Sunday, January 30, 2011

O&R Sunday styles.

Any pediatrician who hands me his cell number and tells me he'll meet me in the office on a Sunday or after hours to check my baby girl is good in my book.

It was 40 today. Heatwave. Ice storm tomorrow.

Went to the liquor store. Clerk: you havin' a wine tastin' party? Me: Nope. And scene.

Bronchialitis sucks. I think it may finally be exiting the house but not before two doctors visits and lots and lots of lost sleep.

Shopped for birthday duds today. Hard to do when you don't know what plans are. Shall I dress up? Dress normally? What if I am in a cocktail dress in a dive bar? Guess what. It's my birthday. Does. Not. Matter.

Love me some Jillian workouts. Love them even more with a 2 year old following along. Dare you not to laugh out loud while he does jumping jacks.

Magic Salmon seasoning. Try it. Trust me.

Say one or two for my dear friend over at the Monrohhh's. She's got twins cookin' and those little buggers thought about making an early exit. Too early.

Watch this. You're welcome.

The Best part? Birthday duds. New or old.

Working' on it...

There wasn't much sleep at the Best part house this weekend. Working on some O&R and some other stuff. Until then.... Me and my precious peanut who has hopefully finally turned a corner with this damn bronchialitis.





The Best part? February is here. Almost.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Obsess much?

I wanted a digital scale. I thought it would be more accurate. More definite. I am pretty sure I will regret it.

I didn't get a video monitor because I didn't want to spend hours on end staring at the baby. Watching his chest move. Making sure he wasn't swallowing that evil crib bumper. I should have never started Facebook. Checking email is one of the first five things I do every morning. I am not nearly that important. I have no substance addictions. I talk about booze a lot. It's mostly just talk.

So. The scale. Did you know that after lunch i weighed four tenths of a pound more? I had a lean cuisine pizza, jello, and water. Did you know that after my workout after lunch I weighed 1.4 pounds less than I did after lunch?

You can jump on a regular scale, with the adjustable dial and know how much you weigh 'ish'. Used to only jump on first thing in the morning. When everyone is skinniest. Now I know exactly how much my jeans weigh. Unfortunately they don't weigh ten pounds.

Anyway. This will either prove to be a fantastic weight loss tool or you will learn lots of useless knowledge about how much I gain before and after lunch.

The Best part? At least it's not another social networking addiction.






A sucker for breakfast.

This morning. He peed. On the big boy potty. You should read the previous post before you continue with this one (if you missed out yesterday).

He sat his skinny ass in the potty. Actually he rotated between two little potties. The Ikea one and a 'normal' one. He voted against the Swedes and used the traditional one. I was certain while he decided where to sit he was going to pee all over the bathroom.

Anyway. It's the second time he's ever actually 'done it'. Maybe he reads the blog. Or maybe things I blog about come true! What if they do.... (cue the Wayne's World style fantasy music)... O&R Fantasy Styles...

I never win the lottery. Never really won anything and I am ok with that. Ok thats not entirely true. In 1996 I entered a contest in my 'Swimmer's World' magazine. I won a trip to the Olympic swimming trials. Got to give a medal too. They were in the gorgeous and exciting city of Indianapolis. It's beautiful there in January. Chances are pretty good I was the only one who entered.

10 pounds has never fallen off of me. Ever. Except when I have given birth. It's not the same.

Currently those are the only things lacking in my life. Millions of dollars (don't want for much but a girl can dream, right?) and 10 pounds. Well the 10 aren't lacking, rather hanging around. So thats pretty good. Really good. Just thought if I blogged today about something that doesn't happen, maybe it would. Like the potty victory. Of course that would require buying a lottery ticket. Maybe that's the problem.

On a totally unrelated note. I don't know many babies who would let you suck out their noses while they sleep and stay asleep. Just saying.

The Best part? He did it! He is capable!




Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Observations & Revelations

Finding out Oprah's your Aunt. That's right, her half sister has two kids. "Ummm nice to meet you Aunt O! I turned 16 five years ago! Do I get a car?"

Snow. Melting.

Gonna snow more tomorrow. Damn.

My brother (the trainer) says I shouldn't have carbs after 3pm. That includes wine. Clearly, he's delusional.

Pumping at work is the new smoke break. What's cool is I get to walk by my boss every time. With a giant smile on my face.

Bronchialitis. Not hot. Not cool at all. Especially on a 3 month old. Poor Peanut.

Hate going to the doctor and having them say 'Yep, she's sick. Nothing we can do. Oh, and it might get worse before it gets better.'. Cheers.

Warm mist humidifier. Loading her feet with Vick's. Not sure why. Everyone just says to do it. Which bridge? Oh, that one. Ok.

The husband has decided to lose his baby weight too and get back in shape. Love having extra motivation. Hate that he lost 10 pounds just thinking about working out.

If you give a boy a toy hammer, he will hammer. Every. Where.

I will never, ever, ever, understand why anyone would want to run, sit, jump and play in a poopy diaper. Bribes are not working to get his skinny ass on the toilet.

I am over American Idol. Perhaps I have finally outgrown it. Is that a step closer to 30 and old? I take it back then.

I despise making grocery lists.

My camera flash broke. New one comes tomorrow. Thank God.

The Best part? Pink's 'Raise your Glass' on the treadmill.




















Sunday, January 23, 2011

Over it.

I took it for granted. Warm weather. WarmER weather. When the trees had leaves and the grass was green. When I thought it was too hot for my pregnant self to hang outside with my toddler. When the grill wasn't covered by a cover and inches of snow. I took it for granted.

I would give just about anything for a walk to the park. To run around the yard with Cannon. I fantasize about sitting on the back deck and refilling the water table or digging holes in the dirt. I don't Iike dirt and I would love to dig in it. We can't even see earth.

I really don't like snow. Unless I am on a lift or sitting around a fire in a lodge, I don't like snow. Sledding (not 'sled riding') is fun for a few minutes. And will probably be more fun when my kids are excited about it and don't mind 'snow on my boots Mommy!'. So it can melt. I am fine with that.

I am ready for blue skies that don't bring -3.5 degree temps. I have cabin fever. My house is a petri dish. I am remembering fondly the 4 days this season when Cannon didn't have a cold. I am closely monitoring my tiny 3 month old who has her brother's cold. I am sure we will all get it. Petri dish.

I am ready for summer salads and grilled chicken. Ready to switch back to white. Ready for sunsets after 7pm. Ready for a new swing set to go up. I am ready to eat on patios and not turn my headlights on when driving at 4:30. I am ready for pedicures for a reason and clothes I didn't get to wear last spring. I am ready for zoo picnics and after dinner walks. I am ready for baseball. I am ready for a double jogger and outdoor sweating instead of Jillian on the DVR. I am ready for tank tops. Not under sweaters. Just saying.

February will be even more gray. It always is. But. It brings a celebration. Of a new year. A new decade. New adventures. New challenges. Same wonderful life. Can't complain about February. So hurry up. And March, don't be a stranger either.

I officially have the winter doldrums.

The Best part? At least I have cute coats to bundle up in.

And just so you know, you can expect a similar post in September. How i can't wait for snow. And cold. And red.

Happy Monday kids.




Saturday, January 22, 2011

O & R: Slow Sunday

I am pretty sure the dog hasn't pooped since Thursday. See there's 6 inches of snow on the ground and the temperature is zero. I wouldn't either. He did however, eat a brown crayon today.

Cannon had his first cheese bagel this weekend. If you are familiar with a certain Indiana Epsilon chapter, this should make you smile.

Every time it gets this effing cold I remember why I don't want to live somewhere where its any colder. I feel the same way in August when it's 105.

I slept on my stomach for an hour last night for the first time in a year. It. Was. Wonderful. Until my back started to hurt.

It's that back pain that is likely the result of my midsection being mush and my abs really just a slight shadow of their former selves. Jillian 6 Weeks to 6 Pack on demand today. Swear.

Sundays were more peaceful before. You know, when Monday didn't mean work.

I am going to learn how to make hair bows. That's right. I said it. Craft. Y. I have the headbands, and the flowers (which she hates cause they droop in her eyes). So I am going to make big, obnoxious, colorful, bows to go on the headbands I already have. You will soon be able to call me Martha. Or Kelly.

The Pampers pictures came. They did not disappoint. Look for the billboards soon on your local highway.

Mark Zuckerburg may be a gazillionaire but he is not cool. Social Network.

The Best part? 3 months old. 9 hours straight.

Do... Do... DOOOOOO!!!!

The much anticipated.  Much hyped.  Much talked about.  Pampers photo shoot pictures.  Everyone together now.  Awwww...









The Best part?  Do I even have to say it?

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

... playa...

Not like Spanish for 'beach' playa. Like 'play on playa' gantsa styles. I am so street.


Every six months or so I decide to be a better grocery shopper. Harder than it seems. See I was introduced to the Grocery Game by my friend Julie who is an expert. I strive to be half as good as her at playing the game.


Anyway. The idea is that you buy things when they are cheapest. Using coupons and store sales. It's not rocket science but it is slightly involved.


So I head to the store this morning (yes, that means we are all dressed by 9) with my coupons and my list. Stick to the list dammit. Stick to the list. I selected a store that I am not familiar with (mistake #1) because it's super nice and I thought it would be fun to take a tour. You do not tour a grocery store with a 2 year old and 3 month old (what?!??!) in tow. Stupid. Plus at the fancy store you will want to stray from the list. Desperately.


The list is specific. This is on sale 10/10$. Buy two and use the 1$ off 2 coupon and you get two for the price of one. Get it? I am terrible at math and I get it so you should too.


So I did my shopping. I turned around and went back a dozen times, easily. Cannon ate an entire cookie and a push pop. He also rode in one of those car/cart things. It's like maneuvering a Mac truck through a china shop. And with E in her seat in the front of the cart, I couldn't see around her. I only ran into two people and one small display. Eggs. Kidding. Not the eggs.


So, I would give myself a 'B'. Fine. A 'B-'. I bought one thing that wasn't on the list. Everyone needs organic fruit roll ups. Right? Right.


So. It's a work in progress. I spent $53 and saved $40. A lot of that is store sale, only a few coupons. Not bad. Came home with strip steaks. Turkey breasts. Pasta. Toothpaste. All random stuff. But random stuff we will use. If I remember I bought it.


The Best part? I was always a 'B' student. Except when it came to math.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

up for air

Whew. Did it. Happy Friday kids. Not you. Me.

My feet are up and my wine is cold. I survived my first 'week' back at work. I didn't cry. My clothes matched. My kids were fed and clothed at school. I had no spit up on my shoulders. I pumped in peace. Did I mention I didn't cry?

I did. Like a baby when I left Cannon the first time. No tears this time.

So it wasn't bad. But. I don't think I could do it every day. I really don't. I know women (a lot of my loyals) do it every day. And I did do it everyday with just one. I went part time because I wanted to. Because I didn't like full-time and because I could. Not because I couldn't handle it. But that was with one kiddo. When we had more time than we knew what to do with and when we were young (gonna be 30 remember?). This time I honestly don't think I could handle it. I bow to those of you who do.

I am tired. It was only two days and I am tired. I will stop rubbing it in. I will just say that full-time help would be in order if I went back full-time. And. LBS (Let's Be Serious, memorize it, I won't tell you again) I am basically working for peanuts.

So. Highlights and lowlights.

My new boots are hot. Both sexy and hot, like temperature hot. As in if you're wearing cashmere on top and the boots up to your knees on the bottom you will sweat. In the winter. A lesson I didn't learn until Tuesday, despite wearing the boots Monday and sweating.

Pumping in an empty office with no windows is similar to pumping next to your sleeping husband at 4am only with less snoring. Its lonely and boring.
However, I suppose the alternative is inviting a coworker in to check out the sucker machine.

When you get paged while pumping its difficult to immediately respond.

The hour between when I walk in the door and the kids go to bed is similar to a fire drill. Chaos.

The sleeping in continues for a certain 2 year old. It will probably end tomorrow when I can sleep in and enjoy it.

Dinner after 8 at night sucks. Primarily cause I'm so hungry I can't stop eating.

I am way behind on Facebook. A fact that thrills my Mom and certainly has some people considering putting out an APB for me.

A shooting made my day today. Nope, I am not a cop.

Cannon checked on his big sister twice each day. He is going to be an amazing big brother. He already is.

I didn't forget how to work. I may have forgotten a few details. Not sweating it (unless I am in the aforementioned boots).

So there you have it. The deets. The much anticipated anticlimactic details of the first week back.

Whew.

The Best part? Home with my kiddos tomorrow! Quite possibly in pj's all day. Woo. Hoo.

Oh and 'like' me on Facebook! Wouldn't that be fun! Button on the top right. Kisses.










Friday, January 14, 2011

Miracles do happen...

Our two year old slept until 9:30 today. Our two year old who has never slept past 7:30 save a rare occasion when he misses a nap, slept until 9:30. When I woke him up.

We had a playdate and I still was hoping for an afternoon nap despite the 14 hours of sleep.

When I called my husband to tell him that the stars had aligned or that the world was ending or that he was for sure sick or something, he says to me, 'Good. Get some stuff done... Take a shower...' While I know he said it cause I regularly mention (read: complain) how I don't shower until nap-time, there's just something about your husband telling you to shower...

I did shower.

The Best part? The super sleeper is napping. :)



Thursday, January 13, 2011

Picture This

You know those days where you leave the house with half your closet scattered around your bedroom and bathroom?  The days you know that your husband will tread lightly if he sees the wardrobe crisis first hand?  Emerson had her first wardrobe crisis today.

A friend suggested I send pictures of the kids to this local photographer to be part of a Pampers photo shoot.  I didn't really think anything of it.  Clearly my kids are the most beautiful on the planet.  I'm their Mom.  I am supposed to think, say, shout that from the rooftops.  They are. 

It's not really my thing.

I put pictures on facebook and email pictures to family and occassionally to friends.  I expect my parents to 'ooohh' and 'ahhh' over their grandkids.  But I keep my 'aren't my kids amazing, brilliant, beautiful' conversations to myself or have them with the person who helped me create them.  If Cannon does something amazing I call my better half to tell him.  He too beleives we have created the most perfect children.  I don't really tell anyone else and I keep it off the blog because I figure no one cares.  Really because I can only read so many blogs about who pooped, smiled, recited the presidents, and walked super early before I vomit. 

So I emailed four pictures, two of each kiddo, that I took, to a local photographer.  Didn't think anything else of or about it because again, it's not my thing. 

Until the phone rang. 

 They wanted her!  My little Emerson!  Said Cannon was too old.  So I get the call on Saturday and they wanted us today. 

I was fairly certain I was going to be one of 700 moms in a hotel banquet room with a crying baby.  I was fairly certain it would make me sweat.  I was fairly certain they would try to sell me a timeshare while I was there.  I was fairly certain they would want to spray tan her or put fake eyelashes on (I watch Toddlers and Tiaras, I know how it works).  I was fairly certain this wasn't for real.

But what if it was?

The email asked that we bring a solid colored tshirt for our child to wear.  Babies don't wear tshirts.  So I dug around last night for a white onesie without a poop stain on it.  Easier said than done around here.  Judge away. 

But what should she wear on top of the onesie, you know, if this was for real.  Perhaps the fact that it was a DIAPER photo shoot escaped me.  I tore through her closet.  First I was going to put her in this adorable plaid jumper with a big matching flower and tights and fancy pants.  Then I thought they'd think I was one of those crazy moms who over-does everything.  Then I thought I would put her in a sleeper.  A day sleeper.  You know, a cozy two month old outfit with cute flowers.  I'd put a little bow in her hair once we got inside, after I got the monogrammed hat off.  Then I decided that would look like I didn't care enough.  So finally I decided to put her in what she wore yesterday.  Don't lie.  You've done it.  Gone somewhere one day and another place the next and decided that what you had on yesterday was perfect. 

I settled on light pink pants and a matching kimono style top with a pink bow.  Done.  Oh and socks.  She has no shoes that fit and really, does a 2 month old need shoes?  The answer is 'no'.

Guess what.  It was for real.  Downtown, an old firehouse turned photography studio.  He was the real deal.  She was precious, amazing, perfect.  I have never ever seen more beautiful pictures.  They are amazing.  Not just because my baby is perfect, this  photographer is unbelieveable.  I've never seen a setup like it.  A.mazing.  Said that already, I know.

So she smiled and cooed and laughed in her Pampers Sensitive.  She worked it. 

I pimped out my baby and she was a star.  So, now the question becomes, will she land on the diaper box?  And if she does will they tell me or will I just happen to notice at Walmart when I'm buying Luvs cause they're cheaper?

So if nothing else I get a copy of the pictures which I will immediately share and perhaps purchase a billboard to display them on.  And if Pampers choses her she'll be on some online campagin or something.  Then maybe we graduate to bigger and better things.  Who needs a job when I can pimp my baby part time?  (Still going back to work on Monday)

I hope this doesn't land her in rehab someday. 

The Best part?  No one asked me to buy a timeshare in St. Pete Beach.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

If we lived in Europe...

It flew. I don't think 12 weeks could have gone any faster. That's right. I go back to work on Monday. To be clear 'back to work' for me means work on Monday and Tuesday and home the rest of the week. Still. It flew.

So I go back with mixed emotions. Let's leave out what I do for a living, how I feel about my job and what I plan on doing for the rest of my life. All you need to know is that I don't have a desk job and I am still nursing.

By 'I don't have a desk job' I mean that chances are I will find myself in some interesting situations and have to step away for fear of spraying everyone around me. Thankfully the laws protect us milk makers. I also usually work with a partner. All of those partners are male. Fortunately most of them are dads and have known me for long enough that they won't care. The ones without kids will be way more embarrassed than I am.

So, two days a week I will have to function and get dressed before 2pm. My social networking time will be impacted fo sho. I will have to be a little more together at least two days a week. I did work full-time when I went back to work after Cannon was born. I wanted to say that I tried. I did. It just wasn't for me. I was never 100% anywhere. I wasn't a good employee because I was worrying about stuff at home and I wasn't a good wife and mom because I was worried about work. Too much for me.

So I go back part time.

Emerson will go to school with her big brother who will no doubt begin his role as 'big brother' and check in on her regularly.

It's going to be easier than when I dropped Cannon off for the first time. In fact, Dan came with me that first time because he knew I would be a mess. I was. I was leaving my precious baby with a complete stranger. Plus there were other babies in there too! How on earth will he survive without someones undivided attention? Well he did. In fact, he thrives there. So much so that it's really really important to me that he spend at least two days a week there, with other kids, learning things, growing. Whether I am home or not. I know I will feel the same about BGB. Still, she's only 12 weeks old.

Europe understands motherhood. They do it better. I bet if American women got a year of maternity leave more of us would go back to work. Just saying.

So here are the pro's of going back:

Showering before lunch.

I will spend 16 hours a week doing something other than diapers, Mickey Mouse, and matchbox cars.

My brain needs the work.

I will make some money that will immediately be eaten up by the cost of super expensive fancy daycare. With perhaps a tad leftover for a bit of a car payment or dinner out. Priorities.

Adult interaction.

Two days away from toddler man poops.

Cons:

Showering before lunch.

Putting on real clothes that in all likelihood will be snug.

Adult interaction. My kids agree with everything I say and even if they don't it doesn't matter. They can't fire me.

No more pj Mondays or Tuesdays. I vow to make up for it the rest of the week.

I've done the working mama thing. I've done the non-working mama thing. I think for now I'll settle for the part time working mama thing.

The Best part? Monday is my Monday and Tuesday is my Friday.

Observations and Revelations: the week before I go back

Kids are amazingly awesome and gross. Cannon and I were laying in his bed the other night, in the dark, scratching backs and getting ready to say goodnight. He sits up, looks at me, takes my face in his hands and says 'Mommy, you are the best!'. Then he wiped a booger on my face. On my face.


Three nights dog puke free. He is moving up on my list. Slowly.


Tomorrow morning we have an adventure. It involves me being 'that mom' and I have no idea what I am getting myself into. I promise to be less cryptic tomorrow.


Some of the bloggers I follow stalk have created a new blog to offer 'assvice'. Their writing is almost as good as mine and you will most likely laugh with them too. Check it.


If you go to the grocery store IN the snowstorm instead of BEFORE there will be plenty of milk, bread, and Twinkies and no nut jobs panicking to work around.


I plan on building a garage or something out of a giant boot box to entertain a two year old today. I am not an eagle scout. This could be amazing.


Leftover spaghetti for dinner tonight. Wasn't that good the first time. I just cant get behind whole grain pasta. I try. Every time. I just don't like it.


Although they crunch, carrots are a poor substitution for my nighttime Wheat Thin addiction.


There is enough snow that the dog has forgotten how to go to the yard to do his biz... So he pees on the deck. Awesome.


