Paint Party

Ok, so I know I said I'd write about this forever ago, but work has been crazy and Bailey seems to be wanting to ruin my life getting new teeth and therefore waking up SUPER early.  Plus there was a holiday weekend.  And, I'm lazy.  Ok?   Stop interrogating me!  

But anyway, a few weeks ago, I went to a "paint party" with my sweet friend Anna.  Unfortunately, my brand new iphone died on my way there, so I couldn't get any good pictures of the set-up, but we had a great time, and I'd definitely love to do it again.   

Here's how it worked:  First, we signed up here a couple months in advance (apparently these classes fill up fast) by clicking on the painting we wanted on the date we wanted.  We paid through the website (it cost $40 - which is not bad considering you get to bring home an original art piece).  We actually missed our first planned class, as there were some serious storms and tornados in and around Memphis that night, but the teacher was nice enough to schedule a whole new class for us.  

Then, we showed up for class with wine and a snack (I brought a sushi roll - but next time I may not bring any food, as I basically slammed down the sushi roll while chatting with Anna before everything started, and I would not have had time to eat it otherwise) (but wine is a must - especially for the people who were sitting next to us, at least 2 of whom professed to have drank an entire bottle of wine during the approximately 2.5 hour class - which even beat me, so that's impressive.  Also, they provide wine tools, so you don't have to get the twist off kind, which I did anyway, just in case - better to be prepared than not be able to drink wine).   

Then, when you get there, you take a seat in front of a canvas that is already set up with brushes and a plate of the needed paint colors in front of you.  You can also get extra paint from the front of the room if you run out.  

After that, you just follow your teacher's instructions. Our girl was great, she gave us tips and mentioned several different ways to personalize the picture.  I did get a little bit behind at a couple different points, as I went all perfectionist with certain parts, but overall the speed was pretty good.  

I even think the painting came out pretty well, at least for me, as I'm lucky to paint (or draw) a straight line and usually end up throwing away any creative-type thing I try to do because I get all embarrassed and hate it (but, strangely, I have recurring dreams where I design really cute clothes that I would actually wear, and have never seen before.  Even though I'm definitely not an artist, and I'm not even a big shopper.  What does that mean?  Please discuss.)

So - here is the picture of me and Anna with our masterpieces taken by our teacher since I'm an idiot (our painting was called Delta Nights - I love it!): 

How cute is Anna's picture?  I was so jealous of her awesome sky and cool brown in her church trail (which you can't really see in the picture, but trust me, it looks great!).  Also, she definitely mastered the "framing" much better than I did.  I actually painted over my entire "frame" and repainted it because it was so terrible - not that it improved at all the second time around.  Oh well. 

And here is my masterpiece hanging in our apartment:

So fun! I think they have these classes in various places - I know the Sips n' Strokes classes are similar and available in Nashville and Knoxville, as well as all the other places listed on the website (and Scott's mom, who is a great artist, is a teacher in Knoxville, so I KNOW that class will be great!)  Y'all should definitely go - I highly recommend it. 

Sick Day

Sweet Bailey came down with her 3rd official ear infection this past weekend. Poor thing, I'm pretty sure it started on Friday, as we noticed she was tugging on her ear then.  We were going to take her in to see the pediatrician on Saturday morning if she had a bad night, but then she slept all the way through the night until 7 a.m. Saturday morning, which is definitely NOT typical these days and made us think that she must be ok.  Unfortunately, it only got worse from there (after the pediatrician's office had closed, of course), as she had a rough time in the car Saturday afternoon and would cry when we hit any bumps.  Thankfully, she slept through the night AGAIN on Saturday night, but then had a very rough day (for her, at least) on Sunday and a rough night Sunday night. 

So, I decided we would go to the pediatrician first thing on Monday morning.  Well, Bailey's ear had apparently gotten pretty bad, as she started screaming the minute we got in the car, which is highly unusual for her.  I started singing to soothe her (even typing that makes me giggle - my voice is TERRIBLE and I would never, ever have thought I would call it "soothing" to anyone, but for some reason my singing is pretty much the only thing that will calm Bailey down when she starts melting down. Bless her sweet heart.)   Well, my sister called in the middle of about my third or fourth song (I'm thinking it was "On Top of Spaghetti."  Or maybe "Rocky Top."  I have a rather limited song selection).  Bailey been calm and quiet for several minutes at that point, and I knew she'd be able to hear me talking on the phone, so I thought I'd be ok to stop singing and take the phone call. 

Apparently not.  About 30 seconds into the phone call, Bailey starts fussing.  About 45 seconds in, she starts SCREAMING.   Then, 2 seconds later, the "silent, yet heaving scream" began, and I immediately knew what was happening and hung up on my sister. 

We were about 10 minutes away from the doctor's office when she threw up.  EVERYWHERE.  So, I'm driving on the interstate, I'm crying, Bailey's crying, I'm trying to see how bad the damage is (fyi, it was really, really bad - I'm talking apricot and applesauce out of both nostrils bad), and I'm trying to go faster so she doesn't have to sit in it any longer than necessary.  I'm also simultaneously trying to find the container of wipes that I keep in my diaper bag (which was somehow MIA, of course), calling Scott to see what he thought I should do, and trying not to kill us both by swerving into the median or an 18 wheeler.  All the while begging Bailey to PLEASE stop crying and apologizing profusely and telling her I was going as fast as I could (and I was - probably faster than I should have been).

