Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Happy Halloween

My favorite holiday, although Christmas and the Yuletide season may take over as I watch Sage grow and get excited about all of the jolly fat man stuff.

Samhain is the traditional name of what is now the candyfest of Halloween. A day to remember those that have passed before us and to pay our respect. The night of the year when the veil between our earthly realm and the spirit world is thinnest.

All I am going to have time for tonight is family gathering for dinner and cake and Halloweenesque goodies. I'll have pictures tomorrow. Sage is going to be plopped into a pumpkin costume for as long as she can stand it. At least long enough for me to get some pictures! Kaylie is going to be an angel. It seems to be a recurring theme and I am hoping that the concept starts to rub off on her so that she doesn't get in trouble in school anymore!

Cody thinks he's jumping out of bushes to scare little kids. Not happening. I guess he'll be disappointed about that one, but oh well.

Now, I'm off to go home and carve pumpkins with the kids, feast on chicken alfredo and goodies, then send them off to roam the neighborhood while I hand out candy to the ghouls and try to get Sage to bed during it all! Yay, me ... supermama, I'm not! I may lock my door and turn off the lights early. :o)

Friday, October 27, 2006

Happy Birthday PopPop

A day late ... yesterday was Dad's birthday. When I called to speak to him, he hinted around that he and Mom would be home and if I had anything I needed to do that evening, I was welcome to drop Sage off and they could "watch" her for me. Funny, eh? I told him that if he wanted to see his granddaughter on his birthday, all he had to do was say so. And he did. So we went down last night. Looks like they had fun! Monkey got a bit of an attitude shortly before we went home because her MawMaw was a meanie last night. She wouldn't let her eat an emory board, and let's just say ... IT. BROKE. HER. HEART. Sob city! You would have thought her every happiness hung on the chewing of that little scrap of sandpapered wood.

My brother lives and works on a his wife's family farm. It's a dairy farm mostly, but they grow corn and bale hay and straw. Maybe a few other things. I've asked for straw ... and corn stalks. I have this really elaborate set up in my mind to take pictures of Sage for Halloween tomorrow. It's supposed to fucking rain! Gah! It's actually supposed to rain this afternoon, into tomorrow. That's a BIG problem because my elaborate little scenario involves all of the leaves that I have very impatiently been waiting to have on the ground under my maple tree. FOR THREE WEEKS! Bastard weather god ... who is it that sends down the rain? I think it's Zeus. The philandering whoremonger. I've got some choice words for him right about now! I can't make my precious little bundle sit in wet leaves. And I won't be home in time to bag them up in all of their crispy dry goodness.

On the toffusus front ... number five has finally managed to push a point of it's pearly whiteness through her gums. Between those damned teeth, her ear infection and that blasted cough that her germ ridden, infectious mama gave her ... sleep was a not on the agenda last night. She would doze off to sleep and wake up either fussing or outright screaming like a banshee quite often and the only way to soothe her was to pick her up and bounce her. Can we say tired? Good. 'Cause I am. I told my mother, the other day, that I have resigned myself to never getting enough sleep again. Ever. I'm convinced that she will never sleep through the night again, after teasing me with 3 months of blissful seven hours stretches without waking. Well, at least not until she is well into her teens, at which point I will stand sentry outside her bedroom window to make sure that she isn't sneaking out. See what I mean? No sleep for me. Ever again. I will live the rest of my days in the limbo of catnaps and sleepy alertness.

So, an enjoyable evening was had by all yesterday evening and Sage got to play with her PopPop, who I am convinced is going to be her very best friend when she enters into toddlerhood. Which is how it should be. My PopPop was my best friend in the whole world and I thought he walked on water. There wasn't a thing he couldn't fix, until my windup music box from "It's a Small World" at Disney World broke. I've always secretly longed to have another one of those but I know I will never find it. And I don't want a new one. I want the old school windup variety that did not need $10 worth of batteries to operate for 2 hours. I picture Sage and my father being like my PopPop and I were. Lazy afternoons fishing. He was self-employed, so I got to go on calls with him often. Nazi-mama that I am, if Sage goes to work with her PopPop, it will likely be with earplugs inserted to protect her hearing from that loud-ass truck ... but I can see her tagging along. She and Dad remind me of Forrest and Jenny ... they go together like peas and carrots.

Thursday, October 26, 2006


Because I have no energy to do anything else!

Sickness ... ugh.

