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.

Evie,

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!**

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.

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.

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.

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!

Dear 2009,

Whew! Where do I even begin with this? You have been a year of lessons; lessons learned... most of them learned while I was kicking and screaming; bottom lip pressed firmly out into a big, fat pout. It has been a really tough year. Like; didn't-know-if-I-would-make-it-through-with-my-head-still-attached tough.... I know that it has been for a lot of people.

But, oddly enough, I would like to thank you, 2009. I would like to thank you for the lessons learned. I have learned how to be a mother - this lesson has been the most difficult of my life (by far) as it is backbreaking, really, for an entirely selfish person to learn how to be.... well... not. Learning how to be a mother implies learning all sorts of other things; like changing a diaper with one hand, for example.

I have learned how to be a dreamer - which is directly opposed to the feet-on-the-ground-make-others-happy person I have always been. And let me tell you, allowing your passion to take flight is both exhausting and wonderful. Oh, and totally terrifying. But I am in this wonderful place right now, where I know that anything is possible. Actually possible.

So thank you, 2009. I am so looking forward to 2010. In a different way than I have ever looked forward to a New Year. Because I am a better person than I was last year and, with the help of my friends and family, I am certain to be even better yet. I. Just. Cannot. Wait. So, I will be bringing in the new year in a easy, low-key way: sitting on my parents' couch watching a rented movie and sipping champagne in my sweats. There is nowhere I would rather be.

Lovingly and Optimistically,

Ashley N. Scobey

P.S. - Look, 2009, at what we made!! How great are we?!?

* photo by the amazing Carla TenEyck *

The Club I Least Wanted to be Part of

This past Sunday we loaded up the Scobey Clan and spent the day at Carla's for a family portrait mega event with all of the other peeps from the studio. It was so much fun. And Evie, in typical Evie fashion, was a trooooo-per. She was incredibly patient and smiley. Especially considering that she only took a 20 minute nap the entire, 6 hour day.

I guess that shouldn't really surprise me. She is a really happy, good-natured baby. But this one time, when Evie was about 12 weeks, I drank caffeine and by the time it got to Evie it had apparently morphed into rocket fuel and she was all schooooooooom, kazoooooooommmmm, wablammmmmoooooo for the next 12 hours.

I spent the majority of that day crying. It was enough to scar me for life.

It is also the reason I am still a little shocked when Evie is her typical, awesome self.

At the end of the day we all sat down and watched a slide-show of the images: they were unreal. It got me all jazzed up and made me want to take more pictures.

So on Tuesday I got Evie all dressed up, put her in a little tutu, and we had a little mini portrait sesh of our own.

Super cute, yeah? Mommy-daughter bonding time, right? Except that exactly .45 seconds after this photo was taken I look down at my camera to check my exposure and Evie rolls off the chair. Does a full 360 degree flip in the air. Lands smack on her big 90th-percentile-head. On the hardwood. And starts screaming.

Yeah. I am officially one of those moms who drops their children on those-things-that-HOUSE-THEIR-BRAINS.

I felt/feel awful about it. Like, seriously terrible. So much so that even after Evie had stopped crying I kept the good ole' Tear Train going for a solid hour.

If life were a video game I would have had little "Mom-guilt + 2,000" signs popping out of my head for the next four days. My mom assures me that every parent has accidently hurt their child in some way, but that doesn't really make me feel better about it.

What have you done that has caused the most self-inflicted-guilt?

Merry Scandalistmas

whoooaaaaa now... break me offa piece of THAT!

Merry Christmas from The Scobeys

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?)

CIO

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.*

Happy Fall Ya'll

Now that we have gotten past the snow (oh yeah, uh huh, it SNOWS here in October...) the air is perfectly crisp and the leaves are perfectly vivid. Fall in New England is, by far, the only thing that redeems it from the harsh winters. It is beautiful; except that "beautiful" does not even begin to describe it.

Driving down the roads right now, you find yourself completely enveloped in what can only be described as the most awesome display of God's ability to paint.

So this past weekend we bundled up the little one, threw on our scarves and went for a hike.

