tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52749822012-02-09T21:07:36.246-08:00Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.comBlogger5441100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-5316775535252262532011-11-06T19:38:00.000-08:002011-11-06T19:38:09.142-08:00

Merritt is sick.Last night when the humidifier and medicine and my Care Bear Stares from the master bedroom weren't working, I headed into his room.  A couple of hours earlier, Erin had been in there. She's the baby whisperer. Literally. I heard absolutely nothing over the monitor once she entered the room. And within three minutes she was back in our bed, explaining that he'd had a bad dream,

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-9908518190115483652011-10-25T12:31:00.000-07:002011-10-25T12:31:52.105-07:00

Wherein our "jagged little pill" embodies mid-90s Alanis Morissette.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-23591645194621880682011-10-13T19:52:00.000-07:002011-10-20T22:37:44.014-07:00

When we tried to explain that you're two and showed you two fingers and then asked if you could say two, you looked at us quizzically and then pointed to your bottom and said, "toot." And there you have it. Just like that, you're toot. Occasionally, you can't decide if you "tooted" or if you "pooted." I know this because you'll let one go and then announce "TOOT," then question yourself and say

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-84698621700574055002011-10-02T11:54:00.000-07:002011-10-02T11:55:03.544-07:00

The smell of humidity that hit me as I stepped off the plane and the familiar "buh-dunk, buh-dunk, buh-dunk" sound of Interstate 20 was almost as comforting as that first hug from my little brother. The Missus (and Chapin) and I flew to Louisiana (by way of Dallas) on a "Babies and Dogs" tour. All the folks we were visiting either had new babies or new (to us) dogs. Most had both. We spent the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-76485287984788179992011-09-13T18:28:00.000-07:002011-09-13T23:25:34.207-07:00

Recently, just the two of us were in the car and we were jamming. Hard. Indigo Girls' "Perfect World" was playing. While it's possible that you've heard the song enough times to actually know the words, it seemed more likely that you were just jabbering along through the chorus. But you were doing it with closed eyes and all your heart. My little almost 23-month old, swaying in the rearview

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-85689788815163996582011-09-07T15:40:00.000-07:002011-09-07T15:40:20.683-07:00

It's the way she clicks the pen against her teeth when we're doing crosswords. It's the way she reaches for my hand when we're walking. It's how cool she looks when typing shortcuts on her Mac. It's the sound she makes after taking a sip of Pepsi. It's her knowing grin from the other end of the couch when a show is getting really good. It's the way her fingers interlock across the back of

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-20007974967208152882011-09-06T11:20:00.000-07:002011-09-06T11:20:19.789-07:00

I realize I'm about five years late to this party. That doesn't change the fact that this is may be one of the best television dramas I've ever had the pleasure of viewing. This is saying a lot; if Veronica Mars (the show) asked me right now, I'd walk down the aisle with it.Here's the deal, though. I don't feel you can accurately portray high school football in the South without at least once

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-538373415651095322011-09-03T15:29:00.000-07:002011-09-03T15:29:26.844-07:00

You can't say "Carl Crawford" without a Southern accent. Hell, Erin can barely say his name at all. When she tries, it sounds like she has marbles in her mouth. Southern marbles. AP Photo Here's what we know about Cah-ull: Carl Crawford wore a petticoat to his cotillion. Carl Crawford takes extra sugar in his sweet tea. Carl Crawford's wedding colors were blush and bashful. Carl Crawford

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-52649068134420027502011-08-23T22:41:00.000-07:002011-08-23T22:53:44.187-07:00

I might tell you about how I made sweet potato hash browns and eggs with spinach and mushrooms for breakfast and then I served that all up with a glass of ice cold milk and eight grape tomatoes (not in the milk). Heck, I might post step-by-step pictures of how I create amazing frittatas. Mind. Blowing. And on second thought, never mind. I might tell you that if we were to play a word

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-75251859440023224812011-08-13T22:40:00.000-07:002011-08-13T22:40:15.508-07:00

Let's just cut to the chase: you use coasters. Intelligently, willfully, purposefully. And that concludes your 22-month letter. Wait. You also do a spot-on impersonation of Cookie Monster. And you often walk around with a hand in your pocket and the other behind your back. And you're starting to understand the concept of pretending. You've applied it to "nigh-nigh" and will now walk up to us,

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-15056276601713999072011-08-08T18:51:00.000-07:002011-08-09T13:53:15.031-07:00

Won a trip to Space Camp and survived on cereal the entire week she was there. Because she earned it and because she could. Started the "Tickle Me Elmo" craze. Ask Rosie O'Donnell. There is proof. Gets super excited when you sauté her an entire bunch of spinach with garlic, put slightly warm garbanzo beans on her salad, or bake her a sweet potato. Sings perfectly (and adorably) all the French

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-9334700513070161222011-07-13T00:01:00.001-07:002011-07-13T00:01:01.719-07:00

If we wanted to sum up your twenty-first month in one event, it would be you wandering out of your room, naked as the day you were born, attempting to put a sock puppet on your penis. You are figuring out life, sir. And it is disturbing. And to add insult to injury, somehow you are already more than half my height. On the plus side, your laundry holds onto the scent of sunscreen and the only

