The Yankee and Peach, continued...

FUN WITH LETTERS

2012-02-22T22:16:00.000-05:00

Evie and I sat down to play with her alphabet blocks earlier tonight. After she informed me multiple times that "E" is for Evie ... and for Elmo... and for Elephant, we decided to spell out Abbott's name just to throw some variety in our all-about-the-E-spelling bee.

This was too good of a photo opportunity to pass up, and luckily the little man was in a happy and very giggly mood... so here are the results!

Not to be outdone by the 3-month old, his big sister requested her own photo shoot.... but in typical 2-year old fashion, she wouldn't stop talking, wiggling, being distracted, or making faces.

So, these pictures capture her personality perfectly!!

"It's MY name, Momma!"


"Smile, Evie!" "No." "Please? Pretty please?"

"Oh, okay!"

"See momma? It's MY name!"

FUTURE JAVELIN THROWER?

2012-02-19T20:57:00.000-05:00

Or maybe a long jumper? Or triple jumper? Heptathlon?

Either way, our little lady is willing to run down a runway.

Especially a runway made out of pink bubble wrap.

Pretty good form on the run-up so far...

Ahhh... Nope, she lost concentration and looked down at her feet.
Your eyes should be looking out towards the sector, little lady.

Going back for another round.

Really fast run-up this time...
here comes the speed demon!

Good form!
But don't look at Dadda!
(well, unless you plan on throwing the javelin at him.)

Dude, I gotta call my agent about this chick.

WHY I WEIGH 500 LBS....

2012-02-14T21:14:00.002-05:00

Because it's "Happy Valentine's Day!"

And I'm not 500 lbs. Not yet, at least. If I keep eating this way, I will be soon.

I went on a baking binge last night. "E-bie's Momma" signed up to bring cupcakes to Evie's Valentine's Day party at school.

Which meant I went overboard and made 24 red velvet and cream cheese icing cupcakes, PLUS an entire red velvet and cream cheese cake to bring into my office, AND 24 cupcake-sized rice krispie treats. Because... well, just because.

To say we have had a sugar high in our house in an understatement.

Oh, yeah. And with Dove chocolates.
Because all that sugar needed more sugar on top.

I'm very happy Valentine's Day only comes once a year.
But who are we kidding? I'd have one of these every day if possible.

The tower of confections.

Not the most polished icing writing I've ever done,
but I was playing with some new Wilson icing
tips to see what would happen.
I didn't hear my coworkers complain when I brought it in!

These were Evie's Valentine's to her classmates and family.
Yup, the idea was copied straight off of Pinterest. It was too good not to!!
The Valentine we actually gave to her classmates is in the upper right hand corner. The other pictures were just options that I thought were too good not to print, using captions that fit our little lady's personality.

Miss Priss on Valentine's Day morning.

Wearing her momma's pink bathrobe...
because, well just because she wanted to.

I'm off to crack open a bottle of the bubbly with the hubby...
because, well just because I want to.

Happy Valentine's Day, y'all!!!

ABBOTT'S CHEST

2012-02-12T09:30:00.005-05:00

Ahoy, matey!

I found a great bargain at Michael's craft store. A toy chest that typically retails for $50 was on the "As Is" rack for just $12. The top had been broken off and it had a few problems, but nothing that a few screws and a drill couldn't fix!

All fixed up and working properly.

I took some graphite paper and traced a monogram
on each end with a black permanent marker.
I thought it would look like I used a wood burning/etching tool.
A tool that I don't have and didn't want to buy.

I got some wood stain in Antique Walnut...
The new wood color is fine, but let's face it...
new wood doesn't exactly scream "old treasure chest."
It just screams "somebody put me together last week!"

I tested the color out on the inside first. I like it.
If you don't like it, well you can
just go walk the plank, you scurvy mongrel.

Yes! You can still see the monogram.

Instead of painting it a bright kid's color, I thought this could pass
for both a playtime pirate chest and still work for him as he gets older.

He could even take it to college and use it to store all his:

a. research papers when he finds the cure for cancer

b. love notes from all his girlfriends

c. sports gear when he gets that athletic scholarship

d. job offers from Fortune 500 companies

(Hint: b is a false statement. Your choices are a, c, or d.)

I think he likes it.

Yup, that's a happy little pirate dance.

A really happy pirate dance.

Ya must be wonderin', "Katie dear, why ye wastin' precious breath on syllables and letters what ne'er do ye no good? Me time's precious! Be so kind as to let me cast me eyes on more pictures of my future ship mate!"

(No, it's not Talk-Like-A-Pirate-Day. But it should be.)

So, here's a boatload of more Captain Abbott pictures:

He's a jolly little mate.

Argh!!!
(That's pirate speak for "hahaha")

All this laughing makes him need to go to the poop deck.

Yup, when the scurvy dog comes sniffin', it's time for a diaper change.

I found me a lass to change to me diaper!
The lass is wearin Mickey Mouse pajama pants
and not a stitch of make-up, but she'll do the job.

Now it's bedtime for all little pirates.

Going

Going....

GONE!
G'night mateys.

Full disclosure: I really only told you about making the treasure chest in order to have a reason to make a blog post with pirate talk. You're welcome.

HI HO.. HI HO... BACK TO WORK I GO

2012-02-09T23:11:00.008-05:00

Tomorrow marks the end of my second week of officially being back at work. It hasn't been bad, even though I had been dreading it with every fiber of my being, every cell in my body, every nucleus of my cells, every nucleolus of my nucleus... eh, you get the picture. Yup, I didn't want to go back.

The working part wasn't the problem, but the part where I was going to miss being home with my little people all the time... AND... oh yeah, that small problem with the littlest of my little people whose longest stretch of sleeping at night had been for three hours at most. There was no way I was going to be able to function at work with a kid that woke at 1 AM and got up every. two. hours. after that.

My mom is a liar.
She loved staying up and partying with me all night long.

Somewhere between his 10th and 11th week, it 'clicked' for my little man. He's now putting his big sister's night time sleep record to shame!! For the past two weeks, he has been sleeping from 7:30 or 8 PM at night until 6:30 or 7 in the morning. Boooo-yah!!

He must've had a big developmental spurt.

Or maybe he heard me ask his father, "Is it too late to take him back to the hospital and ask for a different kid?"

I was only kidding.

Kind of.

We have all survived getting on the 'mommy goes back to work' schedule... Evie goes to school full-time and Abbott goes part time right now. I actually take Abbott to the office with me 1-2 days per week. Seriously, he's my little assistant! I know I'm incredibly lucky to be able to take him with me, but my office is quiet enough and he behaves well enough that I can actually get work done.

Plus, my theory is that I would either shut my door a few times per day for less than 10 minutes and nurse him... or I would shut my office door a few times more per day and be chained to the lovely ol' breast pump for 30-45 minutes at at time.

And the pump is not fun. On days that Abbott isn't with me, I've often considered "Mooooo-ing" really loud when I hear co-workers walking down the hall and coming to a stop when they see my door is shut and the "do not disturb" sign is out. Ah, yes... I'm the office comedian. Can't you tell?

My coworkers are great. They all tell me that he's adorable (of course he is, he's only the most adorable kid in the world!) and they all find excuses to pop in and visit my office on days I have him with me.

I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him there though. Evie also came with me when she was a little bitty baby, at least up until I found I wasn't able to juggle both work and mobile baby (ie. crawling) at the same time.

Yup, I'm both an opportunist and a realist.

And being a realist, I'm sure you're tired of reading by now and you want to see PICTURES!

(That's what you come here for anyways, right?!)

Evie gets back to her office work too.
A hole punch and a piece of paper. Endless entertainment.

She's willing to take a break for homemade pizza though.
Photo bomb courtesy of Dadda.

Poor kid got my duck lip. It's not just my lip, but the Neal family lip.
If you've ever seen me or my older brother first thing in the morning after some heavy sleep (hopefully you haven't!), you'll see that we have a seriously puffy upper lip.
Not so much of a Botox-makes-it-look-sexy pout, but more like a bee stung a duck's face and made it swell up into a bubble.
(And I'm sure Uncle Winston is so happy I just informed the world of this facial trait.)

Quit talking about my lips, people!

Also, I'm sure you've heard of the website Pinterest by now. It's my new favorite quick reference guide for everything fun. Need a cool recipe? Just type in some key words and a picture appears with a link to step-by-step directions of whatever you want to make. Need a distraction for a kid? A quick search will get you incredibly creative ideas.

I saw a neat idea the other night while scrolling through and I just had to try it with Evie.

It's MAGIC! It's adorable! It's how to catch a fairie!!!

Directions: empty a glowstick (or three or four glowsticks) in a glass jar. Add glitter. Shake. Boom! You caught a fairie!

This is my attempt to catch the glow that the jar emitted. We had the lights turned off in the kitchen and my camera is picking up the light coming in from the jar and the living room. The glow was actually brighter than I had thought it would be! But with an impromptu photo session and a very uncontrolled environment, I couldn't capture the full extent of the glow.
Evie was amazed (and obviously very wiggly!).

Hi, fairies!!

This was taken at almost-pitch black in her bedroom and my camera picked up the sliver of light from the space under her door.
We had to leave the jar here on her bookshelf because she had to fall asleep looking at her captured fairies!

The munchkins at bath time earlier tonight.
Best time of the day!

Book time with Dadda. Madeline is one of our favorites.

"Where's Walrus?"
Another favorite.

There he is!

Where's Walrus' mustache?!

No, no, no Dadda! It's a LITTLE mustache!

It's off to bed for me now... because it's a long work day tomorrow.

"A mother's work is never done," right?

Well, this mother is done for the day. And since it's only 11:10 PM at the moment, I've actually got 50 minutes left in the day to...

Adios, kiddos!

Zzzzzzzzzzzz...

