PALMATION NATION

FWENDS

2012-01-19T14:26:00.000-08:00

I really have no business blogging right now. I've been a complete failure of a mother today. Which means I pretty much parked my two babes in front of the TV all day, and made a bunch of false promises about doing fun things "in a few minutes," with every intention of surfing the net instead. My children have been completely revolting, behaving like little neanderthals out of attention-seeking boredom. And here it's dinner time and the last two times Leah has told me she's hungry, I've sent her off to dig another pack of fruit snacks out of my purse.

But it can't be helped. I'm in a funk. A post Totally Awesome Weekend funk. And I blame you. No, not you. YOU. And by YOU, I mean YOU, Mimi and Carina! You know what you did! And now I'm gonna tell everybody!

Truth is, they came to visit for the long weekend. And we had a glorious time. And then, they got all selfish and went home. And ever since, I've been sniffling and slobbering and wallowing in our sandbox.

But, because I am such an emotionally sound person, I'm going to write through the pain and soldier on. Because I know you can't wait to know what we did during our weekend of blissful delirium.

It all started last week when, after a four hour staring contest, Sam and I were feeling a little bored and dissatisfied with each other. So we sent up a smoke signal. And the Bischoffs and Snows answered the call.

You might think we'd be afraid to cram 6 adults and 7 kids (including 3 babies) into a two bedroom apartment. Or that we let minor details like not having enough beds or enough room to avoid awkward cross-spousal underwear sightings keep us from congregating in Hoboken. But you'd be wrong. Because we don't let stupid things like that come between us. And we secretly like those cross-spousal underwear sightings. Oh, Carina! Stop pretending it's only ME who likes them! Grow up!

Ahem. Guess I should post a picture before this post gets too self-indulgent...

The Matriarchs. All ready for church.

And our men and baby spawn.

It was really cold... so, truthfully, we only ventured outside a few times. Mostly we just ate. There was a lot of eating going on.

These babies kept busy trying to assert dominance over each other. And Baby Jude enjoyed two sexy older ladies at his disposal all weekend.

Skylee and Eve both pulled all nighters on Saturday night. It was a real hoot, I tell ya! Everybody loved it! Personally I think it was all orchestrated by baby Jude.

We did brave the cold to visit the waterfront.

Tiny Tuna loves the cold... This was my view into the ergobaby for the duration.

My favorite part of the whole trip was a rather spirited poker game. Mimi was ready to tear shiz up. And she did.

My poker face confounds even the most seasoned poker players.

It's really this part of it that's the real money maker. They can't tell what I'm thinking. Totally throws um off.

Interestingly, this is the very face Sam and I share to signal the beginning of our mating ritual.

And of course we peed ourselves laughing all night.

The Turkey Sub is still perfecting her super hero stance. But I think it's pretty much how batman stands.

Yeah. I'd say that's about right.

The Bischoffs ventured home on Monday and Mimi's hub, Matt, headed off to some business meetings he arranged in Philly, so Mimi and I had the day all alone to paint the town. SO, we went to the park in the arctic weather and chattered and huddled together while the kids played. Our love kept us warm.

And Sam shot Tiny Tuna down the slide a few times. Which increased my quality of life three-fold.

There's no excuse for her.

I think I may print this one off and hang it with my family photos.

See? Made for each other.

Oh Mimi and Carina. Thank you for traveling all the way from Buffalo and Michigan! Now come back to me! And bring your husbands, too. Because, although he won't admit it publicly, Sam's been crying himself to sleep at night. And I caught him carving S+L+M=LOVE on the little walnut tree in front of our building.

Don't tell anyone.

Just come back.

2011 Finale!

2012-01-05T15:31:00.000-08:00

The end of 2011 was pretty much picture perfect for me. One of the pluses to not traveling to my family for the holidays is that I undertake enough festivity responsibility to avoid turning into a grotesque, fat slob. Which is precisely what happens whenever my mom is around and I shift instantaneously into "daughter" mode, and pretty much give "wife/mother" mode the bird. It's not pretty. And generally results in my developing a bedsore or two.

And so! While I missed my family terribly this Christmas, I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy about our little Palmer family holiday fiesta this year. And now I'm going to tell you all about it.

I'll start where I left off after my last post. Here goes!

We, of course, had to decorate gingerbread houses. But don't go thinking we do the homemade kind... or the graham cracker kind. No. Not us. We like things nice and commercial. The Turkey Sub was elated with her creation...

...and don't think I'm so anal that her placement of that rogue peppermint wheel right there bothered me at all. Don't you go thinkin' for one second that I was sittin' there all patient-like, smilin' like a robot, watchin' her chubby little hand blob that frosting right there in the center of things, where it don't belong. Don't you go spreadin' it around town that the whole time I was feelin' my brain turnin' into psycho stew, wantin' to pry that off-centered, ill-advised little candy right out of her cold, dead, fingers! Cause I'm way too laid back for that. And don't think I wasn't saying this whole caption in a thick, southern accent in my head the whole time I was typing just now...

You may remember, Sam takes his BGH decorating seriously. Which is why he nearly blew a gasket when, shortly after beginning his assembly, he noticed several of his house pieces were broken. He spent no less than 45 minutes, puzzling them back together with his trusty frosting glue gun bag. Poor little Sam... just lovin' those ginger bread houses... carryin' that little bag of frosting glue wherever he goes...

I've been a little miffed that we didn't get any snow this holiday season. As an Idaho girl, I like my Christmas's nice and white. But, the warmer-than-normal temperatures did make for some splendid park outings.

If you can believe it, I didn't actually take any pictures on Christmas morning. Sam was videoing, basically, the entire time. And as tempting as it was to upload a 45 minute video for your viewing pleasure, I'm going to practice a little self-restraint. But let's just say it was awesome. And my heart grew three sizes watching Leah bludgeon Eve at the slightest provocation, in what can only be described as Christmas-loot-psychosis.

Later that day we loaded up the car and headed off to Virginia to visit Sam's brother, Joe, and his family. And I gained 15lbs. Because my sister-in-law, Heather, is a gormet chef (seriously, visit her food blog, you'll die) and lover of all things delicious. And so we feasted. And were satisfied.

We did take a few short breaks from eating to go to the park...

These two little dears were inseparable the whole time. Palmer girls have to stick together, you see. On Sam's side there are approximately 764 boy cousins... and just four itty bitty girl cousins. Maggie, here, was the female pioneer. Leah was second. They luff each other.

And now prepare yourself for 47 photos of Eve at slightly different angles. I am obsessed with her...

Tiny Tuna and little Sammy Jr... Heather and Joe like to pretend he wasn't named specifically after Sam, but I can see it in their eyes... he definitely was.

Sizing each other up... seconds before they broke out in violent breakdance fighting.

The breakdance fighting joke just never seems to get old.

The sweet taste of victory...

Maybe defeat?

I burst into song every time I see this photo. It can't be helped.

Palmer men take their games seriously. Turns out Sam dropped the ball.

Perhaps you didn't notice the tennis ball whizzing towards his back? This was taken directly before they stripped him down and whipped him with reeds. And smeared his face in dog poop. It was a real kick in the pants to watch!

This is my favorite picture of the whole trip. I remember when I was little, and spotting an adult lying helplessly on the ground was like striking gold--most comfortable seat in the house. I know this to be particularly true of Sam, as this is my position of choice for our nightly four hours of TV watching.

I am feeling especially lame that I didn't get any pictures of the adults together, but it was a most excellent visit, culminating in Heather sending us on our way with a tupperware full of homemade chicken tikka masala and caramels. Who does that? JEALOUS?? Thought so!

After Virginia we spent a few days at home bingeing on lindor truffles and Masterpiece Theater literary adaptations... including Wuthering Heights. Have you seen that version? Good grief, my heart is still aching. And there's a small chance I find myself calling to Cathy in the night... And Sam may or may not have shouted at me in a whisper last night that he'd had enough of me referencing it and that I was starting to freak him out.

(Love you Heathcliff!!!)

Ahem.

And there was also a little of this:

Let's be honest, there was a lot of that.

And a few parties to attend.

On New Year's Eve we headed to Connecticut to visit another of Sam's brothers and his family for their new baby's blessing.

But not without a little stop at the Stamford Maritime Aquarium.

This right here, my friends, is Leah's "Princess Face." It appears when, and only when, I tell her to smile like a princess. Oh, Leah Lou... so much to learn about the world...

It was here, at the deep ocean exhibit that the Turkey Sub shouted out, "I wanna fry that one up for dinner!" every time one of the large tunas swam by. It was a proud moment for all involved, though Tiny Tuna didn't approve.

Outside for seal feeding time. Guess what I said to Leah right before I took this picture?

If you guessed, "Leah! Smile like a princess!" you'd be right.

Only photo evidence that I was there. Yikes.

At the stingray touch pool.

When I tried to coax Sam to touch them he replied, and I quote, "I only like to touch furry mammals. Like you." He's always known just what to say to make me feel sexy.

They randomly had this meercat exhibit with this bulb thing in the middle for kids to get right in on the action. Leah was over the moon, singing and twirling and squealing, and I'll just say it, the crowd was waaay more enraptured watching her than those little rodents...

...until some smaller children tried to join her and she ended up oafing around and nearly stomping them all to death in her blissful delirium. Then things at the meercat exhibit turned a little sour...

After the aquarium, we went to CPK for a much needed chain restaurant dinner. Think I let having a baby slow me down and keep me from staying out late? Think again, beyotches!

Just kidding. This was just a freak stroke of blind luck. But for a minute it made me feel like one of those annoying I'm so awesome I rock climb with my newborn strapped to my butt! kind of people. Thought I'd make you all think I was one of them.

After dinner we headed to our hotel for some swimming and a movie. And perhaps I fell asleep at 8PM and Sam rang in the New Year with some creepers he met down at the bar. Or maybe he just watched me sleep, all bug-eyed and breathing heavy.

Oh, and I'm happy to report that not once, but THRICE our room was accosted by knocking drunkards in the middle of the night. They were undeterred by our ignoring them, too. Just kept on knocking away, those cute little drunks. Til' Sam flung the door open in a sleepy-rage-filled stupor and made them pee themselves a little sooner than they should have that night. Guess that's what you get for staying in a hotel on NYE.

Think this tale is over? Think I'm done yet!? Forget it!

The next morning we made the rest of our 2 hour journey to New Haven for the baby blessing. It was a glorious, albeit short, little jaunt. And I'm kicking myself now for not taking any pictures with my own camera. Still waiting on them. So, the gajillion photos I've posted in this post thus far will have to suffice your monstrous appetite. Stop being so greedy!

Oh, Holiday Season of 2011, you were good to us. Reeaaal good. And I think, after such eating and drinking and being merry, this picture of Eve sums up the way we're all feeling just perfectly.

Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! Bless us! Everyone!

Christmas 2011 Thus Far...

2011-12-12T09:00:00.000-08:00

I know you've all been waiting with baited breath for a little "what we've been up to" post. Don't deny it. I know it's pretty much all you've been able to think about this holiday season. And I'm here to deliver!

We'll start with our most exciting news.

Guess who I saw shopping at the mall the other day?

You can't tell?

It may or may not be Melissa Gorga and her daughter being run down by a super creepy stalker... like me. Don't know who Melissa Gorga is? Well aren't you just toooo classy for Bravo TV! You think you're better than me?!

No, really, congratulations. You might be a little bit better...

Sadly, this is the only picture I got, because after I sniffed her out at Guess and started to ask her for a picture, my darling three year old bolted. And because I'm totally selfless and a super good mom, I ran after her. The things I do...

Turns out Leah's bolting was due to a little celebrity sighting of her own. Ladies and gents, the Christmas Ice Princess:

I'd say there's a pretty good chance this particular princess moonlights as a professional wrestler.

Think the Turkey Sub was phased by her deep voice and casino-esque aroma? Not a chance.

Jersey-style princesses, we love you.

We also love Macy's. Because on Friday we ventured into Manhattan to Macy's "Santa Land" to meet the man himself. And because I was so enraptured by the general splendor, I only took three photos...

Eve was completely hypnotized by Santa.

She appreciates luscious facial hair. Makes her feel all cozy and taken care of. What can I say? It's in her blood.

Leah, on the other hand, was a little put off by that crook-eye. But not so much so that she didn't go ahead and ask for a swimming pool.

There's no photo evidence of Leah's Santa visit because, well, I was sitting with her... and somehow my gut magically spilled over the top of my jeans and emerged out from under my shirt. It was a real Christmas miracle.

After Santa gave us the boot, Sam left work and met up with us at the Miracle on 34th Street Puppet Show. I dare say it's the cutest little Christmas tradition there ever was. There were no photos allowed during the show, but here's the Turkey Sub and Tiny Tuna waiting for it to start.

And finally, Saturday night we had our ward Christmas party. Sam and I both have a weird phobia about asking people to take pictures of us. There's no excuse for it. And we're getting help. But I just wanted you all to appreciate what a real victory this photo is.

Meet CrazyEyesMcBigface...

The primary, of course, reenacted the Nativity. Leah and her friends made their acting debuts as sheep. The special effects were seriously mind blowing.

The best part was that during the songs, Leah baaah-ed along in tune, pretty much louder than the ensemble as a whole.

The entire cast.

It was a glorious night, indeed.

Thanks for reading.

JCC

2011-12-01T08:53:00.000-08:00

Last year on this day, I was in a major postpartum haze. It was actually my first day at home after Eve's birth. My mom was in town, worrying sick about my dad, who was all by himself in Idaho. And we all sort of just moved around our apartment as if under water, trying to process our feelings in different ways.

Today, a lot of things in my life are different. Almost everything, in fact. Except I still sort of have that underwater feeling. Two years ago today, my brother passed away.

I woke up last night remembering this photo of Jesse and me. I'd completely forgotten about it, but in the middle of the night it was etched in my brain. I've gone through all of my pictures, time and time again, cataloging and organizing any with Jesse in them. But not this picture. I hadn't seen this picture in years. How could I have forgotten about it? How could I have missed it? I felt immediately panicked that I'd lost it. I got out of bed and pulled my photo boxes out of my closet, and miraculously, there it was... a gift, a treasure reserved specifically for this day.

This was taken in Phoenix over Christmas my freshmen year in college. I remember something obnoxious going on... most likely a love-handle pinching. This is the Jesse we all get a gut-check remembering. The one that we ache for our babies to know.

Death is such an individual ordeal. Everyone handles it so differently. I've experienced the bittersweet passing of three of my grandparents and I can certainly say, those deaths felt nothing like Jesse's. Jesse's death left a wake of extreme and strange feelings. Feelings I'd never dealt with before. They're still there, I think I'm just more used to them now.

I have always been able to envision my wearied grandparents, freed from their fallen bodies, racing towards the Savior in a glorious reunion, relieved to be finished with their sojourn on this earth. I knew they had lived good lives. I knew the Savior could look at them and say, "Well done, my good and faithful servant. Well done." How happy they all must have been.