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-47565008997328660602011-06-20T20:07:00.000-07:002011-06-20T20:07:01.001-07:00

Dear Daddy, You put the "fat" in Father's Day. Love, Katie Dear Daddy, You put the "fart" in Father's Day. Love, Katie

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-50950176825400350482011-06-13T00:01:00.000-07:002011-06-13T00:09:26.583-07:00

I love you. I love hearing you repeat “mermaid” when I’m putting your pants on you and I thread both legs through one hole. “Murr-mee.” I love mermaiding you. I love the way you made (egg) hunting the new black for several weeks. Everything went in your basket. You could be found wandering around with eggs and pieces of tape and carpet fibers, all in your basket, because you are that apt a

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-10050514814585290352011-04-27T14:18:00.000-07:002011-04-28T08:46:06.115-07:00

One day last summer I packed a picnic lunch of peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches, the loudest compostable bag of chips ever created, and carrots. Erin and I were in downtown Portland running some errands when she learned that I'd never seen Rent. I knew two things about Rent at that time. 1. It included a catchy tune that broke down some amount of time into minutes. 2. It was about

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-68192333274582569742011-04-17T09:56:00.000-07:002011-04-17T10:14:05.254-07:00

The theme song to Blue's Clues has been playing in my head on loop for the past four days. And I suppose the only reason I haven't been sent to the farm yet is because accompanying it, I can see Merritt putting his sweet little fists under his chin, swaying just a bit, and saying "Eenk. Eenk. Eenk." Because this child has not only embraced, but transformed sign language, "fists under chin" is now

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-68174671201608307582011-04-13T00:01:00.000-07:002011-04-13T00:01:00.518-07:00

At some point I'm supposed to stop counting your age by months. This is not that month. Eighteen months sounds "fewer" harsh than the fact that my baby boy is a whole one plus a half. And every day after today you're closer to two than to one. I guess that means you're also closer to saying "why?" all the time instead of your current go-to: repeating shouting several versions of Momma/Mah/

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-30885633716124517232011-03-29T15:35:00.000-07:002011-03-30T16:37:31.528-07:00

I enjoy basketball well enough. I tried to play in 7th grade, but my desire to travel was something I couldn't escape, even on the court and against the rules. In high school, I quit cheerleading as soon as football season ended because I wanted to be able to watch the basketball games from the stands, not as a captive Stepford robot on the sidelines. I'm so glad I got to watch our own Derrick

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-25688688646494948862011-03-25T14:40:00.000-07:002011-03-25T16:22:41.185-07:00

I've just offered to make Erin a beaded-glasses-holder-necklace-thingy and this can only mean one thing. Two actually. I'm feeling better. And my sense of humor is back. All is well until she takes me up on it. HolycrapIgothitbyaMacktruckanditsuckedsososobad. Merritt spared me his Pink eye, but shared the ear infection. On my first night super early morning in the ER, when asked to rate my pain

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-9606031515436812812011-03-13T23:59:00.000-07:002011-03-14T22:41:10.498-07:00

Seventeen months have passed. This is not unlike turning 23. You can drink, you can vote, but you can't quite rent a car or collect Social Security. You're welcome to laugh and laugh when, years from now, you read this and ask what Social Security is and why it no longer exists. And then you can cry. I'm not trying to make light of your seventeen-month-iversary. It's just there aren't size

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-63658200014164947602011-02-27T22:47:00.000-08:002011-02-27T22:47:51.758-08:00

Not going to lie. Kind of fond of the stripe-earnin' when it comes to parenting. Sure, it means I've had Merritt's vomit in my mouth and his poop under my fingernails. It means I've learned the hard way that Apples & Cinnamon Instant Oatmeal 1. does not an oatmeal bath make and 2. fails to go down the drain with grace and ease. But it also means that when we're at Bob's Red Mill and BOB HIMSELF (

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-91624964244585265782011-02-21T20:23:00.000-08:002011-02-21T20:24:25.639-08:00

I forgot how to do this. I just watched the blinking cursor for five minutes. Well, not the entire five minutes. I dug around for bats in the cave. Then I made fun of Erin for having a folder on the desktop named "Dupes," short for duplicates, of course. Not duplexes. Or duperies. But then I stared at the blinking cursor some more. Truth is, I can't really explain why I haven't come back around

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-81449502905102980222010-12-13T00:01:00.000-08:002010-12-13T09:09:10.980-08:00

Month fourteen was a big one, Moose. Aside from gaining a new nickname, the combination of 'Boose & Munch, you divided and conquered. What, exactly? Everything. And sometimes not in that order. You've endured your first official road trip. And while I've always been a "it's all about the journey, not the destination" kind of girl, a couple of things changed that.  1. A two hour dead stop just

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-76984784221918837942010-12-01T21:20:00.000-08:002010-12-01T21:20:46.792-08:00

