A New Beginning

You know how sometimes people say: "I've got good news and bad news... which do you want first" and it's usually something like "The bad news is your hamster was eaten by a triceratops, but I brought you a piece of black licorice" (which is actually like two pieces of bad news because, if you like black licorice chances are your taste receptors are non-functioning... and maybe your brain, too).
Well, I've got good news and bad news:
Bad News: I am not going to be blogging at Three Scobeys anymore
Good News: Business and Atlanta and Pretty-much-everything-involved-in-life is going so incredibly well (and is super-duper busy). There just aren't enough hours in the day to do all of the things that I want to do right now... which is totally fine... but something's gotta give... and this is it. This blog (and all of you amazing people who have bolstered my resolve and wiped my tears with your comments and support) has been so good for me; it gave me an outlet at a time in my life when I most needed one, and it allowed me to chronicle the first year of Evie's life (which is great since I never even cracked the binding of her baby-book).

This isn't the end of ThreeScobeys, though. It's more like a merging. Instead of blogging here, there will be a weekly (and, on really awesome weeks, bi/tri-weekly) personal post over at Scobey Photography. So, if you still want to stay up to date on what's going on in our lives, you can! (CHEERS! CONFETTI! VUVUZELAS!).
In fact, the first post is already up... just waiting with baited breath for you to go and affirm it with a comment. See you there!


Eleven Months

Evie -loo-who turned 11 months on May 16th. She has changed so much this month; it is all-at-once completely magical and unbelievable. She has gone, in four short weeks, from being a baby to being a little girl.
First, there was the walking (I KNOW, right? People, please keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle at all times... we are moving at warp speed), then there were the teeth, and now? Now we are running. As in: "I-want-to-go-from-here-to-there-a-little-faster-so-I'll-just-pick-up-the-pace" running. My child is a GENIUS. No big deal.
This was the first of her month'days (ya' know, month-birthdays...) that we have spent in Atlanta. It feels so good to be here, surrounded by friends and family and Chick-fil-a's... it's even better than I imagined, if that's possible.

This was one of the most wonderfully difficult months to watch you grow. Not because it was hard, but because I am not ready for you to be a big girl. I am not ready for you to need me less... because I will never need you less. You have filled a hole in my heart that I didn't even know existed.
I cannot put into words how beautiful you are... how amazing you are. Your brilliance leaves me speechless on a daily basis. You know how to go up the stairs and then turn around and go down them backwards. You started saying "bye-bye" today... just like that. You heard Lolly say it to you when she got out of the car, and you said it back. Like it was NOTHING. And I am so proud of you... but I wish you would slow down a little bit. Oh, and now? When you don't get your way? You scream at us, like full on vocal-demons-of-the-underworld-coming-out-of-my-throat screaming. That I could do without. But, as much as you are able to do, you are also very cautious... which means that you don't get hurt a lot (mommy's nerves thank you).
To live in your world means to see everything as if it is for the first time: to smile at every stranger we pass... to get excited when you see balloons at the grocery store. I will never be able to adequately thank you for everything that you have taught me.
I love you more with every breath.
- Mommy


Where My Mother-Fathers at?

My sister and brother-in-law sent me this video a few night ago... and I laughed so friggin' hard. Probably because Graham and I rap as much as humanly possible - about everything from the potty to what kind of curry paste we are using in dinner.

Seriously, are you kidding me with this brilliant marketing? Someone must have called and told them what parents 2.0 looked like... because *DUH* those people are our twins! God help me when I am a part of a mini-vans commercial's target market... and I LIKE IT!


Georgia Peaches

It's been a while... but here is an update: WE LIVE IN ATLANTA!!
Also: I have my Masters, Evie has a tooth (right? we are not talking about this. denial.), and Scobey Photography was featured on SW's Southern Wedding of the Week.
Life is literally so good right now that I have nothing to complain about. I cannot even manage to muster up the tiniest bit of cynicism. My blog may be ruined!
Don't worry... I'll find something to be angry and mean about soon.
Evie turns 11-months-old this weekend. Maybe that will piss me off. Actually, I'll probably just get really, really sad.

** They wouldn't let me embed the official video because apparently The Presidents are bitter about their has-been status... so you get to look at a pretty slideshow of fruit. See? I'm angry and mean already. The blog lives!**


Should I Be Worried?

