The theme of my life as of late.

Why yes, yes in fact. Like, to all of the above. I was sitting here without any kind of idea of what I was going to write about in this here blog post. And that usually means there'll be a whole lot of unrelated meandering rambling. I just knew I had to write. But then I realized I needed to touch on some things I've never talked about before on my blog. Something you've never heard me or any other mother of small children complain about before. In fact, you might be shocked that I even bring it up, but here it is: Life without sleep. Alright, alright. So I'm a broken record. Good news is, thanks to this text from my friend Kacy I know now that I'll be able to write about something different in around 5 years, so you can look forward to that.

First of all, are your kids sick? My kids have been hit with one bug after another since November. And it's making me mental. I'm not kidding. I'm going batty. Remember last post when I said Isla hadn't been sleeping well for 6 weeks because she was sick? And the worst part was that I suspected she was coming down with something again? Well I took her into the doctor and she had a double ear infection. AGAIN. And now, here we are finally at that point when it's been another few weeks and I think her congestion is finally clearing again and she might let me sleep more than 3 hours at a time. But family dinners and birthday parties call and Lucy goes back to preschool and it seems like if Isla isn't on my lap or glued to my hip, I'm looking over at her just in time to see one of her sisters or cousins coughing in her face or putting their fingers in her mouth. And I nearly spontaneously combust. At this very moment my little Lucia is losing her voice and my Scarlett started up with a serious cough yesterday. We've been through stomach bugs, ear infections, sinus infections with fevers included already this season. I'm at my breaking point. Seriously.

Not only that but Lucy and Scarlett moved into a new room at Christmas time (their main Christmas surprise!) and getting used to sleeping somewhere new is a seriously challenging task for a 2 and a 4 year old. Scarlett plays musical beds all night, following mostly Jason around from bed to bed, because she knows the seat's takin' for a while with me. She comes in and whisper yells at me, Mommy, where Daddy?!? at 1, 2, 3 AM and I of course have no choice but to groggily point my zombie arm in the direction of her dad. Then Lucy comes in during the wee hours of the morning saying she's angry because no one slept with her. Or that she's hungry. Or cold. Or needs to go potty. Or scared. Or had a bad dream. Or set something on fire. Or is running for president.

Here's shot I got of our bed a few mornings ago... like before the sun even rose. And you might think it's a tender shot of family love, but what you don't know is that Jason was in a foul mood if I've ever seen one (because of said stalking during the night) and was yelling out things like, Get off my arm! Don't touch me! and Leave me alone! 

So sleep deprivation and I (and more often as of late my husband as well) have become inseparable good friends. Who am I kidding. We are not good friends. It's more like an arranged marriage. When one partner is abusing the other. Which means I've been a severely crabby mother with the patience of... I can't even think of anything clever to compare it to (my brain is turning to mush). It's not only making me a snappy impatient mother and turning my brain to mush, but it's just making me a mean person in general, to children and adults alike. Sunday we were at a family dinner with all of Jason's siblings and I just couldn't even muster a smile for anyone. And sister Cathy who was in town from Seattle was gleefully freaking out over the Seahawks winning the football game and I told her, nobody cares. I was pretty much glaring around at everyone like a serious ogre. So the constant demand of sick tiny children + no sleep + need of hair cut and pedicure + husband's never-ending list of meetings of every fashion is making me a surly imbecilic curmudgeon all around.  I looked at my reflection on the back side of my spoon last night and asked, Who am I? I'm losing myself. And no one's doing a thing about it. I hit a new level of low last night when I texted my husband and asked if he liked me.

I just want to preface every conversation with everyone I come in contact with by informing them that I don't sleep, so they'll understand why all the profanity and anger and sneaky hate spirals about everything in general.

See? I knew I had to write. Because I'm feeling a little better now. Phew.