MY MONKEY'S BREAD

2012-01-25T21:57:00.004-05:00

I hate throwing away spoiled food. I always have a twinge of "there goes another $2 in the trash can... again."

And we always, always.... always end up throwing away bananas. We may eat a few, but we never finish the bunch before they turn into a squishy brown mess.

So... why don't I do the smart thing and just buy less bananas? Because mushy bananas give me an excuse to experiment in the kitchen, of course!

Yum. Yum. Yummy.

After all my trials and some non-edible errors, I think I have finally found my favorite recipe for banana bread. It's perfect. Perfect for my palate, that is. And for my little monkey's discerning tastes as well.

I'm not gonna lie, the recipe is really more of a quick bread dessert. It ain't low-carb, low-sugar, low-anything. And since Paula Deen just came out saying she has diabetes... Let's pretend I just gave you a long lecture and a stern warning about practicing moderation, limiting your sugar intake, and that you-should-practice-healthy-habits stuff.

And you will now ignore the hypothetical lecture if you're gonna make this bread.

I like this recipe because it uses imitation almond extract, which still gives a little bit of a nutty flavor, but without using actual nuts. This is a big plus for sharing the bread with others, since most adults/kids with nut allergies aren't bothered by imitation flavoring. (or if you are my 2 year old daughter who doesn't like the consistency of nuts in any food, or her class at school - where nut allergies are prevalent)

If you want to try it out, here goes:

Preheat your oven to 350.
(In my case, I should turn on the oven sometime the night before making this recipe, since it takes f o r e v e r for our oven to get to the selected temperature. Seriously.)

Put 1/4 cup of softened butter and 1 cup of white sugar in your stand mixer.

If you don't have a stand mixer, I suggest you stop right now, put all your ingredients back in the fridge and go out and buy a stand mixer. Your life will be changed and your culinary habits will be forever benefitted by a stand mixer. And you can help stimulate our economy with your purchase. And you should help because I have little faith that our elected officials are going to be able to do anything about it with more pokey porky politics. And on that note, be sure to go vote this year. And on that note, try to not let the annoying political advertising get to you before election day. Did I mention that I love having a DVR, since I can skip over all the mud slinging?

But I digress... Mix the sugar and butter and throw an egg in there as well. Then add a full teaspoon of imitation almond extract. (Or nuts instead, if you really want them.) Then throw three ripe bananas into the newly purchased mixer's bowl as well. Don't worry about mashing the bananas up beforehand, just peel 'em and toss them in. That's the beauty of a good stand mixer.

Add 2 cups of all purpose flour, 1 teaspoon of baking soda, and 1/2 teaspoon of salt.

Mix all this for together, then stop and scrape the side of the bowl and then mix for another 30 seconds.

Now comes the fun part: throw about a cup of white chocolate chips in and then throw another cup of milk chocolate chips in. Or throw the whole bag in.... it's up to you! Be extremely liberal with your chips. Like Nancy-Pelosi-liberal. Or Eugene-V.-Debs-liberal. Don't try to keep the chips, you must give them away and redistribute them! This bread needs them more than you do! You need to pay your fair share of chips, in order to do the things that have been decided are national priorities. And I've decided this bread is a national priority!

Oh, I'm so ready for this election year to be over.

Mix the whole gooey mess a few times by hand with a spoon, using your own arm strength (look at you! already working off the calories!) and then pour the batter in an 8x4 loaf pan. The pan will be pretty full.

Oh, snap! Two of my favorite things in one picture.
Banana bread and Nutella.
If your banana bread doesn't turn out,
just toast a piece of it and slap some Nutella on it.
Nutella can make anything taste good.

Bake it at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, then turn your oven down to 325 and bake for another 45 minutes. You may need to vary the length of time, depending on your oven. Remember, this is calibrated for my oven.. And it may still be heating up for something I might cook tomorrow.

Can you smell it?

When you do pull it (fully cooked) out of the oven, you better be ready to fight off the hungry wolves who will come hunting for it!

Hungry wolf.
Or my little monkey, depending on the time of day.

Ingredients

1/4 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1 egg
1 tsp imitation almond extract
3 ripe bananas, mashed
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
White chocolate chips
Milk chocolate chips

Trying to shove the whole piece of bread in her mouth.

Love it!

It's good, Mama!

MORE, please!

If you try this recipe, we do hope you enjoy it. If not, do you have a favorite banana bread recipe you wanna share with me?

MLK DAY MUSINGS

2012-01-16T11:59:00.001-05:00

Hello hello! Happy MLK Day, y'all!

In the heavily edited words of Dr. King: I have a dream that my ~~four~~ two little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by ~~the color of their skin~~ their ability to sleep through the night, but by ~~the content of their character~~ their ability to stay happily awake for hours on end.

Okay, okay. It's not as admirable of a goal as Dr. King's dream, but if my kids don't sleep at night, the least they can do is be happy when they are awake!!

But honestly, I can't complain. It's been a milestone week for us here.

Just as we were about to officially diagnose Abbott as what Dr. Sears calls a "high needs baby," he had some very serious growth spurts. According to those smarty pants doctors who wrote the list (and make all moms feel like morons everywhere), a "high needs baby" is one who displays at least half of the features listed on their "high needs" traits. Abbott hit 'em all. And then he added some extra grumpy characteristics all his own.

But this week we've seen some drastic improvements. Lil' homeboy is actually agreeing to nap for longer than 15 minutes. His 'stanky toots aren't making him scream as much any more. He hasn't spit up his food in .... days. Yes, days. And he actually drank from a bottle twice yesterday. Granted, it was only one ounce each time, but he took those ounces down like a champ instead of his usual approach of screaming his head off in a blind rage.

Ahh... yes, growth and development. As much as I love his itty-bitty infant stage, I'll take growing out of it any day. Don't get me wrong, when he's happy, he's the most charming little man you've ever seen. It's just that those happy times ~~are~~ used to be(!) few and far between.

Seriously, how can you be grumpy all the time when you have a morning chat with me like this:

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The past two weeks have seen some serious growth emotionally, mentally, and most definitely physically:

Seriously, Mom? Size 3M clothes?
That was so last month for me.


He's also getting his hair back! In true Abbott-style, he lost all his hair on the top of his head and looked quite like a roly-poly little monk.

No, his hair loss wasn't that bad. But close.

Yes, I'm still a 2 month old and I do get fussy.
Mom, put the darn camera down and hold me!!

But I'm getting bigger by the minute!
Seriously, a button popped off my outfit the other night.
The same outfit had fit earlier that morning.

Also, if you live in the Meriwether/Troup County area and happen to read this blog, I'd like to take a moment to make a plea for you to keep your eyes peeled for another handsome little dude who answers to the name "Nike."

Some close family friends of ours had their little spaniel run away over the weekend. They had all been out at my parent's skeet range and the gun fire spooked him. One of the spaniels didn't mind the shooting, but Nike bolted away.

Nike and his partner in crime engage in a Mexican stand-off
with one of my parent's barn kitties.
I don't think anyone won this match.

He is white with black spots and brown eyebrows. If you see him, please let us know!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2012-01-03T00:10:00.007-05:00

Hello, 2012!!

And hello to writing the wrong date on absolutely everything. It usually takes me till at least March before I get the hang of writing the correct year. You know you do it too... (Seriously, I can't be the only one.)

I hope your holiday was fantastic. Things were definitely busy around here. We did a lot of eating, driving, eating, visiting, sleeping, eating, playing, and a little more eating.

Did I mention we ate a lot?

Christmas started off a few days early at my parents cabin/lodge in west Georgia.
This meant the boys spent a lot of time doing lots of manly things.
(Like drinking hot beverages and snuggling with infants in front of the TV.)

Not a hot beverage.
It's actually a cold beverage and the first of many sugar cookies in Evie's hands.
She caught on quickly to the Santa idea and the gift-giving-and-receiving concept, but she's still a little fuzzy about the whole it's-Jesus'-birthday thing. We're working on that.

We sprung a surprise on her:
Santa knew we were coming to the cabin and he even left presents here for us.
What a nice guy!

The present-opening madness begins.
And the madness really didn't end until a few days later.
This kid scored big-time. Luckiest little girl on the planet.

The little elf was kind enough to take a break
and hand out presents that weren't even hers.

Our family likes to pull out the weapons on Christmas.
And then engage in mortal combat. Only kidding. (Kind of.)
Uncle Battle was providing a helping hand -or pocket knife- to cut a ribbon and Uncle Winston was inspecting Abbott's new rifle.
Yes, our 7-week old baby boy has his own rifle. And I can assure you, when he's old enough to lift it, he will learn how to use it! Till then, Abbott's dad and momma will get the benefit of sighting the rifle in for him.
Watch out.

Gabba Gabba's big surprise from Santa was a massive lawn mower.
She popped a few wheelies and spun a few donuts in the yard getting used to the steering.
Who knew cutting the grass could be so much fun?

After our "first" Christmas was over, we loaded up the kiddos and hustled back to the city to make sure we didn't miss Santa at our own house.

Santa didn't forget us. He came to our house too.
And Evie scored again.

When Evie learned Santa hadn't completely finished the milk and cookies we left for him, she ran into the kitchen and helped herself to his leftovers.
Before she had even opened a single present, she chowed down on Santa's leftover lemon biscotti and milk. Seriously, what kid does that?! I swear we feed her. She's not starving, I promise.

She soon discovered the Mickey and Minnie that Santa also left behind -
and the present opening madness started up again.
(Disney's stock went up this month, in case you were wondering.)

Every kid needs a Slinkie.

Santa remembered Abbott too.
Doesn't he look comfy with his new New England Patriot's bear?
Abbott, Dadda, and the bear can watch Pats games together!

After Christmas morning, we loaded up the kiddos again and trekked to Aunt Nancy's house in Macon for a delicious lunch and even a few more gifts.

Aunt Bridget and Uncle Winston safely guarding Mickey and Minnie...

