tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47812042120279525412023-11-16T01:57:42.624-06:00poor historiankristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.comBlogger403125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-24678001530072555162012-02-14T09:33:00.000-06:002012-02-14T09:33:00.631-06:00happy valentine's day!<a href="http://frugaldad.com/proflowers/"><img src="http://fdcdn.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/120207Valentines.jpg" alt="infographic" width="500" border="0" /></a><br /><p>Source: <a href="http://frugaldad.com/">frugaldad.com</a></p><br /><p></p>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-78648917359779116132012-02-10T09:23:00.005-06:002012-02-10T12:42:53.649-06:00why "welcome to parenthood" is the least helpful thing you can say to someone<p class="MsoNormal">This morning a friend posted about something exasperating that her child was doing lately. After three or four comments that were either sympathetic or jocular, someone chimed in with a phrase that absolutely makes me clench my teeth in rage: “welcome to parenthood!” <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I hate you, “welcome to parenthood.” When you post a comment like that I feel you’re saying that you think one of two things about me. The first is that I am actually new to this. Welcome to parenthood, hope your first day goes well, you’ll say to me affectionately. Of course you know this isn’t my first day. While not as long in the tooth as some mothers, I have been at this pretty steady for the past 15 months and I think it’s time we stop regarding me as particularly “new” at this. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The second thing you could be saying about me is that you think the thing I’ve posted is rather naïve, and you’re sarcastically letting me know that’s how you feel, albeit in a cheery, exclamation-marky kind of way. You’re right, how naïve of me to deal with a shitty situation like vomit all over my face, or 4:00 a.m. wake-up calls, with levity and a chance to commiserate with others. Returning to the friend’s post, the one with the comment inspiring this rant, I can tell you there was nothing naïve or silly about it (and if this isn’t obvious, I have a hair trigger reaction to shit that is too silly for facebook, I could make a career out of getting annoyed at people who are lame online). <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I suppose a third option is that you’re making a joke. But that’s not a very funny joke. You fail joke school with that joke. Facebook doesn’t require you to post a response like this is a live conversation or something, and you have all the time you need so that next time you can come up with a real joke. I suggest you use that time. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In my experience there are two classes of parenting facebook post, “welcome to parenthood.” The first is the “genuinely asking for advice” post, of which I have made a few. What do I pay a babysitter? What time does every other baby go to bed? I have received great answers to these questions and a couple of good jokes (my favorite was in response to the babysitter question: “Doug stays home. I’ll go out with you. Free babysitting and better company for you”). We already know that “welcome to parenthood” is not a funny joke, but did you know that it’s also not helpful advice? You fail. <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Another common reason someone posts about a problem with their child, or an insane circumstance, or the weirdest most messed-up mess that kid could have made, is because if they don’t laugh, they’ll cry. You must be a parent too, “welcome to parenthood.” If you’re not, I HATE YOU TWICE. But, assuming you are, you have probably been to hell and back, you have been in the trenches with diapers and illnesses and rotten behavior, you have blown all your money on food and toys and clothes, you have done without personal time or showers , and you MUST know how important it is to giggle at the absurdity every once in a while. The appropriate response to this kind of post is often sympathy. It could be something innocuous like “oh you poor thing, hang in there baby!” Or maybe you could post about a similar experience, thus keeping the yuks going. “Welcome to parenthood” is not a funny joke, I can’t state this enough. And when all is said and done even “LOL” would be preferable. “LOL” is not very original, funny, or even remotely necessary to the conversation (remember, you aren’t actually obligated to respond!) but at least it will never be interpreted as smug or condescending by an incredibly frazzled mother who’s just been up all night, or found baby poop where no baby poop ought to be.<o:p></o:p></p>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-75457915821765570552012-02-08T08:38:00.003-06:002012-02-08T08:40:55.490-06:00daddy?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmzifSAkHqp0sN1DPVJSkGYVp_qV8mxkY62UT2QpwndE9Ul9IOwylO-bNsyExnSPVDtaphZvCB5bnbo2mXSkaqf7UnQIwnTt_jdCRSWWk4qhU2pNy7pQz7279dlDyC0JnBVLiRV3mO5o/s1600/424221_10150648608430446_583835445_11657587_1584098623_n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPmzifSAkHqp0sN1DPVJSkGYVp_qV8mxkY62UT2QpwndE9Ul9IOwylO-bNsyExnSPVDtaphZvCB5bnbo2mXSkaqf7UnQIwnTt_jdCRSWWk4qhU2pNy7pQz7279dlDyC0JnBVLiRV3mO5o/s400/424221_10150648608430446_583835445_11657587_1584098623_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5706774701278037810" /></a><br />I'm not sure what the criteria for first word is, but today adam looked up at a picture of doug, pointed, and said "daddy?" <div><br /></div><div>my heart swelled. doug's in saskatchewan this week so he was probably saying <i>hey where is that guy anyway</i>? </div><div><br /></div><div>then he picked up a toy car and showed it to me, and said "daddy." </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-70784225727903720082012-02-05T18:51:00.000-06:002012-02-05T18:52:38.976-06:00why we don't cosleep<a href="http://i.imgur.com/HcXp4.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 575px; height: 767px;" src="http://i.imgur.com/HcXp4.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a>doug found this <a href="http://www.howtobeadad.com/tag/baby-sleep-positions">gem</a>.kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-5223062497772472342012-02-04T12:51:00.015-06:002012-02-04T13:31:59.426-06:00playdate!<div>we went to the children's museum this morning with adam's friend henrik (and henrik's parents, hi krista!). </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSiSFZyW84sIUY5NBu628BttiWvGc-IT1fCQBkz4xfKrHi3XhXwxE4vEyOhZ49GizC1frON0joC-KFUuMS3lbGNbarmaMPHRtyQwbj0CeXcqHFEGI1swqC64hCCTmMLnXOLX8FjXdgc8/s1600/IMGA0225.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSiSFZyW84sIUY5NBu628BttiWvGc-IT1fCQBkz4xfKrHi3XhXwxE4vEyOhZ49GizC1frON0joC-KFUuMS3lbGNbarmaMPHRtyQwbj0CeXcqHFEGI1swqC64hCCTmMLnXOLX8FjXdgc8/s400/IMGA0225.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705361640373208898" /></a>"buh?" <div><br /></div><div>he has no idea what to look at first. the theme of this whole trip was basically him running AWAY from whatever we wanted to show him.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2DfzgXl5UWqCxevsg2xh_FK3JGWc1kDZ8jHGIqvBjXQqn3yCh6YJSYOw6DCh-OtGBLyNEgbkomniByMVPn85n-PHE6cQ2imlW_zP2A1slak4LaLMToo69D9Ijmkveekw6v9JsBFIhgU/s1600/IMGA0228.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU2DfzgXl5UWqCxevsg2xh_FK3JGWc1kDZ8jHGIqvBjXQqn3yCh6YJSYOw6DCh-OtGBLyNEgbkomniByMVPn85n-PHE6cQ2imlW_zP2A1slak4LaLMToo69D9Ijmkveekw6v9JsBFIhgU/s400/IMGA0228.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705361634895366626" /></a>it's funny to call kids "friends" at this age, given these two have only met twice and they still play <i>near </i>each other more than <i>with</i>, but it's entertaining nonetheless and I love looking at other people's kids to see what they're up to, what adam's going to be learning soon.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIroCLoB5Pfu84hZHzLQS0Op64xl1Zi75ewHrg7WMOG6uu7podgqJb4SWkBkzHXwlxFMd5ST652QKw-U6ie108-oFQ9IzlNPL429v_aqa14jmSXrq_7AmMBX4P76kLEoIMThfPbRgoMOo/s1600/IMGA0229.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIroCLoB5Pfu84hZHzLQS0Op64xl1Zi75ewHrg7WMOG6uu7podgqJb4SWkBkzHXwlxFMd5ST652QKw-U6ie108-oFQ9IzlNPL429v_aqa14jmSXrq_7AmMBX4P76kLEoIMThfPbRgoMOo/s400/IMGA0229.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705361093390971778" /></a>henrik is all too happy to show adam how things work around here.