Okay but speaking of losing my mind (literal), at the family dinner on Sunday, a little something strange occurred that I feel the need to make mention of. Again. Because I already posted about this on Facebook. And I'm reposting it here. Written Sunday night:

So I make a delicious salad for the big monthly family dinner tonight at Jason's parents house... A salad I learned to make at the infamous cooking class I attend if you must know- mixed baby lettuces, hand-shucked pomegranate (shucked them myself this morning), candied spiced pecans (again- candied them MYSELF this morning), freshly sliced apple, crumbled blue cheese and a delectable apple cider vinaigrette dressing. However, much to my dismay, no one seems to be oohing and ahhing over my salad like I'd anticipated. By the time I finally got around to having some myself, after basically everyone else, I have one bite and nearly spit it out. I say, "Something is really off," to my mother-in-law despite her efforts to convince me, "I think it's good!" Save it, Linda! So I hurry over to the dressing, down a spoonful, and nearly gag. I can't dump the rest down the sink fast enough, telling my MIL, "I don't know where I went wrong with that dressing but it's seriously off!" and feeling panic because this is what I had served the entire family. I'll have to go back over the recipe when I get home, I think to myself. Except when I get home and open the fridge to get my girls some milk, what should I see before my very eyes but the tupperware of apple cider vinaigrette sitting before me. Another surge of panic. What WAS that?!? What on earth did I dump all over that salad?! Like 10 heaping huge spoonfuls?! Then I realize all at once like a flash of revelation... I had put beef broth in a similar tupperware earlier this week. Beef broth salad for everyone all around. I'll send you the recipe for the dressing if you'd like- it's a can of Swanson's beef broth.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Losing. My. Mind.

Maybe you're tempted to tell me, that could happen to anyone. But I seriously doubt it. No. I think it's just me. I really do. Still trying to figure that out.

Another result of sleeplessness for me is emotional eating. Let me tell you a shameful occurrence in our home a couple weeks back. Jason came home from work smack dab in the middle of the day. Which he knows is a no-no. It scares me. Plus I don't like to feel like he's peeping in on me. Because ya know what happened when he popped in home from work when he had to pick something up and head straight back to the office? Wanna know what he happened upon? Me. Standing in my bathrobe, in our bathroom. Hiding from the kids. Inhaling one of these babies. Both hands involved, like a hamster shoving a ginormous sunflower seed into it's mouth.

He rounded the corner, stopped dead in this tracks, and said, "Whoa. What are you doing?" in shock and disbelief.

None of it's pretty, folks. None of it. 

In conclusion, I do want to end on a high note and tell you that our Christmas was sublime and add a few pics from it. We spent the day up at Jason's parents house of Christmas eve and headed home to our place around 5 to meet Nessa and Sam and their babies.

Here are my Christmas angels with their cousins acting out the nativity at Grandma and Grampa's. I will say that the real high light was when Scarlett snuck a roll out from under her white robe and started hoovering it during Silent Night.

 And Christmas Eve with a few cousins on my side. Eve wasn't having any picture business. But Leah definitely was!

As was Miss Scarlett.

 And Christmas morning after the circus of opening presents, in our dashing new robes- about to smear pumpkin pancakes topped with delicious beef broth all over our faces. Wait. I think it was cinnamon syrup. But it's basically the same thing. Hopefully next year we'll be able to be with more family but it was quite an event with combining just the two little ones of ours. How did we ever grow up, Nessa? How did we get here? How are we mothers? I'll still pin you to the ground or give you a good 'ol fashioned heeling every time we're together. Weird.

Farewell 2012. We've loved you. Thank you for bringing Isla into our lives. She is something spectacular. Welcome 2013, be kind to our family. Hopefully sometime I'll sleep more than 2-3 hours at a time while you're with us.

Eavesdropping at Disneyland

We got back into town from 4 days at Disneyland last Friday with some people Jason works with. It was a totally glorious trip and our children were superbly behaved. I'm not lying. The over stimulation of the happiest place on earth and the exhaustion that comes along with it is prime for major melt downs, including my own. But we really didn't have any. It had to do with the fact that everyone in the family went back to the hotel every day we were there and napped from noon until 3. All of us. Well, Jason had to be an overachiever and go to the gym during la ciesta the last couple of days of our trip. But mostly everyone, every day. 

And I rediscovered an important truth. Human beings need sleep.