Cousin Jonathan plays with the new puppy, Samson.
This little guy became Evie's best friend for the day.
(And by little guy, I do mean the puppy. Although Evie likes Jonathan too.)

I managed to snap a picture of Dadda catching a nap.
(He loves it when I take pictures of him sleeping.)
Evie left her new baby doll to nap with him. So sweet.

Later on, we drove back to Gabba and Grandaddy's house to try out Evie's new saddle for Cocoa the mini horse. Have you ever seen anything more adorable?

Seriously. ADORABLE.

She's ready for the Derby, y'all!

Check out those stirrup straps.
They are actually leather dog collars that Gabba found to fit the saddle.
Not kidding. Dog collars.

We unloaded two of our chickens on Gabba Gabba because we have a serious egg problem at our house. Meaning, we have too many eggs being laid. It's only the winter and our girls are laying a ton - so we will be up to our eyeballs in egg yolks when the heavy springtime laying rolls around.
Problem solved: Gabba has two new chickens and we still have five chickens. By my calculations, five chickens egg output is a lot more manageable than seven!

Our girls have never been around a rooster. Their new home has roosters.
So, I guess we can't call them girls anymore... they are now women. Poor things. Roosters aren't exactly romantic suitors. They are more like... well, roosters.
And yes, I realize my 'girls" are actually chickens and I shouldn't be calling them girls or women in the first place. Just go with it, okay?

In other non-farm life news... we decided to start the new year off with a very sweet event. Our baby boy was baptized on January 1st.

Abbott's seriously contemplating the baptismal vows.
Actually, he's debating whether or not he looks like a girl in the frilly christening dress. His momma wore it, his sister wore it, and now he's wearing it.
We added a blue ribbon and let him wear cowboy boots underneath.
That makes it all better, right?!

He looks pretty content with that reasoning.

Back Row- Uncle Battle, Grandaddy, Evie, Dadda, Pop
Front Row - Gabba Gabba, Abbott, Momma and Nana


Abbott: "You're not going to kiss me again, are you?" Evie: "Yup. Try and stop me little man." I love this picture.

Does it get any better than these two cuties?!

We're your parents and there's nothing you can do about it!
Simultaneous realization: "Oh, crap."

HOME AGAIN, HOME AGAIN

2011-12-22T12:21:00.001-05:00

As a stay-at-home mom (for the time being), I'm getting used to the life of being "homeward bound" for most of my day. It's interesting to see what goes on in our neighborhood during the hours that I'm usually at work.

I didn't pay any mind to these things when I was on leave with Evie, but I've been a bit more observant while home with Abbott. The comings-and-goings of residents and visitors, the antics of pets when their owners are away... or when the pets think their owners are away. (Example: Nomar, the bigger of our two dogs, climbs up in Evie's pink chair and sits like a human when he thinks no one is around. It kind of shocked me the first time I caught him, because he looked so regal and normal sitting in it. Kind of a Planet of the Apes moment... he sprang out of the chair immediately with a sheepish look on his face.)

Okay, enough of my drivel... on to the pictures!

When Abbott naps, everybody naps. Including Evie's toys.
And they ALL nap on Momma.
(Please notice they are positioned face down. Evie's trying to tell us that even she knows Abbott would prefer to sleep on his stomach!)

Dad gets in on some of that napping Abbott action.

Evie was always interactive and observant, but it seems
Abbott is already more reciprocal with his facial expressions.
He's "smiley"!

Really smiley.
You can't get too upset when this is the face
keeping you up at night.

Yes, the pregnancy pounds are just melting off.
Oh, wait... nope, they're not.
It would probably help if we stopped baking so many "test cookies" for Santa.

She likes him. A lot.

I'm printing a thousand wallet-sized copies of this and hiding them all over our house, cars, wallets, purses.. everywhere I can think of.
That way, in a few years when they are beating each other to pieces, I can whip this photo out and say
"STOP IT!!! I KNOW YOU REALLY LOVE EACH OTHER!"

YES!
(he's just practicing his jabs for later...)

Also, for the record... daytime television still stinks. For all you soap opera fans, I have no idea how you do it. The only bright spot in all the daytime drivel has been The Chew, which is actually one of my new favorite shows to sit down and watch when our little monkeys are taking their afternoon naps.

ONE MONTH UPDATE

2011-12-09T15:09:00.002-05:00

Hello there! It's been a whole month since our last blog post. We're still here and are all alive, I promise.

To defend our absence, let me explain: In my typical all-or-nothing fashion, I made myself a promise to savor every single moment of maternity leave with Abbott and not let anything else get in the way. I had realized how fast our time with Evie as an infant flew by and I decided with Abbott that I wanted to shut away the outside world and enjoy every minute of his infancy that I could.

Well, that was my theory anyways. Problem is, I didn't inform the rest of the world of my intentions and life has still managed to get in and bother me. There have been plenty of distractions along the way and unfortunately I've given in to a lot of them.

(Don't even get me started on crappy U.S. maternity leave policies. YES, I'm very thankful to have a good job - and NO, I don't want to go back to work when my baby is only 12 weeks old! Can we at least wait till babies are crawling before ditching them at daycare?!)

Don't get me wrong, I've still managed to relish every moment I can with Abbott, but I'm learning that life is about keeping things in moderation, right? (What? ... Hell no! Moderation is for wimps! What did Mae West once say? Too much of a good thing can be wonderful?! Yup, that's more my style.)

One week old.
All 8 lbs, 12 oz of sweetness.
Give or take a wet diaper.


One month old chunker. 10 lbs 12 oz. This little lion man doesn't skip many meals.

Also, I promise we haven't gone the route of they-had-a-blog-about-one-kid-but-then-had-another-kid-and-got-too-busy-to-blog-anymore. Well, at least we're not heading that direction yet. Lord knows, it is much busier around here with two kiddos and this blog may get kicked to the curb sooner or later.

So, now that Abbott has survived an entire month with us, here's some insight into what I've learned so far as a mother of two:

Boys are very different than girls..... and every kid is different.
(Wow! No sh*t, Sherlock. That's a pretty deep conclusion to come to!)

I can state this with authority because Abbott has made it abundantly clear that he is in no way a carbon copy of Evie. He has often made us feel like we are complete amateurs at parenting even though we've managed to keep one kid alive and even teach her a productive thing or two. (Amateurs is a nice word. Morons is appropriate most days.)

Just a few examples:

- Evie loved bath time from her very first day on the planet. Baths would calm her and have always been part of her bedtime process. Abbott has a tendency to get wound up during his bath, and baths sometimes excite him or agitate him. I've been giving him baths at bedtime, only to find out he wants to stay up and play for hours after. It's a total energy rush for him!

-Evie hated infant massages or being rubbed down with lotion for a long time. Abbott absolutely adores this and you could massage his little bootie all day and he'd be in complete heaven. Forget the spa certificates for our daughter, give them to our son. (Not really. Clearly you're better off giving the spa treatments to their mother - that way, everybody's happy and we all win!)

-Evie was (and is) very LOUD. Abbott is both LOUD and NOISY.

I didn't realize Evie was so loud as an infant till my older brother, Winston, mentioned it. I started paying attention to other infants and realized that our little girl is like a boisterous foghorn over a sea of tiny tugboat toots. (How's that for a comparison?) Evie's cry and voice has always been the loudest in the room. Seriously.

Abbott is on the same decibel level as his sister - yet he is also a noise machine. He grunts, groans, moans, and snores much more than she ever did. I would often have to put my hand on Evie's chest to see if she was breathing, but I can be three feet from the crib and hear that Abbott is breathing. His little grunts and groans are reassuring to hear at night, even if they keep me awake!

I guess a constantly vocal child is a good thing because I can already differentiate most of Abbott's cries and groans. Sometimes he belts out a I'm-hungry-and-you-better-come-feed-me-right-now-woman! cry, other times it's a Hey-where-did-everybody-go-I'm-lonely-and-I-want-a-hug-right-now cry.

Every now and then it's a oops-I-pooped-my-pants-and-this-is-kind-of-embarrassing fuss. My personal favorite is the holy-crap-my-sister-is-all-up-in-my-grill-and-now-I'm-overstimulated yell.

Seriously? I only cry because you guys
insist on bathing me in a pink tub.
We all know pink is Evie's signature color
and if I try to claim pink as my favorite too,
she will stage a massive revolution.

And last but not least, a HUGE difference between our little ones is that Abbott has reflux. This has made life a bit harder for all of us. Because of the reflux, it is really uncomfortable for him to sleep flat on his back. He either wakes up screaming and needing to be burped again, or spits up a lot, which prevents him from sleeping for long periods.

I posted about stomach sleeping on Facebook and got a ton of feedback from friends who said their child/grandchild was a stomach sleeper and that I should just let him sleep on his stomach and he'd be fine.

The problem is, I talked to our pediatrician (who we adore and trust completely!) and after having a discussion about a lot of his symptoms, she was adamant that we keep him on his back when he sleeps.

Our conversation was not one of those I'm-going-to-smile-and-wink-when-I-say-he-is-supposed-to-be-on-his-back-but-I'll-ignore-it-if-you-put-him-on-his-stomach type of chat.

Instead, she looked me directly in the eye and said, "Abbott needs to sleep on his back. Yes, he will learn to roll over - but for now, you must put him on his back."

Anyone that has read recent newborn literature knows that you are always supposed to put a baby to sleep on his or her back. SIDS is the leading cause of death among infants 1 month to 1 year old and is known to be higher in boys. Yes, it remains unpredictable despite years of research - but putting a baby on its back lowers the risk by 60 percent. I'm thinking that's a percentage I should pay attention to.

So very peaceful.
Some of the time.

So, we've learned to swaddle our little lion man a bit tighter, stick to a good bedtime and nursing routine, and make sure his little tummy is full and he's as burped out (as physically possible!) before putting him down on his back.

