Why not shake things up?

Big news in the household this week…Brigid has started reaching for people that she wants to have hold her! (Ok, big news for me, I guess, but probably not as interesting to most of you. It’s a little ridiculous what excites me these days…) I thought maybe she was starting to bend towards me last weekend when Steve was holding her, but it was kind of hard to tell. It seemed like more of a ‘Steve leaning the baby towards me’ move than a ‘baby leaning towards me herself’ kind of thing. But last night, we officially hit the point where she was reaching out her arms for me when I went to take her from him. (She also reached for my mother-in-law yesterday afternoon while my father-in-law was holding her, so it’s a good thing she did the same thing for me, or we’d be having words, that baby and I.) Because I’m pretty obnoxious, I kept handing her back to Steve so we could try it again. I wanted to be sure.

I’m sure now. I’m also sure that my husband finds me annoying, but whatever.

I think, maybe, possibly, she gave me a kiss, too. We’ve taken to calling her vampire baby because she does this thing where, while you’re holding her, she puts her hands on both sides of your face, pulls you towards her, and tries to get her mouth on your nose or cheek. But she does it in a sneaky kind of way, where she’s all sweetly patting your cheek, then suddenly she’s got you and she dives in for the kill. She’s all ‘I love you, I love you, *pat* *pat* *pat*, *headbutt*, BAM! I’m gumming your nose now’. She’s a quick one, that kid. It’s a little too ‘I want to suck your blood’, hence the nickname. I thought it was just a teething thing, since everything she touches goes straight into her mouth, but I’m starting to think it’s more of an open mouth kiss than a bite now. It’s all very adorable. Well, it will be until the teeth do start coming in. If she starts drawing blood, we’ll know we have a problem on our hands.

But it’s a good thing that she pulled out the cute on me last night, because Brigid has hit another ‘let’s not let mom and dad get comfortable in the routine’ stage this week. She’s started fighting her bedtime. And randomly waking herself up after she’s been asleep for awhile. And stressing us (well, me at least) out with flashbacks to the newborn days when she’d wake up every couple of hours and it would take forever to get her back asleep. I feel like we’ve had a relatively easy time of it, getting her to sleep through the night, and I’m just waiting for it to all come crashing down. I’ve heard horror stories, and I keep expecting the worst. Last night, right as I was drifting from semi-conscious to knocked-the-heck-out, she let out a screech that scared the bejeebus out of me in the way only a loud noise yanking you out of your sleep can. She then proceeded to fall right back asleep, while I lay in bed with my heart pounding, waiting for it to happen again and wondering if it was going to require a trip to the nursery. It didn’t. But it might as well have, for as long as I lay there awake after the fact.* But baby kisses, they make up for a lot. So even with midnight screeching, we’re good.

As long as she doesn’t start reaching for other people while I’m holding her.


No, my skin doesn’t sparkle in the sun. Why do you ask?


*And, as if random baby wakings weren’t bad enough, I think one of the dogs fell out of bed, too. That’s the only scenario I can think of to explain the sound of a body hitting the floor at three in the morning, which, in case you were wondering, isn’t the most peaceful way to wake up at any point in the morning, much less at 3am. And dog kisses aren’t nearly as cute as baby kisses, so they’re going to have to find another way to make it up to me.

All of you parrotheads covered in…coats.

And that right there, that about sums up our 2010 Jimmy Buffett experience. As the post title (sung by Mr. Buffett himself) suggests, last night was a little chilly. Don’t get me wrong, it was a ton of fun. But it was COLD! I guess you’re going to get that sometimes when you hold a concert in April. Even with the cold, I still think it was worth it. But I was drinking, so what do I know?

The whole thing didn’t start out as well as I’d hoped. We left work around 4:30, and it was pretty ugly when we stopped for gas.



Yes, those are raindrops on the windshield of the car.

But, it all seemed to be getting better when we headed for the highway.



And then it got bad again.


But we persevered! This was the first Buffett concert Steve and I have been to that didn’t involve a tailgating production (with the exception of our very first one, when we didn’t know any better...but even that one included a four foot long Slim Jim, so I think that maybe still ranks above this one) . Instead, it involved an actual tailgate and a six-pack of beer. And we made it work…



…even though someone bought a six-pack of beer that required a bottle opener, but didn’t think to bring said bottle opener.