Isla is waking up STILL at least 3 or 4 times a night ever since she got sick last month. It feels like a sick joke. Seriously that ear infection has rocked our world and left unbelievably ugly residue. The worst part is, I think she's coming down with something again. She's been feeling a bit feverish today and won't let me put her down. Seriously heart wrenching. And around and around we go in this family, spreading disease and infection between one another, passing it back and forth like it's homemade bread. UGH. Anyway, I don't nap during the day. I just have too much to do all the time. I have three little girls and a wee little husband to take care of. I have a house that messies itself and holidays to plan for. And it seems like even on the days I'm really committed to napping, when Lucy goes to preschool, Scarlett and Isla go down for their naps, I'm suddenly completely energized because I have a few spare moments of me time. So for the past 2 months, sleep has been put on the serious back burner in my life.  

But while we were at Disneyland... I slept. I napped every. single. day. For at least an hour to two. I had no to-do list. I had nothing to clean. I had no lists to check off. And lemme tell you something. My rose colored glasses came back. My husband was attractive again. Food tasted good again. My sparkling charisma came back to me that I thought was gone for good. My jokes were funny again. People liked me again. I was singing along with all the Disney and holiday music everywhere I went, hi-fiving princesses and Mickeys all the while. I was tickling under Santa's beard and side-hip bumpin' Mrs. Clause and picking up bell hops and twirl-hugging them.

Mothers of babies and small children need to nap. I'm bringing napping back. And I'm dismissing any guilt associated with it.

Item two on the agenda. Before we get down to the nitty gritty (pictures of our trip) of this post, I gotta clear the air here. I have a few things I gotta get off my chest. Some skeletons I gotta clean outta my closet, if you will. Okay truthfully that last idiom doesn't really apply. But I've been waiting for a reason to say that on my blog for a long time. 

Ahem.

Okay, so we got into Anaheim on December 9, a very special day for Jason and me. 6 years of wedded bliss. Our anniversary! We'd been road tripping it from Utah, singing that Tony! Toni! Tone! song to each other the whole day (not so much, If I had no loot. But mostly, Anniversary), saying our "remember whens" about that great day of jubilation among the heavens and the earth.

That night we got checked into our hotel around 6ish and some friends of ours offered to watch our babes so hubby and I could catch some dinner together and further reminisce and sing songs and recite poetry to one another. So we got our kiddies fed dinner, got them put to bed and snuck out of our hotel room while Ashlyn snuck in. Isn't that nice? It was wonderful.

We went to a place called the Napa Rose and had some seriously decadent dinner. In fact, I paid for that decadence over the few days that would follow, but it was worth it. And if you ever go there, order the "World's best hot chocolate" for dessert. Because it's been clinically proven, it actually IS the world's best hot chocolate. It's like symphony bars were just melted down and mixed with cream and cinnamon and love. Jason and I had huge chocolate milk mustaches and glazed over eyes walking back to our hotel room afterward.

I'd like to touch briefly on a conversation we overheard during dinner. Hence, the title of this post. There was a youngish couple sitting next to us who we had talked with occasionally, (mostly me making jokes that my head was going to explode from deliciousness because we ordered something they recommended to us and then them in turn laughing so hard that they had no choice but to splash their wine up into their faces. Actually, no. But I wish. Wouldn't that just be the culmination of your mortal experience?... if someone were to laugh so hard at something you said that they just had to pick up their glass and splash their beverage all over their face? Man oh man. I'm gonna try to find a way to make that happen).

Anyway, they were really friendly and we had exchanged some good chatter when we first sat down and then both couples had become engrossed in our own conversations. (They continuously swirled their glasses of wine in hand, sniffing into their glasses repeatedly and discussing the aroma while Jason and I discussed who was a bigger heart throb out of AC Slater and Zack. AC all the way btw. I love me some dark hair and muscles. The term, "heart throb" is a direct quote from my husband. I would never refer to another man in that way.)

Then our waitress comes up and fills our neighbors' drinks and the following conversation ensues: How long have you two been married? Couple: Eleven years! Waitress: Wow! Have any kids? Couple: Nope! We are just fine, just the two of us. Waitress: You're smart. Woman: Ya know, it's funny because we come to Disneyland and just watch all of the kids throwing tantrums and the husbands and wives yelling at each other over it all and we just look at each other and feel grateful that's not us. Waitress: It's so true. I bet you enjoy Disneyland more than they do!