Erin has taken to calling me Katie Scarlett. I cannot get enough of this.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-81106459757398050142010-11-22T22:52:00.000-08:002010-11-22T22:52:20.456-08:00

And instead of falling back to sleep I spent the early morning hours thinking about how Dexter is about to have to kill errrrybody he knows or there won't be a next season? And then I made up new lyrics to My Favorite Things as a special way to tell Erin & Merritt that they are my ... favorite things (precipitation on perennial flowers and five o'clock shadow on neonate felines)? Remember when,

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-28629318147303595762010-11-18T14:22:00.000-08:002010-11-18T14:24:46.235-08:00

Erin is sick. Like moan-y sick. Like the kind of sick where a lifetime supply of Pepsi or season tickets to the Red Sox or winning the lottery or getting a massage from Elizabeth Mitchell can't even cheer her up. So she went to the doctor today and it turns out she's got an abscess on her tonsil. Please, spare yourself and don't Google Image search peritonsillar abscesses. (Abscessi?) Had I not

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-50228290380005184262010-11-13T00:01:00.000-08:002010-11-13T07:40:14.024-08:00

Banner month, 'Boose. BAN. NER. You are a fool for tampons. If given the option of scoring a golden ticket, a pony, or a wrapped tampon, you'll pick the tampon every time. Ah, the perks and perils of living with two mom-ladies. One day last week after dumping an entire box of Regulars onto the bathroom floor, you imposed yourself on Mom's shower (as you are wont to do). She attempted distraction

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-52149634671796048392010-11-09T23:44:00.000-08:002010-11-09T23:49:42.274-08:00

Many moons ago, operating under severe sleep deprivation amidst the throes of potty training a puppy, I recall being mystified in the basement in the middle of the night when I couldn't figure out how to turn off the overhead light. In that moment, it seemed the only logical way to "turn on the dark" was to unscrew the lightbulb, though an oven mitt eluded me. That is correct. I had the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-49659937437881978162010-11-01T23:39:00.000-07:002010-11-01T23:50:10.468-07:00

Okay, fine. We take our phones to the bathroom with us. Everywhere, really. It's just that the water closet is no exception. And we text. Even when we can hear each other. See each other. Even when we're carrying on a regular conversation with our mouths. Even when we're pooping. Especially when we're pooping. Nature called the other day. I answered. And Erin texted. Her: Welcome to the toilet.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-53622248451001480152010-10-22T19:45:00.000-07:002010-10-22T21:41:27.877-07:00

Not that I intend to jinx it, but the seventh inning stretch of a game that may result in the Yankees not getting their way (for once) has just concluded. Miss Texas sang God Bless America with marbles in her mouth? Veneers? Veneers made of marbles? And when Nolan Ryan clapped and Merritt saw it, he joined right in. Merrily clapping. But you should know he spent his stretch taking steps, two

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-49229387216910040612010-10-19T11:18:00.000-07:002010-10-19T11:18:03.610-07:00

This one time, after an incredible set, I punched Maria Bamford in the arm and told her she "really genocided 'em [tonight]." It should not be, but it is, one of my proudest moments.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-13275425161264371742010-10-13T00:01:00.000-07:002010-10-22T21:42:33.826-07:00

A year and a day ago, while I was hospitalized for observation, my doctor phoned and said something I'll never forget: "This is going to end up being the worst headache of your life." She was referring to a real headache. Not you. I think ... So even though there was still a month until you were due, and you were perfectly content to remain a Kung Fu Fetus in your uterine dojo, the doctor

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-65606966658428766652010-10-06T15:31:00.000-07:002010-10-06T15:33:54.474-07:00

I may or may not dabble in the coaching of gymnastics. The same way I may or may not dabble in quantum physics. Wavefunction: represent. You just never know with me. Two nights ago I may have been demonstrating a round-off to a flatback when I heard/felt a snap that is apparently indicative of one's hamstring being ripped from the back of one's knee. A soundtrack/sensation that hasn't left me

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-20820136973480638882010-09-28T20:49:00.000-07:002010-09-28T22:32:31.328-07:00

Took the boy to the zoo today. Caged animals aplenty. Posed for a family photo in front of some massive elephant poop.Conquered fears: Braved. The. Bats. (her), ogled some sort of python-water-snake-situation (me), was seen in public with us (him).Shuddered when we saw a squirrel running.  Free.  How dare he. Used the word "shuddered" too soon. Uh, witnessed some Mandrills. Man. Drills. Named

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-54620265810356980192010-09-26T19:48:00.000-07:002010-09-26T19:48:19.410-07:00

"Merritt, it's the constant noise that's the real problem ... in case you were wondering what the real problem is." Erin just broke it down for The Dude.  Our attempts at reasoning with him are ineffective, and not because he's eleven months old. For four days he's maintained an average temperature of 102˚(for all you interested mathematicians, that's a range of 98 - 106). And made constant

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-68479773591073776002010-09-21T20:30:00.000-07:002010-09-21T20:47:29.359-07:00