So, we finally got to the parking lot of the pediatrician's office and as soon as I saw the full damage, I knew Bailey was not getting back in that car seat until the whole thing had been scrubbed clean mostly because I was NOT touching it again until it was clean.  I took Bailey out, took off all her clothes, wrapped her in a probably dirty blanket I thankfully had in the trunk of my car, and called Scott and told him he needed to leave the office, go home and get some wipes and a change of clothes and drive over with the other car seat. 

Then we went to her appointment, both of us reeking of puke and Bailey naked except for a diaper and wrapped up in a dirty blanket.  I'm sure our elevator companions were thrilled. 

Of course, the ear infection was confirmed, and the predictable mommy guilt ensued, as I mentally flogged myself for not bringing her in on Saturday and causing her more pain.  Not to mention for stopping singing on the way to the pediatrician, which appeared to have led to the whole vomiting incident.  Uhhh.

After the diagnosis, I decided we would both stay home on Monday, as she's not supposed to go to daycare for 24 hours after vomiting, our pediatrician likes for her to stay home until she's had 2 doses of antibiotic, and she was so mommy-needy I couldn't stand to leave her.  Plus, we both still reeked of puke. 

So, we had a fun day of playing and just hanging out together because she wouldn't nap or let me leave her side without screaming.  I got out our nice camera, which I have no idea how to use, and I took about 389 pictures, most of which were deleted immediately due to my terrible photography skills.  But a few turned out pretty well, so here are my favorites from our afternoon:

If I had to pick one picture to sum up Bailey's personality right now, I'm pretty sure this would be it.  She is so fun and sweet and HAPPY!  (even with a terrible ear infection)

Cuddling with JR as always, he is her favorite toy on the planet right now (I love Reilly in the background on this one).

Hey mom!

Stretching is very important.  Especially when you like to eat your own toes.

SO close to crawling - she does a slithering almost-army type crawl right now and can move forward to get whatever she wants to get, but she's just about to take off in full-crawling mode.   Yikes!

This is her "teething/grinding face" that she makes when she's moving her (brand new and tiny) upper teeth against her (now enormous) lower teeth.  I don't know if she just likes the new sound or if it makes her gums feel better, but this face is pretty cute.

There are no words.  I just LOVE this sweet girl. 

If it was up to me, we'd have "sick days" every day (minus the ear infection and any sickness, of course).  But that's a whole different post for a different day......

The Babyweight Chronicles, Part III: Shuffles is Back!

(Here is Part I, here is Part II)

So, not much news on the babyweight front.  I think a few more pounds have come off, but they seem to reappear every once in awhile, so I'm not going to get too excited.  

But I thought I would report that, in light of the recent babyweight stalemate and our upcoming beach trip (in 2 weeks we will be at Pawleys Island with some of my favorite people in the whole entire world, and I cannot wait!), I've decided to mix it up a bit and start running again, and I'm trying limit my carbs a little.  

As for the running, I should probably explain my use of the word "run." If you're reading this and have ever seen me "run," you probably already know what I'm about to say. Despite my high school friends' habit of calling me Forrest Gump, my college phase of running long distances at random times alone (oh, how I miss the days when I could run in the dark, to a place I've never been, without fear of loss of life and/or limb), and my two completed half-marathons, I am NOT a "runner" and I harbor no pretension about this. At most, I am a jogger. But, probably most accurately, I am a shuffler. I am slow, and my feet hardly come off the ground. You know those really old people who "run" by walking fast and moving their arms quickly and emphatically?  I'm about 2 paces ahead of them, and probably only because of pride and my competitive nature. After seeing me "run," my brother in law coined my awesome nickname, Shuffles, and not even I could argue - it was completely fitting.  Dang it. 

But for this post, I'm probably going to use the term running, at least most of the time.  Because it flows better than jogging or shuffling.  And, it sounds way more awesome. 

Here is video proof of my shuffling - I'm the one in the gray running tights with the white shirt on and the green shirt tied around my waist (p.s. this is the only proof I did the St. Jude Marathon in 2007 - I'm pretty sure that Scott had the settings messed up on the camera and meant to take a picture. Or, hey, maybe he really wanted a video of my glorious shuffling): 

Beautiful, isn't it?  (and by beautiful, I mean terrible.  Even Scott admits it.  This shuffling video is awful.)

Although I tore my acl when I was 14 and skiing above my skill level to impress some boys, I can't really blame that, as it has been a problem my whole life. At one point my dad wanted me to get a running coach to help me out with sports, as both soccer and softball were pretty much impossible because of my turtle-like speed, and my tendency to trip over my own feet and get distracted by shiny things.  I am a beacon of athleticism. 

Anyway, when I was pregnant, I gave up running. I was completely and inexplicably paranoid about the bouncing effects on a fetus (which is truly idiotic, given the fact that many women run marathons while pregnant), tired, and probably too busy eating. Whatever it was, it just wasn't my priority.  

And when I went to my six-week OB visit after Bailey's birth, my OB was a bit reluctant about my plans to start running. While she didn't necessarily discourage me, she told me it would probably be better to start after I'd lost the next 10 pounds (I was only down 25 out of 52 pounds at that point). My first instinct was to ignore this advice - I mean, have you seen the Biggest Loser? These people are 100, if not 200 pounds heavier than me, and THEY freaking run. But, in all honesty, when I tried to run for even a few steps, it felt all jiggly and awkward and awful. So, I took her advice to heart. Maybe because I'm a little bit lazy.

So, the first time I tried to jog was before Easter, when we were in Louisville. I had no other option - when I'm at home, we have an almost-gym-ready elliptical in our cardboard box apartment, which I insisted we get before we even thought about to get pregnant, as the elliptical was pretty much my exclusive gym activity when I was "skinny" (at least, skinny enough - that's a whole other post). Thankfully, my wonderfully husband gave in after I insisted this was a necessity to having kids, and I use it daily, just like I did at the gym. While I am a huge fan, it had become something of a crutch, and I needed to mix it up.  