I've envisioned this same reunion for my brother hundreds of times. In my darkest moments since his death, I've clung desperately to it. At times it has made me sad--like, I wish I could have been there with him to explain it all. As if Jesse's estrangement from the Savior in this life could have possibly caused unease between the two of them, and that he would have needed me or my family there with him to make it all more comfortable.

But then Heavenly Father reminds me to get real. To get over myself. To shake off the immature and limited scope of my mortal mind and remember, with surety, that no time spent during Jesse's life here on earth has ever brought him more comfort or relief than that of his blessed reunion with the Savior.

In these two years, that is what I have come to know most. Jesse is happy. More happy than he has ever been. More happy than I have ever been. He is not lonely. He is not unsure. He is the very best of the Jesse I knew and more than I can begin to imagine.

And when I see him again, he'll most certainly try to pinch my love handles.

Eve Sophia... A Year in a Dream.

2011-11-28T14:51:00.000-08:00

Today is a most spectacular day! Exactly one year ago, at this very minute, I was rolling around, floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee, waiting for the tiny little tuna camped out in my tummy to come out and join our family. You can read that harrowing tale (about an evil midwife who sabotaged the fair maiden's chances for an epidural) here.

You came to the world itty and perfect. Just 6 lbs, 7 ounces with exactly four hairs on your little melon head... Today you are still perfect but not so tiny, weighing in at a hearty 24 lbs. Hair count up to 37. You have one, half-emerged, razor sharp, bottom tooth and two, almost-there, top teeth. You have big, pillowy lips, dark brown eyes, one dimple, and ample junk in the trunk. And right now, you are sitting next to me, showing a mighty-mini popsicle who's boss (it is your birthday, afterall). In fact, here is a picture of you at this very minute.

Oh, Baby Eve. You are such a squishable little heff, I can hardly contain myself around you. And I can hardly believe you are already one year old. There are so many things about your one-year-old self that astound, baffle and entertain me. I spend a great majority of the time I spend with you wheezing and snorting and chuckling away in amusement... and surfing the net. J/K. We spend a lot of time watching TV, too! J/K again. Kinda.

Ahem.

At the ripe age of ONE, you should know (in case it ever changes) that you are completely obsessed with your elder sister. You think everything she does is, like, the best thing ever. Even though she abuses you. It appears you have a full on case of abused wife syndrome. Cause you can't get enough. You've got the feva... and the only cure is more Leah. In fact, I get so annoyed and claustrophobic for you putting up with Leah's antics without standing up for yourself that I will, at times, strategically place you in prime "pulling Leah's hair" position, and then turn a blind eye to the chaos that ensues. I can't help it. And you're welcome.

See? See how much you love her?

I even catch some of your sisterly dynamic on film sometimes...

Your crush on Leah is problematic for me at times. Every time she gets in trouble, generally for pushing you down or some other unmentionable, you look at me with as much betrayal in your eyes as you can muster and shout around, trying to rescue Leah from "time out." This happens when your dad tucks Leah in at night as well. You feel utterly distraught and left out.

You hate baths. HATE them. Unless, of course, Leah joins you. Then all is well in the world. This vexes me greatly because, well, sometimes I don't have the energy to wash all of her hair.

Should Leah ever be in the bath alone, you lean over the tub, swatting at the water while she douses you in the face over and over. And you just take it. Because you're a good sister.

I can say proudly that you will sit and watch an entire episode of "Blue's Clues," which, in case you didn't know, is highly impressive for someone your age. I think that little dog speaks your language.

You shriek and slap my legs until I pick you up and then immediately put one pointy finger into the palm of the opposite hand to "mark it with a B." This means you want me to sing Patty Cake, and if I don't comply immediately, you begin swatting my face until you've beaten me into submission. Overall it's a very violent process, that patty cake. You would do it all day long if you could.

You love your daddy and squeal and screech and lurch across the room to him when he gets home from work. You especially love when he spends quality time teaching you important life lessons, like how to beat the final level of Angry Birds.

For your big day we took you to see, "Disney on Ice." Which was completely for you and not at all for your stinky big sister. I promise.

You clapped along with the crowd and shouted, "Oooo! Oooo!" when something spectacular happened and were a most excellent spectator... until the last half hour wherein you became disenchanted with all things princessey and attempted to ruin the rest of the show with heckling and foul language. This was remedied by inducing you into a good ol' fashioned cottoncandycoma.

And then we dined. And you stuffed your face with french fries to your little heart's content. And Leah's face melted into her neck...

Really, there's no excuse for Leah in this photo. Never seen anything like it in all my life.

Your very favorite of all of your birthday gifts this year was this magical contraption:

And, perhaps most importantly, people tell me all the time that you look exactly like me. 'Specially when I was a little, fat cherub. Which, of course, makes me love you above all...

Oh little Eve Sophia, I wish I could give you the world today. I'm so lucky to be your mama. Happy, Happy Birthday Teeny Tiny Tuna!

Guess What I'm Gonna Post About?

2011-11-02T12:13:00.000-07:00

If you guessed Halloween you're absofreakinglutely right! Oh, Hallow's Eve, how I love you... for you created this:

That right there is a candy-crazed superhero princess. Is it weird to want to call your three-year-old little girl a bad-A? Cause I do. And she is.

This moment was captured by my friend, Halley, at the kickoff of our Halloween festivities last Friday. The m&m's (mamas and munchkins) got together and decorated cookies and chatted... and played spin the bottle.

Our brood...

Little Eve woke up and joined the party once we got inside and out of the cold. She was feeling super festive...

It was a glorious morning, indeed.

The next day we suited up for the ward Halloween Party. Every year I have complete visions of grandeur about Halloween and my plans for the most amazing costume ever! And then every year I don't end up even dressing up. At all. I blame this on the fact that I'm pretty sure I operate at about 30% of where all other moms operate... but at least Leah looked squishable.

Posing in the hallway on the way out... after no less than a 35 minute wrestling/pleading/berating match about me wanting her to wear black boots instead of brown. Guess who won?

She'll regret it one day. Mark my words. She's gonna regret the brown boots of Halloween 2011.

Other than a shameful amount of chili consumption, the ward party was pretty ummm...mellow. So we didn't really take any pictures. And I actually wrote "lame" instead of "mellow" when I first wrote that sentence. But I was just kidding.

Truth is, I was feeling a little run down (remember the me running at 30% of everyone else part?) so I've got no one to blame but myself. Cause I was probably only running at about 20% at the party... which would pretty much mean laying flat on your face for anyone else.

We did manage to get outta there before having to help clean up so that was cool.

I should mention, for documentation sake, that we got slammed with a rogue snow storm on Saturday that left the whole tri-state area in a declared state of emergency. We were delighted when we went to turn our heater on for the first time and it sputtered and coughed and swore at us but failed to produce any heat. We spent the whole day chattering and trembling and huddled under blankets. Nearly lost our lives to exposure and typhoid fever.

'Cept for Leah...

...she seized the day and brought us back a squirrel to eat.

By Monday all the snow was gone and it had heated up to a toasty 58 degrees so we set off for the Hoboken Halloween Raggamuffin Parade. Does that not sound like the cutest Halloween festivity ever? It is. It's a parade down the main street of Hoboken where all the little ones in town march along together, along with some excellent floats and marching bands, etc. And then all the businesses along Washington street pass out candy for trick or treating. It was most excellent.

Some little Raggamuffins of our own... and me.

The beginning of the parade... right before we jumped in.

Leah was smitten with one marching band member in particular, the tuba player. She was overjoyed clomping along, trying to trip him.

Then we hopped out of the parade to collect some loot.

This little gem was taken by accident when I was putting my camera away. Love the sneak attack it captured.

The Turkey Sub and Tiny Tuna looking delectable.

Leah couldn't be contained. This was pretty much my view the entire time. I luffed it.

And after some extensive elbow throwing to collect a sufficient amount of sugar, we headed home.

So Leah could let her hair down, drink some hot chocolate....

...and Eve could get back to work on her ipad...

I will say, having a child who is old enough to actually enjoy and get involved in Halloween makes an already magical day one thousand times better. I dare say this was my very favorite Halloween yet.

A Tale of Two Sissies..

2011-10-09T17:42:00.000-07:00

So, I've spent the last 5 days staring at the wall in the dark, consumed by bouts of profanity and ugly-face crying... and pant-peeing. If you know me at all, you know that there are only a few things in this world that can produce this sort of behavior in me. That's right, you guessed it... my sisters came to visit. And on Sunday, they left... sending me spiraling into the bog of eternal stench.

It was a dark and dreary Wednesday night when I got a phone call announcing the arrival of this beauty:

Just look at 'er in all her glory, holding my eldest child in her arms, sunglasses slightly ajar from the headbutting she'd just received at Leah's hand...

Upon opening the door and after an appropriate amount of hugging and kissing and squealing, Bethany said, "Oh my gosh, Nessa, there are some tiny kittens over here on the corner! They're all alone!"

Of course I immediately started purring and kneading and licking myself, and charged out into the night to rescue them... I've been prepared to answer the call of "mama cat" for some time now, you see. Luckily I'm already lactating, I thought.

I could hear tiny "meows" from the bushes. "They're meowing! I hear them!" I shouted.

And just as I turned the corner, a bewitched mass of blankets and garbage came springing from the bushes, screeching and slobbering and belching like a rabid, angry cat.

I wet my pants on the spot. I let out a guttural, primal scream and braced myself for combat. And then suddenly, all my fears melted into blissful delirium as, from out of the dark night and garbage, a tiny face emerged... not the face of a kitten, but of this beauty:

Pictured here, holding my second babe at Trinity Church.

Meradith had flown out in secret to surprise me. Which is the oldest trick in the Collard Family Book of Tricks, Second Edition. But never fails to delight peoples and nations all over the world. But mostly just me.

The very best part of it all is that Sam was out of town on business... so we called up some dudes to watch a movie.

No. No, we didn't. But we did feel like we were getting away with something crazy just being there all together without any of our better halves.

Now, here's what we did!

The first morning, Bethany and I set off on a mission to make it onto an episode of Cake Boss at Carlo's Bake Shop here in Hoboken. We were prepared to go all Mardi gras if we had to. We were going to get some camera time. At present, Mera is baking her third bun in the oven, so she stayed home to get some much needed rest away from her munchkins.

Anyway, Bethany and I walked to the bakery and were delighted to see there were only about ten people in line in front. What luck! We congratulated ourselves on our superior timing and intellect (and looks) and got in line. And then the little wench policing the front of the shop gave us the boot to the back of the "real" line, which was one block down and made up of about a million poor saps who, by the looks on their faces, had had their hopes dashed to the ground as well.

We were undeterred. See how happy we were?

And so we waited... for 3 hours... to get our wee lit'l box o' cannolis.

And we feasted. And were satisfied...

Though I nearly went on a murderous rampage after standing for that long on the sidewalk with my children.

On the ferry on our way into the big city for a girl's night out. Beauties.

We found this cute little hole in the wall in Times Square to eat... so quaint.

Especially that creeper that shimmied his way into our photo at the last minute. So startling.

The real highlight of the evening was when, while we were looking at a table full of handbags on the street, the vendor, we'll call her Bag Lady, pointed at me and said in broken english, "she is not so beautiful." And then she pointed at Meradith and said, "and she is not so beautiful." And then she pointed at Bethany and said, "She is most beautiful."

It was a good sales strategy on her part... I chucked the bag I was contemplating back on the table and stormed off. Then I slapped Bethany across the face.

No, really. We all just stood there awkwardly for a second digesting what she said and then burst into laughter. And then we really did chuck the bags back in her face. Except Bethany. She bought one.

Matching sister pedicure... if you're trying to guess which foot is mine, it's whichever one you think is cutest.

This is, perhaps, my very favorite photo of the trip... there's just so many things I love about it. My face, and Leah's shades. But mostly how thick my neck looks.

What you see here is actually me telling Sam to put the camera away. Because just as he started taking pictures, a voice came booming over the subway loudspeaker saying, "ABSOLUTELY NO PHOTOGRAPHY ALLOWED IN THE SUBWAY STATION." And because I was the only one who actually tuned in to what the guy was saying, I started shouting at Sam that he couldn't take pictures. But he couldn't hear me over "the voice." So he just kept on snapping. And it went on so long that "the voice" ended up being like, "Ummm helllooooo! Dude with the camera! Stop taking pictures!" And then we all started laughing and pointing at "the voice" and then we took a picture of it.

My four favorite ladies on earth. At Trinity Church.

Eve was happy to get out of the ergobaby to stretch her gams...

And then I got completely tapped out lugging my kids around NYC so I abandoned taking pictures all together. But you better believe we did some pretty crazy shiz. And Meradith may or may not have gotten bashed in the head by a rogue, ill-anchored wall hanging at a Subway sandwich shop. But just maybe.

It was a most glorious trip.

Oh sissydoodles. How can you expect me to ever look at my new home with anything but disdain and disappointment after I've beheld it under the glow of your beauty? How can you expect me to go on living when I know that since you've left, my life has no where to go but down?

Now I have no choice but to go and pick a fight with Sam to lift my spirits...

The Turkey Sub Goes to School...

2011-09-14T07:09:00.000-07:00

Today was Leah Mae's very first day of preschool. Just look at our little peach.

See that little yellow t-shirt she's wearing? That frumpy little school shirt? Well, I've been feeling all curmudgeonly today because, after attending the preschool open house, Sam instructed me, very explicitly I might add, that Leah was supposed to wear her school t-shirt on the first day of class. He rattled off this entire detailed explanation about how the teachers use them to keep track of the three year olds until they really get to know their class. Makes sense.... So, I begrudgingly dressed Leah for the first day in her class duds and strolled off to school. And guess who wasn't wearing their class t-shirts? Everybody else. Oh, except her teacher. She was wearing one, too. Poor Leah Lou. Twinners on the very first day with the teacher! I mean, talk about social suicide. As for Sam's instructions, well, they were apparently just part of some pipe dream he conjured up...

Can I just be completely honest for a second here and say that preschool sortof creeps me out? Cause it does. In a tiny, itty-bitty way. I think it's because everything is so warm and fuzzy that I feel like it's a little twilight zoney and can't possibly be real. For the most part, the over-the-top fuzz suits my fancy just fine, and I find myself getting sucked in and becoming the cheesiest mom on the block... but a small part of me feels all suspect and shifty about it.

I think I blame Ms. Lippy:

Don't pretend you don't know exactly what I'm talking about.

Her school is a precious little Christian academy that starts each day with a 20 minute "worship" in the form of singing, bible-ing and praying. Parents are invited to stay and participate and I'm happy to report that Leah tried to take over the entire event. I struggled to keep her in line for the first ten minutes, juggling baby Eve and getting all beet red and sweaty, and then the teacher looked over and gave her some jedi-mind-trick head-nod and Leah's eyes glazed over and she returned instantly to her seat for the duration. I think she's gonna do just fine.

Anyway! Here's the bell of the ball when I picked her up. She was over the moon to see me. For about 5 seconds. And then she realized I was there to take her away from school and I instantly became public enemy numero uno. I couldn't have been happier.

I luff her.

This Girl...

