Wednesday, December 26, 2012


At eleven months old Ivy takes one or two steps before getting freaked out and switching to a crawl. She knows hot to unlock iphones and delete apps.
She says "Mom" and I think  she might actually know what it means.
She likes to turn book pages even if you haven't read the entirety of the text on said pages.
She loves chicken, cheese, clementines, avacadoes and bread.
She has two teeth on top and four on  bottom.
Her six month clothing finally fits and she'll keep her shoes on if tied tight enough.
She likes to giggle and squirm during diaper changes. If she hears adults laughing, she tries to join in with a big, fake "ha ha ha ha."
She insists on making this face at every person she sees:

I have no idea where she learned it.

She's getting friendlier toward new people but still cries if I leave the room.
Church with Ivy is a wrestling match and she always wins.
She only sitsstill if she's really tired or is playing with an electronic device.

Christmas with  Ivy was a blast. She didn't quite understand presents but she acted happy and excited all the same, playing with wrapping paper and ribbons, and every once in a while glancing at at her new (many) toys.

At one month shy of a year, she's more fun than  ever,and I honestly don't know what I did with out her.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

No one cried this year

What's Christmas without a little vicious friendly competition. This year's gingerbread construction produced some of the  finest work from the Morleys (and two Walters) to date. And though we're  all extremely proud of our efforts, we want to know who is the the most talented and amazing family member. So if you would, take a minute and vote for your favorite Christmas Creation.

Entry: A

The real star of this Three Little Pigs artistic interpretation is the Big Bad Wolf
Entry B:
A Christmas Crossing
Entry C:
Let down your long licorice
Entry D:

Roving Mars
Entry E:
The only actual house this year

Entry F:
Plaaaaaaaaaay ball

Which candy creation conquers all?

Also, this:
I sent out 25 and then gave up, so I'm sorry if you didn't get an actual tangible copy. I realize now that I should have worn a more feminine shirt for this picture because I'm dangerously close to passing as a Man.
Have a Merry Christmas. 

Monday, December 17, 2012


Friday we hustled around our apartment in preparation  for our drive to Utah. The plan was to let Ivy get as tired as possible so she'd sleep for hours in the car. It wasn't  long past nap time before the fatigue set  in and she sat on  the ground, extended her arms and cried "Mamamama." I rolled my eyes, picked her up and held her just long enough  for the crying to cease, then put her down,  handed her a pacifier and continued cleaning the kitchen.

A while later we were packed and loaded, Stephen and  I in  the front seats, Ivy and Ollie in the back. As the car started so did NPR and we heard the most devestating news of the elementary school  shooting in Connecticut. As the reports turned more horrific and less hopeful, all I  wanted to do was hold  and comfort my baby. And I cried  with horror and guilt thinking about those mothers who  no longer could.

I can't even begin to imagine their grief and it almost feels disrespectful to try. But I think  we need to grieve.  We need to remember how terrible this was and we need to stop forgetting about these incindents and do something. Aurora felt personal as a Coloradan, but as a mother this feels much much worse. I don't want to find out how much more personal it can get.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

You've had a birthday, roof roof roof

Hey Ollie!

Happy  second birthday! Yesterday you were a puppy but today you are a dog.
I know it hasn't been the easiest year for you. Ivy took a lot of our time and attention and more often than not your emotional needs were placed on the back burner. I know you ate your feelings since you gained six pounds since last December, and the stress seems to have turned your hair grey. You've had your hair pulled, your eyes poked, your food stolen, and your pride hurt too many times to count. And yet, you're still a good dog. You don't bite, you only bark sometimes, and you love us despite the borderline neglect. Thank you for not hurting Ivy. Thank you for cuddling. Thank you for being the best running buddy ever.

We love you, Ollie. Happy Birthday.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Eat your heart out

Blame Britt for whatever happens  to you when you watch this:

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Naughty and Nice

By yesterday afternoon I had all but completely lost faith in humanity. During the preceding 72 hours someone who hates happiness sent me a virus  disguised as a customer complaint, a disgruntled and very confused woman accused me of sending her a virus, a scary old man joked about my menstrual cycle and our *favorite next door neighbor cornered and yelled at me guessed it...knocking on our shared wall. 
So when I saw roughly twenty elementary school children  lined up and yelling along the playground fence as I was about to run past, I assumed I was being heckled. I'm the first to admit that I have the gait of an injured hippo (which is probably why as a child I was picked last for every recess game, that or my inability to catch or throw) and given my previous interactions with those monsters we call humans this week, it would make total sense that the children were shouting hurtful remarks. Out of morbid curiosity or maybe self-hatred, I removed my headphones to better hear their insults.
"Hey!", they yelled.
"Can  you get our ball for us?" 
I apprehensively crept closer,  wondering if they might throw rocks or paint at me if I got near enough. I was pleasantly surprised to find a football hidden in the weeds a foot or two away from the fence.
"Throw it over!" they encouraged. 
Terrible flash backs of kick and dodgeball raced through my head. I might not be able to throw that far. They were going to laugh at me. They were going to send me a computer virus or joke  about my womanhood or  file a complaint with our Home Owners' Association.
"Don't choke don't choke don't choke" I pleaded with myself as I wound my arm and released the ball.   
I sighed with relief as it barely cleared the fence. 
Then, the children cheered. I kid you not, the children CHEERED. 
And, you're not going to believe it, but the whole gaggle of youngins said Thank You. They used their manners and showed appreciation. And just like that there was hope once more. 
Adults are terrible but the children are our future. Don't believe me? Look at this:

I apologize if you've already seen this photo on Facebook  or Twitter or Instagram or the billboard I rented on the freeway. What can I say? I love Christmas and  I love my child.

*Least favorite. She's terrible.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

other priorities

My spacebar isn't really working, so I guess you could say my life is pretty rough.

Speaking of challenges, this is new:

Maybe Ivy's fondness for the toilet andits accompanying paper bodes well for pottytraining.  Or maybe it doesn't. I recognize that andits  is not a word. Now do you understand the trial that is my computing? This keyboard is straight up making up words. It's some serious hardship up in here.

Speaking of actual challenges and human suffering, as in the French Revolution, let's  talk about Les Miserables.
I was so over this upcoming movie for a long time. I ignored the Facebookers incessantly posting the trailer. I reminded myself that Anne Hathaway is The Worst.  I agreed with Stephen when he said the movie (or musical) could never compare to the book. But then we went to see Lincoln (which was awsome, BTdubs), and I was blindsided by the the long-avoided, hated Hathaway soloing,  Les Miserables trailer. Guys, I bawled like a freaking baby. And I know what babies bawl like because,  I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but I have one.
So you win, Lay Miz. I'll see you. I'll cry. I'll say I could have done without Anne H. but secretly think she nailed it. I'll be touched to the core because I'm a sucker.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Double Digits

Ivy enjoying her Thanksgiving meal
Ivy is 10 months old today. I know right?! Didn't you read about 9 months like last week?
At 10 months Ivy is: pulling herself up on furniture, standing for a few seconds, falling less, sleeping less, bathing more, eating more,  crawling at warp speed, shaking her head no, clapping her hands, turning on phones, breaking into baby-proofed cupboards, saying  "mamamama", watching Sesame  Street, playing the ipad piano, feeding Ollie the snacks she's supposed to be eating, pulling hair,  poking eyes, crying when we take things away from her and making us laugh all the  time.
It makes me sad that her babiness will soon turn  to toddlerdom. Toddlers are terrifying and I'm already sturggling to keep up with Earth's Most Active Child. But I'm excited for walking and  words and peanut butter sandwiches and art projects and whatever else lies ahead in the next ten months. If they are anything like the last ten, it will be the time of our lives.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Happy Friday

Thursday, November 15, 2012

Another beautiful day in the neighborhood

In seventh grade someone started a Burn Book and passed it around the school. It eventually got to me and I found a page titled "Meg Morley". The burns were as follows:

"She's so quiet"
"Too quiet"
"So quiet"

So imagine my surprise when our landlord called and warned that the home owners association has received a number of reports of loud noises coming from our apartment.

If you just said to yourself "It's probably Stephen's fault," thank you for taking my side, but I have to assure you that if there's anyone less likely to cause a ruckus than I am, it's Stephen. He mutes television commercials so the volume doesn't give him a headache.

If I had to guess, I would say we've fallen victim to another hallucinatory meltdown from our next door neighbor. That or the fight club we host twice a week needs to relocate.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

It's like RAID became part of my chemical makeup.

Do you have a crushing fear of all things creepy and crawly? Does the word Arachnophobia define your existence? Have you been known to call a neighbor to come kill a Daddy Long Leg at three o clock in the morning?

Well, do I have a cure for you!

Parturition. (Street name: Child Birth).

Prechild, I was once like you. Spiders haunted my dreams. The great outdoors seemed nothing more than a giant habitat for terrifying invertebrate. I was even afraid of butterflies.

But then, after gestation and delivery, I stepped into the nursery to check on my sleeping infant. All seemed well until I spotted a decent-sized spider mere inches from my daughter's crib. Without so much as a chill down my spine, I marched to the bathroom, grabbed some tissue, and I CRUSHED THAT SUCKER DEAD. Nobody, spine or no spine, messes with my baby.

Thanks, Parturition!

Side effects may include: Weight gain, weepiness, nausea, and a human being to care for.

Friday, November 9, 2012

I guess I'll just bake

Today I wrote a customer the following email:
"Call your doctor. He'll tell you what to do."
So I guess I'm not a feminist after all, what with my assumption that all doctors are men.
While I'm destroying my lady street cred, I might as well admit that playing Modern Warfare makes me nauseous, and I tried watching Apocalypse Now but I just don't get it.

Monday, November 5, 2012

She's done alright for a girl

The lady who sat across the church foyer and watched Ivy play asked, "Is she your first?" I told her yes, and she said to Ivy, "Your mom has so much to learn". I just smiled, not knowing what response she was expecting, but knowing full well the response I wanted to give. I wanted to tell her that I'm very aware that I have a long way to go. That I know I'm not doing everything perfectly. That I really should know what BPA is, what to do when my baby has a cold, and how to make and store homemade baby food. That I worry all day every day about feeding her enough, playing with her enough, teaching her enough, and showing her that I love her enough. That I get very overwhelmed seeing what other moms accomplish, and that I know I shouldn't compare myself to them but I do anyway. That I know I shouldn't turn on Sesame Street just to get her to stay still but I do it anyway. That I should be able to get her to sit through Sunday School but I can't. That I should be comfortable nursing in public but I'm not. That yes, I do have so much to learn, but the last thing I need is a stranger reminding me that I'm not the ideal mother. 
I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt my feelings. She just wanted an excuse to talk about her five children, thirty three grandchildren and eight great grand children. She wanted to share her wisdom, and I appreciate that. But what I appreciate more are the moms who remember what it's like the first time around. Who listen and nod, who hold my baby and let me know I'm doing alright, despite all the things I'm doing wrong. 
I hope when I'm older I never tell a scared new parent how far they have to go. I hope I tell them how far they've come.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Happy Halloween to You and Yours!

Monday, October 29, 2012

Why my husband and I were meant for each other

Stephen has an amazing, recently discovered gift. He has the ability to decipher the celebrity voice narrating every commercial on television. That is to say, he can describe the physical attributes and character traits associated with each celebrity narrating the commercials but can not name them because Stephen is really REALLY terrible with names. I, however, am really REALLY excellent with names, especially famous ones. So Stephen hears the commercial, says something like, "The Office, Tall guy," and I shout, "John Krasinski!" Or he says, "Home Improvement, drugs, prison," and I declare, "Tim Allen!"
So yeah. Soul mates.

Thursday, October 25, 2012

Divisible by 3

Guess who's 9 months...tomorrow...

Ivy is mobile. Insanely mobile. She's the Usain Bolt of crawling. She pulls herself to a standing position on the couch, the wall, and her crib. The paranoid mother in me wants to get her a helmet to soften the blow of the falls that happen so many times a day. The only time she sits still is to watch older kids and dream of the day she too will walk, talk and wear shoes. 

Ivy has very little interest in baby toys and too much interest in computers, phones, remotes and wires. She turns her nose up at baby food but devours rice, naan, meat balls, chicken, grapes and green beans. She insists on holding a spoon when she eats, even though she doesn't know what to do with it and uses her hands to shove food in her mouth. She may start talking soon but judging by her jabbering, I think she's convinced that she already speaks. This morning I asked her to say "mom" and she replied, "dadadadada." Well played, Ives. 

Ivy loves to laugh and often flashes big, two-teethed smiles to get a giggle out of Stephen or me. She chases Ollie and steals his toys, which, by they way, are a million times less cute and a million times more boring than her toys that she refuses to play with. She seems to enjoy making new friends as long as a parent is still in sight. 

Ivy only cries when she needs something, and even though she gets into a million different things a day, it's pretty amazing how she can keep herself entertained.  She plays for hours, always rediscovering objects, turning them over, hitting them, giggling about them, sharing them with her mom.

I don't know what I did before Ivy was around. I must have been so lonely without my tiny buddy. 

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Extreme Makeover: Dog Edition



Good pet owners probably groom their animals more than twice a year. Good pet owners also probably don't give their dogs cookies to keep them quiet. Because we've trained him so well, he's a total maniac when the groomer comes at him with scissors. So we got a prescription for sedatives. Today we doubled the dose, and, as you can imagine, hilarity ensued. He fell asleep sitting up, ran into a wall, and finally sprawled himself on the ground and had to be carried through the Paw Spa doors.

