5 Months and Visitors

Genevieve was 5 months last Thursday and I managed to get her onesie decal pictures with the mouse, who no longer looks so giant.

G is a lean mean rolling machine, minus the lean, so these are becoming more challenging.

She is now like a little weeble wobble.

She rolls from her back to her front, and from her front to her back.  She is a pro at "happy baby" pose, one of my yoga favorites. She grabs her feet when she is on her back, and it is too cute.

She squeaks and shrieks quite a bit now too.

I'm really loving this stage.

She's not mobile, stays where I put her, yet is so expressive and fun.

She laughs all of the time, and is happy 90% of the time.

She sleeps from 7-6:30 without waking, which makes her mother quite happy.  

She is now 18lbs and we have two hats that fit.  Her head isn't her smallest feature.

Or maybe it is.

Nicole came to visit on President's Day.

She brought Caroline and Madelyn.

Caroline was all about G's toys.

She may have grabbed them from G a few times.

The first time Genevieve was so relaxed about it.

"Sure, take my toy.  You are a bigger baby by at least 3 pounds, even though you are 9 months older than me."

The 2nd time Genevieve lost her mind.

She apparently is not going to be a shrinking violet.

She screamed and let me and Nic know what was up.

I fear she may be one of those kids who tattles constantly:)

Ha!

Mady was a pro at retrieving toys for both babies and generally keeping everyone content.

A photo of all three was impossible.

So was one of the two sisters looking at the camera.

We had such fun and loved seeing them!

Valentine's Day and a Special Visit!

Our girl rocked her first Valentine's Day with a sassy hearted dress that she wore as a tunic.

Tunics are more flattering for us tall gals, you see.  Especially when you're 5 months and you look like you're 18 months.

Yawn.

7:00 a.m. photos are a snooze.

I admit I bought some affection for my child.  Starbucks cards and Dove dark chocolates a happy daycare lady doth make.

That was poetic.

I'm shameless.  

I have to buy one of these things.

Yet another eyesore of primary colored pieces of plastic that light up and spin and make my house look like crap.

I pulled out this little jazzy number.

Wait, the ship has sailed?

I must run to catch it.

What?  I missed it because I can't actually move forward on my own?

Well, that's disappointing.

Everyone dresses their daughter as a little doll sailor, no?

Abby and Papi arrived on Saturday morning and it was on like Donkey Kong with hippopotamus ball popping.

They came bearing DVDs, so Genevieve was excited.  My daughter loves her Baby Einstein videos, let me tell you.  

Now you should see a dining room table there, if we had one.

We eat at the bar.

The one in our house, not Kilroy's. 

That area rug is festooned with more light up crap. 

Then it was on to a little light reading.

G regularly tries to concuss herself with a board book or two. 

Abby says,  pat the bunny.

Paul can touch daddy's scratchy face.

Genevieve can touch Papi's scratchy mustache.

We went to lunch at the Texas Roadhouse on Sunday.

Genevieve wore a new barrette.  That lasted like 15 minutes.

Her cheeks are rosy as usual.  I'm addressing that with Eucerin, fear not.

Daddy no longer has a scratchy face, thank you Lord.

The Christmas beard stretched way beyond Martin Luther King Jr. Day, which is normally the day we honor civil rights and shave the  beard too.

Not this year.

He waited until just past universal lovin' day.

This showcases the 10 minutes that Genevieve cooperated in the  restaurant.

Dear God Bless Texas Roadhouse and your peanutted floor,

Your peanutty floor makes it difficult for me to sway and dance to country music in front of the roll maker lady for 30 minutes with my toddler/5 month old while you make my very challenging to cook grilled chicken salad.  I almost bit the dust a time or two, and my only difficulty would have been the family dilemma of having to choose my father or brother to represent me when I sued you for making me drop my toddler/super infant.  I forgive you though because your rolls are made of angel baby flour.

Thanks,

Betsy

Adventures with G

Miss Genevieve looked sassy and most displeased on Wednesday morning when I awoke her for daycare.  Courtney called her Soupy Sales, and is now referring to her as Soupy, due to her downtrodden little mouth in this photo.

On Thursday I suited up my gal in straight up cheetah print and packed everything she owned.  

My mother came to get her for the weekend.

On Thursday.

That's right, 3 nights of baby free livin'.

Some of you may be horrified that I could be separated from my darling girl for that long, when she will only be 5 months on Thursday.

Well, go ahead and be horrified.

I loved it.

G loved it.

Trinity loved it.

YaYa and Bob loved it.

Mom made the drive with her dear friend Nancy.

Nancy wrangled the baby during lunch at Panera.

Then it was Mom's turn.  Between the two of them, they probably finished half a bowl of soup.

Genevieve likes to be in on the action these days.

They immediately went to Leslie's house, where Genevieve threatened to make a break for it back to Indy in Louise's car.

