Meet Lincoln

This is Lincoln. He's my sister Cyndie's little guy. I love him. Like crazy. We got to hang out a lot over New Year's, but now, sadly he's back home in Utah, and I'm missing him a lot. He is such a fun, happy little guy, the one that puts the chill in chillax. He is all smiles, all the time. (Unless you are eating ice cream and not giving him any. Then he panics a little. Okay, a lot.)

For those of you who have not been fortunate enough to meet this happy, chunky boy (and for those of you have) please enjoy a tiny photo journey of his visit with us. One glimpse at that winning smile and those golden locks, and you'll know exactly why I miss him so much. All 31 glorious pounds of him.

Oh, baby, what's not to love?

Toothless Wonder

Julia just lost her third tooth yesterday morning (it popped out while Craig was helping her brush her teeth) and I realized that I forgot to document the first two tooth losses. Here they are in all their gummy glory.

Tooth # 1 lost on May 20, 2010

Tooth # 2 lost on June 13, 2010

Tooth # 3 lost on January 19, 2011

Mommy thinks that the Daddy Tooth Fairy is a little too generous, though...when I suggested a dollar for this recent loss, (4 times the amount that I ever got as a kid...more than enough to keep up with inflation) I should have known that he'd actually put two dollars there. (Welcome to trying to find the parenting balance between a Mommy who was raised with four other siblings, and a Daddy who was an only child.)

 Next time I'll suggest 50 cents.

Is This What it Feels Like??

It is not at all uncommon in our family for Mommy to have her nose stuck in a book. I love reading, have always loved it, and, in motivated, spirited spurts, I do it as much as I can.

Craig, sweet honey that he is, is many things. But a reader he is not. Try as I have over the years to introduce a book to him that I think he will love, he has always dismissed the idea without much consideration. (The main argument? "Reading is work. It is not relaxing. It is not fun.")

Imagine my astonishment, then, when we went to California this weekend and he had his nose stuck in a book the whole time. This was a book about finances that my sister got him...apparently I have been offering him the wrong material altogether. From start to finish, this kiddo has wanted to do nothing but read. Shocked is an understatement for my reaction.

I love that he is suddenly reading. I really do. But is this what it feels like to be on the other end of that book? I have a feeling that this will take some adjusting on my part. You see, I am used to being the ignorer, not the ignored. I am the one who zones out, pretending to be a part of a conversation when really I actually care only minimally about what is being said. I am the one who brings books to the dinner table. I am the one who leaves the room to take a shower, only to be caught red-handed twenty minutes later, still unshowered, with the water running and a book in my hands. What if it turns out there is another, just like me? I don't know if we can manage the household with two zoned-out adults. I suppose time will tell.

While we were getting ready to leave Laura's house in California last night, we paused for a minute to talk about what a great time we'd had. "I can't believe how nice this has been, I said." Craig replied, "I can't believe how much I got to read."  "Wow," I responded. "I cannot believe you just said that.

This is definitely new territory for me.

Pure Joy

I love the feelings that this image invokes: freedom, happiness, innocence. Such a perfect moment of sunshine and wonder. Smile on, little girl, make it last; life just gets more complicated from here on out.

Hoarding: The Sport of the Future

You may have heard of a new show on A & E called "Hoarders." As fascinating as it is disturbing, this show is not for the faint of heart. Each episode showcases two individuals with a serious hoarding issue. Some of the people are food hoarders, others hoard junk. Either way, none of these folks can throw anything away, and often times it gets to the point where they are sacrificing their own health as well as family relationships just because they feel a need to hold on to their stuff.

Not unlike my low tolerance for horror movies, this show is pretty difficult to watch. (I will admit, though, that it also has a classic train-wreck effect: as horrifying as it is, it is extremely difficult to take your eyes off the carnage.) And since we're on the subject of horror movies, I must point out that the scary subject matter also has me yelling at the screen in a manner one would expect from a tense audience during a Freddy Krueger movie; only, instead of cries of "Don't go in there! He's behind the door!" I hear myself saying things like "Ugh! Just throw it away! It's GARBAGE!"

But, for all its disgustingness, I will say that the program does serve a purpose, other than shocking and offending the nation's most sensitive stomachs: It makes you want to clean like never before. Craig and I watched a couple episodes last Sunday, and despite the fact that we finished after midnight and had to get up relatively early the next morning, we both went downstairs, and without saying a word to each other, started cleaning. I'm not just talking pick-up-the-toys cleaning, either. This was a serious endeavor, going through cupboards and drawers, trashing unused items and putting things aside that needed to be donated. In the true spirit of our unplanned joint venture, Craig made me get rid of a bunch of jars in the kitchen cupboard that I was saving just in case I ever needed them, and I started bugging him about the George Foreman grill that we never use that he just can't quite let go of. It was pure, unadulterated, purging bliss, brought on by nothing more than A&E's desire to exploit one of the strangest neuroses our fine country has to offer: having too much dang crap.

So, what traumatizes you into cleaning like a mad-person?