2011-09-01T12:03:00.000-07:00

.... is 9 months old today (well, technically like 5 days ago when I started this post) and I realized that I have been absolutely terrible at documenting her little life. I was much better with Leah... poor second child. But, as most of you moms out there know, your documentation motivation goes the way of the birds with two chillins runnin' the house. So anyway, as I sit here this very moment, hand-fighting my cherubic little darling to keep her away from the Baby Eve cat nip that is my laptop, I wanted to share a bit about the one, the only, Teeny Tiny Tuna.

Firstly, Sam's cousin (and best friend), Kent, stopped by our house while he was in the city on business. Upon seeing Eve for the first time he said, "Whoa, she looks like the baby from that show 'Dinosaurs.'" I thought this was mildly amusing at the time. But then I google-imaged that baby dino and laughed for a good half hour...

...because he does, indeed, look just like Baby Eve. And then I texted the picture around to all my family and took credit for Kent's joke.

I'm fairly certain, if given the chance, Eve would, as well, take a pan to Sam's head yelling, "Not da mama! Not da mama!" She loves me. What can I say?

Baby Eve has been an interesting baby. I use the word interesting because that's the word my mom uses to describe someone she really wants to say something bad about. Now, hold your horses before you start thinking I'm all heartless and rude for calling Eve interesting. I only say it because she has, well, been relatively stoic and fairly unimpressed with anyone and anything since her birth. And she had colic for 5 months. Which I still haven't forgiven her for.

BUT! I will say that our Tiny Tuna makes me all gushy and fuzzy and melty inside and I hold her and squeeze her and kiss her all day long because she is the squishiest squish that ever lived.

She sleeps with me every night. But she's a real tyrant about it. She does not want me to snuggle her, nor does she want to share my blanket. She wants to regulate the touching, and, while she makes sure to have a fat little hand or foot or arm touching me at all times, she threatens to awaken the house with some shrill bellering if I try to touch her. She's very domineering this way. Most nights I end up with my head at the foot of the bed and Eve somewhere between my legs. This arrangement has caused some dissension in my marriage... but I figure it's worth it because I know my littles will only babies once and I'm pretty sure that my teen-aged Baby Eve won't be snuggling up between her dad and me every night.

She has a love/hate relationship with her elder sister. This is primarily because Leah causes Eve's life to be one of almost constant anxiety and uncertainty. This video pretty much sums it up...

(forgive the poor quality)

She's recently discovered her voice works for things other than screaming at me and she tunes in attentively to any show that Leah is watching and shouts around at it...

And this happens no less than 15 times a day...

Like a lamb to the slaughter, poor little Eve ... But I love that Leah's already trying to leave me out...

Somedays I can't believe how huge she's getting and I wonder if I look like a freak when people see me nursing this full grown human. Until I see her next to her behemoth sister.

Each and every time I am nursing her, she spends the duration trying to get her fat little finger up my nose. Like, the entire time. And sometimes, when I'm not on top of my game, I let her.

She has recently started having opinions about which toys she wants to play with, much to Leah's chagrin, and screeches and swats around violently, or latches on to Leah's hair, when Leah tries to take things from her. This is secretly very satisfying to watch.

Hmmm... what else. Oh, yesterday I discovered three leaves in her diaper. THREE. I'm not sure when she had access to these leaves, unattended, for enough time to actually ingest them, but we'll settle on it being her dad's fault. The good news is, they didn't even phase her so she apparently has the gut of a small cow.

And finally, she is so freaking cute--so delectable in every way that I spend a good amount of my day trying to restrain the urge to pummel her... or slam her against the wall... or sit on her. Yes, these are the urges I have when I see cute things. Lock up your children... and puppies... and husbands.

Oh Baby Eve. Don't get any bigger. Stay exactly the way you are right now and I'll be happy forever. Well, I guess you could start sleeping better. And feeding yourself. And changing your own diapers. But other than that...

Post on Random Tangentry, Folks!

2011-08-24T13:31:00.000-07:00

http://randomtangentry.blogspot.com/2011/08/you-think-youre-better-than-me.html

The Dangers of PMS-posting...

2011-08-15T10:54:00.000-07:00

Well folks, we've been here for 27 days now... 27 days too many. Just kidding.

But seriously.

No, no I really am kidding. The truth is, everything here has been great and wonderful and blah blah blah. BUT, I sorta feel like I'm just not in the mood for it all. I think that sometimes in life you feel really enthused and geared up for exploring a new place and making new friends and shaking things up a bit... and then sometimes you don't. And right now, I don't. So I've just been trying to fake it till I make it.

But I'll make it, people! Don't go spreadin' rumors about me! Don't go tellin' yer friends I'm depressed and hatin' life! Cause I ain't!

Maybe I am, a little bit. But I don't really want anyone to know so I'm only telling you.

Just now, just the very moment I was pecking out that last sentence, a little puppet on Jack's Big Music Show sang these words....

Well I'm a sad, sad squirrel.

I just moved here,

from my farm

where I wasn't sad,

I was mostly glad.

But I miss my friends

and I miss my farm,

so I'm a sad, sad squirrel.

Oh, little squirrel. Who knew you'd be here to make me feel all understood and validated? Bless you, little squirrel. Bless you.

Anyway, remember how in my last post I said we were going to go into the city and take so many pictures of how fun we are that you wouldn't be able to resist booking a trip to come see us? Remember that?? Well, we went! And we took three whole pictures! And it wasn't fun at all! Yay!

Let me 'splain.

On our way into Time(s?) Square, Sam and I were hating each other. Mostly because it was 800 degrees outside with 427% humidity and no breeze and those kinds of conditions, while lugging two babes through large crowds of tourists and mangeys, can really bring out the best in a person. 'Specially me. Cause my family frequently calls me a polar bear cause I like it coldy... and a work horse too. But that's a different story entirely that has more to do with my unnatural she-strength and less to do with the temperature.

It should also be noted that Sam has been vexed with me in general since he unwisely rested his feet on my lap while being overly engrossed in his laptop. This resulted in...

....a stealth toenail painting that, he claims, has forced him to wear sneakers... FOREVER! I keep telling him to just use nail polish remover but the little dear doesn't know how. I think I'll let him work on it for a while. It's important that he realize that after FIVE years of marriage, he's STILL underestimating the amount of attention I require. Nobody screw with me!

Anyway, back to our little jaunt to the city...

There was so much love in the air that day that right after I took this picture I said to Sam in my wenchiest tone, "Wow. You looked really awesome in that picture just now." And he looked at me like I was the world's stinkiest, steamiest, most immature pile o' poo. And in that moment, I was (forgive me). But then he exclaimed that he couldn't smile because his sneakers were making him too hot, and I no longer felt bad about being a snarky biznatch. Look how cute Leah looks, though.

This picture was taken during, really, the highlight of the whole outing.... waiting for our ride home in the ferry terminal. Which happened to be airconditioned and, at that moment, almost completely empty and therefore, perfect.

I think this picture sums up Leah and Eve's relationship perfectly.

Cute Turkey Sub on the ferry crossing the crystal clear blue waters of the Hudson.

Fun trip, right?! Technically we do have a couple more pictures but I look like Ursula in them and may or may not be flipping off the camera.

In other news, this place has some fantastic parks that we've been frequenting. On Friday night we packed a little family picnic and headed out. Here you see Leah practicing her gang-sign flashing...

And Eve filling her gullet like a good girl.

And then Saturday morning we headed to a ward bbq at Liberty State Park.... Didn't think much of the whole "Liberty" part of the park name until we pulled up and there was Lady Liberty herself, staring down at us in all her glory...

Made me get all star-struck and giggly. The pictures make her look much further away than she was... the statue that is, not Eve. Eve pretty much looks beefy and true to form.

In the mean time, Leah got accepted to the pre-school we applied to (yes!!) and spends most of her free time building castles in this sand box our neighbors just gave us. That's right. GAVE us. I was literally filling out the billing info online, purchasing this very box for her, when I noticed them hoofing it over the fence. Can you even handle them? Everyone should be so lucky. Now, to start dropping hints about that little play house of theirs....

And Baby Eve spends her time here... loitering by the back door, waiting for Leah to make a false move and set her free.

And now I'm off to do some online shopping... which, unfortunately for Sam, makes me a very happy squirrel.

A Whole New World...

2011-07-27T08:34:00.000-07:00

So, I suh-huck at blogging lately. Seriously suck. Suck Suck suckity. The Turkey Sub told me I suck (in general) the other day so I've had to stop saying it aloud... hence the usage five times just now. She can't read yet, suckas! You suck. Ok, I'm done.

You don't really suck. Luff you.

I have approximately 7,000 pictures of our last month in Chicago, and the thought of posting them is giving me an ulcer. Mostly because I'm trying to avoid stirring up the feelings of utter devastation that are already so close to the surface and ready to overflow during any of the many moments that I come face to face with the reality of having left that glorious place.

And that may have been the best sentence I've ever written.

What I'm trying to say is I'm sad. Like REALLY sad. Waaaay more sad than anyone else has ever been, probably. In fact, I'll just stop talking about it before you lose interest cause you can't relate.

SO, since I'm not emotionally prepared to post about my last blessed moments in Chicago, OR our heavenly couple of weeks in Utah and Idaho before the big move, I'm going to tell you about our first week on this new and exciting and weird and wonderful little planet directly across the river from Manhattan called Hoboken, New Jersey. Pronounced HOboken, not HoBOken, like you might think and then get looked at funny and made fun of and corrected 15 times.

Now, don't go gettin' all excited and wettin' yer drawers. Don't go thinkin' I've got a bunch of crazy tales to tell about me changing our name to Palmbino and starting an organized crime family or joining the cast of Jersey Shore or nutin'. Because none of those things worked out and I'm still feeling a little sensitive.

Mostly I've just been trying to keep my 3-year old interested in bouncing a tennis ball off the wall all day while I unpack, since we've been living without our furniture or toys. She's gonna really be surprised when I get all of our home decor items out and situated and she starts getting spanked for throwing balls in the house. It'll be a good joke.

Anyway, here we go!

We'll start with a little shot of the street outside of our building just to give you the feel of this quaint little urban NYC neighborhood. I don't have many pictures yet, and this is the only one of any of the general splendor I've taken so far, so it'll have to do.

Leah got straight to work breaking in the swings at Church Square Park, a glorious little park two blocks from our apartment that is surrounded by beautiful old churches... I'm obsessed.

To prove I was just kidding about the tennis ball/spanking thing, here's documentation of what Leah's really been up to...

...lots of nude painting with DJ Lance...

and a little of this...

She's a natural..

We took a walk down to the waterfront and encountered some roided out gangster geese. We naively wheeled Leah through the onslaught holding a cookie, which they immediately sniffed out, along with her fear. Here you'll notice Leah desperately clutching her wee little cookie while they ascended and actually bit (pecked?) her leg. And I stood by to take pictures.

Don't think I didn't punt that little bastage into the water. Cause I did. Well, not into the water, but I did kick it. And it flared out it's wings and hissed at me. And I spat upon it. And then we fought.

To the death.

And judging by who's sitting here writing this here blog post, I think it's pretty clear to see who won.

And I may or may not have been promoted to the goose family underboss.

Too much? Dang you, I knew it.

These are our lovely neighbors who are excellent in every way and so "new york" it hurts. You'll notice both of my girls in their underwear. That's because whenever either of them are even spotted through our window, they are snatched up over the fence and dropped in the pool or whatever other wondrous activity they've got going on.

The other day the police showed up at their apartment and I was certain they had called the cops on us. Leah and I had been engaged in an enthusiastic reenactment of "Mother knows best," (important lesson, you know) and that song can get rather spirited. I sat there in legitimate terror thinking they were reporting us for child abuse. Or disturbing the peace. Turns out it was just an accidental 911 dialing. But a close call for me and my marijuana crop.

Cool parade celebrating one of the catholic saints on the way home from the park yesterday. See the statue they're carrying? There was lots of trumpeting and lighting things on fire and stuff.

I realized I haven't taken any pictures of Eve since we've been here. Mostly because she's been strapped to me in the ergobaby everywhere we've gone lately... so I thought I'd share this little gem taken a couple weeks ago in Utah so she doesn't read this when she gets older and think I didn't love her.

And one with me in it for good measure. Also, not in Hoboken. But the only picture taken of me in weeks with make up on. Pretty revolutionary.

And that's about it. Haven't even been to the city yet. Even though it's ONE measly mile away. But I think we will go this weekend... and then I'll assault you with so many pictures of how fun we are that you'll instantly book a ticket to come see us. You won't be able to help yourself.

Way to Go, Baby.

2011-06-13T18:03:00.000-07:00

This last Saturday, Sambino made his way across the stage of the McCormick Center in downtown Chicago, shook the hand of the Dean of the University of Chicago Booth School of Business, and accepted his diploma.

A Masters of Business Administration, with an emphasis in Finance and Economics.

It was a bittersweet moment for all involved. Especially that tender hearted little Dean. So cute, just blubbering and ugly-face crying the night away. He's really gonna miss Sam...

I made quite a scene with Tiny Tuna strapped to my chest in my 4-inch heels, hoofing it to the train station... but the plentiful Harry Potter references throughout the night made it well worth it.

This b-school adventure has been indescribable. In fact, I'm not prepared to talk about it. I think I'll have to wait a couple of months after we've gotten settled in New York and I've had a moment to process it all before I can even begin to recap my thoughts and feelings about this experience. So don't even bring it up. I will say, being a business school wife here in Hyde Park slapped me right in the face and completely rocked my world. At the same time. Which, when experienced simultaneously, is rather exhilarating. I'm a changed woman.

Mostly because of these folks...

But I'm not gonna get into it! I told you I wasn't prepared to talk about it! Stop all your pryin' and snoopin'!

I am, however, prepared to talk about this guy:

Pictured here with his dad and his wee lit'l plate o' chocolate dipped strawberries.

What can I even say about my Sam? "I'm so proud," seems a little trite. I guess watching him work his little tush off for two years, accomplishing great things (things I could never, ever even think of accomplishing) and scaling the walls of greatness in general, just leaves me a little speechless.

One of the evening's key note speakers challenged each of the graduating class to "find his own cello." He said this in reference to Yo-yo Ma, one of the world's most renown cellists, who, before finding his niche as a cellist, was only mediocre at the violin. I loved the message. I felt inspired and proud.

More than anything I guess I'm just excited I get to watch Sam find his.

Congratulations to the class of 2011!

May, what would I do without you?

2011-05-31T12:22:00.000-07:00

The month of May has been so jam packed with fun and adventure I've been feeling great anxiety at the thought of organizing my thoughts and pictures enough to document it. And when I feel overwhelmed with a task, I generally just put it off until the anxiety and procrastination feelings grow so ginorm they overcome me completely and I start short-circuiting and doing the robot.

Until Sam slaps me repeatedly and I snap out of it.

Now that I've had a good post-breakdown slapping, I'm ready to post the night away. So, just settle right in with some popcorn and a bottle of gin and prepare yourselves for the longest post in blog history.

First, a little flashback to Easter. Just a teeny, itty bitty little flashback.

We had an exuberant Easter feast with all of our favorite friends, of course.

