Stockyard Stalkers & Throwbacks {cont.}
I know you all came here to see endless pictures of Beckett and to get minutely updates on what he’s doing. We’ll get to that in due time. I already talk too much about baby poo, so I’m not going to mention how I nearly asked another mom at Corner Bakery if I could buy a spare outfit off her so my kid wouldn’t have to sit through breakfast in the soggy poop clothes I unsuccessfully attempted to wash off in the bathroom. Since I’m not bringing up the mom fail from above, I will bring up Taylor’s latest sleep-talking. It went a little something like this: Taylor: What? What…
A letter for Beckett
Hi, Beckett boy. Guess what? You’re 6 months old! 6 big ones. How does that even happen? It seems like yesterday I was meeting you and your chipmunk cheeks for the first time, but at the same time it kind of seems like you’ve been around forever. You have gotten so big! It blows my mind how much you’ve changed in the past several months. You went from a sweet, little, limp nugget to a big, strong, active boy! You’re so smart and curious – always scoping out the world at large. You’re currently hanging out at the top of the charts in height, which is awesome and all, but…
Soul Patches & Tails
We have an action-packed week in the Brooks’ house. Yesterday my friend Candace (affectionately known as Auntie Candy by Beckett) and I had a delightfully horrible shopping experience during the torrential rainstorm, ate at a delish Mexican joint, and stayed up googling “staph infections” and “stretch marks” well into the night. Tuesday, my mom comes in from Kansas. She’s scheduled to come anyway. There’s a good chance she’ll spontaneously combust before she even gets down here. She’s just a wee bit excited. Wednesday is Ladies’ Bible Study, but more importantly – my brother’s birthday and Beckett’s 6 monthiversary. It’s going to be a good one. Here’s a few highlights from…
Love.
6 years ago today, a boy that I really liked gave me the most thoughtful present I’ve ever received. Men: take notes. Or just print this post. Either one. He gave me a dozen red roses which I displayed proudly in my freshman dorm room. The roses were just a teaser for our date that night after he got off work and showered to rid himself of the ever-present fish smell. He worked at Red Lobster. Now we’re off topic. My friend came in, counted the roses, and reported back that there were only 11. My response was, “Seriously? Who counts someone else’s flowers?” But, alas, she was right. The…
Apoocalypse, Huh?, & Suckers
Warning: this story is not for the faint of heart. It is, however, for anyone with any prior experience with baby poosplosions. If you a) are proper or b) do not fall into the latter category, you should leave now and go read the post about The Little Things instead. Apoocalypse I actually have a picture to go along with the Apoocalypse of 2012, but I’ll spare you. (My family wasn’t so lucky.) This sums up the back story pretty well: Without fail, every time Beckett goes into the exersaucer, we have an exploosion of epic proportions. The great part is, I don’t realize he needs his diaper changed until…
It’s the Little Things
…like having shoulders for your saggy cheeks to rest on. …having an multipurpose ottoman: a place to rest weary feet, storage for an unnecessary amount of blankets, and a container for the fun-sized member of the family. …realizing your husband has created impenetrable pillow barrier to confine your now-mobile child. …telling your color-challenged spouse that the couches he has seen every day for decades are not brown, but red and green plaid. …being glad an entire mug of coffee spilled in your car, forcing a much needed deep clean. …wiping rice cereal from your eyebrows, complements of a baby sneeze mid-bite. …pushing an empty stroller the last mile of a…