So, in Louisville, I had no crutch, and, for summary - here's what happened, as documented in the texts to and from my sister right afterward:

Yes, I jogged for 37 minutes.  Then walked for 12.  Then jogged for 12.  The entire time, I ignored the shooting pains in my right knee - I mean, it was my LEFT knee that had the torn acl in 1995, so what could the problem be?

Well, as my genius sister was smart enough to know from the beginning and as I figured out pretty quick, when I could barely walk three hours later, I definitely bit off more than I could chew that first time out on the running front.  It was so weird, I was literally limping on my right knee.  That night, we went looking for a new, big girl car seat for Bailey, and I was hobbling around Babies R Us with Tracy and Scott like a crazy, vulgar old woman, randomly crying out in pain, and whining like a B about the pain.  They made fun of me humored me, and were more patient than I ever would have been, and thank goodness, the terrible pain in my right knee was gone the next morning (after B made me wake up 17 times that night to her crying because she was sleeping in the pack n' play and she's not used to it.  Can't wait for the beach.)

So - my new running plan.  I started with 20 mins, because I did that easily and it didn't make me hobble and complain like a crazy lady.  At first, I planned to start slowly, and add a minute a day, but since I have no sense of moderation or self-control (even when wine isn't involved), I have since gone up 5 minutes a day, and I'm up to 35 minutes already after starting this weekend.  Even though I'm trying to say we won't be here, as we hopefully will have moved to Knoxville - I'm not going to rule out a run at the St. Jude Half-Marathon again this year.  And if, by some amazing miracle, we make it back to East TN, I would love to do the Strawberry Plains half again.  We shall see!

I'm also trying to cut out some carbs.  In all honesty, the only eating/exercise plan that has ever worked for me has been to eat whatever I want (with some severe portion control) and to exercise off whatever excess I eat.  

But I think I'm eating too many chips, and probably not portioning correctly.  And at this point, I need all the help I can get.  Because these 20 pounds are not going to lose themselves, and I'm at my breaking point.  It's just TIME.  So, here goes~

Gratuitous picture/video post

I've definitely slacked on posting pictures and videos, so here are some of our newest and best!

Cute new video:

And recent pictures....

Practicing my walk - cute and terrifying at the same time! (if you double click on it, you'll see it better.  I hate how blogger makes lots of pictures look blurry when they really aren't!)

Cuddling with JR (named by Scott - his full name is Coco Jr., as he is the "junior" of Scott's stuffed bear named Coco, whom he loved to snuggle when he was little)

Passed out in the car after errands on a busy Saturday!

Fun on the AW Willis bridge with dad!

And, here are a select few of our professional pics taken by AK Vogel - Best photographer ever!

TGIF!  Hope y'all have a great weekend!

(Yes, I know I look mom-ish.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.  But, I'm working on it? Ugh.)

True Hollywood Story: Teething

So I know I've been all whiny lately, but our little family has been having a rough little time.  And, this is my blog, and I'll whine if I want to.

But seriously, Bailey's teething has been quite the surprise nightmare.  I'm not even kidding when I say sometimes I want my newborn back, because at least I knew what to do with her back then when she woke up screaming at night - feed her and put her back to sleep (which, we were VERY blessed, she did pretty well. )  And, I could take a nap the next day.

But with this, she wakes up screaming and in pain, and she's so aware now that she completely wakes herself up despite being exhausted, so then we just have a wide-awake, exhausted, and grumpy baby who is in seemingly excruciating pain as soon as the pain medicine wears off (strangely, she's usually fine during the day - the teething demons, like vampires and ear infections, only come out at night).  Since Hyland's teething tablets have been voluntarily recalled and the FDA has even issued an advisory on Baby Orajel, we are left with only baby tylenol and ibuprofen (does anyone know if the non-benzocaine gels work?  I've been meaning to pick one up since the orajel was taken away, but I keep forgetting). 

Anyway, just to record this time and scare the crap out of warn some new moms, here is our teething experience so far:

At around 5 months old, Bailey started teething.  Teething snatched away her former habit of 12+ hours of continual, uninterrupted sleep at night, which had usually ended between 7:30 and 8 a.m., a schedule which we had all gotten used to.

At first, we thought she may also be having a growth spurt or was just hungry, so we were feeding her and putting her back to bed.  But then we realized that just meant that she wouldn't eat her breakfast, so then she was all off-schedule and grouchy all day, and the pediatrician advised we should wait until it was light to feed her. 

So then, I started going in and comforting her and giving her ibruprofen (after she was 6 months old, of course).  She would fall asleep on my chest, and I'd just let her sleep in our bed til morning because she'd cry if I put her back in her bed and I'm a huge wuss.  

But now, the front top teeth are coming in, and she's not. having. it. 

Although we get random breaks here and there, here is a typical night in our cardboard box apartment these days:

After putting Bailey down to sleep between 7 and 7:30, fixing and eating our dinner, working out, and cleaning the kitchen, I sit down at about 9:00 p.m. and play on the internet and watch tv while having some wine.  Somehow, all of the sudden it's 10:45, and I hurry to bed, crossing my fingers that this will be the night Bailey decides she wants to sleep in until 8 a.m. again.  Scott sometimes comes with me, but usually stays up a bit later.