She lacks insurance and a license, so she didn't make it out of the living room.

G played with Leslie's grandson Jackson.

There was lots of laughing, which looks a lot like grimacing.

Nana was on full baby patrol.

Gari came for a baby squeeze.

Mom sent me this one and I nearly drove to get her right then and there because of this precious face.  

She enjoyed time with Alice.

G sleeps from about 7p.m.-6:30 a.m. without waking up.  I can't complain.

So over the weekend I just enjoyed the fact that she couldn't wake up.  Or if she did, she was 75 miles west and my mom could feed her.

Sweet liberation!!!

Now what do two 30 something parents do sans baby for a long weekend?

They par-tay.

Until about 8:00 after they have dinner.

We Mexicaned it up on Friday night.

The waitress brought me a margarita that could have choked a horse.

I told Trinity that since I became a mother I wasn't really interested in drinking anything much.

His response-

"Except Riesling in the bathtub."

Look away, you smug scoundrel!

Speaking of bathing, I make no bones about my love of the tub.

I do enjoy my vino as I soak.

This may or may not be a drowning hazard, but I assure you I have only one glass.

During my baby free time I went to yoga, and to the mall, where I  browsed for my baby face, bought myself a new outfit and spent some time in Lush.

If you've never been in a Lush store before, it is a real treat.  They feature all natural body products, but it can be confusing.  There are lots of bowls of creams with fruits on ice and other such nonsense.

Brother Robby claims that upon his first visit he tried to order a smoothie.

Alas, he left with some au naturale pomade.

I love that Robby says pomade.

Anywhoo, I was immediately drawn to this glittery goodness-

I thought it was soap.

It was a bath bomb.

It cost $7 and I asked the girl how many times I could use it.

"Once," she replied.

Exsqueeze me?

"It foams and is so luxurious and you'll feel like a queen!"

Well, burlesque lady with your fair skin and exotic tattoos, then I shall buy it!

So now I come to the point of this whole story.  I had the most perfect night ever last night.

T and I met Robeghan at H2O for my favorite sushi.

Then I headed home for vino, glitter bathing and Downton Abbey.

Robby had season 3 on DVD because he apparently contributes more to public television than I do.  I think I got a Downton Abbey mug for my contribution.

After my glitter bath, Downton Abbey viewing, and baby free slumbering,  I awoke this morning feeling like a real aristocrat.  

When I entered my bathroom I discovered that my bathtub looked as though either a leprechaun died in it or a herd of CareBears bonded together to shine light from their bellies and instead exploded.

I hope that was descriptive enough.

I had to get out the bleach and scrub off the gold shimmer that was ever so pretty.

I definitely felt more like Ms. O'Brien than Mary Crawley after that.

We met Mom and Dad this morning to regain custody of our girl.

We loved having a little vacation at home without her, but were equally thrilled to get her back!

Our Week

Life has been boring around here, so I don't have much to share.  YaYa came for the week and she had a big time with Genevieve.  It is wonderful to have my mother around, as it was when Abby came.  They cook.  That is divine.  They have their specialties, and Trinity loved it.  Mom makes swiss steak and Abby makes ketchup chicken, which sounds gross but is delicious.  

Anyway, YaYa and Genevieve had their daily outings to Starbucks.

She loves it.

G doesn't have a signature order yet, but I'm thinking she'll be slurping organic milk pretty soon.

G went to school on Friday, where she is concentrating her studies in dormitory science.

I hated to pick up my little slumbering muffin, but she fell asleep on the way home.

I'm the fabulous mother who leaves her child asleep in her car seat whilst wearing a hat and coat so she sweats to the high heavens once I bring her inside.

Never wake a sleeping baby, I say.

In random thoughts, I regret that I was that idiot pregnant first time mother who bought clothes for her unborn child.

Age is not equal to size.

Hence my baby who will be 5 months in 2 weeks wears 9 month clothing.

I didn't predict that nonsense.

The darling outfit I bought her in Nashville during Meg's bachelorette weekend is fitting like a charm.

Oh crap.

That darling little tank and diaper cover duo looks smashing in January.

Damn!

We were forced to have a spring fashion show indoors and G worked the runway, or rather the chevron sheet.

I'm really hoping this little number below works for our family vacation to Rosemary Beach in July.  

It's still quite roomy.

It should be.

It's 12 months.

Good grief.

I was thinking about how I will take pictures of Genevieve for 5 months very soon.  I was also laughing as my ever so vivid imagination ran away with me.  I was thinking how grateful I am that the little tradition of dolling one's infant up in a onesie with the month decal dies after one year.

I can just picture myself in one of those amazing 1991 Victoria's Secret bodysuits with a mock neck and snapped crotch with  "33 years" taped to my chest, sitting in a recliner.

It isn't a pretty mental image.

I'll leave you with that chuckle.