony Chestnut is getting kinda unwieldy, guys. She's 18.5 pounds and semi-long and likes to flail and headbutt and lurch. So the babywearing has slowed way down. Clay still wears her in the Bjorn when we shop together, but my weak sauce back just can't take it anymore.

And so, we have entered the world of sitting-in-the-shopping-cart. Pretty much the germiest thing ever, though I do try and temper it with that sassy little jungle safari number. (I probably put it in wrong.) Of course, she grips the unprotected side handle first and licks her hand second, so...yeah. There's just so much a mama can do.

And hey, my-family-members: Doesn't she sort of look like Gram here??

Oh uh, did I tell you? **(Now with video!)**

The Biscuit is crawling now.

Batten down the hatches.

Gird your loins.

(Pictorial documentation to come soon.)

I've hat it

Thank you for all the get-well-soonz aimed at my pickle. Thursday and Friday were purty rough, Saturday things got a little better and today she was definitely on the mend. As of now (*knock on forehead*) neither cc and I are sick. 'Course that could change at any moment...

While HJ sniffled, I knitted. (A slouchy beret thing for me, out of bulky yarn.) And forgot just how much I lurved it. Now this isn't to say there weren't some bumps along the way (read: me screaming "I'M NOT DOING THIS ANYMORE!" and throwing my needles dramatically to the ground), but I'm super proud of myself for following a pattern and learning lots of new skills off the YouTubez. 

And dudes! It actually came out like the pattern foto! Christmas miracle.

I considered showing off the hat myself, but realized I had a much cuter model available.

(And people -- my cousin Christie, specifically -- if I can knit? Then so can you. Srsly. I'm so spatially challenged, I forget how to fold our stroller a few times each week. Dooooooooo it.)

Oui oui I am so hip.



Dramatic chipmunk!



We'll prolly be up all nite

Because our poor pickle has a nast-ay cold. Sniffles and snots and a tiny cough and red, watery eyes. The goopiest sad clown you ever did see.

It's her first time being sicky and she's mostly looking..confused/cute. And/or coy, as seen in the running-eye (not tears! just weirdness) picture below. Off to "sleep" for the night!

Backyard pool party (for one)

So they tell me the weather in Denver starts getting nutty soon. (I guess last year there was a snow storm on September 22nd? Ex...excuse me?)

I'm readyFreddy for cooler temps (don't think I won't put HJ in some baby Uggs I WILL), tho...snow? Maybe hold off on the snow?

While we wait for the ice to hit, I'm trying to fit in as much outdoor time as possible. Sunday I ran the hose and stuck Biscuit's walnut bum into the coldness. She's seriously a good sport because after a little shiver, she got into it -- splashing, eating grass, eating grass, and then eating some grass.

I...thought I told you to take a shower, dad?

LOOK AT THAT BELLY. *inhales*

Some pictures and some wordz

She is my pixie imp buttercup pickle. And that hood/ear combo is giving me some pretty killer LOTR Halloween costume ideas...







Our backyard tree. Half green half yellow half autumn half summer. Feels like the air should be nippy on my nose, but I'm still wearing cutoffs and blackened bare feetz.





Confession: I've tried and tried to make H her food, but it just isn't my bag. (I guess I still am "making H her food" with the whole uh chest area, but -- you know.) Buying Earth's Best shiz off Amazon? That is. Now I just need a project for all those baby food jars...

Today I:

Took the morning shift, starting at 5:50, but took a long nap to make up for it. I dreamed about hairdye and bedbugs and baby vampires. (Sidenote: the last Twilight book? IS THE SUCK.)


Chubby hands squish some cantaloupey.


Walked the farmer's mark with BabyGirl. I know I should buy produce there, but...it always goes bad before I can use. So instead I bought a body sugar scrub that smells like Lemonheads. I'll probably sneak a bite so maybe that counts?

Went on a naked wagon ride. Well, BabyBum did. I pulled her. I think naked wagon rides should be mandatory for all those under...3.

Ate one of my pumpkin and maple cupcakes. They're okay. Still haven't nailed altitude baking yetz.

Cursed the kitchen sink for being so full of terribleness. I pinky promise myself every week it won't happen again, but it does it does.

Watched the Cowboys lose again and marveled (again) that cc has been able to do this football fanship thing for so long. Isn't it so upsetting?

Put H in the baby tub outside and watched her splash and shiver because I made the water too cold.

Wondered why they don't make more baby kneesocks? The shorties just fall off and litter my floors.

Watched the leaves turn yellow, but the air stay scorching.

Remembered all those Sunday nights dreading Monday mornings because cc flew away to different cities. And smiled big because he doesn't anymore.

What'd you do?

Sometimes Mcdonaldz is okay

Listen. I try and eat only the good stuff. HJ definitely only gets the good stuff. But sometimes? Sometimes I really need some McNuggets. With honey mustard sauce. And a small coke. And a small fry.

Especially when it's one of those days (most days) when I've barely eaten anything past a glass of OJ and a cup of tea and we've been running errands and she's napping in the back and I'm about to pass out and there isn't much in the way of nourishment awaiting me at home.

After placing my order today, the dude told me I should "go ahead and get the Happy Meal -- it'll save you a ton of money." I'm not quite sure 50 cents is exactly the stuff fortunes are made of, but hey! Appreciate the tip and hey! Free toy.