Bailey wakes up around 3-3:30 a.m., mumbling and crying out a little bit.  I wake up just enough to turn on the video monitor and see her settle herself within 2-3 minutes, then roll over and try to fall back asleep.

Then, she wakes screaming at 5 a.m. Because I have this pipe dream that she MAY put herself back to sleep (for the love of everything good, please let her settle herself back to sleep......ohhhhh, crap....fine, I'm getting up, I'm getting up......damn, now I have to pee, please dial it down a notch....) it takes me a few minutes to decide she's definitely *not* going to get herself back to sleep and I have to get up (yes, *I* have to get up.  I've tried asking Scott to take a shift once in awhile, and because he is a wonderful father/husband he will do it, but then my crazy controlling mom hormones kick in every single time and all I do is lay in bed and think about what *I* would be doing if *I* was holding her and WHAT is he doing?  Oh geez, why is she crying, make it stop make it stop make it stop.  Ugh....he must not be rocking her right (is that even possible?  I suppose it must be)........alright, screw sleeping, she needs her mama! So then I'm up AND I'm officially a huge B for making Scott get up and then critiquing him (for what? I'm not sure) and taking over anyway).

So anyway, by the time I make it in there, Bailey's pretty much fully awake but still exhausted, and after the ibruprofen kicks in, all she wants to do is smile and jump on my lap and play and pinch me (what is UP with the pinching?) and pull my hair (have you ever had your tiny little baby hairs pulled at 5:17 a.m.?  Because I have.  Repeatedly.  And somehow it is way, way worse than them being pulled at any other time of day.  Trust me.) 

Then, if by some miracle I am able to calm her down and get her to sleep on my chest, she inevitably wakes up as soon as we lay down in bed and Reilly decides that this is too many people in HER bed and gets up and shakes before jumping off the bed.  Obviously, it's not Reilly's fault that this act wakes Bailey up out of whatever light sleep state she was in, but I don't think very clearly at 5:17 a.m. and therefore I *may* occasionally use a VERY mean voice and shut Reilly out of Bailey's room when she tries to get away from me go sleep there after we took over her our bed.  (Of course, such episodes seem to completely traumatize our overly sensitive first child dog who thinks that she's human.  Accordingly, they lead me to massive guilt trips and cuddling/hugging/profusely apologizing sessions.  Repeatedly.  Ahh, dog-mommy guilt, a lesser known but fully real phenomenon.)

So then, we're back at square one in the rocking chair, and I'm trying to keep on my serious "this is sleep time" face, but Bailey doesn't play fair and starts touching my face, kissing me, talking, and smiling. Then, as soon as I give in and pay attention to her, she decides to cry and act like she wants to get out of my arms and I decide, well, then, she's going to play. 

We head to the den and I put her down on the blanket with toys.  She (of course) immediately starts crying and throws her head down on the floor because what she REALLY is, is exhausted.  So then I try to put her back in her crib to sleep, but as soon as I do that, she (of course) starts screaming like she's on fire and I can't take it anymore, so I start crying because I'm never going to sleep again and I have to go to work and I don't know what to do to make it better and dear Lord why can't she just SLEEP. 

Then I give in and decide I'll feed her because, screw the pediatricians, it is the only thing I KNOW will get her back to sleep without more crying.  So while finishing her bottle, she finally passes out and doesn't move a muscle when I place her back in her crib.  It then takes me at least 20 minutes, if not an hour, to get back to sleep.  So then I make Scott get up with her when she wakes up for good at around 8 a.m., even though he too was pretty much completely awake for the whole miserable teething/crying session because of my complete ineptitude and inability to control my frustration.  But since he's amazing, he makes her bottles, gets her dressed if I haven't already done it (surprisingly, he USUALLY doesn't pick out anything too hideous), and takes her to daycare, where they can deal with her grouchy off-schedule self.

I then head off to work, exhausted and with approximately 1/2 of my brain working....and somehow do it again the next day.

This parenting shit is hard, people.  It is wonderful and loving and beautiful and amazing.  But it is freaking HARD.

And, as beautiful as I know her teeth-filled smile better will be........I am going to miss this little gummy smile :(

Chicken Spinach Lasagna (totally phoning this one in)

I made this the other night, and it was fabulous (I forgot to take a picture, so I stole this from Jennie's blog - hope she doesn't mind!) (also, you should read her blog - she has some great creative ideas and I'm going to add her on the right whenever I get a minute):

Even Scott, who is not a huge fan of spinach (I mean, this boy had lived without spinach artichoke dip until he started dating me - now THAT is a tragedy!), loved it and had about six servings on Saturday night then had most of the leftovers last night for dinner. 

The only substitution I made was I used ginger instead of nutmeg, because I discovered I didn't have any nutmeg when it was too late and the internet told me I could.  Love google - seriously, how did people live without it? Also, I used lower-fat mayo (the olive oil kind), but full fat everything else (because that's all they had at our overpriced yet marvelously convenient neighborhood market), and according to my rough calculations, this dish still only has something like 350 calories per serving, and makes about 12 servings.  I will definitely use low fat sour cream next time, because I can never tell the difference, but even with the full fat kind, that's not bad at all!

I have lots to blog about this week - last week's painting class, our fun weekend, Carolina on my mind, some new teeth, etc., but work is looking insane for the next few weeks, so we'll see how far I get. 

Happy Monday all!

Annoyed!

Apparently Blogger is having issues, as my last 2 posts have magically disappeared, which is a little annoying.  It was a universal problem for awhile, but now I've seen where others have theirs back and mine are still in the hat with the rabbit, or wherever they went.  So, hopefully mine will be back soon?  I think we can all agree we won't be able to sleep tonight without those vitally important posts (what were they about again?  I've slept since then - although not well, because I really did jinx myself by talking about B sleeping through the night.  Stupid, stupid, stupid!)

