Robby's Wedding Weekend

I'm just now getting around to blogging some pictures from the wonderful weekend of Robby and Meg's nuptials.  

Bunny G was all of 2 weeks old.

I wasn't nervous about that at all!

She attended the rehearsal dinner where BFF Megan served as babysitter extraordinaire!

All of these photos are by the wonderfully talented Kurtis and Jennifer Bowersock.

Google those peeps.

They'll knock your socks off.

I can't believe how much my girl has grown!

Here she is arriving with me and Mom.

I love this one.

If only it didn't showcase my gnarly chewed up fingernails.

One would think I would have kicked that habit after like 33 years of chewing.

Amazingly, I still have teeth!

Baby Girl's gams don't look like that any longer.

They have rolls these days.

Gari and Joe were gaga over G.

They are known as Nana and Poppy.

They claim Genevieve as their 4th grand baby, even though technically she is not.

They fawn regularly over Caroline, Nolan, Grace and Ava.

You know Nolan.

Most awesome toddler ever.

He told me that we were going straight to Target when we played with a PlayMobile van.

A special thank you to Teri for allowing me to borrow a dress that fit.

I love that with that gold button I kind of look like I work for US Airways.

Here's a photo that could have made Jane's 2012 Christmas card spot had I brought my child to the wedding.

I refused.

In my opinion, babies got no bizness at a wedding.

Oh, you can say that it's a family event and babies should be included, yada yada yada.

I disagree.

There's nothing worse than a screaming baby when a couple is having the most important moment of their lives.

That's why I threatened to shank anyone who dared to bring a child to my nuptials.

Who is that gigantic bridesmaid on the left?

Good God, it's me.

Put the 6 footer next to Lindsay, who is all of like 5 feet.

I also wore 2 1/2" heels.

That was a good idea.

So I was almost as tall as the groom.

I am like a model.

We'll go with that.

Barf.

The announcement of the bridal party.

This is Conor.

He's in a band in San Francisco and he works for Apple.

So basically my dad was mesmerized by him.

He was awesome.

We joked that we were paired together because we each have sh**-eating grins and laugh all of the time.

What?

You're breastfeeding?

Well, that isn't obvious at all, as your chesticles are stuffed into a bridesmaid's dress that is already 3 sizes bigger to accommodate your chest circumference.

Not obvious at all!

I love this of the womenfolk of the fam.

Meghan is the shortest at 5'8", but she isn't genetically connected to us!

Caroline is doomed!

We enjoyed a good photo booth at the wedding.

The sad thing is that there was no alcohol involved here.

I wasn't boozing, I just naturally come up with these antics.

This was my Bozo crossed with the creepy soldiers from the Wizard of Oz.

Those guys terrified me when I was a child, but there were a tad less terrifying than those horrible flying monkeys.

Hey husband, see if you can look like a member of a Latino street gang.

His weapon of choice is a sword, not a gat.

That's gangster for gun.

The British Bobby attacks the soldier guarding Buckingham Palace.

If you ever try to mess with those guys, you can't get them to laugh.

I've tried.

Numerous times.

Unsuccessfully.

Typical American tourist, I am!

I'm not sure what is happening here.

It was a fabulous weekend.

Lately...

We had a most exciting weekend.  On Saturday morning Courtney and I had a typical long discussion, and as always, it included talk of cats.

We seem to always discuss cats.

We love them.

Years ago we vowed to live together and raise cats together if we never found true love.

A part of me is sad that this dream won't come to fruition.

We would have been unstoppable.

In that sentence unstoppable is a synonym for shameful.

After we got off the phone I passed this photo on a traffic light post downtown.

Well clearly we must all hail Phillip.

Hilariously strange, and great fodder for a picture text to Court.

Speaking of Court, we had a lovely visit last week.

She gave Genevieve a bottle and proceeded to start to pick at her baby face.  I had to reprimand her and explain that G had dead baby skin around her nose.

Court discovered that she in fact had dead formula around her nose.

Gross.

When my daughter started to kick up a fuss, Court leaned in and whispered, "Uh, this is an A-B conversation.  I suggest you C your way out of it."  

I would have wet myself, but fortunately I have pretty good bladder control thanks to the ole c-section.

She makes me laugh big time.

On Saturday we watched Tennessee come dangerously close to actually winning against South Carolina.

I still can't believe their mascot is the Gamecock.

It just makes me think of a shuttlecock, one of my favorite sporting terms.

Who doesn't love badminton?

We dolled up our child and went to Marinda's Halloween party.

Marinda was Velma of Scooby Doo fame.

Genevieve wore a tutu and an owl hat.

I have no explanation for that.

Target was all out of 0-3 month costumes, and I have the creativity of a gnat.

Not in creative writing, of course, but in creative everything else.

Tonight I asked Trinity if he minded if I went to a Sunday evening yoga class.

He did.

He said he had not had any alone time all weekend.  He said he wanted to go and do something by himself.

I was totally fine with that.  

I said, "Okay, yes you go do something by yourself without us.  What do you want to do?  Where do you want to go?"

He responded, "I have no idea.  I just want to get out.  Maybe the Target parking lot."

Well that makes a gal feel great, now doesn't it?

How reassuring!

Lastly, we are looking forward to enjoying our first Halloween in our new house.  We're told that our neighborhood is a real hotspot for little buggers in costume.

That could help us avoid the Trinity candy-buying debacle of 2011.

You remember.

He bought about $35 worth of candy and we had 3 children.

6 Weeks Postpartum update!

Genevieve is 6 weeks old today.

Woot.

She is wearing 3 month clothing now.

She is rather large.

And rather sweet.

The weather has been splendid the last few days, so we are sitting on our screened porch a lot to eat.

Kashmir loves it too.

Disregard creepy face chairs behind the cat.

Trinity loves them.

My mother came to stay the night last night, since my 6 week appointment was at 8:00 a.m. this morning.

Yes, that seemed like a good idea when I scheduled it 6 weeks ago.

Now with my little 10 lb appendage, it isn't such a hot idea to schedule things early in the morning.

You know what else was a good idea, pre baby?

A beautiful aqua velour glider.

It is now swathed in an old sheet.

Formula stains, my friends.

My appointment went well.

I am thrilled to say that I am back to pre- preg weight.

Yippee.

I expected the nurses to be lined up in the hallway so I could run through gauntlet style and they would high five me like my teammates did when I was announced as a starter on my 8th grade basketball team.

That was the only time I really played, by the way.

Alas, upon my exit, no cheering nursing and medical staff lined the hallway.

No one is excited for me.

I say this because it is only a number.

Things have changed.

No joke.

Pregnancy changes your shape, at least 6 weeks after it ends.

As I have mentioned before, I must call upon Archie Bell and the Drells, and start the "Tighten Up."

Tone and tighten commences immediately.

I

A Fall Weekend

YaYa came back this weekend.

She's officially moved in, and now Jane, Betsy and Trinity are the 2012 version of Jack, Janet and Chrissy of Three's Company fame.

I jest.

She came on Friday because G had her first vaccination.

I needed moral support.

My baby cried for all of 2 minutes and my mother and I had to embrace and console one another for at least 10.

Pitiful.

At 5 weeks, Genevieve weighs 10 lbs, 5.5 oz.

She has gained one ounce shy of 3 lbs in her 5 weeks of life.

Girl likes her groceries.

A lot.

Trinity and I had a date night and attended a 2 hour restorative yoga workshop at my yoga studio.

He was thrilled.  

Here we are, ready to depart.

I thought it was divine.

We did 30 minutes of slow flow, then an hour and a half of resting positions, some that we held for about 20 minutes.

When we moved to a different pose, I whispered to my sweet husband, asking him what he thought.

His response was, "I gotta pee."

So I'm married to Forrest Gump.

Ridiculous.

I think its safe to say that I will yogi on, solo.

He was a sport, and then we dined at Yats.

He loves that joint.

Babysitter YaYa sent this photo while we were gone-

our absence clearly perplexed our daughter.

What perplexes her mother is that her hair is falling out and she now looks like one Andrew Squiggmann, aka Squiggy of Laverne and Shirley fame.

You know Squiggy.

She be balding on the sides of her forehead.

I shan't fret, though.

Cousin Caroline had the worst baby hair in history and now is probably in the running for the best head of hair in kindergarten, if there was such a shallow competition.

On Saturday, Bob came and brought the diabetic hound.

It was a raucous evening in our house, for sure.

2 parents, 2 grandparents, an infant, a kitty and a fool dog.

On Sunday, we wrapped up our weekend with a requisite trip to the pumpkin patch, or in our case, mum/pumpkin selling locale.

I wasn't going to pay an entrance fee for corn mazes and apple fritters when my child can't even hold her head up.

No, we hit up a local garden center and Jane got to snappin'.

So, as normal adults shopped for seasonal flowers, we held a family photo shoot.  

G was dressed as a kitty cat and wore her pumpkin hat, courtesy of Abby.

Check out those pants.

3 months clothing for my 5 week old.

Again, girl likey the groceries.

This is a favorite of mine-

I feel like it looks like that section in US Weekly, where it has celebrities doing normal things, called "Stars, they're just like US."

Oh, I'm just a famous celebrity, leaving the garden center with my balding baby.

But don't think I'm any different than anyone else.

Oh, wait.  I'm not different from anyone else.

I'm not a celebrity.

My mother just follows me around with pricy photography gear.

Oh, a girl can dream-

A Very Busy Weekend for a Baby!

So we had a pretty crazy weekend.

We started on Friday night with our first real night out, aside from Robby and Meghan's wedding.

Whitney came over to care for Miss G, and I wore some regular jeans that did not have a stretchy panel in the front.

I'm not sorry to see the maternity gear go, and since I've rarely left the house in the last month, I haven't really worn a lot of real clothes yet.

It was truly cause for celebration.

I washed my hair and wore regular lady clothes.

T was thrilled.  

He fed G before we departed...

and boy did we rock Massachusetts Avenue.

From 6:30-9:15p.m.

We started with cocktails and a cheese platter at our beloved Ball and Biscuit bar, where T lasted approximately 11.9 minutes before showing our 22 year old  waitress a photo of our baby on his Blackberry.

I was actually a tad embarrassed.

We are officially those people.

"Look at our baby!"

"Isn't she cute?"

"We haven't been anywhere but Target and the pediatrician in a month!"

"My wife can only have one drink because she is still pumping."

We totally cooled up that joint, for sure, and I'm sure they were sad when we left.

They were like, "yeah, bring back that couple with the guy in his cuffed Seven jeans and outdated Blackberry with infant pictures and the chick who is clearly very proud of herself for fitting back into her pre-baby clothes.  Par-tay!"

We then hit up Old Point for some dinner.

Peace out, Mass Ave swaying digital lady.

We gots to go.

It's 9:00.  

On Saturday T's parents and auntie showed up for the baptismal weekend.

We got the cocktails flowing in the kitchen.

Tequila for the hombres and cosmos for the ladies.

G stuck with her usual boob milk, courtesy of one seriously hip mixologist, moi.

On Sunday we celebrated Genevieve's first sacrament, baptism.

Here she gets that oily stuff on her forehead, in the sign of the cross.

Sister Katie and Brother Rob (my actual siblings, not members of the clergy) served as the godparents.

Who wouldn't want these two spiritual shepherds to guide their child in the faith?

Oh, now there I go again with a dose of snark.

They truly are the most caring and generous people I know.

Robby always was, Katie not so much.

20 years ago she may have attempted to murder me a time or two, but we have come full circle and now are thick as thieves.

She is a fabulous mother, wife, sister, daughter and all other roles in the family.

They will make great godparents.

Genevieve wore a special medal of the Virgin de Cuba, a gift from Trinity's grandmother to him when he was a baby.  

 Abby was proud.

She ordered a lovely bib for G that said

God Bless Genevieve

in pink embroidery.

She had it rush delivered to the house in time for Sunday.

She called us on Friday inquiring about its arrival.

Trinity confirmed that we had it.

Her query, "But does it say, God Bless Genevieve?"

He replied, "no it says, Satan be Damned."

Oh, that husband of mine.

My Uncle Kent and Aunt Cindi enjoyed the baptism.

One side of the familia.

Our dear family friends and photographers, Kurtis and Jennifer, came to the church to take photos for Jane's 2012 Christmas card.  Don't mess with Jane and her Christmas card picture.

We were supposed to get it at the wedding 2 weeks ago, but T and I totally snagged all of the plans by not getting our infant to the reception site in time.

That was not well received by mother.  

Alas, alternate plans were made, and K&J came to the rescue.

Everyone look at my baby!

My Uncle Kent snapped this one, which I think truly captures the spirit of my family-

a bunch of derelicts.

On Monday the celebration continued and Robby was sworn in as a member of the Indiana Bar Association.

We celebrated with lunch at the Columbia Club, where Genevieve dined in the Crystal Terrace ballroom, where her parents had their wedding reception two years ago.

Robby said we should have named her Crystal in honor of that room where we had the party of our lives.

Yes, Crystal.

Definitely one of my favorite names.

I apologize if your name is Crystal.

Attorneys at the swearing in-

Uncle Kent, Dad, Robby, and Pat, Rob's pal and groomsman with the fabulous hair.

Seriously, commercial-worthy.

I find Pat to be precious and tell him nearly every time I see him.

I'm sure he thinks of me as Robby's creepy sister.

Congratulations to all of my family this weekend.

One member a newly minted attorney and one a baptized baby of the Lord.

Yippee!

1 Month!

I did it!

I have kept Li'l Bunny Fou Fou alive for a whole month.

Kudos to me!

Actually, I had lots of help in the form of her father, my parents and Trinity's parents.

My friends Whitney, Marinda, Megan, Jamie and Nicole have talked me off of the ledge numerous times about the perils of motherhood.

It truly takes a village.

And I'm the Village Idiot.

That being said, I pulled out my sassy camera and channeled my mother, the crazy Mamarazzi.

Jane bought those little decals to put on her shirt for each month.

One would think those would have an adhesive back, no?

No.

So I was juggling a onesied newborn, my camera, a stuffed mouse and some f'in Scotch tape.

I didn't drop her on her noggin.

Score for me.

We went to the pediatrician yesterday to solve a complex problem known as diaper rash.

This is a relatively new affliction that few babies have experienced.

Oh now seriously.  I was just embarrassed as a rookie mother.

Betsy: "It must be like the worst diaper rash you've ever seen, though, right?"

Dr. Phillips:  "No."

Despite my Herculean attempts to keep my daughter clean, she dirties her pants about every 6.9 minutes due to my pumping abilities and the diarrheal affects of breast milk.

Babies are glamorous.

Plus, she eats constantly.

4oz every 3 hours.

She was weighed at the doctor.

At two weeks, she was back to her birthweight, 7lbs, 6 oz.

Yesterday at four weeks, she weighed 9lbs, 12 oz.

Holy sh**.

That's about what I said.

Again, I impressed the pediatrician.

Betsy:  "That can't be right.  Your scale is wrong.  That's impossible."

Dr:  "Well, I haven't taken a class in weights and measurement, but I did go to medical school."

Touche.

I like that guy.

However, I am crazy mother and insisted that the nurse weigh her again on a different scale, then promise not to tell the doctor that I asked her to do it.

They don't think I'm crazy pants at all.

No, they love me.

Abby aka T's mother, sent this hat via Etsy.

She kinda looks like a Fraggle.

Best photo ever.

This will be enlarged to 16x20 and hung over my mantle.

Because I'm just that normal.