Graham has decided that this is a good time to bring up his dissatisfaction with my hair. THIS, a time when there is clearly nothing else going on; nothing else to be concerned about. He's all: "So... umm... is there anything you can do about that frizz?" And I'm all "well, I could bludgeon you with the blunt end of a pigeon... that would probably fix the problem."
And, you know, maybe I haven't taken the best care of myself since giving-birth-and-getting-my-masters-and-moving-and-changing-careers-and-finding-a-house. Gee golly gosh wizzo, I WONDER WHY?! Also, that's the price you pay for marrying someone who only showers 3 times a week and spends $10 annually on makeup. But we are never late because of me, are we?
But then... then I go to give Evie a bath the other day and I find THIS:
Tell me, Mr. Scobey, husband of four years and father to my daughter, what need have you for PHEROMONES? Is my hair sooooooo unattractively frizzy that you have the need to put yourself back on the market? IS IT?!?
I wikipediad that shizz and you know what I found? Pheromones: "chemicals capable of acting outside the body of the secreting individual to impact the behavior of the receiving individual"
I hope you attract a female. A female WILD BOAR.
And now I bet we are all up on Child Service's radar for bathing our 10-month-old in lady chemicals (or near them. same thing basically.) And when they come knocking on our door I am SO throwing you under the bus, Cracker. Be forewarned.
But then I found this.
So maybe he isn't looking for another woman. It's just that our marriage is boring. Phew. I FEEL SO MUCH BETTER NOW!

**graham really didn't want me to post this. so, you know... I did. love you honey.**


Double Digit Oldness

Evie turned ten-months today. I remember rocking her when she was just a few weeks old, tears streaming down my face as I sang "I love you, more than anything", wishing it were true... willing it to be true. I remember how painful it was to feel disconnected from my daughter. I never could have imagined that, in just a few short months, all of that pain would seem like a distant memory; that I would never be able to recall loving her with any less than all of me.

Missy Goo,
You have managed to do it again. You've managed to make me fall even more in love with you. You are the smartest baby this side of the Mississippi (actually, the Universe, but I don't want to offend all of the babies who read my blog). You learned how to hug this month. It is painfully adorable. You make the cutest little sound when you squeeze; like "mmmmmmmmmm mmmmm" (I think you learned it from your Pops). You wave now, too, which makes you even more magnetic to strangers. They are mesmerized by you and your beautiful, blue eyes (I am, too). My life has changed so much over the past ten months. YOU have changed my life so much. I want to pinch myself sometimes, when I'm cuddling you and those little arms wrap around my neck, because I know that I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. I know for certain that I don't... so all I can be is thankful. And when things get hectic, as they often do when you're finishing up graduate school, moving and running a small business at the same time, all I have to do is look at your smile or hear your funny, machine-gun-laugh, and suddenly everything falls into perspective; I remember what is really important, the rest is just trivial.
Bear has really started to warm up to you, too. In fact, just today he let you crawl in his kennel for the first time. Once you were in there, though, he promptly squeezed out and then used his paw to close the door. It sounds mean, but the teasing goes both ways... At lunch today you stuck your slobbery hand down (holding a piece of chicken) and made Bear think you were going to feed him. Once you had let him lick the chicken for a few seconds, you promptly ate it. It's a good thing me and germs have a pretty decent relationship.


Laundry Joy

I am in home decorating overdrive. I am eating, sleeping, breathing Craig's List right now... and I cannot wait to finally get to Atlanta so that I can put my reupholstering skills to the test. By the way, if anyone has any tips on reupholstering I would really appreciate them... because there is actually a pretty decent chance that I am going to end up with a bunch of naked furniture... it's the putting-it-back-on part that sorta intimidates me.
And this? How fantastic is this? This is going to be going in my laundry room. I really like birds. And french fries.



