Thursday, April 28, 2011


in other news, are you watching the royal wedding?!
i've got it set to record, but i hear it's 6 hours long, so i make no promises.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

lessons in motherhood.

01. an office chair that swivels is just as useful as a rocking chair when calming a fussy baby.
02. and when said baby falls asleep in your arms it is best to avoid eating crackers. unless they're 'sweet home sour cream & onion' crackers and then it's worth it.
03. it's also worth it if nursing makes you so hungry you can now eat more than your husband who is 9 inches taller than you.
04. so if that's the case, then just chew quietly.
05. except it's not really possible to chew a cracker quietly so you should probably just stop eating them.
06. it is also not possible to capitalize while holding a sleeping baby in a swivel chair and eating crackers and typing one-handed at the same time.
07. also, typing one-handed takes a really long time and probably isn't worth it.
08. come to think of it, you should probably just set the baby down already and get out of the swivel chair.
09. unless your baby is as sweet and adorable and squish-able as mine...
10. then don't.

the end.

Monday, April 25, 2011

ladies who laugh.

This video G took of us is making me so happy right now. She's starting to laugh and I can't get enough.

dear life.

Dear Stinker Woman: Remember the days when nothing could stand in the way of you and your beloved naps? Remember how I would lay you down, kiss your mouth a few times, turn on your soother and LEAVE? Remember that? And you would close your blue eyes and snooze for an hour or two? Remember?! What happened?!

Dear Eyeballs: If my baby sleeps 10 hours at night why do I constantly feel like you're going to FALL OUT?

Dear Boobs: Am I still nursing in the middle of the night without even realizing it? Do I just sleep walk through the whole thing?! I am really starting to wonder because the exhaustion I feel every morning has got to be caused by something.

Dear G: I can't believe you got up at 5am to run this morning.Was it worth it?? I never want to come with you.

Dear Snickers eggs: How is it possible that you each contain 150 calories? How is it possible that I ate 4 of you this morning? How is it possible that you taste so good?

Dear May: You better provide sunshine and warmth or I am boycotting Spring all together. Seriously, this is a joke. And tell your buddy, April, that we're pissed.

Dear Target: Why do you have the ability to suck all of the money out of my wallet and send me home with a cart full of things I don't really need. I need to get over you.

Dear Royal Wedding: Just happen already!

Dear J bubba: I don't know why you swallowed a fly. Perhaps you'll die.

Dear Monday: Mondays are for suckers.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

easter sundee.

Easter weekend has been nuts!

We've discovered we are much more in demand now that everyone knows this little girl goes wherever we go. She flirts and smiles and suddenly the invites are rolling in.

The Easter bunny certainly stopped by our house this year and our newest chicky did not go without. He (she?!) brought our Evie a new swimming suit, a chirping chick and summer sandals, among other things. And you didn't hear this from me, but I'm pretty sure the Easter bunny stole already purchased items (tags still on!) from Evie's closet in order to assemble her Easter basket. And guess what, she never caught on.

That Easter bunny is sly.

Ps. I hate peeps.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

girlfriends in stripes.

Sometimes I dress Evie and I the same.
Sometimes I do it completely subconsciously.
And then, other times, I think I do it on purpose (shhh....)
This time I did it subconsciously.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

my hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me!

so won't you kill me
so i die happy

my heart is yours to fill or burst
to break or bury
or wear as jewelry
whichever you prefer.

I've been listening to Dashboard Confessional all afternoon.
Yep. That's right. I'm admitting it.

Why, you ask? Because it reminds me of High School! It reminds me of my friends! It reminds me of drives up the canyon and meeting at the park and Wendy's runs late at night. It reminds me of football games and Prom and sleepovers at Holley's house. It reminds me of pool hopping and cards on the front lawn in bikinis. It reminds me of boys and good times and sneaking out the basement window (Sorry, Mom!). It reminds me of being young and stupid.

a few of my friendliest friends. some of these girls climbed out of those windows with me.
It brings back good memories, okay?! What songs do that for you?

month three.

Look at you, Evie girl! 3 months old!

That means that together, you and I have survived 3 months of poop, pee, diapers, outfit changes, laundry, spit-up, throw-up, projectile vomit, tears, nap-times, bed-times, sleeping-through-the-night-times, kisses, open-mouthed kisses, drool, thumb-sucking, snuggling, rocking, holding, swaddling, fingernail-clipping, bathing, lotioning, singing, reading, medicine-dispensing, check-ups, up-chuck-ups, car-rides, story-times, bath-times, play-times and, of course, lots and lots of great times.