That’s right, there is a foot brush/pumice stone in the vehicle, but no bottle opener. I know, right? Do I even need to mention that this didn’t work? We used the trailer hitch. We are nothing, if not resourceful.

We headed towards the concert a little early, because we didn’t have anything else to do, and I kind of needed to use the restroom. Unfortunately, we were so early, they hadn’t even opened the gate yet. It’s ok, though, because there was plenty to entertain us while we waited.


Neither one of us had eaten dinner, and we were starting to get a little hungry, so I stayed behind to hold down our spot on the lawn, while Steve went after food and beverage.


He went with the dinner of champions. And I loved it.


The weather, which was spitting on us as we were walking to the concert, miraculously cleared up. Again.



In fact, Steve decided to do a little sunbathing while we waited.


Did I mention that it was cold out?


And the bathroom line. I spent some time in the bathroom line.


At least there were some reading materials for me.



And that’s about all that was fit to print. There are some potty mouthed people out there, and this is a family blog, after all.

We had a really great view of the stage.


And the concert was just awesome, as always. He played most of the old standards, including Come Monday, Cheeseburger in Paradise, Margaritaville, A Pirate Looks at Forty (my personal favorite), One Particular Harbor, and Changes in Latitude. All are fabulous songs. And he did Woman Goin’ Crazy on Caroline Street, which he doesn’t normally do, but I LOVE! And he brought Zac Brown out for a couple of songs, because apparently Zac Brown is from Atlanta? I had no idea.

There was a small parade of people who had partied a little too hard and had to be escorted out by medics. And the smell of something more than a cigarette floated by every once in awhile. And an ND grad of 2000 stopped to talk to us because of our blanket (His first question to us when he found out we were graduates, too? "What dorm did you live in?" Shocking, no?). And I started up a conversation with a random stranger who was sitting next to us during intermission. But there were no beach ball casualties this year...no one spilled a drink on themselves after taking a beach ball hard to the face, and no one fell down the hill trying to hit one into the crowd. So I think that means I'm getting more mature in my old age? Or it just means the opportunity didn't present itself. Either way, I didn't make a fool out of myself, and that's definitely a good time in my book.

We didn’t stay for the encore because we were busy running for the heated seats of the car, but it’s ok. I don’t think we really missed all that much.

All in all, I’d say we had a really great time. Well, I know I did, and Steve seemed to enjoy himself, too. I just hope Jimmy sticks to touring for another bunch of years…I’d love to take Brigid along someday.

Just maybe when it’s not so cold…

It's 5 o'clock somewhere...

Kids, this is a big day for me. It's probably second on my list of favorite days of the year, right behind Christmas. Well, maybe third, because I'm assuming Brigid's birthday will end up being a pretty important day for me, too.

What is today, you ask?

IT'S BUFFETT DAY!!!

Forget all of that scientific stuff that says June 21st is the first day of summer, because really? The first day of summer is when Buffett comes to town. Unfortunately, my first day of summer isn't really shaping up to be very pretty...

According to weather.com:


According to accuweather.com:



Steve says always go with accuweather.com, so that's what we're going with. Although this screen shot doesn't include the 4pm thunderstorms it says we're supposed to get hit with, but we're just going to ignore those. And tomorrow calls for 70 degree and sunny weather, but I refuse to be bitter!

Anyway, last year when we went to Buffett, I was pregnant, and I made Steve shell out the big bucks for pavilion tickets, because if I was doing Buffett without the help of a margarita, I was doing it from the more family friendly confines of the covered seats. This year, we're back on the lawn! And while this won't be one of the wild and crazy Buffett concerts of old since we're not heading down early to tailgate, and I have to get up for work tomorrow, and well, let's face it, I'm just getting old, I'm still excited to be back in the crowd. Buffett just isn't the same if you're not in the cheap seats.

And that's what I'll be telling myself tonight when I'm wading through the mud and the rain that just might make an appearance. And I'll keep telling myself that while I dodge drunk people using the hill as a slip and slide during the downpour. Because no matter what, I'll probably end up having a great time.

I love Buffett.

