you're gonna hear me roarrrrrrrrrrrrr....

Monday, December 09, 2013

it's been a while. i've been struggling with this blogging thing. firstly because i think i have watched one too many episodes of law & order special victims unit for my own good. too many creepsters out there and here i am blasting the whole internet with pictures of him in all his adorable goodness. secondly, it is just hard to be consistent. but december is upon us, and mr. alexander just turned eight months on friday. and as usual, we let it pass without any fanfare. if it's possible for a first child to have second child syndrome, alexander will definitely have it. i can just see him telling his friends later in life, "yeah i tried to find photos of myself from a baby, but there aren't that many. maybe i'm adopted??"

but anyways, here we are, on this cold, gray, post snow, post ice monday morning. and i think by now you all know how we feel about mondays generally. but i have mustered up some energy to present unto you all my little scrunch: snotty, sick, with a clump of spit up in his hair, and fighting an ear infection. yet despite it all he is ready to attack this monday. RRRROOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRR!

*photo courtesy of the talented aichuan kwong*

rockin' the vote

Tuesday, November 05, 2013

when i was growing up, i distinctly remember one day when my grandmother and i stayed home while my mother, father, and older brother packed up a big file of papers and headed out the door. i was indignant that i was being left behind. but i later learned that i didn't have to go because i was born in the united states and was therefore a u.s. citizen. and the salient point being, i am the only one in my family that could be president. CARLSON 2016! no actually that is not the emphatic point. i remember that as soon as my father became a u.s. citizen, every year, no matter how big or small the election, president, governor, mayor, local county member, my father would come home from work, wait for my mom, and then take us all to the polls, despite my mother's protests of being too tired. my father would say, "no. we have to vote. this is our right now that we are citizens. we are going to vote." so from a young age, i have always heard, every year, that it is important, as a citizen to exercise the right to vote. so when i turned 18, i registered to vote, and from that point on, i have voted every year, by absentee ballot when necessary.

i find this lesson important for two reasons. firstly, asians, especially of my parents generation, are not politically active. you'll notice that during election years, the asian vote is rarely courted despite making up huge "voter blocks" in places like nyc, california, and houston, because asians simply don't get out and rock the vote. secondly, i think voting is important, especially in this day and age when we can become very cynical (for good reasons!) about politics and politicians. i'll be the first to admit: politics is dirty and politicians are generally slimy, and there is NO perfect candidate out there (except for CARLSON 2016!!!), but still there are important issues out there. i know it is easy to think that your vote doesn't count, but our government makes policies that affect our daily life. i have student loans. i have concerns about the public school system. i have concerns about how much traffic is in northern virginia and what my new governor will do to alleviate this problem without increasing VA's expenditure. etc etc etc. the list goes on. so this morning, i reiterated to the husband, one of the aforementioned cynical people who doesn't believe his vote counts, just how important it was to me to pass on the importance of voting to my little bunny. and even though our fire alarm went off twice! last night (and yes, we were pantsless both times) and we were exhausted, and running late for work, and it was on the nippy side out, we bundled up ADC, and trudged down to our polling center, and began what i hope will be many years of voting together.

*all bundled up and waiting in line to vote and all smiles after voting. we wrote papa's name in for VA Attorney General!*

summer's last hurrah

Tuesday, October 08, 2013

now that we've gotten past the rottenness of mondays and we've entered the acceptance phase of the grieving cycle, let's relive the weekend. weeks ago, a good friend and i planned to officially kick off the unofficial start of fall by taking our families out to cox farms. between work schedules and travel schedules, our families could only have gone on this joint outing one weekend in october, but we felt confident about it. after all, it was listed as a prime weekend on the cox farm event calendar. being a prime weekend means only two things: firstly, you pay extra for your ticket (yippeee! said no one ever) and secondly that we would have prime fall weather. you know, not too hot, not too cold, but just right, in that baby bear goldilocks way. warm with just a bite of crisp air.

