Our baby

No not another baby.
Our current one.
The last one.
Before I endured enjoyed pregnancy for the third time, we decided that we were so done.
And by we, I mean I.
And if there were any second thoughts about producing another pint-sized Pitts, Micah has definitely put that to rest.
Yes, you Micah, are the reason we have sworn off children.
Because the shear amount of patience and energy required to keep up with you has stolen my youth.
Changing your diaper is like performing an exorcism.
There is a lot of thrashing around, screaming, and clawing at the ground.
I need an old priest and a young priest.
As you pummel me with your tiny, but surprisingly strong fists, I basically pin you to the ground with my knees.
That's fun.
Nine times a day.
And when we aren't acting out the scene from 8 Seconds, you are climbing on everything: the counters, dining table, microwave, beds, bathroom vanity, siblings, every chair anywhere, coffee table, fine china (true story).
Standing your slippery nude body up in the bathtub only to loose your footing as I dove in slow-motion to catch you is what caused your chipped tooth.
I tell myself your curiosity and keen aptitude for complete destruction is the price I pay for having spawn a baby genius.
Isn't there a saying somewhere about geniuses also being slobs?
Did I make that up or hear it on Spiderman?
Anyway, in addition to leaving our house in shambles daily, and crying for most of your life, you are also very opinionated.
Can you eat an Oreo whole, without both sides being pulled apart so you can lick the frosting off first?
No, of course not.
Can you go to bed without having a full sippy of water tucked neatly beside you?
Wouldn't hear of it.
And my favorite is the tantrum you throw when I insist you put the Swiffer back in the broom cupboard in order to avoid popping everyone in the kneecaps. That and smashing our TV.
But despite all of your "charisma," I am madly in love with you.
Which is why I impatiently affectionately embrace your strong personality.
You are starting to talk.
It started slow.
Your first word was "sick."
And then "Daddy," "cheese," "trash" and "cookie."
I agree. Daddy is a cheesy trash cookie. Sick yo.
But now you have expanded your vocab to include "Mommy," "Hi/bye" and something that sorta sounds like "Ryan."
And you give most words a good attempt, with a sly grin.
And even though I could look up the word clingy in the dictionary and find a picture of your handsome face, I secretly love it, except when you pants me. In front of strangers.
Or leave a booger trail on my skirt at church.
And I love that your favorite stuffed animal, your "lovey," is a spindly monkey named Winky that was purchased at the dollar store.
Or that you stand faithfully by the door awaiting my return every time I venture outside.
And that you become frustrated when wearing onsies because you can't lift up your shirt to check out your belly.
And that when I give you Lucky Charms (I am a good mom), you pick out all the marshmallows and push whatever is left over across the table in disgust.
You are obsessed with your binky and I sorta am too.
It is one of the few things that makes you blissfully happy.
I will miss your rosy naptime cheeks when you grow. And your slobbery, wildly dramatic kisses.
A special emphasis on the Mmmmmmmmwaaaaah!
Micah, you are a handful.
But I couldn't imagine getting my hands on a more perfect baby boy.

 

xo Mommy

Valentine's sushi and a growth chart

I should be compiling my grocery shopping list right now.
Maybe even folding laundry.
Or if I was super responsible, I would be in bed sleeping.
However, watching New Girl while scouring Pinterest seemed like a better use of my time.
That and blogging.
Plus, I figured I'd better whip up my Valentine's Day recap soon before it became irrelevant.
Too late?
Well, I am going to tell you about it anyway because the fact that it was celebrated around here at all is indeed a miracle.
You see, Scott and I aren't the sentimental type.
Oh, I have every intention of draping our house in festive banners and bedazzled crap, but can't. quite. commit.
I did make "love crepes" for dinner ... with strawberries and whip cream.
And I even got Scott a card that read as follows:

"You know when you ask me if I'm mad,
and I say "No."

And then an hour later you ask me
if I want a soda and I say,
"Why the hell would I want a soda?"

That's fun.
Happy Valentine's Day.

I'm sweet.
But despite my empty well-intended attempts at gift-giving/celebrations, Scott always manages to outdo me.
Shocking, I know. Especially after telling you how I am lame.
As unlikely as this may seem, Scott is quite thoughtful, and isn't afraid to try something new.
This year he announced, "I am going to make you Valentine's sushi."
"Uhhh, I am not sure that is a good idea. Why don't we just have "valentine's" ramen and call it good?"
"No, really. I looked it up on the internet and it is going to be really easy. I will just whip out a few rolls and we can have a late, kids-free dinner."
So we put the kids to bed early and retreated to the kitchen.
I pretended we were in a romantic comedy.
You know, the one where the guy and girl are sipping wine and laughing, exchanging witty banter all while preparing a fancy meal together accompanied by snobby instrumental music.
Only I was perched on our baby's highchair, drinking warm sparkling cider while Scott wrestled with the seaweed wraps all while discussing our daughter's excessive farting sensitive digestive system.
And I am pretty sure Family Guy was playing in the background.
That is romance. Or it is ten years together.
Either way, I just love mah man.
And the icing on the love cake?
The sushi was delish.
Scotty is a man of many talents.