And they all laughed together and had a jolly old time. yada yada yada, etc.

Excuse me? You talkin' ta me? Really? You're smart? she said. For not having kids? Yeah. Smart. I will be the first to attest that having kids has only made us more intelligent. Like this late night (9:30 pm) text conversation Jason and I had while laying silently across the dark hotel room from each other, each at our respective "post," waiting for our kids to fall asleep. I'd like to clarify, my texting is found in blue, while Jason's is found in white:

See my point? Regular people probably wouldn't have even noticed that he said are for our. But I did. NOTHING, including grammatical and orthographic errors of any kind, gets past me since having kids. 

Okay back to the dinner scene. I don't remember the rest of the conversation because by that time my blood was beginning to boil and I started to breathe heavy... and Jason started to talk me down the way everyone does with the Hulk in the verge of an outbreak. (Speaking of heart throbs... Mark Ruffalo!!! Again- direct quote from my husband. I'd never say that about Mark myself.) I wasn't in reality getting all Hulkish but in my mind's eye I did spy the three wee angels we had just tucked into bed and I immediately felt defensive for them. I felt like we were overhearing this couple talking smack about our little daughters, and that crap doesn't fly. 

Then I tuned back into their conversation and overheard the woman say to the waitress, "A big house on the hill? Or oops! forgot my pill..." and before I knew it the entire restaurant was in stretched stir-up pants, leg warmers and ratted crimped hair dancing around our table in choreographed moves singing to us 

 Ev’ry day the world is getting smaller by far... Bursting at the seams, what can we do? Zero population is the answer, my friend.. Without it the rest of us are doomed! 

Who can survive? Who can survive? Not one of us will be alive! Who can be strong? Who can be strong? When all the food is gone? 

Actually, nothing eventful happened after that. I don't know anything about this couple or waitress. I don't want to judge them because I would hate to be judged by a conversation someone overheard me having. I say stupid things sometimes. Very rarely. But it's been known to happen in my life once or twice. (My husband is haunted by telling some girls his freshman year at BYU that birthing a baby probably doesn't even hurt that bad and that women are just overdramatizing it. Whew!! That's a doozy right there! He loses sleep over it 20 years later.) So what I'm saying- I don't know them. Maybe they're not able to have kids and this is their go-to story. It didn't sound like that. They just sounded like kid-haters. I really wanted someone to ask if we had kids so we could say 3 in just 6 years! We don't mess around! and pull out the photo albums from my purse and occupy the rest of the fancy dinner with stories about their worse blow-outs. But nobody did. No one asked us. Maybe I just have maternal written all over me, so they already knew. Or maybe they were scared by the eyes bugging out of my head and my plastered-on maniacal smile.

Mostly, it made me sad. I wanted to tell them they have no idea what they're missing out on in life. The good the bad and the ugly of it, but mostly the joy in the truest sense of the word. The joy and the love. I don't remember easy ever being the indicator of what's worth-while in this life. Don't get me wrong, I choose easy and convenient when I can, Winder Dairy home delivers my milk after all. But parenting in nature is not easy or convenient. Not for my neighbors, nor my friends, and not for me.  Truth is, it's actually not. about. me. At all. And that's the soul transforming beauty of it all.

Bottom line, I'm doing exactly what the Lord wants me to be doing with my life. I'm not saying everyone should be doing what I'm doing, I know that people face lots of unique circumstances. But this is exactly what He wants me, Meradith, to be doing. The last thing I need to feel is that someone is standing there watching me while my kid's having a melt-down and hi-fiving because they're not me. Every day of my life is filled with an overabundance of serving. I don't always do it happily. But I show up, every single day. And there's nothing about that that I would change if I could. I'm doing what the Lord wants me to be doing and there's no feeling on the planet that can compare to that peace in my heart. I know this is His will for me not because the people I go to church with tell me that. It's because He tells me that, often, in the most private chambers of my heart. I love those kids with a love that consumes my heart right up; more love than I ever thought it could possibly bear. And no one in this world could make me wish any of it away for a more convenient trip to a theme park.

