Some Very Attractive Pictures of Myself

I never really think about how preposterous I must look hoisting this kid around in public. I'm surprised people don't run up and offer to help me, really.

Lily "helping" me in the garden...while squashing the strawberry plants. She sure is cute while doing it, though.

So...the floor of the baby's room is covered with chronologically organized photographs from the last 7 years of my life. They are making their way into albums but I have to print out about a billion pictures I missed on my first go through our computer files. All of the baby items are in boxes that are stacked in the hallway.

I am 35 weeks!

I want the baby's room to be done so that I can spend the rest of this pregnancy floating on an inner tube along a lazy river while people bring me food!

At least that's what I tell Tim my plan is. I also ask him if he could just carry the baby around for a little bit so I could get a break, or could he maybe give birth to the baby too? Because that would be really nice. Or maybe he can be pregnant next time instead of me? He is very sweet and always tells me that he would if he could.

Lily is a crack-up. Tonight we were listening to her talk and shout to herself after we put her to bed. We hypothesized as to what was actually going on in that crib: karate practice?

The other day I put her in time out for tearing yet another book. Oh I know, the simple answer would just be to take the nice, tearable books out of her reach, right? Except she will sit and amuse herself with those books for maybe 20 minutes at a time. DON'T YOU ASK ME TO GIVE UP THOSE 20 MINUTES. Back to the time out: "Lily, you are in time out. We do not tear books." I sit her on a dining room table chair. She smiles at me. "Lily, you are in trouble, ok? You can't tear books. That's not nice. It makes mommy sad." She smiles and tries to start pulling stuff off the table. "Lily, no. You just have to sit here, you're in time out." She lifts her cherubic little face to the ceiling and howls like a dog. And 1 minute has passed. I'd like to think she learned something from that.

Belly

Getting a little uncomfortable over here. Starting to sleep with multiple pillows in complicated arrangements. Unable to paint my own toes. Getting closer.

Figuring Things Out

(Note: Wild hair is due to me putting pigtails in and Lily pulling them out.)

Lily is figuring things out. Like how to get in her swing by herself.

Playing in the dog's water bowl and getting soaking wet.

How to throw a tantrum.

How to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

Smiling in the Neighborhood

Today we got to sponsor our neighborhood's Spring Fiesta (it's New Mexico...everything's a fiesta) and we had a blast. Here are Lily and I modeling our sweet Neighborhood Smiles shirts. And yes, my belly is distorting the logo. And yes, my protruding belly button made a nice nose for the "face". No shame here, friends, no shame. For some reason pregnancy actually makes me less self-conscious then usual. Which could explain why I was completely down with getting right in that limbo line at a birthday party the other night. What's funnier than a 7 months pregnant lady doing the limbo? I mean, I'd want to see it, so I guess I figure other people do as well.

Some of the Neighborhood Smiles crew, plus Uncle Pat.

Lily checking out the fire truck parked at the Fiesta.

Cooperate, little mascot!!

Hanging with Uncle Pat, her buddy.

Because Tim said I'm disappointing my blog followers

Friends, my husband is funny. I'll give you some examples.

Tim told me the other day that when he has patients come in the operatory reading People or Us Weekly (because who doesn't love catching up on trash when you're at the doctors'? I know I do!) he likes to make comments. As in he'll look at what they're reading and say, "Oh my gosh! There's little Taylor! Yeah, Taylor Swift...man, I used to babysit her." Or say they're reading about Natalie Portman. "Hey, it's Natalie! We used to go out." And the thing is that Tim is a really good liar. He'll say all of this in the most natural voice, totally deadpan. These patients have no idea what hit them. This is how my husband keeps himself amused during the day.

Today I was looking through our Martha Stewart Living magazine. In general I find this magazine to be inspiring, annoying, and depressing, all wrapped in one. I'll see a neat craft idea. Then I look at the directions and they really might as well be in Farsi because I have no idea what they mean. Or, hey! That bookshelf is so cool! But not for $5000. I was looking at a recipe for horchata (a tasty rice/milk/cinnamon drink that I love) and commenting that I didn't see why you would make it from scratch when you could buy perfectly good horchata from the grocery store. Apparently Tim took this as a challenge. He came home from the store and whipped up homemade horchata. After I drank some and agreed with him that yes, truly, his homemade horchata was "a game-changer", he said, "Never talk about store-bought horchata again." Aye aye, Captain.

Remember how Tim says crazy things as he starts to drift off to sleep? His latest was, "Orange sprinkles." Out of nowhere. Or a little while ago we had Tim's aunt Wendy and cousin Cameron over for the Super Bowl. I was making corn bread. Tim passed out on the couch. Suddenly his head jerks up and, with his eyes still closed, says, "Bread smells done." When the three of us laughed he looked around and said, "What? You don't want to overcook it."

After almost 6 years of marriage, he still gets me laughing every day.

Because seriously, my 9-year-old sister blogs more than I do

Two Little Monkeys

Sometimes I love these two so much it kind of hurts, you know?