And sent the munchkins on an extensive easter egg treasure hunt. Leah was really feeling the Easter spirit here in preparation for it...

The babies of the five Business School organized crime families...

These little subs were all born this year... From left to right:

Jude (Matt and Mimi), William (Amber and Mark), Eve (Me and... TBD) and Skylee (Linc and Carina)

Here we have Eve and Jude offering William a coordinated judo chop. It's clear from Skylee's jubilant expression that she ordered the hit. She's a ruthless leader, that little Skylee.

Next!

We take our Mexican holidays seriously, so we had to have a little Cinco de Mayo fiesta by breaking into the church and making cafe rio salads...

May 5th is also my sissy, Bethany's birthday! And so, Cinco de Mayo happens to be my very favorite holiday.

And then the boys had a volleyball dunking contest. Because volleyball is the official sport of Mexico.

On May 20th, I turned 26 years old. That's right. I'm legit. I don't really know why 26 makes me legit... But trust me, I'm way more legit now than I was at 25. Don't know how. But you better believe it.

I wish there was some wisdom I could impart with you all now that I'm 26 and know a lot about everything, but nothing is striking my fancy. Mostly because "Ni Hao, Kai-lan," is on right now, crippling my brain with Chinese and enthusiasm.

And so, I'll just tell you what we did to celebrate.

First, the girls took me to dinner to Leona's on my birthday eve and Carina made me a fabulous cake--but, her camera revolted against her and we all ended up looking like smudgy blobs in the pictures. So I have no photo evidence to share of our magical girl's night out. But it happened. Don't you go tellin' your friends I'm making it up.

On my actual birthday, Sam took me to lunch to our very favorite place, Capitol Grille...

...and gave me this fabulous camera.

It's amazing how many times I thought, "Oh, I need to take a picture of my new camera to put on the blog..." and then my brain fried at the thought of taking a picture of my new camera with my new camera. This mental merry-go-round happened no less that 15 times...

Then Sam asked if I wouldn't mind snapping a few photos of him for his eHarmony.com profile....

And we played this game for 3 or 4 hours....

Next we headed to the park for some tennis (don't be alarmed, sisters. i've become a recent tennis enthusiast and will convert you when we next meet).

Sam revealed his next gift in the form of a mind-blowing juggling routine. Didn't even know he could juggle. It was like I was married to a whole new man, the way that juggling lit up his eyes. Just look at him. Finally in his element, jugglin' away.

And finally, the whole gang headed to Promontory Point for a bonfire/hotdog/s'more par-tay.

There was a lot of drunken celebrating going on...

Leah worships the ground Brooklyn walks on... you see by the intense emulation. I keep trying to tell her to play a little hard to get, but she's powerless against B's feminine wiles...

Leah and Avery looking more delish than those mallows they're hoarding...

The Eagle Scout program works, my friends.

In the end, it was simply the power of love that got that fire roaring. Just look at Matt snugglin' right up, giving that little baby flame all the love and tenderness in the world..

Sam looking regal and hot after dominating the fire...

And by hot, I mean like, HAWT. And by dominating, I mean like, peeing on it.

All mah single ladies, all mah single ladies! With husbands and children...

"No mama! Don't burn the mahshmawows!" She was vexed by the whole idea...

There are really no words to describe the fabulousness of my birthday this year. I mean, I guess this picture sorta sums it up...

But not really.

During the bonfire some of us decided a road trip was in order. And so we girded up our loins and headed out the very next day to....

THE EAGLE RIDGE GOLF RESORT AND SPA IN GALINA, IL!!

We stayed for 4 days and 3 nights, and the trip itself will have to be its own post... but I will tell you, there was a lot of this:

Ghosts? Or near-nude husbands frantically streaking through the night? More on that later.

Here's a picture of Tiny Tuna, though...

And finally, after Sam's race, we topped off the month with an excellent Memorial Day Weekend of fun and food and friends.

I asked these burly men to flex their muscles for a picture and they all refused. Then I told them it was the muscles or a kissy face and...

MAGIC!!

The boys were playing football and bravado-ing around in general and I was basking in the shade with the ladies when Sam popped up and was like, "Hey did you see me playing out there?" I was like, "Uh, yeah, baby." And he was like, "Weeeell???" all impatient-like. And I was like, "Well what?" And then he said, and I quote, "Well did you wanna get some action shots or what?!"

OH. MY.

What a heffer.

Magically, the paparazzi ascended on their football game...

Lookin' good, fellas. Lookin' real good.

And then Sam and Linc jumped in Lake Michigan to cool off...

Oh May, you've been good to me. In fact, you've been magical. And its with your ending that I have to face the reality of crappy things like graduating business school and leaving Chicago. And so with that, I'll go bawl my eyes out...

Over the Moon...

2011-05-28T16:06:00.001-07:00

... with this guy...

... who, six weeks ago, very causally entered the Chicago Fleet Feet Sports Soldier Field 10 Mile Run. And then made it his beyotch. This morning. In 84 minutes. Right in front of my adoring eyes.

There were over 12,000 runners. It was a glorious event, indeed.

Oh, Sambino. You make your wifey so proud.

And don't think watching and being all a part of the drama and emotion and excitement of it all didn't make me think I could go right ahead and enter the Chicago marathon. Because I almost did just now. But then I decided to surf the net instead.

The coolest part about this particular race is that the finish line was right on the 50 yard line at Soldier Field, where the Chicago Bears play. It was pretty freaking awesome.

Those medals were pure gold!

We started the preparations for this morning's festivities last night with a ceremonial outing to Pizza Capri for some carb loading. Because we are super supportive, and generally willing to sacrifice for our husbands, the wives took part in the carbo extravaganza as well. The things we do for these boys....

Then, we woke with the sun and took our little stroller brigade to the metra...

...where the munchkins waited in squealing anticipation for the train to Soldier Field.

Carina asked to be in this photo with the kids. She really loves the camera. Such a ham, that girl!

It was a bit of a zoo trying to get shots of our boys amongst the chaos. In fact, one lady tried to make herself comfortable directly in front of me when I knew Sam was coming in, and I may or may not have threatened to punch her lights out. Or I may have just mumbled it under my breath. Or maybe right to her face. Or maybe I just mentioned that I felt like doing it in passing to my friends. No one will ever know. But let's just say, she left the stadium with a black eye. Or maybe she didn't!

Upon my request, Sam called me when he was a mile out so I could brace myself for his moment of glory. But all I could hear on the other end of the line was a bunch of puffing and gasping and belching. In the end, I just snapped pictures of every hottie with a beard and bulging biceps I saw cross the finish line, hoping one of them would be him. Can you find him? He's fist pumping with Mimi's hub, Matt.

Even Baby Eve couldn't deny there was magic in the air after her daddy big moment...

So, so proud of these hubbies.

Next stop, IRON MAN.

Little Lee Turns Three!

2011-05-15T13:13:00.000-07:00

**It should be noted: Blogger crashed for like 3 days and stole the original of this post. This is the sloppy second version. Kill them. Oh, and Leah's actual birthday was on the 12th but I couldn't post because of said blogger crash. Jus' sayin.**

Oh little Leah Mae,

I can't believe you are three today. If I sit for too long thinking about you being all big and three and no longer the little cherub who used to rub my upper arm raw to fall asleep, I will bawl my eyes out and slip into a sort of "time is going too quickly" funk wherein I binge eat and spend my days seeking out a bit of cushion to fall asleep on.

We've been through a lot, you and me. You ventured from your Heavenly Father's arms and down to mine during an exciting and crazy time. In your short life you've lived in five different apartments, in four different cities, in three different states. And we're moving again in a couple of months.

You have also been bestowed with a total of seven nicknames in the last three years. In no particular order:

Yitta Yee

Miss Mae

Turkey Sub

Schmeah Schmae

Schmee

Princess Leah

Leah Lou

... and they all fit you to a tee.

You've started to harness your inner WWF wrestler and have become a gentle and attentive big sister. This sends your mother over the moon. If my mothering produces no other result than you and Eve being best friends, I will consider myself victorious. Even if you become pot heads... so long as you're besties.

You have an affinity for drawing on the walls with crayons. And I've only been able to thwart your efforts by making you watch me break your crayons in half (aka snap their heads off) and pitch them into the garbage. All while pretending they (your crayons) are screaming. Anything less than this gruesome scene and you are unmoved.

You once saved me from a group of south side Chicago men who, upon seeing your angel face peering out from the back seat of our car, stopped their threatening advances and decided to leave me alone. The main instigator actually said, "Oh. I see your baby. You got lucky." I'm not sure what would have happened had you not been there, but for dramatic effect, let's just say you saved my life that day.

You are morally opposed to wearing clothing at home. As soon as we walk in the door, you begin shedding your clothing, and if I attempt any other activity, i.e. putting away groceries or feeding baby Eve, before attending to your nekedness, you morph quickly into a raging loon. I believe you inherited this from your Grammy. Your general attire of choice; panties, shoes and a few accessories.

You will currently ingest 11 items. Anything else, and I may as well be poisoning you. These items include, avocado, chicken nuggets, toast, peanut butter and honey sandwiches, cheese, grapes, strawberries, bananas, yogurt, pizza, and your very favorite, tomatoes.

You are obsessed with flowers and are constantly presenting me with dandelions, the only ones you are allowed to pick.

You have ridiculously long and luxurious curly hair and I am accused regularly by other people of lying about its natural splendor. In fact, at Disneyland, we overheard a woman pointing at you and saying, "Oh, wow, look, that little girl got her hair all done up to meet the princesses." And even though I did nothing of the sort, I felt overcome with immediate "Toddlers and Tiaras" shame. No one seems to want to believe I don't make you sleep in curlers each night... turns out the world's just not ready for your fabulous mane.

Every night we go to bed talking about Princess Leah. These stories always include Josh, Isaiah and Lucy, and your "best friends," Belle, Sleeping Beauty, Ariel the Mermaid and Snow White. You are currently alienating Cinderella. She is not allowed in your stories or out of your princess drawer during the day to play. I'm not sure what she did to lose favor in your eyes.

After our Princess Leah stories, you want me to sing, "Ol' McDonald had a farm," with the order of animals going puppy, kitty cat, cow, duck, pig and repeat. This continues until you begin to snore. Only once the snoring begins is it safe for me to move. You'll be happy to hear you snore loudly.

You have recently mastered the art of going potty in the toiley. And you often shout, "Moooomm! I went pee on the floor!!" for me to come running in, only to find you perched on the pot, giggling away. You think you are super funny. You also find it necessary to "de-robe" in public before announcing you have to go.

You make your way into our bedroom every night by 2Am and swat the bottom of the bed until your dad and I wake up and acknowledge you. Then you scurry up the bed and shout around, "I'm coldy!" or, "There's scary monsters!" before settling in between us. You demand mama's pillow and daddy's "blank-let" and then let out a grandiose sigh once you've situated yourself comfortably.

I wouldn't have it any other way. Except for maybe you staying in your own bed all night and not waking me up or stealing my pillow. But mostly, I wouldn't change a thing.

Here are a few of the ways we celebrated your big day this year:

We started out with some good ol' fashioned birthday loot...

A new Belle dress for twirling...

And once we discovered your exposure to bikes has been so limited that you were a complete tard on one at the park the other day, we decided it was time you had one of your very own...

For lunch we went for a little Cheesecake Factory delight. You put together your birthday ensemble. I was quite impressed...

Dadbehindcamera/Mominfrontofcamera FAIL.

Somehow these pictures met your dad's approval after he took them and we moved on from the "girl's photo shoot" to....

Perfect daddy/daughter bliss...

That's better.

And you delighted in anything with a lit candle in it. Even a sacrament cup of whip cream...

After lunch we went on a summer clothes shopping spree.

The Par-Tay....

Pillaging the tasty loot before your guests arrived....

Opening presents amidst some of your favorite munchkins...

It was a glorious night for an even glorious-er little girl.

The morning after...

To Grammy, Leah has been doing this over and over for six hours straight...

And the Salazars, let's just say, Leah slept with this last night...

Leah, I love you more than I can say! Happy, happy birthday, beautiful girl.

Some Things Are Just Too Good....

2011-05-02T19:25:00.000-07:00

I don't even know where to begin this post. In fact, I've been putting off posting about this particular grand event for like two weeks because the task has seemed so daunting. That, and my sister has been holding half of the pictures hostage. And I still don't have them. But more importantly, there are just no words to properly describe

MERADITH AND JASON AND CO. COMING TO VISIT CHICAGO!!

See what I did there? See how I made it all big and rainbowy so you could tell how fun it was? And how dreamy I feel thinking back on it? I'm pretty good at making complex emotions simple with rainbows.

Anyway, it was an action packed, fun-filled adventure. In fact, we're such fun-gluttons that at one point we actually drove three hours for frozen custard. More on that later.

We'll begin today's journey with a little photo delight of Leah and Lucy. These little dears were so in love your heart may just burst witnessing a bit of their splendor...

But don't let them fool you. They would become quite vicious at the slightest provocation. And wouldn't hesitate to grab each other by the collar and go blow for blow. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. But for the most part there was love, love, love all around.

And this Tiny Tuna was as sweet as cherry pie.

Oooooh I can't handle her tiny face and huge cheeks and overall gushiness!

Our first day we ventured to Milwaukee to sample the frozen custard that, many moons ago, inspired Meradith's hub, Jason, to open Coney's in Utah. If you live in Utah Valley, better yet, if you ever have any reason to go to Utah for anything at all, and haven't tried it, I urge you to do so. So freaking good. And their burgers and hotdogs and custard win all sorts of awards and crap. For reals. So good. Go there.

Anyway, we went to Milwaukee and got custard and then went to this fun zone place that was full of great food and fun and everything wondrous.

Sam and Jason with their respective wenches following an invigorating round of mini bowling.

I hadn't been bowling in years before I stepped foot on that little mini bowling lane. And I'm not afraid to admit that obliterating my husband in a game awakened the bowling passion in me. I've been heckling Sam to take me real life bowling ever since. Turns out he's too scared.

Mer and the munchies on the frog hopper...

Before you look at this next group of photos, please beware that they were taken while I was under the influence of, and completely intoxicated by, dessert pizza. You'll notice the sequence of events, peaking somewhere in the middle and then slowly declining into the dark world of dessert pizza poisoning...

... finally resulting in a complete dessert pizza overload brain implosion....

Meradith experienced something similar, but I'll allow her to divulge the details on her own blog at her discretion. I will say it started out like this....

... and didn't end pretty.

On day two we headed off downtown on the metra to visit Millennium Park and Big Willy, formally known at the Sears Tower (rest in peace). The best part of this picture is the crusty old curmudgeon in the bright pink jacket behind us...

Fun fashion tip, ladies. If you want to look 700lbs, go ahead and zip your baby up in the front of your coat. It worked for me, and with a little work, it can work for you, too...

The Bean, or "Cloudgate" always makes for some good ol' fashioned family foto fun..

Not quite....

There we go... note Froto Baggins on the right. Well, I guess Sam Wise would be more fitting...