This morning, this very glorious morning where the birds were singing and top-dogs of the angels decided to take a walk on planet Earth, I slept until 11:00 am. ELEVENOCLOCK! I am completely aware that there are people reading this and cursing my well-rested self. I would be too. Sometimes, when I read here here or here how people are having suuuuuuch amazing days and their children are soooooooo quiet and always sleep on planes I'm all: "mental note: set their car ablaze. roll it down a big hill." So I get it. Misery loves company. But this morning... I slept in until eleven. And I needed it.
The past 14 days have been full of a bunch of Crap-that-shouldn't-have-happened heaped on top of more Crap-we-wish-wouldn't-have-happened and baked at agony for 45 minutes or until unbearable. Our closing in CT got pushed (twice) and we have been traveling like crazy people and have no place to call home and I've been studying for comprehensives and then Evie got sick. Really sick. Running-a-fever-of-104-for-twelve-days sick. She has been having screaming bouts and has been in extreme pain for almost two weeks. And she hasn't been sleeping.
*this is what sick Evie looks like*
So Graham and I have been absolutely exhausted and begging the Universe to please just give us a break.
So we got a little break (thank you Universe)... in the way of blue skys and a healthy baby.
And it's all going to be ok. I know this because, really, my problems are small. I have a beautiful baby and an amazing husband; it's just that, sometimes, even small problems seem overwhelming. It feels good to be working towards something incredible, though. Working towards no more school, owning a small business, working (at a job we LOVE) from home, and living near our families. It feels really, really good. Great, even. And I'll be back to my regular-blogging-self as soon as the semester is over... but until then I hope that you will bare with my sporadic posting (I bet you will because... well... you're all so darn nice).
*she's back to her old self*


Dough! Nuts!

Attention: I Hate Donuts.
Ok. You still there? Just give me a chance to defend myself.
Donuts are like the imposter dessert. The Milli Vanilli of sweet things. If I wanted to eat bread, I'd eat bread. When I want something sweet, though, I expect something that resulted from the mass murder of many cocoa beans. It's only fair.
That said: OhMiGawd! Someone take me here right now. Actually: yesterday. Take me here YESTERDAY!
I want this one
And this one
And this one
And then I'd like to bath in this one, please. Thanks.

This is SUCH a crucial priority for me when we move. Who wants to join?


9 Months

Today we had our nine month pediatrician appointment. Which means that in a little less than 3 months we will be having our ONE YEAR pediatrician appointment. Which means that my brain is about to implode from the sheer thought of the fact that I am going to have a TODDLER soon....so I probably won't even make it to her 1 year appt. Cause I hear that brain implosion can be pretty hazardous to ones' life. Caaa-razy!
No shots today, just a little finger prick...and we got Evie's measurements. Weight: 16 pounds - 6th percentile. Height 27 inches - 25th percentile. She is still a little Scobey with a HUGE personality. The doctor said that she was ahead of the game and super strong. He doesn't know the half of it. Evie is the smartest baby I have ever met. She picks up on things so quickly and she is super curious. Graham calls her Taz. As in, Tasmanian Devil, because she is always, always moving. Usually really quickly and towards something that will hurt her.
And she is LOUD. Good granny, is she loud. She is constantly babbling and laughing and saying "Yo yo yo dawgs, look at me" (she is really hip). Ok, maybe she doesn't freestyle yet, but she has said her first word. See? Genius baby. I told you. "Uh-oh", indeed.
I cannot believe that it has been nine months. I know I say that every month... but it doesn't make it any less true. You have been out of my belly longer than you were in it. Somehow this is both amazing and a little sad. You are a growing girl. And there is nothing in this world that I can do about it. So I breath in every moment with you: let myself forget about work on my days home, turn off the cell phone so I don't miss a single chance to crawl around on the floor with you, sneak in your room when you are asleep so I can stare at you in your crib. I think it takes being a parent to finally realize how quickly time passes, so I am making every effort I can to enjoy the moments. See how much you are teaching me?
I love you an infinite amount. And I am grateful to you for all of the ways that you challenge me, without even knowing it, to be a better person. You are all of the best things about this world wrapped up in one fun-sized, chubby-cheeked package, and I don't know how I got lucky enough to get the job of being your mom... but I am thankful for it every day.



