For meeeeee?

I am staying at my parents house for a few days, and came across these pictures from our family trip to the Grand Canyon. I think it was the summer before my senior year of high school. Anyway, this squirrel was one friendly critter!

On a good day...

Someone wakes up and everyone else is okay with that.  

Mommy gets coffee.  Or chocolate milk.

Daytime feedings are predictable, occurring somewhere around 9 am, 12 pm, 3 pm and 6 pm.  And mommy remembers to administer Lincoln's acid reflux meds during 3 of those feedings.  

Lincoln is allowed plenty of time to lie on a blanket, vigorously throw his limbs about and bat at his toys.  

We see Liz.

Neither one of us needs to change our clothing due to spit up or poop disasters.

We go on one single outing.  Said single outing includes more walking than driving.  Also includes something fun for Lincoln, such as a swarm of little kids to stare unabashedly at, a large tank full of brightly colored, darting fish, a place to sit and read books, and/or trees filled with loud birds.  

Grandma or Grandpa calls.  

Mommy takes the time to do her hair and doesn't feel guilty about it.

While driving in the car, mommy remembers that a baby with developing brain cells is in the back seat, and adjusts her music choices accordingly.  

At some point, a candle is lit.

We read books on the floor.  

Someone pays mommy a compliment about her baby.  Or a small child tugs on her parent's shirt, points and says, "Look at the baby!"  

Lincoln laughs.

Daddy sends a couple texts throughout the day.  And calls during his lunch break.    

Lincoln takes two substantial naps.  At least one in the swing.  

Mommy remembers to talk.  "Now we are putting your pants on!"  "This rattle is orange."  "Want to go for a ride in the white car?" 

Dishes are done, laundry is folded and roomba does his thing.

When the man of the house comes home, he gets plenty of (fussy-free) time to play with his son.  

We remember to say a blessing over dinner.

Mommy and daddy are nice to each other while baby screams.

Then mommy tries to switch gears and be a wife.  Until daddy burps and gets a spit up cloth shoved in his face.

Never to forget

I love taking little video clips with my pink camera.  They are glimpses of our life that we can replay as time goes by.  

"See Linc?  That's how you sneezed when you were a baby!"  

"Awwwww!  Did you hear that?  That was you farting!"  

"Yeah.... mommy was weird then too."

"Look at the way he's holding you!  Your daddy loved you from day one."

"Of course we filmed 7 minutes of nothing but your little face staring into the camera.  You'll understand when you help to create a human being and then meet him for the first time!"

Easter Pictures

My aunt Sheila and cousins Lucas and Elena stayed at my mom's house for Easter.  They were visiting for a week from California.  We took tons of pictures!  I hadn't seen them in years, so it was nice to catch up and to introduce them to my new little family.  

Here is my happy son:

Snack time!  Aunt Sheila munches on Easter candy, while Mom opts for sliced tomatoes.  In this respect, I don't take after mi madre.  I certainly wasn't wired with enough will power to eat vegetables when the house is full of chocolate...

I offer my little guy a mirror every now and then.  Just thought he might want to see what all the fuss is about.  

Little people draw big crowds.  Lucas, Evan and my mom hang out with Linc in my living room.

Here's me with my gorgeous cousin Elena!

This is one of the last pictures I took of my brother before he chopped off all his hair.  Now he's sporting a magnificent faux hawk

.  

And here we have Lincoln taking a keen interest in his grandma's cards while playing Apples to Apples.  

Still Apples to Apples-ing.  I guess Linc teamed up with both grandma and grandpa this time.

My husband and I, best feet forward.  

This lovely lady is my mother.  Pretty much the most beautiful woman out there.  

Ahhhh, yes.  This photo is included to demonstrate what I deal with on a daily basis.  Can you blame me for not taking up jogging while I'm still breastfeeding?  Lets just say that we're hoping for a downsizing at the milk factory someday very soon.  

My baby and his tunes.  It has recently occurred to me that we should provide him with something other than radio hip hop.  Enter Baby Einstein!

Ok, he's only 4 months old, so no-- he did not stand up at the edge of his crib all by himself.  He did stay put, however, when I placed him there.  I snapped this photo to commemorate Lincoln's first application of sunscreen.  

On our way to church on Easter Sunday.  

Here's the handsome fellow in his Easter overalls.  

Two very attractive individuals:

And last but not least, here's Lucas, Aunt Sheila and Lincoln again.  They're all bathed in the angelic glow of afternoon sun.  

I'm so glad that my relatives came to visit!  