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUIujfSYOvd6GMwNBAptUe2rVvrDEv3noPYefTzcH7j_3i7uxGtPPYtIP-7ik28uoCjnkE9jvTpKyOTkkZwwZv1qZpACb4PG16a_dGSaa-VXLhkPXlRL6Zez8GoQ-cypGnI7mbbwBvhs/s1600/IMGA0231.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHUIujfSYOvd6GMwNBAptUe2rVvrDEv3noPYefTzcH7j_3i7uxGtPPYtIP-7ik28uoCjnkE9jvTpKyOTkkZwwZv1qZpACb4PG16a_dGSaa-VXLhkPXlRL6Zez8GoQ-cypGnI7mbbwBvhs/s400/IMGA0231.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705360583082979314" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDDfze15uDT0vt7X4xkahRoDxz4qTPbdQxM3DZby9ohSs88MuEzFVTXsoMnd_S1576m8ZN5PnBiGZMezm-clmK2jBTMKR49ifFjxaeGrbzSG0gs-HC5db1xdUbLDQiaQXkAhLu_MRGIw/s1600/IMGA0232.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXDDfze15uDT0vt7X4xkahRoDxz4qTPbdQxM3DZby9ohSs88MuEzFVTXsoMnd_S1576m8ZN5PnBiGZMezm-clmK2jBTMKR49ifFjxaeGrbzSG0gs-HC5db1xdUbLDQiaQXkAhLu_MRGIw/s400/IMGA0232.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705360340632771314" /></a>sweet t-shirt, kid! </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMS69Zdg9shYwHX_oX5j-CgPp89tIM-JnUQQxQhoxiH4x4Kdz-_jFtGeq4_oEzd_pu1XCB0wu1OxG_eUFpRw1siBLeoqdrlnwOjR4iIrYad4Yi5guvZoa-aVhQhGecyX_2FfsFi2LN_RQ/s1600/IMGA0236.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMS69Zdg9shYwHX_oX5j-CgPp89tIM-JnUQQxQhoxiH4x4Kdz-_jFtGeq4_oEzd_pu1XCB0wu1OxG_eUFpRw1siBLeoqdrlnwOjR4iIrYad4Yi5guvZoa-aVhQhGecyX_2FfsFi2LN_RQ/s400/IMGA0236.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705359394873046626" /></a>driving the tractor with dad.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMh2PVrwxujAI06NMzmz6oURpWGmza6v2Vc4UTsu59Z8ZycEfb8J8aMzLOR799HJCPGDC2uO3G2cn4vRnsUrzvwusvyhs9PeSOPXi3er33a6PYEze17qumak-u8gSqKM_A3kjFKd4iRvI/s1600/IMGA0243.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMh2PVrwxujAI06NMzmz6oURpWGmza6v2Vc4UTsu59Z8ZycEfb8J8aMzLOR799HJCPGDC2uO3G2cn4vRnsUrzvwusvyhs9PeSOPXi3er33a6PYEze17qumak-u8gSqKM_A3kjFKd4iRvI/s400/IMGA0243.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705358976434770226" /></a>water! he loved it, had a couple of drinks.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2V3fGTpxwwlVMv3NjTMzw6SHV9JEZG4aPM-1M1PajXdiRsfR3Q2AihhFbAQwKHAP52q3HS_sM1cMFaPUqyps4XYxpbbuMjkyfkUUqW4PDtU6ZvHZIpnxRyfhRbr3T6qheQJFZtK9CWI/s1600/IMGA0244.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic2V3fGTpxwwlVMv3NjTMzw6SHV9JEZG4aPM-1M1PajXdiRsfR3Q2AihhFbAQwKHAP52q3HS_sM1cMFaPUqyps4XYxpbbuMjkyfkUUqW4PDtU6ZvHZIpnxRyfhRbr3T6qheQJFZtK9CWI/s400/IMGA0244.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705357090928082450" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCxbYiBQoNRPlc6kCrmlsci8wO6yngOXX-RhK4E_WTEbs8HrFUbLmrF67EmIf3zYDqbRhXqlbqcfajfaagZlsaUuirnr5Im7-XOY7ORIGzpRrmpGd8bMkbADeTnLS-QI3x0tpjgZd-XY/s1600/IMGA0250.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVCxbYiBQoNRPlc6kCrmlsci8wO6yngOXX-RhK4E_WTEbs8HrFUbLmrF67EmIf3zYDqbRhXqlbqcfajfaagZlsaUuirnr5Im7-XOY7ORIGzpRrmpGd8bMkbADeTnLS-QI3x0tpjgZd-XY/s400/IMGA0250.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705356422960336226" /></a>watching the band, preparing for a lifetime of <a href="http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.com/2008/02/17/68-standing-still-at-concerts/">white person concert attendance</a>. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxToFiBWa61omxNVg0Fd7Y9DtwRIHjoRljf4eTrEXYrBgSfEq8KNc_zoXVxQE3GKAOEbrydkslSTVIUpxolehnuU_HEr_f0_PSiKteO8xFEIiyz90nBU8ReyfEVX66cy8U5o0JFEbH1M/s1600/IMGA0252.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxToFiBWa61omxNVg0Fd7Y9DtwRIHjoRljf4eTrEXYrBgSfEq8KNc_zoXVxQE3GKAOEbrydkslSTVIUpxolehnuU_HEr_f0_PSiKteO8xFEIiyz90nBU8ReyfEVX66cy8U5o0JFEbH1M/s400/IMGA0252.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705356061554101410" /></a>all my pictures seem to be of his back or butt, thanks to the running AWAY thing he likes to do.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLo1f_XTpnQtauaQ0FFKVYnIDE1cAC33PXYT0umWp0_WB67rD55_0ai9PHYQBn5MiAuLxyhyphenhyphenetz9BcOHtrdgMOzqBlziT0N7KjT7BCufqAO-11AqqaGoinHdJtq9KJfOLwv0m1wuq2mQ/s1600/IMGA0253.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLo1f_XTpnQtauaQ0FFKVYnIDE1cAC33PXYT0umWp0_WB67rD55_0ai9PHYQBn5MiAuLxyhyphenhyphenetz9BcOHtrdgMOzqBlziT0N7KjT7BCufqAO-11AqqaGoinHdJtq9KJfOLwv0m1wuq2mQ/s400/IMGA0253.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705355789996486866" /></a>you know that part of the grinch where he gets stuck in a chimney? this is me grinning nervously and hoping my butt will fit.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga3PyGo21FIxivP2CNUHuVhZ_nYw3hJsCU6McxFAGO0BSSJ_wD1uhMFtGaIgHZFgkUKt5kMG2Y9hMjQ_3iq6hPNFwzwlqR5FcXTR7hDe0MkvovPlMtKRfYJ3sy3SB5ofAKPrTJfxoO8lw/s1600/IMGA0254.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga3PyGo21FIxivP2CNUHuVhZ_nYw3hJsCU6McxFAGO0BSSJ_wD1uhMFtGaIgHZFgkUKt5kMG2Y9hMjQ_3iq6hPNFwzwlqR5FcXTR7hDe0MkvovPlMtKRfYJ3sy3SB5ofAKPrTJfxoO8lw/s400/IMGA0254.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705355498927720482" /></a>saw me chasing him, turned around and head-butted. this is HIS tunnel.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MoTCPdF3C8OtWC6gJdNjGYu21rTjVzsKkNocuVjY2zwIk8I_b5quLSHlh81US1xOHcxpNzk0e88prNxJJnEFIFwrtNt1haqXiOMVxAzhmQ7BA69MmDwEn9bQfCW5BmmYsMM0Tlb4QVM/s1600/IMGA0256.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9MoTCPdF3C8OtWC6gJdNjGYu21rTjVzsKkNocuVjY2zwIk8I_b5quLSHlh81US1xOHcxpNzk0e88prNxJJnEFIFwrtNt1haqXiOMVxAzhmQ7BA69MmDwEn9bQfCW5BmmYsMM0Tlb4QVM/s400/IMGA0256.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705355303470842850" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTazEq-IZN_0evHzRTUx9WZTXbfyIJ1RVisQClKiYhcoKsOKIlSMVyO00dC-4IVh0ZaO6dXrd4uPMf01Qcz_HXmoq5Z6UxcmJLIMzlkojFY9uUUpDI1xK7Vd21mnSGzsdL2TtmPLP-dwY/s1600/IMGA0258.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTazEq-IZN_0evHzRTUx9WZTXbfyIJ1RVisQClKiYhcoKsOKIlSMVyO00dC-4IVh0ZaO6dXrd4uPMf01Qcz_HXmoq5Z6UxcmJLIMzlkojFY9uUUpDI1xK7Vd21mnSGzsdL2TtmPLP-dwY/s400/IMGA0258.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705355117311450626" /></a>finis! he stayed awake the whole ride home and has been napping in the crib for an hour and a half now. </div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-1829217218347957722012-01-31T10:59:00.000-06:002012-01-31T11:00:08.049-06:00when I was his age, my only toy was an old tin can<a href="http://frugaldad.com/toy/"><img src="http://fdcdn.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Toys1.jpg" alt="toys" width="500" border="0" /></a><br /><p>Source: <a href="http://frugaldad.com/">frugaldad.com</a></p><br /><p></p>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-49749826348707393552012-01-29T13:57:00.000-06:002012-01-29T13:59:19.048-06:00this is the post that nap built<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLbsHey65Tcz-Y2XIfqSlVS7mX0u7NmAuv7Pg35-6wW2K3IuCtJN4PRV45eAqLfTkpyi0DYfE2n30fGkNjxONPg_JsgvjtMNPIbO1vAvHIFKnxKaCepJi0LeZ8qJANb93JxUxvbUyry8/s1600/IMG_0235.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyLbsHey65Tcz-Y2XIfqSlVS7mX0u7NmAuv7Pg35-6wW2K3IuCtJN4PRV45eAqLfTkpyi0DYfE2n30fGkNjxONPg_JsgvjtMNPIbO1vAvHIFKnxKaCepJi0LeZ8qJANb93JxUxvbUyry8/s400/IMG_0235.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703145999195030162" /></a>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-45533731166200045672012-01-27T13:27:00.002-06:002012-01-27T13:34:53.859-06:00brown to orange<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGoHqDIOh7YcVIaaZhKeyoIMcZCeKRTiQRI84bFi1MI-14rE2PiRkcIZ0ZlsiPo8HSnUSN-ewq9HScO7yNpWbW_N4F-s7jYGFb2Sy_H_qdvtB0CuB3Uh9XPl3JUATefqCIDLWhWwqZuck/s1600/IMGA0206.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGoHqDIOh7YcVIaaZhKeyoIMcZCeKRTiQRI84bFi1MI-14rE2PiRkcIZ0ZlsiPo8HSnUSN-ewq9HScO7yNpWbW_N4F-s7jYGFb2Sy_H_qdvtB0CuB3Uh9XPl3JUATefqCIDLWhWwqZuck/s400/IMGA0206.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702396458423679602" /></a>mommy still needs a day job, but for now mommy has lots of time to paint the kitchen before she goes to work.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZ4BXMP8K_US6VMHn0T3hGRNoBDX8N7woEX9SRDqA5xPQ71jtJUmbSoHv4jDZc7669WxbZFSae6ks3K0p9XPfna3chFfUUriRM4w0T-1e3PRMcYZzXLuy7ZX5cNWrmV-jMLNMf-I-Qhs/s1600/IMGA0212.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaZ4BXMP8K_US6VMHn0T3hGRNoBDX8N7woEX9SRDqA5xPQ71jtJUmbSoHv4jDZc7669WxbZFSae6ks3K0p9XPfna3chFfUUriRM4w0T-1e3PRMcYZzXLuy7ZX5cNWrmV-jMLNMf-I-Qhs/s400/IMGA0212.