The babes desecrating some spring blossoms. It was a toasty 40 degrees out that day. Those blossoms didn't belong....

Big Willy!

Yuv this one...

Pictured here; Leah grooming her mother like a baby baboon. It's a sweet, tender service she renders only to me... and sometimes Baby Eve.

We were killing some time at a mall in Milwaukee when Meradith decided to have a little fun at my daughters expense. The munchkins were dutifully playing along in the fun toys when Mera very casually said, "Leah, go bring me that lady bug..." Being the obedient little girl she is, Leah went straight to work trying to retrieve that bolted-down lady bug for her auntie...

After a few minutes Leah would look up at Meradith and say, "Auntie, it's too hard..." and abandon her futile task... and then, minutes later, Meradith would, very casually again, say, "Leah, go get me that lady bug over there." And off she'd go...

This charade repeated itself no less that 15 times. Which means that Leah spent, pretty much, the duration of her time in the fun toys trying to heave this huge ceramic bug from it's mount on the ground. All for her mean, mean Auntie.

You'd think I would have put a stop to this mental and physical child abuse. But you'd be wrong. Because I was having too much fun pointing at her and peeing my pants with laughter.

And that concludes the first installment of

MERADITH AND JASON AND CO. VISIT CHICAGO!!

...because Meradith still has all of the pictures from the second half of the trip. Cause she's a reeeaaal 'sombeech. And while I'd like to tie the documentation of their glorious trip up in a pretty little bow and send it on its way, I can't. Not 'til I get them pictures. So stay tuned....

"Shameful Dating"

2011-04-09T17:58:00.000-07:00

A little story I just wrote on the sister blog...

http://randomtangentry.blogspot.com/2011/04/shameful-dating-part-1.html

Disney, Ya Done Meh Good...

2011-03-28T20:42:00.000-07:00

This post is going to be mostly pictures. Pictures that are far too plentiful and far to fabulous to be placed in any sort of order... Because over spring break we went to DISNEYLAND!!! That's right. It was glorious and magical and wondrous and everything good in the world all wrapped up into a few days of SPLENDID! With cherries on top.

My sissy, Bethany, and her family drove from Phoenix to meet us. Our other sister, who shall remain nameless, better yet, "She Who Shall Not Be Named," couldn't make it. It's too bad for her too, because me and Bethany made up all sorts of secret handshakes and stuff...

Anyway, I LUFFED it! It was actually my first time to DL. So don't think I didn't throw elbows. Cause I did. I'm not scuuured to shove an 8 year old out of line.

Onward! Here are a few of our magic moments...

The Turkey Sub is completely in her element with her cousies... Just look at 'er our first night at the hotel.

I can't even handle them...

Have you ever seen anything better? No. No, you haven't.

Waiting for the disney shuttle in the morning... enraptured by this snail on the wall. We pretty much didn't even need to go to disneyland...

This isn't from the trip but I included it to show off Leah's new swimming suit. Obsessed.

This was all good and well until the kids started touching the cars... and then a Disneyland sniper ninja ascended from the sky and tranquilized all patrons within a 15 foot radius. No touching the cars!!

Leah spent as much time in the shrubbery around the attractions as she did on the actual rides. Just too many railings to climb for a two year old to resist.

Bethyboodle and the munchkins...

Leah Mae and dad on their second bumper-car-go-round...

This little bundle was an absolute dream boat the whole trip. Including the 5 hour flights. I was over the moon with her the entire time. Still am.

Halfway through this ride, as I watched from the sidelines, I noticed Leah disappear and Bethany start laughing so hard she could hardly sit up... what I couldn't see was Leah bent over at the waist, flopping around because she could no longer hold herself up against the G-forces. When she got off, she was still happy as a clam!

Giving the sword in the stone a hearty tug...

The bendy bars in Toon Town.

Mama duck and all her ducklings... and mine.

While this green chair may look plush and inviting, it wasn't. I nearly cracked my head open when I sat down.

Walid and Ally giving Leah a little "what's to come" pep talk... Blowing her mind, I dare say.

After finally convincing Elyza to go on the California Screamer. She started screaming "Again! Again!" as soon as it ended. It was a good moment for all involved.

On the huge California Adventure ferris wheel...

Sam with Bethany's Ally and Elyza on the Ferris wheel.

Sam can only occasionally be found behind the camera. But you can bet, if we're out and about in a picture-taking kind of way, he'll snap one of me nursing. Every time. I can't tell you how many shots I have just like this one. Making the same face, too. What can I say? I inspire him.

Don't judge my greasiness.

Sam and Olivia are both plumber's crack aficionados... I have the same shot of Sam climbing into that carriage...

Dang it feels good to be a gangsta...

And finally, the princesses. Oh, the princesses. Or, as Leah says, the Princesses-es. This was the highlight of the trip...

This first shot is when Leah first spotted Belle down the way and said, "Look Awiel! It's Belle!" She could barely contain herself long enough for the next pose. Ariel was a little put out.

The crowning moment of our Disneyland experience was meeting Belle, Leah's favorito of the princesses-es. There was so much gushing and twirling and squealing my heart burst into a thousand tiny pieces. But, let's not pretend Belle didn't look a little weird. Maybe it was that felt shawl/petty coat monstrosity she was wearing...

I realize this video is sideways... But it's 10:52PM and I'm starting to get that panicky feeling that only mothers, who know they will never get to recoup lost sleep, get when it starts to creep past bedtime... so it's stayin.

Leah was shouting out, "Hey! Cinderella! Hiiii! Cinderella!" And then looking back at me, "Come on, Mama! Let's go see Cinderella!" That little pansy in the feather hat kept blocking her way with strategically placed dances moves.

Oh, Disneyland... you are my new best friend. It's been a long time coming. And after not once, but twice, becoming so overcome by your splendor that I attempted a choreographed song and dance number on your Main Street, I know we will be in each other's lives for a very long time... You're beautiful.

Leprechauns...

2011-03-14T06:46:00.000-07:00

Chicago has this strangely fascinating tradition where they dye the Chicago River bright green for St. Patty's Day. What's interesting about it is that they can't really explain how, exactly, they manage to do it. It was all serendipitous back in the 50's when they first discovered it and no other city since has been able to pull it off. And what'll really blow your mind is that they actually use orange dye.

So really, none of it makes sense to anyone at all. And the "River Dyers" just get all shifty and skittish whenever anyone starts poking around for answers.

Anyway, the reason I say it's strangely fascinating is that you wouldn't think it would be so mind-boggling to see it in person. But I just kind of sat there staring at that bright green water for like ten minutes straight. Weeping at the beauty of it all.

Not really weeping. But it did sorta blow my mind and chap me all at once. And I did end up having like forty pictures in a row on my camera of nothing but bright green water. I just kept clicking away, trying to get it to make more sense. As if I could go through the pictures later and somehow, from some angle, one of those pictures would bring about some grand revelation. I mean, how the crap do you dye an entire river green? Doesn't a river flow? Is the river green all the way down to the bottom? If I dipped my finger in it, would my finger turn green??

It's all very fishy to me...

I blame the Mafia.

Anyway, now that I've got you all riveted, here's a few pictures of our trip to see it on Saturday...

Me and Sambino...

Just look at that bright green water! I mean, how do they DO IT?!?!

Just kidding, I'm over it.

Our respective offspring...

Unlike me, they weren't that amazed. They just looked at the river for a minute and then formed a sort of mosh-pit for the remainder of the time, while the adults took a hundred pictures.

Seriously, you don't even KNOW how excited Carina and I were when we got there and saw all that green water. There was just so much rejoicing and gratitude...

But that pretty much happens every time we see each other...

What you didn't see was me spinning her around and tossing her up in the air a few times...

And then rocking her right to sleep after she gave me a good belch...

We were finally able to contain ourselves long enough to take a proper photo with all the lovely ladies.

Did you notice the color of the water behind us? It's GREEN.

Leah wore her huge hat just like this for the duration...

Quick note. Ever since I started out by titling this post "Dirty Leprechauns," I've been thinking everything in an Irish accent as I type. And the question I pose to you is this; are "Irish" accents and "Pirate" accents the same? Because in my head right now, I'm thinking you can use them interchangeably. Maybe I've just been thinking in pirate...

Enough!

Onto a few more pictures for posterity.

Leah is always heckling me while I'm doing my makeup, so the other day I pinned her down and gussied her right up. She didn't appreciate the application very much, but she did fall instantly in love with her reflection in the mirror...

And then she turned all diva and started making outlandish demands for jewels and exotic furs...

This Tiny Tuna has started giggling and, I'm not kidding, even thinking about it is giving me the urge to huck this laptop out the window. I lub it. And I lub her. And I lub you.

It should be noted that we have spent most of March cycling through a nasty cold sent to our family straight from the bowels of Satan.

Poor tiny Turkey Sub...

"I feel all better with purp-ah yips mama..."

Feeling a little more spritely these days...

As this picture was taken Leah was actually saying, "Alllllwight guys. All done. Get baby Eve offa me."

Then she gave her a good shove.

The End.

WAIT!

One more thing...

Both my babes at the same age wearing the same outfit. Leah just likes to show a little more leg and a little more double chin than Eve. I think they look nothing alike... but ooooh I'm a lucky mama.

What Dreams May Come...

2011-03-01T18:30:00.000-08:00

When I was young, I thought nothing would be more glamorous than living in a big city. People from big cities held a sort of celebrity-esque wonder for me. And they sat waaay up the coolness scale from us country folk. Not to mention all those huge buildings. A good skyline was like, the sexiest thing ever. And I used to fantasize about hailing cabs and stuff.

That being said, when I was twelve I decided I wasn't getting enough attention and thought it would be a good idea to tell all of my friends that our family was moving to, none other than, the Big Apple. This was especially preposterous because, I can assure you, in all of the history of Idaho Falls, Idaho, there has never been a family move to New York City. But, for some reason, this seemed like the ideal place for me and the ideal place for my family and so I went for it. Never mind the fact that saying you're moving actually entails leaving a place... pshhht, details.

It got so out of hand that my best friend, Sarah, and I had a full on bawl fest and "goodbye letter writing ceremony" where we pledged our undying loyalty and bestfriendness to each other. Looking back on it, I'm pretty sure I was some sort of sociopath.

As you can imagine, keeping up the charade sent my life spiraling into a vortex of quaking anxiety. But then, one of my ex-lovers, Scott, talked to my sister about it, and my little house of cards came tumbling down. She, of course, knew nothing about this cross country escapade. Naturally, he wrote me a disdainful note explaining that he thought I was rude for lying and, more pointedly, a huge weirdo.

I sortof avoided Scott after that. And since he was older than me, I felt great relief once he left to high school. And when he added me as a friend on facebook last year I thought for sure he was still thinking about it and I felt all awkward like, for some reason, I needed to bring it up to him. And I was certain he was telling all his family and friends about me. And I just knew he only added me so he could somehow tell Sam he'd made a big mistake marrying me cause I was a liar! See, kids?! See what lying'll do to you!??

Sorry.

Back to my story.

The best part of it all was that I never fessed up. I just sort of pretended it didn't happen. And when people would bring it up, I would just get all shifty-eyed and point and shout, "What's that!?" and then snake some of their french fries and bolt. Eventually people just stopped talking about it...

My infatuation with the big city lasted, albeit less intensely, until college. And then I got married and moved to San Francisco. And that's when I realized that the key component to being enamored with big city life is to, in fact, not live in one.

Suddenly my vision of being all hipster and staring pensively out the windows of quaint little bookstores was violently replaced by the reality of crap like homeless people gettin' all up in my grill and me trying to lug 50lbs of groceries onto stinky buses overflowing with crazies.

But that's neither here nor there. The point of this post is this:

I was a sad little weirdy as a kid.

J/K.

The real point of this post is that Heavenly Father has made me painfully aware that He's not super interested in answering my prayers when I want Him to, but He does always answer them. And He's got a sense of humor, too. Because ever since it became glaringly obvious to me that I am, indeed, not a city girl, I have lived in either San Francisco or Chicago.

And the real, real point of this post is to tell you that in June, we're moving to New York City.

For reals.

February Fun Forever Fluff!

2011-02-23T21:40:00.000-08:00

February has been quite the month for us business school students. Basically we all got simultaneously fed up with winter and decided to give it the bird by partying like rock stars. Also, we're becoming painfully aware that our time together is whittling away. I shed a tear at the end of each passing day, I tell you.

Anyway, I've got lots o' pictures to share of our most recent shenanigans. On February 6th, we blessed our Tiny Tuna. She was in no mood for a blessing photo shoot so we only attempted a few. And then de-robed before we could take any family shots. So these three measly pictures are all I have to offer:

Only SUPER special girls get blessed on Super Bowl Sunday! We invited everyone over for a little fiesta to celebrate both occasions.

And Mimi made this excellent collage of the evening that I dutifully janked from her blog:

It was a most invigorating partaaay. Though, I will say, about 15 minutes in, Leah got a little overwhelmed and her jubilation morphed into unbridled rage. She had to take a little time out in mom and dad's room to collect herself...

No more than 10 minutes after everyone cleared out. Completely sacked out.

Moving on!

This is a little shot of "the men" taken at Brooklyn's birthday bash. Just before they started playing "light as a feather, stiff as a board."

Take a look at this little squish, glancing over her shoulder with disdain at all of her minions... I yuv her. What I didn't yuv was me and Sam's double chins on either side of her in the original of this photo. Judo chop crop!

On Valentine's Day we ventured over to the Bischoff's for a delicious pancake extravaganza. Love, love, love was all around.

Josh and Leah's first V-Day as a couple, sharing the same seat:

There's a lot of affection in this line-up, folks.

This one, too.

And I'm not scuuured of a lil' double baby duty. This was jus' before I whipped mah shirt off and gave 'um both a good Valentine's Day nursin' .

**Note** When Sam read this part he said, "That's such a creepy joke. You need to say just kidding sometimes." So... attention everyone! I was just kidding about the double barrel nursing! Carina wouldn't let me nurse Skylee...

You may have heard on the news about the "super storm" that hit Chicago and killed everything and stuff. Well, it kind of did. But Leah made it through. Looking cute as a button, I might add.

Here we have a little girl's night out for Mimi's birthday.

I love these women. I'd have taken out 200k in student loans for the sole benefit of having them in my life. 'Specially the little wench in the striped sweater.

And finally...

Know who this is??

It's Warren Buffett beyotches!

'Cept in this one Sam was trying to get him to flex his muscles, but Warren B (not to be confused with Warren G) thought he was going in for a fist pound... so they ended up in some sort of awkward, flex-fist-pound, lover's limbo.

No harm done.

The best part of it all was when I was telling my sister, Meradith, that Sam was in Omaha at a Warren Buffet conference she was like, "Why the crap did Sam go all the way to Omaha for a Jimmy Buffet concert?"

Precisely, Meradith. Precisely.

Now, stay tuned for pictures of Sam's birthday cake get-together. It hasn't happened yet, but I'm expecting lots of nudity.