PS: I was a little sad that I wasn't going to see Brigid today since she usually gets up after I leave, and she'll be asleep before I get home tonight. But she woke up early this morning, just to see Steve and I off! That kid, she's awfully considerate sometimes. Well, to me, at least. My mother-in-law may not have been so excited about starting her day 30-45 minutes early, especially when she's working overtime today anyway.

So, yeah, thanks Karen! We owe you...

This weekend would have been much better without the pureed meat. And the tornado watch.

I love me some bullet points! Here we go…

-We added meat to Brigid’s diet this weekend. We added pureed turkey, with turkey gravy, to be exact. And it was exactly as disgusting as I thought it would be. And, at the risk of grossing everyone out, I’d also like to mention that it severely ups the stink factor of the baby and her movements, if you get my drift. Honestly, it’s almost enough to make me want to raise a vegetarian baby. Because that sh*t is stinky. Literally.

-In other big news involving the baby and her growth curve, we graduated to the big bath tub on Friday night, and it was a dangerous move, let me tell you. On the one hand, Brigid loves it. It gives her much more room to kick her legs and flail her arms and just generally throw a body flinging party in the evening. For me, though, it wasn’t so much fun. In fact, it actually reminded me of when we used to give my old dog Sam a bath in the bathtub. I’m pretty sure at the end of the bath, there was more water on me, the floor, and the walls than in the tub itself. Also? It’s ridiculously nerve wracking having a baby that now sits up in the big tub instead of one that lays down in the little baby tub. So not a fan of all of this development.

-We were on tornado alert this weekend. And because our weatherman is a little extreme, we’d basically been on tornado alert for this weekend since last Tuesday. With UPDATED! COMPUTER MODELS! EVERY NEWSCAST! That basically said storms were coming at 3am on Sunday morning. And I tend to get a little uneasy (or psychotically panicky) in the face of bad weather. So, I suggested we all sleep in the basement Saturday night, just to be safe. When that idea wasn’t well received (by my non-midwest raised husband), I instead suggested we just stick the cats down there to give me two less things to worry about. That was turned down, also. But I insisted on sleeping with the tv on. Because it made sense to me to have it on so if the sirens did go off (and we still had power), I could see quickly what was happening. Just in case.

Guess what? Nothing happened here, aside from Steve waking up grouchy on Sunday because apparently he doesn’t sleep well with the tv on. We barely had any storms of any kind around my house, thank goodness. But it’s nice to see my severe weather based neurotic tendencies have been amped up to a new level of crazy by the addition of a baby. Good times.

-In less ‘Tara should be sedated’ news, we interviewed a potential baby-sitter this weekend. We don’t really need a baby-sitter right now, but it seemed like a good idea to have one we’re comfortable leaving Brigid with if we ever do need to. She’s the live-in nanny for one of my co-workers, and she’s looking for extra jobs in the evenings or on the weekends. And she seems really nice. And Brigid really seemed to like her. And I’m 99% sure she’s better with kids (including mine) than I am. She was all about music classes and books and pointing out colors to Brigid as they played. So, apparently that’s something I need to work on.


And that, my friends, was my weekend.

And, honestly? It was exhausting. I’m glad it’s Monday…

If this is what Botox feels like, I think I'll pass.

After 3 shots of novacaine, this is me practicing my Elvis lip curl:


Convincing, no?

I was seriously concerned that I would scare Brigid when I got home, considering I could move nothing on the left side of my face from my chin to my forehead (honestly, is it normal to feel the novacaine in your eye?!?!?!), but she was more cheerful last night than she has been in awhile. Apparently, my impression of Two Faced from Batman amused her. At least I don't have to worry about her feelings when I go back in a month to do the right side.*


*I take good care of my teeth. I do! I just had a small cavity on each side of my mouth, and the dentist didn't want to numb both sides at once because she wanted to leave me a side to chew with, should I get hungry. Not that I could chew anything since I felt like I couldn't control my tongue. But considering how much novacaine she pumped in me yesterday, I'm kind of glad she went that route because there's a good chance I wouldn't have been able to do much beyond mumble incoherently if we'd done both. Although now I have to go through this all over again on the other side, so maybe I should have pushed to finish it all up yesterday. It's not like I had anything good to say last night, anyway...