If you haven't seen Legally Blonde than you barely deserve to LIVE... much less understand the title of this post.
I am sitting on the vacuumed floor of my empty house that will be completely vacant tomorrow. Because I am leaving. For good. And this makes me a little bit sad so right now I am going to talk about something that makes me happy. Affirmation.
I am such a sucker for positive affirmation. In fact, one time when we were at will call for a UCONN game the ticket woman told me I was a "smart cookie" for keeping the confirmation # for our tickets (they were having trouble finding them in the system) and I was all: "REALLY?!? Do you want me to marry your son?? Here! HAVE MY UNBORN CHILD!". There might be some deep-seated issues here that need to be gone over in therapy. I'm not sure.
Issues or no issues, this month I received a couple of really awesome blogging-attaboys that made me feel all warm inside (and outside... cause I peed myself).
First Meghan of Tucker Take Tennessee gave me my very first blogging award. She has an awesome blog full of great crafts and recipes and all things super-momish. The award looks like this:
I am a ray of sunshine, aren't I? ARENT I!?!?!
Secondly, I got to be a guest blogger on Modern Mom in a featured article on Mommy Bloggers. I really enjoyed writing for them and hopefully will continue to do so in the future.
So there you have it *pats own back*. But seriously, is there anything better than being told you are doing a good job at something you love? Gold Star!


One Small Step for Man...

One giant LEAP for Scobey-kind!!

Our first official blog post as a husband and wife photography team is up. We are so excited (and kind of emotional, to be totally honest) about all of the huge things that are happening (at a very rapid pace). Thank you all for your neverending support and encouragement. We just love and appreciate you so much.

Stop by and leave Ali and Josh some comment love


Lame Sauce

Sorry for the blogging hiatus... things have been crazy, crazy busy (and it's not gonna settle down anytime soon). I am determined to keep on keepin' on, though... so here we go.
For weeks (and weeks and weeks) I had been dreading last Friday. More than any other day of this gonna-take-three-months-to-get-it-done move. More than any day of my ENTIRE life, even: Like a root canal with no pain meds. On a Saturday. While all your friends are at the beach... being slathered with oil by Chippendales dancers.
It was to be an entire, 16-hour-day of traveling, with my 9-month-old and mother-in-law.
Our morning began at 5am, waking Evie up so that we could begin the long drive from one side of Connecticut to the other so that I could teach from 9-12 before we headed to the Boston Airport. The stars aligned, though, and Evie napped the whole way to UCONN. Then, on the second leg of our drive, Evie took another nap. By the time we got to our gate (all the while carrying two carry-ons each, a baby and a stroller) we were so proud of ourselves that we were fartin' rainbows.
Then, because of Debbie's I'm-BFF-with-the-inventor-of-Delta Diamond Medallion Member status, we got to hop on an earlier flight, sit next to one another, check our bags for free, and BOARD THE PLANE FIRST.
Next time you see her you should channel your best Robin Leach and say "Diaaaaaaamonds, dahhhhhhhhhhling". She would like that. (She was seriously such a rock-star all day...Evie would have probably eaten my tears for lunch if Debbie hadn't been there to help me).
The day was going really well; and guys, leaving the Atlanta airport with SMILES on our faces felt pretttty good. After a full day of traveling I would have been satisfied with everyone having all of their appendages intact. But no: we go big. We were SMILING. Diamonds, y'all. Diamonds.
But then we got into the car. With a tired Evie. At 5:15 on a Friday evening. In Atlanta. And here's where I will tell you that listening to a baby cry, neigh... scream, for 2 hours is worse than getting a curb sandwich. So now you know.
But then, just 120 minutes of sheer misery later, we were home. The day I had been dreading for weeks was over. And it was beautiful.



Somebody just knock me up so that I can have a reason to go buy this paper doll bedding from Dwell Studio. It's so cute it might almost be worth another 6 months of sleepless nights.
Soooooo adorable!


The Calm Before the Storm

Today was one of those days that made me stop. Right in the midst of it all: all the packing, all the planning, all the stress... and recognize my blessings. I have such a tendency to get bogged down. It's easy to see the negative and ten times more-difficult-than-it-should-be to see the positive. I'm the kind of person who sometimes needs a chainsaw in order to see the forrest through the trees. But today was different. I don't know if it was Evie's giggle when I tickled her, or the beautiful snow, or my husband letting me sleep in late. More than likely it was a combination of things, but days like these make me question why I ever thought I wasn't ready for this.
This is our last weekend in this house. Our first house. The place where we brought Evie home from the hospital. The place where she lost her umbilical chord on my shirt. Everything is being put into boxes and there is a looming, empty space on the walls... and while I am thankful to be taking this giant step forward in our business/family/lives... those empty spaces are just so sad to look at. So I keep telling myself that it will all be worth it; reminding myself of the end goal: a life surrounded by grandparents and cousins (and fried food and So So Def signs). What wouldn't be worth that?


