Ah, those days. . .

Remember when he was bald and chubby

and content

and I couldn't get enough of him?

*Sigh*

We're working on it.

We'd all be happier if he'd just eat his dinner.

Summer Favorites

After we got back from Montana, we didn't do a whole lot this summer, what with me being tired and sick a whole lot, our budget being fairly well exhausted from one 3,000 mile trip, and Doug working every Friday and Saturday. But we have squeezed in a little fun. A few parting summer shots.

Claire off to join the big kids in the fountains.

Dylan and Clayton cooling off.

Dylan nervously approaching Space Mountain in Daddy's arms.

Keilana, walking through Fantasyland with Rachel and Mimi. Life is good.

Rambling

I'm pretty sure that this baby already hates me. I think I'm sick again. Yesterday we went for a Sunday drive, and I started feeling horrendous on the ride down from the mountains on the very, very curvy road we took home. Motion sickness is a phenomenon I usually only experience when pregnant, so I assumed that was all and as soon as we straightened out I'd be fine. I was still feeling sick until about an hour after we got home. Then I started to feel better, had something to eat and sat down to veg for a while. By the time I went to bed, I had a headache. At 1am, I finally got out of bed and took some Tylenol. It didn't do a thing, and now I was nauseous again, too. At 2am, I finally woke Doug up to ask him to give me a short blessing, just so that I could get enough relief to get some sleep (because even if I'm well-slept, the bone-crushing fatigue doesn't seem to be going anywhere anytime soon--I told you, this baby hates me). By 2:30ish, I was starting to drift in and out because I was feeling a bit less pain. When I woke up at 4, I felt fine and was able to go right back to sleep (other than the occasional, unintentional slap from a sleeping Kylie). I got to sleep in for a while this morning--I didn't get out of bed til nearly 8:20, so that helped. But I'm still vaguely nauseous, and just walking up and down my stairs makes me exhausted. Grrrrr. Usually, by the time the second trimester hits I feel fine. I have discovered, as the symptoms linger on and on, that I really hate being unproductive. No, that's not entirely true. Being unproductive can be quite enjoyable when I feel good, but not getting anything done AND not enjoying myself makes me a bit crazy.

On a completely unrelated note, as I was reading news this morning, I noticed all the news websites had headlines about the VMAs, most of which were accompanied by pictures of Lady Gaga. I'm not very familiar with her--I think I've heard two of her songs. But I assume there's no reason to figure out who she is. If experience has taught me anything, its that people who try so desperately hard to be outlandish, outrageous, different (insert appropriate adjective here) are likely not extraordinary in any way. People who are genuinely that different or extraordinary usually get noticed eventually, despite their best efforts to appear normal.

Good Days

I love these three:

Even though we'll all be really glad when Daddy gets home,

we're doing OK without him.

Usually I think summer holds on too long around here.

Today I was glad it was still with us.

All morning at a friends house,

playing hard on their inflatable waterslide.

Some quiet time with a movie

while baby sister slept.

Then off to the park

for climbing, swinging, sliding,

and sunburns.

Everybody came home filthy, exhausted

and happy.

Kylie was actually excited to go to bed

but when I sat down to rock her

she started looking at me with a confused little face:

"Dada? Dada?"

Two more days,

munchkin.