And by the way, I've been to Disneyland as an adult without kids, with a guy I used to date, and there is absolutely no way on earth that was more fun than it is taking our kids. Just like Christmas. Not as fun, I don't care who you are. Maybe you'll debate me on this one, but I'm feeling extra gushy towards my girls because they were true angels on the trip. Don't knock vacationing with them 'til you try it. I know people used to say that in high school about smoking weed, but this one is legit.

Okay, I feel better. Maybe that couple will stumble onto my blog sometime. And they'll remember that there was a reason they were thinking we should be best friends while sitting in that restaurant. And maybe they'll remember one of the reasons was because I had spit up on my shoulder and wore it like it was nobody's business. And another reason might be the black booties I bought on sale that day that I had on.

Onto the photos. Here we are when we stayed in our Vegas hotel overnight on our trek down. I love this picture. So much!

This is at the California Grand Disneyland Hotel right when Santa came in the room. That little Lucy's excitement was just palpable. 

Scarlett had an unbelievable amount of concern to express to Merida. Mostly about the mean bear but some about how she on earth she manages that mane.

Remember Jason, how you kept telling me to scoot over a little bit more? And just a little bit more? Trying to get me out of the picture? That was funny huh.

The one and only Isla June. She didn't show up in quite as many pics because I had her hidden away most of the time, to protect her from the paparazzi.

Jason on the small world ride. He loves that song so much. 

I actually did want to go on it over and over and over again. So darling this time of year.

Again, palpable joy and excitement. Ohhhh I love this face.

Jason and I on a lover's get-away to the Indiana Jones ride. Might be my all-time fave. 

And bidding farewell to Disneyland as we pulled out of the hotel parking lot. Real tears, real sense of despair and loneliness. Poor little lamb.

Happy 6 years to the man who owns my heart. I'm so happy we're in this life together. And I'm so happy you take me and our runts to Disneyland once in a while and let me nap while you go to the gym without judging me. And thank you for being able to order for me if I'm in the bathroom when the waiter comes, even when I haven't told you what I want. Thank you for thinking I'm funnier and cooler than every one else's wives... not to mention everyone elses' husbands. Seasons greetings to all. 

Gone 'til November.

Long post headed your way. I wish I could tell you to just skim it. But I decided early on that I don't allow that on my blog. Sigh.

Okay, fine... if you must. But you know we are gonna have that awkward moment when you mention something about this post and then I'll rapid fire quiz you about another section of this same post and you won't know what I'm talking about and you'll fake chuckle pretending like you know what I'm talking about but you won't contribute anything at all to that part of the convo and then I'll know you only skimmed. And you'll know that I know. And I'll know that you know that I know.  

This title doesn't make much sense. But I used to love that song and sortof forgot about it and Wyclef all together until this moment.  Now I have it in my head, which I'll thankfully trade in for Dora theme any day. Wonder Pets theme? Questionable. But Dora, yes. Always looking to replace Dora. Where did November go? How does the time go by so fast? I'm sorry to all you cliche haters out there. But I really have no idea. Okay I have a little idea what happened this month. But before we address that, I realized I never ever blogged about Halloween. So indulge me enough time for a few measly pictures and then I promise we will get on to November.

The wickedest witch Scarlett. She is still obsessed with being a "mean witch." Just ask her Aunt Cathy.

And Lucy the good witch/fairy/princess/all things fair and delightsome. It's amazing how two years ago Lucy was a lion and Scarlett was a lamb and we all thought it was so fitting. They've somehow swapped in nature, to the point where we suspect Scarlett is having a bad influence on Lucy. This year's costumes were even more fitting.

Speaking of fitting costumes, Isla June, recycling that little lamb suit. When we only had Lucy I thought she would always be my favorite. But then with the more babes I have I realize that whoever my baby is at the time is my favorite. Lucy and Scarlett can't read yet, so I'll just put that out there now. I guess when they're all past baby age, they'll all equally share their mothers love. But until then? Pass me the one who only smiles and coos and doesn't destroy anything but a few occasional outfits please.

Look at her. Luscious. 