Who needs a prize winning fish?

I’m starting to feel a little bit of concern for my sanity. I mean, my kid, she’s cute and all, and now that we don’t have to be as concerned about germs and sickness and the effects of her heart condition, we are able to get out of the house some to experience life in the real world. But even with that, we don’t get out as much as we used to before she came along. And my replacement for life in the real world? It’s life in the fake world of We Rule (Yes, sorry, it’s another iPhone post. I told you I have a problem. My life, it is all baby and iPhone. Baby. And. iPhone.).

We Rule is an online world where I have a castle. And villagers. And a farm, a mine, a logging camp, a fishing pond, a windmill to grind grain, and a bakery. And I’m saving up to build a butcher shop. And there’s a big frog in a crown that hops around town that I think came with the pond. Even though it’s basically as big as the pond, and five times the size of the people. And I just placed an order for 10 conjurations from the wizard tower that Steve built over in his kingdom. And, oh my goodness, I am such a loser.

I blame my brother-in-law, actually. He keeps introducing me to these things. He started me on Words With Friends (although that is at least somewhat educational…or that’s what I tell myself), and he found the We Rule app. He’s the reason I have to set an alarm on my phone to remind me that I have crops to harvest before they go bad. He’s also the reason my OCD tendencies have manifested themselves in 150 redesigns of my village to make it juuuuust right from an aesthetic standpoint. I mean, my fake kingdom and its fake inhabitants deserve a well-planned lay-out. Am I right, or am I right? Of course I’m right.

Anyway, I used to make fun of Steve and Greg for a weird online game they played that involved building a city, and fighting other people’s cities, and forming alliances, and all of that nerdy stuff that I wanted no part of. Then Greg found this game for the iPhone, and I was all ‘Sure, I’ll be your friend! I want to harvest corn and build cottages!’ And now, my life is over, and Brigid is going to complain to all of her friends about how lame her mother is. And she’ll totally be right. In my defense, though, this all started while people were at my house watching the Masters, and golf is boring. I needed something to do that day. Unfortunately, I got hooked.

I’m ashamed of myself for it. And yet, I can’t stop. And I don’t think I want to. I want to get to the level where I can build the dragon’s lair. Because what’s cooler than a dragon’s lair?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have carrots that are ready for harvesting.

Random tangent…when my sisters were younger and wanted to play with Barbies (Jess) or the doll house (Mary), I’d play along with them to the point where I could get everything situated and arranged the way I wanted it, then I’d try to talk them into a new activity. I like the initial set-up of a game. The maintenance of the game? I don’t have the patience for that. I think maybe that’s why I like this…every day there can be a new set-up! Plus, I always have to have something else to do when I’m watching tv, and it’s even actually come in handy when I work out. There’s this crop that takes 5 minutes to grow, and I use it as a timer for intervals on the elliptical, and…oh shut up. It’s not that bad.

Baby's first party foul

So, Friday, I was all cocky with my post about how Brigid had survived that morning's six month check-up with no problem. I said she woke up from her nap like nothing happened. I thought I’d gotten pretty lucky. Guess what? I spoke too soon.

I spent Friday afternoon in the clutches of angry baby. Angry baby who was exhausted, slightly feverish, and not at all hungry. Angry baby who continued to spit her food at me over the course of the day and wasn’t happy unless we were dancing around the family room to the Jason Mraz Sesame Street episode on repeat. It wasn’t all that much fun, let me tell you. But, with a little bit of baby Tylenol, and a good night of sleep, Saturday was much better. In fact, she was doing well enough that we decided to brave the Atlanta traffic and head down to Candler Park for Brigid’s first outdoor festival/concert.

**Full disclosure: While I will fully admit that I had a good time, and I very much enjoyed getting out of the house for a couple of hours for something other than work, and I was glad to spend time outside with the baby, I would also like to acknowledge that the whole process of leaving the house for an event such as an outdoor festival is much, much harder when it involves a stroller. But I’d totally do it again. I get cabin fever very easily. And I am a glutton for punishment.**

Now, all started out well for us. We found a great parking spot (I’ll gloss over the fact that I yelled at Steve for passing up an open parking spot so he could drive around a little longer looking for a better one…let’s just say he’s lucky it worked out in his favor.), and there was a nice breeze out. We had to wait in line for a little bit, but it wasn’t terrible. Katie (my sister-in-law) and a couple of friends had headed down earlier and claimed a spot on the hill by a tree, so we could sit in the shade with the baby. We enjoyed the 4pm feeding.