Ivy thinks that my laptop is the world's greatest toy that I'm not letting her have. She makes her opinion about this known. Frequently. So today I let her type a little something: 
Aaaaaaaaaaa3WS 2QQa W @Xq w. 
Maybe it's too early to tell, but I'm going to go ahead and assume she's a child prodigy. If not in poetry then in computer science because in the fifteen seconds she had her hands on the keyboard she used at least eight keyboard shortcuts I never knew existed.

Friday, October 19, 2012

3 weeks...

TGIF, can I get an amen? What a week. Being an undecided voter in a swing state is not as awesome as one might think. Turns out being in part responsible for picking the next leader of the free world is a little more stressful than picking the next American Idol. Speaking of reality television, in a completely shocking turn of events, Jef with one F and Emily of The Bachelorette have broken up. When you've finished sobbing enough to at least see through your tears, you can read my thoughts on the split here. But back to politics. The debate Tuesday night reminded me a lot of childhood when my siblings and I would play board games and argue about the rules and eventually someone would pull someone's hair. After that incredibly awkward ninety minutes I was ready to write in Pill Pulman in Independence Day on my ballot. So I was relieved to see the following clip from the Al Smith dinner and be reminded that there is some semblance of civility left between the these two men. I don't know where to find Obama's speech. Sorry.

Who are you voting for? I'd love to hear your rational reasons for doing so. If you tell me that Obama's an ignorant communist or Romney's a heartless flip-flopper I won't take you seriously. But I would really love to hear why you think one man would make a better leader than the other.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Too much candy's gonna make you sick

Our Home Owners Association discovered the secret to truly horrifying Holloween decorations. The trick is, the less the spookier. And by less I mean one. A single gravestone nestled in the corner bushes. No name, no death pun, just a skull and cross bones with the dates 1890-1921. I would think there was an actual 31 year old buried beneath the bushes if the marker weren't made of cardboard. I checked the other corner bushes and found no goofy spider webs, tissue paper pumpkins or over-sized spiders. Just the one cardboard gravestone partially hidden in the bushes. Guys, maybe it IS real, and the mass murderer who buried his (yes, I'm assuming it's a man) victim there ninety-one years ago knew that if he marked the grave with cardboard everyone would assume it was just a silly holiday decoration and he totally got away with it.
Happy Halloween?

Monday, October 15, 2012

Like Jeff Foxworthy but without the moustache

You know you're a good parent when:
-Your daughter laughs hysterically every time you say "poop"
-The onesie on your child is covered in food spills and you know you'll probably only change it if you decide to post a picture on Instagram.
-An unplugged ethernet cord has become an acceptable chew toy
-Your phone ""
-You give your baby an old remote control to fall asleep with because it soothes her.
-After giving your baby an old remote control and assuming she fell asleep you walk in ten minutes later to find her gnawing on her crib railing.

You know you're holding up well as a person when:
-You finally shower at 3:00 pm
-In your afternoon shower you shampoo your hair three times because you can't remember if you already have.
-You eat tortilla chips for lunch and chocolate chips for desert.
-You decide you're clever for having a chip themed food day when you actually didn't plan it and only realized the coincidence after the fact while blogging.

Sunday, October 14, 2012

A national security update

Good news everyone: Gerber is not participating in chemical warfare. Their baby food is just baby food and not liquid anthrax. Thank Heavens Ivy's banana breakfast was in a four ounce jar (.5 ounces over the limit) and subject to TSA testing or we'd all still be laying awake at night in fearful wonder, amirite?

Monday, October 8, 2012

the whites of your eyes

I don't drink, so I rarely find myself in a liquor store. That may be why I felt so lost in Fox's Wine and Beer as I stared at walls and walls of alcohol, trying to remember what the movies taught me about the difference between Merlot and Chardonnay. I wanted to make Beef Bourguinon and the recipe was insistent that normal grocery store cooking wine would not suffice. Instead, one must use a quality Pinot noir for a flavor base. Guess what. I couldn't find a single bottle that said "Pinot noir, best used in Beef Bourguinon, buy me now". Heck, I couldn't even find a bottle that said "Pinot noir". I read labels that said things like "Earthy undertones" which made me think of worms and "nutty aroma" which made me think of the Nutty Professor which made me think of Eddie Murphy which made me think of the movie 1,000 words which I recently watched on an airplane and is two hours of my life I will never get back and it was while I was in this black hole of confusion and regret that a store clerk asked if I needed any help. In one breath I blurted "I don't drink but I'm cooking and I need a Pinot noir and I don't know what that is please help me." He handed me a bottle and before he could present any other choices I paid and left.

