Jane Goodall

I think being a mom is a lot like being Jane Goodall.

What?  Huh?  What could I possibly mean by that?  Well, I don't mean that you are looking at gorillas all day long.  But I do mean that you spend a lot of time watching non-verbal creatures act out behaviors and you try to assign some sort of meaning to those behaviors.

Take this for example:

To the untrained eye this just looks like a baby trying to crawl.  But not to me.  Nope, to me this is something entirely different.

Let's look at it a little differently.

Really, the secret is all in the left foot.  See how it is bent outward? This means he is not trying to crawl since his feet always stay under him when he crawls.  It also means he is not trying to stand since he gets up on his toes when he is trying to stand. 

Another important factor is that he is playing with his blocks (or the box the blocks came in).  He prefers to play with these when he is sitting.

What, you just had an eureka moment?  Well shout it out loud for everyone to hear.  Again, and try it a little louder - we are mostly paesans reading this thing and we can get loud (yes, go ahead and throw the stereotype flag... and then shout it out).

This is a photo of my baby try to get into a sitting position from his stomach.  I know, he is a genius (see the post from earlier today). 

Well, he is almost a genius.

See that gigantic orange arrow on his forehead.  It's pointing to a goose egg that my baby received when he was trying to get into a sitting position from his stomach and he face planted directly in to his blocks.

As for the little orange arrow.  That is a random red mark on his head.  He is so fair that his head gets covered in these things.  It's the way of the jungle... I know this because I am Jane Goodall.

On another note, the highlight of my day today was changing a stinkoppotomaus diaper in the back of my Prius in the Target parking lot.  I highly recommend a hatchback for any new moms.  It really comes in handy.

Enjoy your weekend.  Next week we need to chat about my doctor's appointment (I know, I never got around to it this week) and what I'll be doing Sunday... tune in next week.

Smarty Pants (aka Mr. Monkey Pants)

Okay, I've accepted it.  Apparently my baby is smart.  I don't know how people know this since he will still chew on my dirty toes, loves wet paper towels, and freaks out over plastic bottles... but this is what people say.  At first it was my husband and I thought "Well of course he will say that, Evan is his offspring."  Then it was the grandparents and since grandparents think their grandbabies poop gold I didn't put too much stock into it.  But yesterday, at the grocery store, a complete stranger stopped to ask me Monkey's age.  I told her Monkey is 8 months (I know... 8 months old... yowsers) and she said, "Your baby is very smart." 

Again, I don't know what prompted her to say that since at that moment Monkey was leaning out of the cart trying to grab on to a bag of flour.  This moment though was better than when I parked the cart, went to grab something out of the freezer and when I turned back around Monkey was about to pull a bottle of beer out of a six pack.  Or when I turned my back in the produce department and he almost had the entire bin of apples falling on top of him. 

And all I can figure out is that smart means getting in to everything... I mean everything.  And now that he is semi-mobile (with the rolling and the army crawl) he gets in to things I never would have thought about.

For example, here is Monkey playing with a rug.

At first he rolled himself up in it. By the time I got the camera he decided he wanted to play with it differently so he wiggled his way out of it and backed off a little.  He started to grab the edge.

Then he decided it was time to go after that flipped over piece of carpet again so he got ready to crawl.

But, turns out that when he tries to crawl on concrete all he does is push himself backwards and his feet fall out underneath him.  (Look at the confused expression, he can't figure out why he doesn't go forward on the concrete... smart?)

But, the real reason he is smart is that he can wrap his mother around his little pinkie.  Because once he realized I was taking pictures of him, he did this:

And I offered to buy him a Porsche, make him homemade sauce, and cut off the crusts on his sandwiches for the rest of his life.  It's the lopsided grin, it's irresistible.

I know, you want to hug him... but remember the pain (I'll tell you a little secret... the pain is worth it).