i was so looking forward to this, because as you may know, it is a rare opportunity for me to get the husband and the best friend to do any kind of physical activity. but muahahahhaha, i could trick them into the corn maze walk-athon. (backstory, shortened version: two years ago when we all went to a farm out in maryland to do a corn maze, we followed the leader, a.k.a. husband, and circled the corn maze for an hour and a half before we made it out. it was glorious, but only for me. i'm pretty sure everyone else was ready to shoot a rescue flare up.)  but oh mother nature, she just likes to throw wrenches into my best laid plans. all week long, i faced steadily climbing temperatures, which is not always a bad thing, if we had started the week out at 55 degrees. but we started the week out at 75 degrees and peaked at 92 degrees on saturday - just in time for our fall festival day of fun. in case you're wondering, 92 degrees is not conducive to trekking through an unshaded corn maze (and most likely getting lost), nor is it optimal for drinking hot apple cider. i couldn't even wear the cute fall outfit i had mentally chosen all those weeks ago when we first made plans to head out to the farm. pretty much, the best thing you can do in 92 degrees at a fall festival is sit in the picnic area under a roof, a.k.a in the shade. $17 per ticket! money well spent!!

and now, our fall festival story in pictures:
*one of us is determined to have fun, one of us is highly skeptical, and one of us is thinking, "i cannot believe they made me skip nap time for this."*

*first stop: hay ride time
*alexander looking his scrunchy-licious skeptical best, theo: "oooh prickly grass. i should grab it!"*

*waddup ladies. check out my ride...yeah i am not impressed either. *

*a picture for our fall family postcards. oh wait, we're all sweating, dressed for the beach...thank goodness for the gourds!*

*so excited about forced friendships and forced pictures with an abundance of squash*
*"lucas, what was the best part of the day?"
"it's a toss up between ice cream..."*

*"...and tractors."*
*highlight of alexander's day: tummy time on a blanket on top of wood chips, under the shade!*

*the birth of a rock band drummer. every asian parent's dream come true!*

*wait, what did you say? we're going after this? in the air-conditioned car?...*


let me give you some medicine for that bad case of mondays you have

Monday, October 07, 2013

every sunday evening, a slow feeling of dread sinks in because soon it will be monday. as if the anticipation of the weekend coming to a close is not bad enough, monday rolls around, as mondays are wont to do, in that particularly nagging monday way. and bam, we are smacked with a serious case of the mondays. today is particularly monday-y, in the dreariest ways possible. coming off a weekend of 90 degree weather and miles and miles of endless sunny skies, in october no less, we woke this monday-est of monday mornings to clouds so thick they clawed at my skin when i left for work. it's just gray outside, which makes me feel gray on the inside, which does not make for a winning gray-gray combination.

but i have found the cure to a bad case of the mondays. now if only i could bottle it up and sell it! yet here i am, giving the cure out for free. just call me a purveyor of happiness and wonder.

ready for the cure?







tell me that didn't bring a smile to your face? happy monday and happy fall - may your autumn be the pumpkiniest of pumpkins, with happiness to boot! *photo cred to the talented, loving auntie to alexander: aichuan kwong*

you'd think we needed to call poison control

Monday, September 23, 2013

on saturday, alexander turned five and a half months. now before you think i am one of those crazy moms who celebrates insignificant milestones, i just want to say two things: first we did not celebrate alexander turning five and a half months, we just used that date as the rough time around which we would introduce solids. and second, we celebrated alexander turning one month old by lighting a match that we stuck into a brownie square. and we took a picture, so just in case future babies feel like we love them less, we can show them just how much or little rather, fanfare alexander received. so anyways back to five and a half months. the time has flown. look at my baby at five and a half weeks and now at five and a half months.

on friday, i went to trader joe's and brought my scrunchy bunny an acorn squash. i spent part of nfl sunday roasting that thing and puree-ing it - i missed part of the redskins game, which it turned out, i didn't really need to stay and watch anyway. here is a chronicle of our first try at "solid" food.

