Reason #1 I am proud I don't drink coffee

Every time this commercial comes on, I cringe in embarrassment for all those involved.


Remember, it's a long way from West Africa.

I can't wait till Friday, when Claire opens her Christmas gifts (so carefully chosen and thoughtfully planned) and gets more satisfaction out of the paper than said gifts.

Only a few more days till we sail away!

I realized yesterday how much easier my life will be if I can get Claire weaned off bottles by the time we go on our cruise. That gives me a little less than two weeks. She has been taking sippy cups well for a while, though she prefers a straw, but not a FULL serving of milk like she will a bottle. We are now down to a bottle with breakfast at 7:30, with lunch at 11:30, after nap at about 4:00 and with dinner at about 6. Since she is finally predictable, I am starting to feel like I can REALLY do this. Does anyone have any tips? She likes the sippy, but I can tell her annoys her when it hits her nose, and I don't blame her. She also tends to suck out more than she can swallow, and nothing annoys me more than seeing the precious milk I have rationed in the freezer go pouring down her chin! Any advice is greatly appreciated!

The Pie

This photo was taken in December 11, 2006. Chris and I had been dating a couple months.

The following was taken last week. I'm pretty happy with where the last three years have taken me.

So about a day before I found out I was pregnant with Claire, I decided I was ready to cut all my hair off again. However, this was also a couple of days before Katie's wedding, and she cried and got my parents involved because she did not want to have a "lesbian" haircut in her wedding. Bless her heart, when the pregnancy test came back positive I did not cut my hair because I did not want to look like a bowling ball when my face swelled during pregnancy and I gave up makeup for six months postpartum.

But both issues are now out of the way, and I finally took the plunge. It is pretty much love it or hate it, but I love it! I jokingly said all three of us have the same haircut now, but it's not too far from the truth!

not quite complete, but almost there.

I love Christmas.

Indecision

I already posted this on FB, but it pretty much sums up Claire's personality right now. She is hilarious, a little bit naughty, and of course, incredibly endearing.

Call me Mommy McMean.

Claire is learning how to take a scheduled nap. And it is not going over well.

How is everybody doing today?

This:

Arrived in my inbox this morning. Oh Petunia, why must you torture me with such gorgeous bags that I simply cannot afford? Alas, I will be forced to wait until the outlet sale, where any "Certified Seconds" will sell out in... well, seconds. And I will lust after this "Red Velvet Cake," but I will employ every ounce of self-control I have, and I will not add it to my cart.

These past few months I have witnessed more tragedy than the rest of my life combined. If this is what growing up means, I don't want to be a grown up.

When I heard the news last night, all I could think about is how I have no doubt he "made it." In fact, I bet the angels heard he was there and grabbed him and said, "Oh you don't have to wait in that line! Come on in!"

The day has finally come...

If you choose to be around me in the next few days, I will not be held responsible if one of my shirt buttons pops off and takes out one or both your eyes.

oh shabby apple...

So for my birthday my Mother did an excellent job getting things I really wanted! She had a little help though, in the form of my Amazon wish list. Now I don't really have this list so people will just decide to buy me presents off it. It has a cool function where you can add anything from all over the internet with a link, so I use it to keep track of things I like FOR MYSELF. I sent a link to it ONLY to my mom, just in case. :)

Well she ordered this Shabby Apple dress that I had on there, and I got it on my birthday. I tried it on and not only did it look horrible on me, but it felt cheap and looked cheap. (They make them look so chic on their site.) So I googled the brand on the tag... which brought me to this:

www.chicstar.com
It's trashy, it's sketchy, it's nowhere most Mormon girls would go looking for a modest fashionable dress. And apparently it's where Shabby Apple acquires some of their ridiculously pricey dresses.

Case #1: My dress
Chic Star
Shabby Apple

Mine was red, which Chic Star appears to be out of right now.

Price difference: $36

Case #2:
Chic Star Dress
Shabby Apple Dress

Price difference: $24

That's all I found for now and I don't want to spend the time looking for more.

