A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.
Some men take pride in their cars. Others in their trophy wives. My man? He takes pride in his mustache. He fiddles with the curled ends of that thing in front of the mirror longer than it takes me to shower, do my hair, and brush my teeth. When he sees another rugged man (I say “another” because surely he thinks his mustache makes him a gnarly dude) he immediately uses his come on line of, “What kind of wax do you use?”. And no, he’s not checking out their surf board, he’s checking out their stache. He makes many friends this way and gloats for the rest of the day after any compliment he receives. Anyhow, I figure it’d be fun to track his stache growth here on the blog. You may remember the initial pic I included on a Bits + Pieces post a few weeks back. If not, you can check out the very beginnings here, before the curled ends made their appearance. I’ll include a monthly snapshot from here on out. Hooper & Van, I’m sorry. Your Papa’s a nut.
I always start with his food the way I intend for him to eat it. I’ll give it a few attempts before I make additions or subtractions. With this meal, he wouldn’t eat the carrots. Sometimes he goes for them, other times he doesn’t. I added just a bit of ranch dressing and he ate all of them. Avocado is also hit or miss, but sometimes adding a little cream cheese does the trick. Ultimately, he gobbled up the chicken quesadilla and carrots but wouldn’t go for the avocado. You can’t win them all.
Scrambled eggs with cheese is my “go-to”. He loves it and he eats it fast. If we have somewhere we have to be and don’t have the luxury to dedicate the whole morning to eating his breakfast, we go with eggs. I’m tempted to start adding spinach to it, but don’t want to mess with the good thing we have going quite yet. It is on the agenda though. I cut the cherries in half and remove the pit and he always gobbles those up.
The chicken breast is cooked with corn starch for added crunch. We tell him it’s chicken nuggets and he’s never turned it down. Sometimes I mix in a little pesto sauce too if he needs a little push.
I tried to get Hooper to eat oatmeal for the longest time. He always refused. I added raisins and he has yet to push that bowl away. Woot woot.
Sidenote: The vintage placemats are from Etsy seller Star Friends On Earth and I love them. I was devastated the other day when Hooper took a pen to one of them, but it washed off with ease. Love, love, love. Want something similar? Check out these vintage placemats.
Willy, Hooper, and I headed out to Arizona the other weekend to visit with Willy’s side of the family. You can browse through pics from our last visit there here, here, and here. I didn’t manage to take a single picture this time and I’m not sure why. Maybe it was that toddler that had his hands into everything or maybe it was just my pregnancy laziness. Not that I have nothing to show of the trip… Because I came back with plenty of loot. Browsing the thrift stores with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law has become one of my favorite things to do there. They know all the good spots. Here’s what I collected:
An adorable Raggedy Andy doll that now accompanies Hooper to bed. Cutest thing ever!
These children records. And yes, you saw it correctly, Puff the Magic Dragon is included. Boo-Ya!
This vintage book about a boy having his tonsils removed. My nurse instincts kicked in immediately and I had to have it.
This adorable fishing crewel. Thought it would be cute in either of the boys’ rooms.
I stumbled upon this table runner at a Goodwill and couldn’t think of anywhere to put it, but for pennies on the dollar I couldn’t resist. I’ll make it work somewhere or I’ll make something cool with it. This, I promise.
Gotta love a mickey mouse plate. It appears to be handmade. Also found at Goodwill.
I walked by this little cowboy, said “howdy”, he said “howdy” back and from that point on, I knew I was going to take him home with me. Also found at the Goodwill.
If you get something with Micky Mouse, you have to get something with Donald Duck. That’s a rule somewhere, no?
I plan on drilling holes in the bottom of these and planting plants in them. I got the idea from here.
Glass jars. A buck a piece. Beat that you overpriced Mason jars.
Mid-Century lamps. They came as a pair. I’m putting one in Hooper’s room and the other will have a nice home in the garage until a new home is found for it.
This pink Mexican blanket. One of my favorite finds, again, from the Goodwill. A lovely beach blanket. It lives in the back of my car now.
And some random clothing for the boys. I’m in love with that little plaid romper. And I’m quite fond of the Icelandic shirt, though I assure you, Willy and I are not Icelandic. Not even our mailman is Icelandic so don’t draw any wild conclusions.
Today’s Style de Hooper features all styles purchased from Etsy seller Lishyloo. So here’s a few blasts from the past of Hooper rockin’ vintage get-ups from one of my favorite Etsy shops. Thank you, Lishyloo, for making my boy look so dapper all the time.
Check out her store for yourself. She carries vintage clothing for children of all ages, in addition to vintage housewares and decor, books and toys, and even a few things for us women. Some of my favorite items she has listed right now are this pink baby blanket, this pink dress, and these Health-Tex overalls. If for nothing else, stop by to view the cutest little model ever.
Hot diggity damn have we had some warm days here in Southern California. We snuck down to the beach on Saturday and enjoyed lunch followed by a little stroll and some pigeon chasing. Here’s a special beach edition of Mamas & tykes, followed by some pics from our Saturday.