Eight MONTHS...one week and one day

Evie turned eight months old on last Tuesday. This has been a HUGE month for her. We lowered her mattress. The same mattress that we unwrapped and put in her brand new cribjust nine short months ago. The same mattress that we thought we would never have to lower because our baby; our little, tiny, yet-to-be-born baby, would never be that big. And now every morning when I go in at 7:00 to get her out of bed she is standing up and smiling like: "Look how big I am with my super-low lowered mattress". And the milestones! She has been blowing through those suckers. There are now giant craters in the Earth where Evie's milestones used to be. Feeding herself? Check. Crawling like a maniac? Check. Cruising around on our furniture? Check. Yelling at Bear when she wants him to play? Check check.
She is becoming quite a tough little cookie.
Also: she learned how to say "Da-da", and in a desperate attempt to teach her to say "Ma-ma" I try and work that word into my vocabulary as often as I can. I literally walk around all day going "Can you say "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma"?". But then that little Who-ha of a daughter of mine looks me DEAD IN THE EYES and says "Da-da". Sometimes I overreact and threaten her life, but apparently the words "I WILL END YOU" are hilarious in baby speak. She has said one other thing... yesterday she looked at me and said something that sounded distinctly like "egg head". So basically she loves me a whole lot. Obviously.


High Fructose Heaven

I know that I said I was going to blog about Evie turning 8 months old... and I will... but something so much more important than that happened today.
Ladies and gentlemen (I am saying that to be politically correct but, seriously, if any men read my blog I really want to know who you are. Show yourselves!!) allow me to introduce you to:
Basically, if I only had one day left to live I would take a giant, human sized cup, fill it with frozen yogurt and toppings, and swim in it for 24 hours (with my family of course... cause it's my last day to live and I like them almost as much as ice-cream).
David Beckham loved his, too. A couples of times he took his spoon and tried to steal bites of mine. So I stabbed him in the knee. No more soccer for him. Should'a thought twice before trying to touch my ice-cream.
Oh - and I have already had two conversations about poop in the past 24 hours; so it's pretty much shaping up to be the best vacation of my life.


Wednesday is the New Monday

Today has been a giant string of miniature disasters. Aside from Wednesdays being generally sucky because I have to be on campus from 9am - 9pm, Graham is sick, I slid down a snow embankment and ruined my new flats (I know, I shouldn't wear flats in the snow. Stop yelling at me!), I forgot my wallet at home (and had to get my sick husband to drive to campus and bring it to me) and I am still here. In class. Blogging. That's almost the same as listening and learning. Right?
But none of that matters friends. Know why? KNOW WHY!?! Because tomorrow I will be hopping on a big, steel bird and flying out to sunny California. Because - have you SEEN this commercial?

So. I'm going to california because David Beckham wants to play soccer with me.
In addition to the whole "David Beckham clearly wants me and is using soccer as a ruse" thing, I am going to visit one of my favorite people on the planet: Miss Catherine Herzog. She is so beautiful it's disgusting. I can barely like her because of it. Despite the nauseating attractiveness, however, I am going to go spend some time with her. I haven't seen her since Evie was born. I haven't told the story about how she was there for those first two weeks... but let's just say that I am beyond lucky to have her as a friend. Beyond. Lucky.
I also get to visit my niece: Sophalinaloafa. That is the name on her birth certificate. At least her birth certificate that exists inside my head.
All this to say that there probably won't be much posting this weekend... but I will catch everyone up when I get back with a post that will inevitably start "HA HA, SUCKAS, I wore hawaiian shirts all weekend while you were all stuck in the cold... with runny noses!"
Tomorrow I'll post about how I have an EIGHT MONTH OLD. And, while we are on the subject: WHAT THA WHAT?!?


