Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Like when I want popcorn during monopoly

I'm the only person in America who has not read the Hunger Games, but I saw the movie. It may have been a mistake. I understand that the movie was made for fans of the book. But could they not throw a bone or two to those of us who are too lazy to read never got around to it  have other stuff going on. There's a lot I didn't understand. Like, what was with the hand signal? What's a district? Why are squirrels the new chicken? And WHY ARE PEOPLE NOT UPSET THAT CHILDREN ARE DYING? I think that maybe the events of last week, the French shootings and the attention brought to the Trayvon Martin case made a movie about children killing children a little hard to swallow. Or maybe it's because I have a child of my own and my maternal uptightness has really kicked in. Whatever the reason, I was bothered. I appreciate the creativity and imagination of both the author and the filmmakers. The story was engaging and the images fun to look at, though learning to zoom out couldn't hurt the cinematographer. And Jennifer Lawrence was really great, even if she played the exact character she did in Winter's Bone. But who was the bad guy? What perverse human being created a child-slaughter television competition? Who can I blame? It's fine to tell this story, but it needs to be darker. Children shouldn't die. Ever. And a world where that's ok needs to feel like a sick, twisted place, not the Land of Oz. Right? Am I way off here? Did I miss something? Do I need to read the book? Guide me, internet.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Maybe I'll eat cheesecake for lunch. Try and stop me.

It was about 10am and I was hungry. I opened the fridge and pulled out the pasta salad. A certain member of my family (hint: the father of my child) pulled a disgusted face and said, "Ew, for breakfast? Gross." That's not the first time my morning meal has been scoffed at. A roommate once saw me eating a bowl of peas in the am and nearly lost her own breakfast. Why? What is so wrong with nonbreakfast foods for breakfast? What's more innocent than peas? How is steak and eggs any better than pasta salad? Bacon better than a grilled cheese? Pancakes better than cold cuts? And a breakfast burrito? Give me a break. That's a burrito with eggs. Just because I prefer the savory side of life and tend to avoid syrup drenched cuisine, I'm considered a culinary heritic.

Yesterday was Ivy's two month mark.



 She's decided that she has lots of opinions about lots of different things, and that it's important to make
those opinions known to the world. Be it smiley babbles or red-face screams, she's a communicator. Also a cuddler:


Friday, March 23, 2012

Happy Friday

Time to party

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Who wants to take me to Cafe Rio?

Utah, we're coming for you. Tomorrow Ivy takes her first road trip. Am I nervous about having an infant in the car for 8 hours? Yes. Is it worth it to see the mountains and eat a j dawg again? Absolutely.

Remember how I'll be telling a story at the porch on March 30? Well so is Joanna Brooks. She's kind of a big deal. Such a big deal that the show sold out. But fear not, they've added another show at 9:00 that same night, and tickets for said later show go on sale tomorrow morning. You can purchase them here: http://utahporch.org/tickets.

Wednesday, March 21, 2012

I guess it's healthier than arguing

I owe Stephen approximately $315,863,724 from every time I've said "I'll pay you a thousand dollars to take the dog outside" or "twenty dollars if you change Ivy's diaper".
Good thing this blog is so lucrative, am I right, my 51 followers?

Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Dr. Ivy Answers (Again)

Allyson in Arizona asks,
Dr. Ivy - how do I know when to use "beside" and "besides"? Also, how do you fit it all into a day?


Dr. Ivy says,
"To answer your first question, find the highest point in your field of vision. Is it a building? Is it a mountain? Is it a tree? Whatever it is, climb to the top of it. Lick the index finger on your right hand and hold it in the air. You're testing the wind. If the wind is blowing eastward, the answer is 'beside'. If the wind is blowing westward, say 'besides'.
Now for your second question: I'll admit, there was a time when I was completely overwhelmed with my demanding schedule. Between napping, playing, cooing, eating and diaper changes, it seemed there just weren't enough hours in the day to get it all done. But then I got myself a day planner. It's like I always say, a baby girl is nothing without her day planner.  I'm fastidious about writing each day's schedule, and now I know exactly where I need to be and when. 8-10, crib. 10-10:15, snack. 10:15-11:00, swing, etc. I'm now a happier, more productive infant, rarely stressed by the things I need to accomplish each day."