Love Hurts

My baby has learned how to hug.  I'm never quite sure if I'm making stuff up or not until someone else verifies it for me (like how Monkey sings himself to sleep in the back seat of the car - my mom heard it too so it's real).  And the only reason I know that the hugs are for real is because I heard my husband say last night, "What the heck is that all about?," and when I looked over Monkey was hugging.

Now, before you get all gooey and you want a Monkey hug yourself, let me explain something... Monkey hugs hurt - a lot.  I'm not sure where Monkey learned to hug (maybe from Def Leppard - little pop culture for you children of the 80s... and if you weren't a child of the 80s, Def Leppard sang a song called "Love Bites" about how painful love is... fabulous power ballad) but it is not a pleasant experience.

There are basically 3 phases to the Monkey Hug.

Phase 1: He bombs his head towards your face and wherever it lands it lands.  Often this results in a bone on bone collision or a bone on your glasses/lips/nose.  I believe this is his version of the cuddle.

Phase 2: He flings his arms somewhere above your shoulders and around your neck.  This is the least painful phase, it all depends on whether or not I've cut his nails lately (and since I've made him bleed twice the likelihood is that I haven't cut his nails lately).

Phase 3: He grabs a fist of your hair and pulls... hard.  For you short-haired or straight-haired people this phase is probably not as painful as those of you with long curly hair.  Because the long curly hair he can grab, twist, and pull and his little fist stays all balled up in your hair.  For everyone else his fist will just fly off of your hair.

And that is a Monkey hug.  Incredibly adorable and incredibly painful.  I love it and fear it at the same time.

In other news, last night Monkey said "ma ma ma ma ma."  I know he was just making syllables but my heart skipped a beat anyway.

Coming and Going Home

It is so nice to visit my childhood home. And it is so nice to come back to my home I’ve created for my family.

As we were waiting in the airport last night for our plane to arrive and then waiting on the tarmac in Atlanta for a gate to open up I started thinking about how going home always brings up such conflicting emotions. To “organize” these emotions I started a mental pros and cons list. And, since I’m a blogger, I’ve decided to share this list with you (because that is what is what we bloggers do, we share with you what is in our brains whether or not it seems interesting to anyone but us).

Pros:

• Seeing family. And, more specifically, seeing Monkey with his extended family. It warms my heart when he plays with his cousins or when his Grandparents, Aunt, and Uncles swoop in for a cuddle.

• Seeing old friends and their new children. I’m so lucky to have a friend who isn’t high maintenance (mostly because I’m really bad at keeping in touch). When we see each other we pick up right where we left off. And, she has the most adorable children, one of whom is enamored with “baby Kevin.”
• To go along with the first two bullet points, there are so many people around, I get a break. There is always someone willing to hold the baby, play with the baby, feed the baby, etc. I think on the flight home was the first time I was able to snuggle with my baby.

• Being in a house. A house with lots of windows, fresh air, and rooms that separate you from other people (all of this in contrast to the loft).

Cons:

• Coming home to a house with no food but tons of laundry. The food thing I get, before I leave I always clean out my fridge and take out the garbage. But the laundry thing baffles me. I do laundry at my mom’s house, how do I have so much to do here?
• Missing my cats. Remember them? The other members of my family? My four-legged friends really get a bum deal nowadays but I do miss them when we are gone.
• Feathers all over my clothes. Really this bullet point is for my mom, she gets it. Oh, I see, you want to get it too. Well, I’ll share with you, but you will soon find it really isn’t that exciting. My mom has these fabulous pillows on her couch. They are gorgeous, but feathers pop out of them all the time and seem to really like me. I just found one on a shirt I pulled out of my suitcase.
• Travel. Monkey is really good on airplanes and in airports, but travel still stinks. The packing, the lugging, the security… and did I mention I lost my license? Don’t worry, we found it again, but a word to the wise, don’t stick your only state issued id in the back pocket of your diaper bag because it will probably fall out when you put your bag on the x-ray belt and you probably won’t notice it for a little while until you give in to your husband nagging you to put your license back in your wallet. Then you will have to listen to your husband completely panic as you try and remain calm because all the sudden your husband is supremely worried about identity theft. Finally, you will go back to security, let them know you are a complete idiot and that you are looking for a Georgia license, and a TSA agent will hand you your license while giving you the look. You know the look, the one your father used to give you about not doing something so stupid again but he didn’t want to say the word stupid out loud. Yeah, that was fun.
• Missing things in Atlanta. This past weekend we missed a HUGE Atlanta festival that had a house tour I would have loved to see. But, we will be here next year so hopefully I’ll catch it then.
• Having to leave everyone back in New Jersey. Just when you get used to seeing them every day, it is time to say goodbye. It’s tough. I love that fact that I get to live in all kinds of different places and experience tons of new things. I just wish my family and friends could come along with me. That, or that the transporter from Star Trek would become real. I’ll take either option.

