Whoopity Doo!

** this entire post is meant to be read in a high-pitched, squealy voice of pure excitement **

Dudes... do you know what today is? No. You don't. Allow me to enlighten you. This, my friends, is the first day of school. The NINETEENTH consecutive first day of school that I have ever had (excluding pre-school... which I also went to). Now... you might read this and, at first glance, think that I am complaining... but let me just assure you right now that I am NOT.

There is a reason that I have been in school for my entire life. A reason that I will most likely remain in some academic setting for the remainder of my life. I. LOVE. SCHOOL. (she says as she pushes her taped together glasses further up her nose and snorts). But really... I get those first-day-of-school-jitters like a kid on Christmas morning. It's weird, but it never fails. This is not to say that I always like school (there are days that it is like being forced to eat the last few Oreos in the box because YOU started it, YOU have to finish it... even if it hurts. Even if it kills you.) But I do always love the first day.

And now it is even better... because I get paid to be there. It's as though someone was so dazzled by my past efforts at school and learning that they said: "You want to learn more? Here, have some MONEY TO GO WITH THAT."

And I said "Yes, please" and "Thank You"... because my mother taught me manners.

See how excited I am?!

Also, Generation Y called and threatened to vote me off the island if I didn't join Twitter. So I did. Follow me @ThreeScobeys!

(do you still have your high-pitched, squealy voice on? really?)

Mom Moment

If you are anything like my husband (who, even though the puke was on ME, started gagging uncontrollably at the sight of it... and may I take this moment to say "Ugh...... men!") than I probably just lost half of my readership. A small price to pay for being able to post a picture of VOMIT on the INTERNET, if you ask me.

Two Month Checkup

My child; my little, tiny, six-pound-peanut of a newborn is ten weeks old today... and I am racking my brain trying to figure out who is sitting on the fast-forward button of my life's remote. And how can I get them to stop?

Evie's two-month checkup was yesterday. I have never wanted to physically harm someone so much as I did when that nurse (who I am sure is an otherwise completely pleasant human-being) plunged three needles into my angel's leg. I'll be honest: I cried significantly more than Evie did. She is the bravest little girl in the whole world... which just reminds me, yet again, of how BIG she is getting.

When she came home from the hospital, Evie was 6 pounds... now she is 10 (which puts here in the 28th percentile for weight). She has slept completely through the night for the past five nights in a row, for which my pediatrician tells me I should be counting my lucky stars. Every night and twice on Sundays. I totally am.

Annnnd I am headed back to work today. Completely bitter-sweet because, on the one hand, I am really excited about having an excuse to shower and get dressed and get out of the house to talk to people who can say more than "coo" and "urgggle" (even though those are the sweetest words I have ever heard). On the other hand, though, what if I miss something?!? I mean... not to over-exaggerate here, but if I am not there for the first time she rolls over or sits up by herself the world will completely implode on itself... and that will be absolutely no good for the environment.

Can you believe how much she has changed?!

Evie on the way home from the hospital. 6 pounds, 19 inches long.

Evie on her 10-week-birthday. 10 pounds, 22 inches long.

Eternal Sunshine of the Mommy's Mind

I am going to get a little sentimental on you guys for a minute. I know, I know... not my typical M.O....so just grin and bear it this once.

Maybe it's the fact that Evie is about to be in the double-digits (10 weeks!) or the fact that her newborn clothes are fitting tighter and tighter everyday... but I am starting to realize how much I am going to miss these days... and how quickly they are passing me by.

I now completely understand what people mean when they say you "don't remember" the baby blues... and why they don't talk about it.

It is just a shadow. Such a small and utterly

insignificant part of the journey. It's like one day it rains, but all of the days for the rest of your life are so full of sunshine... and the sunshine is so warm, bright and beautiful. Are you going to mope around and talk about that one time it rained? No. You're going to sit and enjoy the sunshine... taking comfort in the fact that it is never going away.

I don't remember what it felt like not to know her; not to wake up every morning to her mile-wide smiles... but I can't imagine it felt anywhere near as good as this.

There's More Than One Way to Milk a Cow

As any of you who have ever had the pleasure of pumping breast-milk know, it is a process that requires tools. I mean more tools than a Home Depot. More tools than a Home Depot that just won a high-stakes-poker-game with a Lowe's.

There's the actual pump...then you need what I like to call the trumpets...and the bottles to attach to the trumpets...and tops for the bottles. Our trip to Alabama last week was going to be more than a 3-bottle trip (When you have a baby, hours start to lose their meaning. Time starts being gauged in terms of how many bottles or feedings your baby will require while you are away.) so we had to take the pump. While we were at Mama Hazel's and everyone was taking pictures, I excused myself to go to the restroom and pump some milk. Except that when I got to the bathroom and rifled through my bag I realized...no, it couldn't be...I am not that stupid. Oh yes. I am.

I forgot the trumpets.

No worries, I tell myself, breast-pumps have only been around about 60 years...so how did people do this before then? Well, they breast-fed. The only problem there is that, for the past week, whenever Evie so much as sees my boob she screams bloody murder (it does WONDERS for my self esteem).

So I channel my inner cave woman and I express. By. Hand.

If someone had told me ten years ago that on one humid, lowly day in August of 2009 I'd be hunched over a toilet in a nursing home bathroom, giving myself the purple-nurple of the century, I probably would have choked to death on my own laugh. Four ounces later and I have found success. My child will not starve today! And let me tell you, I haven't had a hand cramp like that since the verbal portion of the SAT.

An August Wedding

A few weekends ago I had the opportunity to second-shoot a really special wedding. Back in April Graham and I had an Engagement Shoot with Jen and Rich...and we had SO much fun getting to know them...which just made shooting their beautiful wedding that much more enjoyable.

These two are absolutely amazing: kind, generous, super hospitable, and over-the-moon-in-love with one another. Pretty much one of the world's cutest couples. They got married at A Villa Louisa in Bolton on literally the prettiest day of the summer.

Jen was just glowing the whole time she was getting ready

The guys all had shades on and looked super cool

And there was a tractor...which made for two very excited photographers and a bunch of cool pictures. This is one of the ring shots I got with the front of it.

Introducing for the first time...Mr. and Mrs. Downing!!!

Having a moment after the ceremony...I told you they were over-the-moon-in-love!

I love this picture of Jen's daughter, Cassidy (who looks JUST like her gorgeous mother).

Takin' me back to my roots with some line dancing. Where DID you come from, Cotton-eyed-Joe?

Congratulations, Jen and Rich! You two deserve all the happiness that life has to offer.

Talkin' Bout 5 Generations...

Sorry for the lack of posting this week. We have been in Atlanta, GA since last Sunday visiting friends and family. It has been awesome to see so many people (many of whom watched Graham and me grow up) love on my little girl. There is no better feeling in the universe than to know that your baby is cared about.

On Wednesday Graham's dad flew us over to Scottsboro, Alabama to see Evie's only Great-GREAT-grandmother...her name is Mama Hazel and she is 94 years old. The pictures we got from that trip are so special, and they will be treasured for years and years to come.


Here is a picture of all FIVE generations of the Loyd family!


Evie did really well on David's small plane...she actually did better in the Cessna than she did on the big airplane. Perhaps it was because she got to wear these awesome headphones. It looks like she is going to be an accessories-kind-of-gal...just like her mama.