Sam-Bam-Thank-You-Mam

2011-02-19T04:42:00.000-08:00

"You're so freaking testy and not even cool these days... "

That's what I just said to Sam. After he snapped at me for tickling his ear with one of my hairs while he was checking our stocks or something lame like that. And so, because I am by far the bigger person in our marriage (and by bigger, I just mean fatter... not like, more mature) I decided I would log immediately onto this blog and start Sam's birthday post... this way I figure I'll feel all lovey dovey towards him by the time I'm done writing. My only alternative is to stare at him, bore holes in the side of his head until he finishes, and then pick a fight with him for something he did back when we were dating. So here I am.

I'm the best.

Just look at my wee little laddy... when he was just a baby. He was turning 25 in this picture, and we had been dating for just 3 itty bitty months.

Today, however, Sam is turning 31 years old. And has become quite the man. And so, in honor of the glorious occasion, I will bestow upon you 31 quirky/funny/may make you a wee bit jealous tid bits about my darling husband.

And while this is in no way a comprehensive representation of who Sam is, it is, for whatever reason, the first 31 of many things that came to my mind.

In no particular order...

Sam is terrified of any and all medical procedures and will not tolerate me suggesting that he undergo any of them. Including the dentist. Which vexes me greatly as this means he will probably die at age 50.
He cuts his own hair, and has done so all of his adult life. This may come as an impressive surprise to many of you. He has great hair. And sexy sideburns.
He absolutely refuses to warm up my hands or feet and won't hesitate to resort to violence if I attempt to put them on him against his will. He is unmoved by my proclamations that warming a woman's hands in his own is as much a man's duty as mowing the lawn or taking out the garbage.
He is picky about how his skin (and mine) feels. Because of this, he will not shower before bed, stay in water long enough for his fingers to get wrinkly (I've seen him on more than one occasion sitting in a hot tub, holding his hands above the water like a weirdy), apply lotion or chapstick, and he accuses me regularly of having clammy and/or sweaty hands when I clearly do not. This makes him a stingey hand-holder and he will only humor me with hand-holding for 32 seconds at a time, under the most particular of circumstances.
He is a surprisingly agile and talented dancer--you know, the guys who dance around to be funny, but actually bust out super complex moves that, if given a little guidance, could lead to greatness? Yeah. That's him. Sorta like Jack Black.
Whenever we have people stay at our house, he feels put out for the sole reason that he has to have clothes on while they are here... and feels genuine dread for when our kids get old enough to know the difference.
He feels that under no circumstances I should have something to eat if he doesn't. It makes him feel utterly distraught and left out. This forces me to take great care when planning my treat consumption.
He somehow manages to be a super-overachiever while simultaneously maintaining a slacker attitude. Which gives me a false sense of security. Because I think I'm equally yoked to a slacker and don't have to do anything. Meanwhile he is secretly over-achieving the whole time. e.g. skipping class and never doing homework but somehow managing to land on the dean's list. Oh, and he landed, not one, but TWO super-sweet post-MBA job offers.
He becomes infuriated if I jump out and scare him. And once he recovers he will, without fail, deliver a lengthy lecture about how he should never be made to feel unsafe in his own home.
He gets really, adorably, pompous when Leah shows him any preferential treatment over me. And struts around like a rooster in a hen house whenever it happens. He doesn't know he does this.
He is a shamefully competitive game player. I have had many a deck of cards, or gamepiece pitched at my head in a rampage. He has called my mom "stupid" and accused her of cheating several times while playing cards with her. It is a side of him I will allow to be shown only to the closest of our friends, who have already proven their unconditional love.
He hates mashed potatoes and cottage cheese--which may have been a deal breaker, had I known before we got married. And he loves foreign cheeses.
He has never commented on another woman being attractive in front of me. Even on T.V. He acts as though he has never even thought about anyone else that way. In fact, even if I genuinely ask if he thinks someone is pretty, he will usually say, "I think you're pretty." Because of this, I have no idea what Sam's "type" is. So, even though his girlfriend before me was a petite blonde, I just have to assume I'm his type. Cause he married me and stuff. Oh, and because I have a girl-crush on Kim Kardashian and pester Sam about how beautiful I think she is, I have deduced that he doesn't find her revolting.
If I am craving or need something from the store, he will go out and get it right away no matter what time of night it is or how inconvenient, etc. This is something I thought was just "beginning of the relationship" chivalry, but it has not diminished in the slightest in our 6 years together.
He will watch chick flicks with me without complaining. And he'll also watch trashy reality shows with me, though he's generally shouting around and cursing at the people onscreen and chastising me for "watching this crap!" the whole time... still, he weathers the storm.
He is the most financially practical/savvy person I know, but never objects to spending money on anything I want. He always says something like, "if you want it, we'll work it out." And he means it. His attitude is a brilliant strategy because it makes me want to be super financially responsible to impress him.
He LOVES sports, but he never makes me feel like they take priority over me. In fact, he started watching a football game a bit ago, and just now he turned it off, looked at me and said, "I'm sorry I've been watching this game instead of hanging out with you. Did you want to do anything?" True story. Exact quote. I told him I was too busy surfing the net to hang out with him, though.
He is fiercely protective of his pillow and always accuses me of trying to steal it, even though I hate his stupid pillow... and all of its exceptional soft, fluffy goodness.
He becomes alarmingly enraged whenever he sees Beyonce dance--and has to stew about her being the ugliest or "most annoying dancer alive!!" for a full 15 minutes before he can get over it. Without fail. What's really weird is that I just found out her dancing has to exact same effect on my dad.
He is modest to a fault--like, to where I've actually heard him downplay his accomplishments to the point that he's no longer being honest. He has not one ounce of false pride.
He twirls the hair on the back of his head compulsively when he is concentrating. Count of Monte Cristo style.
Almost every time he comes home from the gym, the first thing he tells me is that there was some girl on the tredmill next to him, peeking at his stats and "trying to show him up."
He gets stressed out about breaking rules---like, he gets waaaay uncomfortable if I jaywalk or duck under a roped off area. It should be noted that his propensity for doing what he's "supposed to" does not apply to speeding or homework assignments.
When we lived in San Francisco and my best friend and her sister came to visit, Sam brought a book and drove us around everywhere we wanted all day long, and waited in the car reading until we were finished so we didnt have to deal with parking. This is not the only time he's done this sort of thing. And he'll do it if you come to visit, too... but he'll still feel a little put out that he has to wear clothes around you.
He is a sleep eater. See this post.
He is not physically affectionate by nature but has come a long way in overcoming being an "awkward hugger" since we've been together. Many people in his family are "awkward huggers." Sam's family, if you're reading this, I'm probably not talking about you... but I am probably talking about your husband.
He reads all of my blog posts, first for grammatical/spelling errors, and second for content. There is no "enjoying" until all of the mistakes have been corrected. This annoys me greatly. He'll do it to this post, too.
He is especially tender-hearted towards people he senses feel left out.
While we were dating, we never had a DTR (Define The Relationship) talk, but rather a WCIF (When Can I Fart?) talk. To Sam, that was our most important milestone. And he began doing it liberally directly following "the talk." I, on the other hand, don't know how...
He is a brilliant musician. In fact, the lyrics to even the catchiest songs elude him---but he always picks up on things I don't ever hear, and you can bet he can play every layer of the instrumental part by heart. And finally...
He is my very best friend in the whole, wide world. Which, it goes without saying, means he's pretty freaking cool.

See? Now I feel totally smitten with him.

Now send him presents. And cash.

Happy, happy birthday, baby!

Sam 1, Vanessa 0

2011-02-14T07:37:00.000-08:00

In our house, Valentine's Day is sandwiched between our anniversary and Sam's birthday, so it rarely gets any real attention. Because of this, Sam and I have lived in relative Valentine's Day ease our whole marriage--never bothering to get more than a bit of candy or a card or whatever.

However, last night, on Valentine's Day Eve, as I sat thinking about the coming holiday and how Sam probably hadn't planned much for it, if anything at all, I decided it bugged me. And the only option I had was to criticize him.

I like to do these kinds of "exercises" to make sure Sam doesn't get too comfortable, you see.

Me: So, why do you think we (you) are so lame about Valentine's Day?

Sam: I know, honey, I'm sorry. We should take more time to make it special.

I stewed for a minute. This was all very unsatisfying. He had given the perfect response... meant to instantly neutralize the threatening situation that he, no doubt, sensed was coming.

But I am especially talented at criticizing and was feeling bored, so I soldiered on.

Me: Well, thinking back on it, have you ever done anything special for me on Valentine's Day?

Sam: (Deep breath) I mean, I know I'm not the best gift-giver. It's kinda hard for me for some reason, but I know I've done a few special things.

Look at you, Sam. Being all cute and non-defensive.

Unacceptable.

Me: Name something.

Sam: Starts listing some of the things he's done.

Me: (cutting him off) Come to think of it, have you ever planned anything special for me at all??

Sam: (refusing to engage) A few things. But you're just a lot better than me at those things. I'll work on it, baby.

Me: Well, you just..... (enter list of embellished criticisms)

After a few minutes, I felt satisfied that he recognized my superiority in general and I forgave him and we made up.

**********************

This morning, much to my surprise, I stumbled out of bed to find flowers, chocolates, breakfast on the table, and my favorite hot chocolate (that he'd woken up early and snuck out of the house to get so it'd be piping hot) all waiting for me. Oh, and, he'd gotten Leah a valentine and himself a little something because he knew, with the new baby, I'd probably not gotten out to get him anything and he didn't want me to feel bad.

Sonoffabeach.

Eternal Sunshine...

2011-02-11T17:21:00.000-08:00

About three weeks after Sam and I became engaged, he left me in Utah to begin his career in San Francisco. I planned to go with him the weekend he left, to help him find an apartment and get settled, but about a week prior to our adventure I had to undergo an emergency root canal surgery, which subsequently got infected and left me barfing and in the most intense pain I had ever been in.

And so, the morning of his departure came and the two of us stood in front of his dad's house, crying and trying to say goodbye. Well, he was crying. I was more just misty-eyed and embarrassed.

Just kidding. I was ugly-face-tears-blending-in-with-snot crying and he had, maybe one, adorable tear trickling down his manly cheek. He was wearing a yellow t-shirt and baseball cap that day.

Anyway, we said goodbye and I watched through the blur as his maroon tacoma backed out of the drive and headed off down the street out of sight.

Not being one for theatrics, I threw myself onto the ground, sobbing wildly and rolling around, snorting and screaming and rubbing my face in the grass. I felt desperate. The only thing I could think to do was to call him. And so I did. And when he heard the tortured animal screeching on the other end of the line he came rushing back to me. When he pulled up, we just looked at each other all red faced and puffy, and laughed. And then I hopped in his truck. And with only the clothes on my back, we rode off into the sunset.

We are the freaking cutest.

But, it didn't take long for us to become painfully re-aware of why, exactly, I had originally planned not to leave with him that day. I was horribly nauseated and felt, pretty much, like someone was repeatedly taking a baseball bat to the side of my face.

We had been driving in agony for about an hour when Sam pulled off the side of the freeway. We prayed that I would be able to feel well enough to make the rest of the trip so that we could spend a little more time together. And we prayed to know to turn around if I wasn't going to be able to handle the weekend.

Directly after we ended our prayer, I got out of the truck and staggered a few feet away into the brush. And then I puked my guts out. And then I staggered a few feet further. And I peed. And then I felt like a million bucks.

I skipped back to the truck, all giddy and gleeful and feeling great, to my little husband-to-be, who was sitting there, completely horrified by what he had just witnessed. He stared at me for a second, and I smiled back at him, like, "what??" and he was all, "you just pretty much barfed and popped a squat at the same time." And I was like, "yeah" and then we laughed and I charlie-horsed him for pretending it wasn't the cutest thing ever.

And we had a lovely weekend together in San Francisco.

Later, Sam told me that he had never felt so certain that he wanted to marry me than in that moment, watching me stumble around in the weeds by the side of the freeway.

No... No he didn't. But you can imagine what it would have been like if he did.

He mostly just said he thought it was pretty gross and a little endearing but mostly just gross.

Now, why am I telling you this story, you ask? Well, because today is our anniversary. And you get to tell these kinds of things unabashedly on your anniversary. And while Sam has to be in New York City on this day of days, I'm sitting here, dreaming of him and thinking back on some of our stories... and this one happens to be one of my favorites.

So, here's to five years of love and adventure, my darling. I miss you. Happy Anniversary!

Hurricane Leah...

2011-02-01T09:23:00.000-08:00

Today, as I sat stewing over where in the crap all my time goes, I had an epiphany.

Here is my apartment at a random point in time this morning...

Less than 30 minutes after random point in time...

This pattern repeats itself no less than five times each day. And then I cry myself to sleep.

But I forgive them...

And take it out on their dad.

Spontaneous Vacay

2011-01-29T14:33:00.000-08:00

I feel like I've been such a dud in the blogging department lately. I've officially lost all personality and zest for life. Also known as, having a newborn. In fact, I looked at Sam today and actually shouted, "I hate my life!" Ever have days like that? No? No you don't? Oh. Me neither.

Anyway, I will move forward! And continue documenting no matter how blah it is. Now love me.

Ok, so remember how I was setting up shop in the bog of eternal stench after my sister left? Well, an impromptu getaway to a creepy little town called Wisconsin Dells works pretty well as a quick pick me up. What is Wisconsin Dells, you ask? Well, it goes a little somethin' like this...

Except it's January... so it actually looked a little more like this:

Which is why I say "creepy." Because this image kept creeping its way into my psyche throughout the weekend...

Annnyway, the secret to this place being an excellent little adventure during the winter is that once you get to the inside and past all the "creepy," it looks like this:

That's right. Wisconsin Dells is like, the capital of all indoor water park... places. SO, after sitting together in the Tot Lot, watching our tots play together, the Snows, Bischoffs, and us decided to hop in the car and make the three hour trek to the Dells for a little waterslide extravaganza.

We arrived in the early evening and gathered together, all bright eyed and bushy-tailed, to head off to the pricey resort buffet for dinner.

And while my slightly white trash upbringing in Idaho Falls has instilled in me a shameful love of buffets, and I will generally fiercely defend them, even I will admit that our dinner was no better than poo on a stick. And our high hopes were dashed to the ground.

After downing some imodium and putting all of our munchkins to bed, we had a little powwow out in the hallway. We laughed. We cried. We shared pant-pooping stories (not kidding) and hi-fived the night away. And then Sam emerged from our room toting a 12 pack of diet dew and a princess blanky and things really got crazy.

I think Matt and Sam's faces in this photo really capture the spirit of the evening...

Let's take a closer look, shall we?

I like to call it "Happy Delirium."

This one's better

Though, by this point, Sam had pounded a few more diet dews.

Let's bring it on in again...

Completely shiz-faced, this one.

The next morning Leah wanted to get into her swimsuit immediately. She ran around in her suit and boots for three straight hours before we could actually go to the water park. I say, if you've got it, flaunt it. Until you get boobs.

Dad and the Turkey Sub preparing to make the Mayan Temple their biznatch.

Josh: "Don't think I won't kiss you just because my mother is watching."

Leah: "Gasp!"

