Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Monday, October 29, 2007
He typically eats in the afternoon after I've had lunch, so Sean only gets to see him eat on the weekends. He was amazed at how good he's eating now and took this video on Saturday:
I can't wait until he hits 6 months and we can start giving him other baby foods. I'm going to attempt to take a picture of his first bite of each of the different foods we give him and post them on here. That won't be until around Thanksgiving though, which actually isn't too far away. Crazy...
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Here's the entrance - it just screams autumn, doesn't it?
Here are some of the animals we saw. I loved the baby pigs - they were so cute and SO noisy. One of them was digging a hole under the fence and almost got out!
Our little piggy (he refused to look up at me):
Tay and Daddy picking out a pumpkin:
Our little happy family:
I hope everyone is enjoying this fall season as much as we are!
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
So here you have it - cuteness overload:
Sunday, October 21, 2007
I'm just so thankful for my husband and my son. They are the absolute loves of my life and I'm so grateful I have them.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
There were lots of families there and everyone loved Tay's costume. We had Pier 49 pizza for dinner (dyed green of course) and for dessert I had a yummy mini key lime pie. After a while Taylor got tired and cranky, but we were able to hang out there for quite a while. It was also fun having Uncle Buba, Aunt Holly, and the girls there.
Again, sorry no pictures. I forgot the camera again. But I'll definitely post some pictures of the baby in his dinosaur costume for Halloween.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Laura was a hoot. She would run up to us and say, "Wanna watch me go down the swide?" and then she'd run off and go down the slide. She also thought it was really funny when other kids would go down the slide. I pushed her on the swings while Aunt Holly held Taylor and we pretended she was in a rocket ship. She said she was floating in outer space with her space helmet and boots. Then when she got out of the swing Aunt Holly asked her about going on the rocket ship and she said, "No mommy, it's not a rocket ship. It's just a swing." Aunt Holly and I hung out on the grass while we watched Laura "wun awound" and watched Marie climb trees. That girl is a little monkey!
Toward the end of our day at the park Taylor had a diaper explosion which resulted in me having to not only change his diaper, but all of his clothes too. He thought it was pretty fun to lay on the grass with no clothes on though.
We had a really fun time and I'm so proud of Aunt Holly and I for actually getting together and doing something with the kids.
I wish I had pictures to share, but I very uncharacteristically left the camera at home. Oh well, can't be on the ball all the time.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
So here you have it:
I probably see more of these faces than his little smiles and grins, but he's still cute when he's crying... if you're just looking at pictures and don't have to listen to it.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Friday, October 12, 2007
Here are some pictures of him in it:
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
From Chicken Soup for the Woman's Soul
Time is running out for my friend.
We are sitting at lunch when she casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." What she means is that her biological clock has begun its countdown and she is considering the prospect of motherhood. "We're taking a survey," she says, half jokingly. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say carefully.
"I know," she says. "No more sleeping in on Saturdays, no more spontaneous vacations..."
But that is not what I mean at all.
I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of childbirth heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable.
I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking "What if that had been my child?" That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think about her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her child is all right.
I want my friend to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine. That a five-year-old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in the rest room. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years - not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his.
I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.
My friend's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the ways she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his son or daughter. I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.
I wish my modern friend could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving. I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.
I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to hit a baseball. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts.
My friend's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.
"You'll never regret it," I say finally.
Then I reach across the table, squeeze my friend's hand, and offer a prayer for her and me and all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this holiest of callings.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Here's one of him sucking his thumb:
One of the favorites among my family:
Talking to daddy:
Monday, October 8, 2007
And, of course, I have to add pictures -
Also, here's another video of Tay in his jumper. SOOO cute!
Saturday, October 6, 2007
We were having so much fun making fools of ourselves that we had to get Taylor in on the craziness too! Oh, and that's not a freckle on his face; he scratched himself in the middle of the night a few days ago.
Man we are out of our minds...
I got this in an email from my sweet friend Christine and wanted to share it.. dedicated to all you mommies out there who work so hard for your families!
It started to happen gradually. One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" "Nobody," he shrugged. "Nobody?" The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?"
I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing.
Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been ere for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking.
That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible. It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not! No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She's going, she's going, she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when anice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this."
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Here are some of my favorite pictures of him in it:
Cute little grins:
Apparently one of the sounds it made startled him:
And I love this one.. it looks like a face my brother would make:
Sean and I were so excited last night because he actually started jumping in it. Here's a video. It's not the best footage because he was starting to get cranky, but you get the general idea.
He was getting so into it Sean and I were just laughing hysterically. Babies are hilarious...
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
Here's a little video I shot when we first got to the park. He's so funny!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Here are some pictures -
Mountains going into the canyon:
Gorgeous hillside up by Sundance:
Bridal Veil Falls:
And here we are (please excuse my lack of makeup):
We had so much fun and it was so nice to have some "us" time.