I have changed hundreds of diapers. You have soiled every piece of clothing you own (which explains this, um, eclectic? outfit you are wearing. Don't ask.) I have learned how to locate your binkie in the backseat and get it into your mouth while driving a car and texting at the same time (kidding! jeez!). I have learned that you love it when I sing, you love it more when I "shake-it". You think I'm hilarious. Your Dad thinks I'm nuts (but maybe a little bit hilarious, too, right G?).

I know how to soothe you, how to calm you, how to hold you, what to say. I know what you need, regardless of that fact that I leave the room and let your Daddy work it out sometimes. I know how you feel. I know what makes you happy. Your eyes follow mine when I leave the room.

I call you Evie baby, Evie girl, Evie Janie and lovey dove. I call you itty bitty and dovey girl and stinker woman, when you're being just that. I call you goober and lady and buggy (are you getting confused yet?). He calls you sweetie. He calls us his girls.
We both call you Ev.

I call you the best thing that has ever happened to me. I call you the love of my life.

I call you mine.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

more mirror pictures. woop!

Today I...
  • Got Evie's Easter basket assembled (as well as mine & G's which are currently hidden. And G, don't even try to find them, because you will fail miserably).
  • Finally finished all the projects of yesterday, including the 3 month closet clean-out.
  • Found some new music.
  • Listened to that music all day long.
  • Followed a homeless guy who was wandering around Target talking to himself in order to figure out what he was saying. I never figured it out. Gibberish, I say.
  • Read some Mommy articles.
  • Went for a drive.
  • Taught G the proper way to wash a mushroom (they really don't need to be washed, if we're being honest).
  • Cleaned. Of course. There is never a day in my life that doesn't include cleaning. You, too?
  • Worked on extending those darn naps.
  • And took a much needed nap, myself.
It was a good day. A better day.
And now my love is home and he is cooking me dinner.

Happy Wednesday.

the thumb.

The thumb has made it's way into the mouth.

She did this in utero and then seemed to forget it was an option until recently.

I'm supposed to see this as a problem, right? The other day, a lady from my ward was holding her and noticed that she was sucking her thumb and proceeded to pull it out and say in a stern voice "Oh, no you don't!"

It kind of broke my heart. I mean, does she realize how long it took my baby to actually get that thumb inside of her mouth?! It is no easy task! I realize it's a bad habit, but when she finally succeeds after 10 minutes of trying, I am totally cheering for her.

So, I guess what I am trying to say is, I really don't care. If the thumb is still entering the mouth when she's a teenager, well then we have a problem.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

a long day.

Yesterday it rained all day long.

Usually, the rain makes me feel cozy, romantic, happy.
Yesterday, the rain made me feel restless, instead.

Yesterday was the kind of day where Evie woke up early from every single nap.
Which would have been alright, except I had this overwhelming desire to get lots of things done.
So, I ended up getting lots of things partially done, instead.

At the end of the day, I couldn't help feeling like I'd started everything and accomplished nothing.
I felt a bit useless.

And then, Ev decided to hate nursing (she does this sometimes) which, after an hour, left me fighting back tears. So, I picked up my fussy baby, swaddled her tightly and put her to bed, empty stomach and all. She quickly closed her eyes and settled into sleep-giving me the free-time I'd been craving for the past 4 hours.

I thought about everything I could finish.
The laundry.
The cleaning.
The dishes.

I thought about the couch, about relaxing for a while.

And then I thought about my baby.
How she'd been impossible all night; crying for no reason, refusing to eat, for no reason. Sad, for no reason. How I'd accomplished next to nothing that day.
I thought about her for a while and then found myself back in her room.

I stood above her crib, watched her sleep.
I watched her eyelids flutter softly.
Watched her breathing, steadily, in and out.
Felt the contentment of a peaceful baby, grateful for sleep after a long, full day.

And then it came flooding back to me.
That feeling, that reassurance.

The one that tells me today was well spent.
Today was meaningful, important.
The one that reminds me that despite the messy house, the mutual exhaustion, the fussy baby...
I did something good today.

I watched my sleeping baby, and I was reminded that this is all I've ever wanted.
A rainy day, an endless afternoon, a fussy evening.
A long day spent being a Mom.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

recently- the phone dump.

01. a rare early evening alone- downtown.
02. evie girl attends her own shower.
03. first time to all of church. and a little bit of spit-up.
04. cool pattern on my birthday skirt.
05. ev meets sadie jane.
06. sunset on my favorite drive home.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

who said bloggers don't post bad pictures of themselves?!