Rollin, Rollin', Rollin'

After years (literally: eight BILLION years) of living far away from our families THE SCOBEYS ARE MOVING BACK TO ATLANTA. I’ll pause and let you all take out your party poppers and champagne. I know I am.

And?! AND!!!! We are transitioning from Graham Scobey Photography to Scobey Photography. Know why?!?!? KNOW WHY??? Because we are going into business together, people! God help that husband of mine.

You see, over the past year or so I have begun to dabble more and more in photography… and I absolutely love it. To the point that, when this semester began I started throwing temper tantrums at random and inconvenient times. At the grocery store: “I DON’T WANNA GO BACK TO SCHOOL. I WANNA HAVE A FUN JOB LIKE YOU!!”. At church (we actually aren’t very good at going to church, so I'll state that upfront; for transparency’s sake): “NOOOOOOOOO. GOD DOESN’T LOVE ME IF I HAVE TO STAY IN SCHOOL THIS WHOLE SEMESTER. NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”. In the car by myself: *sniff sniff…tear* (because yelling to myself would be a complete and total waste of breath – breath I must save for yelling at my dog).

So there it is! Half of you are probably like: “Awesome!” And the other half of you are like: “Your husbands a photographer?” to which I scream “DON’T YOU KNOW ME AT ALL?!” And the other half of you are like “Man, she’s bad at math”.

So, having reached the conclusion that this was the perfect time to make a change (or seven), we put out house on the market. And then? TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER? It sold. For the win. Here's where I do the running man and start singing "Ain't nothing gonna break my stride... bad economy won't hold me down... oh no! We got to keep on moooovin'!"

Yes, I can do the running man and type at the same time. I gotz skillz.

So we are moving out of our house, which is, truth be told, pretty bitter-sweet for me: it's our first house together, it is where we brought Evie home from the hospital and it will always hold a very special place in our hearts. But there will be a new house and new firsts... and that house will become a home just like this one did.

Please send good thoughts our way so that we don't strangle each other or, worse, hold one another hostage with packing materials. I don't handle stress well. Let's just leave it at that.


Diaper Rash, A Literal Pain in the Butt

Remember that time I was all: "Swoooooon. Life is perfect. Life is awesome. Look! Over there! A unicorn just jumped over the most beautiful rainbow and now she is bringing me a winning lottery ticket!"
Well, if nothing else, parenthood is ever changing. And that unicorn? She just turned into a big, nasty, yeasty infection. White and red puss filled vestibules. On my child's hind parts. (Now that I think about it, this whole thing is probably exacerbated by the fact that Evie thinks it's cool to poop SIX TIMES A DAY. So Evie, if you're reading this: just stop that... and the agony will disappear) And, while none of this is particularly glorious to me, the poor baby is in a lot of pain.
Don't worry. I've been overmedicating her. It's any good mother's duty. And no, I am not interested in switching her to cloth diapers. I have already been told by several thousand and umpteen people that they are better for the environment! better for the baby! better for the budget! Well, I refuse to feel guilty about embracing some of life's little conveniences like, ya know, NOT having to wash crap out of a piece of cotton. And did you read that part where Evie poops SIX TIMES A DAY. Yeeeah.
So I'm opting for the easy way out: more medication. And you can say what you will about drug companies.... but those people are magical magic-making magicians! Nystatin is my new BFF. Right after I finish this post we are going to run upstairs, eat bonbons and watch Keeping Up with the Kardashians.
Why? Because in LESS THAN 12 HOURS it can turn an anguished, screaming child into this:

Nystatin, will you be my Valentine? Oh, and her socks in this video? Those socks are further proof that Ev is a genetic clone of her father. I really wish I had a picture to show you how inappropriately high he wears socks. With shorts.
(I'm gonna find a picture)
That big announcement: It's close. Really close. Like a few days away. I know, I said that like two weeks ago... but just keep yo' panties (or whatever you wear/ don't wear/ only wear on special occasions) on!


Heart Explosions: A minor cardiovascular inconvenience.