  

And there it is… my brain on paper. There is no significance to this list other than the fact that it is a list. It doesn’t make decisions, it doesn’t get a vote, it doesn’t even get second look. It just is what it is.

Now, let me go get my baby that is so far off of schedule he doesn’t even have a schedule any more (I guess that would be on the “cons” list). Fun times… fun times.

By the way, this is Monkey with his harem.  He established it in New Jersey.  You have to start young with these things if you ever expect to have a lot of girls:

Phew

So, don't know if you've noticed, but it's been crazy.  I'm a little preoccupied with trying to figure out Evan's new sleep schedule (and hoping he still has one), getting my behind to the gym in between his new sleep schedule, getting ready to go to NJ for a few days, and all of this with Brian away for work.  I will say again and again, I honestly don't know how single moms do it.

The moral of the story is that you won't be getting a new or interesting post until next week.  I need to shower before he wakes up (if he really went to sleep) and then we have a bazillion things to do and at some point Evan has on his "To Do" list to get super tired but refuse to take a nap and that takes a lot of time away from our day.

But on the bright side... next Tuesday I have an appointment with a possible Atlanta gynecologist (I say possible because my first contact in Austin was a terrible disaster) and there are always fun stories that can come from that.

Enjoy your weekend and I'll be back soon.  But in case you need some eye candy:

(This is how his hair dries naturally... and that is what I look like not showered - cover your eyes from the shine off of my forehead.)

Man in the Yellow Pants

(I had another blog post slotted for today, but I had to push that one to tomorrow.  Because, that one will take a lot of thought and baby had me up at 11PM, 2AM, 3:30AM, 4:15AM and finally 5AM.  I believe we are teething.  Either that or we have hatched an evil plot to slowly make mommy go insane by depriving her of sleep.)

You all have probably heard of the Man in the Yellow Hat:

But are you aware of the man in the yellow pants?

That's right, real mean wear yellow pants.

Don't let this look fool you, he is not surprised he is wearing yellow pants.  In fact, he picked them out of his closet this morning.

Yeah, he knows it.  He also knows that not even his yellow pants can hide his round little belly that was just filled with milk... yummy.

And this is the face of a man confident in his ability to wear those yellow pants.

And now I'm going back to sleep.

(Oh, and ignore the duct tape on the wall.  It's covering a hole instead of the pillow we used to have there.  We just get classier and classier down here.)

TGIF

Well, it's Friday and I'm sure for some of you there is a sigh of relief (for me too, I get a helping hand on the weekends). And to help ease you in to your weekend, I wanted to share this with you:

Yesterday Monkey took a nap and he slept hard.  He slept so hard that I took pictures of him with the flash and he never even knew it.

I know his crib may look like a SIDS nightmare, but he is okay, I promise.  Focus on the sleeping baby... so cute and so sweet.

Now, tell me why people only have princesses in fairy tales?  Why not Sleeping Handsome or The Prince and the Pea or Rapu... no, I guess Rapunzel wouldn't work.  But you get my drift.

Have a good weekend!

Q & A with Mr. Monkey Pants

I often get questions about Monkey directed to me... even though Monkey is usually sitting/rolling on the floor right there.  So I've decided to take the questions directly to the source and let Mr. Monkey Pants respond.