Here they are. Salmon, avocado, cucumber, and carrot. They were so fresh and light.
And that justifies eating a dozen. Right?

He also got me a gift certificate for new glasses.
Which I have been obnoxiously subtly hinting at for some time.
I already have the perfect frames picked out. Can't wait to show you.

And because the title of this post says something about a growth chart, I will now unveil my latest Pinterest-inspired project.
Right after I show you a picture of a baby.
Who is starting to look more like a little boy.
Sniff.

Stop it. You precious thing, quit growing so fast.

So my motivation behind creating a growth chart was driven by the necessity to scrub all the door frames of every place we have ever lived ... or visited ... or possibly driven past.
Our kids are obsessed with seeing how tall they are.
And are convinced that their growth is changing rapidly every day.
So I thought I would make them something that we could move from place to place, oh and then to the next place. And the one after that.
Until we die.
From moving.

I first searched Pinterest for a few ideas, and then decided on a direction.
After staining my board, I taped it off in a chevron pattern.
Can you believe that this is my first chevron project?
I am a chevron virgin.
I made the white chevron arrows six inches long so that once applied, they are one foot from point to point.
After painting the white and gray, I used vinyl stencils as an outline for my numbers.
Then just filled them in with black crafters paint.

 

I placed them above their respective marker.
If that makes sense.
After looking at my handiwork, I jumped up and down, clapping wildly.
And made up a song about how much I love blue painters tape.
Then I showed Scott, who said it looked a little like a railroad crossing arm.
Thanks.

Look at me, all fancy with a close up shot. Don't worry, I don't have an delusions that this is a real craft blog.
I added the close up to show my stellar sanding job.

I decided to sand it after the paint dried in order to give it a more beat up look.
I don't want it to be too precious, since my kids are going to be drawing all over it.
I'm gonna find a gold sharpie to use for the actual measuring of growth.

And a pic of Ryan showing off my mad skillz.
Technically I designed it to be hung exactly six inches off the floor in order to get an accurate measurement.
And don't forget that we are staying at Scott's grandparent's house, lest you think I actually decorate with ... well everything going on in this photo.

Didn't know I was taking a picture of him. Even though I am like four inches away.

And just for good measure, a picture of Ezra eating what looks like a cookie.
Shirtless.
With skinny little noodle arms and every rib showing.
And that belly.
Just want to pinch him.

Well, that about does it for me.
I am off to indulge in my daily 1/2 cup of ice cream.
It is the reason I get up in the morning.

xo
Brianne

Eleanor

I am back.

Nobody panic.

I wasn't here last week, but now I am.

Come down off the ledge.

Because I know that is how you must feel during my absence.

I am still determined to post at least once a week, and I actually have another mediocre exciting post planned for the weekend, so technically I will be right on shhhedule.

But my silence was for, I promise, the most incredible cause.

I went to Eugene.

'Cause my sister had a baby!

A tiny, beautiful six-pound peanut. With the skinniest little curled-up frog legs you ever did see.

Baby Eleanor Jane was born just over a week ago with the fluffiest black hair and the daintiest little lips/snot-shoot.

She is perfect.

And my sister is pretty darn incredible too. 

She is now the proud momma to four, FOUR, girls!
Thinking about even thinking about having that many kids causes me shortness of breath and severe sweating.
Hysterical. That is how I would probably feel.
Heck, I feel that way now with only three.
Like I am being ripped apart by a pack of wildebeests.
But I digress.
This isn't about me and my delirium.
It is about how amazing Britney is, and her sweet baby with sweet baby skin.
Couldn't you just breath baby skin in all day?
Just me?

Look at her. Is she not the most precious thing? And picking her up is like lifting a feather.

Anyway, naturally she looks nothing like any of the other three.

Because they all look nothing like each other.

You would think after four you would get a repeat but they are all different and beautifully unique.

So I did my best to keep up with the house work and not get in the way too much.

And sneak in a few baby skin whiffs.

And while I was sniffing the baby like a fruitloop helping, my amazing in-laws took care of the two oldest kids all week.

They had a blast.

And McDonalds. Apparently every day.

But that is what you do at your grandparents.

And now everyone is home again.

And forced to eat my sob-inducing meatloaf with broccoli.

 

Britney, you are my best friend and I love you so much I pretty much can't stand it.

I am so proud of you.

You are the best mom and such a good example to me.

Congratulations Basting family!

 

-B

xo