Just Plane Lucky

People, the travel gods seriously smiled down on us yesterday. Evie slept the entire way to Providence (that's 1 1/2 hours in the car, folks). The agents at the security gate were super kind and helpful. My husband didn't get a hernia from the umpteen carry on items he was lugging through the terminals. We got to board first and there were SEVEN vacant seats all around us. Then Evie did not have a giant poop on the airplane (a possibility that Graham had been waking up in cold sweats over for weeks).

And then? AND THEN?!?! Evie fell asleep! The first 1.5 hours of the flight were spent in complete silence. I got to brush up on my Tap Defense skills. Very important. Have I mentioned how I like Evie the best when she is asleep?
Well, asleep-Evie is my fllllaaaaavorite.

So she naps. And then? AND THEN!?!? She wakes up and is all "Hello. I feel incredibly rested and would like to giggle at you for the remainder of the flight."

So of course I'm all "Yes please. And thank you. I'll make moronic noises to further exacerbate your laughter."

So, to summarize: Thank you Jesus.

The only bad part: my foot fell asleep during her nap. And instead of doing the it-tingles-in-a-bad-way dance I just sit there. I take one for the team. Because, people, only an idiot would chance waking a sleeping baby at 20,000 feet. In fact, had the plane been an ocean and a shark had swam up and begun slowly gnawing my foot to a bloody stump, I still wouldn't have moved. Not in a million years.

We got really lucky, and that is not lost on me. This trip was infinitely better than the last plane ride we took with her: when I had to pump in the lavatory, proceeded to spill my hard-earned milk all over the nasty, urine-caked floor, and then threw myself out of the exit door. Or maybe I just thought about that last past.

Regardless. It is so good to be home. I hope that you and your's have a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving.


Weekend Visitors

Ya'll (anytime I am around Wynnes, talking to Wynnes, or talking about Wynnes my Southern accent comes out like hillbillies at a Stone Mountain laser show); ya'll, this past weekend one of my Dad's sisters and her Daughter, Haley (my Cousin, for those of you with no sense of deductive reasoning) came to visit us.

I have been going to Pickens, Mississippi (I bet ya'll didnt know that I was from a place called PICKENS. There is an actual story about how it got it's name: something about a man with no shirt on, picking his nose and falling off a bridge to his death. No lie. I am not making this up. This is what they told us as children. Right before handing us the keys to the riding lawnmowers so that we could pretend they were cars and the backyard was the grocery store -- in hindsight maybe not the safest practice ever -- but so much fun) anyways... I've been going to Pickens at least once a year since I was little, but since my life has gotten a little move-across-the-country-then-back-to-the-northern-most-tip-of-the-other-side-of-said-country-have-an-unexpected-baby-in-the-middle-of-a-research-heavy-graduate-program-support-husband-beginning-new-career busy, we have not been able to visit Pickens in a couple of years.

Ya'll, (see how I did that?) no trip that has ever been made by any human being in the history of the world has ever meant so much to me. It was Haley's first time on an airplane ever, and while I was a little bit sad that her premier trip on a big steel bird took her from one podunk town RIGHT to another, I had so much fun with her. I am in the process of staging a hostage-negotiation-scenario so that her parents will let her come back up in February for her birthday.

Here are some pictures of them loving on Miss Evie. Watching Angie with her was really emotional for me because it was exactly what I imagine it would have been like to watch my Grandma with her... Angie has every single one of her good qualities: her selflessness, tender heart, and steadfast values. And I just love her so much. And I love her daughter. And I loved watching her daughter with my daughter.

Please come back soon! (as if you have a choice... hostage. negotiation. remember?)



For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Newton must not have ever cared for a newborn because, according to his law, a little thing like giving a child formula should never result in the ABOMINATION that finds its way into Evie's diaper once every two days. The smell is enough to fry your brains and make your eyeballs bleed.

Seriously, formula is super convenient and all, but I'm not sure it is worth the entire second floor of our house smelling like the public restroom at a refried bean factory. We had an...err...episode...today, and here was the precaution that had to be taken in order to make sure that neither myself nor Graham threw up all over Evie's cute, polka-dotted rug.

Parenting makes you quite resourceful.
For reals: I have the best husband in the world.


Stinky McNasty Face

This look is specifically reserved for her parents.

And yes, I know that this is the "gonna-be-crawling-in-less-than-a-month" stance.

I don't want to talk about it.



We have been slowly Ferberizing Evie over the past week. Or trying to, anyways. That said, I haven't actually studied his method, but rather have taken bits and pieces of what I know about Cry It Out and used it with the little one.
I know that this method isn't always looked kindly upon by Moms, but I had to. HAD TO.
Lately, I have been getting no sleep. Like, you know those National Geographic shows with the mangy, flea infested Lion who is knawing on the once-whole leg of a one-whole Zebra?
That Lion? That's Evie. And that dead Zebra with no hope for a future or happiness? That's my sleep.
See? HAD. TO.
We have run into a few glitches along the way. Like finding out that Evie is as addicted to her swaddle as some people are to Heroin. Yes, my daughter is a swaddle junkie. She is currently looking for a sponsor if anyone is interested. I can't do it because, frankly, after about 15 minutes of her screaming I am all "just do it. just USE already."

*As I am writing this Evie is log-rolling across the basement floor. Completely. Mobile. I am terrified.*


Cough, Cough

Ugh... this was the worst Halloween ever.

Graham and I have both been feeling really crappy and, well, it seems as though we have been struck with a case of


(insert canned laughter here)

I am a big fan of the trendy-social-phenomena costume.

Plus I DESPISE sexy halloween. And what is less sexy than an infectious pig?