Q: Mr. Monkey Pants, how do you like living in Atlanta?
A: What's Atlanta? I like living with my Mommy and Daddy.  Mommy feeds me and Daddy throws me.  That's as good as it gets.

Q: Mr. Monkey Pants, how do you like playcare (where Monkey goes when Mommy goes to the gym)?
A: I love playcare.  There are some really nice big people there who give me a bottle whenever I want it.  There are also lots of little people there who I get to watch.  And, there are tons of toys.  Sometimes, when Mommy comes to get me, I secretly want her to leave me there longer.  I don't think she knows that though, cause I'm a good act-or.

Q: Mr. Monkey Pants, what is your favorite thing to do?
A:. Hmmm, this is hard because... I like it all.  I like to roll all over the floor.  I like to chew on things... anything.  I like my exersaucer and my bouncy.  I like books, my bath, my changing table... I mean, what is there not to like?

Q. Mr. Monkey Pants, done anything new lately?

A: Funny you should ask, as a matter of fact I have.  Yesterday, Mommy took me to Whole Foods (that definitely wasn't new) and instead of keeping me in my car seat she put me directly in the cart.

It was the coolest thing ever.  I could look at everyone, try and grab things off the shelf, swing my legs, and just be merry.  Mommy said something about this making her life easier too... but I think it's just all about me.

Look how cute I look in there. Man, I'm a handsome little boy.

Q: Mr. Monkey Pants, why do you so often check off milestones when your Maga is around (rolling over, sitting up unassisted, etc)?
A: 'Cause we have a deal.  I can't talk about the deal because it's private, but we got one... or maybe we have two or three - I can't remember.

Q: Mr. Monkey Pants, what is your favorite food?
A:  My favorite food is sweet potatoes, and carrots, and winter squash, and green beans and rice, and apples, and rice cereal, and peas.  I love them all.  Why do I have to pick one?  Why do big people want me to have favorites? 

Q: Mr. Monkey Pants, any final thoughts?
A: A few.  I love being outside, it's super pretty.  I love being inside so I can roll on the ground.  I don't like to sleep that much because there is a lot to do but when I do sleep, I'm gonna go deep.  I like to throw things, bang things, and eat things.  I don't understand why big people make life so complicated.  Also, I would appreciate it if big people would stop kissing me all the time.  I mean, I'm a grown ass baby and don't need all that newborn stuff.  Yup, that's it.

Drumroll Please....

And the new favorite toy is:

...this thing... it has no name.  When he is older, this thing gets legs and wheels attached to it and it becomes a walker.  I'm thinking Evan is just fine with it the way it is for right now.

He has figured out all of the toy's secrets.  He knows he can pull the shapes off from the green part and stuff them in his mouth.

He knows he can push the buttons inside the shapes and they will flash and make noise.

He LOVES the gears and just plays with them for hours (or minutes - if you hear the noise it feels like hours).

And he knows that pulling the barn door will let him play peek-a-boo with the ducks inside (and he knows that he can shove that barn door in his mouth for teething).

He hasn't yet become fascinated by the keyboard, but I'm waiting for that.  Oh yeah, and mommy hid the phone - it wasn't attached and he would bang it on the concrete and I had visions of plastic shards when the phone broke.  It was deemed unsafe.

Now let's address the pink elephant in the pictures... why is my baby just wearing a white onesie (or what my mother would refer to as an undershirt)?  Well, here is what I can tell you... this picture was taken in the morning before his bath.  I know this because the one thing my baby does consistently in the morning is poop.  And more importantly, he poops outside his diaper, usually all over his pajamas in whatever color he ate last night (this was a morning after carrots, use your imagination).  If this had been a morning I go to the gym (when he doesn't get a bath) I would have put him in his day clothes.  But, since he was going to have a bath, I put him in this onesie and let him roll around.  Then I bathed him and dressed him in his day clothes.