I thought that was the end of my alcohol inadequacies for the day, but then it came time to add the wine to the beef and I had no idea how to open the bottle. Because we don't drink we don't own a corkscrew, and, as it turns out, they don't mess around with corking bottles. Those suckers are in there tight, and a corkscrew is absolutely necessary in accessing the Pinot noir needed for the Beef Bourguinon which was shaping up to be the most high maintenance meal ever. I was about to break the bottle open on the counter when stephen intervened. He googled my dilemma, watched a youtube video, then proceeded to use a wire hanger and a paring knife to uncork the stupid bottle. Fifteen minutes, a nearly injured husband and a massacred cork later, the wine met the meat.  

The point of this cautionary tale, because I know you were wondering, is that if you find yourself in need of a dinner party host, someone who knows fancy beverages and how to open them, do not call me. And as for the Buorguinon, next time I'm using Diet Coke.

Friday, October 5, 2012

Play us out, Keyboard Cat

Happy Weekend!

PS: Here's my TV review for the week:

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

puppy, baby, tomaeto, tomahto

My child thinks she's a dog.
Whenever Ollie growls, Ivy growls right back, and now she's started growling at every dog she sees.
She tries to get to the dog food any time she's on the floor.
She's gotten in trouble more than once for chewing on shoes.
If I'm not paying close enough attention, she'll nibble on a cracker, let Ollie have a few licks, then nibble on it again. I've learned to pay closer attention.
Last night for the first time in a long time, Ivy refused to sleep and screamed for what felt like an hour. After trying everything I could think of, I laid her down next to Ollie and she immediately stopped crying and fell asleep.

I just took the computer cord away from her and she growled at me.

Monday, October 1, 2012

when you're a stranger

Let me start by saying that we, Stephen, Ivy, Ollie and I really like Longmont, our small Colorado town. We're surrounded by warm, friendly people, trees whose leaves have just begun to turn, a handful of gourmet food shops, and parks on every corner.

All those things said, we're pretty sure that Longmont was originally founded by extraterrestrials.

As one drives into Longmont they are greeted by this:

I believe this is where the space ship originally landed and the sphere is still used to communicate with the mother ship. The feathers are for aesthetic purposes only, obviously.

Drive down main street and you'll see this:

This covers the entire side of a building. That cat is at least 6-feet. The "visitors" must of misunderstood what a business logo is meant to be. Sidebar: We took Ollie to Paws & Claws once and they shaved off his beard. Aliens aren't well-enough acquainted with the various grooming standards for dog breeds to run a grooming service.

And this:

This mural is on the side of a store. I don't know what they sell, but I'm pretty sure it's not dead Native-American Women. Space travelers are slightly racist.

Take a turn on 9th and you'll see this:

What I really should have photographed were the people walking in and out of this smoke shop. Proof that the unearthly species still dwells here. 

 Walk around McIntosh Lake and you'll run into this:

Two Alien hands entwined in the intergalactic symbol of love.

And finally, as one exits Longmont by way of Ken Pratt Boulevard (one of the two Ken Pratt Boulevards- aliens don't understand that there shouldn't be identical street names in one city), one finds the sacrificial alter:

These light up at night and turn an eerie green.

A quarter mile trail leading to the alter, lined with what must be grave markers.

Here's the overhead view (zoom in about four times):

If that's not a crop circle, I don't know what is.

Let's just hope they came in peace.

Friday, September 28, 2012

Happy Weekend

First, shout out to to Megan Geilman for designing my new header. It's great right? RIGHT?

Second, in case you thought I was kidding about Ivy's love for growling and electronic devices, behold:

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Watch out, Brazil, 2016

Longmont is big on dogs. On our runs Ollie and I are often greeted by other dogs confined to fenced yards. By greeted I mean snarled, barked and growled at. It happens so often that it really takes an extraordinary dog to catch my attention.The dog we saw yesterday was indeed extraordinary, to say the very least. This Yorkie ran back and forth behind a two foot fence, barking and jumping. He jumped so high that his hind legs reached above the fence. The two foot fence. He's a Yorkie, one of the smallest of small dogs. If he had any forward momentum he would clear the fence with no problem. Instead he jumps straight up, limbs sprawled, yelping all the way up and down. Too hard to visualize? Don't worry, I made you this picture:

Amazing, right?

Speaking of amazing, are you reading our TV blog? We have some amazing writers, and are always looking for more. If you're interested let me know. 

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Cause you can't, you won't and you don't stop

8 months!

Miss Ivy Lou works tirelessly to find anything that runs on electricity or is covered in dog slobber. We spend a good part of our days preventing her from putting these things in her mouth.

