Tag Archives: marriage

Alice is . . .

A thumb sucker.

DSC_0185A toe sucker!

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Very bendy.

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Eater of anything crinkly.

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Fierce chewer of books.

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Eater of pages.

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Reader of books.

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A solids enthusiast!

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No longer this small.

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Or this small!

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Loved by her grandma Sara!

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Pretty.

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Happy.

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Talkative.

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Sleepy.

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Big enough to sit up in the Target cart.

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Always interested in new surroundings.

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A scrump-diddly-umptious little beach baby.

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Make that a sand-eating scrump-diddly-umptious little beach baby.

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Make that a roly, poly, roliest, poliest, bathing-suited sand-eating scrump-diddly-umptious little beach baby.

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I WANT TO EAT THIS BABY RIGHT UP! Is what I’m trying to say.

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There’s just something about babies in bathing suits with their roly poly little baby flesh just begging to be kissed and snuggled.

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Mom?

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Mom? It’s time to get on with it.

Okay, the baby is right. Time to move on.

Where were we? Oh.

Alice is . . .

My little office companion.

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Able to pull herself up! (When did this happen?)

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A Chicagoan.

DSC00223Blue-eyed.

DSC_0460Dimply.

DSC_0009Mine!

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Mine, mine, mine!

DSC00229Okay . . . and his.

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Ultimately, God’s.

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Dreams, Dylan and my cuties

I have ten things to say this morning. I don’t know what they are yet but as I start typing everything will become clear.

1. I’m in the newly remodeled section of my office and it’s FAB. Spacious, clean, organized, with plenty of baby-safe play space. Alice is asleep in the small pack n’ play I have set up in the bathroom. The sky is grey, the workload light, and I’m about to brew my first cup of coffee.

2. Last night I made Nigella’s Chicken alla Cacciatora. It was so much better than I had imagined (and I had imagined being quite pleased). If I were a good blogger, I would have photographed at least the end result and typed up the recipe for y’all.

Unfortunately, the whole “good blogger” thing went by the wayside long, long ago.

3. For the past two week I’ve been singing a line from Bob Dylan. That line that goes “eeeeverybody just get stoned” (or something like that). Except I sing it “eeeeverybody must get high . . . c’mon y’all and let’s get high.” I don’t know why I sing this. It’s not even the right lyrics. And it can’t be called singing either–it’s more like an annoying, lilting chant. Not to mention I don’t even want anyone to get high. It just seems to flow out of my mouth unbidden.

I think I’ll start punching myself to prevent further eruptions.

4. These two cuties.

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One is sleeping, one is at school dissertating away. I think I’ll just sit here and look at this picture . . . for an hour.

5. Alice thinks kicking a ball is hilarious. It looks like she’ll turn out to be a soccer player, but since she’ll crack up every time she kicks the ball, she might not get very far in her career. “She’s running like the wind, folks . . . what a pace, she’s flying past the defense, yes, yes, it looks like she’s going to score . . . oh wait . . . oh wait . . . she’s getting a little giggly, but she’s keeping it together . . . and she prepares to kick the ball, here we go, here we go . . . oh . . . oh no . . . ladies and gentlemen, player #53 has collapsed on the field and appears to be laughing hysterically . . . well, there you have it. At least she seems to be having a good time out there. Phil, back to you.

6. I love post it notes. They keep my life organized in one pile of square, orange lists.

7. These two individuals appear to be related.

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What do you think?

8. I had a stressful dream last night. My mom, sister, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Brian were picking me up in a small car. As I climbed in (3 adults in the back = waaay too crowded), Mom said “It’s going to take us about two weeks to get there.” Two weeks! What?? Suddenly I realized it was going to be the worst two weeks of my life, stuck in a car, feeling claustrophobic and antsy and cramped. So my uncle Brian said, “well Jenna, if you’re looking for another option for one of the days, you can go on a 10 mile hike and we’ll pick you up at the end.” However, the hike was through this Arizona-like desert climate, and I realized I was going to sweat and be miserable and hotter than I’d ever been in my life. Plus, I didn’t have hiking shoes. My sister Erica had hiking shoes. They were black moccasin-style shoes that looked like those things you wear in the water. However, they were still connected to what looked like a sheet of rubber, as if they hadn’t been stamped out at the factory. I then realized that the rubber material was designed to stretch exactly enough to allow her to take one step. It was part of her foot therapy. Then suddenly I remembered that I hadn’t weaned Alice. “Wait you guys!” I said. “If I do the hike, you guys can’t feed Alice because didn’t bring any frozen milk. Plus, I’d have to lug the breast pump through the desert to keep up my supply.” Everyone quickly realized this was unrealistic. I was off the hook.

9. What this dream may mean:

-We’re going on a family vacation in early August with my aunt, uncle, etc., and I actually have been worried about the heat. Sweating makes me quite grumpy.

-I really don’t own any kind of hiking shoe, tennis shoe, or sport-worthy shoe. This may need to be rectified before our family vacation.

-I’ve always secretly wanted water moccasins. Wait, no! That’s a snake. I mean those aqua shoe thingies, know what I mean?

-With our summer plans for the next couple months (various trips, various weddings), Alice’s care has been on my mind a lot. Like, for some of these events we could leave her with a babysitter, but pumping on the go is not exactly tea with the Queen. Harrumph.

10. I love Chicago . . . but I also love this.

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If I could poof myself anywhere right now, it might just be this lovely yard in Stevens Point, Wisconsin. Where my mom would bring me an iced caramel latte and I would read a good novel in the shade of the umbrella. Alice would investigate the yard and try her first fistful of dirt, and around lunchtime my husband would bring me a gourmet sandwich he had just made with luscious, grilled portobello mushrooms. And then, after spending the day outside, I’d eat a stir fry that my parents had just thrown together with produce from their garden.

Aaaaah . . . Monday dreaming.