*proud pureed squash maker and clearly a first time mom. check out that serving size!*

*a giddy alexander sitting at the grown up table, pre-squash*

*post squash GAG! he's thinking, "someone call poison control, my parents are trying to off me"*

*please mommy, no more squash. please."

when you can't beat 'em, you join 'em

Friday, September 13, 2013

i'd like to dedicate this post to my girl b. the otherday, we had an off and on text conversation for an hour, about deep things, like the game candy crush. (side note, yes, i said an hour conversation via text. i hate phone conversations. i'm either all or nothing. if i can't have a face-to-face conversation with you, i'd prefer to be as impersonal as possible, so please just text me. of course this makes no sense whatsover, but hey, that's my modus operandi).

you should be impressed that two moms, both having five month olds, could carry on a text conversation for over an hour. those of you without babies, you just go on not appreciating having the use of both your hands, at all times. 

we were discussing how awesomely useless our husbands can be as a result of candy crush. not just useless in the "babe, please take out the trash," and he responds, "uh huh..ok [glazed look staring at fake candies dropping down his computer screen]" way. i mean also useless in the, "it's eleven pm, the baby is asleep, time for us to have our quality deep conversations" emotional kind of way. 

sample deep conversation:
me: babe, i'm fat
husband: uh huh...[trill of candies vanishing off the screen in the foreground]
me: babe, i'm talking to you about important things
husband: i'm listening...oh crap, i only have four more moves to get the cherry down to the bottom
me: forget it, i'm going to bed
husband: no no no. i'm listening. really. [pushes the button to start a new round]

see what i mean? candy crush had been threatening my marital bliss for weeks. so the other night, as husband lay in bed, gleefully playing to the sound of candies vanishing, i scooted on over and peeked over at the game. what's this? intriguing!!! and there i was, telling the hubs which candies to switch around, and before you knew it, together, we had beat a round of candy crush. i knew we were invincible as a team, and clearly, candy crush proves it. and now i've crossed over to the dark side. candy crush here i come. sorry b. if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

now eleven pm quality time around here, is us laying side by side, shouting candy crush moves at each other. i'm convinced this is what long lasting marriages are built out of - marital candy crush teamwork. please feel free to email me for more marital advice. i'm an expert ;)

now excuse me while i go brush up on my candy crush skills. i've got a date around eleven tonight and i can't let my partner down.

never forget

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

*baby alexander remembering grandpa alexander*

i often think back to september 10, 2001. life pre-9/11 and how i can never go back. i think of how starkly divided my life is -  my soul before september 11 and a different, wounded soul after. i use to believe that this rip in my soul could be fully healed and the two versions of my being could be reconciled, but i have come to realize (and accept, a little bit) that there will never be a time that my "now me" will not long for the carefree, whole september 10, 2001 version of me. but that version of me was a lifetime ago.

there is really something amazing about the human ability to go on living; a new normal takes shape and we stumble our way into it. at first, it seems impossible. the grief is blinding. but one hour, becomes one day, and then before we knew it, we had survived the grief and loss by a week, and then a month, and then a year, and suddenly ten years. and now it has been twelve years. twelve incredibly long and incredibly short years. twelve years of big events: birthdays, graduations, weddings, babies. twelve years of mundane events: work, emails, phone calls, family dinners. when i look back, it hardly seems possible that we have made it twelve years without my father, but then what other choice did we have? we had to go on. so yes, this resilience is amazing.

but my father's absence these twelve years makes our new normal bittersweet. in this new normal, we are always aware: dad. isn't. here. new memories keep getting created and none of them include my father. now when a memory of my father pops up in my head, it seems so long ago because it is so long ago.

so today, 9/11/2013 we never forget the lives lost. we always remember. but for my family, it is not just today - everyday, as part of our new normal, we never forget.

have i mentioned?

