Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Baby's First Road Trip

About 3 hours south of Cleveland (which only took us 4 hours to make the trip!),
to my best friend's baby shower.

 I made that diaper cake! Isn't it sweet?

Ollie's 1/2 birthday was that Saturday, and the shower was on Sunday.
He had a ball, hanging with all da ladiez...


Friday, July 23, 2010

big time!

You guys. You may or may not have noticed.



I know. I am so big time.

So, I've updated my button, done a little rearranging (two righty-sidebars! yippee!) and I'm pretty sure I've updated the buttons up there to reflect the "new" feed. I know that Google redirects anyone that goes to the old .blogspot site here, but someday I may switch to Wordpress or something and blah blah bzzzzzzzzzzzt! 

It's new blog stuff! If anyone out there has me in their reader or bookmarked, I'd appreciate it if you'd update to the fancy Feedburner edition!

(Family: Email subscriptions stay the same!)

Also! There's a new way to comment... I'm trying out a new program that shouldn't require you to log in to anything - just enter your name and email address (which only I can see). So please leave a comment so we can test it out... this means you, California! And you, Ramirez!

OK. That is all.

Except for a few pics, which is what y'all come here for in the first place:


Thursday, July 15, 2010

a mash-up of firsts

Oliver, my love:

In honor of your 8-month day, (you will learn quickly that your mama is random like this... you might think that celebrating a half birthday/6 months would make sense, but that's not how we operate around here) here are a few "firsts" from your life up until now. You will also find out that I may not be the best record-keeper or the most faithful scrapbooker, but I will always be there cheering you on. With or without a camera in my hand, I will always be around for moments big and small, helping you learn and make memories.

With all my heart,
Mama

your first day at home - wearing your first hoodie


 
your smiles - my heart grew three sizes that day


sick appointment - diagnosis: blocked tear duct & a broken blood vessel



 
a round of shots - this only nearly killed your mom



here's the first time you met your friend Madelyn

 
and your first time trying "food", rice cereal


You make my heart so happy, baby Ollie.

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

where I'm from

Thanks to Metta at 365 Days: 30+ Mommyhood (another 30 year old first time mom!) for setting up this blog hop! Here's my take on “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon.

I am from coffee cups,
from Kleenex, two-liters and Rock Band drums.
I am from a half acre of suburbia
dog hair and the smell of fresh cut grass.

I am from the weeds in the gravel driveway
the climbing tree in Papa & Gramma’s backyard, cut down in old age
whose long gone limbs remember
as if they were my own.

I’m from Hohn thumb and the fifteen-cent game
from Mary Arndt and Great-Grandma on the Mountain.
I’m from proudly crafted sarcasm and the ya-ya sisterhood
and from friendships made at Friendly’s.

I’m from “nutso-crazy” and “put your foot down, Papa!”
       “Can I spend the night?”
I’m from every other weekend, plus alternating holidays,
from the six of us.
I’m from General Hospital, The Farming Game, Yes & Know invisible ink,
       Are You Afraid of the Dark?
from the Lorain County fair, sidewalk chalk art and Pat Benatar.

I’m from Cleveland and Germany and Spring City, Tennessee
from banana pudding and the perfect potato salad.
From a young country couple who went to Georgia to get married.
       The man who left his young family to find work
       and taught himself everything he needed to know;
       his wife who remembers the date and every detail of every event.
He would have been happy to stay home, but dutifully went everywhere
she wanted to go
I’m from the countless photos, obituaries, and newspaper mentions
       cataloged religiously and kept in the sewing room.
I’m from “I have my whole life to be with this man I love!”
from family and friends, here and gone, then and now, loved and lost.

I’m from replacing bad memories with newer better versions
from learning as you go
from Nick’s hugs and Oliver’s smiles
making the best of the time I have surrounded by the ones I love.


Wednesday, July 7, 2010

from naptimes past



 
I was so happy for him when he started playing with his feet!
 
It may be a weird thing to be proud of, but it was one of those first steps of self discovery.
He was becoming an independent-thinking little baby boy, no longer a "helpless" infant.
 


 That's a 3-6 month size sleeper.

Friday, July 2, 2010

Notes to myself

Dear Sara (age 5),
Do your classwork! You're a smart kid, you know what you're supposed to do... Once you buckle down and just do it already the look on your teacher's face when you hand it in first instead of dead last will be something you won't forget. Keep it up and maybe this won't be the start of a long procrastination streak in your life?


Dear Sara (age 11),
You're right. This school sucks. Those girls are awful and mean. I'm so sorry. You'll grow out of that hair and after some minor medical treatment your skin will clear up. Just keep your head in your schoolwork, because even though you feel miserable, you'll look back and remember a couple of really nice teachers. One of whom gave you an "S" pin because she wanted to make you feel special, which you'll hold on to for at least 20 years.


Dear Sara (age 15),
Don't date him. He's get you into way more trouble than he's worth.


Dear Sara (age 16),
Oh, please don't hurt him. You have no idea right now, but he's the one for you. The one you'll love forever. I know it doesn't seem possible, but it's true. If you must break up with him, make sure not to be a jerk. You want him to remember you in the best light possible.


Dear Sara (age 17),
Try to hold on to this happy, confident version of yourself. Things may not be perfect, but as you finish up your senior year in high school you'll feel your best: a good friend & a good student with a clear path.


Dear Sara (age 18-20),
For the love of big butter Jesus do NOT date him. He'll virtually ruin your freshman year of college. I'd tell you to go to class, but even with extra prodding you'd only go enough to get a passing grade. NOT COOL. You're not a fun person to be around right now, but go ahead a lean on your friends and Dad. They'll surprise you. Listen to Jen. She will be a will always be a voice of reason, compassion and comfort for you, and you will be forever grateful that that she was there for this phase of your life. It will make your friendship stronger.


Dear Sara (age 22),
Deep breath. You're going to make it. As much as you might feel that way now, you're not stuck. This is not your life. You don't have to marry him. Try not run up your credit card, don't spend all your money on eating out at restaurants and freaking BOOZE.

DO run screaming from the state of Ohio. Even though it sucks to leave behind your friends, moving in with Mom and getting to become friends with her will end up being one of the best decisions you've ever made. And when Nick moves in it will be awkward at times, but the relationship he'll gain with Mom will make you all happy and grateful for the time you spent together.


Dear Sara (age 26),
Use some damn hand sanitizer or something so you won't get the flu the week before your wedding. Don't worry about it, the fact that you attempt to run down the aisle to Nick and Dad having to slow you down will end up being a fond memory. Make a copy of the video for Mom now so she's not still waiting for it in 4 years.


Dear Sara (age 29) (one year ago TODAY),

It's a boy. He's going to be perfect. You're going to be happier than you ever thought possible.

Don't listen to what anyone else has to say. You look good in that shirt. You CAN have a natural, med-free labor. In fact, you're going to look labor, delivery and even recovery in the eye and say I OWN you.

Talk to Nick more about how he's feeling. It's easy to wallow in pregnant self-pity, but don't forget that he's expecting a baby too.



(Family: click on any of the links below to read other bloggers' letters to themselves.)