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5702396450240585090" /></a>AND! I will smugly note that the countertop has homemade muffins, cookies, and granola bars on it (the granola bars were admittedly a bit of a bust but doug is still eating them). behind the photographer, supper is waiting on the table for adam and doug to get home (penne alfredo with caesar salad in the fridge).kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-7034954760954172322012-01-22T18:53:00.004-06:002012-01-22T20:28:07.927-06:00adam is 15 months old today<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0G5-FUgyokAsG31113de_-D12rmKrALF4Kn0B653xJlRcyv9AVpjGr8Gkg1clzk-iHB85qNXUieL0aiqWF409RPDm4LCzi2Bt5zi0zd7xoIW0wcQO0dlC43X2rLKUZnqJV8Lrjtg2OAM/s1600/IMGA0131.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0G5-FUgyokAsG31113de_-D12rmKrALF4Kn0B653xJlRcyv9AVpjGr8Gkg1clzk-iHB85qNXUieL0aiqWF409RPDm4LCzi2Bt5zi0zd7xoIW0wcQO0dlC43X2rLKUZnqJV8Lrjtg2OAM/s400/IMGA0131.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5700624611667499346" /></a>dear baby whose mother missed the 14 month post: <div><br /></div><div>don't let that colour your impression of my love for you. </div><div><br /></div><div>you are a year and a quarter old today, sir. you weigh 24 pounds 14 ounces (after a mostly hashbrown-based dinner). you have many things to say, but most of them aren't in english (though you did say "uh oh" properly yesterday). your most recent new skills include showing people your belly, pointing to things on command (where's the cow? where's the puppy?), and perfecting a new dance move we like to call "the monster mash." </div><div><br /></div><div>after going back to work and feeling like an independent human for the first time in over year, I am now at the point where I miss you fiercely, and want to see you much more than I currently do. mommy needs a day job. </div><div><br /></div><div>every tuesday we go swimming together. you're registered in a class but being a toddler, I do most of the work, so once a week we brave the traffic and the crowded change room, I try my best to keep you from running away from me, and then we spend half an hour playing games in the water with all the other babies. and you love it. I think you'd spend all of every day in the bathtub or pool if we let you (how dare we not let you). </div><div><br /></div><div>you have made your opinions clear in many other aspects of life. chicken for supper? how dare we. socks? HOW DARE WE. a car ride when you don't want one? HOW. DARE. WE???</div><div><br /></div><div>daycare continues to become you, and on weekends we occasionally spend time with other children as well. it's not playing "with" so much as playing "near" other kids, but you do it well anyway.</div><div><br /></div><div>I look forward to every one of your smiles, hugs, kisses, dance moves, and strange utterances. I find you more fascinating than ever as I watch your brain work every day. I feel like I'm beginning to see what sort of person you will be as you grow, and I hope it continues. happy month-day my engrossing, captivating kid. </div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-43315444039177515182012-01-16T18:20:00.002-06:002012-01-16T19:19:10.182-06:00I read sometimes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUtbv8i-2hgxYpA8A3rvI6SCR2rH0_Tl_x1gC4VCHKeDDo_UgFqsiy_5sl7jC9if1fC-UfVydlZww51TgfODsaX9rRd7BzpNwF167feG9b6AtMgE_6ZQZRouq2JVR7Ay75mikJ6sAYaA/s1600/51XIjDAdMaL__BO2%252C204%252C203%252C200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click%252CTopRight%252C35%252C-76_AA300_SH20_OU15_.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698389513781448370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdUtbv8i-2hgxYpA8A3rvI6SCR2rH0_Tl_x1gC4VCHKeDDo_UgFqsiy_5sl7jC9if1fC-UfVydlZww51TgfODsaX9rRd7BzpNwF167feG9b6AtMgE_6ZQZRouq2JVR7Ay75mikJ6sAYaA/s400/51XIjDAdMaL__BO2%252C204%252C203%252C200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click%252CTopRight%252C35%252C-76_AA300_SH20_OU15_.jpg" /></a>I checked, and I'm up to 16 books on parenting. that is more than one book for every month of adam's life so you are forgiven if you think I might have a bit of a problem. some are about pregnancy, some say "dad" on them, implying I'm not their target audience, some are like memoirs and some are like instruction manuals, and I devour them all. there are all kinds of parents out there and I am, apparently, a parent who reads books on parenting.<br /><br />I don't know if it ever relieves all my self doubt (after all, think of all the books I still haven't read, there might be a better one around the corner) but this one, <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Simplicity-Parenting-Extraordinary-Calmer-Happier/dp/0345507983/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1326759461&sr=8-1#_">simplicity parenting </a>by kim john payne, sure did confirm a lot of things I already believed, and give me even more to think about.<br /><br />I was going to talk about all the magnificent changes in thinking and in how our household is run as a result of reading this book, but it's hard to say it all without sounding quite judgmental (unless you keep disclaiming "I'm not judging but..." and that's just boring writing) and anyway, this isn't the first time we've said our baby won't watch TV. but I am going to endorse this book and loan it out to you if you wish because it gives you such a great "good old days" feeling about the way childhood used to be, or ought to be, or could be if we didn't cram it full of bright lights and busy times.<br /><br />p.s. adam reads sometimes, too.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gVIGmPnIgMpdMvauI-hxa-X6V7Piy6SNz8l7L4Mhv7-5uyeH-L_d0y4_Ty2QpqkRHR_elb-JqhLm0_8F-ptu25_GCzkltYeAxausvzKjUAiuJxl4xZYd4_LJ6hvLs0eWrPhv8NICeRA/s1600/51ynjOEIfWL__SS500_.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5698389515679615954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0gVIGmPnIgMpdMvauI-hxa-X6V7Piy6SNz8l7L4Mhv7-5uyeH-L_d0y4_Ty2QpqkRHR_elb-JqhLm0_8F-ptu25_GCzkltYeAxausvzKjUAiuJxl4xZYd4_LJ6hvLs0eWrPhv8NICeRA/s400/51ynjOEIfWL__SS500_.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>just before christmas adam got <a href="http://www.amazon.ca/Curious-George-Marcy-Goldberg-Sacks/dp/0606147349/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1326759418&sr=8-2">this book</a> as a present from another kid at daycare, and it's now his favourite. he seeks it out and brings it to one of us several times a day, and sits patiently in our laps until the whole story is done.<br /><br /><div></div></div></div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-70343002921005594972012-01-15T13:51:00.004-06:002012-01-15T13:53:39.649-06:00Hal<br />so... how's winnipeg?<br /><br />Kristyn Marie<br />it's alright, beautiful day<br />we went and played outside for a while this morning<br />adam found a truck parked on the street, like a big truck bought by a guy who probably doesn't need a big truck<br />and he stood there and tried to make the tires spin. the tires spin on all the other vehicles he's ever touched, so why shouldn't the truck tires spin<br /><br />Hal<br />heh... yeah, most people don't<br />that is a good question. Did you perform science? or magic?<br /><br />Kristyn Marie<br />I guess it's science<br />adam learned that large truck tires don't spin when you touch them<br /><br />Hal<br />more experiments!!!<br /><br />Kristyn Marie<br />oh there's always science going on around here.