I'm thinking lunch options aloud. Leftover barley soup? Rice and pork loin? Turkey sandwich? Bread with olive oil? So I create a sound effect that I think best expresses "mind-blowing" as it relates to my options. Cue suicide joke by Erin. The sound effect did sort of sound like a .22 being fired ... "just a couple of acres away." She tells me I can't measure distance in acres.   I say "I

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-5141850159800498712010-09-20T23:21:00.000-07:002010-09-20T23:21:26.555-07:00

We have decided we would like Sue Sylvester to come to our house... and yell at us. Just flat-out demean the shit out of us. Please.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-18484373245217410442010-09-16T23:27:00.000-07:002010-09-16T23:27:47.492-07:00

Who has two thumbs, is "morally obligated to watch [and write about] every second of this final season," and found herself getting a mention on Variety today? Maybe I shouldn't have led with the two thumbs line, since it's not me. It's my girl.  And I'm so so so proud. To clarify: Erin has two thumbs.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-5581679101618057922010-09-15T22:12:00.000-07:002010-09-15T22:12:34.901-07:00

A couple of months ago, Erin and I were in her car stopped at a light in downtown Portland when a woman stumbled across the crosswalk and up to the driver's side window and treated us to a loose serenade of "California Girls" before directing us to some (possibly made-up) Sand Castle Festival at Pioneer Square where she explained we could probably find some husbands.  Homegirl had three 

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-55831137927061799952010-09-13T08:16:00.000-07:002010-09-18T14:44:38.066-07:00

Here's the deal: you are old. Okay. Old is a relative term since your other mom and I spent last night watching our debate and cheerleading VHS TAPES ON A VCR. Merritt, these were videos from our junior year of high school. Literally half our lifetimes ago. But you're still old. Eleven months exactly. And the best you've ever been. Can I take a minute (or the rest of my life) to tell you

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-54696567816541351522010-09-11T20:42:00.001-07:002010-09-13T10:41:11.253-07:00

More Ovaltine, please.Except tonight the Ovaltine has been replaced with Rum.And a drinking game has been invented.We are watching Gilmore Girls. Any pop culture or literary reference warrants a sip (gulp).Lorelai just mentioned General Hospital. I was down to ice, so Erin had to fix me another. This morning Erin said, "I distinctly remember inappropriately kissing my dad when I was, like,

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-19029058626256624272010-08-29T11:18:00.000-07:002010-08-29T18:51:19.943-07:00

Sort of like Santa, only creepier.Flesh, I might add, on which one is not supposed to chew. It's rude. Just wash it back with some intoxicating blood and let the dissolving begin. Enjoy, seven-year-olds! If the announcements didn't drag on, I could make it to the end of mass with the tiniest bit of soggy savior still on my tongue.Thanks, Catholicism.Stumbled upon this picture from my First

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-25749206142203977062010-08-26T22:01:00.000-07:002010-08-26T22:45:06.834-07:00

He can climb anything. His favorite toy is the fireplace. If you turn your back for even a second he'll swim laps in the damn toilet. No lamp is safe in his presence.He can unshelve a library worth of books with the finesse and precision of a tornado."No" is just a word that elicits a smile. Another one, that is.Spray bottles: not just for unruly pets anymore.And then he does this ...That.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-2951416460697086992010-08-19T17:48:00.000-07:002010-08-19T23:11:11.994-07:00

After mentioning I should title this post My Truth and then commenting how gay that sounded, I was warned, "You're probably bound to write some gay things in there. So just be prepared for that."Suppose I can't help it.I've been gone for a while. Longer than the span between the last couple of posts indicates. In my absence, I haven't been walking in the park or having a day at the beach. No,

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-81903087219211595442010-07-27T02:11:00.000-07:002010-07-27T07:16:21.724-07:00

Interrupting this self-imposed hiatus to share that while folding laundry in a fit of awesome, it was discovered that I can fit into a pair of 6 - 9 month sweatpants. It's not necessarily pretty. And certainly not public-worthy. But WHAT? Un.believable.Also, hilarious.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-3376826833245802512010-06-25T20:48:00.001-07:002010-06-25T21:20:51.729-07:00

The Dude suffered his first noggin injury.And pictures don't do it justice.And our favorite Interventional Cardiologist/Vascular Surgeon offered (in her adorable Polish accent), "That's going to look like shit tomorrow," but no other expert advice since Merritt didn't pull a bedside table down on his heart.And we're going to have to get rid of all furniture that can't be bolted to the floor. And

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-37802467832201143082010-06-13T12:23:00.000-07:002010-09-19T13:41:42.692-07:00

We should have named you Destructo. Love, Momma Kidding. Sort of. At eight months you are a biting, hair pulling, miniature Gojira. Your favorite magic trick is the classic "whip off." You know, the one where you snatch a table cloth so fast that dishes and glasses full of wine and a flower vase remain unmoved on the table. Except in your version, you yank a table runner and then a lamp falls

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-34794813187144530772010-06-08T20:30:00.000-07:002010-06-08T20:50:38.308-07:00