Friday, August 23, 2013

that the carlsons looooooooove fridays? the weekend is on the horizon, so close i can smell it - almost touch it! i've already got  a mighty to-do list for tomorrow; as usual, i am sure i have planned far more than we can get done, but at least i am good at something. it's called overreaching and overestimating my capacity. it's a real good self esteem builder when i fail time and time again.

but before i start shouting commands at husband and strategically mapping out my saturday, i am going to sit here, drink my black tea, and savor the thought of the weekend - oh so close! (as my blackberry rings off the hook)

what better way to kick off weekend than this?

is there any other more appropriate response to the onset of the weekend? 

romance is a box of tampons

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

random photo of alexander to kick off a post that is entirely not related to alexander. off to a fantastic blogging start already!

this one's for the ladies.

ladies, one of the signs that you have won the husband lottery, even in spite of his ability to play computer games ad nauseum, is if your husband will go to the local drug store, in the light of day, and pick up a box of tampons. bonus points if he is man enough to call you, and ask you what brand, what size, how many, etc., while in the drug store.

i just have to say, i feel like mother nature has cheated me. i was told that i would go many months, and likely up to a year, with a 'flo no mo' life after giving birth, as long as i was breastfeeding. well despite being a class A milk cow, with the ability to feed africa (said the lactation consultant), flo came back with a vengeance, leaving me curled in a ball. lucky for me, husband took the baby on a walk to the local drug store to pick up some flo necessities, leaving me to take a hot shower and feel incredibly bloated in private. if that's not love, well then i do not know what is.

and so, in this post baby world of ours, a walk to the drug store, and a box of tampons later, and i am swooning. it's the little things i tell you.

note to husband who may or may not be reading this post: a box of tampons does not then excuse you from the obligation to plan date nights or buy me flowers, or take a cue from a chick flick. (what kind of lawyer would i be if i didn't protect myself from liabilities here?)

it's the hormones!

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

i do not cry in movies. i just do not. ask my friend, dianne, with whom i watched, i am sam. and while she sniffled next to me, i looked at her derisively, and said, "it's a movie. it's not real. this would never happen in real life." [i just got a blindingly bright revelation, i am my mom, because that is word for word, what my mom says to me every time we have watched pretty woman.]

ask my husband. i tease him all the time. you know those sport movies about overcoming racism and going all season undefeated, like remember the titans or glory road, the husband always tears up at the end. husband teared up at the end of the most recent les miserables movie. i am just that hard hearted. stone cold grace is my name. 

so i knew something was up when last friday, as friends gathered around our dining table, and we started to talk about charlotte's web (how did we even get there?) and all i could see in my head is the very last scene, when charlotte dies and wilbur is screaming, "charlotte! charlotte! charlotte!" in that adorable and hauntingly grieving animated pig way of his, and then all her babies but about three of them fly away once they hatch, with wilbur sort of chasing them saying something like, "wait! wait! don't go! don't go." and then i felt it so necessary to reenact this scene (myself starring as wilbur of course, all the while narrating the baby spiders flying away). 

ok all of you out there, you can pretend not to remember this scene, but please, this is one of those scenes from childhood that is burned into forever memory. and out of nowhere, i started to tear up (mid reenactment), much to my embarrassment, and husband's extreme surprise. actually, it was more than tearing up, i started to cry, cause hello, charlotte died!!! and the cute animated pig is heartbroken. i straight up started using my cloth napkin to calm down the waterworks, and for at least five minutes after that, i had to force myself to stop thinking about it, otherwise, the tears would have started to flow again. it just does not happen to me. i turned and looked at husband, and we simultaneously said, "what is going on? must be the hormones!"

so when i set out to write this post, i had every intention of finding the scene, a la youtube, where charlotte dies, and wilbur is desperately trying to keep her with him, but i just could not find it. this is the best i could find. 

but let's be honest, you all remember what happens next and that scene is playing in your head now. happy tuesday night!

