365 days

1 day.



1 year.


We are celebrating this beautiful boy and all that he is.

While in Minnesota I had this great idea that I would set up a little photo shoot with my favorite subject in honor of Valentine's Day. Really, what else is there to do once the snow has been shoveled?

What does every photo shoot need? Props! Given that I'm not so big on cutesy (top hat, baby tuxedo, and red roses?), I decided I would sew a simple heart pillow. (Remember, the snow was shoveled.)

Of course the best time to start a project, especially sewing, is late at night. It was around 11:45pm when I was 3/4 of the way done that I realized perhaps I could have picked a simpler method, like, oh I don't know... a heart cut from red construction paper?

The following day I waited for some good light, set the scene, dressed Anders, and handed him the heart... which he wanted absolutely nothing to do with.





Lesson learned? Simple is usually better.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.
(Holiday cards to follow.)

P.S. Rumor has it someone is ten months-old today. Ten months is far too close to twelve months for my liking.

Windchill

In a few days we will be on a plane heading East, ready to share in some merriment with the ones we love. There will be stories to tell, a baby to gush over, wine to share, too much food to eat, presents to exchange, and many-a-photo to take.

Unfortunately, there will also be this:

(Minnesota - December 2007)

It's a package deal. Albeit a cold, bitter package.

Happy Birthday Lilman

9 Months Old Today.

I know it is exactly the type of thing we're supposed to say, but it is hard to believe how fast the time has gone.

The Little Fall

Fall is in the air. Time keeps on ticking, and we're quickly finding ourselves remembering the good old days of sleepless nights and baby acid reflux. You've heard (or experienced) it all before — what happened to my little baby? How did he get so big?

All of that.

That's all well and good, but with age comes great adventures and responsibilities. Anders has accepted, and excelling at, his role as resident baby singer, eater of sweet potato puffs, constant stander and less frequent faller. Though it is a bit early, there are signs he's already accepted the burden of taking care of his parents as we inch toward the Septembers of our lives. We take care of him, and in turn, he takes care of us.

To celebrate this beautiful symbiosis we have going, we decided Anders should have his first brush with pumpkins AND reality TV. Luckily, we live minutes from the littlest pumpkin-growing reality TV stars around - The Roloffs. We visited the farm, pet some goats, looked at some pumpkins, and had a lovely chat with Amy about the recent Nikon product line. We're pretty much family. To be sure, Anders wasn't quite ready for the excitement. Our hope is that the memories, and resulting photos, will endure for years to come.

FALL 2009!

Book Babies

It's no secret we are relatively introverted. Given the choice, we usually prefer to stay in where there are private jokes, paninis, and Netflix. "Outside" there might be people. Who want to converse.
This is why the Universe thought it would be funny to send us the most social baby on the planet. Anders lights up when he sees other kids. He looks at adults expectantly: "Surely they'd like to shower me with praise. Have they seen my dimple? Maybe if I coo..." Well aware that it's not all about me anymore, coupled with visions of Anders becoming John Candy in "Only The Lonely", I know what I have to do.

Our local library hosts Book Babies once a week. It's an hour of stories, songs, and playtime for infants. After a welcome song and a few short stories we are "encouraged" to stand and dance with our babies "to help them learn rhythm." Half of the adults can't find the beat and our awkward facilitator, who tends to stomp around in circles while holding a private conversation with the rooster puppet on her hand, seems to hear a different song completely. The music stops and buckets of toys are dumped out on the rug, signaling playtime has begun. This is where it gets tricky.

1. The adults are expected to socialize.
It's okay. I might sweat a little but I have enough social grace to ask the other adults about their babies and pretend to listen.

2. The toys are shared.
Anyone who knows babies exist also knows what happens to their toys. It's usually something like, "That's a cool dump truck! I am going to stuff the whole thing in my mouth! Whatever doesn't fit, I will lick!" or "She's sucking on a red block! It looks delicious! I want a taste RIGHT NOW!" This would be a good time to point out that at the exact moment Anders was born, I was given the ability (a super-power, really) to see microscopic germs. And let me tell you: They. Are. Everywhere.

So this is what happens: The music stops. The toys are dumped. The babies descend. The licking begins and the mom next to me turns to make small talk. As she introduces herself, I hear, "Hi. I'm So-and-so and this is my daughter, Swine Flu." Did you say Swine Flu? Wow, what a coincidence! That little boy over there is also named Swine Flu and he's here with his brother, Rotavirus.

Knowing that I don't want Anders to inherit my complexes (as lovable as they may be) nor remember his childhood as, "No, no honey. We don't play with those toys, we just look at them." I suck it up, close my eyes, and let him lick the wheels of the dump truck.

I guess I should also see if So-and-so and little Swine Flu want to get together for a play date. Maybe next time.