Text conversation between the Emergency Husband and I this morning.Him: What's the scoop?Me: Yamming.Him: Making yams?Me: No. Like yabbing. Only yamming. "Yab, yab, yab, yab. And Ohppercut. Ohppercut. Ohppercut." (Brilliance from Adam Carolla's totally quotable movie, "The Hammer.")Him: Okay. Y'all are either jamming or boxing. Lost in translation.Me: Jamming. Yeez.I birthed the best

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-3871865869956972662010-06-07T17:05:00.001-07:002010-06-07T17:10:08.586-07:00

Got Merritt Badge a harmonica today.Suddenly, everything about the world got a little brighter.A little lighter.A little better.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-41017285986512141552010-06-05T13:09:00.000-07:002010-06-07T17:10:49.136-07:00

I could write this post specifically to Whit, as she's historically been the most affected by this behavior. But anyone who has been in my presence knows I'm prone. I's got me a penchant. Or used to.So, everyone, prepare to be mind-boggled:While processing the "JoAarrdoann" visit, it occurred to me that I didn't dry hump a single soul on the entire trip. Not the air. Not a stranger that couldn't

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-41456818406539419292010-06-03T18:37:00.000-07:002010-06-03T21:27:40.489-07:00

Merritt Scot has a fascination with the boom box in his room. Randomly throughout the day he'll fire up his harp music and just stand there and absorb it while gnawing on the antenna and pushing down on the lid of the stereo, forcing a remix.Until today, I appreciated his attempts at meditating.That yelp there at the end? It's apparently the sound I make when young Not-Buddha sinks all four of

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-60352227787280630742010-06-01T17:40:00.000-07:002010-06-02T18:52:02.640-07:00

Edited to add: Another Perspective.After two weeks of rain, and making it rain, and rain on my face, I required the uplifting visit of the Marshall-Harris Super Duo (© Irina Schaffer), though in Kate nomenclature, they go by: Too bad their limo driver fell asleep before he could chauffeur them.(And, yes, Henry Porter. I said nomenclature just for you.) True to Jordan Talking Point Style,

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-31487109512509826692010-05-29T07:27:00.000-07:002010-05-29T07:31:26.619-07:00

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-85345990232747009742010-05-22T10:14:00.000-07:002010-05-22T10:16:39.387-07:00

I recently reconnected with a friend from third grade. REconnected is actually the wrong word since she doesn't remember me, a fact that I will take great joy in reminding her about for ... eternity. She suffers from self-diagnosed early-onset Alzheimer's. Gawd love her; she'll be all of thirty next month.I'll be thirty next week.If you know me, you know it's no secret that I remember what you

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-54932420604258174782010-05-18T13:30:00.000-07:002010-05-18T13:35:05.512-07:00

I just found carpet fuzz in Merritt's diaper.Digested carpet fuzz.So I guess we can check that developmental milestone off.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-8618133133126056242010-05-13T00:01:00.000-07:002010-09-19T13:42:48.597-07:00

Usually I begin composing these letters to you just as soon as I finish the one before it. I've previously had the kind of time on my hands where I can scribble something about you in a moleskine here and there and have a bounty come time to sit down and write. Not this month, busy boy. The bounty is there; the time is not.A couple of weeks ago, in a matter of fifteen seconds, you destroyed the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-16835694534905322472010-05-05T15:02:00.000-07:002010-05-05T15:02:36.600-07:00

Matt is trying to learn German.The part of Matt's brain that is capable of learning German stopped developing around the age of thirteen.He starts giggling as he enters sentences for translation, and then, in a George W. Bush Spanish Accent (where bean is pronounced free-joe-lay), attempts to speak German.Because this is a family-friendly blog (the sort of family-friendly where I describe

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-10820040430613959002010-05-05T04:49:00.000-07:002010-05-05T08:39:19.005-07:00

Actually, the party is in my basement and it's 4:50am PST; if you're awake, come on down. Drinks are on the house. Or Merritt's buying. Or whatever sounds cool in this instant.We've been at it for over an hour now. Pre-partied twice: midnight and two.Last night Merritt slept through the night for the first time since January. We "ferberized" him in that we let him cry it out for 47 minutes (

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-42432723401285327572010-04-23T23:14:00.000-07:002010-04-23T23:57:18.996-07:00

Pushing a stroller through a 5k is not unlike driving the Bluth family stair truck.HOP-ONs. But when the event isn't actually a race, but a part of the International Discovery Walk Festival, which, when deciphered, actually spells out Old Folks Travel From Around The World To Perambulate Short Distances In Foreign Cities (give or take a few letters), the hop-ons don't actually get on the stroller

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-12010556424244280562010-04-14T10:06:00.000-07:002010-04-14T11:10:27.966-07:00

Resourceful.Occasionally panicked.And a large percentage of the time, not-sound.And a small percentage of the time, sound. Merritt just did this out of his mouth:A quick visual scan confirmed there was nothing within reach to stop the flow or clean it up.So I ripped off my pants.The end.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-87763530384602693282010-04-13T00:01:00.000-07:002010-09-19T13:43:11.229-07:00