Wasn't sure what it was, exactly, till we got home and I unwrapped it. And huzzah! My Little (seriously little) Pony! Childhood recaptured! I was thrilled, though Ham wasn't quite sure what to do with it.

Pink...nappy...hair. I don't get it.

Oh. Duh. I eat it. Thanks, Mickeydees!

Just this

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.

Guys. I really have to stop calling H every-other-name-in-the-book-but-Harper.

Sure, I guess, the Biscuit and Chesney and Chammy are okay. The real problem lies in the "Booger Butt" and "Bum Crack" and "Nutter Nut" because...not nice sounding?

And because when it's time to blow out the candle at her first birthday party (of which I'm quite certain I won't throw -- I'm nothing if not anti-social) and everyone is calling "Harper! Smile!" and she won't look at the camera, but then I sheepishly mutter "Ham Sammich Laroo Snot?" and she whips around and smiles? That will be...awkward.

End of the day

 


The hours of 5:00-6:30 are so weirdly exhausting. My face sort of looks punched by then.

Today was no exception. Busy, though in a nice way.

This morning = Bumcake and I were strolling toward the library for storytime when another mama passed by and kind of blurted out (when she was almost by us): "Areyougoingtobookbabies?" We were! And we did. And we sat together and had all these ohmygodmetoo moments over staying-at-home and nursing-past-6-months and dude! We live on the same street. And her munchkin lady is only a month older than H. It's lurve.

This afternoon = Lady bi'ness appointment. I'm going to a midwife practice now for well visits because, well, not to get too personal, but I want some non-hormonez berf control and regular doctors look at you blankly upon that request. Plus, this place is super cool and right across from a hospital and the only real birthing center in the state. So, when the time comes (NOT NOW NOT NOW NOT NOW) I'd maybe like to do my baby thang there, too.

Later this afternoon = Babyfriend and I were close to cc's office. So we swung by and showed her off and she was so happy and smile-beaming to be with both of us middle-of-the-day. It was awesome.

Later later = Pumpkin spice latte.

Evening = Start black bean and pumpkin soup. With H in one arm, squirming and spitting up prune juice.

Now = HGTV and ice chewing and Indian stylez.

Apparently 7 months is the I-enjoy-the-sound-of-my-own-whining milestone

Because oy. The whining. It kills.  H spends much of her day in the crawling position.  Just hovering there, rocking back and forth. Thisclose to jamming forward without collapsing on the tum. Which, I can imagine, feels incredibly frustrating. So she lets me know. Frequently.  

But then I give you this little smush face.

And I pout my cheekbones. And raise a brow.

And drink away your troubles and my whines.

I can still wear pink, tho -- right momz?

Can you...please not interrupt us? The Rangerz are beating those damn Yanks.

cc and I may have followed some rah-ther strict gender roles this weekend (Me: picking up crazy things at yard sales -- weird old cookbooks! strange baskets! creepy politically correct puzzles from the 70's! --, baking, strolling the farmer's market, feeding-a-baby-with-my-bod. Him: assembling furniture, watching football, cookin' meat in our new smoker), but Biscuit wasn't following along.

Her weekend wardrobe consisted of a Batman shirt (oops! no pic...I'll get one next time) while her activities included prune juice burps (WHY IS SHE THE ONLY PERSON ALIVE THAT PRUNEZ DON'T DO TO HER WHAT THEY'RE...SUPPOSED TO DO HER?!) and watching baseball with dadz on our new (but old) recliner. We all remember how she doesn't like to live within a specific gender construct, right? Girl just rolls how she rolls, yo.

No words needed, really

 

Mover shaker

 

Because my shirt is green, everyone thinks I'm a boy. This makes me frownz.

I'm in trubs. Gfry is very...mobile these days.

Which is a good thing.

But makes my life harder.

But makes her sleep better.

So I'll take it.

Oh and that crazy contraption? All the playgroup mamaz have one. And since I'm hosting tomorrow for the first time and our toy stash is a lil subpar...I gave in.

I have no idea what it is.

Cookalooka

  

When Clay's home early (or it's the weekend), I can actually cook like a person instead of a tornado. Look! I made pilez! (Mushroom and lemony and cheesey parts for pasta courtsey of Sir Jamie Oliver Lovebutt.)





I LOVE APRONS. I want to own enough of 'em that I can just strap one on in the morning and go about my bi'ness. My friend Caroline made me this one back in the day. Still one of my favorites. Today it got covered in pears while I made, well, pear bread. I think HJ needs one, too.

I have some cutiebutt 7 month pictures but

My comp is jacked and I can't get 'em uploaded tonight. But yeah! Bumsauce is 7 months young! Bananas, no?




Rockin the sipsip, one-handed stylez.

Imp pantz

Gfry is such a little imp.

Sometimes? No naps. And my hair stays a grease bucket.

Sometimes? Three hour naps. And we get to eat lunch with both hands.

Always? Rainbow turkey legs I munch on.

(p.s. If ya'll want to see more of our house, instead of the random pieces revealed here and there, check out my guest post over at Navigating the Mothership -- one of my favoritest blogs. I'm showing off the digz!)

Waiting for the library to open

These little chubby danglies belong to a sweet punkin baby. She sat patiently, watching a little boy run up and down the ramp, waiting for the book doors to open.




(Thanks, Mackenzie for those delicious shoes! Was so excited this morning when I realized they fit. And when I realized it was actually chilly enough to wear them yeeeehaw fall!)