Sunshine and Bubbles

SXSW (South By South West) has again reared its hipster head, surprising me that it's that time already. Each year we host a band, get free passes, and enjoy the streets full of people, fantastic outfits, and music up the wazoo. This year will be catered a little more towards baby friendly events, since I'll have him strapped to me, but hopefully will still hold all its crazy charm.

The guys arrive in t-minus 10 hours and our house is far from primped. I've got junk to move, floors to vacuum, and schedules to plan to get us through the upcoming whirlwind. So I'll leave you with some pics we took this weekend-- an outfit collage inspired by the Texas Style Council (TxSC) events that I mustered up the courage to attend this weekend and Dexy-pie enjoying his first bubble experience. Sadly, not the stellar moment I had envisioned. Got the tired baby memo: bed is better than bubbles. And the outfit shoot was our first attempt. Plenty of room for improvement...

{dress:: madewell; boots:: thrifted; purse:: urban outfitters; tights:: free people}

Cleaning calls.

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Bring Back the Bars

Is meeting new people tough for you? Because it is for me. Sometimes excruciatingly so.

I don't think of myself as shy. In fact I love introductions. But group meetings? eep! When I'm sans security blankets (i.e. husband, baby or friends) I have to push myself to go. The ones where others are flying solo, like exercise classes or meeting other moms, ain't no big thang. But conferences or events? People come armed with friends and I get scurrrrred.

It seems like somewhere along the road of child to adult, group encounterings got tough. I was constantly put in these situations as a kid and most of the time came out with a new bestie. Or at least someone to swing on the monkey bars with.

But now I just try to make it out unscathed by my foot-in-mouth comments. You know, like the ones that lead people to think my husband had intimate moments with a man (which no, he did NOT.) I go in terrified of cliques, because there always seems to be one, and then when I'm talking worry that I am cutting others out. I don't want to seem like I'm trying to fit, but I also don't want to seem aloof. Shouldn't I just be me?? Of course! I try. But I'm being honest here, and I get scared.

Maybe we are all in the same boat? Maybe we are all a bit fearful of new peeps and groups and fitting in? 'Cuz if that's the case, we need to join together and say cliques suck and we want to be friends and sing kumbaya! I'd be down with that. I could join a little singing/swaying kumbaya session with some gusto. But until I find that group, I just need to practice. Put myself out there. And hope there are more monkey bars.

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A Quiet Success

There's something about sleeping babies that just gets me every time. Seeing their on-the-go bodies actually taking a rest is definitely part of it. Their little baby bellies rising and falling softly, dough rolled arms relaxed in odd positions, blankies and stuffed animals tucked in close.

But there's also the full on release they give in to. The letting go of their day and busy baby lives to rejuvenate for the next round. And in this release lies an immense amount of trust. Every time I sneak in to see him hunkered down, I am blown away by the vast responsibility of caring for such a precious creature. He trusts us, relies on us, for everything, and falls asleep without any worry or care that his needs will be met. Because they are. Day after day, place after place, experience after experience. We walk a tight line of letting him learn and explore while keeping him safe and healthy. It's scary and invigorating all at once. And it's a huge responsibility.

All the hours of catering to his baby needs- feeding, diapering, cleaning, teaching, reading- are aimed at creating an atmosphere of trust, love, and growth. We have to read between the lines that it's working. And to me, the hours of sleep are quiet proof that so far we've succeeded.

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The Games We Play

Back in the day, before Peyton and I were officially Peyton and I, we were friends. Best friends I liked to think. My husband, though, was a little slower on the uptake...

First off, this story takes place on a trip to Home Depot. Not a very friendship-y activity, I'd say.

Second? We were diving into the Table Topics life questions, because every chance in a budding relationship holds infinite opportunities to learn the deepest, most intimate pieces of someone's soul. (You know: wheat or white, flat-head or phillips, dog or cat. Those types of things.) And once again, not an activity that I strike up with any old Joe on the street.

So there we are in the car, partaking in a Home Depot trip full of deep, probing questions, soaking in each other's presence and connecting with our heart-to-heart.

"Who would you choose to live on a deserted island with for two years?"

Peyton ponders this, for a bit too long it seems. "Chico? Noo, man. I don't think I could last that long with him... I don't know."

He was truly struggling.

"I don't think there's anyone. Nope, no one. What about you? Who would you pick?"

So I go for it, the first person that popped in my head. "Well... You."

Let's just say there were crickets. And pins dropping. And the man with the sad fiddle was about to step up.

"Oh, um, YEA. Yea, me too!" Some overly emphatic nodding and a pleased smile ensued.

"I'd pick you."

And not one to be proven wrong, the man up and married me. Now if only he'd focus on the whole Mediterranean yacht thing, we'd be one step closer to that deserted island.

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Weekly Photos - 26-40

Another week has come and gone without a weekly photo update. Add that to the other fourteen. 

And then call it a day, 'cause I'm here and all too ready to share. 

The last one I gave you was before Thanksgiving.  

Yes, literally almost two seasons ago... 

I posted a pic, packed up our things, and traveled north for six weeks, celebrating Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years before heading home. We then won the Super Bowl and bought a house. 

So you know, we've been a tad bit busy. 

And Declan? 

Man, Declan has changed a TON. So much so that I forgot what he was like fifteen weeks ago and had to do a little refresher (here). 

Blogging for the wi-ii-iiiinnnn. 

40 weeks vs. 25 weeks:

Working on 6th tooth 

(was working on first)

Sits up like a PRO 

(was wonky but really trying)

Rolling like it ain't no thang 

(figured it out in January... and honestly? he was having such problems before that I was pretty darn pleased that I could even do it. and now? ha.)

Crawling (army pull style) like a beast 

(started in January)

He. Wants. EVERYTHING. Curious does not begin to describe. And much more tactile. 

(was just learning paci maneuvers)

Still is fascinated by face grabs. 

(was fascinated, but no more shaky hands!)

And oooOoOoh, there's more! 

Started eating solids at Thanksgiving and was a pro from the get-go. 

Is now rockin' on finger foods too.

Talking up a storm-- "aaabbabbababa"-ing this and that and using his arms and inflections and screams.

He even grunts as he crawls along. Very, very expressive. 

No question who gave him these stellar genes. (#mamasrock)

Loves the dogs and cat. Like lights up when they enter the room loves. 

And pets and grabs and pulls loves, but what baby doesn't jump on that?

Has entered the reserved around strangers phase. 

A bit disappointing that smiles aren't given freely anymore, but if you get one? You earned it. 

And I gotta admit it's a little gratifying to see how much he loves us. 

You know, since we're there for him all. the. time.

It's been a productive four months to say the least. So proud of our little bugger. :)

Now those are what I call toofers!!!

**To see past photos, click here or here.**

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