Josh maaay have turned his head as Leah went in for the kill, resulting in an oafy head-butt.

Mimi: "See? You shouldn't be kissing at this age... you're too uncoordinated."

Mimi: "Yes. Yes, that's better."

Josh: "Meet me behind the tube rental."

Ah mi... young love...

Leah spent much of her time at the water cannons...

... shooting Matt

This Tiny Tuna spent much of the day doing this...

And I spent much of the day watching her, feeling jealous. What I wouldn't give to have Sam tote me around in an adult sized carriage all day so I could snooze at my leisure...

Getting cuter by the second. I can't even handle her.

And finally, I just have to share a side by side comparison of my little ladies, who have both displayed exemplary talent at being deliciously chubily...

Baby Leah at 6 weeks:

And Baby Eve, following in her sister's footsteps at 8:

Proud mama right here.

Wait, wait... one more tasty tidbit I almost forgot...

Sam (while looking at Leah before this picture was taken): What's up with Leah's Jesus hair?

Me (laughing): That's going on the blog.

Sam: You can't put that on the blog, it's blasphemous.

Me: Sorry 'bout your luck.

**Note: My sister, Meradith, upon reading this blog and before reading what Sam said about Leah's hair said, "Oh my gosh, Leah looks like one of those homeless Jesus wannabes in this picture!"

To which I said, "READ WHAT SAM SAID AND STOP TRYING TO RUIN THE SURPRISE!"

We laughed for days.

Jesus hair indeed.

L-O-V-E spells BETHANY!!

2011-01-23T21:04:00.000-08:00

That's right folks. My sissy, Bethany, came to town to visit--which you know translates into me being high as a kite for the week leading up to her arrival and during her stay, and then sends me plummeting into the bog of eternal stench for weeks after she leaves. And so, if you do the math, you can guess how I feel right now.... Yep, the stench part. In fact, I just saw Leah rummaging around in the couch cushions and crunching up something she found therein, and all I could muster was a half-hearted whisper shout that was supposed to be "help!" but sounded more like "hwarp!" from the little nest of blankets where I'm currently roosting in my big recliner chair. I'm not sure who I was expecting to come help me anyway because Sam's at class. Maybe I thought little Eve would spring from her bouncer and wrestle Leah's little treasure away from her... anyway, the point is I miss my sistee.

I blame you.

Not really. But kinda. Actually, I'll just make an executive decision to blame Sam.

Now I will show you pictures of her.

Oh, and if you'd like to see her first trip to Chicago, you can look here. We were a little bit more adventurous that time around, but that's just because I wasn't in a postpartum coma.

Upon arriving, Bethany brought Leah a princess nighty. Unfortunately, it was one Leah already had... and so instead she gave her this fancy book.

And adorned her with jewels...

And we kept the nighty anyway.

We had to start off with a bit of the Chicago good life in the form of deep dish pizza. Which, because I've been depriving myself of all things yummy since Eve's birth, tasted like straight manna and I had no choice but to rub the leftovers all over my body.

Even though Bethany grew up in Idaho like the rest of us, her time in Arizona has turned her into quite the wuss (minus the "w" and add a "p" for the full effect) when it comes to cold weather. She would pretty much tremble and quake even looking outside. Because of this, we left the house a total of three times. One of these little ventures was a stroll to Dunkin' Donuts to get white chocolate hot chocolate... which, I will tell you right now, is the single most delicious drink in the world and I demand you get one immediately. And then you will worship me for leading you to it.

Bethany snapped this shot along the way and I think captures our little urban life quite nicely...

One of the glorious things about the women in my family is that they all have "the touch" with my children. Which means there is basically a clone of me around when dealing with them. So Bethany spent much of her time holding my second little gremlin and making our home peaceful and glorious in general.

We left both babies with Sam and treated ourselves to our traditional matching pedicures.

It was a nearly perfect afternoon, except it took longer than expected so when we got home Sam was sweaty and crying and bouncing a hysterical Eve on our exercise ball while trying to simultaneously run the vacuum cleaner. He's a good boy.

On our cab ride home. No, no that's not quite right, Vanessa.

There you go. That's better.

It was a glorious trip, indeed! And, now that you've seen how awesome she is, I know you are all sinking into a post sister funk right a long with me, so I'll brighten your day with a shot of this little Tuna smiling. Because she's brand new at it. And I think she may have a dimple...

HALLA!!!-daze!

2010-12-31T23:48:00.000-08:00

I'm writing this post under duress. At this very moment Sam and Leah are at Target, skipping down the aisles, hand in hand, tossing loot into that big red basket to their little hearts' desire, and I'm sitting here, looking over my shoulder every five seconds, trembling and terrified, at a tiny sleeping giant who is starting to stir--promising to ruin my little bit of heaven with this blog post of mine. My nerves are shot.

Just look at her--pretending to be all serene and lovely:

Don't let her fool you. One false move and she'll hand you your *expletive* on a platter. And she's not afraid to fight dirty:

Sam's chest is like cat nip to her... she becomes a complete loon. Just look at the crazy in her eyes. It should be noted, there were blood curdling screams emanating from both Eve AND Sam as this picture was taken.

In any case, I'm under contract to get the glamourous Palmer Family Twenty Ten Holiday Extravaganza (said in Bob Barker voice) documented, so I'll selflessly continue pecking away at my computer until Eve awakens and lops off my head.

Ahem!

Thanksgiving this year was a dining fiesta of gargantuan proportions. We celebrated with our fellow business school compadres who I can say, may as well be family. I felt particularly honored to be a part of this meal because we were certain that I would be in the hospital or just recovering from delivery and would miss the grand event. But Eve knows I take my Turkey Day seriously, so she graciously stayed put until I could sufficiently stuff my face.

Just look at this spread:

Muy dilicioso!

Not sure why Sam thought Thanksgiving was an appropriate time to tell Matt he just wanted to be friends. You can just see the contempt on Matt's face. Trying so hard to remain composed. It was awkward for all involved.

Notice the lack of conversing in this photo. Shoveling. Just shoveling.

Matt completed his final rite of passage into manhood as this year's Turkey Master. This exempted him from participating in the post-dinner "feats of strength," where the remaining men were made to prove themselves as manly as him. They failed. Turns out nothing's manlier than a motorized knife.

The men, talking about men things. And feeding the babies.

Leah takes her turkey day feasting seriously. Only the most committed of holiday diners remove their clothing. This allows for maximum unencumbered stomach expansion. She learned this from her father... who was sitting in the buff just out of camera shot.

Thanksgiving was excellent. In fact, sometimes I cry thinking about it. Mostly just because I'm on my post-baby deprivation diet.

On to Christmas!

Extremely uneventful. Just our little family---Oh and the greedy, raging hooch who possessed Leah after she opened all of her holiday bounty. It was super fun listening to her demanding more presents and snapping her fangs at anyone who attempted to touch any of her loot. We called her "Steroid Lyza."

We decided to venture out of our cave and go to Cheesecake Factory for Christmas Eve dinner. Way festive. This is the single, solitary photo that was taken... aside from an unflattering shot of me nursing Eve that Sam took. These two are pretty cute, though. And I believe Sam is about to intervene in a stealth french-fry swipe attempt with a judo chop.

Christmas morning. The only presents that got wrapped and made it under the tree were for Leah. Lots of energy these days, folks!

The aftermath:

After all the paper was cleaned up and the toys were hidden from Steroid Lyza, Leah came back to play and she and Sam engaged in some sophisticated fort building.

And finally the Turkey Sub returned to her regular self... specializing in being cute.

And sexy...

George Costanza anyone? Anyone?

The highlight of the day was Leah and Eve's surprise present to Sam and me:

We had absolutely no idea they had been planning all along to fall asleep at the same time. The little stinkers! So thoughtful. Sam and I went freaking crazy for 20 whole minutes all by ourselves. Best. Gift. Ever.

And finally New Years!

Pretty much consisted of a killer party with friends... that lasted til 7:30PM. Cause we're hard core like that.

Please excuse the poor quality of the pictures. Leah changed a setting on my camera that I can't seem to be able to change back. And it made me less than inspired about picture taking so there are only a few.

Anyway, we're so crazy, even the missionaries come to OUR parties:

There was a pinata:

Topped off with some drawer filling:

Some sleeping:

Great food and great company. It may look innocent, but Lisa's face tells a different story. Complete debauchery, my friends.

Oh, and a New Year's Kiss between Sam and me that was TOO HOT FOR TV! And may or may not have been an afterthought once we got in bed. And Sam may have been asleep already. Creepy?

I'll wrap things up with a rare photo of Lil' Tuna, both awake AND happy. Isn't she lovely?

This Holiday Season was memorable and great. I may have ended up getting a big reality slap in the face, because my plans were a little ambitious for having a newby on hand, but it was wonderful nonetheless. Hope you all had a fab finale to your 2010! Thanks for reading.

Eve Overload

2010-12-12T08:14:00.000-08:00

I have a severe case of postpartum brain mush, but I have lots of pictures to make up for it! Lil' Tuna has been an absolute slice of heaven since her arrival, so I had no choice but to take a million shots of her from slightly different angles and post them all here for your viewing pleasure.

This was actually the third of this exact same pose. Leah kept saying, "One more time to give kisses." You'll notice Eve making her "about to leach on to Leah's cheek in a rooting attack" face.

Big eyes...

Leah has been only mildly interested in Eve, which makes things pretty easy for me. Though, she does feverishly rub her head whenever she gets the chance.

The stuff my dreams are made of...

This sight has struck terror in the hearts of mothers and fathers across our apartment no less than six hundred times since bringing Eve home from the hospital. Curse you, Eve-sized baby doll impostor.

Taking Grammy to the airport. Leah is going through withdrawals already.

Contemplating the world....

And finally, my own little milkmaid. So helpful and selfless.

More pictures to come--and a million other updates---once my brain has returned to its normal form.

Over the Moon!

2010-12-02T09:19:00.000-08:00

She has arrived!!! Sunday, November, 28th 2010 at 6:27PM, Eve Sophia made her glorious and dramatic debut--pretty much improving conditions around the world for everyone in general. Well, with the exception of her elder sister, who, amidst moments of doting and cooing over our new little bundle, has been feeling quite put out. Cool your jets, Little Leah, you'll soon realize there is nothing in life better than sisters.

I'll start with some pictures. She is perfect and delicious, after all.

She tipped the scales at a whooping 6lbs 7oz. So tiny.

The Turkey Sub asked immediately in her highest, sweetest voice if she could hold baby and I've never witnessed so much cheesy goodness watching her kissing her little sister's head and saying, "oooh, she's so cute!" and touching her face and loving her up a storm.

Tired Dad.

There is nothing quite so excellent and preposterous as these teeny new babes all strapped in to their huge car seats. Getting ready to head home from the hospital.

Now, for those of you who are interested, let's get down to the nitty gritty. I will say, the birth of this little one didn't turn out quite as I had planned. On Sunday morning I started having contractions and labored at home until 3:00PM, when Sam and I left Leah and Grammy at home and headed off to the hospital. To our surprise, upon arriving, I was already dilated to 6 cm. The nurse was like, "What on earth have you been doing to manage your pain?!" My response was obvious, "Well, I'm pretty much awesome."

At that point they checked me in and I immediately started shouting around for an epidural. Those of you who know me, know I don't pretend to be brave or gracious about childbirth. Which is precisely what made this next part so horrifying.

"Alright Vanessa, we've got some bad news, there's someone ahead of you for an epidural so it's going to be a bit. We can give you some intravenous meds to take the edge off in the mean time..."

My contractions were getting unbearable, so I enthusiastically agreed to any kind of relief. My midwife came in to check me before administering the pain killers... to her surprise, I was dilated to 9cm. And then, in what can only be described as the slow-motion voice of Satan, she looked at me and said,

"NOOO MEDICINE FOOOORR YYYOOOOUU!!!!"

Then she threw her head back in maniacal laughter.

At that moment, my world came crashing down around me. I didn't hold back. I shouted "WhaAAAT!?!!" and started objecting and kicking at the nurses and attempting escape.

She grabbed my face, her red eyes burning into mine, and said, "Listen to me, Vanessa! It's too late, it's not safe to take any medicine, you're having this baby right now!"

Now, I know some of you may think I'm being dramatic, but I need to make it clear that the thought of natural childbirth has always been horrifying and preposterous to me. Like, signing up to have your leg amputated without any anesthesia. Or agreeing to get punched in the face everyday. Just for fun. Like, not even a consideration. Ever. I don't care that women have done it since the beginning of time, or that our bodies were made to do it. I literally felt like I was being sentenced to torture. And there was nothing I could do about it. And I was sure my granola midwife had plotted it that way all along.

The next five minutes were so chaotic and ridiculous I can't even think about them without laughing and crying at the same time. I was angry and terrified... and still shouting out futile objections... and the next thing I knew, the table was collapsed and I screamed, "She's cooooming!!!" and then something like, "I think I'm peeing!" and in one push, one EXCRUCIATING push, this lil' Tuna came shooting out. Literally, shooting out. Like, she got air.

And then I heard her sweet little newby cry, and everything was right in the world. I felt immediately overcome with love and endorphins and everything good. And I forgave everyone in the room, thanked them for getting my new little loaf here safely, and apologized for all the names I'd called them... except for my widwife, who I still hate.

BUT, I will say, Eve is the sweetest, most delectable little angel baby and I'd easily go through her delivery 100 times over to get her here. So far, my adjustment to two, with the help of my mama and glorious husby, has been peaceful and lovely.

I can't wait for you to meet her.

12-Year-Old Fraud

2010-11-21T08:20:00.000-08:00

Because there is NOTHING going on in my life except a lot of grunting and panting and avoiding reaching for things while I wait for this little chubbily to make an appearance, I offer you this:

When I was 12 years old, my 7th grade english teacher, Mr. Hancock, assigned us the task of compiling an original book of poetry. I was pretty much the teacher's pet poster child in those days, loving nothing more than dazzling my various teachers with my maturity and (perceived) superior intellect. I lived for their praise and played the part beautifully... always going the extra mile, getting chosen for special projects and leadership positions, oozing with flattery and butt-kissing. You know the kind... you may have been one yourself. In which case, I salute you, because only those of us who fell into this category know the hard work and calculated dedication required for that kind of status.

My parents were proud of my accomplishments, but there was always a hint of amusement (or resentment) in their voices when they would recount the praises my teachers would sing come parent-teacher conferences, or the smug congratulations I would give myself upon presenting them with another 100% or straight-A report card. Because the truth of the matter was this; at home, I was a beast.

This Dr. Jeckle/Mr. Hyde charade continued until just after my Sophomore year in High School, when I cooled my jets a little and settled into the joys playing a little hookie can bring, completing my Senior year with a whopping 33% attendance. I had seen the light, and it no longer consisted of the sun shining out of my teachers'.... faces.

Back to my 7th grade poetry assignment. My sister was kind enough to rummage through a box of my old school papers where she found a little gem I wrote in the form of a poem called, "My family's first aid kit." Please note the fraud in the final lines. I made them big and red for you.