I'm sick ... and Sage is sick with an ear infection ... and I'm still trying to transfer everything from the other journal. I hate being sick. HATE. IT.

So you get this. Try it. Come back and let me know what you are.

Your Element is Fire

Your power color: red

Your energy: hot

Your season: spring

Like a fire, you are full of power and light.
A born leader, you easily draw people toward you.
You are full of courage and usually up for anything dangerous.
You have a huge ego and love to be the center of attention.

By the way, they should have some kind of note to Leos ... no need to take this test, you already know what you are! And I do NOT want to be the center of attention.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Looking For a New Journal Home ...

As much as I like what I have been able to do here at Live Journal, I am looking for a new home for my blog. One that I can transfer this one too ... and build upon. One that allows me to do everything I want without silly restrictions. One that doesn't consider the photo of a breastfeeding mother to be pornography and bans people who inadvertently thought that it wasn't.

What the fuck? While I'm not one to post a photo of myself breastfeeding ... because my shit went on strike after my uterus tried to kill me and I couldn't breastfeed ... I think that a woman who wants to share a photo of such should be allowed to. AND ... well, I want to specialize in maternity and infant portraiture. How many breastfeeding shots do you think I'm going to be taking? While I plan on having a domain for my photography business once it's up and running, I pay Live Journal to blog here. I should be able to post a picture of a suckling babe if I want to.

I am trying to work out the look at one host, but I'm having difficulties and have all but given up on them. We'll see. Stay tuned for the info on the move. I'll post a link and let you know when the other blog is up and running.

test of new page

On to bigger and better things in the blogosphere! I'm hoping to be able to move the content from my Live Journal site to here, but I'm not sure if it is possible or how to go about it. I guess I can leave it up and post a link from there to here.

This is one of the last pictures that I posted over at Tammy's Meanderings and think it's just too adorable to not include in the beginning of this one. If that is what this is ... the beginning.

I need to work on the look and feel on the journal and try to get my colors back. This will be an experiment for the next week or so until I figure things out and decide if I want to permanently move things here or not.

Sage has been into everything the last few days and can now remove herself from her walker whenever she feels like it. I had to move it to its' highest setting and that seems to have detered her a bit, but she still tries to get out after about ten minutes of cruising around the house. She is also making more frequent attempts to walk. She moves from one piece of furniture to the other with no problem if they are within a couple of feet of each other. The next few weeks should bring about quite the flurry of activity.

She also now says "Mama" with gusto and doesn't hesitate to say it when trying to get my attention or if she is heading toward me. Yay me. Finally. After months of feeling white hot jealousy toward Dink because she said "DaDa" first.

I'll also be trying out some ads from BlogHer to see if they lead to anything. I don't know why ... but I thought I would give it a try.

Friday, October 13, 2006


That is the new nickname that I have come up with for Sage. She is starting to mimic every little thing she sees me do and it is adorable. She learns so fast! She picked up the hand clapping for patty-cake pretty fast and that was months ago. Shortly after, at the end, she would throw her hands up in the air when you said "toss 'em up high." In the last week, she has also started to try to roll her hands around each other when you say "roll 'em up" and it is a sort of hand slapping thing that she goes crazy with. She's so excited about that part, that she starts in the second line and continues to the end, where she will promptly start clapping again to let you know that you are NOT finished with the chanting of patty-cake. She will also clap if you say "yay."

Another thing she has picked up over the last couple of weeks and continues to do is blowing raspberries. She learned this several months ago, did it for a week and stopped. Like, HA! You like when I do that so I'm going to not do it anymore. HA HA! And HA! Now she will do this on her own and when prompted, spraying baby spit to the four winds and making a general mess of things. Also, this is a good game to play while eating dinner so that her mommy can wear all sorts of non-tasty pureed foods. This is not a good thing and I need to get her to stop. Sweet potatoes in the eye ... it hurts. Stings like a mother! But how do you get her to stop when your first response to the raspberry spitting of food is to laugh at her adorable, cherub-like face? Especially when followed by a very animated response from mommy that usually includes jumping up mumbling, "For the love of ... OW. Jeebus that hurts." All while baby is laughing like a loon because look at mommy, she's funny! Yeah. She's not going to stop, is she?

So ... disciplining Sage while laughing or making her laugh ... not gonna work so good. I should have known I wouldn't be any good at this part of motherhood since I always laughed at my sister whenever Kayla did something completely inappropriate but adorable at the same time. Like when she was four and was on the floor coloring. Judy and I were watching television and we hear "damn it." Of course, Judy promptly scolded her for it and said "Kayla Michelle, good little girls do NOT say that word." Me? I'm sitting there trying to stifle a giggle. Kayla's response ... holds up a broken crayon and says "they do when they break their crayons!" Judy was still able to maintain her composure and let her know that it is still inappropriate for a little girl to say such things. Me? I was laughing hysterically running up the stairs before my sister kicked my ass for inadvertently encouraging the child to say "damn it" whenever she wanted to make someone laugh.

Sage is also waving good-bye now. Whenever she wants. She won't always wave if you wave to her, but if say "bye" and wave, 99% of the time, she'll wave back. And remember when we were kids, the cowboys and indians that we all had to play? And if you were the indian, which I always was, you would smack yourself in the mouth until your lip swelled up while making a noise? She does that. But sometimes she forgets to make the noise so she's just smacking herself in the mouth. I am trying to have this lead into throwing kisses, but everytime I throw her a kiss ... I get the indian "wah wah wah wah" thingy instead.

We are getting really close to walking now too. The other night she was standing against the chair. She wanted to be standing next to the couch which was about two feet away. She spread her pudgy little legs as far apart as she could, leg go of the chair and stood there for a few seconds and then turned and reached for the couch like it was no big deal. Well, it is a big deal!

For one, she's going to be toddling around on two feet anytime now and I'm going to be babbling in the corner wondering "where's the baby?" Babies don't walk. Toddlers walk. I should at least have my baby until she is one. That seems only fair. I waited FOREVER for a baby. I'm being selfish and want her to stay a baby for longer than she is going to give me!

Two, she's already into everything. What in Hades am I going to do when she can walk and get into more places that crawling or the walker don't allow? Again, babbling in the corner.

Three ... Cody's room! The thought of her going in there is scarier than any other imaginable scenario that I can come up with right now. Cody's room looks like the Playstation area, the army people area, and the anything tiny and chokeable area of the store all threw up IN CODY'S ROOM! I tried to walk through there the other day to get something. With no shoes on. I kid you not, I stepped on something small, hard and pointy no less than ten times in the span on six feet. He should have a sign posted on his door that says "DANGER." Getting him to clean the room is like trying to get Sage to recite the Gettysburg Address. Pretty near to being a sure sign of the Apocalypse. It just isn't happening. You can threaten that child with being grounded until he is fifty and he will not clean that room and get everything put away. You can take away the Playstation. You can threaten to throw everything he owns away. Nadda. He will make a half-hearted attempt to shove everything under his bed and sneak out when you aren't looking. But ... he will NOT clean that room. I think I'm going in there this weekend with trashbags. Either it will scare him into action or we will have a truck load of things to take to the dump! What we cannot have any longer is a refusal to clean the damn room. It is now a danger and if it isn't cleaned by him, and I have to do it ... well, let's just say there will be many tears and wailing that will make you think he is mourning the passing of a loved one, if I have to clean HIS room.

You know what I'll be doing this weekend. Cleaning an eleven year old boys room while he flings himself on his bed and cries because you are throwing away all of the junk that he is collecting. Also, this weekend ... I'm likely taking a girl from Dink's church to look at Othello, because he needs someone who has time for him and I'm not a very good horse mommy right now. It's killing me. I love this horse so much, but it's just not fair to him. So, I may be selling him.

He's so beautiful. And he's so sweet. If I do sell him, it's going to break my heart.

Having Sage has made me have to give up some things in life. She's definitely worth it, but I so wish I didn't have to make choices like this one.

Waving bye the other morning before leaving for the babysitter. And screaming at her furby!

Getting into mommy's movies again ... and laying on the floor blowing raspberries at mommy.

Can we say BED HEAD? OHMIGOD! I can't believe the way this childs hair sticks up in the morning.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Sleepy ... So Sleepy

That's my new mantra. I learned it from the FURBY. The last two nights have been HELL! Sunday night, Sage did not sleep well at all. She basically tossed, turned, screeched and howled ALL night. I laid on the couch, trying to soothe her and probably slept ten whole minutes. Last night, not much better. She finally fell asleep at 10:15 and woke at 2:20 a.m. I rocker her, I walked with her, I laid down with her, I walked some more, I changed her, I fed her ... I did everything except for spin on my head like a dradle! I even gave her some infant tylenol in case there is another blasted tooth trying to push it's way through her gums! She finally fell back asleep at 3:30 a.m. And was up screaming like a banshee at 4:20 a.m. And I didn't go back to sleep.