finding the "ade" when given a lemon

Friday, July 19, 2013

as some of you know, husband and i have really been going through it with the house remodel and the crook of a contractor we hired. i have been going to bed angry, and waking up with clenched teeth, wondering to myself, "where is justice and righteousness in this world? and might it be ok if i carried out my own form of righteous punishment??"

but this week, as repairs and redos continued, we had fresh concrete poured in for new steps and a new driveway. progress! no more mud piles (for now)! husband had the brilliant idea to make our imprint and mark this momentous occasion/create a semi-permanent reminder of the h-e-l-l we have been going through.

so our little family marched out in the hot virginia sun, fyi, we have been going through a pretty killer heat wave. i feel that you must know this fact in order to appreciate how dedicated we were to turning a lemon of a situation into something more akin to lemonade.

**papa getting alexander's hands nice and moist to optimize hand imprint**

**papa unfurling little hands. surprisingly hard**

**and because it is so hard to unfurl those tiny hands and you can't exactly mash baby hands into mostly dry concrete, the finished product only displays alexander's knuckles. but isn't it the cutest knuckle print you ever did lay your eyes on? just say yes. **

and now, something totally not related. i had a special visitor at work yesterday. i think my boss thought i was kidding when i said i was going to go home with him. but i wasn't. but oddly enough, alexander went home and i had to stay at work.

**this little visitor definitely turned the lemon of working into more of a lemonade kind of day.**


Tuesday, July 09, 2013

it seems silly, trite almost, that at the end of a life, all we have are words - apparently useless words - when what we want is to have that life back, to hold that life, to feel that life. 

i learned, via facebook, of the passing of a friend of a friend, a dear believer of the Lord, after battling an aggressive cancer for about a year. you can read her story here.

to be honest, i did not know her very much, only as an acquaintance at best. but as i read her own account of her illness and treatments, i uttered to my husband, "life's not fair. why would the Lord allow the wicked to prosper while one of His own suffers?" (aside: i think, this must be the question of all those out there whose faith have been shaken, or all those out there who cannot quite let themselves believe in a God who permits such things. such seeming injustices. such suffering. i still grapple with this one.)

i wept for her - for someone i barely know. i wept for her husband. i wept for her mother. for her sister. i wept because i long to have the kind of faith that she had - to love the Lord and hope in the Lord even in the midst of intense, unimaginable suffering. i wept because i do not have this faith. i wept because through her, i had a fresh longing and prayer to the Lord that my life would be lived to love Him.  and i wept simply because sometimes words are not enough. in the space between words, there were tears. tears of sorrow, tears of repentance, tears of longing. 

so tonight, while i nursed alexander, i sang him this dear believer's favorite hymn, offering it up to the Lord as a remembrance of her, and more as a prayer for myself and for my son. 

there are no words to adequately end this post so i will conclude by leaving you with the lyrics of her favorite hymn. 

Lord You love me so immensely;
I would love You more intensely.
Every day and every moment,
O Lord, capture me.
Let my goal and my life's theme be,
Lord, to love You more supremely;
With all my heart, Lord Jesus,
Keep me faithful unto Thee.
Draw me, Lord, each day.
Take my veils away.
With a pure heart will I see You;
Lord I just love You.
Nothing else I seek;
No one else for me.
I would fully and absolutely
Give my whole being unto Thee.

a life lesson for this otherwise ordinary tuesday

Tuesday, July 02, 2013

dear readers, 

today i am going to give you a valuable life lesson. i will title it: sleep with your pants on or sleep with pants next to your bed. and a shirt for that matter.

at the risk of venturing into tmi territory, i will just say this, i tend to get warm when i sleep, so i like to sleep just in my undies, so that i can stick my leg out from under the covers. it's my own little self devised air-conditioning/venting system (patent pending). it's really great. supreme comfort.

but when the fire alarm starts shrieking "WARNING FIRE" at two forty five a.m., and you and your husband shoot out of bed...and when husband runs down the stairs in just his boxers, all heroically like the imaginary firefighter that he is, all the while screaming, "GRAB THE BABY!!!" and you run into the baby's room, scoop him up, and bound down the stairs, prepared to dash out of the house while husband tries to find the source of the fire or smoke, you really don't have time to consider the fact that you are still only in your underwears, and what a sight that will be. 