She growls whenever we growl at her and at Ollie all the time. She squeals with delight when she sees someone she knows, yells at the tv and laughs at herself after sneezing.  

Ivy loves grapes, shredded chicken and rice. She's not such a fan of enchilada sauce or choocolate ice cream

She finally fits into six month size clothing and will keep shoes on her feet for more than three seconds.

The other day she crawled out of my lap and Stephen said, "You know that's a metaphor  for our future, right?"Every day she becomes more of her own person, roaming all over the apartment, entertaining herself, laughing at who knows what, becoming decreasingly dependent on me. For all her new independence, I forget that she's still just a little baby. But yesterday she was playing in the living room while I was working on a project. Everything seemed fine until Ivy suddenly screamed. Not a tired whine or a hungry scowl, but a terrified scream. I ran and picked her up. She burried her face in my shoulder and sniffled, letting me hold her without resistance like she was just weeks old again. I don't know what happened and I hope whatever it was never hurts her again, but I was thankful for the five minute reminder that my baby still needs her mom.

Monday, September 24, 2012

Give it away give it away give it away give it away now

Larry is roughly fifty years old. He walked into the DMV wearing black jeans and a black Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt and was with his elderly parents. He saw the line, rolled his eyes, then turned to his elderly parents and said, "Do we have to do this today?" His white-haired parents gave no response and sat by the rest of us waiting for our number to be called. Larry slowly followed and muttered "This freaking government" but he didn't say freaking. He spent the next fifteen minutes spewing profanity to his parents' very visible annoyance. It was after his seventh round of "freaking government" that his mother turned to him and said, "Damnit, Larry, stop it. Don't borrow trouble." Larry grunted a few times but quit the anarchist rant and seemed to indeed stop borrowing trouble.
I think we could all do well to heed the wisdom of Larry's mom. Most often things are never so terrible. The DMV line moves faster than anticipated. The government isn't out to ruin our lives. The Red Hot Chili Peppers play on.

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Just some pictures of a baby in a hat

Wednesday, September 19, 2012


I'm trying to be one of those goal-setting/goal-accomplishing kind of people. I set two goals  for Fall: 1. Train for and run a half marathon, and 2. Learn Spanish. Because I'm a super efficient human being, I decided to do them SIMULTANEOUSLY, that is, listen to my Spanish language tutorials while running. This lasted three days. Running is hard. Learning is hard. Learning while running is terribly hard. Plus, to better absorb el espanol, it's best to repeat the phrases aloud. That made me the crazy lady muttering Spanish under her strained jogging breath running around Longmont. Longmont already has a few crazies and I didn't want to bump our fair city into "several crazies" territory. So it's for the good of my community that I decided to stick to one goal at a time. Solo uno goalo ahora, si? Si.

Monday, September 17, 2012

all roads lead back to

It's amazing that I'm 26 and I still don't really know how to take care of myself.
It was 2:00 and I felt death approaching. My head throbbed. My back ached. Then my stomach growled. I realized I needed food. So I ate a six inch sandwich in twelve seconds and it was the world's fastest recovery.
Yesterday I felt death approaching. My head throbbed. My back ached. Then my eye-lids drooped. I realized I needed sleep. I went to bed at a decent hour and woke up to the world's second fastest recovery.
When I start to get fussy Stephen usually asks, "Are you tired? Are you hungry?" So the good news is there is one adult in our household.

Friday, September 14, 2012

They went to University

Thanks for sharing, Britt.

Thursday, September 13, 2012

An ode to our upstairs neighbor

You bought a guitar
and you don't live far
from me and mine
and where we dine
it's electric I know
with an amp that can blow
your voice I can hear
and oft times I fear
the music you make
will very soon take
my mind and my smile
 and it's only a while
before I get loony
thanks to your tune-y.

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

we are young

Sometimes the internet is a terrible terrible place, like FaceBook before an election.
But sometimes the internet is supes awes sauce.
Bic made a pen especially for the ladies because their standard ball-points have always been far too masculine for our delicate hands, obviously.