We've been parents for six months and you've survived. Thrived, even. So I suppose we'd get all esses on our parenting report card. I want you to learn this lesson now; it will make that one day in first grade less painful. What day? The day when you bring home a report card with all esses. And you ask me what "S" means and I tell you "satisfactory." And you ask me what "satisfactory" means and I

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-40327358758198550352010-04-04T11:14:00.000-07:002010-04-04T21:23:00.137-07:00

To the tune of the Green Acres theme song, I'm butchering Oklahoma! Oklahoma! Where the wind ... doth blow? Oklahoma ... sometimes gets snow?Matt interrupts and in perfect pitch belts out "Oklahoma! Where the wind comes sweepin' down the plain!" and then states that EVERYONE knows those lyrics.Listen here Mr. Fancy Pants Broadway, I don't know them and I'm a genius.Then he admits that the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-35015700029805609362010-03-29T08:56:00.000-07:002010-04-01T21:29:40.146-07:00

Ponderings from the middle of the night when I can't fall back asleep:If I could only have one person read me bedtime stories for the rest of my life it would have to be Garrison Keillor. Or Dick Van Dyke as a chimney sweeper. Or my little brother.I'm going to invent a chair in which I can nurse/sleep. It will recline. I shall call it "recliner."Are artichokes hunted and killed for just their

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-30124492756260035962010-03-17T10:14:00.001-07:002010-03-17T10:22:03.065-07:00

Where the gold at?

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-57722384874575270302010-03-13T00:01:00.000-08:002010-09-19T13:43:36.950-07:00

A few months ago your daddy showed you how to dramatically approach a book for reading. Pick it up, remove any dust that may be on it with an earnest blow, read the title in a British accent, then commence with reading. You eat this up. I can only imagine how your inaugural "reading aloud in class" will go down. Your current favorite book is Ounce, Dice, Trice by Alastair Reid. Okay, fine. It's

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-6647777879027137142010-03-04T12:46:00.001-08:002010-03-04T13:34:11.568-08:00

We don't have cable. We read a lot of books. We do a lot of outside. But we've got a $15 entertainment budget each month that goes towards Netflix®. I know. How do we afford this rock and roll lifestyle?Our guilty pleasure is TV on DVD. Why guilty? Because our governor is broken when it comes to watching just one episode. We're good if we stop at just one disc. Just one series.Recently we

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-83923452436819645292010-03-03T13:22:00.000-08:002010-03-04T09:23:36.836-08:00

I suppose the surprise party for Mattrick's 30th can be considered a success. Upon leaving, he stated he was going to start an IV on himself when we got home. You know, a prophylactic measure for the next morning. I am of the opinion that a do-it-yourself saline drip is the gateway drug to retardation. Luckily, he was snoring before he got the chance to collapse any veins. 30 is the new "

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-91325461614613560312010-02-25T15:52:00.001-08:002010-02-25T15:55:27.537-08:00

but last night when I asked Matt what he wanted to drink with supper and he said water, we both heard Merritt repeat, "agua."Como se dice 'prodigy' en Español?

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-53432104993937714452010-02-13T00:01:00.000-08:002010-09-19T13:43:58.979-07:00

Today you are four months old. Coincidentally (and because you're dying to know), you were conceived exactly one year ago today, Mister-Come-Early-Pants. Oh, Lawd, what an awful nickname that could prove to be. Your father and I are both more than a little embarrassed that you ... became ... so near to the commercially hyped Valentine's holiday. I made your Daddy a yellow cake with chocolate

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-77610070085638800322010-02-12T23:52:00.000-08:002010-02-13T00:03:08.617-08:00

"It's going to be Wayne Gretzky slap shooting a flaming puck.""Did you know that Canadians say 'A to Zed' instead of 'A to Z'?""Check out this opera singer's hair. Man, Canadians know how to party.""Canadians are in better shape than Americans so they can dance on the sidelines forever.""I TOLD YOU IT WOULD BE GRETZKY."

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-47743236440381963282010-02-07T21:31:00.000-08:002010-02-07T21:42:56.983-08:00

The day I got home from the hospital I requested several pairs of "huge panties I can wreck." At less than a buck a pair and two sizes larger than I usually wear, I was impressed with what I was provided. Thanks, Andean Earth Mother.But. We're out a handful of months now. And I'm down to the last pair. Nude, size 86. I'm embarrassed by them, but they're just so dang comfortable.Today when

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-33333510688899201002010-01-31T12:16:00.002-08:002010-01-31T12:26:50.943-08:00

And it tells you. And it off-gasses. And it procrastinates/charms when it comes to bedtime.(click here if the video doesn't work)But mostly it just confirms that IT was the best thing we ever made or did or loved.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-21248502507061265532010-01-13T00:01:00.000-08:002010-09-19T13:44:27.698-07:00

This is your 90 day review. Three months, little dude. Where did they go? And what have we learned? The head-butt is your weapon of choice, followed by the talon-death-grip-falcon-claw-twist. What you don't realize is that your thousand watt grin is more deadly than those two combined. You flash that grin blithely, all over the place. I go weak in the teeth and the elbows and the knees every