yes this is a true story. yes this happened last night. no there was not a fire. thankfully we did not have to go outside in our undies. but yes, i hovered around our front door, comforting a startled baby, and yes we were both without pants. and yes, we were terrified, especially since i had read the article about the 18 elite firemen who died fighting the wildfire in arizona right before going to sleep. it took a while to calm back down and fall asleep, as we lay in bed, conjuring up phantom smoke smells, and as my imagination ran wild, like anne of green gables wild, analyzing all the different possibilities and how we would get alexander out of the house if the fire had been such and such a way. i wish this on nobody.

but tonight, i will lay a pair of pajama pants next to each side of the bed so that we are prepared next time. tuck this away for your emergency preparedness box. this is something FEMA doesn't tell you about, but i have lived it. if and when you flee for your life, you will want to have pants on. 

and that is tuesday's life lesson.

the (not so) deep, dark secrets of new motherhood

Monday, July 01, 2013

whenever there is a sad face such as this, i catch myself, daily, as i make every silly attempt to turn that frown upside down, including cooing to alexander, making ridiculous faces at him, or massaging his belly to get his poops and gas out, thinking, i am overqualified for this gig. i have a law degree afterall! (forget the fact that i wasn't even using my law degree pre-ADC). and then i feel terribly, sickly guilty for thinking this, because the truth is, i am hardly qualified. it's much easier to worry about whether he has pooped today, how many times he has pooped and peed, and examining the color of his poop, than to really delve into and worry about my qualifications to be a mother. to be his mother.

as you all know or have come to know (hopefully/hopefully not), though i am not certifiably, in need of medication crazy, i am definitely vice mayor of crazy town. it's much scarier to think about all my shortcomings, all my flaws that i will inevitably pass on to my perfect baby. (side note, as one who use to think babies were annoying, needy, dispensers of disgusting bodily fluids, and social-life ruiners, trust me when i say that my baby is perfect. for instance, he has spit up exactly twice in his twelve weeks and two days of life. he has been sleeping through the night and goes down each night without a fight. not to brag or anything, but yes to brag. my baby is perfect). but in all seriousness, or more seriousness, because i was quite serious about my baby being perfect, it's terrifying to think that husband and i, all our imperfections, the obvious ones and the dark hidden ones, will be manifested in one way or another, on this mostly blank slate of a baby.

lately, when alexander gets frustrated, he has begun to exhibit a baby temper in reaction. he raises his left arm and slams it down in frustration. this usually happens when papa is playing with him when he is hungry. alexander is done with play time. he wants it to be eating time, and so he grunts in protestation and begins the aforementioned display of frustration and temper. it's sort of cute now, but having quite the vile temper myself, i can honestly say, this kind of temper, manifested out of frustration, looks, quite frankly, psychotic in an adult. and as much as i like to say, "oh he gets that from daddy," i am not fooling anyone - least of all myself.

so i return to my original point, it's much easier to worry about whether or not he is getting enough tummy time, and therefore whether or not he will ever have the strength to hold up his neck for a sustained period of time (and thus think, i am wasting my education!) than it is to come to grips with the truth: husband and i are grossly under-qualified to be parents. even though failure is not an option on project alexander, failure is most certainly around the corner. i know, when we meet failure face to face, i'm sure any day now, it will look eerily familiar, and, as if on cue, husband and i will turn, face each other and point - "he gets that from you!" we'll say in unison. and then we'll laugh, because that's how we do. but secretly, not so deep down inside, we'll both be terrified that he is, in fact, turning into one of us, if not both. the horror! seriously.

until that day, we take each moment, step-by-step, with so much joy, and so much trepidation, and by the grace of God, he won't turn into a serial killer. like how i set the bar real low? success = my son not being a serial killer (reference above point about being vice mayor of crazy town). but really, if only ted bundy's parents had had this small, but very appreciable aspiration.