He still spits up, and wakes up crying to be burped again, but he has gone from sleeping only 1.5 or 2 hours at a time, to more like 3.5 or even 4 hours. This is fine with me! I can handle that. I can live with that. Even better, I can actually function on that.

And he's alive, so we're good!

You expect my huge noggin to fit in that hat?
Not gonna happen.

In reading back over this blog post, I realize I have a tendency to string-words-together-with-hyphens-in-order-to-convey-an-idea. Sorry if this makes reading and interpreting my ramblings harder on your eyes.

I don't even know if there is a literary term for this. (Yeah, it's called being a descriptive crackhead.)

I'm functioning on 3.5 hours of sleep here, people.

Cut me some slack. ;-)

Till next time...

Evie and Abbott's Mom

HEY, ABBOTT!

2011-11-11T12:28:00.001-05:00

He's here!!!

Abbott Wells joined our family at 1:33 PM on Friday, November 4th.


Abbott shares his birthday with his great-grandfather, Lt. Col. James W. Boddie (Katie's grandfather)

"Evie hold him!" has become a frequent statement
around our house this past week.


No, she's not trying to smother him... She's sharing her special blanket with him! THIS IS A REALLY BIG DEAL. Seriously. Not just anybody gets to touch the blanket...

He's awesome! Can I keep him?!

We've spent the past few days getting to know each other. Abbott is a very calm and chill baby, which helps Momma's recovery process a lot! He's the first thing Evie asks to see when she wakes up in the morning.

Below are a few pictures I've taken during Abbott's first week with us. Just feast your eyes on this adorable bundle of snuggles...

A very late night/early morning at the hospital with Momma.

Hi, I know you.

Ready to come home!

Mom, seriously. You're making me go cross-eyed
from all the picture taking!

Abbott and his daddy's GT letterman's jacket.

Soaking up the sunshine on Momma and Dadda's bed.

And of course we can't forget our other new family member.
Introducing: Evie the Shark!

She's worn this shark hat for a few days now and even wore it into her class at school yesterday. She roared/growled (like a shark?!) at her classmates and pretended to swim around.

She's a happy shark. No shark bites to report so far. (thankfully)

Now, it's time for me to go snuggle with our new addition. I hear him yelling my name!

TICK TOCK

2011-10-17T10:20:00.001-04:00

Sorry for the extended absence. No, we're not a family of four yet - Baby Boy is still nice and snuggly inside his momma's tummy. We've just had a flurry of activity going on around here and blogging got pushed aside.

We had a very important birthday in our house (Evie turned TWO!), and we also have had lots of work projects to finish up before maternity leave, Georgia Tech's tailgate (for what was probably the last game we'll make it to this year!), Nana and Pop coming to visit from Rhode Island, and we've been trying to tie up some loose ends and finish up appointments while the clock ticks down towards our little man getting here.

Because Evie's birthday landed on a weekday, our little lady ended up having a week long celebration for "E-bie's HAPPY Day!"... her birthday was on October 6th, which also happens to be the same day as the Y&P's wedding anniversary.

I have yet to make it through all the pictures on my camera from the first half of this month, but these few are from our trip down to Mountville, where Miss Priss had some one-on-one time with Cocoa, the miniature pony.

We also took some pictures with Gabba Gabba that (might?) turn into a Christmas card for them. Hopefully, I'm not giving a surprise away, but even with weird and speckled lighting, horses who didn't want to look towards the camera, and silly faces from Gabba, I think some of the pictures came out okay.

Gabba has plenty of pictures to choose from, but these were some of my favorites:

We also watched Uncle Battle try out the new zip line. When it came time for her turn, Evie hung on for a few (assisted!) seconds, but I think the zip line is an activity we are still a few years away from getting the 'hang' of!

He flies through the air with the greatest of ease...

MY turn!

I'll just watch the crazies go down
the line from here, Grandaddy.

And last, but definitely not least, below is a picture of the Baby Boy. We took Evie to "see" her baby brother this past weekend. I found a good deal on a last minute 3D/4D ultrasound appointment and we decided it would be neat for Evie to see pictures of her baby brother. (Just for her to confirm that there is really something in there!!)

I was well past the "optimal" window for the ultrasound to be done. He's really too big now to get good pictures of, but they were able to capture a few of our little man...

I'm trying to sleep here! Leave me alone, people!

Other than freaking out the first few minutes because she didn't like the ultrasound tech touching Momma's stomach, Evie was interested in baby brother for about a minute and then wanted to watch Elmo videos on Dadda's phone.

Oh, well... I guess a dis-interested big sister is better than a resentful big sister, right?

We're still hoping for a loveable big sister by the time he gets here!

'TIS THE SEASON

2011-09-30T16:02:00.001-04:00

For football tailgating with friends, enjoying the reprieve from Georgia's hot weather, a little bit of fall window cleaning,...

And of course who could forget that Halloween Oreo cookies now stock the shelves?

Waving to the cars going by (above)...
and doing a little happy dance! (below)

Watching Dadda spray off the summer dust on the windows

How can this kid can freak out going through a car wash, yet press her face to the window pane as Dadda shoots water directly at her?

Missed a spot... Right HERE, Dadda!

I'll just nap while Dadda does the work.

Mom? These are ORANGE?!

And they're GREAT!

More, please!

Happy Fall, y'all!!

CHOOSE YOUR SICK DAYS WISELY

2011-09-23T15:06:00.000-04:00

As much as we dislike having a sick kiddo, it's days like last Friday that make me actually enjoy having a sick day with Evie every now and then. Evie woke up with a slight fever, and about 20 minutes after breakfast, she decided to throw up.

Not good... but not necessarily bad either, since she still being her happy self and wanting to play, even though we could tell she didn't feel well.

Momma Peach took the day off of work and stayed home with the sick kiddo. We took it easy in the morning and enjoyed reading books in our pajamas, watching some Elmo, and just being bums. Evie kept fluids and snacks down, so when I asked if she wanted to go outside she really perked up. We decided to take a stroll in the backyard to get a whiff of some really great breezy autumn weather.

Yep, she dressed herself.
Our day included quite a few clothing and footwear changes.

Just moseying around...

Although she looked a bit morose every now and then...

She really wasn't!

Faker?!

"Momma, haven't you figured out that this was all part of my plan?
I knew it was Friday and I just wanted to stay home!"

PEEK - A - BOO!

Does this look like a sick kid to you?

BOSSY PANTS

2011-09-15T12:48:00.000-04:00

Watch out, Tina Fey, we've got our own little bossy pants in the house.

Evie's done a good job of perfecting her ~~tyrannical~~ instructive attitude lately. Her teachers at school tell us that she really enjoys "playing teacher" towards the other students. (I hope this is not their polite way of hinting that our child is a domineering bully? Hmmmmm...)

"You sit HERE. I sit HERE. Read THIS book."
So far, most of her friends at school are
receptive to our little bully.

We've known for a while that Evie is quite adept at pulling on her sassy pants whenever she wants.

Of course, the other female in the Y&P house is not to be outdone, as Momma is really filling out her own pants these days. Not necessarily in a sassy way though.

A friend recently mentioned that she wanted to see new belly pictures of little lion man - and I realized I haven't taken any in a while. Always the ham, Evie wanted to be a part of the belly picture process...

Who's having a baby?
Evie is having a baby?
Wow, Evie! I'm glad Momma is helping you with that.

How many times can a person play a game of chase in a single day?
Evie knows no limit. Her teachers definitely get a workout.
Momma is not quite as fast as she used to be, but Evie loves a good game of chase around the house, with intermittent games of hide-and-seek.

Bona fide sassy ~~britches~~ skirt.

And just think, there's a second one coming soon!

FARM LIFE

2011-09-09T11:38:00.006-04:00

If you know us, or if you have stopped by this blog before, then you probably know we have quite a few living creatures around the Yankee & Peach abode.

Last time I checked, we're currently a family of 13, and that number will be moving up to a total of 14 when the little lion man gets here.

We get the funniest reactions from people when they first learn that we have chickens at our house. Typically, their responses are a mixture of surprise (Chickens?! Really?!), a little bit of confusion ("Where do you keep them? In the basement?"), and often some piqued interest in the hens' actual purpose ("Wow, can I get some eggs when they start laying?).

Hi, my name is Thelma. I have a twin sister named Louise.
I enjoy corn, chicken scratch, mealworms, all sorts of plants, and pecking at your toes if you wiggle them near me.
I also like pulling Evie's flower hair clips out of her hair
and making her chase me around to get the clips back.

I know there are some bonafide city-loving folks who think we are crazy. But I also know that there are a lot of city dwellers and suburban residents who truly want (or miss having) open green space and animal life around them. I know I do.

I also realize that the Yankee & Peach family is the very definition of wanna-be suburban farmers. (Not that our few pets really count as livestock in my opinion.) If my grandfather was still alive -and if I had the cajones to tell him that I considered myself a "farmer"- he'd probably just laugh and shake his head at me. That man actually was a farmer.

But, every so often someone tells me "Gee, I wish we could have chickens at our house."

And I usually reply with a rambling answer of, "Well, you can! I mean, as long as you have just a few of them. Not a big farm or anything.... I promise it just takes a little effort and some creative planning to find a spot for them. Of course, you have to feed and water them, take care of them, and clean up after them - but they are really good garbage disposals on their own! It's not hard at all..."

I lose them about the time I say "you have to clean up after them." And then their eyes really glaze over when I start talking about building a coop and the recycling and fertilizing that we do.

Well, yeah... anything you want to keep ALIVE and HEALTHY is going to take a little bit of effort, people!

Nope, they don't live in the basement. Just a well-drained patch of soil that is relatively sheltered from the elements and they have their very own coop.

During a recent web surfing expedition, I found a neat posting that confirmed my suspicions that there really are city people who are capable of "blooming where they are planted."