Now, I understand mark-up. I understand that is how you make money. And I appreciate that Shabby Apple has found modest, fashionable dresses and made them available to the Mormon masses. But the dress I got was not at all what I was expecting it to be. It felt like something I would buy at Forever 21. Which is fine, but it isn't the way Shabby Apple markets their product. They market their product as top quality, and their impressive website helps with the illusion. Which again, is fine. It is business... But I want you, my friends, to know.

Now I have to pay return shipping and because they will send out ONE exchange for free, I am actually exchanging my dress for another item that claims to be "Made for Shabby Apple." Here's to hoping it looks and feels a little better and that I don't end up having to pay return shipping again.
Apparently not.

Edit: In defense of Shabby Apple, they list this manufacturer on a couple of their dresses...

Shabby Apple
Stop Staring

Shabby Apple
Stop Staring

Apparently there wholesale price is much better on this line, as their prices are significantly lower than Stop Staring. (Which I assume is why they actually list this as the manufacturer; it makes them look reasonable.) The lesson here is that there are gems to be found on websites most of us would never look twice at.

My favorite part of my entire day is when I have to change Claire's diaper first thing in the morning. Well, I guess it is about five seconds before I have to change her diaper. It is when I unsnap her jammies and pull her sticky little feet out and she is so soft and warm and still just a little asleep and those feet are just irresistible. I love those feet.

Today was hard. Some days are just hard. And I miss my mom and dad and Willie smells and I am just not sure I have the time or patience to give him a bath while Claire finds the next disaster to get into. Because no matter how many times I make sure there is not a disaster to get into, Claire finds a disaster to get into.

So I put her down for a nap, and she starts crying, because five days of constant attention has spoiled her, and HOW DARE I WALK AWAY, and where the heck is Daddy?

I know crying it out has it proponents and others think you deserve to be reported to CPS. I'm somewhere in the middle. Actually, I just think you have to do whatever works for you. But for us, crying it out has never really worked, because by the time Claire gets tired enough to fall asleep, it just means she will wake up twenty minutes later even more upset. Or, better yet, I walk in to check on my screaming, crying, hysterical baby, and the stench of a poopy diaper washes over me, and I think, what kind of mother am I that I let her cry for this long!!?


So I will tell you that I was at my wits end by the time I decided to let her cry it out this afternoon. She was naughty on the flight home last night (a first) and I was exhausted from the travel and stress of getting back home. So she cried, and then I went in and changed her poopy diaper, and then she cried some more. And then I cried, and I sat downstairs and listened as she cried and banged her sweet squishy little hands on her crib, and I cried some more.

And finally she fell asleep. An hour later, she cried again. I went and got her, that sweet squishy little girl, but I could tell she was still tired. So we went downstairs to the glider and I held my anti-cuddler (not a word, by the way) close, and just like that, one rock... two rocks... she fell back asleep. And for two hours that sweet little girl slept on my chest, something she has not done in months, something I have longed for, cried for, prayed for, over and over again.

And I know it is silly, but I feel like she knew. I feel like she knew I needed that today. Today I needed her to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. And I love her. I love her sticky feet and her chubby little hands that pound on the edge of her crib, and I even love those warm, salty tears that run down her face when she cries too long. Yes, they break my heart, and I hate to see them, but I love to kiss them away.

Back from a fantastic whirlwind trip to Seattle and enjoying a moment of downtime. Just me, milk, and my macaroons.

and off to find something else to sell on ebay

Sometimes, late at night, I want to write particularly negative blogs about nothing in particular. But I try to stop myself.

The end.

I have a hoarding problem and I'm afraid I always have. When I was little it was stacks of extra worksheets. I would ask all my teachers for leftover papers, and I stuff them into the many drawers full of "playing school" supplies I had. While other girls had Barbie collections, I had piles of busy work. Between that and my overly bossy personality while "playing school," it goes without saying that I was not the most popular girl on the block.