<br />he's got some experiments on drinking from a cup without a spout on it, going on in the bathtub every night<br />there's the "how does spoon work and where does it go" experiment<br />and I believe he's going to propose research into staircases for like the millionth time, but we keep turning him down on that one<br /><br />Hal<br />ah yes. I understand the grants for that kind of research take years<br /><br />Kristyn Marie<br />the committee just doesn't see that necessary groundwork has been laid for this kind of study<br />not when there's still so much to be figured out concerning "standing perfectly still without suddenly falling over, for pete's sake"kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-45059756245022799212012-01-15T13:09:00.004-06:002012-01-15T13:47:57.965-06:00adam's morning<div>today started at 5:30 when adam somehow got his legs stuck in the bars of the crib. if he had been on his tummy when this happened we probably wouldn't have had a problem, but he was on his back and he's not much of a back sleeper, so I woke up to the most mournful, sleepy but uncomfortable, please help me sound. of all his cries it's the one that breaks my heart the most, it's more distress and less manipulation. it's the clear sound of a baby stuck on his back like a turtle. </div><div><br /></div><div>anyway I tried my best. picked him up, kept the chatter to a minimum, grabbed a blankie and a stuffie and a rocking chair. but somewhere around 5:00 am is magical in his baby brain, it's the point of no going back to sleep. if it had been 4:30 or 4:45 I might have had some hope, but 5:30? I'm dreaming. I put him back in the crib to bitch and whine for a while because the cruel policy in this house is "mama isn't getting up until 6:00, sir." (note that if you ACTUALLY think this is cruel, please write me a letter. include your address so I can drop off a baby who likes to wake up before most bakers). </div><div><br /></div><div>now doug isn't the greatest at hearing every little nightly noise the baby makes, but to his credit when he does finally hear something he's all action. about fifteen minutes into the bitching and whining, me lying awake staring at the ceiling all the while, he suddenly sat up like the pillow was on fire and rushed to the bedroom, liberating the early waking baby from the crib faster than I could say "no, look at the time, it's for his own goo- .... sigh...." </div><div><br /></div><div>and we haven't stopped since. let me see, we played on the bed and read some books for a while, and beat the crap out of david bowie. then he ate a mom-sized portion of oatmeal and some blueberries, and played all over the main floor. someone has taught him how to knock on doors apparently because he stood outside the bathroom while daddy showered and rapped his knuckles and smiled, like knock knock ginger only without the "run away and don't get caught" part. when dad made it clear that he wasn't opening the door we sat on the couch and read books for a while. </div><div><br /></div><div>then I showered and while I did my hair he threw all my hairstyling products into the laundry bin and got his fingers caught in the toilet lid. he ate a banana and some yogurt, and then we played in the basement where he threw three tantrums related to not being allowed to play on the stairs, and doug and I picked some large toys to put in the crawl space for a while, to be rotated out in a month or two, because we have more toys than we have room to walk down there. </div><div><br /></div><div>then we went outside to play and walk around the neighborhood, and he stopped to touch a very big pick-up truck and try to make the tires spin. they didn't spin, so we stopped by the neighbors' house where some people are still in pajamas at 10:30 (I jealously remember those days). adam fell asleep in dad's arms at this point, sitting in their living room sucking his thumb while holding on to the tag on his hat. so we thought it best to take him home for some lunch and a nap. lunch was ridiculously large like all the rest of his meals lately, alphagetties and sweet potato puffs and fruit twists and soup crackers, oh my. then he ran around for a little while dancing to the music the toys make, before finally heading down for a nap. at noon. </div><div><br /></div><div>I don't wonder why he needs naps. if anything, the question is how are his parents coping WITHOUT naps. weekends are exhausting in this house. yesterday at about 4:30 pm I found my eyes beginning to droop while I sat at work. I long for a day job just so I can get myself to bed at 8:00 p.m. </div><div><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXUB6vy1NoXfLTpBV_hsfKm80W3BmcfjdhT1bvceXRA26OBGT93aUwlp_lp5_QHmKCKbK5ByyzFqRxkJpkCg5-fa0HOo0sTkGMBRZ4At1QpVHRESzelAXXt8ruITXUZ-3QlaPMmecq0Hc/s1600/IMGA0195.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXUB6vy1NoXfLTpBV_hsfKm80W3BmcfjdhT1bvceXRA26OBGT93aUwlp_lp5_QHmKCKbK5ByyzFqRxkJpkCg5-fa0HOo0sTkGMBRZ4At1QpVHRESzelAXXt8ruITXUZ-3QlaPMmecq0Hc/s400/IMGA0195.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697938119301708290" /></a>the book-reading baby. I love his tendency to disappear behind the loveseat with a well worn copy of "baby sees shapes."kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-61149431715517509482012-01-14T12:40:00.003-06:002012-01-14T12:48:07.717-06:00mouthwash jukebox gasoline<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-QEHpjXS72RquQCokXZH0NOXB7-TVVv55V9KBWZQ2MeFsvxHndUffaSvdV801PRs4ACHubHoLUN2wA8BlIhlNOZg2sS_16_VL0Xawl5LPzPjEiPpbdO39FKGcrBNX-TiN_LHJexGAS0/s1600/IMGA0181.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF-QEHpjXS72RquQCokXZH0NOXB7-TVVv55V9KBWZQ2MeFsvxHndUffaSvdV801PRs4ACHubHoLUN2wA8BlIhlNOZg2sS_16_VL0Xawl5LPzPjEiPpbdO39FKGcrBNX-TiN_LHJexGAS0/s400/IMGA0181.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5697559935826936546" /></a><br />Doug makes long movies. so while I try to upload a three-minute video (I'm skeptical that it will ever happen), here's some needlepoint.kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-2367417926041553952012-01-12T20:48:00.004-06:002012-01-12T21:00:50.737-06:00<em>the author looks up, surprised. </em><br /><br />oh, you're still here. I didn't know anyone was looking.<br /><br />sorry, folks.<br /><br />I had grand intentions of writing, always tomorrow or the next day. I was going to tell the story of mcarthurmas in the style of "the night before christmas" because when a baby throws up on your face, it's funnier that way. I was going to post about a million pictures and movies. I was going to give the world the low-down on how much adam loves swimming lessons.<br /><br />I have no excuse, other than that I really wanted to work on my super mario 3 world map cross-stitch. I'm sure you totally understand.<br /><br />so for now, a promise: tomorrow I'm going to put up pictures. muchos pictures. maybe a movie or two. maybe some sarcastic banter, I don't know.<br /><br />if you're one of the five people who continues to regularly check this thing, I appreciate your tenacity, and will reward it with more adam than you can stand. and maybe some pictures of cross stitch.kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-58944108792475048162011-12-21T00:55:00.004-06:002011-12-21T02:20:39.856-06:00on the meaning of christmas and tradition<iframe height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/fCNvZqpa-7Q" frameborder="0" width="560"></iframe><br /><br />this song is marvellous, and captures the beauty and meaning that christmas has always held for me. ignore his eye make-up, mom, and listen to the whole thing because the bridge will make you cry.<br /><br />the first time I heard this song was last year, when adam was two months old. he wasn't a girl and he wasn't jet-lagged, but he was passed around to all and sundry, and carted all over the place, and he was exhausted by it, so this bit is what brought out the waterworks in his poor, equally exhausted mother:<br /><br /><em>and you won't understand</em><br /><em>but you will learn some day</em><br /><em>that wherever you are and whatever you face</em><br /><em>these are the people who'll make you feel safe in this world</em><br /><br />as far as I'm concerned there could be no more important message to take away from the season than this. these people, who are so happy to see you and have brought you a present, are always going to love you and will always be happy to see you, though they might not always give you presents (sorry buddy). we go our separate ways in life, we make new contacts, we form different opinions. it doesn't matter. this is the time of year where you surround yourself with those you love, renew bonds, and rejoice in another turn of the sun together.<br /><br />I want to post this <a href="http://xkcd.com/">xkcd </a>comic because the hover text made me laugh: "an 'american tradition' is anything that happened to a baby boomer twice."