There's a young couple in Belgium who took over the fifth floor and roof of a former factory.

They literally have a mini-farm..... On a roof..... Of a building in the city of Antwerp...

Yup, those are live sheep. On a factory rooftop.

I would expect to see this out in the countryside...
not on a rooftop in Antwerp!

Hmm... not sure about the smell coming into the house.
But I guess that would provide incentive to keep the barn exceptionally clean!

The engineer side of me wants to know every detail about the preparation process. How much reinforcement did they have to put underneath the barn and grass areas? What are the logistics involved with hauling sheep up to a roof, or making sure that the chickens don't fly over to the neighboring buildings?

Any way around it, it seems to work for them!

Sadly, I seriously doubt this rooftop farm would ever be accepted in downtown Atlanta. I'm sure a neighbor would complain or the building authorities would step in and freak out over every single detail.

But I think this also shows that you if have the energy, the inspiration, and the ability to think creatively, then you can pretty much have the life you want anywhere you want it.

We don't like paparazzi, lady.
Put the camera down.

Every time I think we are just posers who don't even come close to qualifying as real farmers, I'm reminded of how happy the pets make us and it doesn't bother me as much.

Yes, we realize our hens haven't laid a single egg yet, but already the girls have provided hours of entertainment to Miss Evie and her parents.

And when our hens finally do lay an egg, we'll be sure to shout it from our own rooftop!

(They are only four months old, we're hoping for early Spring 2012!)

They'll be none of that, thank you very much.

POSITIVE INTEGERS

2011-08-31T13:21:00.004-04:00

There are three kinds of people: those who can count and those who can't.

Ha.

We're doing a lot of counting in our house these days. Counting the days until we become a family of four, counting the stairs as we climb them every morning and night, counting the animals in our storybooks, counting the numbers on the scale as it groans under Momma's increasing weight...

Below are some recent videos of Miss Priss showing off her numerical skills.
Yes, you heard her correctly: she does leave out the number six.

Every. Single. Time.

She just refuses to say it. It might be a pronunciation thing, or it may be that she just doesn't like the number. But "six" is never in her calculations.

If we read a book that has a picture of seven chickens, all of a sudden there are eight chickens because she skips six and goes straight to the number "seh-BUN."

Forget ten monkeys, there are always eleven - simply because six doesn't exist in her world.

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Why is six afraid of seven?
Because seven eight nine!!
( Seven ate nine. Get it? Durrrhhh.)

And last, but not least, below is a recent video of the bouncing baby boy in Momma's tummy. Luckily, his activity level isn't to the point of being very painful yet.

However, he's pretty much this active every evening. (Which is why you should NEVER ask a pregnant lady if she's able to get any restful sleep. The response will always be "No!")

I can only imagine the increasing force that will be behind these punches and kicks in the next few weeks. At one point, while pregnant with Evie, I put an empty dinner plate on my stomach and she was able to kick it off.

Oh, the things pregnant gals do to amuse themselves.

Yes, I realize the camera angle makes my stomach look incredibly large compared to my chicken legs. Oh, well. Everything about me is disproportional right now.

By the way, do you know the first derivative of a cow?
Prime Rib!

What happens when a triangle gets into an accident?
It becomes a "WRECK TANGLE!"

How can you tell that a mathematician is extroverted?
When talking to you, he looks at your shoes instead of at his!

Evie and Baby Boy are doomed.

Both of their parents went to an engineering school.

(Which means I now have to throw a science joke in just for good measure!)

Platinum and Silver are sitting in a bar.

Gold walks in and Platinum says, "AU, get out of here!"

.
.
.
.
.

Do I hear crickets chirping?

BOTTOMLESS FUN

2011-08-23T16:23:00.001-04:00

The record to beat is four. Four times in one day.

That's the total number of times Evie has gone potty consistently in a single day. Considering she goes through only about 5 diapers per day, that's pretty good! We're getting there.

In the meantime, there's a lot of pants-less partying going on in our house.

Especially on weekends. Just warning you... ya know, in case you drop by our house and are surprised by the nekkid dance party that is usually commencing in our kitchen:

Showing some serious white-girl overbite during her dance marathon.
She gets that from her dad, I swear.

And who could forget the pants-less horse grooming?

She's conscientious enough to keep potty paper on hand at all times.


"Evie, do you need to go potty?" "Lemme check..." Classic. She'll just love me for posting this pic... one day.

No, we aren't teaching our child to be the next pants-less Hollywood celebrity.
She (usually) knows she needs to be wearing clothes to leave the house.

Sassy britches.
22 months going on 22 years!

BALANCING THE BANGS

2011-08-17T09:50:00.000-04:00

We're in the process of letting Evie's bangs grow out.

Why? I have no idea, just seemed like a good idea. Plus, her Dadda doesn't really like her bangs, so he suggested we let them grow out.

So far, Evie has handled it like a trooper. But, it's a delicate procedure for us parents - trying to keep the frontal hair daggers from attacking her eyes, while also keeping the rear mullet growth in check without the temptation of just snipping the bangs in front at the same time.

Not that there is anything wrong with a good mullet, ya know.

Gabba Gabba came to visit last Friday evening, which allowed Momma and Dadda a dinner out to celebrate Momma's birthday. We lasted a pitiful 2.5 hours out. Stuffed our stomachs full of delicious food, discussed name options for the Little Lion Man (narrowed the list down from 250 to about 20 options), and came home in time to kiss Evie goodnight and crawl in bed ourselves. Ahhh... parenthood.

While we were out, Gabba and Evie came up with a terrific hairdo to keep the bangs in check:

Ya like it?!

What? Too much color for ya?

How many of these things are up there?

Sadly, Evie can't wear these hair clips to school, since some of the younger kiddos in her class have a tendency to try to snack on them.

But that's okay, because she's spending more and more time "visiting" the older kids in the next classroom. Her teacher thinks she's ready for the move-up to the next class, which means...... more potty practice!

I come bearing gifts.


Not much, but it's the best I could do! We're so very proud.

EVIE'S EARLY BREAKFAST SOIREE

2011-08-08T10:25:00.003-04:00

What: A Breakfast Soiree

Where: The Yankee & Peach household

When: Early Morning, Sunday, the 7th of August
(sorry you missed it, hopefully you slept in instead!)
Menu:

Medley of Fruits & Yogurts

Whole Wheat Waffles
Liquid Libations

Welcome to my breakfast soiree!

Today, we will analyze optional dining techniques and maneuvers.

What, the inclined head doesn't work for your digestion?

Well, then...
we'll move on to the wine pairings.

Wait! Wait! Wine, you say?!

Let me explain!! You see, Dadda...

Momma has only given me ONE glass this morning.

You should really be worried when she gives me FOUR to start the day.

Now, let's examine proper technique for holding a wine glass.
I realize this position is incorrect, as you should never hold the glass by its bowl, only by its stem since the heat of your hand will quickly warm the liquid.

This technique is acceptable - especially if you are taking the time to inhale the aroma. Some tasters claim that you can get more aroma by holding your nose an inch or so above the glass after swirling. They think you catch more than you would if you put your nose all the way into the glass. Try both ways to see what works for you.
I prefer to stick my nose in as close as possible.

Did you know that 80% of our sense of taste is actually in our nose? The aromas can be quite different depending on how far into the glass your nose goes. What do you smell?
Keep in mind, there is no proper sniffing technique.

But I will warn you, wine tasting at an early hour can result in artwork being done in the nude shortly after.

Don't look at me.
I just live here and have to put up with this stuff.

*Wine = Minute Maid Fruit Punch

FABULOUS FRIDAY!

2011-08-05T09:31:00.002-04:00

Whew. It's been a pretty long week for us here at the Y&P house, but I'm sure we're not the only ones who are ready for the weekend to come.

Time to shed the work clothes and put on the play clothes for a while!

I can see the weekend from here - it's just around the corner!

A few things on our weekend list of 'to-do'...

-Homemade chocolate chip cookies with my little sous chef (or would that be "baker's apprentice?")
(Got the ingredients, just been procrastinating in making them!)

-Catch some of the final episodes of Shark Week on TV.
(you know it's awesome. as long as you're not at the beach while watching.)
-Birthday party for our little buddy Owen, who's turning 3!
(Evie has pointed out his invitation posted on the fridge every day since we received it)
-Massive amount of weeding in the flower beds and garden
(fingers crossed for no heat advisories so pregnant momma doesn't pass out? Dadda is in charge of all the grass mowing, but as he says "I don't do weeds. I don't know what to pull. It's all green to me." I've added a few new plants to our flower garden that he may not recognize, so he's got a good point... if I want my new plantings to survive!)
-Clean the chicken coop and add new bedding and pine chips(Evie is a big help. She plays in the chicken run and feeds the ladies entirely too many snacks while Momma cleans it out.)
-Spread the old bedding into the flower beds/garden
(The tomato plants LOVE the chicken coop remnants... hello, natural nitrogen fertilizer!)
-Fix up my old art easel that Gabba Gabba gave me for Evie to use
(Dadda will cut a few small pieces of wood for me to add for shelving and I'll probably put a fresh coat of paint on the whole thing)

-Homemade ice cream with Miss Priss
(I have a feeling there will be strawberries involved.)

-Possibly paint our front door. (It's in need of help and I've been wanting to paint it since we moved in four years ago. Hmmm... this may have to wait till we have cooler weather.)

-Hit the local water park. (Because it's too dang hot not to!)

-Keep the door to the office closed till next week. (Not even going to think about organizing that mayhem right now.)

Happy Friday, y'all!

THE CALLAWAY KIDS - Then & Now

2011-08-02T14:52:00.003-04:00

Evie's school was closed Friday for a teacher work day, so we decided to hit the road for a mini-vacation. Dadda had some Marriott points to burn, so we booked a few nights at The Lodge & Spa at Callaway Gardens.