Anyway - TGIF, hope everyone has a great bbq fest weekend!

Random Confessions.....

I call Reilly (our dog) Bailey and call Bailey Reilly all. the. time.

I just saw a blog post where a pregnant woman said she made Fruity Pebble treats (which I'm assuming are like Rice Krispy treats, but with Fruity Pebbles) and now that's all I can think about.

I think it's kind of crazy that Law Momma's marriage nosedived and she started getting a divorce RIGHT when I linked to her blog in my blog feed on the right.  I'm pretty sure the two weren't related, but the timing kind of freaked me out.  Her heartfelt posts have been fascinating, however, and sure have made me appreciate my husband!

Instead of my usual evening workout after B goes to bed and before I have a glass of wine (ok....maybe two) while I sit on the couch and watch tv with Scott, last night I had a couple glasses of wine at a paint class I went to with my friend Anna at 7:00 (which will get it's own blog post), and then, since I have no self control or sense of moderation I'm a creature of habit, had another glass while sitting on the couch watching tv after I got home.  Mistake!  Even though B slept through the night (two nights in a row!  I totally just jinxed that, didn't I?), now I'm totally dragging.

I told myself I wasn't going to get addicted to caffeine and fake diet sugar drinks again after pretty much completely giving them up during pregnancy.  Ummm....right.  Coffee in the morning, two diet cokes before noon (and, let's face it, probably 2 more in the afternoon) is now standard again, as is the sugar-free koolaid and/or crystal light in my fridge.  Fail.

I'm also now completely addicted to Rants from Mommyland, even though it's brutal honesty about motherhood is a pretty good form of birth control in and of itself, and may actually have dissuaded me from any idea of having more than 2 children.  Also, I've pretty much convinced myself that "Lydia" and I will be best friends forever one day after I somehow find her, convince her to split a bottle of wine (or T-Box, whatever) with me, I show off my sarcasm subtle wit and southern charm, and we bond over our shared tendencies to spill things on ourselves, use foul language, and do embarassing things.  Oops, that was stalker-ish, wasn't it? 

I got a new iphone (mine was freezing constantly and cracked terribly) and for some reason I keep getting sad because I can't take a picture of the iphone WITH the iphone to post on here, even though we have other cameras which would do the job just as well.  Plus, who needs to see a picture of an iphone?

Bailey's sleep issues because of teething have been so unimaginably awful that they made me get all nerdy and look up  Hyland's teething tablets, which are supposed to be magical and were "voluntarily recalled" last year (totally my luck), on the internet and I even signed up for Hyland's to send me an email when they go back on the market.  Which needs to have happened yesterday.

aaaaaaaaand, that's all I can think of today.....Is it Friday yet?

Daily devotion blog?

Well, I need some help from you, if you're reading this (anyone? someone? crickets? tumbleweed?).  I don't discuss religion on here, at least not so far.  And to be honest, I don't discuss religion much even when I'm NOT on here. 

Not because I don't believe, because I do.  Pretty much my whole life, I was involved in church/religious activities, and I've always kept my faith. However, I think I first lost the habit of church somewhere in the lazy and maybe a little bit hungover Sundays in college, and once you've lost it, it's hard to get it back.  I definitely didn't get it back while under in the stress of law school in a new city, and although Scott and I have bouts of church-going, we've had a hard time getting motivated to actually get involved in a church, as we keep thinking we're going to move to Knoxville sometime soon (which appears to have been put off indefinitely again - I'm not trying to vague-blog, but I'm not ready to talk about that whole thing, at least not publicly, yet).  And although I know you don't need a church to have faith, and I still definitely have faith and pray daily, I think I would benefit from some outside help.  

So anyway - where was I going with this, that explanatory tangent was not necessary nor planned, but that's how blogging goes, at least for me and my complete inability to filter - while I try continue to try to convince myself that we WILL start getting at least to a Sunday morning service at least once in awhile (we are pretty much those only Easter/Christmas service people right now, especially since Bailey's schedule is so difficult to predict that I sometimes have a hard time going to the bathroom, let alone anywhere on time), I was wondering if anyone knew about any daily devotional blogs that I could add to my blog list in the right column.  I'm terrible about picking up a devotion book, or the Bible, but if it's on my blog, I'm pretty sure I'll read it.  (fyi, in case you're wondering, I got this idea when one of the blogs on the right posted a great devotion today - check it out!)

I haven't seen any blogs like that, but I'm sure there should be some good ones out there.   I could probably google it, but I don't necessarily want to weed through a lot of bad ones to finally find a good one! 

Soooo....does anyone have any ideas? 

(Why do I feel all nervous, like I'm putting up my hand for a high 5 in front of the entire internet and I'm about to get "left hangin'," as we called it in middle school?  Probably because I am.)

Happy Mother's Day!

In what may be one of the biggest understatements ever, I have to say that these last few months have changed my perspective of motherhood.

Here's what I know now, as well as pictures from our Mother's Day at the bottom:

1.  I have a newfound appreciation for my own Mom: 

I know this is cliche, but I honestly don't think it's possible to know exactly how hard the job of "mom" is until you are one.  You also don't realize how much moms are willing to give up for their children (which is approximately, um, everything), or how much every mom actually does give up for her baby (which is, well, a whole lot).  