Last week Wait Wait Don't Tell Me did a bit on the Amazon reviews for the new Cristal For Her Ball Pen, so I decided they might be worth reading. I was right. You can find them here, and while some of the statements may make my gentleman readers blush, there are some genuine comedic nuggets penned (punny) by these mostly anonymous reviewers. My favorite:

"Someone has answered my gentle prayers and FINALLY designed a pen that I can use all month long! I use it when I'm swimming, riding a horse, walking on the beach and doing yoga. It's comfortable, leak-proof, non-slip and it makes me feel so feminine and pretty! Since I've begun using these pens, men have found me more attractive and approchable. It has given me soft skin and manageable hair and it has really given me the self-esteem I needed to start a book club and flirt with the bag-boy at my local market. "


" I am a female AP and Multivariable Calculus teacher and I prefer to use ink when solving problems. I guess, not surprisingly, these pens cannot be used to do math problems more complicated than 5th grade level. When trying to find a derivative or definite integral, the ball point simply stopped working. I went back and added some numbers and it was fine. I progressed up to solving quadratic equations and the ball point started to "stick" so that I couldn't solve the problem completely. Imaginary numbers? HA! It was as if I had a pen with imaginary ink! As I moved into problems with Taylor Series, the pen started to get uncomfortably warm. By the time I tried to find the integral of a polar curve the pen burst into flames! I couldn't believe it! Luckily, I had on asbestos gloves by that time so there were no injuries. I couldn't even try it with a Multivariable problem!"

Thanks for making the internet great, strangers.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Did you think I would crumble?

Yesterday I ended a terrible relationship. It wasn't easy, but I know now that I'm better for it.
The cerulean nail polish was on sale for $1.00 and I'm a sucker, so obviously I was all over that. Within an hour of applying the polish it began to chip. I should have removed it immediately. I knew the chipping situation would only get worse. But I rationalized like we all do. "It's not that bad," I thought. "It's kind of edy," I said, knowing full well that my fingers looked like they were dipped in Smurf puke. I ignored the problem for weeks, hoping it would work itself out. Maybe enough hand washing and showers would simply make it go away. Maybe the trend would become chipped, faded, scraggly manicures. No dice. And so, on Sunday, September 9, I finally came to my senses and ended it. I'd had enough and I knew I could do better. But when I pulled out the remover and cotton swabs, suddenly it was "No, don't make me go, I love you , I'll be better..." and would not let go. It took a good ten minutes and half a bottle of the rubbing alcohol to get rid of what was left of our broken life together. But now I'm free, and eyeing a Wet N' Wild hot pink on sale at Target.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish I was a baller.

Ollie and I are training for a half marathon. Ollie is better at it than I am, probably because he has twice the number of legs. Today is a rest day, and while I was savoring the extra hour of sleep this morning, Ollie sat at the foot of the bed and growled. He looked at my running shoes. Looked at me. Back to the shoes. I don't know where he finds the drive.

Speaking of small animals, turns out having a mobile baby makes life about 147 times more complicated. It's unbelievable how quickly Ivy can scoot from one side of the room to the other. Is she interested in her stuffed animals and teething toys that we've strategically placed around the living room? No. Is she interested in the ethernet cable, blinds and the fireplace? Yes.

Speaking of strategy failure, Stephen taught me how to play chess and we've played every night for over a week now. I have yet to win. Suddenly my skills in Scrabble and Monopoly seem silly. I'm playing with, and losing to, the big boys now.

If you woke up this morning and said to yourself, "I really hope that today Meg blogs about three unrelated topics and feebly attempts to tie them together but ultimately fails," dreams do come true!

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Dr. Ivy Answers

Gretchen in Utah asks,
Dr. Ivy- Is it okay if babies eat things off the ground?

Dr. Ivy says,
"Is it okay for birds to eat seed? For cows to eat grass? For fish to eat fish food? Yes, yes, yes and yes. We eat what we can where we are, and I am often on the floor. That is not to say that all things on the ground taste good going down. And so I offer Dr. Ivy's Official Food Found on the Floor Review:

Soggy Cheerio: Just as good as dry cheerios without all mouth work! Whether the sogginess was my doing or the dog's is hard to say.

Long dark hair most likely belonging to the apartment's previous tenant: I struggled with this one, mulling it around until ultimately spitting it back out. A bit on the stringy side and no real flavor to report.

Science Diet puppy chow: Delicious!

Exposed wire: Unfortunately I didn't get to taste this one before Old Joy Kill Mom stopped me from putting it in my mouth. It looked really tasty though.

You're welcome."

Dr. Ivy

Dr. Ivy, The World's Greatest Expert

Friday, August 31, 2012

May your weekend be as fun as this

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Not the best Samaritan

I rode my bike past a number of fancy houses, many with pools facing the street. In one pool  was a pink blob. A large pink blob. On closer inspection I realized the pink blob was actually a bathing suit with arms, legs and a head. Arms, legs and a head that were floating but not moving. I wasn't sure what to do. I could yell "Hey, are you ok?", but I didn't want to offend the swimmer by suggesting that I thought she was dead.  I could call the police, but I figured the dispatcher would probably ask "Have you yelled 'hey are you ok?" and that would take me back to square one. I could throw a pebble over the fence and blame it on a squirrel if she responded or call and ambulance if she didn't, but the squirrel story didn't really seem believable. Or I could do what I ultimately ended up doing, which was stand and stare until I saw what looked like a foot moving and rode away.