And here we are at Jason's work party, while Lucy ditched us to be at her preschool party. Didn't think she'd have "cooler parties" to attend quite so early. But speaking of recycled costumes, this year might be the last you'll see of our Red Riding hood and Big bad wolf for some time. Because there's always another wolf and riding hood just around the corner. And that's way awkward because it's like wearing the same prom dress, and you just can't talk to that person about anything else. "So, where'd you find your hood?"or, "Nice berry gathering basket there..." or, "You going classic story book version or modern version?" or, "Any relation to the Big Bad Wolf in 3 little pigs?" And because our costumes are always so much better. Just kidding. Sortof.

October in Utah Valley finished up pretty much like this in our back yard. Divine + Serene + Splendid. All of those words in one autumn. My favorite. Divenedid. 

Then November began and we were off to Jamaica for the annual NorthStar trip. Here's some of our very, very favorites, Julie and Curtis (AKA Mervis- I'm not divulging which name his mother gave him and which one we did.)

I tried to figure out a way to describe vacationing with Julie and Merv, and really there are no words. So I'll add this little ditty here, because everything you need to know about taking trips with them can be summed up in these 7 silent seconds.

 
This might be my favorite picture of them from the whole trip. 

And here's Jason and me at dinner while singing Aaron Neville's, "Don't know much" to one another. It's sortof our theme song and we try to do it in public as much as possible.

And Isla June refused a bottle for several weeks leading up, so she came as a stow away, the lucky duckling.

And if you're wondering how she was on the trip, take a gander. She blew our minds. She was basically like this for 4 days straight. She was almost translated. What a good girl.

The trip was the best. Except for the first 36 hours or so. We lost our luggage, a bird pooped on Jason's breakfast, threw a rock at him and called him the B word all in the same sitting, the AC in our room wasn't working right, Isla had a ginormous blow out that ruined her only outfit, (hence diaper pic), we were locked out of our rooms,  I thought I had lost my phone, Jason got into a scuffle with a drunk dude at the pool bar and ended up warding him off with some synchronized swimming dance moves in the water, etc etc etc. But after all that, our bags finally showed up and things really turned around for us. And it was all good from then on out, baby. Jason and that drunk guy even ended up exchanging friendship bracelets and vowing to be pen pals.

And then we got home and found out an early blizzard had struck while we were away. And had taken out a few of our trees. That tree that landed close to our front entrance broke our quaint little metal sitting bench right in half. Makes me feel really good about letting my little kids be outside during the winter. Crazy that we found out later that the blizzard was actually because the elements were angry with the presidential election results. 

At least my sweeties got to make their first snowman of the season. That's cousin Carson in a homemade garbage bag snowsuit, fashioned by none other than the exclusive Paris designer, Grammy. Part of the Derelict line.

And a week later, here we have the snowman from the Silence of the Lambs.

Also, once we were home and settled again, I got super sick along with all three of our babes, which resulted in antibiotics for them all. Thank goodness taking the medicine was no problem at all, baby in particular practically begged for it she loved it so much. 

Okay, seriously worse than pulling teeth. And on a side note, she despises all solids! Seriously won't have a thing to do with anything but milk. 7 months old. Oh well. I guess I'll just follow her lead. Not like she's missing out on any chub here.

So whoever was casting voodoo spells at us because we went to Jamaica? You got us. You really really got us good. You're soooo funny. But make my husband sick next time. He never ever gets sick and lacks compassion.

And last but not least, we have our Thanksgiving feast. The food was so yummy; the pies, the roast beast. Grammy and Papa came down for the day, so the little girls got oohed and ahhed at by both sets of grandparents that day.

And here we have the one and only time I put my plate down and I took the camera out. Scarlett and Grampa trying to out-belly each other. I say they both win.

In case you've been wondering how Jason and I are doing, the good news is that we are still head over heels for each other. And that's not changing anytime soon. I keep waiting for the honeymoon stage to be over, when we can actually start to get on each others nerves sometimes like other married couples we know. After 6 years of wedded bliss, still waiting. 

So we staged this little clip to look like other married couples. I asked him the same question probably 4 times in a row, and then a 5th once I had the camera out and ready for the bludgeoning that was sure to follow. I couldn't believe he took the bait so readily. But remember, we only acted this all out as to not make you feel bad about your marriage.