That stroller behind us? That belonged to the group next to us that had brought a maybe month-old baby out for the day. One, is it weird that I barely remember Brigid being that small? Maybe there is something to that whole birth/newborn amnesia thing. Two, when Brigid was that small, I didn’t want to get out of my sweatpants for any length of time, let alone be seen in public, so I was a little in awe of the mother.

Anyway, we hung out for about two hours, before we started getting ready to go home. Katie laid Brigid down for a diaper change, and she seemed to enjoy the spot, so we let her stretch out for a few minutes after the change. I decided I needed a picture to commemorate the event, and Katie set her beer down to grab my phone for me out of the diaper bag. Now, the next few seconds are a little hazy, but I think as we were trying to get the baby’s attention to take the picture, she unleashed her patented ‘double leg kick with a full body twist’ move that scares me to death on the changing table, and she managed to catch the beer in the process. Of course, she was laying downhill of the beer. And of course, she ended up in a pool of the stuff. Which I think officially qualifies me as a bad mom? At least Brigid can claim a memorable first concert experience. Well, memorable for those of us who will actually remember it. As one of the by-standers said, you have to start them off early. Or not. Ok, worst mom ever.

Between the beer bath and the freak out from Katie and I that followed said bath, Brigid was pretty upset. Luckily, I had packed an extra sleeper for her, just in case. Although the just in case I was preparing for was a diaper accident, not a wayward beer, but prepared is prepared. Out of all of this, the part I’m least proud of is that I was laughing so hard, I could barely get the poor kid into her back-up outfit. Needless to say, she was not as amused…


But I think she recovered nicely…


So, yeah. We headed home at this point. I think she probably deserved it. I just hope this experience isn’t a sign of what’s to come for any other outing we make with the baby. Because we didn’t quite make it to the Renaissance Fair this weekend, but believe me, we will go at some point this year. And really, who knows what might go wrong there?

6 Month Check-up

And we were back in a doctor's office today. Again. These babies, man, they spend A LOT of time visiting with doctors. It's crazy.

Luckily, today was just the general 6 month check-up variety of visit, so no big thing. Just a couple of shots, a dose of some (what I'm assuming is nasty tasting, judging by Brigid's expression) liquid medicine, and another weigh in. Oh, how did the weigh in go? Well, this kid, she's weighing in at 17lbs 9oz now, which I call 'chubby bunny' and the doctor calls 'thriving'. Either way, we know Brigid is having no problems adapting to whatever new feeding schedules we throw at her, so that's good. Also? We know that my arms should rival that of an American Gladiator as far as muscle size goes. Oh yeah, and that weight? It puts her in the 80th percentile according to the nurse, but right on the edge of the 85th percentile according to the doctor. So there's that. Her length is measuring at 26 1/4 inches, which is in the 75th percentile.

We had some serious crying happen before the shots even touched her, basically because we are starting to get a little leery of strangers, and also because it was almost nap time. And I think maybe she knows what the pre-shot alcohol swab means, because that gets her all riled up. But she calmed down pretty quickly after the fact, and she was out cold by the time we got home (From an office that's 2 1/2 minutes from our house. Kid was exhausted...). She woke up from her nap like nothing happened, just as cheerful as can be, but I'm wondering if the whole thing messes with her appetite a little, because there was very little cereal consumed at lunch today. I couldn't tell if she just wasn't hungry, or if she just thought it was hilarious to spit her food at me, or if it was maybe a combination of the two. I'm leaning towards door number three, I think. But in all seriousness, does this look like the face of a kid that would spit her food out at you?


Yes. Yes it does.