the nanny diaries

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

today, alexander met his nanny, we call her miss lulu. she came a week before i go back into the office so that we could sort of play a game of shadows. she shadowed me to see how i like things done, and what schedule we keep him on, and i shadowed her, like one of those nanny cams, but only super visible. to be honest, it was sort of lovely. i had the chance to run out to the bank, and only had to grab my wallet. when was the last time i did that? and i was able to put dinner together without but one nursing interruption. but at the end of the night, long after nanny lulu left, long after husband and i put alexander down for bed, it hit me, i hardly spent time with my baby today. and it ached a little. husband says, "well babe, you won't be spending time with alexander when you're in the office." husband had to go all logically cruel and rational on me. i just looked at him with my, "ARE YOU TRYING TO MAKE ME CRY?!?!?!" look - yes, there is an actual look which i have perfected. 

so now, while husband sits at the kitchen counter, playing a game on his phone, i've been perusing pictures of alexander from the day he was born. apparently, husband is not trying to make me cry; turns out, I AM TRYING TO MAKE MYSELF CRY. but seriously, is it possible that my baby was ever this small? 

the twist is, i never thought i would like motherhood, much less love it. i honestly viewed it more as an inconvenience. and i never thought i would want to be a stay at home mom, but now i want to be one of those women that i use to pity. now, i would give anything to be that woman whose universe orbits around her baby. so tomorrow, i am going to snuggle him a little bit more, kiss on him a few extra kisses, and maybe hold him through one of his naps, babywise be damned. cause my days are numbered. 


Monday, June 03, 2013

what's that thing called? the thing that comes between friday and monday? what is it again? oh yeah, a weekend? remember that? and remember what we use to do on weekends? sleep in until the sun was setting? it is all a vague blurry memory now.

remember staying up past midnight?

remember having time to do laundry?

remember watching tv?

remember having time to make the bed? 

ok that last one never really happened even before mr. alexander came into our lives, but you get the picture. i had the luxury of time and freedom to make the bed if i had been disciplined enough to do it. 

now "weekends" consist of pretty much the same thing as the week. wake up, feed a baby, wipe his poopy butt, play with him, make silly noises and silly faces. wipe his butt. cross our fingers that we do not get pooped on. we don't sweat being pee'd on anymore. diaper that cute little butt, and try to put him down for a nap. all this before 7:30 a.m. if we start this ritual at 7:30 a.m., we have "slept in." and it is glorious! not having to get up on a saturday until 7:30! and even feeling well rested. 

i can't remember the last time we stayed up past midnight. once the little dictator goes down for the night, i start counting how many hours i have to sleep before having to wake up between four and five a.m. those four and a half hours of sleep go by way too quickly to squander on something as frivolous as staying up past midnight.

laundry?? what does having clean clothing feel like? now, we throw clothes in the wash. it ruminates for a few days, and when someone finally remembers to put them in the dryer, they need to be washed again. if we're lucky enough to get our own clothes in the dryer, then, out they come into a basket they go, where they live unhappily ever after - not fulfilling their wrinkle free destiny. but the dictator's clothes? they get washed, almost daily, and folded. 

tv...ah yes tv. i suspect the next time we watch our tv, it will be a machine that the smithsonian will ask to be donated for an exhibit. 

but honestly, i don't really miss my old life. i mean, really, for this face, i will pretty much do anything. wouldn't you???

indulge me won't you?

Friday, May 17, 2013

i am going to go out on a limb on this lovely, sunny, breezy friday and guess that you all want to see pictures of my adorable not-so-new-anymore baby boy. this week, we retired the newborn onesies. it was like taking a bullet straight to the heart. stop growing so fast baby boy. could you please stay warm, fuzzy, and cuddly forever? except with the ability to sleep through the night?
without further ado, please indulge me, and yourselves, quite frankly, in the many faces of adc.