I also collected stickers as a child, and would rarely ever allow them to be used. Everytime Costco came out with those super boxes of sticker rolls (they were always ten dollars) I would BEG my dad to let me buy them. And sweet man, he would. It was usually accompained by a promise to do something, something I am quite sure I rarely followed through with. Here is the thing though, I know those stickers are somewhere in my closet at my parents house, waiting on their reusable vinyl pages that I so meticulously transferred them to, for me to find them and admire them again. Just typing that, I get butterflies in my stomach, full of concern that I might NOT actually find them. And I'm pretty sure the only person I would share those stickers with is Claire. They are still just "too special."

Then there was high school. The dreaded days of high school. Where every single dollar that made its way into my pocket was spent on compact discs. And oh how I loved them. How I pored over the liners and made sure to never bend a corner, to never break a case, to never scratch a CD. And my dad told me, Taylor, someday you will regret all the money you spend on those CD's. And I promised I would not.

He was right. He always is. They sit somewhat neglected in the garage collecting dust. I loved them, and one might even say got "my money's worth" over the years. But I have long since lost most of the liners, probably some of the CD's. When the musically inclined check out my music collection, the can't help but state that it looks like my good taste dropped off in 2005. Why yes, you are right. Because no Bright Eyes cd will surpass I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning, and I am just fine having my last memories of my very favorite band in the whole world be Futures.

So the obsessions come and go.

Currently, it's Gymboree and magazine subscriptions. In fact, I got so many magazines on Amazon for about five dollars, that they come faster than I can read them. Yet, I still get a little rush every time I open the mail box and there is a shiny new magazine just waiting for me to jump in. And Gymboree... does it ever get old getting a great deal on beautiful baby clothes?

There has been one item I can remember hoarding forever, and that is candy. I have one memory that came to me out of no where this evening. I was thinking of my fast approaching birthday, and how it is the little indulgences that are so exciting to get, the things you would never dream of getting yourself, the impractical, ever so exciting, over the top gifts that just MAKE your day, and I remembered one gift in particular. I don't know how old I was, only that I was in the "old house" as we still call it, the one just down the street from "home," where I grew up. And I can actually recall standing by the coffee table, anxiously opening my Christmas gift from my dad (he has always given us the greatest Christmas gifts) and in this giftbag (which was odd because we usually box-wrap) was a huge bag of candy from Sweet F Factory. And by huge it was probably two pounds. But in that moment, the crazy little 4 or 5 or 6 year old hoarder in me thought I had the greatest dad in the whole world, because in my hands I held more candy than any other kid in the whole world, and it would probably take my whole life to eat all that candy, but even so I would savor every bite and ration every piece.

You were starting to think I was actually going to go a whole post without talking about Claire? Of course not!! But I'll keep it short-- I hope that just once or twice, she will feel the way I felt when my dad bought me those stickers or gave me the biggest bag of candy in the world. Yeah, I'll try not to spoil her, but every once in a while I hope she thinks I'm just about the greatest person in the world.


Note to Dad, this does not mean you can pick me up a bag of candy at Costco and call it a birthday. But if its a pack of stickers AND a bag of candy... that might work.

Claire's first kiss.

This is the actual order in which these pictures were taken. I think it tells a pretty funny story.



That's my girl, you just smack those boys away!

I peeked in Claire's bedroom and what did I see?
This little bobble head staring back at me!
Claire has brought me such a nice surprise,

Sitting up alone right before my eyes.

I could help her sit up the last two weeks,
A little help, that was all she'd need.
But then came today, and I got to see,
My little Claire up on her own two cheeks.

Still making my day, every day.


photo by Chaddie

For our wedding, I registered and received all the expensive Williams-Sonoma "Goldtouch" Nonstick bakeware, also known as the "Burns-everything-it-touches" bakeware.I have replaced most of it with much cheaper aluminum bakeware that results in perfect cakes and cookies, and since I line everything in parchment, nothing ever sticks anyway. Well, in a moment of boredom earlier this week, I wandered into Williams-Sonoma and the shamelessly asked if I could return my useless pans... and SHE SAID YES. And so today Chris and I returned exactly 241.01 dollars worth of pans. Trashy? Yes. Amazing? Of course.