Not so perfect

We had a few days of warm, sunny weather, and I loved it. But now it's back to gray skies and drizzles. I used to love overcast days. The clouds looked like a big, soft blanket hugging the world. Plus, everything looks prettier, somehow greener and more vivid, when the skies are gray. But now that I have a child, it's different. I am much more restricted in bad weather. What would have been fine for me is now possibly too inclement; you don't want your baby getting sick! Plus I have to carry a lot more stuff with me now, so when it's raining or snowing I have a lot more to cover and try to keep dry. But it's okay, summer is fast approaching. Soon enough I will be complaining of the heat. I like a cool 60s, low 70s. Anything above that, and I'm sweating like a pig and whining about it.

This summer I won't have a bikini body. I don't know why that's such a big deal. There's really only one circumstance in which I'll be swim-suiting it up (at Bear Lake with Tyler's family), and it's not like that's an appropriate occasion for an all-baring yellow polka dot bikini anyway. I've always been incredibly self conscious about my figure, always thinking I'm fat, but somehow after pregnancy, when I was actually at my heaviest, I no longer feel it to such an extent. It is the greatest relief to be able to touch my toes, tie my shoes, do lunges, roll over in bed, and put my makeup on without squishing myself against the bathroom counter for heaven's sake! And so even though I'm still recovering from it all, with remnants of love handles and a jiggly belly, saddlebags and all of the other typical girl problem areas, I feel pretty darn good about myself. Never take your mobility for granted! If you can jump, twist and walk, you are doing pretty good in my opinion. :-) I am grateful for this new forgiving frame of mind. Always thinking about how not-perfect you are is just a waste of time and energy.

I've been confronted by another imperfection in the last few days which has required my attention and ultimate acceptance. One of my earlier entries was devoted to my husband, and in it I asserted myself to be the perfect woman for Tyler. Well, ladies and gents, it's just not so. I was so sure that my even temper was the perfect treatment for his uncontrollable one. I was so sure that my remaining calm during his storm would help us to keep the relationship in tact. I was so sure that I was serving as a good example. But I have finally realized that this is not the case. Someone who yells right back would be better for him. That way there would be a mutual blowup and an end. But as it is, his temper explodes and there are no repercussions, other than my building up fear and resentment; I might be soothing the situation for the moment by remaining calm, but in the long run I'm just representing myself as weak. I'm pasting a big, red sign on my forehead that says, "Please deposit frustrations here. Thank you! Come again!" In a way, how can you blame him? Who really respects someone who appears to have no respect for herself? And yet... I don't know how to handle myself any other way. I'm not an angry person. I like to talk things through. I left the Air Force ROTC because I didn't like yelling and being yelled at.

So to hell with perfect, I say. The priority is making sure my baby is healthy and safe and I am healthy and safe. God is holding me responsible for it, as he does to everyone who is taking care of one of his children. I've proven to myself time and time again that I'm not perfect. But you know, I'm so glad that I'm not required to be.

Some days are Big days

Congratulations to my grandparents!  They have weathered 50 years of marriage.  I am proud, impressed, and hopeful that someday I will be in their shoes.  

And God be with Tyler, who is sitting somewhere in Draper, waiting to begin the gmat.  Please let him achieve the score he wants this time, so we can put it behind us, and more forward with business school applications.  

The Blue Chair

I'm feeling better today.  

Don't ask me how or why, but I'm one of those people whose state of mind is directly affected by my environment.  I can literally feel a weight lifted from my shoulders when I'm in a well lit, tastefully decorated room.  Something inside me smiles when there are pictures on the walls, clutter contained in baskets, and furniture that is pretty and clean.  It makes me high maintenance in a way.  I'm well aware that this bothersome quirk of mine is part of the reason we're living in a gorgeous, 3 bedroom 2 bath apartment, paying relatively outrageous rent.  We could be saving a lot of money if we lived somewhere a little older.  A little less nice.  I'm thankful to my husband, though, who understands me and found us a lovely place that, slowly but surely, has become my pride and joy.  

My favorite room is the nursery.  It feels like a safe place, and has from the moment I put my blue recliner in there.  This chair has been through a lot.  I bought it when I left my family's home.  It was my "comfy" piece in the dorm room.  Other kids went for the chic or hip, with half moon chairs or bean bags, but I knew I would want something a little more homey.  I was right.  My sweet roommate would sit in the chair and read Bible studies to me at night.  Our guy friends would crash there in lieu of the floor.  In every apartment since that dorm room, my comfortable little blue chair has provided a welcoming spot for myself and my guests.  It's incredible to me that now this nostalgic piece of furniture is the rocker in my own baby's nursery.  

Lincoln and I spend a few hours in his room every morning.  And I feed him to sleep there every night.  Here are some of the pictures we've taken in this lovely haven: