My cutie pah-tootie

How DO you spell that? Cutie patooty? Cutie Patewtie? Does pah-tootie qualify as onomonopeia? These are the questions my mind wrangles with on a daily basis.

But that's not really the point I'm trying to make. Sorry to distract you from...the bragging I'm really on here to do. I made Maeve a hat. See image to the right. See the image, but don't believe it. Maeve is a pro at taking it off. It took two adults and about 12 attempts before we got this winner of a shot.

Soak in the joy. Even if she doesn't like my hat, she is pretty freaking adorable.

Eddie Munster Look Alike Contest

Happy Halloween (Early). Not sure who all will get this reference, but the similarities are undeniable. Eddie Munster, meet my Maevie Monster!

Guess What?

Guess What? Chicken Butt. Yep, I got you. How'd that make you feel? A little dumb, a little silly? Well, welcome to last night at 3am.

It was dark and cozy under the sheets. I'm a side sleeper and I was flipping over when I heard an enthusiastic voice next to me ask, "Guess what?"

Guess what? Um it's 3am, that's what. I don't know! Why are you making me guess something in the middle of the night!? Seriously, what could I possibly need to know right now? And how am I supposed to guess it without any pretext?

Now might be a good time to tell you that my husband is a sleep-talker. He has said a wide variety of things in his sleep. These include: "Golf!" and "adopt a baby" (during my pregnancy). So, it occured to me that he might be sleeping. But what if he wasn't? He was pretty articulate....

About ten seconds passed since the original question was asked, so I answered, "What?" And then I wait.

And I wait.

And I wait. No answer. Nada. He's out cold. (How does he do that!?) He was totally asleep! And I felt a little dumb and a little silly for answering. But it does make you want to try it out, doesn't it? Just to mess with your partner a little bit...

Last words

Have you ever thought about what your last words to someone would be if you never saw them again? This thought occurs to me periodically. After a deluge of rain makes driving somewhat perilous, I wonder what if I don't make it home? What will be the last thing I said to Scott, to my parents, my siblings, my friends?

Most people depart for work or the store, etc by saying "I love you" or "See you later" or "Have a good one" or even "Take Care." The other morning, I had a different goodbye experience. Let me paint you a picture...

It's a grey morning, some remnant fog is still hanging in the air. Scott is scurrying around our apartment getting the last of his things into his bag for school. We have a brief kiss, a "love you! have a good day. I'll see you tonight" exchange. Maeve and I stand on the porch since it is warm out and watch him hop into the car. Then...he pulls a k-turn. School is now in the opposite direction. He rolls the window down (okay, he powers the window down. I mean who "rolls" anymore, right?) and yells out to me,

"Look at this bird poop! What the hell is wrong with this bird? He must have had avian diarrhea. Sheesh."

And up the window goes. And off he drives. I puzzle as his tail lights disappear. I certainly hope this romantic sentiment is not the last thing that will be said between us. These words, regardless, may live in infamy. Thank you ever so much for sharing, darling. I will love you forever, too.

Blog FAIL

Sigh.

I haven't written anything since August 16th. I wish I could say I have been exceedingly busy, but honestly, I just put it on my procrastination list. I made some dinners, visited with some friends, did the laundry, changed a LOT of diapers. I found lots of things to do to avoid writing. And thus, here we are. How am I ever going to write a novel!?

Well, my short reflection for the day is about Maeve (shocker). Scott and I have decided that living with her is like living with a raccoon. She chews on everything, tears any piece of paper she can find into a thousand pieces, knocks things over, chews on wires (or attempts to anyway) and God help us if we try to have a quiet cuddle moment. Those fierce feet are kicking whatever they can make contact with and her hands generally use our faces - and particularly my ears for whatever reason - as handles to climb up on our heads. She is on the verge of crawling, truly on the very cusp, and then we, the Raccoon Ranglers are really in trouble.

Not Ever'body a Diva, Kelly

The weather has been hot lately. Duh, it's summer. I know. But it has been REALLY hot. And we were all getting a little bit feverish (the cabin kind) so we headed out to the mall to do a few laps in the AC. It was refreshing, in many ways.

We took in the latest fashions mostly from the storefronts. We also took in way too much cologne courtesy of Hollister. (Where is the market research that says if you gag passerby's they will be sure to enter in order to further smother their olfactory sense? Ugh.) But we did go into Old Navy because we had a Groupon that was going to expire relatively soon.

We'd gone before to Old Navy and I just couldn't find anything I wanted. I've turned into that mom that would rather buy adorable clothes for my baby than try anything on myself. While that is noble on some levels, it's rooted in the fact that my body has changed and I lack the desire to either whip it back into shape or accommodate the changes.

Sigh.

But I needed jeans. It was unavoidable. And though I had passed on them saying I didn't like any of the styles, Scott thoughtfully went over to the jeans department and found a pair, that I could not deny, met all my qualifications. So, I was headed to the fitting room. There, I met Deena.

Deena was a fabulous lady. She fawned over Maeve (who doesn't?). She chatted up Scott while I tried the jeans on. And she gave her very honest opinion when I came out. And came out. And came out. In all, I was in and out of the fitting rooms three times. And I don't mean the room itself. I went back to the floor and came back to the fitting rooms three times. By the third time, she saw me coming and said, "You're back again? I got you, Kelly. Here you go. First door on the right." So, when I came out in a pair of jeans, I had a very supportive ally ready to help, (in ADDITION to my wonderful husband).

Deena: "Oh, girl. Those look nice."

Me: "Thanks...but I'm not sure..."

Scott: "What don't you like?"

Me: "I don't know. They fit at the waist, and we can hem the length, but...I don't know"

Deena: "Are they the Diva cut? Or the Dreamer? I can't do the Skinny. Oh, my. Lord, no. No, skinny for me. But you look good in them Divas, girl. You know, not ever'body a diva, Kelly."

You can say that she was just trying to make a sale, but she doesn't get commission on a pair of jeans.

So, I did buy those jeans.

And I do look good in them. (No, I'm not posting a picture.)

Thanks, Deena! And thanks, Scott, for your shopping savvy and perseverance. I know I don't make it easy but I hope I look like a (low-maintenance) Diva on our next hot date!

Stink Face

This is my beautiful daughter.

I'm not exactly sure how this evolved. But I'm pretty sure I encouraged it. It's hilarious. She snorts through her nose in short, quick gasps as she puckers her lips and wrinkles her nose. It's a hilarious juxtaposition of her adorable exterior with her emerging feisty personality.

What's not to love?!

Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiink Faaaaaaaaaaaace...