Then I realized I don't really want anything at Williams-Sonoma with my 241 dollars of store credit. I have spent the evening perusing their website, trying to get myself excited about using this credit. I have decided I don't need anything from there. I could buy a juicer, but it seems like something that costs 300 dollars should do more than just make juice... and that is how I discovered that I don't need a unitasker like juicer.


No, I need is a Vitamix. And I need one now. Like you, I have seen the Costco demonstration many a time, and always wondered who would spend so much on a blender. But this isn't just any blender. This sucker makes ice cream out of fruit and ice cubes. Soup of raw veggies. SCRAMBLED EGGS IN A BLENDER. It is a miracle machine, and someday, we will own it.

If you want to convince yourself you need a Vitamix, watch any of these 52 videos.

I'm going to start searching through the couch cushions for loose change.

my mom is cooler than your mom.

Barbie is the best. She brought 9 tubs of Blue Bell back from her trip to Phoenix. Chris and I are in heaven. Thank goodness we bought our deep-freeze!!

the fart heard round the world

Blogs are the ultimate form of narcissism aren't they? Every time I go to write something I think of how self-absorbed it sounds, and then I realize that nearly every blog is self-absorbed (or spouse-absorbed or offspring-absorbed.) But such is the world of blogging, and no one is making you read (of course, no one is probably reading either.) :)

Claire turned six months on Wednesday, a small milestone that made me reflect on the first few days of her life. I had a scheduled c-section, a result of a rather stubborn little baby and my complete and total aversion to them trying to turn her inside my womb. Seriously, does anything sound worse? "We will give you muscles relaxers, then try to push the baby head down from the outside. It WILL hurt, and it's not always successful, and even when it is, they often go right back." No Thank YOU. So I knew what day Claire was coming, and exactly what time. I thought this would make it easier to prepare, to enjoy the last few days of freedom with a few trips to the movie theater and dates with Chris. No matter what anyone tells you, nothing can prepare you for the imminent arrival of a human being that you will be 100% responsible for FOREVER.

After some awkward prep with the most awkward nurse ever, the time finally came to go to the operating room. It's frigid. Like a walk-in freezer frigid. Or like the produce section at Costco where I stand and debate every time if I really want to go in and look through strawberries for fifteen minutes to find the best one. I get on the operating table, and they prepare me for the spinal. Chris gasps at the needle. Honestly, I wasn't that worried about this. Needles have never really scared me. So I lean over with my arms draped around Awkward Nurse, and the anesthesiologist puts the fifteen-foot needle in my back. He prefaces by saying that the second he is done I need to flip my legs up on the table before they go numb. Needle in. Pain. Burning pain. It's okay, it will go away. As told, I flip my legs, they are already fading fast.
A moment passes.
Another.

WAS THAT ME? Did I seriously just let out the loudest fart of my entire life in front of all these people?? Oh my gosh, Chris, please, please tell me that is all that happened. Please, please, please. (Thankfully, it was.)

And the assaulter says, "Don't worry, it happens all the time." And I'm like, Oh really, is there a support group for it, because I'm pretty sure I'm going to have PTSD from the pure humiliation.

And in come the doctors. Into a freezing cold, fart-filled room, where I'm giggling like a ten year old boy because I JUST FARTED, and the anesthesia has made me just a little bit loopy and then I'm like, seriously? Who decided I was mature enough to be a mother?

And then in the coming days I realized that this small loss of dignity was only one of the first in a series known as motherhood. Like when the nurse comes and tries to make you walk only a few hours later, and you look at them in complete disbelief because don't they know you were literally cut in half that day!? Or worse, when she tried to take out my catheter and I said, ABSOLUTELY NOT. I will pee in this bed and you can change it because I am not, absolutely NOT, walking to that toilet five feet away to go to the bathroom. (I actually ended up holding it till I was in tears and another nurse had to say, "Honey, having a full bladder on a fresh c-section incision is what is pushing you over the edge. You have to get up.")

Or when your child poops in church or at a restaurant, and starts that unmistakable grunt and her nose turns red and pretty soon you are rushing off the changing room and returning with a naked baby because you just happened to forget a change of clothes that day.