Wednesday, August 29, 2012


This is Sam:

Sam is three years old. He enjoys Curious George, licking salt off french fries, and playing with puppies.

Sam calls Ivy "Baby Ivy", and last time we saw him he said, "Bye Baby Ivy". It was probably the most adorable thing I've ever heard.

Sam has cystinosis, an incredibly rare genetic disorder.for which there is treatment but no cure. 

This is Sam's brand new baby brother Lars:

Yesterday Sam and Lars's parents learned that Lars has cystinosis as well. 

If you know Stephen and Ashton, than you know that they work tirelessly all day to keep Sam and now Lars comfortable. It's no easy task. I believe the Jenkins family has visited the hospital more times in the past three years than most people visit in a lifetime. They've handled it all with grace and optimism, and I know they will continue to do so, but as you can imagine they want nothing more than a cure for their boys.

Because cystinosis is so rare, there is very little funding for research. The task then falls on the families of cystinosis patients to find ways to further research efforts. Here's where you can help.
Stephen and Ashton wrote this letter announcing "Sam's Hope for a Cure", the nonprofit organization they've created. You can visit the foundation website here and click the "How to Help" tab to make a donation. As the letter states, 100% of your donation will go to the Cystinosis Research Foundation and your gift is tax deductible. 

If your looking for a charitable cause to contribute to, or even if you aren't, I would strongly recommend helping Sam's Hope for a Cure.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

one of the beautiful people

In his infamous article "Why Women Aren't Funny," Cristopher Hitchens wrote, "Is there anything so utterly lacking in humor as a mother discussing her new child? She is unboreable on the subject."
Sorry, Chris, and those who may agree with the above statement, but Ivy is seven months today and I can't wait to gush. Deal with it.

Ivy is on her third outfit today. Between the baby food, the cheerios and her new found love for scooting across on the floor, clothes don't stand a chance. Neither does her face or hair, for that matter. I guess it's time to increase the weekly bath quota, even though baths are Ivy's most hated activity. Right now Ivy is on her tummy, trying to grab my computer. She occasionally rests her head on the floor and makes a singsongy noise then looks at me and giggles. She knows I think she's adorable and hilarious. She'll briefly hoist herself up on her knees, trying to get some crawling momentum. She sits by herself for a minute or two before reaching for a toy and toppling over. 

Ivy and Ollie have a healthy symbiotic relationship wherein one party drops cheerios and the other eats them. Although jealous of the attention Ivy constantly receives, Ollie seems to recognize that she has some sort of value.He shows this by giving her feet lots of kisses. Or he could be licking off the cheerio residue. Hard to say.

Ivy loves talking to people and listening to people talk. She babbles at strangers and laughs every time I answer the phone. She flashes her big, gummy smile at everybody and grins at the camera. She tries to put everything in her mouth, including my toes. She is always moving around, grabbing, and observing whatever environment she's in. Her two bottom teeth are very visible and are growing in a way that suggests there will be many orthodontist visits in our future. Her hair seems to multiply every day and she's still skinny though her cheek's are wider than the length of her head. 

It's hard to believe it's been seven months. It's even harder to believe our tiny, twitchy, sleepy newborn has transformed into a nearly crawling, constantly exploring, sweetly charming little human. 

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Dr. Ivy Answers

Amelia in Utah asks,
Dr. Ivy- What should I name my pet hamster? I was thinking of calling her Frank. What do you think?

Dr. Ivy says,
"To be Frank, don't do Frank. When's the last time you met a Frank and thought to yourself, 'Wow. This is an interesting person who I would like to get to know better'? That's what I thought. It's more likely that you met a Frank and thought to yourself 'I'm hungry for a hot dog.' We can do better. 

Of your hamster I know two things; 1. She is a female. 2. She has an exercise wheel. The metaphor is obvious. Like many females who have come before, your hamster runs the wheel of progress and equality. Sometimes it seems she is headed nowhere. Sometimes it seems no one notices. But like the great feminists Suffragettes in history, well all is said and done, your hamster's efforts, the turns of the wheel, make a difference for us all. It seems only appropriate, then, to name your new furry friend Millicent Fawcet after the leader of National Union of Women's Suffrage Societies. 
You're welcome, Amelia. You're welcome, Millicent."

Dr. Ivy

Dr. Ivy, The World's Greatest Expert

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Gone tomorrow

I did this to my hair.

I'm the one on the right.