I love my girl more than anything. I gladly handed her over to the babysitter this morning and cried as I walked out the door. Only I wasn't crying because I was leaving her yet again, and taking the chance on missing another first. I was crying because I felt guilty that I was relieved to not be holding onto her and trying to soothe her when NOTHING was working. I think this is the first time that I have been SO tired that I wanted someone else to take care of her. I HATE THAT. LOATHE IT. I feel like I have let her down and deserve to have someone flog me in the middle of the town square for being a failure.

I'm not sure how many more nights of no sleep I can take. Today is Dink's birthday. I have already told him that when she goes to sleep tonight, so will I and if he even thinks (even quietly in his noggin) about waking me up, AT ALL, for ANY reason ... I will kill him dead. And for good measure, to make sure that he knew just how much I had meant the threat, I might even resusciate him and kill him dead again.

My angel. She is the sun, the moon and the stars. She is my everything. She is going to be the death of me. Death by sleep deprivation. Or death by doing something stupid while under the effect of sleep deprivation. What I wouldn't give to be able to take one of her mid-afternoon naps right about now!

If you look VERY closely in the left picture, you can see her top tooth just behind her lip. And if you look just as closely on the bottom right (her left) you can see where tooth number four finally broke through the gums. OR you can click on the picture, and when it comes up, click on it again to get the full effect of her wide open mouth and see the tooth very clearly in the photos original size.

Monday, October 09, 2006

Feeling the love ...

... or not.

I had hoped to have the opportunity to do something, but due to various circumstances, I wasn't able to do so. I know. I'm vague. However, because of said circumstances, I re-named the "Blonde Bimbo" to the "Blonde Bimbo Dink" and Coll told me he might not speak to her again if he found out. Apparently, he's none too happy about being called the Blonde Bimbo. I believe he's offended. For no reason really, but we all know what that Y chromosome does to logic! Whoa. Boxers get all bunched, making the boys uncomfortable and all, and well ... when there is a believed offense, that offense will be held onto until someone pries it from their death grip and makes them throw it away.

Once upon a time, I had a crush. It was a BIG crush. This crush almost led to my purchasing a particular tank top that this crush had worn at one point. The individual who had possession of the item even questioned my intended use of the item if he were to sell it to me. It was kind of skeevy really ... dirty as hell ... smelled of BO ... and that made me want it even more. I know, I'm SICK! It was an illness. And before you call me a pervert one more time, I was actually going to frame the shirt. AND HANG IT ABOVE MY BED. So yeah, I guess I am kind of a perv afterall. I didn't buy the shirt though. Because I was going to feel really stupid with that shirt hanging above my bed when my best friend had just started seeing my crush.

And talk about CRUSHED. There went all of my fantasies ... shot straight to hell. Well, because I couldn't really fantasize about the guy that I knew was romancing my BFF! We joked about him occasionally. When he pissed her off, she would offer him to me ... knowing damn well she didn't mean it ... AND that I just didn't think about him in that way anymore.

Anyway, for me to be crushing so hard ... you know this guy had to be pretty smoking hot, right? I don't have bad taste. It may be questionable at times, but it's not bad. People just wonder. WHY? But not this crush. My friend Eddie and I used to argue over him. Well, he was always the ace in my pocket. Eddie and I had the same type of taste in men ... we would sit in a bar and inevitably, we would both notice the same man, at the same time. Always pissed me off that he scoped the room and made sure that he had to use the facilities at the exact same time as the hot guy across the bar. He always had something flippant to say when he came out of the restroom and if there was any indication that the guy was gay ... well, that's when I pulled the ace out of my pocket.

Eddie: Girl, too bad you can't go in there. You should check his shit out!

Me: That is just so wrong ... at least you know if they are a waste of time before it gets too far!


Eddie: Not worth the effort.

Me: Thanks Eddie. I was just looking ... now I don't even want to do that.


Eddie: He's gay ... HALLELUJAH!

Me: Well, insert hot crush guys name sure as hell isn't!

Eddie: Biatch! Why did you have to go there.

Yeah, so ... I've lost track of where I was going.