<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 594px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 519px; CURSOR: hand" border="0" alt="" src="http://imgs.xkcd.com/comics/tradition.png" /><br /><br /><br /><p>this graph (chart? graph?) is pointing out that the music we listen to every december, like many other christmas traditions, belongs to our parents' childhood. our grandparents didn't grow up with it, our great grandparents were just humoring us, and our great-greats may have never heard any of it, depending on when they died. you probably don't need to go back very many generations before you find a christmas totally unrecognizable from the one you celebrate each year. </p><br /><p></p><br /><br /><br /><p>so, like ungrateful children everywhere I intend to pick and choose the traditions I love best from my childhood and then make up some more new ones as we go, and shape the christmas adam will remember as an adult. the best example of a tradition that I plan to continue with is the christmas eve present. every december 24 we get to open just one present, and inevitably it is pajamas, sometimes christmas-themed. this is just practical (and maybe a little vain): no one wants to photograph their kid opening presents in stained, ripped, baggy-kneed hand-me-downs. at the advanced and adult-sized age of 27, my mother still gets me pajamas every year, and now she enjoys trying to find some for her sons-in-law as well. </p><br /><p></p><br /><br /><br /><p>the best example of a new tradition that I'd like to get started? let me take you back to 2009 and tell you about the first christmas I ever spent with doug. there was no adam, though it may be hard to believe. to please his fairly new girlfriend whose fertility had not yet been alarmingly discovered, doug went out and purchased a five-foot tall tree, apartment-sized and comfortable. and then the two of us pooled together some hand-me-down decorations, purchased a few extra, and decorated his downtown apartment. </p><br /><br /><p></p><br /><br /><p>doug didn't have any christmas music, he still doesn't as far as I know, so we listened to josh ritter - <em>the animal years</em>. I know I go on about josh. if you know me, you know that my son's name was very likely plucked from a josh ritter song, and that I went to see him live only six days after giving birth. the song we set to the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G5o2MiqUlh4">slideshow </a>of adam's first year photos is also <em>a la</em> ritter, and this isn't just because of my hopeless crush on him (at least, not entirely). it's because the first time I ever listened to <em>the animal years</em> I was in a warm apartment, with big cold windows overlooking the city. I was with a man I felt fairly certain was something special (after all, he'd gotten me a christmas tree), even though I wasn't yet susceptible to words like "forever" or "it's a boy, ma'am." it is one of the earliest moments with doug where the word "home" felt entirely right, natural, permanent. he was dumbfounded that I had never heard <em>monster ballads</em>, as I recall. </p><br /><iframe height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/pgrNfR2pVDg" frameborder="0" width="560"></iframe><br /><br /><br /><p></p><br /><p>anyway, my idea of a good tradition is mandatory <em>animal years</em> when we decorate the house. it lends itself pretty nicely to the christmas genre anyway, the lyrics are a little on the epic and biblical side, the melodies and instrumentation remind me of christmas songs I've maybe forgotten, and it takes me back to a happy memory faster than burl ives ever could. I'm formally suggesting this album to fill the void at dunnmas left by me finally breaking the alabama christmas cd we've been listening to for a decade or more. </p>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-11608273844526423352011-12-10T13:05:00.002-06:002011-12-10T13:39:03.692-06:00zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUQcQj_2rHFWajFdhlJ-g0MMoYAYOeGEOnxhiozAxgwakVtBz65j_62KQ8-URGjxGQThSIZGLzVzlbVTNwgbiWaKa7kWQT9EMTjCowK_gxqaUMCyIfhhX3-56X8EPmf-UFIHWQogdV6c/s1600/375503_10150512574885446_583835445_11158442_1119234339_n.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUQcQj_2rHFWajFdhlJ-g0MMoYAYOeGEOnxhiozAxgwakVtBz65j_62KQ8-URGjxGQThSIZGLzVzlbVTNwgbiWaKa7kWQT9EMTjCowK_gxqaUMCyIfhhX3-56X8EPmf-UFIHWQogdV6c/s400/375503_10150512574885446_583835445_11158442_1119234339_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684577877039904402" /></a>adam's ability to fall asleep in public is pretty limited. I know these kids exist, the ones who just drop off when they get sleepy enough, but as far as he's concerned you'd better have a crib in a darkened room or YOU WILL BE SORRY. <div><br /></div><div>so you just know I have to take a picture of this when we achieve it. this is what we get for skipping morning nap and going to the mall. it took a lot of walking and strategic positioning of the blanket to achieve, and it was beautiful, and we got funny looks from people who must have wondered why he was so tired at 10 in the morning. </div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-90874934666603658742011-12-02T14:38:00.003-06:002011-12-02T14:39:39.427-06:00baby's first professional photo shoot<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4WAMao0Yw-l2nyKK56kvAz_U1_LNzKAL-GYplETQ6s4qp8Nd8JWhPz18PXQ1dcgec_BOT0rXYCzrLnr0s8APz9mxcISZ0Viyz9btKysXw2MdVRXRH1B03r0hyphenhyphenXui-AAXhkLndPqAGIA/s1600/12.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4WAMao0Yw-l2nyKK56kvAz_U1_LNzKAL-GYplETQ6s4qp8Nd8JWhPz18PXQ1dcgec_BOT0rXYCzrLnr0s8APz9mxcISZ0Viyz9btKysXw2MdVRXRH1B03r0hyphenhyphenXui-AAXhkLndPqAGIA/s400/12.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681633388436683522" /></a><br />if you love my baby as much as I love my baby, <a href="http://erinkeownphotography.com/blog/?p=4871">this </a>will probably make your day. <div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-36459415731639976892011-11-26T15:27:00.001-06:002011-11-26T15:33:32.447-06:00kristyn's next big cross stitch<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOolVNS85Y6AxmDUnbJa7V9fGdz5cs0a13LDsqhC7WExpuJZr7PqBZHtQEDaJTyVnDEonZSt4c0iL98LHtm5teA4MPUQFkQsFqB9EBznrD0d5Ijvbj5AJWR7JJgxWv5YT7f1gSRy95PT8/s1600/smb3map.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 328px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOolVNS85Y6AxmDUnbJa7V9fGdz5cs0a13LDsqhC7WExpuJZr7PqBZHtQEDaJTyVnDEonZSt4c0iL98LHtm5teA4MPUQFkQsFqB9EBznrD0d5Ijvbj5AJWR7JJgxWv5YT7f1gSRy95PT8/s400/smb3map.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679419436295299282" /></a>I found a pattern, I made a plan. wish me luck.kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-92176132388554070062011-11-26T15:19:00.003-06:002011-11-26T15:22:45.594-06:00nice socks, kid<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwji7qVUvpVF5mKImXryURTNhc6y8K-hyl_5CEJQN08Govyst-0w_59OoBnG8l7rKCHh-kVme-0_zehC3eQgmAqK6_khZEXWyRF2bM5KaQmLsZyMoWSxydFUo8HhYf0HRLFID43_JGx_A/s1600/26-11-2011+09%253B49%253B22AM.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwji7qVUvpVF5mKImXryURTNhc6y8K-hyl_5CEJQN08Govyst-0w_59OoBnG8l7rKCHh-kVme-0_zehC3eQgmAqK6_khZEXWyRF2bM5KaQmLsZyMoWSxydFUo8HhYf0HRLFID43_JGx_A/s400/26-11-2011+09%253B49%253B22AM.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679417250249918082" /></a>in accordance with the laws of the universe, that kid wore mismatched socks for several hours and through diaper changes and everything else I did not notice the glaring heterogeneity until AFTER I was standing there holding this photo in my hand. <div><br /></div><div>anyway, a photo for the ages. you might also note that my kid is not afraid of strangers. not even big ones all in red and covered in beard. he sat there wondering what the deal was. </div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-20032153450074991992011-11-22T21:33:00.002-06:002011-11-22T22:26:53.299-06:00adam is 13 months old today<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrC67phGDX1Dh03YZwQb6d-l-WDualS0JVb166UFq08nzOPbLCMZ8fzq4NnItFvfUjcw127k_eYuE2Y7uP-ONhlZBbaO0vGn3Wjo8VTFeoXSpuO4dbzMWBM9IS-M2Fy2svsVpm9EvJoos/s1600/IMG_0028.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrC67phGDX1Dh03YZwQb6d-l-WDualS0JVb166UFq08nzOPbLCMZ8fzq4NnItFvfUjcw127k_eYuE2Y7uP-ONhlZBbaO0vGn3Wjo8VTFeoXSpuO4dbzMWBM9IS-M2Fy2svsVpm9EvJoos/s400/IMG_0028.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5678029243651130498" /></a>nice hat, kid. <div><br /></div><div>did you know you were 13 months old today? you're getting more sentient all the time. you must have known it was a big day at any rate, because you didn't go to daycare but you DID go to the mall to meet santa, and then you DID go to the doctor to get some immunizations. </div><div><br /></div><div>can I just take a moment and tell you how awesome you are? </div><div><br /></div><div>not every baby can walk away from people he knows and confidently set off across the mall while grandma chases him. not every baby will sit on santa's lap and look confused but never frightened or worried. not every baby will go hang out at the doctor's office and share his most winning smiles with that guy who always looks in his ears and maneuvers his hips uncomfortably and then gives him needles. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm coming to realize how lucky your dad and I are to have a kid that can confidently explore his world without needing too much coaxing or reassurance. you're curious and you're brave, which makes me so proud. </div><div><br /></div><div>on the other hand you're becoming quite affectionate, baby. you hug, and you snuggle in to our necks, and you kiss (it's a lot like biting, actually), and you're willing and eager to sit in our laps and chill with a book or some backyardigans. these wonderful things are what I thought parenting would be 100% of the time (I was so dumb, baby) so now that you're willing to be so cuddly at least 25% of the time, I'm glad the past 13 months have convinced you that we're likable people. </div><div><br /></div><div>since learning to walk exactly a month ago, your dancing has really taken off. facebook videos are forthcoming of your head bopping, bum bouncing, spinning in circles moves, and some day they'll be adorable, or adorable blackmail. in this machiavellian household, you just never know to what use we'll put over a thousand baby pictures and movies. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'll stop writing these some-day embarrassing letters, baby, when you stop changing so fast that I need to step back and look at you on a monthly basis just to make sure I don't miss anything. you're a toddler now, that's for sure. a fascinating, learning-at-the-speed-of-light, intrepid little person whose brain is expanding all the freaking time and yet you still poop your pants. I can't get enough of you. </div><div><br /></div><div>see you in a month, kid. </div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-18105036710071077022011-11-13T12:44:00.001-06:002011-11-13T12:44:54.476-06:00he does this with pasta spoons too<object width="400" height="224"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/10150450520290446"><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/10150450520290446" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="224"></embed></object>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-48108004825379233712011-11-10T14:36:00.003-06:002011-11-10T14:42:22.956-06:00who needs hair anyway<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtpF68IXbMl_h2JsY6GRs3gQ1Tda2vcL_7msV16woPAJj6HVKjplsZgR_LKySdTB7lNYFFj7iE2iHVgtjrOutUOqUnSgZJc4B6ItiqVXjZZ_fhYsug2ennwkvO-Kr9bAfxgHWldbTS3A/s1600/143352.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTtpF68IXbMl_h2JsY6GRs3gQ1Tda2vcL_7msV16woPAJj6HVKjplsZgR_LKySdTB7lNYFFj7iE2iHVgtjrOutUOqUnSgZJc4B6ItiqVXjZZ_fhYsug2ennwkvO-Kr9bAfxgHWldbTS3A/s400/143352.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673468788341369890" /></a>post partum hair loss is just a way of kicking you while you're down. you've got a stomach that'll never look the same again, hips that don't fit pants the way they used to, and a get-ready routine that's been reduced to what you can do while the baby is napping. on top of that, the hair that you've only got ten minutes to do doesn't want to stay on your head anyway.<br /><div><br /></div><div>sick to death of all the brunette tumbleweeds rolling around the house, and starting to feel like any day now my hair would be so thin I'd be mistaken for the cryptkeeper, I made an appointment with my friendly neighborhood stylist. <div><br /></div><div>hello mom hair! goodbye foot-long hair stuck to everything I touch.<br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxWjN2QxF8N-PpXjTrQHwa4X_G4OAHCWN7_R1KpZqaSc-dHVYdwlcK7aLhSpdyDSS18YqMWVVjjFkclddTH1JsACD68wj2cZOT4A0evVs4iSlahkPj68XDY8QQZ_1mNbRoqrNY9GBrl4/s1600/130840.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPxWjN2QxF8N-PpXjTrQHwa4X_G4OAHCWN7_R1KpZqaSc-dHVYdwlcK7aLhSpdyDSS18YqMWVVjjFkclddTH1JsACD68wj2cZOT4A0evVs4iSlahkPj68XDY8QQZ_1mNbRoqrNY9GBrl4/s400/130840.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673468782708657426" /></a><br /></div></div></div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-6710624201056668592011-11-09T09:52:00.004-06:002011-11-09T10:00:04.714-06:00billions!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlN11mqDwnQ_FeEemtiyPcRDXMrataCJHEv1hlDU70YP0JJKroy4bqaxdUDXduGQjEeu09sqE4qikUHKM6MSui-TFH3YbKHNJp2EOWSLkhaE3cnrv6xGVRrozE_GUEGqMsbn0aOWS9jU/s1600/sagan_planets.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlN11mqDwnQ_FeEemtiyPcRDXMrataCJHEv1hlDU70YP0JJKroy4bqaxdUDXduGQjEeu09sqE4qikUHKM6MSui-TFH3YbKHNJp2EOWSLkhaE3cnrv6xGVRrozE_GUEGqMsbn0aOWS9jU/s400/sagan_planets.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673026434218998706" /></a><br /><i>"The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies; were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff." </i><div><br /></div><div>the world is a wonderful, elegant, astounding place, and carl sagan helped me see it. happy carl sagan day to you and yours. I think I'm going to bake an apple pie to celebrate. </div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-70753952980171079422011-10-30T10:08:00.008-05:002011-10-30T10:38:21.145-05:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLDUtH7dL-KjO9AYNg2lUnUlGs2X2r7Z9PlKWdQUs81vuvLOjw6X2RnGQv1VhUX809q0Yuk2gjVzTV7Ln0JH4gzQ3sTzBLrMhzEzIDQOLVDm0tpMoQdUTWLRMLRBGZVU6IsNi1CXVnQU/s1600/IMG_9924.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLDUtH7dL-KjO9AYNg2lUnUlGs2X2r7Z9PlKWdQUs81vuvLOjw6X2RnGQv1VhUX809q0Yuk2gjVzTV7Ln0JH4gzQ3sTzBLrMhzEzIDQOLVDm0tpMoQdUTWLRMLRBGZVU6IsNi1CXVnQU/s400/IMG_9924.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669305331489683234" /></a>life with a baby is like that saying "make hay while the sun shines." DO EVERYTHING YOU POSSIBLY CAN WHILE THE BABY IS NAPPING. which is why my house was decorated at 10 a.m. even though the party wasn't until 3. banner said "happy birthday wild thing!" and I did my best to impersonate the wild things font from the movie.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhXcqROIyROQfQYWOKexTho277P7zAzExrZaekqQcsuKM3yn4X4hlZi__8Nw_B9t4qrS0QiAsbgKqaVmXVSuxXahWpUa3apFOnXgtNLH3tWN-cF5MDYqL76KoWy0EPNmEs6nsL8A99B0/s1600/IMG_9925.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNhXcqROIyROQfQYWOKexTho277P7zAzExrZaekqQcsuKM3yn4X4hlZi__8Nw_B9t4qrS0QiAsbgKqaVmXVSuxXahWpUa3apFOnXgtNLH3tWN-cF5MDYqL76KoWy0EPNmEs6nsL8A99B0/s400/IMG_9925.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669305323698431602" /></a>brown and green: for when blue has already been done.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHP1Npj-dFxuykTpM67Y_J0lnwyUlmp2wjaHauxGvL4LuPAAAOU-oU3L0gzYBesKihPb-6lMamqSof7ytQwVFquXdhhdCOdA2hAtQQMeAX3zTsRPo_y7ZBwOHfzgp7GO45nFVzUaDTC4/s1600/IMG_9926.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHP1Npj-dFxuykTpM67Y_J0lnwyUlmp2wjaHauxGvL4LuPAAAOU-oU3L0gzYBesKihPb-6lMamqSof7ytQwVFquXdhhdCOdA2hAtQQMeAX3zTsRPo_y7ZBwOHfzgp7GO45nFVzUaDTC4/s400/IMG_9926.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669305324169773474" /></a>wild things quilt made by a quilting friend of grandma meredith's.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdloxA2Kfvu5FPui04jsT9Jswx52c4kaowiwGf6NzHgX1e7KWa02S_3X29Gz8NlYf21de1S_gyganqkksRKb0nxie6tfeOlNUH9vhVH9DbWhgJGVQRtxmySTmhJDUIoJWOzGjR3jgXqU/s1600/IMG_9928.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFdloxA2Kfvu5FPui04jsT9Jswx52c4kaowiwGf6NzHgX1e7KWa02S_3X29Gz8NlYf21de1S_gyganqkksRKb0nxie6tfeOlNUH9vhVH9DbWhgJGVQRtxmySTmhJDUIoJWOzGjR3jgXqU/s400/IMG_9928.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669305079644620562" /></a>paper boats made by me getting a little carried away.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDKeFE2k1_OWxwrTH0U8DO-a1s8sTgOvw5Q82X12zzK4orKdtvrbn4LJMnHgsJ6cesrw_vSy296R-0sXLMkr_5KdD3QyQ3I1QQPAyFW2cel4ds0anjVUGRhRHJ8QMrJLD-vK0r8diJIkE/s1600/IMG_9929.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDKeFE2k1_OWxwrTH0U8DO-a1s8sTgOvw5Q82X12zzK4orKdtvrbn4LJMnHgsJ6cesrw_vSy296R-0sXLMkr_5KdD3QyQ3I1QQPAyFW2cel4ds0anjVUGRhRHJ8QMrJLD-vK0r8diJIkE/s400/IMG_9929.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669305072250003858" /></a>if you look closely you'll spot my favorite decoration of all. can't see it? no?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ57Ar8DuXdHI7g76BnxnnfybF-HrKCAH1bFwyvDFN47ZAIMffcg9nLTGyleXVdDT6beouzC6FQefo4hxiBIOems96msdWVcUkxR3P6aJzvOv80sRqj9jE79ebC0_or3RsUJlEMzHnVh8/s1600/IMG_9930.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ57Ar8DuXdHI7g76BnxnnfybF-HrKCAH1bFwyvDFN47ZAIMffcg9nLTGyleXVdDT6beouzC6FQefo4hxiBIOems96msdWVcUkxR3P6aJzvOv80sRqj9jE79ebC0_or3RsUJlEMzHnVh8/s400/IMG_9930.