Post to come on returning to work.  Get excited.  Yes, you read it right, she's 12 weeks.  Stop. the. clock.  Please!


The Best part?  Snowed in.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Observations and Revelations

If there is no wine in the house, I don't drink. Interesting concept. Perhaps a philosophy I should adopt for sweets and snacks.

Speaking of snacks, they must put crack in Wheat Thins.

As a story teller, I am in love with Ted Williams (google it if you're living under a rock). A God given talent he took for granted and threw away on drugs and booze and he gets a second chance. His smile radiates gratitude and who doesn't deserve a second chance? Note: I will turn on him just as fast as I fell in love with him if he screws it up again and throws away what's been handed to him.

50 days until the big birthday. Last year someone asked me how old I was turning and I told HIM 29. He scoffed and said 'for the fourth time?'. Dude who asked is 46. Not kidding.

I digress.

I am not scared, not stressed. I do feel that without a '2' on the beginning of my age I am officially an adult. As though my husband, two children and minivan don't already say that. Or scream it.

You should know that my birthday prior to around 25 or so was a national holiday and I am considering reinstating the holiday this year in honor of the big 3-0. February might be my month. Brace yourselves.

My friend Meggie has dubbed this month Blanduary. I think its totally accurate. I found myself day dreaming at 5am about playing in the backyard, warm weather, and walking somewhere other than the treadmill which is now in the unfinished part of the basement surrounded by clothes, baby stuff, christmas decorations, and all things that have no home. February will be even worse. Another reason to celebrate me for the month.

Flying tomorrow for the first time since the 'new' screenings started. Don't look for any headlines on me. I do not plan on staging any sit ins or protests. Do whatever you want to me. If it will keep me and my family safe. I. Do. Not. Care.

The Best part? Off to remedy the first observation/ revalation.

Happy weekend friends. xo







Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Resume Builder

Our eyes meet across a dimly lit living room. The glow of the television illuminates his hazel eyes. The 14 dozen matchbox cars that sit between us are our only obstacle. He reaches out his arm towards me. I know this game. His hand in a fist. I ball my fingers up to match his. One, two three, shoot. Damn. Paper beats rock. Best two out of three?

See, we both heard it. Twice in fact. The unmistakable sound of a clean diaper, no longer clean. What's worse? She was in the bouncy. Double Damn. Everything works against you in the bouncy. Have you ever tried to 'go' in a hammock? Same thing.

Gingerly I grabbed her and checked the back. Confirmed what I already knew.

There's no good way to carry a poop soaked two month old up the stairs. So she looks at me like I'm a nut job. Rightfully so as I held her at arms length trying desperately not to touch 'it'.

Game plan. Get the onesie and sleeper off without covering her in it. It was already at the nape of her neck. This is when I curse whoever invented those stupid sleepers with the snaps only up one leg. You know, the ones where you gamble and try to not dislocate your baby's hip or knee or ankle to get one leg into the non-snapping side. There is no good way to get a baby who cannot hold their head up, into one. No good way. At this point I considered just throwing it away since it's covered in shit and I hate it.

Devil sleeper off. Now onto the onesie. Fold it inside itself. Try desperately not to get it in her hair. After all, she just had a bath yesterday. It would have been easier to cut it off. Have I mentioned that she basically laughed at me the whole time?

And we are naked. Ok, not me. Just her. She loves being naked. Who doesn't? Naked and poop covered apparently also appeals to her. To each her own.

It's really a daily occurrence. Perhaps she's in the bouncy too much. Perhaps it's payback for trying to sneak a couple ounces of formula into a bottle. It's probably a sign of her love for me. Guess who else loves me a lot. Her brother. A LOT.

Glam.our.ous.

The Best part? Add it to my resume. I am a pro.





Monday, January 3, 2011

It's all mine...

Nope. Not a post about my 2 year old's favorite word.


When we bought our house it was so exciting because it is our own little piece of earth. We own it-ish (in 30 years, 26 now, after paying more than 3 times it's value... details).


Well now I own my own little corner of the world wide web. That's right friends. It's all mine.


No more .blogspot for moi. Does it make me a big deal? Kinda. I won't let it go to my head. Promise.


http://www.thebestspart.com/

If you follow the blog via 'reader' or 'blogger' you have to add the new address to your feeds. I think.


The Best part? Baby smiles.