There, aren't you glad we dealt with that?

Twenty-First Century Grandchild

Sorry I was absent yesterday.  Monkey was off-schedule which meant that I didn't get to check everything off on my list and, sadly, this is one of those things I find expendable.  But I'm back today and I have a guessing game for you.

What do you think is happening in this picture?

No, Monkey didn't just finish vacuuming.  No, he didn't just finish cooking and carelessly leave his oven mitt on the kitchen table.  No, he didn't just change the channel and then toss the remote on the table.  No, he didn't just pen his great American novel by hand, with a black pen.  (Man, I had no idea there were so many background images going on in this picture.)

Here, let me give you another photo that will maybe help you guess.

Yes, he is being the cutest baby in the whole wide world sitting up in his high chair (instead of leaning over looking for the cats, or grabbing on to the straps and seeing if he can put them in his mouth, or trying to figure out how to take off the tray, or gumming the tray, or - well, you get it - he doesn't normally sit still in his high chair).

But most importantly, what Monkey is doing in this picture, is Skyping with his Grandma and Poppa in Sarasota, FL. 

What - did you just ask me what is Skyping?  Or are you just marveling at the fact that my generation takes every noun and makes it into a verb (Google became googling, Skype became skyping... etc).

If you aren't familiar with Skyping... here is the deal.  Do you remember on the Jetsons when they would receive a phone call, Jane Jetson would put on her fake face, a TV screen would pop up and she would have a conversation with the person on the screen?  Welcome to Skyping.  Basically, through the computer, you can see and talk to people at the same time.  And, it is free.  Yes, I said free - no money, nothing, nada, I've read the fine print... really, it costs nothing.

As you can see in this photo, Evan is a fan of skyping.  He is quite enthralled by the images on the screen and the voices.  I would love to know what is going on in his brain when he sees this.  Like, does he recognize his Grandma and Poppa or does he think he is watching Yo Gabba Gabba (children's show if you aren't familiar with it - watch an episode, it's worth it)?

What you can kind of see here is how much he is smiling while looking at his grandparents.  And, you can almost see his grandparents on the computer.

Skyping is very cool and something that allows Evan and his grandparents to stay in touch.  For instance, these pictures were taken after Evan's grandparents got to watch Evan "eat" (and this is in quotes because I'm not sure inhaling is the same as eating) his dinner.  Someday Evan will be able to Skype with his grandparents all on his own.  Me, I wrote letters (yes, I used paper and pen, put them in an envelope, used a stamp, and had the post office deliver them) to my grandfather.

This is the twenty-first century.

The Swing

Being a first time mom, I often rely on the sage wisdom of tried and true moms.  So, when my mom was here and I mentioned how I couldn't wait for Monkey to get bigger so he and I could go to the playground together she asked me why I was waiting.  My mom felt that Monkey was big enough to use the baby swing at a playground.  And I was very very excited.

So, after my mom left last week, Brian came home from work on Friday and I convinced him to take a family trip to a local park so we could push Monkey on the swings.  I think Brian was a little skeptical, but I was holding true to my mom's belief.

We parked, saw that a few other dads were out with their children (apparently I was supposed to be home cooking dinner while dad took the kid), and put Monkey in the swing.

Umm.... Mom... Monkey is NOT big enough to sit in a baby swing at the park.  I mean, I'm just saying, he seems to be a mite small.

But that didn't deter Brian and me.  Gosh darnit, we were at the park, it was beautiful, and as you can tell, Monkey was completely ENTHRALLED by the boy whose dad was pushing him ever higher (that boy would be stage right... or the way Monkey is looking).  So, we made him fit.

We propped him up on the edge of the swing and Brian pushed him a little (as you can tell, Brian is still skeptical).

I was really expecting lots of squealing, something similar to how Monkey reacts when his Dad throws him up in the air.  I got him staring at the other boy.

And he continued to stare and it started to get a little uncomfortable as the other father gave us a few looks.  I wonder if he was uncomfortable because Monkey was staring or because two adults were okay with the fact that their baby was precariously perched in the swing and that another child could fit behind him.