Apparently, we are ready to move on to stage 2 foods, so there's that. We're also supposed to replace one of her formula bottles with a sippy cup of water, but I imagine that's going to go over like a lead balloon. And there were some instructions about building up to three meals and two snacks a day, feeding two different kinds of food to her at once, and maybe eating real adult food at some point? I don't even know anymore. Every time I start to get the hang of one stage of development, the doctor has to go and switch it up on me. I don't want to learn anything new. She's eating baby food and formula until she's 16.

And that's that.

This was totally not my idea...

Last year, when I was pregnant with Brigid, but before we knew she was a she, Steve made a trip to Augusta National to watch one of the Masters practice rounds. Beautiful course, cheap egg salad and pimento cheese sandwiches, moon pies, far away pictures of golfers that I didn’t know, blah, blah, blah. Also, maybe a picture of Tiger Woods’ spit? Or somebody’s spit? I don’t remember. Let’s just say I wasn’t all that interested in the details. I will say that the moon pie was excellent, though. Anyway, Steve, in addition to his bag o’ food, came home with something very similar to this:


Yes, that's right. He had purchased our unborn baby a golf onesie. A golf onesie that, in my very strong opinion, is not meant for a little girl. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a proponent of the whole pink jersey trend. I think you should wear your team colors proudly, male or female. Case in point, she already has a black and orange Carson Palmer jersey, blue and white Colts booties, and a black and red Cincinnati Reds onesie. But in this case, I’m just going to say that the whole look comes off a little too boy-like for my taste. (Also, can I just say it seems a little hypocritical to me that we’re dressing our daughter in an outfit promoting a place where she wouldn’t even be allowed to play? You know, if she could play golf. Or walk. Whatever.) But Steve was very excited about this shirt, and, being the absolutely amazing wife that I am, I let him have his way. This time. But I did my darnedest to girly the kid up some in the process. The result?



Ha! Given what I had to work with, I think I did a fantastic job. Even if she doesn’t quite match.

At least I can tell her to blame her father.

Random Thoughts

Miscellaneous thoughts for Tuesday…

- I got gum in my hair today. Gum. (Bonus best friend points to you if you read that using the voice/inflection Sandra Bullock used in Speed when she faked gum on her seat to get away from the chatty tourist on the bus. Man, that is a seriously underrated movie...) I had to give myself an impromptu hair cut to get it out. When did I become five years old again? Obviously, I can’t be trusted to act like an adult. In other equally shocking news, water is wet…

- The forecast this week calls for 75-80 degree weather with sun through Saturday. Weeks like this make it incredibly hard to be in the office, and I kind of wish I was at home on the back porch with the baby today.

- What would I be doing on the back porch with the baby, if I was at home today? Probably playing peek-a-boo, actually. It’s Brigid’s newest trick, and it’s pretty funny to watch. She’ll hold the burp cloth over her head, then slam it down into her lap, giggling, while I say ‘peek-a-boo!’ (Honestly, where would you be without me to explain the rules of the game to you? I am nothing if not helpful.). It’s a little violent, really, the speed at which she plays, but she seems to find herself hilarious, so we’ll go with it for now. Along with a self-developed game where she holds her hands above her head while we ask her ‘How big is Brigid? Soooo big!’, Brigid is learning to keep us all entertained. I’m actually a little surprised at how quickly babies start to pick up on things, truth be told. I think I expected her to remain a lump of baby for a little longer, but I guess that’s not the way it works. Damn.

-Steve is leaving tomorrow for another business trip, this time to Chicago. Apparently, this trip calls for some store visits in the Wrigleyville area. Tomorrow afternoon. Around 2:20pm. About the same time the Cubs are playing a day game. Interesting timing, if you ask me…coughBULLSHITcough.

-I may or may not be going to the Georgia Renaissance fair this weekend. I am way too excited about this possibility. I also may have already decided we’re buying pretty headbands with ribbons to wear around while we’re there. My child is going to be ridiculously embarrassed by me when she’s older, isn’t she?

Hey, at least I know enough to draw the line at renting costumes…

Late...AGAIN!

Yeah. So. Easter.