This is why. 
This is why I don't have any good pictures of me and my beeb together and am forced to try take them myself while bending my elbows in ways they don't bend.
time: 6:55 pm
place: my living room.
occasion: Mother, Mother & baby all dressed up about to attend a baby shower. Woop, woop.
my thoughts: "Oh, look, we're all ready to attend Evie's last baby shower! And look! Evie is in a dress and she hasn't pooped on it yet! And I showered today (twice, almost!) and my Mama is here! I want a picture of this!" (could you handle any more explanation points?!)

So, I hand G the camera and say "Babe, love of my life, dearest husband GJO, please take a picture of us"

And he takes the camera from me, snaps a picture, looks at it and says "done".
And i think to myself "swell", but ask him to take a few more, for good measure.
And then I come home hours later and look at the picture.
You know, the picture he originally snapped.
The one he thought was the picture
And the picture is this picture. 
This picture!

 Luckily, I also found this picture:
and I suppose this picture will do.

Ps. I wrote this entire post in all lower case letters and then realized it and had to go back and capitalize because I am now too crazy to accept a lower-case post in my life. Fun, fun.

a bad case of "the wants".

Ugh, "the wants".
"The wants" are a problem.

I blame "the wants" partially on the internet  (yes, that means all of YOU! I blame it on you!)

Here's the thing. My little home is decorated. Or at least, to me, it is decorated. We have lived here for several years now and during that time I have painted, arranged, re-arranged, collected, thrifted, changed, changed and changed again in order to make it a place that feels like home.

And it does. It feels like home. I love the letters and photo collages on the walls and the trinkets and odds and ends. I am utterly OBSESSED with the windows and natural lighting (we have discussed this, yes?). I like our bedroom, I like that I have hundreds of pillows everywhere (and more in storage, mind you). I like my collection of cookbooks stacked up on the shelf. I like my cake stand on the kitchen table. I like the Costco flowers in coke bottles. I like it here. I feel content here.


I like this little home until I see your little homes and then I'm like, "Why didn't I think of that?!" and suddenly my wheels are turning and my fingers are itching to re-arrange and G is like, "I swear if you buy one more throw pillow I am making you SLEEP IN THE GARAGE!"

Not really.
But, soft of.

We could build a small castle with my collection of throw pillows.
We could turn a swimming pool into a lounge area with my collection of throw pillows.
I do not need anymore throw pillows!

Except, I really need these throw pillows.

And also, a headboard.
Because we don't even have a headboard and isn't that gross?!

I don't know what's wrong with me. Can the rest of you just decorate until it's furnished and then STOP? Why do I feel like I will never be done decorating? Why do I feel like my taste will forever be evolving? Why do I feel the need to sell everything I own and start over every 45 days?

I seriously think I have a problem.

Monday, April 11, 2011

10 things.

  • 01. I miht be the world's worst sleeper. It usually takes me at least an hour to fall asleep at night. Longer if G and Evie are both asleep and rubbing it in with their loud rhythmic breathing (no fair!). I blame my insomnia on my chatty brain, which refuses to shut up once the stars come out.
  • 02. I let my hair air-dry and then proceed to do nothing with it every single day. And no, I haven't "let myself go", I've been doing this for years and years and don't plan on changing anytime soon. Blow-dryers are over-rated and I like natural wave and curl. Also, I am lazy.
  • 03. I hate confrontation. I am a good person to get mad at or start a fight with, because unless you are my Husband or my Mother I will absolutely apologize immediately, regardless of whether or not I think I am right (G and Jana don't have it so easy).
  • 04. I have recently discovered that I lick my lips. I have been completely unaware of this habit for the past 24 years and am still unaware of it now, which makes it a pretty difficult habit to kick. Impossible, really, so don't judge!
  • 05. Most of the time I am an animal lover, but every now and then I question that. Like last night, when a cat spent the better part of the night outside our window howling like she was being skinned alive. At first I wondered what could possibly be stressing (or hurting) a cat so badly and I felt sad for her, but after a few hours, I just started wishing for her to DIE ALREADY.
  • 06. I can't be happy in a messy house. Period. End of Story. I have tried hard to overcome this and just chill out and play regardless of mess, but I just can't and I'm sorry. Give me 10 minutes to straighten up my little home and I will be delightful and non-neurotic for the rest of the day. Promise.
  • 07. Speaking of that, I will admit to being deceptively clean. If you pop in on me in the afternoon, my house will probably look clean, but don't open a cupboard or a closet if you want to help me keep up the illusion, because something will most definitely fly out at you if you do.
  • 08. I don't like to craft. There, I said it. I tried really hard to like crafting last week (it seemed like the thing to do) but my attempt was unsuccessful. It's messy. Really messy. And when you finish you end up with something that looks exactly like a craft. 
  • 09. I am trying hard to incorporate Capital Letters back into my life. I forgot about them (on the blog, at least) in the middle of my last semester of college when I was so buried in essays and papers I wanted to die. The blog was a way to rebel- but unfortunately, the momentary rebellion turned into something more and now I am afraid for myself-hence Capital Letters, once again.
  • 10. Sometimes I shower for the majority of Evie's morning nap. I always sit down in the shower (which is a tub, too) and sometimes I doze off. This is a bad habit that is still alive from my early mornings in High School, but it's dreamy and you should try it. It also might be exactly what I plan on doing as soon as I hit "publish".
There you go.
10 things for your Monday.
Would love to hear 10 from you, too.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