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669305069068038146" /></a>ha! it's still on there as far as I know, I'm waiting for doug to notice how I've soiled his poster print and take it off.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PKcsrlMWko6Y-XjGbtxdvMphJu9IkVjCC0mUhTLPlIreHjoCUoM9XCmqGfGJlKwfHdlr8TVl2cw2f3Zy8t-hFnBiqHrSBLiKbdvnNLdMi4R-128DFcTYCSt63ugc1agCRAoCwMw74kQ/s1600/IMG_9933.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_PKcsrlMWko6Y-XjGbtxdvMphJu9IkVjCC0mUhTLPlIreHjoCUoM9XCmqGfGJlKwfHdlr8TVl2cw2f3Zy8t-hFnBiqHrSBLiKbdvnNLdMi4R-128DFcTYCSt63ugc1agCRAoCwMw74kQ/s400/IMG_9933.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669305059116496386" /></a>HOW MANY OF THESE DID I MAKE?<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBTaWyprgFOrRSZFdKqLAqpl3-rLagtXvV1UZLByTKH8o4q_p7MOUOY0y2eObQzpEIg06bUuA57ggFKveUyqbfXdcEksNUVwOmxpC2NYHt5cbZOvWCX-tsScerFDfjo63cqCEIJ7vjVk/s1600/IMG_9934.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOBTaWyprgFOrRSZFdKqLAqpl3-rLagtXvV1UZLByTKH8o4q_p7MOUOY0y2eObQzpEIg06bUuA57ggFKveUyqbfXdcEksNUVwOmxpC2NYHt5cbZOvWCX-tsScerFDfjo63cqCEIJ7vjVk/s400/IMG_9934.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669305051511731538" /></a>there are people out there who really like baking and decorating the things they've baked, and then there's me.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9Ro9g-wRFtPsyG3OeSNgPURCCzuGUhIGsn50uFTQFF54VmTUT9mx8wzrehIAHJFEkI2EEXBRDz6BMMp11VE8vSzQxmtBoRaDuN0Dk0G90G1ssO5CXuyWKKumk0tctsSUk3M30c579FY/s1600/IMG_9935.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_9Ro9g-wRFtPsyG3OeSNgPURCCzuGUhIGsn50uFTQFF54VmTUT9mx8wzrehIAHJFEkI2EEXBRDz6BMMp11VE8vSzQxmtBoRaDuN0Dk0G90G1ssO5CXuyWKKumk0tctsSUk3M30c579FY/s400/IMG_9935.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304571523235826" /></a>the birthday boy in his birthday outfit, except that by the time guests arrived we'd lost the socks and bib. he had a beautiful costume, and I never ended up putting it on him because A) things got hectic fast and B) the house got warm, warm, warm. I try not to make the baby sweaty and angry when I can help it. the shirt says "wild thing" anyway.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKwbHMS5eRbl9eMWCe8IiCuybKOiV5XtkeloSxPUjanPxnhJlOJk37bQnnt8YjL0RJXM1gn9AvqffmlfUEY0TwTRSOGvRh2g89LFWab1cSOQmwvUXNMlMoWQSRf49eZt70rUhX_VLYwsM/s1600/IMG_9943.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKwbHMS5eRbl9eMWCe8IiCuybKOiV5XtkeloSxPUjanPxnhJlOJk37bQnnt8YjL0RJXM1gn9AvqffmlfUEY0TwTRSOGvRh2g89LFWab1cSOQmwvUXNMlMoWQSRf49eZt70rUhX_VLYwsM/s400/IMG_9943.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304563503370258" /></a>isabelle, a.k.a. the only person under 25 at this party. as always I love it when I get to see older kids than adam, it's fun to see what my life will be like in approximately a year. and she loves toys, so we both got what we wanted.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiyx-sWoda5vksz9U9FbKOy0WTx9mz9lDl9v4SzqaaK4z3w8XO23NcZcToWB9u11P147XSC8yuxpZyIHu32BSG-TkWYcvQM7MzY8L-Akftk4g-LgBlWdgLA_IMsjPq6Phc94uZhIqEi8/s1600/IMG_4951.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCiyx-sWoda5vksz9U9FbKOy0WTx9mz9lDl9v4SzqaaK4z3w8XO23NcZcToWB9u11P147XSC8yuxpZyIHu32BSG-TkWYcvQM7MzY8L-Akftk4g-LgBlWdgLA_IMsjPq6Phc94uZhIqEi8/s400/IMG_4951.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304559012143986" /></a>can't read my party face.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFoGpKi9-5kqbiSrQvlt9qUJOrxQ-D8nRGiqSTa0oCx93M8i4PowTx32ChyOryjAFNBWBADhBWbkH3P0oibPO9l18aYItTQ_g1sH4SKudf6XxQFUD_lumRyMQWruGD1WntaOHCsyyvsg/s1600/IMG_4952.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFoGpKi9-5kqbiSrQvlt9qUJOrxQ-D8nRGiqSTa0oCx93M8i4PowTx32ChyOryjAFNBWBADhBWbkH3P0oibPO9l18aYItTQ_g1sH4SKudf6XxQFUD_lumRyMQWruGD1WntaOHCsyyvsg/s400/IMG_4952.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304544823747666" /></a>schmoozin'<div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0PDn8vKrd-ZdYK3YOygx_qmkPOpZL2beYJxagV1RP02iJBJQKOA9KgutgdDKZhYOPdOp6cvtoKNxNkNFO0p1rGmiwobK4Pu4M1oBd1XpV02TRKXJ0JFyLeaZ3g1K_OeG9iDM9k2wTIM/s1600/IMG_4954.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU0PDn8vKrd-ZdYK3YOygx_qmkPOpZL2beYJxagV1RP02iJBJQKOA9KgutgdDKZhYOPdOp6cvtoKNxNkNFO0p1rGmiwobK4Pu4M1oBd1XpV02TRKXJ0JFyLeaZ3g1K_OeG9iDM9k2wTIM/s400/IMG_4954.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304543778809746" /></a>the best toys are the ones you don't even need to unpackage for him to play with. <div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjMio0R8zwx0ShKenlsOWtFqyvHZLWgpS1SdN0OQdewsY38WA0DjRABuZw9MbND1D5nPkwLZh2M3_Cue590EXlznFhgrxdClDFsy2oQq1EW_f05Osxm16SJDr8PGfJL6pdyd4aq5yo7aY/s1600/IMG_4955.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjMio0R8zwx0ShKenlsOWtFqyvHZLWgpS1SdN0OQdewsY38WA0DjRABuZw9MbND1D5nPkwLZh2M3_Cue590EXlznFhgrxdClDFsy2oQq1EW_f05Osxm16SJDr8PGfJL6pdyd4aq5yo7aY/s400/IMG_4955.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304062567005858" /></a>laaaaaadies.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BUKbdTpizU71kPHgc8fI7D-4-sSzLsWiStaYoN7mvCa5-MMzP3Vqpy7Tjuv-YocT_xhMUGDEexiVwiRkxtNXg68UtCp0ZZy4y9VbyygLjd5fSIccWD8CpLRJmP4leSj8jLAhhKkqA8Y/s1600/IMG_4956.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0BUKbdTpizU71kPHgc8fI7D-4-sSzLsWiStaYoN7mvCa5-MMzP3Vqpy7Tjuv-YocT_xhMUGDEexiVwiRkxtNXg68UtCp0ZZy4y9VbyygLjd5fSIccWD8CpLRJmP4leSj8jLAhhKkqA8Y/s400/IMG_4956.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304046046949714" /></a>even more laaaaaadies.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCnfkRuTtWLJ4-q57hAv8TYZG69FVe3dzPCacNTQAmHlyFlZ7WOi6RzsBBRfy7XvD2_pul7cN51VWgwQ9f5GBw8Uu2yVzAPcF8DAJYqkGG8YhOsx19zE-8yQm1uL1Id2AM3eCzlvhpn4/s1600/IMG_4957.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGCnfkRuTtWLJ4-q57hAv8TYZG69FVe3dzPCacNTQAmHlyFlZ7WOi6RzsBBRfy7XvD2_pul7cN51VWgwQ9f5GBw8Uu2yVzAPcF8DAJYqkGG8YhOsx19zE-8yQm1uL1Id2AM3eCzlvhpn4/s400/IMG_4957.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304034712975394" /></a>pat holding and posing with someone else's gift to adam. which he really likes, by the way. he dive bombs the big green thing and cuddles with it like it's a kitty.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxXFEsEvLvbZ5o-l8EqZN_HejYUqwya5oAjPVYgz_qMiBGfy-nwBNM5dojq1bd9Is25pMpOPfLy4DralIuga7qvEp4CqqESnoYDd9mAa5s1G_INI52cOeABSXe5dqoOjUtmiXWmW7Vc0g/s1600/IMG_4958.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxXFEsEvLvbZ5o-l8EqZN_HejYUqwya5oAjPVYgz_qMiBGfy-nwBNM5dojq1bd9Is25pMpOPfLy4DralIuga7qvEp4CqqESnoYDd9mAa5s1G_INI52cOeABSXe5dqoOjUtmiXWmW7Vc0g/s400/IMG_4958.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304031803056978" /></a>smile like you're not even tired OR concerned about the mess and what you're going to do with all these leftovers.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghUZ9hrwvC8Wwui-rwwle7JEgGpP87tSrfuypDLFX4F_WK-zEyh1jSlsDxAwSmbek8SLnrnO0e8h1kwY9SEnQLDUWAbTY8ox25c4KaJhL95pW-lu2nT8z6qShmoXCeTIkkROhKfl4p3aA/s1600/IMG_4959.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghUZ9hrwvC8Wwui-rwwle7JEgGpP87tSrfuypDLFX4F_WK-zEyh1jSlsDxAwSmbek8SLnrnO0e8h1kwY9SEnQLDUWAbTY8ox25c4KaJhL95pW-lu2nT8z6qShmoXCeTIkkROhKfl4p3aA/s400/IMG_4959.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669304028014314194" /></a>I probably should have tried to photograph isabelle's face. sorry court.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQWOwTNW9HUOZTT-EkkXqNtWrL1U9EezMNccPbs3-rYlDYbKHxs8kTQ9lRhzq00hUwpHy2vrDHcquOhIseklAzPZ2c2Oywa5nHBC_6g_o99s9J_NLYc9eh7pB9aUmoAa20s-_CFj2Gxk/s1600/IMG_9950.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitQWOwTNW9HUOZTT-EkkXqNtWrL1U9EezMNccPbs3-rYlDYbKHxs8kTQ9lRhzq00hUwpHy2vrDHcquOhIseklAzPZ2c2Oywa5nHBC_6g_o99s9J_NLYc9eh7pB9aUmoAa20s-_CFj2Gxk/s400/IMG_9950.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669303213326596530" /></a>cupcake!!!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSF5ozB5VbPWXgS2I1jJZiga90tfNJ6H0hpq8nfIRaeboBd1MGIaRB9UqJEigz2fTcU7zT5efEYsfNBwu2A6nx744-2NUZLCwG70f_CfKPOvlyAb1CSQM28Fkb5aP0PwZUZZv9MvmDebU/s1600/IMG_9951.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSF5ozB5VbPWXgS2I1jJZiga90tfNJ6H0hpq8nfIRaeboBd1MGIaRB9UqJEigz2fTcU7zT5efEYsfNBwu2A6nx744-2NUZLCwG70f_CfKPOvlyAb1CSQM28Fkb5aP0PwZUZZv9MvmDebU/s400/IMG_9951.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669303207444558530" /></a>best believe we found it in his nose later.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEU85qdVz9B9G_0NYLf4QMSdvdRxLnO6APKMMOMcvYsQfKmH1F4eHpl4N2ZhTYf3cHIzQmOW6KUMK7hVVNN0NfgYxCqs32GkEbrbdx8jBvQUkkA1KqTJ57Hpyikm2b94bPynuxIc-4CHk/s1600/IMG_4962.