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-17248224377393943762009-12-30T11:53:00.000-08:002009-12-30T15:41:00.900-08:00

I had a dream last night that Merritt, age five, locked himself in the bathroom and affixed one of those stick-on tattoos to his little, tiny erect penis. You know - the kind of tattoo that might be impossible to remove from a little, tiny flacid penis.I'm wondering if the dream wasn't so much a dream as a newfound ability to see the future.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-61857952200332692742009-12-27T07:58:00.000-08:002009-12-27T10:57:52.736-08:00

At the eleven minute mark, it was so gut-wrenching that Matt and I were both sobbing into our bowls of red beans and rice.So terrible that we actually had to pause the movie to desperately try and compose ourselves. Which Didn't Work.So disturbing that Matt actually cursed Walt Disney in the grave yelling, "WHAT THE HELL KIND OF SHIT IS THIS, DISNEY?"At the thirty-two minute mark we were still

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-70915410292195226082009-12-25T08:18:00.000-08:002009-12-25T08:31:46.730-08:00

Got the Emergency Husband an iPhone.He won't put it down.He's had the thing less than 24 hours and he's taken three poops with it (he loves being connected while having excellent colon health). He can, at a second's notice, tell you where you are longitudinally or metaphysically or acrobatically. There are apps for that.This morning he downloads an application called "X-Ray Bikini." It claims

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-54514593185811530412009-12-23T19:51:00.000-08:002009-12-23T19:54:40.917-08:00

I've decided that babies invented bulimia.Also, I've learned that not only should Merritt have 4 changes of clothes in the diaper bag ... I should, too ... lest I leave a German restaurant wearing NOTHING beneath my coat.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-67223790447986094502009-12-22T09:00:00.000-08:002009-12-22T14:35:12.100-08:00

Or ... Why My Master Bedroom Needs Windshield Wipers.(technology fail. click here.)Merritt Scot Nipper: King of the Threes.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-38496878498631325302009-12-13T08:47:00.000-08:002009-12-13T08:51:57.521-08:00

Sometimes I call Merritt "Sweet Pea."Sometimes I call him "Sweetness."This morning I called him "Sweet Peaness."Then things got weird.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-88221043843534590992009-12-09T18:28:00.000-08:002009-12-09T19:01:45.727-08:00

Several years after it was sold into syndication, and several years after I was too old to be watching it, I watched my first episode of Dawson's Creek. And then I watched EVERY episode of Dawson's Creek. And for too many months after that, I began every conversation, every sentence, EVERY THOUGHT with "this is like that one time on Dawson's Creek when ..." Sigh, Pacey Witter, sigh.There was

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-41451173700203163602009-12-01T17:13:00.000-08:002009-12-01T17:27:05.094-08:00

Guess who has two thumbs and slept from 9:14 last night to 6:20 this morning? THIS GUY!(more pictures here)

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-57156517111426312762009-11-22T16:12:00.000-08:002009-11-22T16:45:41.208-08:00

Lightening struck my modem?Or God hates blogging? (I know He hates panty lines.)But really. Lightening struck my modem. And having been without internet for the last four days has been sort of like trying to walk without a pinky toe. Ever tried?Except, the life force which fell from "within" me (my little brother noticed Birthing From Within on my bookshelf and wonders if it's possible to

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-47033128123873031172009-11-15T21:35:00.000-08:002009-11-15T22:34:25.086-08:00

I can tell you exactly what I was thinking when I ordered Amy Wilson Sanger's* World Snacks: Let's Nosh book. "Sweet! A book for Merritt about junk food."Because in my mind, the word nosh only rolls out of the mouths of the high - usually following the word duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude.Duuuuuuuuuuuuuuude, let's nosh.I was prepared for a book about Doritos and fluffer-nutter sandwiches and gummy bears and

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-80246176041329744342009-11-13T18:04:00.000-08:002009-11-13T18:09:37.599-08:00

Have I mentioned how ... about a month ago ... a grenade went off in my lady nook?A totally worth it grenade.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-17374339345505155592009-11-09T21:10:00.001-08:002009-11-09T21:41:50.024-08:00

-Hudson and his doting Daddy just took their regular shower together. Except this wasn't a regular shower. This one involved ziplock bags (couldn't find gloves). And the expressing of anal glands (just Hud's ... I think). And, at its conclusion, Hudson running like a cheetah from the front to the back and the back to the front of the house several times over. Matt shows up in a towel and asks

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-64894842785012915502009-11-07T18:57:00.000-08:002009-11-07T19:31:36.335-08:00

(click image to see if you'd pass muster in this house) Close up of the only one earning stars:

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-88484311168708127262009-11-04T20:09:00.000-08:002009-11-04T20:11:38.685-08:00

Dozed off while sitting on the couch with the boy in my arms.Drooled all over his head.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-10161732072892212902009-11-03T09:43:00.000-08:002009-11-09T20:58:35.516-08:00