ella and evie.

 evie and her cousin, ella.
they are 7 weeks apart.
their daddy's are twins.

i hope they share many adventures and secrets over the years.
and when they fight (because they surely will)
i hope they make up quickly.

*i wish i could have gotten better shots of both of their beautiful faces, but ev was looking at me the whole time & ella, of course, was looking right at her mommy.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

photo flop.

Besides the pictures Linds took for us, me & Evs don't have any photos together. Partly because I am the picture-taker in the family (G and Evie have 10 million) and partly because G has a really amazing talent of taking the ugliest pictures of me possible. Anytime I ask him to take a picture of us he refuses to get up to do so, so we end up with a picture of mine and Evie's double chins. Pretty great.

Yesterday, I tried to remedy this problem. I'd showered that day and my baby was happy, so a photo shoot was had. Let me tell you, getting a picture of you & your baby is not easy. We had maybe one semi-acceptable photo of the bunch when I finally just gave up and took pictures of her instead. After all, she's never taken a bad photo in her life!

Here is the pretty girl all by herself. She is my favorite thing ever right now. I've decided I need to clone her so I have two copies. Real Evie can go on and grow up, but cloned Evie will be shrunken down to polly-pocket size and not be allowed to grow any further. And then I will carry mini Evie around in my pocket for the rest of my life as a tiny baby.
Think about it. It could work. 

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

my thoughts about infertility. and trials. and other things.

Can I tell you that I really debated sharing that letter I wrote yesterday. I have a private blog that only Greg and I can see, where I usually publish letters and personal thoughts and I almost wrote that letter there instead. I didn't want to seem like I was trying to say, "My life is perfect, my baby is perfect, my husband is perfect and this isn't even hard" because I hate when I get that vibe from other blogs I read and I don't think that helps any of us.

Sure, I've had some success with Evie by following the advice of my friends, sisters-in-law, cousins and Mom (not to mention  Babywise!!) but a lot of it is just her and we struggle in other areas. For a long time I was really frustrated because Evie loved to sleep more than she liked to do almost anything else. She would fall asleep after 3 minutes of nursing and refuse to eat any more. And then she would get dehydrated and become even more tired and we would wind up at the Doctor's office (again) for the 3rd time in 3 weeks. I agree with my cousin, when she said it is hard to always know what the right thing is to do. There have been times when my instincts told me one thing and a nurse told me another and I haven't known who to listen to. I am slowing learning the answer to that question (instincts!) and trying to trust that I really do know what is best for her.

It's not always easy, but I really do love being a Mom. I love it despite the spit-up (or in Evie's case, the projectile vomit that sticks to my hair like glue), the nighttime fussiness, and the constant exhaustion (yes, I still manage to be tired, which is pathetic and I have no right). I love it despite the fact that babies cry. I try to remember that I spent a lot of time before Evie was born wishing for her to be healthy, for her to be well, for her to have mature lungs that would allow her to cry and fuss like a baby should. I spent many nights praying for a baby who could cry and I try to be happy and grateful and remember that when my prayers are being answered and she is wailing.

Rewind even further and I try to remember that I spent lots of nights praying for a baby, period. I am one of the many many women who struggled to get pregnant, and although I didn't feel comfortable writing about it at the time (at least not here), I am realizing how important it is to talk about that. For some, getting pregnant is a simple task. You ask for a baby, you receive a baby, end of story. I asked for a baby and I received humility, patience and increased faith to endure the trial of not having a baby, instead.