Easter was over a week ago, and we took some really cute pictures. And much like St. Patrick’s Day, I’m obviously a little behind the times in sharing these really cute pictures. And this time, I can’t use the excuse that I didn’t know that the pictures existed, because I was there when they were taken. I know, I’m just as shocked as you are that my attempts at a baby book failed miserably. Is it alright to blame my family in this case? I mean, they were in town last week, and it did distract me from getting the pictures uploaded to the computer. So I think that’s what I’ll go with. Anyway, commence the cuteness…



I thought this holiday was about chocolate? What’s with all of the eggs? Oh well, food is food…


I’m looking down, I’m looking down…


…and POSE! Now that’s how you take a natural looking picture, people.


Just hanging out, minding my own business…


…Oh look, a pretty flower. I wonder if this will freak Grandma out…


…Well, now. That didn’t take long at all…


…Man, she is quick…



…Think she’d be as quick the second time around?

And now, the rest of the pictures. Without my witty (maybe?) commentary. Notice how she’s refusing to look at the camera in any of these pictures? Easter Sunday was a crabby day for little miss Brigid, and the only reason she’s not crying in these pictures is because I am standing off camera making crazy noises. I swear, we took a zillion pictures, and this is what we came out with. I imagine life before digital cameras was insanely expensive with the film budget.

Also, please note the baby toes. I mean, are you kidding me with all of that cuteness? Honestly, I think that’s my favorite part of this kid. And yes, I realize I have become one of those people, but who am I to stand strong in the face of such cute toes? Sorry.













Happy belated Easter!

Six Months

Um, hi. My baby is six months old today. Six. Months. Old.

That, my friends, seems really old to me. I imagine that when she turns one, I may have a nervous breakdown. There has to be some way to stop time, right? Or at least slow it down? Some way to stop this whole baby-hood thing from going by too fast? No? You’re sure there’s not? I just have to try to enjoy it as much as I can right now while it’s happening? That doesn’t seem like enough to me, but I’ll try my best…

So, Brigid, you’re sitting up now, all by yourself. Granted, you’re still likely to keel over with no regard for your personal safety the moment you get tired of holding yourself upright, but I’m always there to catch you. You’ve started pulling your knees up under you when you’re laying on your stomach, and you can inchworm and roll your way all over the place. If you could just figure out what those arm things are for, you’d officially be on the move, but thankfully (for my sanity), you haven’t gotten that far yet.

You love food. I mean, you really love food. You love sweet potatoes and squash and green beans and apples and pears and OH MY GAH CARROTS!!! GIVE ME MY CARROTS, WOMAN! About the only thing we’ve come across so far that you absolutely refused to eat were peas, but the dogs enjoyed them, so they didn’t go to waste. I imagine you’re about ready to start on something (a very little) more substantial, judging by the laser-like focus you have on anything that anyone around you is trying to eat, but I don’t know that I’m ready to go that far yet. We tried the sippy cup with some water in it, but that went over about as well as the peas. I don’t know if it was disgust at the plain water I was trying to give you, or if the water just came out too fast for you, but we’re going to put that one aside for a couple of weeks.

You are a talker. Oh boy, are you a talker. Most of the time, I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you are bound and determined to get your point across. And sometimes, you actually do succeed. I know what the hungry scream means, so we at least have that. You love to sing along when mommy sings to you. Patty-cake has become one of your favorite games. When the bouncy swing tells you to jump, you jump. Because the bouncy swing is, like, the most awesome thing, like, ever. At least that’s what I translate the giggles and squeals coming out of you when you’re in the swing to mean.

The weather is finally starting to warm up, so you’ve spent a lot of time outside this past week, and you seem to love it. You’re just so much more alert now, and all of the colors and lights and sounds of the outside world fascinate you. One of the few times someone can actually sit down while holding you is when you’re sitting outside. Otherwise, if you’re being held, you need to be walking around because you have places to go and people to see and things to do. None of this lolly-gagging for you! We’ve started taking you into public more, and you’ve been a pretty well-behaved kid so far. You’ve been to the mall, and Kohl’s, and out to eat a couple of times, and for the most part, there haven’t been any public meltdowns. Of course, I have to knock on wood as I acknowledge this, because I’m sure the next time we go out will result in a full-on baby fit, but there you have it. You are a happy baby most of the time, as long as I stick to your schedule.