Devin nailed it when describing the major downstairs renovations our boy-children are capable of ... leaving vaginas something akin to Harry Potter's forehead.So I call my father (the previously mentioned NSFW photographer) to discuss/get the scoop on my stitches since he witnessed the debacle wherein my junk was turned to hamburger meat, I wasn't completely numbed, and the doctor yanked the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-41005258511053573172009-11-02T06:53:00.000-08:002009-11-02T07:26:43.977-08:00

Totally have the Subway $5 Footlong jingle wedged in my brain.It was there all night.'Bout to have to kill somebody.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-49991051770793211712009-10-31T08:53:00.000-07:002009-10-31T10:07:47.814-07:00

We considered dressing him up as my father, his mirror image, but weren't sure how he'd take to the facial hair. Or that his brain has the current capacity to hold all world knowledge on wasps, grass, wine, and HDR photography.I've always wanted a baby banana slug, but am willing to wait until he can walk to truly pull that one off. The slime trail is a crucial part of that costume.So what will

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-80234351022945194332009-10-29T20:40:00.000-07:002009-10-30T09:09:03.505-07:00

Put my panties on inside out. Couldn't be bothered to correct this.Cleaned 16 gallons of dog vomit. Nursed sick dog all day.Different-kind-of-nursed (adorable) bottomless pit all day.Did both simultaneously.Downstairs business = broken.Door #1: Peeing blood and fire. Waiting for antibiotics to work.Door #2: 17 stitches.Door #3: Loretta invited all her friends to celebrate when she realized I was

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-63910943798083475612009-10-25T21:16:00.000-07:002009-10-25T21:32:09.893-07:00

Around the halfway point of a feeding, I find myself with the thirst of a million thirsts (and no hands) so Matt fetches a drink and administers it. Usually with a straw.Tonight he grabbed a mason jar of Cranberry juice. No straw. Our timing was off. And I swear we either cracked, chipped, or lost my front tooth. To be determined when I can feel my mouth again.But can I just say that I'm

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-56151233825544155972009-10-24T05:33:00.000-07:002009-10-24T06:00:24.201-07:00

Direct quote from my sister ... "You gave birth to our father." I've been trying to tell people this. Also. TRY BREASTFEEDING HIM.Over a romantic hospital cafeteria lunch yesterday, Matt and I secured our position as parents. Me: Hey, hey, hey. Who am I? (make a face where I turn my mouth into a very taut anus and squint my eyes)Him: Ooooh! You're Merritt! Wait, wait, wait. Who am I? (

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-46658853342120655312009-10-23T15:04:00.001-07:002009-10-23T15:07:32.023-07:00

Straight pulled a The Green Mile on my boy.John Coffey-ed his hiney.TOOK IT BACK.He's rounded a corner!Eating!Growing!Making lattes and espressos!We've got us a YES attitude today.And it's working.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-47635270243956475492009-10-23T04:16:00.000-07:002010-04-05T14:25:18.772-07:00

This updating business is far more difficult than I thought. Much like having a baby. In the NICU. Twice.Goal? 1. Give update. 2. Use all of his nicknames within the context. Thursday, my most favorite day of the week, was a rough one for Master Merritt. Things were looking good in the morning after a great night with successful feedings, but PooPoo Broussard took a turn for the worst

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-24020784585285174412009-10-22T02:22:00.000-07:002009-10-23T04:16:18.162-07:00

For all the blogs I follow about sick babies and amazing single dads and horrific life circumstances - I never would have imagined that my blog would serve a similar purpose.But this is a great medium to be able to share updates with what I once thought were maybe only 3 readers. The love and support we're feeling now indicate there might be just a few more ...So without further ado, I begin the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-32456572861780235352009-10-17T07:34:00.000-07:002009-10-20T20:03:27.833-07:00

Last Monday my little brother sent an email including Brian Andreas' "Invention" and this note: Thank y'all for changing the world.Less than a month!Then a couple weeks and I get to meet your invention.Love y'all.Within an hour of receiving this bawl-producing message, I was hospitalized.Within 12 hours I was induced.Within 36 I birthed the most incredible invention. The (little) Dude.Meet

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-35648094502753668232009-10-09T20:00:00.000-07:002009-10-09T20:02:43.474-07:00

Just another reason why ILove. Living. Here.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-70206525060013829572009-10-08T17:35:00.000-07:002009-10-08T18:50:19.639-07:00

It's just that if I have him on or before Halloween, it might be hard to resist the urge to stick cinnamon rolls to the sides of his head and dress him up like Princess Leia.And I can be Jabba.And Matt? He can be Luke Skywalker since I already sense that he and ol' Leia here are twins.

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5274982.post-80299789656812804932009-10-05T19:34:00.000-07:002009-10-06T07:36:50.966-07:00

Snow has started falling (and melting) BUT FALLING! on Hood again ... signifying the beginnings of our favorite season. Ski.Last year was kind of a bust.It started with this, which was followed by a month in a moon boot. And while I tried to convince everyone otherwise (myself included), there was no denying that a moon boot and a ski boot really aren't the same thing - so I was off the

Katiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15926873387953826583noreply@blogger.com3