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEU85qdVz9B9G_0NYLf4QMSdvdRxLnO6APKMMOMcvYsQfKmH1F4eHpl4N2ZhTYf3cHIzQmOW6KUMK7hVVNN0NfgYxCqs32GkEbrbdx8jBvQUkkA1KqTJ57Hpyikm2b94bPynuxIc-4CHk/s400/IMG_4962.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669303195513451042" /></a>ALL I CAN SMELL IS ICING.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2OGMXSeqPQ9O9mU2r9KNR9Uu-wiegC2L19FHbpRZfxOuE9VvV4Z7xYZDUEDBdMC8QZHRhkjyHGOkax43nwsNSnBgDkaTc5FWLvisPK3nbvSsLY8ZkGydKl0PCXg5JncJI8eOximQqRik/s1600/IMG_4964.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2OGMXSeqPQ9O9mU2r9KNR9Uu-wiegC2L19FHbpRZfxOuE9VvV4Z7xYZDUEDBdMC8QZHRhkjyHGOkax43nwsNSnBgDkaTc5FWLvisPK3nbvSsLY8ZkGydKl0PCXg5JncJI8eOximQqRik/s400/IMG_4964.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669303192795120066" /></a>andree came in costume, she doesn't normally dress this pretentiously.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3WTlk2IYecMlbsXWWHxSeEVSKOr2xlX5xWbynW1XVpt2w2N-fhyphenhyphenVYe7Yo1N7ZZ-7lo6VcGaYQqdnnwwwlMRCI3q0YYmUcvy_1fffgJFTN-Ct7EITFzVkqh9I-gb95JOHkDyT_Z_gycY/s1600/IMG_4965.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl3WTlk2IYecMlbsXWWHxSeEVSKOr2xlX5xWbynW1XVpt2w2N-fhyphenhyphenVYe7Yo1N7ZZ-7lo6VcGaYQqdnnwwwlMRCI3q0YYmUcvy_1fffgJFTN-Ct7EITFzVkqh9I-gb95JOHkDyT_Z_gycY/s400/IMG_4965.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5669303186745194194" /></a>the last guy to leave. "the invitation said until 6" he said, and then pat alone got to hang out with adam without twenty other people trying to steal him. </div><div><br /></div><div>house is clean now. fridge and snack cupboard are JAMMED with food. some lucky trick-or-treaters are going to get tupperwares full of spinach dip tomorrow night. </div></div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4781204212027952541.post-12601991027672656912011-10-23T14:04:00.004-05:002011-10-23T14:25:28.329-05:00post birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0z6LO5VP_gNb-4Au_mAEsbN3djBel0HSvtweU_293VI54PTVOWSzc3KC-yE4JaDunSYi1jqpyL8jC_Nqyp_XB5oZjsG0_rjSHcDloHfcbhtYRvsbeiUN6JN_7mY214uAk47qGHx9uOv4/s1600/IMG_9851.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0z6LO5VP_gNb-4Au_mAEsbN3djBel0HSvtweU_293VI54PTVOWSzc3KC-yE4JaDunSYi1jqpyL8jC_Nqyp_XB5oZjsG0_rjSHcDloHfcbhtYRvsbeiUN6JN_7mY214uAk47qGHx9uOv4/s400/IMG_9851.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666766923436919138" /></a>happy birthday adam, love mom and dad. <div><br /></div><div>I did not wrap presents because I would be the one opening them. instead, I got home after work on friday and I put to one side all his other toys and placed the new ones right where they'd be shiny and exciting. not photographed: doug also got adam a car mat, the kind every cool boy had when we were little, but I put it upstairs. </div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOyyc8htsgPEDc_5cSPQWdd7SpTeD1Zk0rGSUwC_ddukomQ55A_8mlnd2KeuivwR4sDTFDP-zspmqtptlZcP5o1R4qYo4_EbHNh-ZLfRvWnKOaUH47sFq6olaln_s-0HHFJQ_-TdTdgs/s1600/IMG_9854.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOyyc8htsgPEDc_5cSPQWdd7SpTeD1Zk0rGSUwC_ddukomQ55A_8mlnd2KeuivwR4sDTFDP-zspmqtptlZcP5o1R4qYo4_EbHNh-ZLfRvWnKOaUH47sFq6olaln_s-0HHFJQ_-TdTdgs/s400/IMG_9854.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666766312342064258" /></a>love auntie kaylin, uncle jared, and brielle and hannah. who loves cars? adam loves cars.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWkivRv_fr-f0R6GazfWjWB2g3IEpvTfhzsCstmNH16toyVQodZLcnb_F11ZrZsTVIjyWoDnKC26r9Ti3z3AgAgTbminJ9h5yGZK1XGII53kUikec9cMj1wiqXDaemTtl2n_-dpJfryc/s1600/IMG_9862.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnWkivRv_fr-f0R6GazfWjWB2g3IEpvTfhzsCstmNH16toyVQodZLcnb_F11ZrZsTVIjyWoDnKC26r9Ti3z3AgAgTbminJ9h5yGZK1XGII53kUikec9cMj1wiqXDaemTtl2n_-dpJfryc/s400/IMG_9862.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666766305250230434" /></a>love grandma and grandpa. my dad has been waiting to buy boy toys for about 27 years, he spent a VERY long time selecting exactly the right tool bench for adam.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1a-BFzlTDVzGIQLwU3M0X_gXi6xb8X4CxYMRD153NY8a_nEC9HZo5C1v8Ga8QbQk-jQEHJfsoq67qhorOWfLFyHMstYDXTf7jBCIJs5g5YPObFpFH0SSNjdbnMayNef6ioo01CdbDM7M/s1600/IMG_9865.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1a-BFzlTDVzGIQLwU3M0X_gXi6xb8X4CxYMRD153NY8a_nEC9HZo5C1v8Ga8QbQk-jQEHJfsoq67qhorOWfLFyHMstYDXTf7jBCIJs5g5YPObFpFH0SSNjdbnMayNef6ioo01CdbDM7M/s400/IMG_9865.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666766303931231954" /></a>oh and a ball pit. and 100 or so balls. that is EXACTLY the sort of gift that someone gets for a kid they don't live with or clean up after. adam loves it, and we are learning to love picking up 100 or so balls from all over the basement.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGGBA-WPR46j2H_PlNp8Cjjcil_pRBwZkYbvdXc3RMHHBQQtw9aMfVhcuNnDH2FYD65e6hOqGiAAOEB8p90EN7YjX_FfZpBp-U2mkU5tXu2W_eC2pgAoa0ziVO6wj4uOB3egpD-yVgtE/s1600/IMG_9871.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzGGBA-WPR46j2H_PlNp8Cjjcil_pRBwZkYbvdXc3RMHHBQQtw9aMfVhcuNnDH2FYD65e6hOqGiAAOEB8p90EN7YjX_FfZpBp-U2mkU5tXu2W_eC2pgAoa0ziVO6wj4uOB3egpD-yVgtE/s400/IMG_9871.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666766299186976498" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">oh grandma. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyr9ioY9h7gg3-ay3l1wlbjiYNAVQwIF5PApqy1k8Mv4bQ7pZOQECNhEPoPNZ1v3wOhYJkroVTID6YtrCt3yP5Kc6dCtSkkysXEfh6dnNEB1wE6FlYHAQ6yoABnYpE_1c7DJKo2dWIlmc/s1600/IMG_9874.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyr9ioY9h7gg3-ay3l1wlbjiYNAVQwIF5PApqy1k8Mv4bQ7pZOQECNhEPoPNZ1v3wOhYJkroVTID6YtrCt3yP5Kc6dCtSkkysXEfh6dnNEB1wE6FlYHAQ6yoABnYpE_1c7DJKo2dWIlmc/s400/IMG_9874.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666765861371256930" /></a>this was the gift we'd originally planned to get adam but it's missing pieces, the vital kind that hold it together, so we're gonna have to go find some screws and then call it a christmas present.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WOoglMRF0JXRtkaOMqBFkkZi3cEHHF1pX_XpDPQRNW_nvsbBuF5rG6XDAYQUjZT19T2cwO7TcYCO-8pVVMmiaLNahhX3Lda6T0TlDgGfC0HIvt7HmF9ay-or7t1NEjlc1O_v5WfKTP4/s1600/IMG_9883.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4WOoglMRF0JXRtkaOMqBFkkZi3cEHHF1pX_XpDPQRNW_nvsbBuF5rG6XDAYQUjZT19T2cwO7TcYCO-8pVVMmiaLNahhX3Lda6T0TlDgGfC0HIvt7HmF9ay-or7t1NEjlc1O_v5WfKTP4/s400/IMG_9883.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666765857218537074" /></a>this is a kid who knows exactly where cupcake goes.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs2EiXgKbpw3hpUDFQsoRb5PVLvsq-UnPjkWF0XXF79Txp-p57wFX0-K0xOsPah7aEwT8OcN452XxKwCEyPF0V_OrB7rT_tLhgOTp297P-ii7abswAaIBMGpTZsXbZ5GU7IPWYVGGRtXE/s1600/IMG_9884.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs2EiXgKbpw3hpUDFQsoRb5PVLvsq-UnPjkWF0XXF79Txp-p57wFX0-K0xOsPah7aEwT8OcN452XxKwCEyPF0V_OrB7rT_tLhgOTp297P-ii7abswAaIBMGpTZsXbZ5GU7IPWYVGGRtXE/s400/IMG_9884.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666765851666189346" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ghph02LFJMLivE75TKBgmGhYf8PFRAZnes_LrAhnfGFDoUcHnsfIOfegqEijaWKzdgoMJpYVglMA7bNrQ_FzbVQHmPC-1dkcMk3VnjHo-B_BsrfI3YvvceGzc9Kd2Qgbv10cKlnZSP0/s1600/IMG_9886.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-ghph02LFJMLivE75TKBgmGhYf8PFRAZnes_LrAhnfGFDoUcHnsfIOfegqEijaWKzdgoMJpYVglMA7bNrQ_FzbVQHmPC-1dkcMk3VnjHo-B_BsrfI3YvvceGzc9Kd2Qgbv10cKlnZSP0/s400/IMG_9886.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666765845080569218" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPB9bjlESp5inZ_2yqcVnyRtGzlXsPnCHml4Z_6mGDKRUennIO4Px48nwJxnVi99Fvj73SJSGYxX76I3uLLS3dUdYYBOJSI00zAhEWMU5f5RIF2L5RM9Cn2vmEyG3WBBwPlGEz0g7q9HQ/s1600/IMG_9890.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPB9bjlESp5inZ_2yqcVnyRtGzlXsPnCHml4Z_6mGDKRUennIO4Px48nwJxnVi99Fvj73SJSGYxX76I3uLLS3dUdYYBOJSI00zAhEWMU5f5RIF2L5RM9Cn2vmEyG3WBBwPlGEz0g7q9HQ/s400/IMG_9890.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666765841749104386" /></a>the real birthday party isn't until next week (and if you haven't rsvp'd yet, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?) so grandma meredith got adam a pumpkin book and anything else has to wait until grandpa gets home. fine by us, because birthdays are exhausting. yesterday he wore himself out just on new toys, I can't wait to see how he reacts to new toys AND A house full of well-wishers. </div><div><br /></div>kristynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13446820356427745886noreply@blogger.com0