She has really started to enjoy being put in a carrier. Thank GOD, because I was not too keen on living the rest of my life with my arms randomly falling out of their sockets in an effort to rebel against me for those three years that Evie would not let me put her down.

Add to that the fact that going on hikes is one of our favorite past times as a couple and, well, it's just really convenient that little bit likes it, too. I hope all of you out there in the blogosphere are enjoying the change of seasons as much as we are.

*pictures by the ever-talented Graham Scobey - my miniature beefcake of a man*

Tumbleweed

I have this really bad habit of getting antsy when I have lived in one place for more than...oh...two years. Antsy like I have little creatures who normally live in a hill marching around in my underpinnings.

In fact, we move around so much that we have our own moving crew. And our own T-SHIRTS...and everyone knows that having your own shirts makes you legit. For reals.


And so I talk about it. And talk and talk and tallllllk. And plan. And Graham mostly looks at me like: girl's crazy. And then I talk some more.

We have lived in Connecticut for a little over a year now...so (although we still have another solid two years here) I am all bored with it and ready to go someplace new. Here are my top choices:

Los Angeles: *THUD* That was the sound of my mom hitting the ground somewhere in the Metro Atlanta area from the coronary that she had when she read that. But, I mean, Southern California is just so beautiful...and sunny...and beachy -- all of the things that I love the most. And my favorite place on the planet, Pepperdine, is there. And, well, if I ever got the opportunity to teach there it would just make me jump so high that I would be the first official Grad Student to ever orbit the earth without a space-suit.

Nashville: I lived in Nashville for a few years and it has this great balance of city and country. Plus it has the Puffy Muffin. And Baja Burrito. And Mazatlans. Mostly I would want to move there for the food. Obviously.

New York City: Everyone likes a happy spouse. And moving to Manhattan would make my husband the happiest human being on the planet. ON. THE. PLANET. Plus I have always wanted to live in a truly, truly walkable city. And the take-out options! Geeze-Louise!

Atlanta: There will always be a pretty hefty chunk of my heart traveling, in a little heart-shaped-vehicle, up and down 400 and around 285; because that is just how much I love this city. It is where I grew up and where all of my very favorite people live.

Where would you live if you could move anywhere?

October Tenth

Today is an anniversary of sorts.

Exactly one year ago: Sunday, October 10th, 2008, there was wailing and gnashing of teeth. There was profuse eating of mass quantities and varieties of chocolate. There were boxes upon boxes upon boxes of tissues being used. There were lighthearted movies about childbirth being watched.

Exactly one year ago today there were seven (onetwothreefourfivesixSEVEN) pregnancy tests lined up on my bathroom counter. And one year ago today I was scouring the internet to find if there had ever been a case of seven false positives.

There had not.

It boggles my mind how much life can change in a year.

Here I am, governer of Alaska, hoping against all hope that no-one noticed the five pounds I had already gained.

Three 1/2 months along over Christmas break. We didn't know it at the time but Evie's cousin, Sophi, was already on her way, too.

About seven days late: a very pregnant, very anxious Ashley. I wish I would have listened to the dozens of people who told me to enjoy those last few weeks as a family of two (sorry, Bear: a family of three).

And here is the best surprise I have ever gotten; just hours old.

And now, FOUR months after her birth, we are remembering the day we found out we would be having a baby. Life has never been so full.

Anger Management

It may be the fact that I have a baby now... and it might be just one more thing that I can blame on my raging hormones... but I find myself, on a very regular basis, wanting to kill my dog. Like, MURDER-him-with-my-bare-hands kill him. Maybe this makes me a horrible person. It just never fails that the barking and the loud, growl-inducing-humping happen right when Evie has gone to sleep. RIGHT when I was GOING to take a nap. And, God, there are only so many times that you can pick poop up off of the floor with a smile on your face after you had just let him out for the sole purpose of deficating IN THE YARD!

But I haven't killed him yet. When the rage threatens to overtake me I look back at this picture: taken a couple of days after I brought Bearsy home (completely against my husband's wishes)...that was exactly three years ago. Life has a way of moving much too quickly, but still passing very slow. The first person to be able to explain this phenomena will, no doubt, win a Nobel Peace Prize.