In the past two months, Evie has gone from rocking on her knees to crawling to crawling fast to pulling up to cruising. When I tell people that she has stumbled upon mobility the most common reaction is "Ohhh, you're in trouble". And I am . I really, really am.
But not in the way they meant it. Not because she is getting into things and is increasingly difficult to keep up with. I am in trouble because, every single night I go to sleep certain that I could not love her more. every. single. night. And every single morning I wake up and find that I do, in fact, love her more. And this is very dangerous to my health because one day soon my heart is going to grow so big that it starts poking out through my orifices... and if you have ever seen a human heart you know that this WILL NOT BE PRETTY. And... well, I'll probably die.
And suddenly my squishy, one-hundred-percent-dependent-on-me little baby is all "No, MOTHER, I do not have time to cuddle today. There is a job opening down at the United Nations and there is world hunger to be solved! Dear God, woman, STOP CRYING!"
I am utterly confused as to when life started going by so quickly. I mean, I know that it's always gone by fast; as in: I'm-So-Glad-That-Eighteen-Year-Awkward-Phase-Went-By-Fast, fast. But this, this is just absurd.
And now she WAVES? And is 95% of the way to being able to play PATTY-CAKES?! Someone... just cut all of my knuckles open with the edges of an Encyclopedia Britannica. That would be less painful than this.

And to make matters worse: my uterus (which is the trickiest of all the lady organs) is trying daily to convince me that I miss the babies. And that I want another one. So the logical side of me is trying my damnedest to convince my uterus that, no, you don't want another baby in there. It will stretch you. And then make you CONTRACT. And then they'll have to CUT YOU OPEN again. That doesn't sound like fun, does it? But my uterus is the captain of the Uterine Debate Team... so I think having it removed may be my only choice.


Groundhog Day Giveaway

Well, Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow this morning; graciously granting us six more weeks of winter (let's be honest though... we'll probably have another three months of winter in Connecticut).

So, to brighten the mood of all you moms/moms-to-be/friends of moms out there, check out this $50 giveaway on LA Stylist Mom. Jillybean Green has all of the uniqueness of a high end baby boutique, but the prices are great.

Oh, and can we please talk about how we went out to eat with Evie THREE times last week and not once did she have a melt down?!? It's like 7 months happened and all of a sudden we feel like what I always imagined a family would feel like. It's magical. Now I just need those doctor people to figure out a way to make it so that I can BIRTH a seven month old. Then, my friends, we'd be in business.

Can we also talk about how freakin' excited I am for this show because, well, I fully expect to be one of those s0-embarrassing-my-life-is-over kind of moms... and not even because I want to be... I just know myself well enough to know that there will be times I am unable to resist doing the robot in the carpool lane. So sue me.


Some Hump-Day Sunshine

I DEFY you to listen to this song without smiling.


Lighting and Other Six-Headed Monsters

Last week I spent Tuesday (the day before I came down with the impukingsomuchiwannadie illness) at City Hall in Hartford. I had not been hauled in by the law-man. I was learning about lighting. And, y'all, lighting scares the pants off of me.

It's one of those things that I would rather not bother with. If I just ignore it... it will gooooo away. I will only take pictures in the day time. No problem. Except that sometimes (and this is just between you and me) people get married at night. I know. Who are these crazies?!

So Carla took some of us Ten Eyckies (this is what I have dubbed her workshop
pupils/groupies) and put us through the lighing wringer. I mean, she was really nice at first. But then there was yelling. And TIME TRIALS. The brutality.

But it was amazing. And I learned so much. I think I may be brave enough to take a shot or two at night. Or at least heavy dusk.

Here are some of my favorite images from the day.

Krystal and Paul from StudioFoto were our models for the day and, well, let's just say they were oooozing the sex. It would have been really uncomfortable if I weren't TOTALLY INTO IT!

And my absolute favorite.
Check out Bruce, Anna, Sandra, Jesse and Greg's images on their blogs.

Thanks Carla, for helping us defeat the six-headed monster!


The Dry Heave is Not a New Dance Move

You know those questions that you don't ask because you don't want to know the answer?
I had one of those on Wednesday.

I was so desperate, in fact, not to know the answer that I carried the question around with me from 6:30am until 3:30pm.

It was the first day of school, and whereas I'm usually all "woohoo! yippie!", I was more like "I WISH FOR DEATH. AND SLEDGEHAMMERS."

I did not want the answer mostly because I knew what the answer would be.