Ahhh ... Blonde Bimbo ... smoking hot ... fantasies shot to hell and all that. Now before he goes all getting his shackles up, when I say that Coll shared things with me, she didn't share details! Now who's the perv? But Coll would share with me what she would be doing and such in the evening or on the weekend. Just generalizations. Generalizations, that at times, would make me sigh and weep and curse the internet gods, who gave me my bestest friend in the world, for dangling such a morsel in front of me only to say nanny-nanny-boo-boo! Sometimes it would be steaks on the barbie ... attending a function ... yadda, yadda, yadda.

Well, one night it was champagne and a bubble bath. And dinner. Provided to her. By his HOTNESS! Excuse me? I'm drooling, slovenly ... like I'm part Mastiff or some shit ... over the mere thought of a damn dirty tank top and he's filling a big tub with bubbles, popping a bottle of Cristal and cooking dinner. So, I kind of blurted out "that Blonde Bimbo!" He was macking on my girl. Like nobodies business. Like he had to work to get some. And no, before anyone goes there, I'm not calling Coll easy. But I would have been. Nah ... not that easy. He would have had to feed me a piece of lettuce or something first. But seriously, I was astounded at the thought and effort he was putting into this particular evening and while it was sweet, and romantic and all of that mushy stuff that makes your heart flip-flop in your chest and your stomach feel like it's on a roller-coaster, in my eyes ... SO NOT NECESSARY DUDE! Hence, the Blonde Bimbo.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

I Think She's Been Going to Whiskey Bars ...

Sage has this husky, I've smoked ten packs of cigarettes and drank a bottle of bourbon, thing going on with her voice. It's the only sign I have seen that she is coming down with a cold, other than her crankiness. The teething unpleasantness and side effects ... they just don't stop, do they? The babysitter mentioned that her nose was runny when I picked her up yesterday evening, but I saw no sign of that. Just that I-just-did-a-shot-of-whiskey huskiness going on.

The mosquito bite ... not much better looking then it was on Tuesday night.

Tuesday night before leaving to go to the doctor's office.

Last night

Sage also has a new favorite activity for playtime. It's called "Let's rip all of the movies off of Mommy's shelf and eat them!" Sounds fun, eh? Doesn't matter if she's in her walker or just hanging out ... she's gotta pull them off the shelf. The other night, she was cruising around the kitchen in her walker, waving one of Dink's 'Girls Gone Wild' videos and he just about had a coronary.

Dink: That's just wrong, she should not be playing with THAT video.

Me: Not like she knows what's on the cover ...

Dink: But, but, the other kids, they shouldn't see her waving that around like that.

Me: So, take it from her prude. And don't leave them on my video shelf.

Dink: I didn't leave it there, PJ did ... after he watched it. Bad PJ! You shouldn't be watching videos like that.

PJ: What? I didn't. I didn't watch that movie. I don't even know what it is. (as he runs to his bedroom, turning ten shades of red)

For the record ... PJ didn't watch that movie. PJ would be too embarassed to even glance at the cover (that shows nothing) as he walked by.

Here is my angel ... pulling all of Mommy's movies from their proper place. In her new favorite way to sit. Cracks me up. And her foot just because. I hate feet. But I love her little chubby feet. I know. I'm weird. But I love nibbling on her toes.

Don't you just want to pinch those little cheeks?

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Last Week, Hell ... This Week, Jail

So, I picked Sage up at the babysitters yesterday and noticed immediately that the side of her left calf looked like it was in need of dire medical attention. I freaked out over the damn mosquitoes biting my baby. And what the hell happened to her leg? Automatic assuming of worse went into overdrive and my mind went straight to a) bit by nasty little eight-legged freaks, probably a horrid brown recluse, and the doctor was going to have to cut her leg and drain it ... b) bit by nasty little eight-legged freaks, that lay eggs in peoples flesh and OHMIGOD, the baby spiders would be hatching from my daughter if I did not get her to the doctor NOW! Yeah, it looked that bad for a mosquito bite. And yeah, spiders, those like black fuzzy looking things from the garden in particular, DO lay eggs in human flesh ... LIVING human flesh. My seventh grade science class and the story told by a boy named Wade came rushing back to me in all of it's horror and, OHMIGOD, a spider laid eggs in my babies leg.

It's a mosquito bite. And apparently Monkey is developing a "sensitivity" according to the pediatrician. I have pictures and I will post them once I get them uploaded into the computer. The doctors advice ... keep her away from mosquitoes. Like I set her outside on the deck at dusk, sipping Mai Tais, and let the mosquitoes feast on her tender baby flesh.