Or when you spend 3 hours a day hooked up to a machine that mechanically milks your breasts because the little fart is a spoiled brat now and sticks her tongue out at formula.

Or when you are THAT person in airport security lines, or on the plane, or in a restaurant, or in church. The person you know no one wants to sit by. The person you know people are probably thinking is just another teenage mother.

People will tell you that it will be so hard, but you will never remember life before you had your baby. That's a lie. You will remember the dates, the freedom to jump in the car and go shopping, the lack of a pouch, taking a shower, sleeping without worry, having a semblance of dignity left. You will remember it, but you won't long for it. Nope, the spit up, stinky diapers, makeup-less days, they are all worth it when you tiptoe into her room and she looks up at you with her big blue eyes and kicks her little feet and squeals in excitement. Psshh, you can have my dignity, Claire thinks I'm pretty cool.

If you don't think our daughter is amazing...

Then watch one minute... any more is more of the same. But maybe you'll find her just as irresistible as we do!

Whitney tagged me to do this, and since I suppose I should post at least once about something other than Claire, I'll be happy to do it.

1. What is his name? Christopher Clay
2. Who eats more? Chris probably would never eat if he didn't live with me.
3. Who's the social butterfly? It has changed at various points in our relationship. Right now it is Chris.
4. Who is taller? Me!
5. Who is smarter? Liberal arts= me. Things that actually matter= Chris.
6. Who is more sensitive? It depends if I'm having a bad day.
7. Who does the laundry? We wait until one of us runs out of underwear and then we do it. So whoever runs out first. Usually Chris does it. Yes, I need to get my act together.
8. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? I do, it is closer to the bathroom and further from the scary balcony door.
9. Who pays the bills? The internet, but Chris sets it all up.
10. Who cooks more? Me.
11. Who is more stubborn? Me, of course.
12. Who is the first to admit they are wrong? Chris always apologizes even though it is never his fault. I am trying to work on this.
13. Who has more siblings? Me.
14. Who wears the pants in the relationship? It's more equal than everyone thinks.
15. What do you like to do together? Eat. Watch netflix (mostly Bones). Go to Costco. Travel.
16. Who eats more sweets? One of my favorite things about Chris is his sweet tooth, but we are pretty equal on this as well.
17. Guilty Pleasures? A trashy television show so embarassing I can't even tell you.
18. How did you meet? At a party at the Park City house. He came with a friend of Katie's.
19. Who asked whom out first? Chris, but not really. He called me and said, "I don't have any food in my house so like, um, do you want to go to dinner?"
20. Who drives? One of us drives and the other sits in the back with Claire. Usually I let Chris sit in the back when she is fussy, but only cause he doesn't get to see her all day. :) All the other times, he drives.
21. Who proposed? Christopher.
22. His best features and qualities? His hair, definitely his hair. And pretty much everything else about him.

she's got that crazy look in her eyes!

Another day passes that I am obsessed with every feature of my beautiful daughter. How her little wrists are so chubby that it looks like she has on a rubber band. How her eyelashes are longer than most adult women. How sweet her little belly button is and how amazing it is that she used to be connected to me--- to such an imperfect person with big feet and a gangly fingers.

I have such big dreams for her -- all 14 pounds 5 ounces of her. I hope she grows up to know how beautiful she is, how each and every inch of her body is a perfect gift from her Heavenly Father. I hope she never notices her crooked toes (that one of these toes is not like the other ones..), or how one ear sticks out and the other doesn't. Better yet, I hope she does notice them and loves them just like we do. These sweet little "imperfections" that prove what a miracle is manifest by her little body. I hope she never looks at a cookie and thinks, "That will go straight to my hips." Rather, I hope she dives into all the delicacies of life headfirst. (She's got a good start--- she hasn't meet a baby food she doesn't like yet.)

I hope she relishes education and learns early what she loves, what makes her happy, and how she can get the most joy out of life. But mostly, I pray, more than anything, that she will love herself. I've struggled with confidence issues my entire life, but since I have had Claire my whole outlook has changed. How much time have I wasted feeling uncomfortable? How many pictures have I missed out because I didn't like how I looked? How silly! I never want such a thought to cross her mind.