Since Bailey was born and I became a mom, my paranoid and completely unfounded fear of somehow raising a child with whom I cannot relate and/or have to bail out of jail repeatedly has grown exponentially.  Every decision seems laced with danger and the possibility of permanent, irreversible emotional damage - from breastfeeding to sleep training.

But my relationship with own mama gives me hope.  In my humble (and obviously unbiased) opinion, she has a pretty good track record, as I feel like I turned out ok, my sister is one of my very favorite people on the planet, and the three of us are extremely close.  Plus, my sister and I have mostly stayed out of jail (I'm not gonna lie, we've had some close calls).  We don't even have any tattoos (yes, that link deserves a repost). 

So, my mom deserves some serious appreciation and love (which I hopefully expressed to her yesterday on the phone).  In addition to being a great mom, she is also a wonderful "Mimi" to Bailey, Maddie, and Caroline, and they all love her energy and fun nature. And, I may or may not need some lessons from her one day.  Because if Bailey pulls my hair/earrings and/or gives me a good pinch on the nipple one more time, my sleep-deprived self may very well go all Mommie Dearest. And then I'll have to start putting money away for bail rather than college tuition, and nobody wants that.

2.  I realize that NO day is going to be about me for a long, long time: 

On Mother's Day, Bailey woke up a full hour early at 6 a.m. and let us know, under no uncertain terms, that she needed to be fed immediately.  Scott wasn't feeling good, so it was up to me.

So, I may or may not have spent the morning of my very first Mother's Day EVER very sleepy,  trying to convince Bailey to eat, pouring myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast, and trying to both entertain Bailey and work on her crawling skills (as instructed by daycare). All while simultaneously trying to put a dent in our ever-growing mound of laundry and to clean up the thick layer of dirt and dog hair covering the cardboard box apartment.  Lovely.

Also, probably because of a combination of her unusually early wake up call and the new teeth we can see pushing their way out, Bailey showed off a brand-new sasspot 'tude yesterday.  This 'tude exhibited itself through shockingly loud, repeated screeching whenever she wasn't getting 115% of both Scott's and my attention, crying after I let her take a sip out of my water glass but wouldn't let her fish out all the ice with her (dirty) hands, and repeatedly, and seemingly purposefully, hitting her food bowls and spoons to send (very colorful) food flying across the newly-clean room to entertain herself while being fed. 

Not that I ever thought Mother's Day would be all unicorns and rainbows, but I wouldn't have minded her saving the 'tude for a day or so.

3.  Babies grow up:

I know, I know, that seems like the most obvious statement in the world, but I'm not sure I could think that far ahead when I was pregnant, and I could barely think at all during the first few months of her life.  While I was pregnant, I knew that B would come out eventually, and I knew she'd be a newborn (scary scary newborns!), and I had some vague notion of soccer games/shopping/manicures down the road (I am still so excited about that!). 

But, for some reason, every time I see Bailey do something new and "grown up," it honestly surprises the hell out of me and seems like the biggest miracle on the planet.  I don't think I realized how temporary the baby phase really is, and how fast it goes. 

For instance, when I see B asserting her will and pushing my buttons, I get a small glimpse of some less than pleasant future fights carefully worded "discussions."   

But then, when I see her light up like a Christmas tree when Scott or I come in the room, and feel the love in her kisses and hugs, I know that, whatever happens, we're in this together, and I just have to work on making sure she has the tools to turn out even better than I ever thought was possible (when can I get those lessons, mom?). 

But truly, being a mom has been the most amazing thing I've ever experienced.  Every day is an adventure, and I'm extremely lucky to have sweet Bailey as my introduction to this wonderful experience.  She truly makes my life better and more fun every day, and I can't put into words how much I love her!

So, I hope you all had a wonderful Mother's Day!

Yesterday, we spent the afternoon at Shelby Farms' dog park to let Reilly get some exercise (Bailey's first trip!):

Hey Dad!

Sweet girl - and yes, I had Scott edit me out of this one - and based on how much I share on here, you can just imagine how bad it must have been!

Sweet Reilly dog in her happy place

Hanging with dad in the grass

Love these three!

On this day last year, Manicure Update, and Salsa!

[fyi - sorry if you read this before I got a chance to edit it - the post got deleted at about 10:30 at night, right before I was about to go to bed and after I may have had a glass of wine, and when I re-typed it as quickly as possible, I made some typos and left stuff out, and I was too tired to reread and edit it all before republishing.]

(OH. MY. GOSH.  - I had a full post written and published and it got deleted it somehow when I went in to edit one little word :( - so here it is again, the best I can remember......)

1.  On this day last year...........We found out we were having a girl!  It was a wonderful day, Tracy and Preston were in town, so we invited them to go with us and they got to see some of the ultrasound after we found out (it was just the two of us when we found out).  Afterwards, we went to buy our sweet girl a stuffed pink giraffe to celebrate the occasion, then had lunch with Scott's mom, Tracy, and Preston.  We were SO happy to find out what we were having and SO happy and to know that our sweet nieces had another girl to hang out with!  These beautiful girls are going to be trouble, and I secretly love it (at least now, before the trouble has begun).

2.  Manicure!  Tomorrow would have marked the two week anniversary of my gel (shellac?  which is right?) manicure.  I loved it, but it was time for it to GO.   I took a picture first:

(As you can see from this picture, my nails were still in decent shape, but a couple of them had chipped and they had grown out a good bit.  What you can't see is that the thick layer of polish was peeling up a tiny bit in spots, in a way that totally reminded me of being a little girl and using that super cheap nail polish that would peel off so easily that I would sit and paint, peel, and repeat for ours.  Anyone else remember that?)