This is the only time I got Monkey to actually look at me.  It is one of those looks that is a cross between, "Oh, wow, I completely forgot you were here because I was busy staring next door," and "Seriously Mom, can we end this experiment and put me back in something a little more form fitting? Huh? Can we?"

And so we left soon after this picture.  We put our baby back in his car seat (where he fits), strapped him in, and decided to wait a few more months for the swing. 

This Post is About Housework... Sorta

Okay, so I've been gainfully unemployed for a little more than 8 months.  In that time I've become fairly adept at taking care of a baby and, as I realized last week, very little else.

Somewhere in the back of my mind was the idea of the 1950s housewife (to a point, I'm not putting on makeup for Brian to come home and fixing him a drink).  But I did think that my house would be orderly, dinner would be on the table at the same time every night, and that our weekends would be full of fun and not errands.  And then the reality of how I am hit me smack in the face.

As you might recall, I am not a planner.  I'm not even someone who schedules particularly well.  I am, however, VERY organized.  I know where everything is in my house to the shelf and location. My kitchen drawers are organized by use and my dresser drawers are color coded.  Everything has a home and there is a reason behind this home. But what I found out is that just being organized doesn't get the kitty litter done on a daily basis nor does it make sure that I change and wash our bed linens weekly (seriously, normally that occurs because I wonder when was the last time I did that and then I get grossed out).

And so, I am a firm believer that when you recognize deficiencies in your personality you accept them.  Not like - "Oh well, I guess we will never have clean sheets," but more like, "Crap, now I have to deal with this issue and figure out a way to make sure I clean the sheets."  So, I put my organization skills to good use and made a "chore chart" (just saying this out loud goes against everything I believe in but I think this is important to share - not sure why yet, but I know it will come to me).

Yes, I made my chart in Excel.  Yes, I color coded it. And yes, to share it with you, I put a screen shot of it in PowerPoint, made it reflect, and then saved it as a picture.  And this my friends, is my organization skill at its best.

This chart has everything I should do daily/weekly.  I plan on printing it out and using a new version of it every week.  This is my first week and so far it is working fairly well.  I've fed the cats every day this week (yes, I DID need to put that on the chart... so sad) and I've gone to the gym twice so far (also on my chart).  While this chart may not thrill me, it is nice to have clean bath towels and to know that I will have clean underwear without having to quickly do a load of laundry. 

I think having a kid made me realize that my personality worked when it was just me, but not so much with a family (that and watching a lot of Wife Swap and always identifying with the "quirky" mom who is in to some weird alternative life style and only does chores as needed - creepy feeling).

And so I'm done with this post and I'm still not sure why I shared all of this with you.  I can tell you that I searched the Internet for other mom's "chore charts" and found a lot of conversation but nothing concrete so I'm not the only one dealing with this.  My hope is that these tasks will become habitual and I won't have to use this chart... but the organizational part of me sure does like placing a big "X" in the cell when a task is done.

More Monkey pictures tomorrow. I promise.

Waking Up

I am NOT a morning person.  Go ahead, ask around.  I'll wait....  See, I told you, I am NOT a morning person.  Sadly, I believe that my son is.  He appears to like the time before 7:00 AM.  And, to make matters worse, he is super happy at this time.  So, I come downstairs bleary-eyed, and feed him his bottle, all without really waking up.

But, if I was paying attention, this is what I would see.

This is how he looks when he wakes up after not eating for 12 hours. 

This is how he looks after a 45-minute cat nap.

And this is how he looks after a 2-hour nap (a super rare event around this place these days).

Jealous yet?

Happy Easter (Better Late Than Never)

For Easter we went to the zoo... along with a lot of other good Christian families (apparently this is the thing to do in Atlanta if you have children and the weather is good).  We have a membership so it's almost like you get to go for free (even though you have already paid).