But I also hope she finds someone amazing to love her as well. I hope it is a far ways off... And this is where the post turns into a love letter to my husband. I look at Chris and realize how incredibly grateful I am for him. He is so good to me, so loving, so unbelievable. He bears his burden, and most of mine, with a smile. I never have to question his love for me. Every day, I feel adored. I think that makes me pretty lucky. And that is all I can ask for Claire--- that she will always know she is adored.

Click here for a free Baja Fresh burrito-- TODAY ONLY.

Click on Wall Photos.
You may want to call your local Baja and make sure they are accepting it, Baja Fresh seems to be doing a good job of making sure all franchises are taking it (minus the few listed on the coupon.)

Also, take in the whole page-- so it shows you got it off facebook.

Thanks to my husband, who peruses the internet for deals!

'Sup guys!?

Confession:

I like Katy Perry's "Waking Up in Vegas."

I turn my back for ONE second

and catch my baby REDCAKE-HANDED!

(She's a girl after her mother's heart.)

Thanks to some sweet potatos, Claire slept through the night for the first time last night-- with only two trips to give her back her paci. It was kind of sad, a sign that she was growing up and maybe didn't need us so much. I must admit, Chris has been the one to wake up with her in the middle of the night since pretty much week three, when I threw in the bfing towel and switched to pumping. He is amazing.

I am usually not one to post such personal business on my blog, but I keep feeling the "prompting" for lack of a better word, to write about this. Perhaps there is someone (out of the five of you who read this) that need to hear what I have to say, instead of the thousand of blogs that say, "I just love being a mom, I know it's my divine calling, it's so natural, I can't imagine life before baby," etc. If not, then I will just make the vast majority of you extremely uncomfortable, which is just fine too. :)

Like most women, I thought the first few weeks after giving birth were destined to be overwhelming and maybe even a little bit saddening. In one moment of over the top ridiculousness, I cried when I saw Kathryn pregnant (i think Claire was a week old) because I "missed having her all to myself." But things didn't get better like I thought they would. Before long I was a crazy, crying, disaster, terrified of this ten pound creature. I loved Claire-- but the smallest peep would send me into a frantic panic. Knowing that this was something I would be prone to, I had promised myself during my pregnancy that at the first sign of any depression, I would do something about it. Of course I didn't. I thought alot of it was just disappointment over failing to breastfed and normal maternal anxieties. I really started to believe that one child was just fine for me-- I didn't see how I could go through it all again. Finally, for the sake of my husband, my baby, and myself... I got on medication. And let me tell you...

Before, I dreaded when Claire would awake because I didn't know what to do with her. I was so uncomfortable in my position as her mother. Now, I can't wait till I hear her squeak! I run in to her room, she smiles and kicks her feet, then we cuddle in bed and sleep for another hour.. or two... or three... I spend all my days on the floor, making her smile, giggle and laugh. I'm still not very productive, but I'm a lot more so.

Of course I think a lot of this just comes with time. Claire is more responsive now, which is more gratifying. I've kind of "figured" her out, and she rarely cries. I know I still have a long way to go. Any mother will have her bad days and her good. But I beg you, if you are feeling the same, do something about it. Instead of telling Chris I don't think I can have any more kids (which was breaking his heart) I can't wait till Claire is old enough for us to have more. He just laughs at me, a mixture of "you're crazy" and relief. It's hard, but it is so much fun. There really is nothing better.

surprise!!

We're in Texas!

Hello, my name is Taylor and I'm a dairy cow.

Last night I made cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, but they were like sand in my mouth. So all day I've been looking for a conduit for the rest of the frosting. Then I remembered I bought bananas yesterday. Problem solved.

Maybe it's time to start trying to lose baby weight.

A week in Florida.

Claire is quite the world traveler: Phoenix, Salt Lake, and Florida all within a month. The flight to Florida went remarkably smooth, and Claire was loved by all. She spent a lot of time with my dad. We went to the beach one morning and came back to this:

Too cute for words.