All of this has me wondering what I'm going to do if, or I should say when, something actually happens to her that is more serious than a mosquito bite?!? Am I going to be able to hold myself together? I'm not an overly dramatic person and usually remain calm during crisis situations. I'm always the voice of reason. I've always had the ability to detach myself from a situation enough to be useful instead of getting in the way. I'm not thinking I will be able to do that where my daughter is involved and it scares the shit out of me. What if I'm the only one there, like when she busted her lip over the weekend and I was freaking about where all of the blood was coming from, and cursed her father steadily for half an hour for working on the weekend, when he should have been home with me just in case she fell on that stupid block she wants to eat and cut her lip? Now that I look back, there wasn't that much blood. But Saturday evening, OHMIGOD, the blood! Where's it coming from? Did you cut your lip? Did you cut your gums? Did you somehow manage to bite your tongue with the slightly protruding top tooth? Did you knock a tooth out? For the record. Litte tiny cut. Bottom lip. Complete freak-out on my part. She was asleep forty-five minutes later.

I think worrying about her safety is going to be the end of my sanity. I can't deal with things hurting her. I can't deal with the possibility of it. What the hell am I going to do when she comes home from kindergarten and says some child pushed her down on the playground? I can tell you right now, at the rate my mind is going, first thought will be that horrid, monster child and it's breeders must suffer. I'm just hoping that the little synapses that fire in my brain and tell me when I am going overboard are still working correctly at the time because I don't want to only see my daughter on visitation days through a plate of glass! I need to find a way to be rational when it comes to her or ... I'm going to jail.

For now, I leave the more reasonable humans out there who think I'm becoming a drama queen in motherhood, with this ...

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Spring Cleaning

I think I have my seasons mixed up. You are supposed to do that throw everything out kind of cleaning in the Spring. Correct? Then what the hell was I doing all weekend? I couldn't stop with the cleaning of things. And the throwing away of things. And I found my pre-pregnancy clothes and washed them all, knowing damn well that they don't fit, and then had a nice little breakdown in my bedroom because I can't lose the weight. Ugh.

With Sage's cutting of teeth, yeah that's right, I said TEETH, not tooth ... she tends to be sporadically happy or cranky. Kind of like a little Jekyl and Hyde personality going on that I am hoping she only lets out during the cutting of teeth. Much unlike her father, who is in a constant struggle between the two and doesn't know which he wants to have as a full time, integrated personality! The mood swings in that child. Ohmigod. She is set off by the most innocent of things when she's tired and cranky. And tired and cranky she is. She can't sleep through the night because of the teeth, which I've lost count of, so she is battling the sleepy-time fairy by 7:00pm and throwing fits that make John McEnroe look tame back in the day! There should be a rule against having more than one tooth come in at a time. Really. There should be.

We got a package in the mail this past weekend. Well, not we ... Sage did. The kids told me that I got a package but it very clearly had Sage's name on it. Of course, I knew what it was. It was a present from Fairie Goddessmama Colleen and as soon as I opened it and pulled this soft, gorgeous blanket out ... Sage was reaching for it making her "Ooo, Ooo" noise. The child knew it was hers. She hugged it and rubbed it on her face and promptly took it to her MawMaw's with her! She owes Fairie Goddessmama lots of kisses when she sees her.

I didn't really get any pictures this weekend because of the cleaning frenzy. I have been waiting for over a month now to put her little Halloween outfit on her. It's just a cute little shirt and pants, but I didn't feel right putting it on her before October. She wore it yesterday. And she was completely uncooperative about having her picture taken. Shut up Mads! I am not blinding her. Anyway ... this was all I got and you can't tell how absolutely adorable it is at all. The pants have little embroidered candy corns down one leg. It's just too cute. Now I have to find a pair of orange socks and get some better pictures next time she wears it. For now ... you get this.

Yeah, that's it for the picture taking. I'll get her tonight. During one of her 'Mommy isn't looking so I'm going to let go and stand on my own' extravaganzas that let me know they really do grow up way too fast. This was also thrust right into my heart like a piercing little dagger when she was playing with Dink the other night. When I reached for her, she actually took a step and tried to walk, unassisted, to me. I grabbed her up real quick lest she actually realize she can do it and I have a heart attack because my nine month old is walking and getting into everything I have managed to move from her crawling/stand reach. I'm going to be in so much trouble when she's fully mobile and on two legs. You may find me in a corner, babbling to myself, sounding like her newly discovered FURBY!