We saw giant pandas, elephants, otters, and reptiles.  Brian took Monkey to see the naked mole rats.  I didn't go because the zoo people think I should be okay with leaving my stroller somewhere simply because it says "stroller parking".  Brian told me I'm "too Philly" to trust something like that but I can't believe that people in Atlanta are more trusting than Philly. And, I really didn't miss seeing the naked mole rats.

We spent about 2 hours there and then it was time to go home and pretend to put Monkey down for a nap (I say pretend because we - meaning Monkey only - have been slowly decreasing our daytime napping but we - meaning Mommy - haven't given up on the daytime naps so we - again, Mommy - still go through the motions).  I really wanted to see the kangaroos so we walked through the children's section on our way out.

Apparently it was too hot for the kangaroos (because somehow Atlanta gets hotter than the Australian Outback) and they were big lug-a-lugs lying around on the ground.  Supreme disappointment.  So, we kept moving.

Right around the entry to the children's section, I spied, out of the corner of my eye, a giant Easter Bunny (because of course the zoo would have one of their sad sad employees put on an Easter Bunny suit when it was 85 degrees outside).  I pointed him out to Brian (who somehow missed him) and Brian got super excited.  You see, if it weren't for Brian, Monkey's childhood pictures would consist of him eating paper towels or staring at his toes.  I forget about these iconic pictures that children are supposed to have.  Brian was the one who pushed to get Evan's picture with Santa and Brian was the one who wanted Evan to have a picture with the Easter Bunny.

I had little to no expectations due to Evan's lack of interaction with Santa:

And because of the little girl who ran away like a turtle from the Easter Bunny.  What?  Huh?  Well, a little girl was in an umbrella stroller (she was probably around 2 or 3 but I'm super bad with ages).  Her mother placed her next to the Easter Bunny while still in her stroller.  The girl took one look at the giant bunny, started to freak out, pushed herself forward so that her feet were on the ground and the stroller on her back and started to run away, like a turtle, from the Easter Bunny. 

So, Brian held Monkey while I took the pictures.  Brian walked slowly over, stood next to the bunny, I got ready with the camera and... my son immediately grabbed on to the bunny. 

I took another shot, trying to get him to look at me, but he was enthralled.

I think if we had waited any longer he would have tried to put that bunny in his mouth.

Evan 2 - Bunny 0

Hope you all had a fabulous Easter!

A Special Thank You

I’m back. It’s been a while, but believe me, I needed all that time to recover. I was sick y’all… super sick. I think I had all of Monkey’s and Brian’s symptoms rolled into one super bug. Well, maybe I’m being a little dramatic but something wicked was in Atlanta last week.


And the most wonderful thing was that my mom was able to come down to GA and take care of me and Mr. Monkey Pants. Because I know fancy gifts and flowers will be wasted on her as a thank you, I thought I would use this post to thank her for her help and kindness. I’ll try and keep the mushiness to a minimum but I’ll warn you that some might sneak in.



Dear Mom,


At 7:05 EST on Monday, March 29th I called you to see if there was any way you could come to Georgia. I was super sick, Brian had used all of his sick days the previous week, and you arrived in Atlanta by 5:00 PM that day. You swooped in, took care of me, took care of Monkey (even getting up in the middle of the night so I could sleep), helped me rid my house of the ant invasion, cooked dinner, and didn’t complain once. I can’t thank you enough but I will try.


Thank you for interrupting your life to take care of mine. Thank you for always doing that – I knew you would come if I needed you.


Thank you for taking care of my husband and my son. You love the two most important men in my life independently of me and I thank you for that.


Thank you for showing me the tricks of moving in to someone else’s house and making it your own. Your experiences have made it easier for me to handle my transitions.


Thank you for ALWAYS beings honest about who you are as a mother, as a person, and as a friend. Your truth makes it easier for me to accept mine.


And most of all, thank you for showing me the kind of mother I want to be and that I can grow into that person (it doesn’t have to happen yesterday).


Love,


Your favorite daughter


(Sorry Amy, truth hurts)