Some of you may remember Callaway Gardens was the scene of the crime: we held our wedding reception at the beautiful Sibley Center! Most of our wedding party and guests stayed on the Callaway property and the Lodge & Spa hosted us on our wedding night.

Although Callaway is just a quick drive to Momma's parents house - we thought staying at the resort would be fun. With a toddler, it always seems your "day out" is cut short when you try to figure out where nap-time will fit into the schedule. This usually means we stop what we're doing and have to leave to find a bed or quiet place for Evie to zonk out for an hour or two. Not this time - we had a room to go back to, so we could quickly pick back up with the fun when nap time was over!

We started our Callaway vacation by visiting the Sibley Center - which, sadly, Dadda and I haven't been back to together since our wedding reception. (I've visited a few times, but Dadda hasn't made the trip with me.)

"This one-of-a-kind garden/greenhouse encompasses five acres of native and exotic plants within its tropical conservatory, sub-Mediterranean Conservatory, sculpture garden, fern grotto, main conservatory, 22- foot waterfall and outdoor garden. Unlike most building projects, the principal architect for the Sibley Horticultural Center was a landscape architect. The late Robert Marvin of Walterboro, South Carolina, was known for his pioneering environmental design concepts that provided maximum energy conservation."

The gardens set up for our reception in 2007.

Momma's Cake & Dadda's Cake.
(at the time, better known as the Bride & Groom!)
Wish they were around for us to nibble on for this recent visit!

Who knew that exactly two years from the day
this was taken we'd be a family of THREE?!
Yup, Evie was born on our second wedding anniversary!

Fast forward almost four years....

Come on, Dadda. I saved you a spot on the bench!

Our little lady checking out some of the scenery.

Inspecting the wildlife..

... and lizards!

Following Dadda to the waterfall

Woah! This thing is cool!

Simply fascinated... And really wanting to jump in.
(Momma was really glad that big ol' noggin of hers can't fit through the railing.)

I gotta call somebody and tell them about this thing!
Waterfalls are awesome!

Just a few feet from the waterfall is an elevated platform where Momma and Dadda shared their first dance as a married couple...

Of course, you say the word "dance" to Evie
and she has to show you how she can shake her booty.

I'll just sit here and watch you guys dance now!

She took one last peek at the waterfall....

And then it was off to the races down the garden walkways...

Until she saw the goldfish...
that she found could feed all by herself!

Sooooo cool, Dadda!

Here, fishy fishy fishy.

Contemplating life... and goldfish.

And then more dancing!

After the Sibley Center, we grabbed lunch and checked out the Lodge's pool... where we discovered our little lady enjoys pina coladas, but loves strawberry daiquiris even more.

We went back to the room for a quick dry-off before nap time, but our exhibitionist had other plans..

Hmmm.. checking out the goods in the mini bar and fridge.

What's out here?

Giving other Callaway guests a free show!
HELLO, world!

We also hit Callaway's Robin Lake and their beach activities for a few hours with Uncle Battle, but Momma didn't bring her camera, so no beach pics. (whoops)

However, the camera was on hand at the pool the next day when we had Gabba and Grandaddy meet us at the Lodge.

Practicing her jumping skills.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Dadda and Grandaddy parked under the shade of the poolside bar -
and supplied Evie with an endless supply of her new addiction: strawberry daiquiris!

You wouldn't know the daiquiris were alcohol- free, since our little lady started stripping off her swimsuit after just a few sips. Watch out!
(We really do have an exhibitionist.)

After getting all dried off,
we decided to head out to dinner...

But stopped in for a quick round of
shopping at Chanticleer in Pine Mountain...
where we met a nice new friend.

Momma, I don't think he speaks my language.

All in all, we had a fun - albiet too short- vacation.

And even though we stayed at the Lodge & Spa... sadly, Momma didn't make it to the spa for any treatments (a prenatal massage is on my list of things-to-do before baby boy gets here!). But we were just too busy having fun to slow down for stuff like that.

I'm thinking next time, we'll have to rent the Ramblin Wreck to drive around in... just for old times sake.

Adios, kiddos!

BAWK BAWK UPDATE

2011-07-24T14:09:00.001-04:00

We are no longer owners of baby chicks. Our fowly friends have officially graduated into the "adolescent chicken category." They are just full of teen angst and hormones and stuff like that.

Actually, they really aren't full of hormones, since we don't feed them that kind of thing.

But these hens are the most efficient garbage disposals I've ever seen. We toss all kinds of greens, weeds, yard clippings, and melon rinds into their pen - and the girls go berserk over the goodies. Whatever leftovers they leave goes into our compost bin- but they really don't leave much!

On weekdays, the chickens are usually Momma's responsibility and she tends to their feedings. Evie visits them every other day or so. But on weekends, Evie loves to go help feed and play with them...

Come and get it, ladies!
Still in her pajamas, Evie requested to feed the chickens
right after she was done with her own breakfast.

Evie still hasn't been able to sit still long enough
for the girls to come eat out of her hand.
She gets excited when they get close -
and starts bouncing and scares them off.

Here you go, bawk-bawks!

Our girls are definitely living up to their names.
Foxy Cleopatra (who we call Fox) is by far the smartest of the group. (She's the dark brown Speckled Sussex at left, burying her head in the group.) She's the first one out of the coop in the morning and definitely the quickest to learn things.
The Rhode Island Reds (reddish browns) are friendly chickens - and behave just as backyard chickens should. Thelma and Louise are their names - and they are definitely partners in crime.
The two blondies are the epitome of every bad blonde joke you've ever heard. Sorry to offend any of you natural blondes out there, but these chickens are absolute idiots. They are funny, ditzy, and entertaining - but they really do have a pea-sized brain and a personality to go with it.
The black speckled chickens are the most aloof. These are the Silver Laced Wyandottes (Jay-Z and Artimus Fowl). They are polite, cautious, and quiet. What more could you ask for from laying hens?

Evie is filling up their hanging feeder, which is attached
to the bottom of their raised coop to keep the feed sheltered from the weather.

Momma is more than happy to enlist Evie to feed, even if most of the food doesn't actually make it in the feeder when Evie does the pouring. Baby brother has been making it harder for Momma and her expanding belly to wiggle and duck under tight spaces, so Evie's help is much appreciated.

Proud little chicken farmer.

My work here is done! Eat up, ladies!


We finished just in time to listen for the morning train to go by. Nothing like a rousing CHOO-CHOO chant to get your day started off right.

I AM SHANE BATTIER'S MOTHER

2011-07-19T15:09:00.004-04:00

No, I'm not really his mom. Obviously. But let me explain. Sports fans know exactly who I'm talking about. For non-athletic supporters, let me enlighten you.

Shane Battier is a darn good basketball player. He played four years at Duke University, where he led the Blue Devils to two Final Fours. Duke lost to UConn in 1999, but came back to win the national championship against Arizona two years later.

In 2001, his Duke jersey was retired (a big deal), he received the National Player of the Year award (an even bigger deal), and then he was selected as the sixth overall pick of the 2001 NBA Draft by the Memphis Grizzlies (cha-ching!), he then had a stint with the Houston Rockets (ehhh), and then was traded back to the Memphis Grizzlies during the 2010 - 2011 NBA season. He was even recently named the seventh smartest professional athlete by the Sporting News.

And despite his impressive resume, can you guess the first thing that pops in my mind when I think of him?


Sadly, it's his cornrows I think of first.

Shane has cornrow 'scars' on his scalp. Someone once mentioned that the scars were because his mom left his cornrows in too long as a child and they created permanent impressions on his scalp. (Granted, this may be an urban legend that I'm ignorantly repeating. If so, sorry Shane!)

I don't think his scars are really that bad, but depending on his facial expressions and head movement, you can still see the wrinkles and the 'rows' left in his scalp.

Over the years, the wrinkles have even started to fade...

Come on, guys.
They're not bad now!

What I found funny is that "they" (meaning: the media/ sportsfans/ chatterboxes/ etc) have always blamed his mom for the scars. They didn't blame his dad, or his grandma, not even the hairdresser who might have been the one to actually put the cornrows on his head. His mom always got the blame for it. Even if Shane was old enough to tell somebody "Hey, my head really itches, maybe I should take these out," everyone still points the finger at his mom.

I'm sure Shane's mother is a very nice lady. She raised an intelligent, successful, athletic, and seemingly personable fellow. But sadly, I only associate her with his cornrows saga. Whether it's a true story or not.

See?
He even has a fun sense of humor!

I remember watching Shane play ball in person when Duke played at my alma mater, Georgia Tech, while I was in college - and I thought that he was a very good looking guy, even with the odd wrinkles on his head.

Heck, recent pictures make him look like a pretty good candidate for a potential GQ model:

I can't even look at the camera.
It may break under the gaze of my awesomeness.

His wifey definitely digs the look.

So, why am I blogging about this? Because of two reasons:

(1) Anytime I do anything to slightly alter Evie's appearance, there's a little voice in my head that says "Am I being Shane Battier's mom right now?" Meaning: Am I doing something that is of little consequence right now, but could permanently scar her later?

and...

(2) When Evie and Baby Boy are older I don't want my legacy to be as the "mom who screwed up her kid." (Whether it be physically, psychologically, emotionally...) I don't actually think Shane's mom screwed her kid up at all. I think he turned out just fine! But you know when people hear his cornrow story, some of them shake their head and think "Awh, poor kid, what a bad parent his mom was." (Which also tells me that their scale of what exactly makes for a really bad parent is skewed.)

To be fair, we don't do much to "alter" Evie's appearance. However....

EXAMPLE #1 of my "SBM moment" (SHANE BATTIER MOM moment): A few weeks ago, Evie got a ferocious sunburn on her face. I had forgotten to apply sunblock before she went to school and she rubbed something (lotion, bug spray, baby oil?!) on her cheeks prior to going outside. Her shiny baby doll porcelain skin got fried, y'all. Blistered, red and puffy.