 

Phew. Can't believe we made it through this entire post. There's too much to be thankful for. Words can't express. Far too much indeed.

Half a year come and gone.

Seriously, I'm becoming a bad blogger. I gotta be more regular. I mean, one of my serious new year's resolutions this year was more blogging, less parenting. But the funny thing is, Jason was called into the bishopric a few months ago and it's amazing how little spare time I thought he had before that happened. Which is a translation for my spare time of course; time without littles crawling all over me, crawling inside my clothes, crawling onto my shoulders. But let me tell you something magical. Isla and Scarlett are both napping right now and Lucy is at preschool. My dryer is beeping at me, full of fully dried clothes that need folding and my sink is overflowing with dirty dishes. And here I am with you. What a good person I am. So selfless.

Point is, my Isla June is 6 months old today. So I'm sorry for all you baby haters out there that don't like reading blogs that have to do with peoples' kids. I'm sorry for those of you who are tuning in hoping I will complain to you about my husband or give you some rich fantastic piece of gossip. I do like blogging about those things. But I gotta give this girl some spotlight for a minute. Because she is the BEST. BABY. WHO'S. EVER. LIVED. ON. PLANET. EARTH. Waaaaaaay better than any of your babies are, ever were or ever will be.

I know what you're thinking. That I'm smug. And maybe I am a little.

Okay so 1. I don't really think you hate babies. But maybe you do? I hope not. Creep. 2. Case in point of my slight defensiveness in above paragraph: the status of a offspring-less guy I went to high school with went like this the other day: "Does it bug anyone else when you go to someone's facebook photos and all that's in there is a bunch of pictures of their kids? I didn't come here to look at your kids. I came here to see if you've gotten fat since high school."

I laughed good and hard about that. And then I immediately went through my FB pics and counted how many were of my kids. And then got out my pics from high school and compared them to now to see if I've "gotten fat" since then.

Just kidding, but I did tell him I wouldn't be offended if he blocked me because there were too many pics of my repulsive children in his newsfeed. In fact, I would never know if he blocked me, or defriended me. But I get where he's coming from. I get it, I get it. 

Having said that, isn't she sublime?!?!

She started eating rice cereal a couple weeks ago. I really don't want her to start eating real foods, is that bad? I just don't have time for it. Nursing is so easy and convenient. I heard it just gets difficult when they go to kindergarten. 

She wore this expression for 95% of the time. Not the biggest fan. 

I don't really have time to bathe her either. But she gets loved on all day and all night. And that's the important thing here folks. As far as I've heard, no one's ever died of going several days smelling like spit up with no baths. I mean, I'm livin' through it, aren't I?

I want to tell you about so many things happening right now. I want to tell you about Nessa coming to town for 2 weeks last month, I want to show you the hundreds of pictures of our magnificent trees this time of year, I want to tell you about the first round of Halloween parties (mind-blowing) we attended over the weekend. But I just can't commit to those blog posts. Not just yet anyway. There will inevitably be a Halloween post I can commit to a few pics of this baby sis of ours along with all the mommy cliches (TRUTHS) of what it's like raising babies and how fast time flies. And I can give you the link to the post Vanessa wrote about her trip to Utah, even though it's against my best judgement. She basically says everything about it that I would anyway, minus our contortionist photos. So, here it is.  

And here's a little of the Autumn magic around these here parts: season's first snowfall. 

 Hard to believe that this was the demanded attire shortly thereafter. Snow was gone by noon. 

 Another one of that Isla June. She's so cherubic and perfect. 

 Here's the three sissies watching a Halloween movie together. Texas Chainsaw massacre I think it was. 

 And I'll go ahead and wrap this up with this very strange shot of Barbie and Ken directly after their wedding ceremony, when Lucy was so overcome with joyful emotion that she pounced on poor little Isla like a tomcat. Isla, too was overcome with emotion. Obviously. Weird things go down in our house.

But we are good and healthy and happy. Happy 6 months to a perfect addition to our family. Now to dishes. And to address the fact that my kids have been calling me, "Grandma" all day. Because I made the mistake of pointing out that I was the Grammy of their baby dolls.