Love,
Dr. Ivy

Dr. Ivy, The World's Most Trusted Expert


Monday, March 19, 2012

worth a thousand words, none of them good

Ok. It's time I address this.
Those of you of the same religious affiliation as presidential hopeful Mitt Romney and myself may have noticed a familiar face in your For The Strength of Youth pamphlet or Relief Society/Priesthood manual. Yes, that's me posing with an elderly woman. No, I don't "go about radiating sunshine, developing happiness and lifting up thos who are discouraged, and bringing joy and comfort to those who are in distress" often as the caption would have you believe. No, I don't weigh 300 pounds as my chin would have you believe. No, I didn't think the photographer was serious when she told me there was a chance the photo would be used more than once. Yes, I should have taken her seriously since the photo has now appeared in two issues of the Ensign, the Liahona and the aforementioned manuals. No, I am not a fan of that photo. And no, I don't say that like a girl who "hates" her yearbook photo and tells all her friends it's the "worst photo ever" because she knows she looks smokin' hott and wants all the high school boys to look it up and swoon. This photo is anything but smokin' hott. It's smokin' terrible. And why The Official Photo Selector for Churchy Matters decides to use it over and over will forever be my life's greatest mystery. Does this feel like a back door brag post? I promise it's not. Because I really hate that photo. I hate that it looks like I hadn't brushed my hair in years. I hate that I wore such an unflattering top. I hate that my chin is so chinny. So please, please, please do NOT tell me that it's a cute photo. Because if that's me looking cute, well, then there's really no hope.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Happy Birthday, Grandma Mary!





Love,
Ivy and Fam

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Skip this post if you find baby updates boring

It's difficult to really capture what Ivy looks like in photographs. Probably because I don't really know what I'm doing and because the camera freaks her out. This picture is the closest we've come to accuracy:

Baby Ivy, 7 weeks old

What you can tell from the above: Her hair has a hint of red. Like mine. Her hair dries in a mohawk. Unlike mie. She is alert. She spents most of her waking hours looking around, taking it all in. Her eyes are blue. Very very blue. She has a skin tag on her left ear. It will get removed, eventually. She enjoys lounging on her boppy pillow. Who wouldn't, amirite?

What you can't tell from the above: She's smiley. Something I have yet to catch with the camera because the camera makes her scowl. Like this:


She's discovered her voice and loves using it. Yesterday she learned how to yell. Not cry, just yell. Like she has very important things to declare. As I write this she's on the ground, kicking, talking to one of those toy hangy things and grabbing at the toys. She is incredibly long. Her feet nearly dangle off the edge of her swing and she's not even two months old yet. She's also too tall for some of her 0-3 month outfits. She is not a fan of baths, most likely because I'm not bathing her correctly. She loves being in motion. Car rides and walks are our favorite shared past times. She's being very considerate with her sleeping habits, waking up only once and falling immediately back to sleep after eating, then waking for the day around 8. Seriously. It's awesome. She comes alive at night, much like her parents in our younger college days. 10-12 pm is her happiest, most active time. A comfy blanket, binky and some snuggling seem to solve most of her problems. When taking care of business, she looks at me sideways and smirks. It's my cue for a diaper change.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Dr. Ivy Answers (verb, not noun)

Amelia in Swizterland asks,
Dr. Ivy, what should I do after graduation? 

Dr. Ivy says,
"You should exit the auditorium. Find your family, if they plan on attending. Then, turn in the gown that you will rent. You're going to rent a gown, right? Rent your gown. Do not buy. It might seem fun and sentimental to have your very own to keep forever, but come June you will serious regret it. Those things weigh like 400 pounds and you'll have to lug it around with you to every new place that you live. And you for sure won't want to pull it out and wear it ever, because let's face it, Kate Moss would look morbidly obese in one of those tents. If you really want a keepsake, order one of those "2012" keychains with a tassle attached. It's much more portable, and then when you finally realize that neither you nor anyone else really cares when you graduated, you won't feel guilty throwing it away because you only spent $7.00 and not $300,000 or however much graduation gowns cost.
After you turn in your rented gown, go to dinner or something. You've earned it.
Oh wait, did you mean like what career you should seek after graduation? Shoot, I don't know. I'm just a baby."

Love,
Dr. Ivy


Dr. Ivy, The World's Most Trusted Expert



Tuesday, March 13, 2012

I made it work, Tim G.

I crafted! I'm crafty!

Obvs, I still need to hem the bottom. But that could take another month.

The dress looks better if you squint. Also, whatever you do, do not turn the dress inside out. It's total chaos. My guess is that Ivy will wear the dress for one minute before the  haphazard seams start to drive her bananas and we have a total infant meltdown on our hands. Don't worry, I'll take 45 pictures in those 60 seconds. #the camera is my crack cocaine.
This beast was my second project of the week. The first was cutting my own bangs. They, too, look better if you squint.
I think next time I'll purchase an actual textile pattern instead of just wingin' it from some super vague instructions off the World Wide Web.

Speaking of internets, is it just me, or are the blogger captchas getting out of control? Like, 27 characters out of control. Sometimes I'll go to leave a comment but the captcha is so crazy that all I can do is give up and walk away. It's not like those letters and numbers are easy to read. Is it an "L", or a "1"? Sometimes I fail the captchas, which makes me wonder if I'm really a spam robot and no one ever told me. #time for my lunch of scrap metal and brains. #just kidding. #OR AM I? #om nom nom.