I walked into school to pick her up and the school administrator stopped me before I even got to her classroom, asking me "Do you have a good dermatologist for Evie to go see?" Ohhhh, crap.

We kept her indoors and out of the sun for the next few days, applying all sorts of lotions with the magical healing powers of aloe and vitamin E. Her little cheeks were sore and they peeled a bit, but ultimately the redness faded, her skin returned to normal, and she was fine.

But I just knew that ONE SINGLE DAY was responsible for ruining her complexion and her skin for the rest of her life and it would be a "SBM" story. All because her silly mommy forgot to put sunblock on her that morning.

EXAMPLE #2 of my SBM Moment: Evie loves nail polish. I find this funny, as I hardly wear nail polish on my fingernails, but I do on my toenails.

Evie was about 12 months old when she first saw me with a bottle of polish and came running, yelling "Me! Momma! Me me me me!!!" with her outstretched hands waiting to be painted. (She has definitely noticed nail polish on other people... Aren't these toddlers perceptive little buggers?)

Blue! I like my toes to match my Play-Doh.

Pink fingernails - definitely her signature color.

So, I started letting her wear nail polish. Not a heavy coat- a quick swipe of one layer of color. But those of you mani/pedi connoisseurs know that you really need to put down a protective base coat. (A primer coat that protects the nails and keeps the color from staining the fingernail.) Sometimes, you can end up with yucky looking yellow nails that are brittle from not taking the time to change the polish enough.

Yeah, well... Momma didn't do the protective base coat. Last week, I notice that the some of the colored polish was starting to be absorbed into her nail color.

Great! My kid will have gross yellow nails for the rest of her life!

Not that gross.
Come on, y'all. Give me a little bit of credit.

I took her nail polish off, cleaned her nails, and everything was fine - but anytime Evie has asked for polish since, I tell her she has to sit perfectly still through a base coat before she gets the color she wants. (Surprisingly, she will sit still - and even blow on her nails to dry them. This toddler never ceases to amaze me.)

So, now you know the back story. I just thought I'd let y'all know that I'm really not that crazy when I say that I'm trying to avoid a Shane Battier Mom moment.

I realize my own SBM moments may seem like silly, incredibly trivial little issues to worry about... but I wonder if Shane Battier's mom thought that his cornrows were just silly little things that would take care of themselves? Obviously they didn't take care of themselves, and he ended up with some small scars on his head. Evie's not even 2 years old yet- so I'm sure there will be many more opportunities for me to have unfortunate SBM moments in the years to come with both Evie - and her little brother.

And no... don't read between the lines: this post is not a hint that we are naming our baby boy "Shane." You'll still have to wait till November to find out his name. =o)

I'm getting off my soapbox now and will leave you with some pictures of other moments (non-SBM) from this weekend with Evie.

Enjoy.

I don't need a manicure - since my mom makes
me do chores that ruin my nail polish anyways.
(She's attempting to sweep up the mess of seeds
our parrot makes on the basement floor.)

Although she's handy with the Swiffer, Evie's skills don't extend to sweeping... so, the mess just gets spread out more whenever Evie wants to help "sweep."

She prefers to cheer Momma on while
I clean up the basement floor instead.

We asked her what she was cooking in her kitchen...

And she said "penguin."
(Maybe I should worry more about her cooking
her toys or small animals than having a SBM moment.)

Kiss your mom goodbye, you're going in the frying pan!
Fabulous imagination. Seriously.
And no, we don't support eating penguins in our house.

Putting her rally cap on to watch the US women's
team play in the World Cup championship against Japan.

And promptly ignoring the first U.S. goal.

She's still ignoring all the cheering..
and her parents high-five-ing and yelling in excitement.

Once she did start paying attention to the game, we asked her to move back so she wouldn't ruin her eyes being that close to the TV.
She decided her farm animals need to move too - in case their eyes would be damaged from being so close as well.

Can you guys see the screen from here?

She put her rally cap back on to help the U.S. cause, but it was no good...
Japan ended up winning.

Oh, well. She's still young... and there will be plenty more
World Cups for the U.S. to win her lifetime.
(We hope!)

THE LITTLE LION MAN

2011-07-15T11:33:00.010-04:00

The Little Lion Man's room is pretty much finished.

Of course, "Little Lion Man" is not his name, but I've had Mumford & Son's song Little Lion Man stuck in my head for days now. And since we don't an official name for the little fellow yet, I've been thinking of him that way - as my little lion man.

(I'm not even going to attempt to be a musical critic/lyrical interpreter... the song is catchy, but the lyrics are quite Freudian- and I'll leave you to draw your own conclusions on their meaning. I just like the song, okay? Disclaimer: Yes, Gabba, there are a few very naughty words in the song. Don't let it deter you. That's a British folk rock band for ya!)

Our little dude's room.
We decided to keep the nautical theme going. The walls were already blue - and this was the only room we didn't paint upon moving into the house. The beds are actually bunk beds that belonged to Grandaddy Neal and his brother, Uncle Wesley, when they were growing up. The beds got a few coats of paint in Momma's favorite go-to color: Benjamin Moore's Linen White. The stripe on the wall is also in Linen White.

We've often called the framed lithograph in the center of the room our one piece of "real art" in the house. (But now that we have artwork from Cousin Nick, we can say we own two pieces of real art!)

A close-up of the work.

The lithograph was given to us as a wedding present from Mary Ann Rasmussen, wife of the late artist Keith Rasmussen. The lighthouse is the Palmer Island Lighthouse in New Bedford Harbor near New Bedford, Massachusetts. We've never been there, but it's definitely on our list of places to go see someday.

According to lighthouse officials, the lighthouse is not open to the public except by special arrangement (hmm... think we can arrange it sometime?). It can be reached on foot at low tide via the hurricane wall in New Bedford Harbor, and can be seen from the ferry from New Bedford to Cuttyhunk Island.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Forget the lithograph, what about the two pieces of amazing artwork that are flanking it?!"

The dolphin and octopus pieces are one-of-a-kind, folks. You can't get them just anywhere. They were created by Miss Evie and her momma. (Well, mostly by Momma.)

I painted two canvases with a blue flat paint and then used painter's tape to set the area of the stripes. Miss Evie then helped paint the green stripes all by herself - and she might have painted the dining room table and a few other items while she was it. (All part of the creative process, right?!) She also helped apply the fish cutouts and was especially interested in making sure their eyes were in the right locations.

Evie gives her stamp of approval on the room.
After looking at these pictures, I realized I completely forgot to take pictures of the crib. No, we don't expect our infant to hop straight into a big-boy bed. The crib is against the opposite wall, I promise.
The changing table is an old Tennessee dry sink that we found while antiquing a few years ago.

I haven't been happy with any infant mobiles I saw for sale in stores. They were either too plastic-y, too expensive, or just looked unappealing.

So, in addition to one-of-a-kind artwork, the little man got a one-of-a-kind mobile as well. It was incredibly easy to make (minus one or two bad words I muttered when burning myself with the hot glue gun).

Since I knew I wanted to use the four boats I had found a few years ago, it was a pretty easy process: Take ribbons in a variety of colors and draped them over a 14-inch embroidery hoop and attached the boats by the same ribbons.

Something tells me that Row, Row, Row Your Boat
might be a future bedtime lullaby in our house.

Now, I understand y'all may think I've gone overboard with the preparation and "nesting" for this baby. The belly is getting bigger and bigger and that means these kind of things are getting harder to do.

My plan is to do this stuff now, so I can be an absolute bum during the last month (or two!) of pregnancy (you hear that loud-and-clear, Dadda?!).

Although I doubt Evie will ever let anyone be a bum in this house... We pulled out a lot of our infant stuff from the attic this week, and she immediately laid claim to it.

Hey, I remember this thing!

Wait a minute,
it doesn't quite fit like it used to!

HELP! Momma, I'm stuck!!
Baby brother can have it, I don't like it anymore.

So, the new nursery is pretty much complete. But now it's on to organizing the office, which currently looks like an atomic bomb, a cyclone, and lunatic Tasmanian devil decided to lay waste to it all at the same time.

If you don't hear from me within the next week, please feel free to come search for me. I'll probably be buried somewhere under the Halloween decorations, sewing fabrics, old textbooks, and the massive amount of trophies/awards that my stud of a husband earned back in his spearchucker days.

Or I may just be trying on my old prom dresses and laughing at how ridiculous my pregnant shape looks in them. (No pictures, please.)

ANGRY BIRDS WITH UNCLE B

2011-07-11T10:38:00.001-04:00

She shoots.

It's up and away!

Looking for added crowd support.

And.....


She scores!! (Yup, we have another little competitor in the family.)

TWENTY FOR TWENTY

2011-06-28T10:55:00.002-04:00

We're quickly realizing that the days of Evie being our "littlest one" are dwindling.

Each day she reminds us that she is becoming more independent, more mature (well, for a toddler!), more confident in her abilities, and oh-so-opinionated. And each day, Momma's tummy grows bigger.... and bigger... it's a very constant reminder that we'll have another "little one" here soon!

We figured we'd better jot down some of Evie's memorable characteristics as a 20 month old - at least before these memories get archived into the cobwebs of our minds...

Dear Evie:

Your Dadda and I came up with a list of twenty things we want to remember about you just as you are RIGHT NOW. Without further ado, here's our list of your twenty-at-twenty:

(1) You wake up cheering. Literally.

Momma! Momma! clap clap
Momma! Momma! clap clap

Dadda! Dadda! clap clap
E-bie! E-bie!... (yes, you cheer for yourself)
....repeat cheer.....

My theory is this little cheer might be something you do at school to learn fellow students’ names. You are meticulous about chanting our names exactly twice, clapping twice, and then reciting the whole thing over and over till we come to your room. I must admit, being cheered out of bed is the nicest way I could’ve been awakened on an early Saturday morning.