So, then, I peeled, and I'm not gonna lie, it was a little bit fun!  Here's what it looked like immediately after (fyi, no bleeding occurred, although a few stubborn spots would not peel):

This is what they look like now, a few hours later and a little more recovered: 

(still no bleeding, just stubborn polish).

Long story short (at least for me):  I would DEFINITELY do this again. Especially for a vacation.  It lasted SO much longer than a normal manicure, which literally doesn't usually make it past me starting my car in the parking lot of the nail salon.  I will, however, be sure to have plenty of lotion on hand for recovery afterwards.

3. SALSA!  I love salsa.  And despite Scott's distaste for onions, spices, and anything Mexican that doesn't have a number in front of it, he does too.  At some point, I decided to make a black bean salsa.  I was either unable to find an internet recipe I wanted to make, or too lazy to do a search, so I decided to make my own recipe (mistake).  But then, after I picked up the can of black beans for the salsa, I realized that God had clearly recognized that he had not made me a chef and had therefore put a recipe for black bean salsa ON THE BACK OF THE CAN!  If that's not a sign, I don't know what is.

So, in honor of Cinco de Mayo and even though this is the least authentically Mexican salsa recipe ever, you should make this very easy staple salsa immediately, as it is delicious and healthy (as long as you don't mind stuff out of cans) and man-pleasing (or neighbor, or pregnant lady, whomever you need to please).  And yes, I went all disorganized Pioneer Woman for this food post - enjoy!

Cast of characters:



1 can black beans, drained a little but not rinsed, and preferably seasoned recipe (although I have used the non-seasoned, and it was fine.  Apparently, I have no bean palate.)

1 can diced basil/garlic/oregano tomatoes (yes, I realize these are typically Italian spices, just stay with me here)

1 can diced tomatoes (petite or otherwise, up to you)

1 can white shoepeg corn (drained)

Chopped Onion (I usually use 1/2 to 3/4 a small to medium onion - up to you!)

Chopped Jalapeno (to your taste - after all the "cans" used above and my hatred of the burn factor associated with raw jalapenos, I use the pickled Kroger brand jalapenos)

At least 8 oz of Italian dressing (Trust me on this one).

Dump everything canned in a large bowl:

Then, add your chopped onion and jalapeno:

And add your dressing - I forgot to take a pic (sorry)  but the dressing is key, so don't forget it. 

Then, and this is the MOST IMPORTANT PART:  do not taste the salsa for at least 3 hours, but preferably at least 24 (I'm serious - I don't joke about salsa, and yes, that's 24 full hours. I know, I know, it seems like an incredibly long time to wait for salsa, but it's totally worth it.  Promise. The flavor just keeps getting better.)

Then serve with tortilla chips (we usually use the Scoops) and eat your heart out!

Happy Cinco de Mayo, y'all!

SEVEN MONTHS! (I'm not yelling at you, I'm just amazed)

I cannot believe my beautiful, amazing, sweet little girl is seven months old!

Clearly, she's having a little bit of trouble believing it herself....

OK, so I'm how old?  And you want me to what?  

Smile?  I'm just not sure.....

Can't I just open my mouth and KIND OF smile just enough to show off my two awesome teeth?

No?  Ok, then I will smile my beautiful smile and even show off some impressive posture!

Then I will yell at you in joy from our favorite rocker/glider which you love and make me take pictures on just cause you like it so much!

At 7 months, Bailey: 

Is starting to GET. IT. - I mean, she even knows certain words, including "bite," which will make her open her mouth wide, and it is amazing to see! (Video proof of her "getting things" and just being super cute playing with her dad):

(Yes, I thought about trying to edit out the disgustingness that is our cluttered apartment in the background, but let's face it, I have no shame, so just go ahead and judge me and enjoy that.)

Has decided that she really, really likes her mom and dad people and will cry when people that she really, really likes leave the room without her "permission" (aka distraction).

Still just wants to roll anywhere she wants to go - daycare is working on crawling, but I'm still pretty sure she'd rather jump and stand (though she's done neither yet) than crawl, and I'm in no hurry!  

Loves sweet potatoes, squash, green beans, and carrots (all veggies - I hope this keeps up!). She is ok with just about everything else - the only things she noticeably doesn't like are prunes and peas (I'm still working on peas, but I'm actually ok with no prunes because they have some less-than-desirable side effects).

Has graduated to the Infant II class at daycare (as of Monday, and she skipped the baby in the bed ahead of her because she's clearly a GENIUS) - which kinda made me sad at first, but has actually turned out to be AWESOME because she usually takes at least an hour to two hour nap in the afternoon, which is a vast improvement over the three 15 to 20 minute naps she was taking in her Infant I class, and makes her such a happier baby in the evenings (as long as she sleeps until at least 7 a.m. or so....)

Is in a phase where she wakes up between 5-5:45 a.m. and will NOT go back to bed in her crib, even though she's clearly exhausted and will fall asleep almost immediately on my chest when I pick her up.  We tried to cry it out with checks, but it was terrible and I can't do it.  So, from when she first wakes up until when she REALLY wakes up, she sleeps on my chest.  In our bed.  For the foreseeable future.  And I love every minute of it.  Don't tell the pediatricians. 

LOVES LOVES LOVES Reilly.  I mean, she visibly gets excited and jumps up and down when she sees Reilly, and wants to grab her fur and hug her neck. The feeling is completely mutual.  Reilly has to be held back from constantly kissing Bailey when Bailey wants to play with her, and they are about the cutest pair I've ever seen. 

Has said a prompted and convincing "dada" on at least two occasions (early in the month) and got out a somewhat convincing "mama" twice last Sunday in the grocery store.  She's very rarely in the mood to mock what we say, but we love it when she does!