Yesterday it rained buckets on Florida, which put a definite damper on all three of our hypothetical plans: Busch Gardens, alligator park, and the beach. So instead we ended up at the Mote aquarium. I love the manatees.

We surprised Krissy and drove to Phoenix last weekend. We tried to get Claire to wear her adorable strawberry hat that Grandma Stewart bought her. She was a little apprehensive about it.


Claire isn't the biggest fan of tummy time... but she does love the TV! I freaked out when I realized she was always craning her neck to watch the television, so now I try to keep it turned off or at least turn her away. I'm not ready for a couch potato quite yet. But I love this picture, because it just so happened that the channel changer was right there.



I love this girl. It's like she knows how to make me laugh.

and now back to our regulary scheduled programming

I worry about what the world is coming to when I get a washingtonpost.com news alert about the Obama's dog. Really? Really, does that warrant "breaking news?" Am I the only one that finds this frightening? Or how about when my president, in a display of his immaturity and unceasing desire to appear "cool" gives the Queen of England an ipod, and all the media outlets report it in praise of his "hipness." Or how he preceeds to make a mockery of the United States throughout his entire European tour, and thinks we are stupid enough to believe that WASN'T a bow (and quite frankly, I don't care, but don't lie about it.) How about when he equates his bowling skills to the Special Olympics (on Leno, no less), and every media outlet defends him? Why is he on Leno in the first place? I don't need my President to be a "celebrity." How about when the first lady, apparently very proud of her upper body, wears impractical sleeveless dresses all winter and is hailed as a fashion icon? Really, or is she just in cahoots with J-Crew to make bland clothing a national phenonema? How about when Biden's daughter is caught on tape snorting cocaine, and the story dies in a day? Remember when the Bush twins got caught with a fake ID?

Here's the interesting bit: I didn't get a washingtonpost.com email about the Navy SEALS saving Captain Richard Phillips from Somali pirates yesterday, which I think actually warranted breaking news. The media has become obssessed with this superhero of a president they created during the election, and that is what is actually frightening. The fact that people really do care about the dog, about her dress, about their love life--- that is frightening. Take off the rose-colored glasses and take a step back. If any of the gaffes the President has made thus far happened to anyone else, they would be discussed for weeks. Instead, I'd be surprised to see them show up on the obnoxious scrolling ticker.

On Monday, Chris kept telling me he wanted to take pictures of Claire surrounded by Easter eggs. I didn't say anything at the time, but I was a little worried--- thinking he was channeling the Office moment when Angela photographs Astrid in a cornucopia . It was a good thing I didn't try to stop him though, because the eggs were actually for a "hunt" for clues to a romantic weekend. Yesterday morning, I woke up to the first, which instructed me to find the other three hidden around the house, which contained the details to the getaway. It was probably one of the sweetest things Chris has ever done for me, and definitely the pick-me-up I needed after the last few exhausting weeks. Anyway, he made dinner reservations, massage reservations, and a night at the Trump Tower for the 16th. It will be the first night we leave Claire with my parents, which will be a little hard, but I can't wait to have some time without worrying about spit-up and poopy diapers.

Moral of the story: Chris is really special and I love him alot.

Chris blessed Claire yesterday in my parents ward. She was absolutely perfect, which was such a blessing cause she has been a lil bit fussy lately. She looked beautiful and Chris did a wonderful job. She just loves hearing his voice, so that might have helped keep her calm!


She has also started giving us real smiles. I always wondered how you would know when they weren't just "gas" and I remember reading somewhere "when you see it, you'll know." How true that is! She smiles most the most for my dad; it seems like she really likes him. The feeling is mutual.

Chris is working from 8pm-6am last night and tonight. I can't believe Claire and I made it through a night without him (and she still got fed!!) Actually, I swear she was her best ever last night or I wouldn't have made it. I don't know how tonight will go... she is already asleep which isn't a good sign since I'm not!

I would post about something other than the baby but there really isn't anything else going on.

Claire is turning into a little tub-a-lub. Her cheeks are finally chubby and shes getting those adorable fat rolls in her thighs. I am so in love with this little girl.