I learned so many things on my journey to motherhood and it wasn't always an easy road. There were times when I felt forgotten and alone and then so many others when I felt strengthened and supported by so many who traveled that road along with me. If I learned anything from the experience (besides patience and faith and more patience and more faith!) it is that the Lord gives us experiences that are difficult, in part, so that we can help others when they find themselves in similar situations. When I wanted a baby and couldn't have one, nothing made me feel better like the advice of someone who had been there or who was going through the same thing, so I hope that I can be that for someone else now that I am on the other side looking back.

I don't really know where I am going with this post, but I have just been thinking about all of this a lot lately. All of us have our own personal struggles and times where we feel like our lives aren't heading in the direction we feel they should go. We also have those moments where we realize that we are exactly where we should be. I think our trials are a blessing for so many reasons, but especially because they serve as a reminder to be happy and grateful and present in our lives when we finally come out the other side and feel good again. They serve as a reminder to appreciate those moments of peace and contentment before our next growing experience begins. 

I don't have it all figured out, but I do know that this is my moment of peace and contentment after wanting a baby for so long and then wanting a healthy, full-term baby for so long. I am savoring every minute of it, regardless of the fact that it can be hard. I am remembering that this is what I prayed for all those nights and I am trying to appreciate the fact that now I am struggling with other aspects of my life, but I am no longer struggling with that. So no, my life is not perfect, nor is my baby perfect and my marriage can always be improved, but I am still grateful for all of it because it is mine.

Monday, April 4, 2011

month two.

Dear Ev,

Today I feel like writing you a letter. You are 10 weeks old! Where has the time gone? Part of me feels like it has all flown by and the other part of me feels like I've known you and loved you forever, which makes sense, because I have. Now that you are here, I simply cannot imagine my life without smiley, giggly, happy, adorable little you.

You are 10 weeks old, but you don't yet weigh 10 pounds (9 pounds 7 ounces last we checked) . You are 10 weeks old and still fit best in things that are labeled "newborn". You sleep 9 hours at night, from 10pm to 7am (bless you!) and you finally love to nurse. You are 10 weeks old and a complete delight.

Your little life is busy and you spend it smiling. You are a happy baby and so easy going and content. I don't like being home all the time, so I have tried hard to continue to go out and do the things that make me happy and I am so grateful that you will go with the flow and let me drag you along. You have gotten used to taking your nap in your carseat, or in your stroller, or at Nana's house, if that's where we are. Although you are flexible, you love your schedule and follow it religiously. If I am even 10 minutes late putting you down for a nap you will surely let me know that "it's nap time!" and you'd like to go to sleep now! You don't like to be  rocked or bounced when it's time for bed, you just want to be swaddled and put down and then you will close your little eyes and happily fall asleep, without all the fuss. You remind me so much of your Dad in that way.

Speaking of your Dad...he adores you, but that doesn't surprise us, does it? He calls to check on you every day and tells you he missed you every night. I love what you have done to him, Evie. You have changed him. Suddenly he sings songs and changes diapers and is the guy in the restaurant feeding a baby a bottle. We both knew that parenthood would be hard and require a lot of energy, but I don't think either of us could have anticipated how happy it would make us. You make us want more babies now and could they please all be exactly like you?

I wish I could tell you how much I love you. I don't know how. My Mom used to tell me that I wouldn't understand how she feels about me until I had a baby of my own and now I will say the same thing to you, because it's true.

I don't know how to describe that feeling, so I will say this instead. For a few days last week, you weren't feeling well. We aren't sure why, but for some reason you were throwing up every day. I would nurse you and try to soothe you and sure enough, eventually you would throw up in my hair, down my shirt, all over my outfit, with tears streaming down your face. By the third day I had a mountain of laundry to do and had taken at least 10 showers. Your Dad jokingly told me to stop holding you so much. It would make more sense for me to put you down after feeding you and wait for you to throw up in your chair rather than all over me. It made sense, but it didn't happen. No matter how many times I ended up with puke in my hair, I held you.

Being a Mom feels like that. Regardless of the situation, I want to be the one holding you. If you have to throw up, then I want you to do it in my arms. I want to make you happy, make you feel better. I want to be the one who wipes your tears and makes you smile again. I want to be the one who is cooped up in this little home with you, covered in your spit-up.

I will always be here for you, baby girl. There is no where else for me to be.