Monday, March 12, 2012

your favorite and mine...

And now it's time for a very special edition of Ask Dr. Ivy


Go ahead, ask her anything. Like...

Dr Ivy, what's the secret to happiness?
Dr. Ivy says, "19 hours of sleep a day and a good burp after every meal."

Dr. Ivy, what do you think about Iran?
Dr. Ivy says, "Where did you run to?"
That's a funny joke, Dr. Ivy.
Dr. Ivy says, "I know."

She's waiting for your queries.

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Special crisis, Oliver's lament


Ollie had a good run as the favorite child. He spent an entire year being our baby and receiving all the attention he constantly demanded.
But now we have an actual baby and it' seems difficult for Ollie to understand.
He's really great with Ivy, very gentle and loving. It's Stephen and I that he resents. In fact he's growling at me as I type.
He's clingy. Literally. When we walk past he uses his front paws to grab onto our legs while we drag him down the hall. It would be hilarious and cute if I wasn't always holding a baby while he did it.
He's delusional. He spent ten minutes barking at a cardboard box last night before shredding it to a hundred pieces.
He's needy. He insists on being taken outside, then instead of taking care of potty business, he just looks up at me, his stare conveying, "Remember this? When it was just you and me? Gone are the days."
Before you feel too sorry for him and  break into our apartment to whisk him away to a better home, know that he gets two bowls of food a day plus treats, a walk every day, plenty of toys and a comfy bed to sleep on each night. He's fine.

In other news, Babykins is 6 weeks old today:

Wednesday, March 7, 2012

legumes, eyewear and politics

I earned a college degree. So does that mean that every guess I make is an educated guess? Yes? Wonderful. I plan to start wearing a monocle. I will spend my time walking into rooms where people are guessing things. These guessing people will spot me in my monocle and say, "Mr. Peanut?" and I'll say "No. It's me. Meg the Educated." And then they'll sigh with relief that FINALLY someone knows what they're doing. Then I'll declare, "In my best, most educated guess, I'd say there are three apples in that basket" and even if there are four apples in the basket they'll totally believe me because I'm Meg the Educated. I'll do all of this with a british accent because the brits are just plain smarter. If you don't believe me, watch the current season of America's Next Top Model, Cycle 479, BRITISH INVASION. CAPS LOCK IS FUN. But guys, here's the thing....I only read part of The Grapes of Wrath. I read the Wikipedia page before writing my essay. And I sure as H E double hockey sticks did not read Canterbury Tales. Am I  a fraud? Are my guesses uneducated? Should I return the monocle?
Speaking of education or lack thereof, BYU seems to think that as soon as we graduate we earn tons of money. Enough money that we can spare some and donate to the Alumni fund. I told the latest student volunteer to call that BYU is wrong in thinking so, and to call back in five years. I also told her that I never read The Grapes of Wrath and that the Alumni Association probably doesn't want the likes of me in their midst. That's a lie. I didn't tell her that, but for honesty's sake I should have. Anyway, Stephen, we have five years to become super wealthy. And Republican . Is that what happens with great wealth? Republicanism? As of right now I'm undeclared, like my major most of college. See, it's a circular blog post.
BYU also seems to think that upon graduation I suddenly care about their athletic events and send 67 emails everyday about the next game. But that's a different rant post.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

on numbers and diapers, or numbering diapers

Yesterday Stephen read my blog and declared, "Cop out blog." And he was correct. But at least I wrote words instead of just linking to a video of a Downton Abbey rap. Or maybe that would have been better?
The problem is that I spent most of yesterday doing taxes, and it's hard to really feel inspired after so much math (accountants, I don't mean no disrespect, I'm sure you write sonnets about deductions and credits every day when you return home from work.) I spent the rest of the day tending to poop related matters (see: dog, baby). Does that sound complainy? I hope not. I don't want to be all woe is me about motherhood because I actually feel very woohoo! is me. Mothering Ivy becomes more enjoyable every day. Even changing diapers is a delight, because she usually flashes a smile once she's fresh and clean again. I honestly have never felt happier than when Ivy smiles at me. Again, it's one of those "big whoop your baby has normal human responses" that I would think to myself if reading about another child, but when it's my own child it feels so profound. She was once nothing more than a microscopic speck that caused me to toss my cookies upwards of four times a day. And now she's a cuddly, smiley, nine pounds of real human. That's a total miracle, right?

Monday, March 5, 2012

How many baby pictures is too many baby pictures?


For those keeping track at home, Ivy is in the 26th percentile for weight and the 96th percentile for height. She is her father's daughter.