Chris and I think she is a pretty big deal-- for all you parents out there our excitement at this head lifting is a little ridiculous, but she's just so dang cute! She gets so frustrated trying to lift her head up and when she does she is so proud... but she still hasn't quite gotten the balance thing down!

some assorted pics

With the help of ridiculous combination of nursing, pumping, and bottled breastmilk, Claire has gained over a pound! She is finally fitting into her 0-3 outfits, and yesterday we got to dress her for our first Sunday in the new ward. She was adorable and well behaved, except when she burped like a man and the whole aisle turned to see where it came from. We are so proud.

She loves falling asleep on our bed while Chris and I are playing with her. Pretty much a surefire way to get her to sleep... apparently she is already discriminating about her mattress. She is not happy when we put her on that hard, flimsy, pack-n-play mattress at night.

Baby feet are cute. Except when baby sticks them in her dirty diaper every time I change it. Makes you think twice about kissing her adorable little toes...

Every night at about eleven pm, Claire's eyes snap open. It's like she knows. So, in the interest of loving and hands-off parenting, Chris and I squeeze the seahorse, which plays music for about ten minutes and keeps her entertained. The second the music ends, she starts crying. And thus, our nights consist of running back and forth approx. every ten minutes to squeeze the seahorse.
The other surefire way to get Claire to sleep is her carseat. She loves going for a ride and pretty much passes out as soon as she gets snapped in.

Being a mom is both harder and easier than I expected. It is the little things that prove the most difficult, like when I do manage to take a shower, I almost never manage to get my hair blowdried. On Friday I had to take her to the doctor down by Sunrise hospital (for those of you that don't know, this requires venturing across town, driving across the Strip, and navigating Maryland Parkway, one of the busiest streets in Las Vegas). By the end of the day, I seriously felt like I deserved Mother of the Year award because I managed all of the following:
getting her fed, pumping, getting her bathed and dressed, getting myself bathed and dressed, going to Moutainview to get her records, making it to her appt. (only ten minutes late), and getting home in one piece. I was honestly beaming I was so proud.

very boring post for today.

Well, three weeks have passed and the good news is all three of us are still alive. Claire is still amazing and still very, very teeny. I have been breastfeeding for the past three weeks... definitely the most difficult thing I have ever done in my life, but I was very set on trying and firmly believed I would be able to get over the hump and make it work. Unfortunately, Claire hasn't gained weight like she should. She is still under her birth weight and only gained one ounce all last week. It is so frustrating, because we have been trying so hard to make this work and I wanted to be able to feed her so badly. It's particulary frustrating because she seems hydrated (giving us enough wet and dirty diapers everyday, nursing for a good amount of time, acting full) but she clearly isn't getting enough. It's not that I think she is going to die or be less intelligent if she isn't breastfed... but formula stinks and costs and I really enjoyed having her all to myself for feeding times. However, her gaining weight and being healthy is far more important than some stinky spit up stains or my selfish desires to feed her, so for the past 24 hours she has been on formula. We have another doctors appointment next week with a specialist, and I am trying to keep my supply up by pumping until then and see what he says. Even if I have to pump and bottle feed, I would rather do that than stinky old formula.

We finally moved into our house this week. It is so fun to wake up and feel like you are at your own home, not some apartment we'll be leaving next semester. Chris and I upgraded to a king bed, which is a dream, and Claire just sleeps in a Pack-n-play in our room. She is about as good as can be expected during the night. Because she needs to gain weight we have to wake her up every three hours, but that is about her schedule anyway. Chris is so helpful, in fact, last night (since it was her first night on formula) he grabbed the middle of the night shift, and I don't even remember waking up. I guess that is the advantage of bottle feeding. His parents get into town tonight, which will be so nice. I can't wait for them to meet Claire. I wish I had the house looking better but I have sort of had my hands full.

Right now she's all curled up on my chest--- could this be the best thing in the world? She is hardly ever set down, but I don't care... she is only this little once and I am going to soak it all in, even if it seems I'm "spoiling" her. This picture is from last night when she met her Uncle Hank.