I will not be the least bit surprised when you try out
for the cheerleading squad later in life. I’ll let your dad
worry about the length of those skirts.

(2) You are NOT a very picky eater. You will try anything. When something is sour, you make fabulous faces, perform an “ants in your pants” wiggle, and squirm. But then, you try that same sour thing again just to keep us laughing. You don’t argue with us very often over food and you don’t often make requests for junk food – although I have a feeling this may change in a few years (or even months).

LEMON FACE!

If you’re not hungry, you will just pick at your food. But if you are hungry… watch out! You can eat an adult sized plate when you put your mind to it. We are incredibly lucky that you are a happy eater – and trust me, we know it.

Of course I eat everything you put in front of me, momma -
especially when it's cookies and cream ice cream!

(3) You love ALL animals. You treat your dogs, parrot, and chickens like they are infants that desperately need all your help and attention. You want them to constantly “EAT! EAT!” everything you give to them.

Our two pups put up with a lot of lovin' from you.
And so far, they are happy to receive it.

You love to read books about animals – and although you can’t pronounce all the names, you are an expert on every sound that an animal makes. My two favorites are when you attempt a cat sound and a dolphin sound. For the cat sound, you tip your head to the side in both a shy and flirtatious look, then pull your shoulders up to your ears and sweetly say “Meeeee-ow” with a sly smile. It’s adorable. The dolphin sound usually has jerking your shoulders up and standing at attention while squeaking out “Ehh-ehh, ehh-ehh, ehh-ehh!”
(Runner-up favorite sounds would be the lion, the elephant, and the newly-discovered crazy arm motions that you make when we ask you what an octopus does.)

Lord help us when you finally realize that the
stuff on your dinner plate is made from the same stuff as
your precious babies you take care of in the chicken house.

(4) You are a girlie-girl and tomboy rolled up into one. You like your hair to be fixed. You could care less if it gets messy when playing. You adore having your nails painted. You sling your purse over your arm and throw a dramatic “BYE-BYE!” over your shoulder and walk out the door like a diva on her way to a shopping spree.

Got your purse... and your Viking hat.
What else does a girl really need for a shopping trip?

You gravitate towards hanging with the boys on the playground, since the girls don’t “play” the way you like (which is kind of rough).

Home Depot is your playground.

You’re not afraid to get dirty, but if your hands get so dirty that you can’t see the color of your nails anymore – well, then you let us know it’s time to wash your hands.

"Can I wear makeup today, mom?"
"Nope."

(5) You think “I’m Bringing Home a Baby Bumblebee” and your nightly prayers are the same thing. This is probably my fault, since I tried to teach you both the same week. Halfway through your bedtime prayer, you often pull your hands apart and say “Ouch!” like you just got stung by a bumblebee.

Well, I guess you've been partial to "bees"
since your first day out of the womb!

I think it's the physical act of folding your hands together that confuses you – you either launch into the bumblebee song, or start saying “Ahhh-men!” like you’re ready to pray. You don’t know all the words to your entire bedtime prayer, but you’ve definitely got the “Amen” part down. (See #6)

Someone much more scholarly than me could probably write an insightful sermon on the theological associations between “I’m Bringing Home a Baby Bumblebee” and “Now I lay me down to sleep.” It’s not exactly a straightforward biblical reference, but it could definitely be an inspirational one – considering most everyone has been “stung” while trekking down their own spiritual path. Think on THAT for a while now, will ya?

(6) You are a Nazi about saying “Amen.” Seriously.
When a prayer is concluded, you repeat Amen! very loudly and then make everyone repeat Amen! after you as well. At bedtime, you look at your father and say “Dadda! AMEN!” until he repeats Amen! again for you, and then look at me and say “Mamma! AMEN!” and then I have to repeat it loudly as well… and this request continues as long as anyone else is around to hear it.
You don’t care if God has already heard, received, and acknowledge the prayer… in your eyes, that prayer is not officially over till you are happy with everyone repeating “Amen!” enough times to satisfy you.

(7) You love “babying” your dolls. You have an Ernie doll at school your teacher swaddles in a blanket for you each morning and you carry it with you all day long. You have a rabbit at home that we do the same thing to every night. The rabbit and your "soft-soft" blanket MUST be in bed with you each night, or World War III commences. If you are as sweet to your baby brother as you are to both Ernie and the Rabbit, then we’ll be just fine!

(8) You dance like a hillbilly. Your dance moves aren’t exactly a co-ordinated “Rocky Top” jig, but more of a methodical one-foot stomp accompanied by enthusiastic clapping. Usually, a good beat or something with a fiddle playing gets you really hyped up and dancing.

Your preferred choice in music is all over the place - you love tunes by Justin Bieber, Santana, Adelle, The Rolling Stones, ABBA, Hank Williams Jr, Alabama, and all sorts of Disney songs. Interesting assortment, huh?

(9) Probably like many kids of your generation, you already have an uncanny comprehension of electronics. You can work the iPad better than most adults I know. You have Sesame Street applications, Beatrice Potter and Sandra Boynton books, and interactive fairy tales on the computer that are a nighttime ritual for you. You still love your hard back (real!) books with (actual!) pages, but having the ability to tap a cow with your finger and hear it “MOO!” back certainly entertains you.

You especially like poking Mr. McGregor and
making him grunt and grumble as he chases
Peter Rabbit and Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail
out of his garden.

(10) You avert your eyes when you are scheming about something.You can't look at us directly and will turn your head away, while keeping us in your peripheral vision. It is hilarious. You try so very hard to put on a poker face ("you can't see me if I'm not looking at you!"), but we know exactly what you're thinking. You usually do this when you are trying to figure out a way out of whatever seat/chair/bed you are currently confined or strapped to, but you also break it out when you're trying to get out of trouble...


Did you drink Momma's smoothie? "Nuh-uh." Can you look at me in the eye? "Nuh-uh."

(11) You are a streaker. The minute we take your diaper off, you take off running wildly, freely, uninhibited, and completely ecstatically. You are so very proud of yourself when you are able to escape the horrible confines of your clothes.
But you currently hate taking your shoes and socks off, unless you take them off yourself. Most of the time, we have a nekkid kid running around the house wearing nothing but her cowboy boots.

You give Naked Chef a whole new meaning.

(12) You love playing hide and seek. You hide your clothes, your toys, parts of your body… any object that is small enough for you to “hide” from us and make us try to find. Your favorite object to hide currently is your hand. You conceal it oh-so-stealthily behind your back (well, your arm can only reach so far!) and it is pure comedy when you finally pull it out into view for us to see. You even shock yourself sometimes when you finally pull your hand out - and put on a face that says “WOW! Even I didn’t know it was back there!”

(13) You don't know the difference between a boy and a girl. But you do know the difference between a bull and a cow. Grandaddy Neal is very proud of this.

You've also figured out how to use
Gabba Gabba as your personal horse.

(14) On car rides in Momma's car your usual partner in crime is your "cow."
Funny thing about this cow... well, we really think it's a zebra. Actually, we're not really sure. It has black and white stripes and is quite the amalgamation of both cow and zebra features. If you hear "Old MacDonald Has a Farm," you immediately request "cow!" in order to have him help you sing along.


Evie has a discovered a new species: the ZOW! Zebra? Cow? Whatever makes you happy, kiddo.

(15) You have the best smile. I probably shouldn't tell you how much trouble you've already gotten out of in your short life just because you batted those big blue eyes and flashed a big smile at us.

Get out of jail free face.
Not a fair trial by jury, kiddo.

(16) You are the meal time commander-in-chief, manager, hostess, and drill sergeant. I don't think we'll ever have a problem convincing you to have a family meal together.

If you are the only one sitting at the table when dinner is served, you immediately start barking orders at us: "Dadda, SIT!" and "Momma, EAT!" - and you are not happy until we assume our positions in our seats beside you.

Nobody gets between me and my 'yo-yurt.'

(17) You are fabulous at poo-pooing on the potty (when we remember to ask you at the appropriate time.)
But going Number 1? Not so much. You have tinkled on the back porch or out in the yard more than you have gone in that dang toilet! (yup, you're quite the civilized little thing.) We aren't pushing you to be potty trained immediately- since we realize the earlier you start, the longer it takes. We usually bribe you with gummy bear vitamins and an episode of Elmo to get you to park your little backside on your toddler toilet for an extended sit-and-stay session.

A game of potty golf can also keep your attention.

We're keeping our fingers crossed that you don't revert to full-time diapers once your little brother gets here. I think the "Diaper Fairy" is going to come soon after the new baby gets here and take all your diapers away to "other babies who need them."
Pull-ups and underwear are for big girls!

(18) You think you are Michael Phelps. You are a full blown water-baby. You adore the swimming pool, the ocean, your green turtle filled with water in the backyard, the bathtub/shower, and any game that involves water or being sprayed by water. You are not in swim lessons yet, but Momma and Dadda have been teaching you a thing or two every time we go to the pool.

Pure bliss.

(19) Fortunately, I think we've avoided the dreaded toddler word... "MINE!"

Instead, your preferred method of "sassy-ness" is to give us a very serious finger wag and say "NO, NO, No, no.... NO!" with a stern look on your face. When you give us the finger wag, you are usually reprimanding us for taking a toy away from you, doing something you don't want us to do, or just attempting to establish your authority over every aspect of our lives. (you do this a lot.)

I think you learned it from Stephen Colbert.

(20) We honestly think you will be a wonderful big sister. You adore babies (no matter the species) and you are incredibly tender to any animal or child that is younger or smaller than you.

Can you hear me, baby brother?
I can hear you!

Then again, if baby brother tries to take your Elmo doll, your bunny rabbit, or your cow... we may need to stock up on the Band-Aids.

Happy 20 Months, little lady.