But this picture, it does the trick. It has saved Bear's life on a number of occasions.

DOUBT

Doubt is a very powerful thing. It can be good: I firmly believe that no harm can come from a willingness to question things. On the contrary; one of the greatest dangers in life is just going along; refusing to let yourself challenge what you know.

But doubt can also be harmful. Especially when you make a habit of doubting yourself.

I have always been a glass-half-empty kind of person. Whenever I do things that are difficult, there are these voices in my head whispering: "you're not good enough", "you cannot possibly go that far -- do that much"...

Since Evie, that's changed. I mean, since Evie everything has changed: but THIS, this I never thought would change. I have been battling self doubt my whole life. There is only one possible explanation for this. Evie is my Horcrux. When I had her, my soul split... and now there is nothing I cannot do.

Something more powerful than doubt: being a mother.

And the leaves are changing which means that I get to drive to school through fiery tunnels and it is beautiful and all is right in the world.

Here is little Miss playing airplane on Mommy's legs during a picnic on Friday.

I know what you are all thinking: "That is not Evie. That is GRAHAM. It has to be Graham." and although I have this very same thought at least seventeen times in any given day: no, it is not Graham, it is my baby daughter. I know this because Graham is much too big to play airplane on my legs.

Long Overdue

In August we went to Atlanta and, besides the part where I had to milk myself, it was an awesome trip. Evie got to meet all of the amazing Southern Folks who love her so very much. And suffice it to say that there are a LOT of them. So we did what any good Georgian Family (albeit a transplanted one) would do: ate a lot of food and traveled around handing out free hugs everywhere we went.

I'm just gonna say it: Southerners do it better. And I don't just mean cooking, decorating, and partying. I mean they are better at being humans. (Oh, wait, what's that sound I just heard? The tapping noise of my non-southern readers clicking UN-FOLLOW). But really, once you dip below the Mason Dixon Line it's hard not to compare everywhere else you go to That Place where the people are just soooo naice (that's "nice" in Georgia-speak)... and I'm not gonna lie: there is a piece of me that dies every time I think about the little, twangy accent that Evie could have had.

And the love. Ohhhh the looooove. There were people who we saw on this visit who have loved us our entire lives, so to see them snuggling on Evie just made my heart look like a scene straight out of Disney's Fantasia.

Three cheers for Grandpa. Hip-Hip, Horray!

Snuggling with the Meemers...who drove all the way from Mississippi to hold Ms. Evie.

And the man who has, on more than one occasion, been single-handedly responsible for helping me maintain my sanity.

And the man who has, on more than one occasion, been single-handedly responsible for keeping Graham's mother from murdering him.

As you can see, the trip was a success...and we cannot wait to take Evie back to the ATL in November so that she can meet her new cousin, Sophi.

I will leave you with some sweet, sweet second cousin love.

**PHOTOS TAKEN BY THE UBER-TALENTED GRAHAM SCOBEY, DUH**

Boogie Nights (and mornings... and days...)

Evie has her first cold... and its a doozie. Now, before you go feeling all sorry for me and sending me chocolate (my favorite is hazelnut flavored) and flowers (gerber daisies, please) I should admit to you that there is a bright side to the situation. Remember back when I admitted my nose picking habit? Well, turns out that the joy I get from digging for my own gold TOTALLY translates to picking my kid's nose, too.

It's like a game: the deeper they are in there, the more points you get... plus special bonus awards for size and color. Give me one of those squeezy-bulbs over a video controller any day, thank you.

Little-bit is no child of mine. I mean, she looooovves her baths. She just might be the cleanest newborn on the planet (side note: that may be the last time I get to refer to her as a "newborn" on the blog... since, as of Wednesday, my big THREE-MONTH-OLD will officially be considered a full blown infant. Just rip my heart out and put it through a meat-grinder, why don't you?! This growing-up-too-fast crap is way hard.)

There she is, that little Benedict Arnold... just lovin' that bath. I will do my best to change that. I can just see Evie and me in ten years, sitting on the couch all sweaty from a family run (we will not take a shower for at least 48 hours afterward) picking our noses and letting the dog lick our faces. Ahh... bliss.