Has finally (knock on wood) conquered her constant congestion.  (MOM FAIL ALERT - I'm pretty sure (now) that she had some kind of sinus infection, but I kept thinking it was constant daycare illness, as we would have good days here and there, and then miserable days, and then good days, and, well, I just didn't know.)  Sorry, B. :(.

Still loves the exersaucer and jumperoo, but would probably rather sit on a blanket and play with toys until Reilly knocks her over.

Still loves to give kisses and hugs, and we may love it even more than she does.  Best. Feeling. Ever.

I could go on and on, but honestly, I still find myself looking at her and wondering how in the world we got so lucky all the time.  She definitely has a sweet heart, although she's not above asserting her will if she wants to do something different than what we're having her do (love that - wonder where she gets it?).  She makes me smile and laugh and sometimes want to pull my hair out every day, and I just can't get enough of her (although I am reaching that kind of freaking out point which makes me wonder where in the world did my baby go and why is she wearing SHOES (which are now *required* by daycare)). 

I just LOVE her sooooo much and want to squeeze her and keep her as my sweet baby forever!  

We love you, Bailey, more than you will EVER know!

The Baby Weight Chronicles - Part II: I'm ginormous :(

(Part I is here - a summary:  I wasn't a huge fan of being pregnant, but I was and will always be a huge fan of having an excuse to eat whatever I wanted.  So I did and gained 52 pounds. The. End.)

After having Bailey, I convinced myself I looked pretty good.  In fact, as I was no longer carrying an 8 lb, 13 oz baby in my belly, I felt downright skinny. They should bottle such skinny-light feelings.  I still remember babbling to my mother in law about how skinny I felt while I was still in the hospital and on some rockin' painkillers.

Unfortunately, that feeling didn't last too long. 

I'll never forget the first time I weighed myself after Bailey was born.  It was November 1st, so Bailey was a month old, and we'd finally gotten an offer on our house which, after a good bit of back and forth, we'd accepted. I was free from the strings of a "for sale, someone can call at any minute, keep it spotless" house (still not sure how I managed to pull that off with a newborn, as now I can't even keep our apartment, which is half the size, acceptably clean with a 7 month old).  So - I finally asked Scott to bring down the scale that I'd shuffled away to the attic when the house was on the market. You know, to avoid it's evil, demon eyes declutter.  

Well, this is a picture from about the same date I finally stepped on the scale for the first time:

(Here is the fat girl who formerly lived in my head and has now emerged, in all her glory.  Ugh, this is worse than sharing the pregnancy pictures.  Apparently I am incapable of not sharing too much with you people.)

As you can probably guess from the picture above, it was (still) bad.

To be specific, I still weighed 27 pounds more than my prenatal weight. (honestly, did you expect me to reveal an actual number?  Because I can drink A LOT of wine, but not enough to make me reveal my weight, even a past weight, on the internet.  Not now, not ever.)

But, approximately 25 pounds had seemingly magically disappeared with Bailey's birth and the first month of her life despite the insane amount of Halloween candy I had consumed almost guilt-free (you need extra calories to make milk, obvs).  I could *almost* squeeze my booty into a couple pairs of pre-pregnancy jeans.  So, I wasn't completely discouraged.

I started to get motivated.  I was still pumping my milk for Bailey, and desperately trying to increase my supply, so I knew I couldn't get too strict with my diet.  But I started using the LoseIt app on my iPhone to keep up with my calories.  I started trying to exercise on the elliptical (we have one in our house) every day for an hour.

Initially, the weight came off pretty well.  I was down about 4 pounds by the time Thanksgiving came along. But then, I ate Thanksgiving dinner, let my milk dry up, and the Christmas season began.  I started working 3 days a week in December, and our office had a celebration called the "10 days of Christmas" during which people in the office took turns bringing in dessert and/or snack foods every day for the 10 days before the Christmas break.  I would end up snacking all day long while joking with my co-workers about how our celebration should be called the "10 pounds of Christmas."  I didn't realize at the time how right I was.  As much as I thought I was still keeping track of my calories, clearly I was not, as all 4 of the pounds which had come off before Thanksgiving were back by New Years.

I was still stalled out in January.  Then, at a doctor's appointment on February 2nd, I learned that I was still the exact same weight that I had been at my 6 week checkup after Bailey's birth.   After really wishing I still had some of those rocking painkillers ugly crying to my mom and sister during my whole drive back to the office, I got more serious.  I finally re-accepted the fact that I just flat out don't have the metabolism most people have, and got back to a similar plan to that which I had been on prior to being pregnant.  I exercised a minimum of an hour and 15 minutes a day, 6 days a week, and kept my calorie intake to about what Weight Watchers recommends.

Despite my continuing efforts, as of now, only 11 more pounds have come off.  I still need to lose 16 pounds to get to my pre-pregnancy weight, but I'd rather lose 20 and get back to my preferred weight.  It's a struggle, and it seems that all weight loss has stalled (again) in the last month or so.  I have moments when I feel confident that I'm going to lose the weight, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that the fact that I can't fit into about 90% of my clothes can be overwhelming and depressing.  I don't feel good about myself, and it simultaneously depresses and amazes me to see that it seems like all the recently pregnant women I know are back at their pre-pregnancy weights, if not lower.

It's a fight, and I'm fighting every day.  But I think we all know how this story will probably end......as soon I step on that scale and find out that I've finally reached my goal weight, I'll be pregnant again within a month.  And the whole cycle will begin again.  That's just how my luck works.