Oh, the schedule. We’ve finally got this nap thing sort of figured out, and I think you’re a less grumpy baby for it. And you’re so, so happy when you wake up. It’s by far my favorite part of the day when I’m at home with you, and getting to experience it in the morning and after both naps is amazing. You smile, and coo, and wiggle all over the place, and I love it.

You get a little excited to see mommy and daddy when we get home in the evenings. And heaven help me if I forget to take my jewelry off before I hold you. You grab and pull and act like I am the meanest mom in the world if I try to hold your hands away from my necklace. If I’m wearing it, it’s free game, and you’re darn well entitled to put it in your mouth! See, also: hair.

This month, you celebrated St. Patrick’s Day and Easter. You colored eggs and you took your first (extremely short) boat ride. You’ve moved on from the pacifier. You learned how to put your own foot in your mouth. You’ve started reaching for people to hold you. It only happens every once in awhile, and it may be by complete accident, but I’m still happy when you hold your arms out to me. You remain toothless, but I feel like we have to be close with all of the gumming and drooling that you do. When you take a bath, you get mesmerized by the water that comes out of sprayer on your bathtub. You stare at it, and grab for it, and just generally look like you can’t figure out what exactly is going on. You love mirrors, and you really love the pretty baby that you see in mirrors.

And you know what? I really love that pretty baby, too.

Happy six month birthday, Bug!

Words With Friends

So. I have a confession to make…

My name is Tara, and I’m addicted to my iPhone.

Yes, it’s a shameful admission, but I don’t think I’m alone in this, and I definitely don’t think it’s going away anytime soon. I have family staying with me this week, and I think my mother is now concerned about the household her grandchild is growing up in because on more than one occasion, she has looked at me, shaken her head, and asked ‘What are you doing on your phone now?’ And I’ve usually answered with a noncommittal (and slightly defensive) 'stuff'.

Because that’s what you do on an iPhone, right? Stuff. I check Twitter and Facebook and my email accounts. I check the blogs that I follow. I feed my pet fish, and I play solitaire and boggle and mahjong. I track my grocery list and my budget and the traffic and the weather. I follow the news, and I shop. And as of last night? I started playing Words With Friends.

Oh boy.

For those of you who haven’t given in to the siren song of Apple (Or maybe it’s also available online and not just through the iPhone app? I don’t know the specifics.), WWF is basically an online version of Scrabble. But it’s better than Scrabble, because you can just make up words, and the game will tell you whether they’re real or not. It’s actually kind of educational. For example, did you know japed is a real word? I do now. And all because I had a ‘J’ tile worth 10pts that I wanted to use on an extra point square. When the game accepted the word, I was intrigued enough to go to the Dictionary.com application (also on my phone) to find out what it meant. Apparently, it is of Japanese origin and can be used as a verb or a noun:

Japed: To jest, joke, gibe. To mock or make fun of. A jest, trick, or practical joke.

And there is your fun fact of the day. Courtesy of me and my iPhone.

Anyway, I think my mother is now even more worried about my state of mind because last night, while watching American Idol with the fam, Steve and I were playing WWF against each other. That’s right. Instead of actually talking to my husband, he was firmly trouncing me in an online vocabulary game from the other couch. Him and his stupid 75pt word. And every once in awhile, one of us would just randomly start laughing. I think I would be concerned about us, too, if I didn’t know what was going on. Heck, I do know what’s going on, and I’m still concerned.

But not enough to stop playing, of course.


**I currently have games going with Steve, his brother, and his sister, because they are all awesome people and also because those are the only people I know who are playing. If you’re playing, too, let me know! My screen name is Tara100, and I’m actually pretty easy to beat. Just ask Steve, who just dropped a 61pt word on me to basically double my score. Bastard.

Baby's first boat ride...

...was basically a disaster.

Turns out, six month old babies don't like spending time like this:



Go figure.

We were on the boat for all of 2 1/2 minutes before I had my father-in-law turn around so he could drop Brigid and I off back at the dock.

So, strike one against operation water baby, I guess. Maybe we won't quite have her doing backflips on the wakeboard by the time she's two. That's ok.

I can wait until she's three.

Blue skies

This?





This sucked. A lot.

This, though?












This is change I can get behind!

I'm so happy it's finally spring.

Oh, and there's this, of course...







Happy Easter weekend to all!