Q: Why does my head feel like a rhino it sitting on top of it?
Q: Why am I expelling big, bloody, phlegm people from my mouth?
Q: Why am I lurching into the toilet between classes?

A: Because, my friend, you, after 19 consecutive happy-go-lucky first days of school filled with rainbows and butterflies and pink pony pee, have the flu.

**yes, Evie is vaccinated; no, obviously I was not. let the finger-pointing and name calling ensue**

So I am drinking Nyquil in such copious amounts that its legality is questionable. But it makes me feel so good...and it turns my dizzies from the imma-gonna-vomit-on-your-face kind to the feels-like-im-jumping-on-the-bed-but-im-not kind. And that is always a good thing. Real good.


From a True Fashion Authority

I have never done a fashion post before. And with good reason; I have zero credibility.
I mean, I used to. I worked in fashion when we lived in LA, and I was a glorious size two. Now, however, I'm a size two + two and I live my entire life in sweats and t-shirts (and the occasional baseball cap depending on how long it's been since I showered).

Anyways. My vote for best dressed of the evening is, hands down, Toni Collette. If I were famous (which I have once-in-a-while dreamed of being) and able to attend the golden globes I would wear something just like that because, in my estimation, if it isn't fairy-tale-frilly or dazzle-me-shiny then you have just wasted a perfectly good once in a lifetime opportunity.

The lady holding her umbrella is looking pretty snazzy, too. Oh to be so rich that the person keeping RAIN OFF OF YOU has a Chanel purse...


A Case of the Funnies

On Tuesday Graham and I drove to Boston to see Eddie Izzard (because, when you have a baby, you only get one night out every solar eclipse cycle and, when you get that night out, you will drive almost two hours to do what it is you want to do because IT IS THAT IMPORTANT!).

This guy is hilarious. Seriously hilarious. And totally irreverent. And smart; which just takes his irreverence to the next (informed and awesome) level. Oh, and he wears a dress (sometimes) and Graham and I are completely agreed on his immense attractiveness (allthetime).

If you ever have the chance to see him perform... and are not easily offended...I really recommend that you go.

He is officially on my list. Right along with Taye Diggs, Gerry Ghionis, Taye Diggs, Hugh Jackman, Taye Diggs, Matthew Morrison, Jonathan Taylor Thomas and Taye Diggs. I guess I have a thing for men who can sing. Good thing I married one.

Don't worry. Graham has a list too; which, oddly enough, doesn't vary one iota from mine.

Just kidding. Brad Pitt is on his.


Zero to Sixty

Listen here, little lady: I am not even ready for you to be eating solids, let alone feeding yourself.

Put. Down. The. Spoon.

Holy moly this has flown by. Someone find the pause button please.

The one person who actually likes how quickly Evie is growing is Bear. She is a lot more fun and interesting to him now that she can crawl. Ev likes him a little bit, too.

(you may want to turn down your volume - he barks)

Some big news coming up on the blog in the next couple of weeks; just a few more details to work out before we can make the official announcement!


First Week Away

Our first day of 2010 began in tears. My tears. As I watched Graham pack the Jeep, knowing that we would be driving back to Connecticut without our little girl. We've been at a photography conference (which, by the by, rocked my face right off my head) so Evie is staying at Camp Deanie - my mom's house - for a few more days and then they're flying up on the 8th.

So there were tears; lots of tears. And just when I would think I had finally pulled it together I would look up; and there would be the cheeks. And the tears would recommence. Because, well, what if those cheeks change while I'm away?! What is those cheeks start crawling?!?

There were moments when I didn't know if I'd be able to bring myself to leave. But then I did. I got in the car. We drove away. And I waited. And waited. But more tears didn't come. Instead, my internal dialogue was something like:
"Yaaahhhhoooooooooooiiieeee, Yiiiipppppppiiieeeeee!"

I feel like I am in adult nirvana: on vacation with no child and no work. Granted, I cannot wait for her to come back so that I can squeeze that 67th percentile head of hers... but I am also enjoying these last few nights of quiet.

And if you think that my less-than-sad reaction makes me a bad mom; well, get ready for this: I fed Evie grilled cheese sandwiches all last week. And she LOVED them. HAH!

I mean, if it takes sandwiches to get this peanut the gain some weight well... then... it's sandwiches she'll get!