My Family's First Aid Kit

My family lives inside a first aid kit.

Dad's the boss, the box

on the outside that holds the whole family together.

Strong and powerful.

Mom tries her hardest, the tube of Neosporin

used to heal and nurture

us kids when we're down or sick.

Jesse is just kind of there, the medium-sized

band aid, very important

but not always as useful when times get tough.

Abe is loving and caring, the ace bandage

that is always willing to wrap one up

in a hug in times of need.

Bethany is important, the hydrogen peroxide,

stinging at times but in the end

is always helpful

Meradith is the tweezers, always

the busy body, poking around this way and that.

And I am the delicate cotton ball, still important

but often forgotten.

As soft and as loving as I can be....

Sigh...

Oh, 12-year-old self,

You were so picked on and misunderstood. And so, so loving, little cotton ball. The way you used to bully your overdevelopedandslightlychubby way around the house until you got what you wanted. And how you were such an opinionated, entitled, little know-it-all. How I wish I could spend a few moments with you to give you all the attention you deserved... to slap you across the face for being such a little, brown-nosing turd.

You're lucky you're so cool now.

Love,

25-year-old self

Hodgepodge Update

2010-11-10T06:23:00.001-08:00

So, it's been 11 days since "the incident" and our little Turkey Sub is healing up like a champ. There have been literally zero inconveniences or complications with Leah's recovery... aside from her occasionally catching sight of herself in the mirror, double taking, zooming in and becoming mildly concerned and agitated that her pageant days may be over...

BUT, because inquiring minds want to know, here is a picture I took no more than 47 seconds ago just for this here post--see how on the ball I am?

95% of the bruising/swelling is gone and even a few of her stitches have already dissolved. So happy. So proud of my little Sub.

I took her in yesterday for her follow up doctor's appointment. They scheduled me to see Dr. Song, who happens to be the head of plastic surgery at U of Chicago. He acted exactly like Dr. 90210. Ever see the show? Anyway, he was all schmoozy and charming and over-complimentary... in the way that makes you immediately feel like you're getting duped. I found myself feeling all insecure and dodgy, waiting for him to try to lure me to a safe and happy place before starting to judge me and suggest "improvements." And cursing myself for not wearing a real bra instead of my night time/zero support nursing one.

By the end of the appointment I found myself wanting to respond to everything he said with squinty-eyed suspicion and defensiveness...

"You're gonna want to rub a little bit of lotion on her stitches at night to help them dissolve. But other than that, she looks just perfect!"

"Oh REALLY!?!? You calling me FAT now, doc?!?! You go to hell!!"

It was a strange, self-reflective experience. But clearly his fault.

I'll prolly call him up for a consultation after Lil' Tuna gets here.

In other news, Sam got a stellar job offer in Newport Beach, CA. He's still waiting to hear from several other firms before we make our final decision--in fact, he's flying to NYC, Milwaukee, and LA this week for final interviews at 4 firms that he would consider taking as well. And he's got a couple prospects here in Chicago, too--so, we're still up in the air. And yes, I realize all of those other locations are far pooier (poohier? pooeyer?) than Newport Beach. But aside from all that, we're just feeling fat n' happy having something spectacular nailed down.

And lastly, I've just been busy baking baby and having lots of false alarms--one of which resulted in me being on strict bed rest for the weekend. A "nesting" mother on bed rest has a sort of catforcedintobathtub effect. Except with more witching and shouting around and scratching and hissing and blaming Sam for everything... all with my dainty little feet elevated on a stack of pillows. I just about lost my mind.

My time off did allow for some good home video watching. I've found myself especially smitten with "baby Leah" in anticipation for the arrival of her little sissy. I've watched this little clip no less than 14 times over the last few days. And I nearly sprout wings and take flight each time:

So, Halloween Tried to Kill My Family...

2010-11-01T06:40:00.000-07:00

WARNING! Graphic Photo Alert. Viewer discretion is advised.

Well, Halloween 2010 didn't end up being quite the party we would have imagined. In fact, next Halloween I'll probably end up having some sort of anxiety attack in remembrance of this one. I don't have much energy to put into writing this, and there's a lot to say, so I'm just kinda gonna spew it all out.

The day began typically. I woke up feeling off, so Sam and Leah ventured out to the first little party of the day and had a splendid time. While they were gone, my "off" feeling graduated to "debilitating" in the form of searing pain in my upper right abdominal/rib area, a migraine, and contractions. I'm generally not an alarmist so I held off calling my doctor until about 2PM. She was immediately concerned I was having a gall bladder attack and sent me to the hospital.

We left Leah with the Bischoffs and headed off for tests, monitoring, and an ultrasound. Our ward Halloween party started at 5:00PM, so we knew we'd miss it but were happy for Leah to be able to still go and have fun with our friends. Then things got really interesting. After 4 hours wasted at the hospital for them to diagnose me with a UTI and a displaced rib (thanks a lot baby #2!) we checked out and noticed we had a missed call from our friend, Matt. While Sam tried to call him back we received the following text:

"Hey Sam, sorry to do this to you while you're in this situation, but Leah fell at the church and cut her cheek and is probably going to need some stitches. We need to know how to talk to one of you two to get consent for them to do it."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It turns out she was running around with the other munchkins and tripped and fell into a chair that had a plastic hook on the side so it could be attached to other chairs. Her face hit the hook directly. I felt complete panic and instantly overwhelmed with sadness that I wasn't there with her. We were about 20 minutes away from the U of Chicago emergency room so Sam rad-mobiled it through traffic and got to the ER just as Matt and Mimi got Leah checked in. My heart completely broke when I saw my little Turkey Sub in her little witch costume, covered in blood and bandages, and nestled into Mimi's neck. In that instant I was simultaneously horrified and filled with overwhelming gratitude for our wonderful friends for taking care of her.

Leah was so pitiful. She was exhausted (she had just attended her second party of the day, after all, and it was 40 minutes past her bedtime. Oh, and she had a really bloody face).

(Waiting to get placed in a room. The shirt she is wearing was her under shirt, her costume was completely soaked in blood.)

The ER doctor came in and examined her wound. (Can I just say right now that overly-dramatic doctors need to be shot? That's all.) He proceeded to tell us that she would need to be placed under general anesthesia and that she would need two layers of stitching to repair the wound. She was also going to need a cat scan and imagining of her face to reconstruct her nose if needed. And he expressed lots of concern about her face and nose healing well, etc. It was super fun to hear his speculations about her looking possibly like Frankenstein. Oh, and he got all defensive when we asked him if a plastic surgeon would be working on Leah. "Um. We're all pretty good a stitches," was his response. Turns out they always have a PS do facial repairs, but I'm sure glad he let us know he's good at stitches.

The thought of putting her under made me uneasy, not to mention we'd have to wait an additional 6 hours minimum for her stomach to empty to even start the procedure. I just couldn't feel good about it so we were relieved when the plastic surgeon arrived and told us that we could try a local anesthesia if Leah would tolerate it. This would mean she would have to inject the anesthesia directly into the wound over a course of three injections. Then Leah would have to sit through the stitching while awake. The surgeon said it's nearly impossible considering her age, and that it was often very traumatic for children and parents much older than Leah, but she would be willing to try it if that's what we wanted.

We needed a few minutes to decide and prayed fervently that we would be able to know what would be best for Little Lee. We felt strongly that the local anesthesia was best and so we decided to move forward. We, along with the doctor, were completely dumbfounded when Leah fell asleep in my arms and proceeded to SNOOZE through the numbing injections in her face! The doctor said she had never seen ANYTHING like it in her life. We couldn't believe it.

(Sleeping right before getting numbed)

Shortly after the numbing, Leah woke up and Lincoln and Matt came back to the hospital to help give her a blessing. We knew the actual procedure would be an uphill battle and if we couldn't get her to stay completely still, it would be impossible to sew her up. Sam blessed her that she would be able to do it and by the end of the blessing, she was fast asleep in my arms again.

(Awake and a little miserable after her injections)

We quickly notified the doctor and she came in and got to work repairing Leah's nose. Again, we were beside ourselves as Leah proceeded to sleep through receiving nine out of ten stitches. She woke up just before the doctor finished and wouldn't hold still any longer, but the skin was lined up perfectly so our doctor was able to just use a dab of skin glue to finish up. It was a complete miracle!

(All cleaned up and put back together)

Directly after her face was repaired, our Turkey Sub got right back to business flirting with the hospital staff and harassing her parents. I've never felt so relieved to see her little smile. I can't even think about it without getting emotional. Heavenly Father took such mercy on our little munchkin, and even more so, on Sam and me.

The morning after, back to her regular antics, just looking a little different:

We were pretty excited because her face didn't look too bad after the first night but it just keeps getting more and more swollen and bruised. I keep getting startled looking at her. She doesn't look anything like herself. Poor little lamb.

The last few pictures were taken last night, and as of this morning, her left eye is completely blue and almost swollen shut. I can't believe how resilient kids are, though. She's as happy as ever!

I can't even begin to describe how grateful I am for our wonderful friends who I know I can trust completely with those things that are most precious to me. I know it was such a stressful, panicky ordeal for them to go through, especially with someone else's child. I can't even imagine. And most importantly, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude for a loving Heavenly Father who is so keenly aware of the suffering of his little ones. This experience reminded me that Leah is His daughter, even more than my own. I'm so thankful for His continual tender mercies in my life.

Blah and Yay... Random Post.

2010-10-20T06:49:00.000-07:00

So, I've reached that point. That one point in pregnancy when you can't breath or get comfortable EVER. And you start to get annoyed with the sound of your own complain-y voice. And because you complain so much, your husband loses all sympathy for you (except for his OWN magically imagined "sympathy" aches and pains that require massaging) because he's become desensitized to your "pitiful" face and grunts and groans and frustrations with your huge, lumbery, prison of a planet body.

In a desperate attempt to feel validated for my less than perky demeanor, I lovingly provided Sam with a small, but poignant demonstration. I had him sit on the couch and, not without great effort, climbed aboard and put my knee in his diaphragm. Then I shoved one fist in his bladder and the other under his ribs on one side and told him to go ahead and get comfortable like that so we could relax and watch some TV. Then I sat there all smug for my ingenious empathy-inducing object lesson.

I've had to repeat my demonstration a couple times since then, pretty much just whenever Sam starts getting that less-than-perfectly-understanding-and-doting look about him. He's really grateful I'm so willing to take the time to teach him exactly how sorry he should feel for me...

Don't be jealous.

BUT, aside from all THAT, I will say, autumn in Hyde Park makes me all mushy inside. There's so much lush, colorful goodness that I can't help but feel invigorated whenever I venture out of my apartment---once a week.

We made our way to the annual pumpkin patch/apple orchard fiesta in Indiana last week and had ourselves a glorious time. In fact, I was so drunk off of fresh cider, fudge and pumpkin donuts I hardly took any pictures at all.

But alas, there are a few to share:

The munchkin herd. Notice the "3 Little Pigs" homes behind them. The two little imps on the right holding hands were discovered trying to sneak off to the grass one for a little alone time.

No, but seriously, we have been startled to happen upon them smooching a time or two. Like, serious smooching. Josh, however, HAS been rumored to be romancing a slightly younger woman in our group of friends as well. One with an equally luscious hairdo... So I've been trying to teach Leah a few of her mother's "hard to get" tricks. Seeing how she is generally the big fat kissing instigator, I don't think it's sinking in... the little hussy.

Some of the gang.

Leah was a power monger with her little map, shouting around directions and being a bully in general. Till we mocked her mercilessly for carrying it upside down.

Matt, Mimi and Josh on the tractor out to the orchard.

Seconds before the Pumpkin Police had to taze Sam for getting unruly with the squash.

What is it with overaged children turning into crazed lunatics when presented with a swarm of toddlers and toddler-aged toys? I swear, the next 5+ year old I see fighting with a 2 year old over a trike is going to get leg-clipped from behind. By ME. Oh, and their parents, too.

Sorry. Merely spouting off a little steam about Leah's ill-fated attempts to play with this here little tractor amidst a gang of unsupervised 5-year-old hoodlums wreaking havoc in the toddler play area.

Speaking of, I couldn't resist snapping a few incognito shots of this little gem who was king konging around the fun toys at the mall...

His awesome mom lovingly ignored all of the blaring height and age limit signs that day and dropped him off so she could get some much needed shopping time by herself...

This next one is my favorite... in the infant play section:

It was a precarious situation for all children involved that day. Leah, in particular, came dangerously close to losing her life on five separate occasions... but I'm super glad his mom got to have some "me" time.

End Tangent.

This little beauty (Carina's newest addition)...

...had her baby blessing two Sundays ago and we were thrilled to host the post-blessing luncheon at our house.

There was delicious cuisine...

And delicious company...

(You'll notice the extreme duress my non-maternity shirt is under in this picture. Poor little shirt. Never hurt a fly.)

I didn't take one single picture the whole time so I had to steal these from Carina. BUT, our house was happily packed with love and laughter and high-fiving... my very favorite things.

The end for now.

This One Will Warm Your Little Heart...

2010-10-11T10:57:00.000-07:00

and a little fat...

BUT, this post is in no way meant to make any of you feel bad for me... or to prompt you to tell me "you look great!" or anything like that. Prrrromise. Because I REALLY haven't been feeling sorry for myself. AT ALL! I just wanted to share a few of the preposteries (that's right, preposteries) that have been lovingly lobbed in my direction during this pregnancy, by people that weren't you. Because they'll make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And because for some reason, people don't have much of a filter with me when I'm pregnant. And a few of these zingers will really blow your mind.

These are all direct quotes, mind you. I'm not exaggerating. I remember them exactly because these sorts of things, when directed at you personally, get seared right into your brain forever....

"Oooh, last time I saw you, I remembered you skinny." (Said by a man, no less)

"If I had to choose someone to be in my handcart company, I'd choose a strong, useful, thick woman like you, Vanessa." What a great compliment! If you ran into trouble, I'd probably be the first person you'd eat, too!

"So how come your sister stays so skinny, when you just blow up like a whale during your pregnancies?" How would you answer this? I just sort of stood there, blinking... and said, Um, I don't know?

"Oh my gosh, it looks like you're carrying most of that baby right in your face!" Mmmmm. I feel perdy.

"I just think you're so beautiful! So classic! Like one of those old movie stars... ya know, cause they had big boobs and hips and carried extra weight on them back then." The first part of this sentence was most excellent... and I was getting all puffed up with pride... then came that "extra weight" death blow, like someone saying, "You know what celeb you look EXACTLY like? Roseanne!" Yes!

(As Sam was helping me off the couch) "Hahaha you just looked exactly like this 500lb woman I used to care for at (insert name of convalescent home where this person worked)."

"Oh wow, you look like a big, comfy whale sitting there!" (That makes two whale comparisons, folks. TWO!)

"Your belly is getting so big! And you look actually pregnant, not just like, fat." (WHAAT!? haha!)

Alright, those are the best ones I can remember for now. Needless to say, I'm anxious for this babeh to get here for more reasons than just wanting to meet her.

In other news, I moved my couches and vacuumed under them. So that's good.