7/52 & 21 Months

"A portrait of my son, once a week, every week, in 2014."

Declan :: Enjoying some of the perks of having landscaping done- a yard full of dirt and a bumpy ride in a wheelbarrow. 

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My sweet baby.

You are 21 months old today and while I look at you and think how you've grown, I also am blown away by just how little you are. This will likely be the last month that we call you "the baby," since you are about to be promoted to big brother. And this cuts me a little. I'm not ready to let your babyness go, no matter how many words you are learning or routines you've gotten down. But you, you're ready. And for those moments where you aren't, where you just want to cry and cuddle and push my hair to the side to lay your warm cheek on my shoulder, I'm here for you. I will always be here for you.

But the truth is you are growing and developing just like you should. We tried to figure out how many words you know, because 100 by the age of 2 just seemed like so many, but I truly think you've already surpassed it. You may not say many perfectly, but you've got your own language and we try to catch on with each new word. Today it was "puz" and earlier this week you deemed your darling sweet potatoes "tay-tays". You're a sponge, and I remind your dear dad of your verbal sponginess quite often.

You're in a spell of waking up early, something that I'm not too fond of, and you don't wake up happy. So sleep. Please baby, just sleep. If the sun is up you are always just as sunny, but if it's still dark you deep down know it's not time. Or at least that's what I tell myself. Not that I can complain too much.

You love routine. Mornings you drink your bottle (yes, bottle. we are weak to the sippy cup switcheroo.) tucked in bed with us, look at my phone for a bit, and then announce it's time for "oa-mee" or "waf." You present me with my glasses, ask for us to get up, and then insist on standing on the corner counter where you can turn on the radio and play with the microwave. It's a morning constant that I'm sure I'll one day miss.

Being "ouside" is your place of choice, where you can run around, play "base" (t-ball), go on walks, and try to see your friends. You love playdates, and we try to do them every other morning or so. The whole day is better when you interact with other kiddos. And car rides are only complete when you've picked out a train to take with you.

You're just a spitfire my friend. Passionate and self-possessed and knowing what you want. You are exactly where you're supposed to be and it still amazes me that this is only the beginning of the journey.

**Linking with The 52 Project and Just Write.**

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5/52

"A portrait of my son, once a week, every week, in 2014."

Declan :: "Ou-side, ou-side." 

At this point, there is no place he'd rather be, and no one he'd rather be out there with than "Tee-tee."

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After waiting over half a year plus four weeks, I have finally joined The 52 Project. Started by Jodi of Practising Simplicity, it is a community of bloggers who portrait their children once a week, every week, for a year. The idea is to capture childhood in it's every day moments, to document development in beautiful snippets.

I'm so excited to start... Better late than never!

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You Say Clementine, I Say Owange.

I'm baaa-aaack.

Finally. I know.

Mom's been on a whole "limited screen-time" kick that dad and I try to ward off, but dang she runs a tough ship, especially with this little dude. Somehow daddio gets away with all sorts of things that are no such luck to me. There's no hiding of controllers from him or taking of his phone or shutting his computer. And no matter how many times I try to say "que pasa?!" the woman just rebuffs me over and over, handing me fake phones and toy trains. Doesn't she know I have followers waiting on my every tweet? No? Well, she oughta.

Anyway, today I'd like to come at you with a secret ritual I've been made privy to: the proper way to eat a clementine.  You see, this whole big world is starting to make sense just a little bit more to me and I'm seeing that things go in a certain order. I mean, babies know the usual- tub follows dinner, teeth follow tub, and then stories, sound machine, music box, and crib. BAM. That's what I call a smoothly run machine. But apparently there is way more out there than I ever would have guessed, rituals that run deep.

Mom showed me this one day all nonchalantly, saying she was tired and didn't want to go to the table, but clearly she was actually just letting me in on the sacred ceremony of maximum enjoyment. So listen closely friends. When you want to eat said clementine, grab one, sit at the coffee table, and make your announcement - "OWANGE." Just like that. Your servant will arrive to peel this delectable treat for you, if you, like me, tend to get it stuck on your finger in a rather unflattering way when you attempt. When he or she is done peeling, place said pieces on the closest book. This will be your plate from here on out. As in, for every clementine meal this season. Make it clear that that book is not to go anywhere lest they want you to starve. Mine happens to be a lovely work on raising chickens in your backyard, AKA the chicken book. I like to think of the chicken on the cover (sweet Henrietta) as my dining companion. She's a fine date indeed. With Henrietta by my side, clementines have never tasted sweeter. From here devour the fruit and hope for a napkin nearby to wipe your face. If none such exists, screw it and run around wildly. They'll catch up with you at some point.

But friends, be warned- there will be times and people that don't respect the sanctity. Dads are a number one culprit. Mine failed me just the other day. I sat down, presented the owange, and he had me come to him. The nerve. I anxiously awaited the peeling to commence knowing that if Hennie saw me eating alone the betrayal would never pass. (Not that I've ever seen it, but I've heard that chicks can hold grudges. It's a place I hope to never go.) The seconds rolled like syrup (which, by the way... where has that BEEN all my life?!) and finally he handed me a piece. While I typically would have shoved it down to free up precious hand space for more, he had to be shown how things work around here. So I used all the will power I could muster and took that piece over to my girl, placed it down on her sweet mug, looked at dad to make sure he got just how serious this was, and picked it up and ate it.

And you know what he did? You'll be as shocked as I was...






He laughed.


I was blown away, and mildly insulted to say the least. But then the truth came like a morning dawn, a sad dawn where the wool has been cleared and your eyes are seeing light for the first time-- clearly mom just doesn't love him enough to show him the good stuff.

That poor, poor man.

I guess I'd rather take my lot sans phones and remotes than his any day. Maybe my mama ain't so bad after all...

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17 Months

I haven't written about Declan in forever. I think my last update was his 48 week photo. And while this was partially for you (because who truly wants to read about another person's baby that much...?) it was mostly just laziness. But this must end. Because his changes have been gradual and slow day to day, yet overall add up to leaps and bounds. It's like sand between my fingers and I just want to snatch it all back up.

So what describes that boy these days?

He leans in for hugs and smacks a big opened mouth guppy kiss right on your lips. He gives these sneak attacks to strangers and animals and mama and daddy when he's feeling happy. He's affectionate to a whole new level, a very welcome level at that. And while this affection is sweet, on the flip side are his (mostly rare) emotional tantrums when he doesn't get his way. He is just living big.

Organization flows from his fingertips as he moves my clothes from one drawer to the next then puts everything from the floor into the clean laundry basket. And he's helpful, oh so helpful. Constantly closing the refrigerator door for us and spilling milk from his bottle so he can bring a towel over to wipe it up. He shuts the dishwasher and turns the buttons on the dryer. And he could care less about the word "no." It holds only humor to him.

He loves playing in Tegan's water bowl and running away from us screaming and telling us exactly what a cat, dog, lion, or sheep say. His dance moves are on FIRE, complete with head bobbing to one side, a little sway, and sometimes a spin or two. He could live on fruit. He's constantly going, going, going- bringing us books only to leave by page two or pushing limits to climb onto the table. It's exhausting and amusing all at once.

And while I love all these amazing changes that come with growing up, I look back on his baby pictures and just want to slink back in. Just for one day to hold that soft, teeny body and soak in those early emotions. But I can't. So instead I'll focus on commemorating today, since in the not too distant future I'll surely long to come back.

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These Feet Were Made For Walkin'

I've had some much needed detox after the May challenge. The kind that actually took me out into the world, exploring the sights and sounds and heat of Austin. It's been grand, but I've missed this little space all the same. The challenge in May created such a fantastic community that now, without our daily posts, I'm feeling a bit of a hole. I miss you ladies. I'll eventually figure out this whole blogging and living balance.

In the meantime, I'll keep enjoying the little nugget, who's not quite so little anymore.

Take a peak at the following:

{excuse me for the hyena-esque cackle at the end. i'm not one to contain excitement well.}

And so dawns a new decade of babydom. Time to batten down the hatches, P-man. 

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A Birthday and a Pictogram

Day 28/31 - Only pictures.

**.........**

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I Here Proclaim This "Declan Day"

Blog Every Day in May Challenge

Day 15/31 - A day in the life.

Chunky cheeks here again. Mom's life revolves around me so I said "Why the fruit pack not?!"

Let's start from the beginning...

** 5:30 ** "AHHHHHHH!!" Gets mom's attention every time. In she stumbles to give me the goods. And some cuddles. Sometimes a baby gets lonely, yo. Just as I get cozy- belly full of milk, paci in mouth-  it's wham, bam, thank you ma'am and I'm back in my crib. Say whhha? I try to scream, but hey, it feels kinda good in here, so my eyes just fade shut.

** 8:00 ** Hello world! Hello day! Hhhhellooo mama.

{i try to be charming to make it clear i want out. and i want out for good.}

From here it gets hazy. I'm a busy baby, and checking the clock just ain't my thing.

{say good morning to my dawg. she tries to get fresh, but i remind her that i'm only one}

{oh breakfast heaven. there's mom trying to embarrass me with her hand on my spoon. i'm one now woman}

{we play balloons.}

{until she goes and ruins it, that is. girls- it's how they roll.}

{get poked and prodded a little.}

{take a walk with my homey.}

{catch mom takin' selfies in her "first room in Austin." geez, woman, get a grip.}

{take note: this is how you peace out of your first room.}

{took control of this moving situation. i mean, dear lard, we've been here about 5,367,fh8 times already. gotta catch dwts before news breaks on facebook.}

{we're going to finals baby! not that i care or anything, but had to pretend since she actually let me watch tv.}

And that's that. Not counting the mortifying things like diaper changes and naps, that is. But who really wants to see that? Not even me. 

Until next time. It's been real. 

**Check out my last post. I dare ya.**

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Don't Commit to White Onesies

Blog Every Day in May Challenge
Day 13/31 - Issue a public apology. 

Friends, I'd like to apologize on behalf of the Murrays (that's right... us), for sucking lately at weekly photos. It was one of the only things that people seemed to enjoy seeing on the regular and we totally fell off the picture taking wagon. They are now almost updated, so go back and take a looksie for old time's sake.

Self, I am apologizing to you for requiring the pics to be in a white onesie. I mean, changing a kid into a certain outfit for one little picture is just something someone who's never had a kid would think is reasonable. You'll know better next time.

And to Declan, you did exist in those missing weeks. I'm sorry for not capturing them in that basket and possibly making you wonder if we shipped you away here and there to get a little breather. I gotta tell you that I'm pretty sure if we made a graph the spottiness corresponds perfectly with your rising mobility level. Not that I'm blaming this on you or anything, but you know that saying "when the shoe fits...."?

All in all, they were fun. I'd recommend them. They let you watch your baby grow from a little glow worm to a toothy coot! But please, save yourself some sanity and go hog wild on the outfit, each and every week.

**Check out all our weekly photos on the tab above.**

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We Crash Heads

Day 8/31 - A moment in your day

There's a moment that's repeated daily in our house. Declan sits in his highchair, food filling his belly and eyes being rubbed for a nap. It's at this point, this exact point, that if you lean in close- just put your head down near his- he'll bend forward to collide, putting all of his weight and trust in your forehead to keep his tired soul up. Sometimes he'll roll it back and forth. Sometimes he'll giggle and try to touch noses. Recently he's rested for a bit to get the energy to bite your chin. It's sweet. It's an understood moment between the two of us.

Except for this morning, of course. The morning when I tried to get pictures.

So to be true to the moment of this day, here are three pics of what went down.

Babies. It's like they've got a mind of their own or something. 

**More moments linked at Story of My Life**

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