Who said nesting is only for birds? I’m in full nesting mode this week. We’ve transitioned Hooper to his other room, leaving the nursery ready to be messed with. And mess with it, I have. The drawers are stocked with newborn diapers and clothes for the first six months. I know, I rock. Next on the list is to clean. Not just a general clean, but a fierce clean. The kind of cleaning that has your husband wondering what you’re on and others wondering why there are rug burns on your knees. I have a few decorative things to do as well and then it will be set to go. I owe ya’ll a separate post on Hooper’s transition out of the crib and into his big boy bed, but for now just know that he is alive and so are we.
I think the pregnancy gods caught me almost slippin’ last week when I dared to label my pregnancies as “easy”. Seemingly the next day it’s like lightening struck in my right groin. I’m kinda being general when I say right groin. Oh hell, what I really mean is that my f’n vagina hurt, a lot, mostly on the right side. After yelling a few curse words as I tried to turn off my back, because lets face it, lying on your back with a baby in your belly down right sucks a fat one. But every time I tried to turn right or left, well, I became a sailor and cursed at the top of my lungs. Ya’ll should know that I have a sensitive husband. Sensitive not so much in the “did I hurt your feelings?” way, but more like sensitive in the “are you going to die?” way. He’s extreme in his sensitivity. So needless to say, he was overly concerned and asking if I needed to go to the hospital. I sent him to the freezer for an ice pack. Then I went to bed. I try to remind him from time to time that I’m pregnant, not dying. Oh Willy, you really are a precious little thing. The pain was gone when I woke up, but has returned sporatically since then.
My back pain has transformed into stiffness. It’s the inability to bend over and touch my toes or to twist from side to side. It’s that dang thing I’ve been calling “Van” jetting out from my abdomen, really. It’s in the way and it’s causing my back to feel tighter than 1980’s spandex. If I could just get a break from this pregnancy thing for 2 minutes and bust out a good crack, I think relief would flow through my spine like water down a creek. Some mornings I wake up thinking I’m going to birth this baby and before I even sneak a peek at his precious little face I’m gonna reach down, touch my toes, crack my neck from side to side, and then ask that he be placed in my arms. I’m joking, of course, but you get the idea.
As a sidenote, the dress I’m wearing is vintage and I’m in love with it. I originally got it with the intention of adding it to my post pregnancy prize pack but was delighted to find that it’s still suitable even with the baby bump. Next week, however, may be a different story… I think next weeks bump may cause it to bust at the seams.
My lovely friend Janet turned me on to this little book before Hooper was born. Gotta love the statement on the opening page: “Let’s get some things straight before I get old and uncool.”
So, to my dear Hooper & Van, mark my words before I’m wrinkled and shriveled and gumming my food, here are some rules to live by:
Stand up for the little guy. He’ll remember you.
Be a good listener. Don’t just wait your turn to talk.
On a road trip, offer to guy the first tank of gas.
Never pack more than you can carry yourself.
Make a hipster’s day. Donate old clothes to charity.
Root for the home team, even when they stink.
Learn to sail.
Remember the girl you’re with is somebody’s sister. And he’s perfectly capable of kicking your ass.
Don’t gloat. A good fried will do it for you.
Never under any circumstances ask a woman if she is pregnant.
Don’t date the bartender.
Be a regular at your local flea market.
Don’t be so eager to leave the kid’s table.
Get your pumpkins from a pumpkin patch.
Thank the bus driver.
Keep your passport current.
Write letters. On paper.
Make yourself useful on a boat. If you can’t tie knots, fetch the beers.
Drive across the county. Don’t rush.
Always stop at a lemonade stand. Tip well.
If you have to make more than one substitution, order something else.
Offer your seat to a woman, no matter how old she is.
You won’t always be the strongest or fastest. You can be the toughest.
When shaking hands, grip firmly and look him in the eye.
When making an acceptance speech, keep it short, lose the notes, and thank your dad.
Nothing is more important than family.
Love,
Mama
Want a copy for yourself? You can find it on Amazon here.
You may remember a short while ago when Willy and I were struggling with naming this growing boy in my belly. You can read my initial post here. In any event, we’ve decided on a name since then and have yet to waiver. Let me start with the story behind it…
Willy and I had been throwing names back and forth. There were a few that we would always come back to but none of them really resonated or stuck for whatever reason. We were in Hooper’s room playing and listening to music before he went to bed. “Warm Love” (one of my favorite songs) by Van Morrison was playing and I said, “What about Van?”. And well, it stuck. We both love it. So there you have it. His name will be Van. And he will be here next month. Ay-yi-yi.
As a side note, I’ve been looking for an old-school letter “V” similar to the “H” I have in Hooper’s room. In the midst of my hunt I came across these awesome prints by artist Paul Thurlby. I’m not so crazy about the “V” for vicious print, but some of the others became instant favorites. His numbers, illustrations, and typography are also out of this world cool. Here’s some of my favorites:
