Palm Springs, Part 1

I always imagined Palm Springs to be a ridiculously hip desert hideaway with sprawling mid-century homes and wall after wall begging to have you stand in front of it for a picture. Not to say I was wrong, the mid-century homes are definitely there; hiding beneath the surface like the pocket of your pants. But Palm Springs is also… weird, for lack of better words. I told Willy it reminded me of the wheelers from the Wizard of Oz; partly abandoned with an eerie mix of dessert wanderers, tourists, retired old folk, homeless, and prostitutes.
Willy’s been having to go often for work and we tag along when we can. Translation: We spend a lot of time in random hotels jumping on furniture.
Part 2 is coming your way tomorrow.

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Arizona, On the Farm part 2

Better late than never is what they say, right? I had loads of pics to

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go through (sorry for the photo bomb). In any case, here’s the recap:

We spent the weekend hanging with family, celebrating a new addition that’s right around the corner (I’m going to be a first-time aunt), and even catching a spring training baseball game. The weather was perfect and waking up with the warm rays of sun beaming through the window felt good. The cows are a bigger and bigger hit with Hooper each time we come to visit.
We returned home with more than we anticipated. Sarah, as I mentioned before, had a horrible ear infection in both ears and Hooper contracted rotavirus (possibly unrelated, who knows). In any case, it was a lovely drive and a nice time spent with those we love.
Side note: Special congrats to Vera for winning the DiaNoche Designs giveaway.

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Arizona, from the road

I rarely turn down a road trip. One of my favorite books is On The Road by Jack Kerouac. There’s something about being on the open road that takes me back to when Janet and I drove all the way to Louisiana and back. I love driving and I love pit stops and I love the random restaurants along the way, filled with truckers, passersby, and the few patrons that call the roadside stop home interspersed in a sea of strangers. The open road has a way of making the world feel both big and small at the same time. And I love that too.
Both boys travel well. Van gets cranky only when he’s ready to eat and I think Hoop would be content staring out the window until the car ran out of gas. We took Sarah too and there’s one secret I must share that made her a trooper as well: Benadryl.
The drive from California to Arizona is about 6 hours (8 hours with kids) and somehow we made it door to door with good attitudes albeit having to juggle back to back to back conference calls for work, poop that required a change of clothes (yup, you all know how that goes), newly scabbed knees, growling stomachs, and shotty naps. Hash tag: It won’t always work out this well.
More from Arizona to come.

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Bits + Pieces, Arizona

We spent the other weekend in Arizona to celebrate Willy’s grandparents wedding anniversary (more to come on that later). It’s always stressful thinking about traveling with the kiddos. My mind gets overworked in the days leading up to the trip thinking of all the things we’ll need to bring with us and how we’ll fit it all and how we’ll carry it all. Packing for myself used to be overwhelming but remembering all the little things I need for the family makes me look like one giant cry baby before. After all was said and done, the only thing I forgot was Hooper’s tooth brush. And well, his teeth didn’t rott. It all went fairly smoothly, actually. Lesson to self: calm the F down.
Hooper was a trooper on the plane. We brought some snacks and toys in his trusty suitcase for the short one hour flight. As soon as the plane landed, Hoop held his two little pointer fingers up in the air and proclaimed, “ghin!” (aka “again”). So ya, it was good. Van breastfed twice and fell asleep.
The only thing cooler than the plane ride was riding the tractor and the only thing cooler than riding the tractor was sitting on the tractor to watch fireworks. Indeed, it was a nice trip. I’ll share some more photos next week.
Happy Friday!

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Then & Now

I struggle with Christmas. It’s not so much of the hustle and bustle during a time that’s supposed to be relaxing, I can handle that; It’s the gift giving and consumerism part of it I have a hard time with. When it comes down to it, I don’t want to raise my children to be greedy little bitches. And shit, I don’t want all the praise going to some fake fat bearded guy when I was the one who worked hard to put Thomas the god damn train under the tree. Okay, I joke about the latter but I’m not joking about the greedy little bitches. The reality of it all is that family is the greatest gift of all. I know, because I was young and dumb, that muchkins or even teenagers for that matter can’t quite grasp the maturity that’s behind that statement. I’m wondering how to start instilling the gift of love and family early on. Willy and I have always been kinda scrougey during the holidays. We never celebrate Valentine’s Day. And it’s not because we don’t love each other. I love Willy with my entire heart. He’s my best friend. We’ve always felt Christmas and Valentine’s Day were centered around consumerism instead of actual love. So how do you replace the gifts with love?
Before we had kids, Willy and I would travel during Christmas time. It worked out best because it was the only time we would have off work or school. We spent one year in the Dominican Republic and another year in Nicaragua. It’s interesting to compare Christmas here to Christmas in countries where greed and consumerism hasn’t taken over. In the Dominican, there was one celebration and everyone in the town was there. They played music and danced, but there were no gifts. In fact, we were the only ones handing out baseball cards and little trinkets to the kids that we had brought from the states.
I’m wondering if we should start a family tradition of traveling for Christmas. Going through old pictures is watering a seed that has been sitting there for sometime. It sounds dreamy. And I’ve been itching to put a backpack on these rusty shoulders of mine. But I don’t want to ruin it either. What kid doesn’t have the fondest memories of waking up to find out Santa had been there the night before.
Your thoughts?
In any event, we had a nice Christmas. Hooper slept on our drive up to Santa Barbara (he’s such a trooper in the car) and Van greeted everyone with smiles and the occasional spit up. Hooper has yet to catch on to the whole present idea anyway so I figure we have another year to figure it all out. We didn’t buy the boys anything this year. Hooper had a good time opening his “prizes” from the advent calendar and he opened a few gifts from our very generous relatives. He woke up the morning after and went straight back to his cars anyhow. 

I can’t begin to tell you what these photos, these memories, do to my soul.
Hope you all had a wonderful Christmas.

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San Diego

Everyone knows that when you have a baby there are sleepless nights and bumps in the road. If I were hydrated enough, I would have already shed a few tears, but I think Van sucked every last bit of moisture out of me over the weekend. I’m talking about the dreadful three month growth spurt.
When Hooper was three months old, we stupidly decided to take a trip to Hawaii. I say stupidly because it felt like we were imprisoned by a different set of four walls. At the time, we attributed his waking nearly every hour to a change in scenery. Then I remember reading something about a growth spurt at three months and I thought it could be that too. Don’t you feel like the entire first year is full of excuse making: oh he must be teething, oh he must be growing, oh he must be cold, oh he must be tired, oh he must be hungry… The amount of excuses you can make are endless. I’ve come to believe you really ought to excuse the entire first year of any baby’s life.
I digress. We spent the weekend in San Diego where we met up with our wedding photographers to do a family photo shoot (If you’re in the socal area, I highly recommend these kind folks). After the shoot, we met up with my sister and her boyfriend and watched the baseball world series. Sounds fun, right? It was, until we tried to go to sleep. Van woke up every hour, on the hour, from 11pm to 3am to nurse. Mix in three separate shit explosions and you’ll know why I’ve decided to be a zombie for Halloween. I’m so tired I can’t even bring myself to humor you about the situation. But I will say this: The morning found us with a trash can full of shitty diapers and a water bottle, next to Willy’s side of the bed, filled with urine. A five dollar Voss water bottle, mind you. Why, you ask? Oh just because Hooper was sleeping soundly in his playpen in the bathroom, and well, when you gotta go you gotta go. Needless to say, we had a fun day planned with discussions of Sea World or the Zoo or Balboa Park, but we opted to head home after breakfast. Total flunk. No more traveling during the three month growth spurts. Note to self, engraved on my forehead, for next time. Should there be a next time. And after this weekend, I’m reconsidering.
Not to say the weekend was a total flunk. It was awesome to meet back up with our wedding photographers. I admittingly have a girl crush on Jaime, the wife of the husband and wife duo. It was also nice to see my sister and her man. And even with the struggles, it was nice to get away. But boy does it feel good to be home.
Today is my first day back to work. I have a 12 hour shift ahead of me. Keeping everyone on the east coast in my thoughts today with hurricane Sandy doing a good job of keeping things in perspective. Stay safe.

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San Francisco

As promised, a wee little video from our first family road trip to San Francisco. Hope you enjoy. I think I enjoy making these videos a little too much…

San Francisco from The Stork & The Beanstalk on Vimeo.

San Francisco from The Stork & The Beanstalk on Vimeo.
And in case you missed it, we have a giveaway from etsy seller Truly Sanctuary going on now! You can enter by visiting their online store and leaving a comment on yesterday’s post. They are also offering a 15% discount off your entire purchase with promo code STORKANDTHEBEANSTALK. I’m told this promo code is good for a while, but don’t procrastinate, the holidays are a’ comin’ (just hear sleigh bells jingling, ring-ting-tingling).

Bits + Pieces, from San Francisco

 

 

I went to San Francisco for the first time when I was in Middle School. If I remember correctly, who went on the trip was based on a lottery system. I remember running up to the list posted on the outside of the classroom door, frantically searching for my name. Already feeling like a winner for making the cut, we boarded a bus and like that, were off. I vividly remember driving into the city and taking it all in. I watched from the bus as a bum pissed right onto the street. I saw gay people holding hands. Buses running on cables. Steam coming up from the subway that ran below. Something about the city made my 6th grade heart beat faster. I knew I’d want to return, and years later, I did.
I lived in San Francisco for five years. I moved back to southern California to be able to afford traveling around the world, which was the only thing that justified leaving the city.
Now you got me in reminiscent mode. Back to present time. We drove, stopping along the way to breastfeed (sigh), and arrived in SF on one of the busiest weekends ever. The Giants made the playoffs and were playing, there was also a 49er’s game, an Oracle convention, a Justin Bierber concert for goodness sakes, and the Blue Angels were flying overhead. Needless to say, it was more expensive than usual. Special thanks to my in-laws who gifted us part of our stay for our anniversary.
We spent a day at the zoo, which I highly recommend, and spent the rest of the weekend driving around, eating pizza on Haight street, and watching the Blue Angels fly overhead as we sat in Golden Gate Park with the lunatics and addicts and runaways. Can’t wait to go back. Love that it’s only a drive away.
I have a wee little video from our first family Road Trip coming soon. Until then, happy Friday!
pssst… Stay tuned, we have a special giveaway from etsy seller Truly Sanctuary coming Monday (woot, woot).

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Fasten Your Seat Belts

This post is dedicated to first time moms traveling for the first time because I’ll bet any mom that has traveled with an infant more than once will have additional tips and tricks of the trade. Feel free to share by using the comment link below. Here we go…
-When you purchase your flight, you’ll need to let the airlines know you are traveling with an infant. If you buy your ticket online, some sites will have a box you check but others won’t. Sometimes you have to pick up the good ol’ telephone and give em’ a little jingle to inform them of the parasite traveling on you. They don’t need to know if you have crabs or lice, however, just a baby. You’ll also need to make a copy of your baby’s birth certificate or birth record or immunization record (anything that has his birthday on it). Bring this with you, as you’ll need it to check in. I usually leave a copy in the diaper bag because it’s easy to forget. If you do forget it, they can call your pediatrician’s office and have them fax something over… but that only works if the office is open and even then there is the obvious delay. It pays to have your shit together, trust me.
-Pack the night before. Leave a little note for the time fairy begging and pleading for this to be made possible. Leave a list on top of your suitcase for things you’ll need to add in the morning. For me, this list included things like the white noise maker (which we use every night), the swaddle sac (also used every night), pumping supplies (used every morning).
-Come up with a breastfeeding game plan. I like to feed just before we leave the house and then during take off and landing. Make sure you pack your hooter hider or blanket in your carry on. Or let it all hang out. Seriously, the seats are so close together that the weird guy next to you would probably have to lean forward and kink his neck in your direction to sneak a peek of your ta-tas anyway. And if you do spy a creeper, just tell em’ your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. And then squirt em’ in the face.
-Have your travel companion (if you’re so lucky) drop you off curbside with all the stuff… because lets face it, if you’re traveling with a little munchkin, you’ll have the dreaded “stuff” I speak of: luggage, stroller, car seat, car seat base, sanity, good attitude, patience… it call gets dropped off curbside. As a side note, it’s easier to travel with a snap-n-go. I leave Van in the car seat/snap-n-go until boarding and then check the whole contraption in at the gate. You can pick up the proper tags at the gate. I check the base of the car seat in (which is always free of charge), along with the big luggage (not always free of charge. Screw you, Delta.), before going through security. As a side note, if you’re not knowledgeable about hooking the car seat into the car, you should review this before you leave to make the transition into the car at your destination smooth. I always review it with Willy before I leave if I’m traveling by myself. There’s nothing worse than getting to where you’re going only to be held up by trying to figure out the car seat. This situation is made worse if you have a crying baby to top it off. Save yourself the frustration.
-When you check in, inquire if the flight is full. Try to hold your infant in your arms when you ask (to rake in the sympathy points). And if your baby is cute (ha! I joke, they’re all cute), turn him toward the lady (fingers crossed it’s a lady… or an older man… or just a sympathetic person) and lift up baby’s arm to give em’ a little wave. If the flight is not full, ask if they could kindly leave the seat next to you open. This has happened to me several times and each of these times I felt like a lottery winner. Seriously, it’s the best.
Some airlines don’t assign seats and allow you pick your seat as you get on to the plane. If this is the case, don’t clean the spit up off your baby’s onesie and fart so there’s a nice aroma in the air as they pass you (because they will pass you. No one wants to sit by a baby, let alone a smelly baby. Despite their reluctance to be your neighbor, these will be the same people that tell you how cute your baby is and praise you for how good your baby was. These lovely compliments only come after the plane has landed and only if your baby was seen and not heard. No one says anything nice beforehand, carefully reserving the right to hate you and your child should your child ruin their flight).
If your baby does cry, try all your tricks (duh, right?). If nothing works, get over it. It’s not your fault. You don’t have any more control than the drunken fool two rows behind you. Hate the game, not the player = Hate the high altitude ear poppin’ pain, not the baby. If you get a dirty look, give em’ the good ol’ tongue. You thought I was going to say finger, huh? Nope, the old-school stickin’ your tongue out like a sassy second grader is the card I play in this situation. Really though, as you walk off the plane leave it all behind and enjoy your trip.
-How did we already get on the plane without mentioning the dreaded security? Back to before you get the whole shebang on the plane… Going through security can be a pain the ass with or without a baby. As fate would have it, it seems as though every time we wheel up to security, the baby is asleep. When the sleeping baby was Hooper and I was a first time mom, I couldn’t believe they’d make me wake a sleeping baby. I thought for sure I’d be an exception to whatever rule. Turns out the TSA agents are not the ones gloating over a sleeping child. Nor are they the ones responsible for getting that child back to sleep. Thus, they don’t give a shit about you and your sleeping baby. Just like the shoes and the belt and the wallet and every last straggling dime in your pocket, the car seat goes onto the belt. As a result, you must wake your little one up and carry him through with you. This never fails to piss me off and I always have to remind myself that I ought to hate the terrorists, not the TSA agent. But, without fail I leave security wanting to slap someone. In any case, this is why you pack your patience and good attitude.
-If you’re traveling with breast milk, review both the law (you can bring milk on a plane, even if it exceeds the 4oz. limit) and storage instructions. While I was in Utah, I kept to my pumping schedule (I pump 2 to 3 times a day in addition to breastfeeding) and thus had milk to bring back with me. Because milk cannot be frozen, then thawed, then frozen again, I stored my milk in the fridge while in Utah, then packed it with a bag of ice for the flight, and then froze it when I got home. If you’re going on a long flight with milk, it’s best to bring a zip lock bag and refill the ice as you travel to keep the milk cold. You can get ice from a restaurant near your gate as well as from the flight attendants. If you’re worried about the TSA agents giving you trouble, you may want to print out a copy of what the law says to keep with you. I did this once for piece of mind, but honestly have never had a problem.
Hope these tips are helpful. Feel free to share your tips and tricks too! Best of luck and hope I’m not the unlucky lady (did I really just refer to myself as a lady? I prefer girl… adult girl) who gets stuck sitting next to you and your crying smelly child. I’ll totally give you the stink eye. Just kidding.
As a side note… If you are a man reading this… or even a nice non-child totting woman… help the lady and her baby out. Hold the door, help squish her carry-on into that much too tiny overhead compartment, offer to hold her baby (only if you really want to hold him, of course) while she buckles her seat belt… I cannot tell you how many people have walked right past me while I’ve struggled to get a stroller up stairs. I silently say very mean things to them and if, by chance, they trip… I laugh and roll past them.

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Meet Your Mom.

Dear Hooper & Van,
You’ll experience things in life that have a great impact on who you become. For me, it was the summer of 2006 and it was the trip you will hear stories from for the rest of your lives. It wasn’t just any trip, it was the trip. Much of my perspective and outlook on life today was built on those few months of that summer when the sun scorched our skin and our curiosity lead the way.
We arrived at the pyramids, crossing one more wonder of the world off our list of “yet-to-see”(We arrived in Egypt after visiting the Taj in India). We’ve all seen the pyramids photographed in every light and from every angle, but seeing them through my own two eyes was like being taken back in time. Cross the road to the entrance and poof!, magically you’re taken back thousands of years. The seemingly endless Sahara desert stretched further than my eyes could wander and off in the distance camels and horses roamed up, over, and across the sand dunes. Every so often I was tempted to wipe the dirt from my eyes and turn around on my camel to glance back across the street at the KFC in an effort not to play games with my mind, which was suddenly confused as to what year it was, what land I was in, and how the hell I mysteriously ended up in King Tut’s neighborhood. “Walk like an Egyptian” kept playing in my head. That, and the thought that the seven dwarfs may have been involved in the pyramid building process; For the entrance into the pyramid was made for none other than Dopey, Sleepy, and Grumpy alike. I remember being taken back by the grand scale of the outside versus the claustrophobic inside which was seemingly just enough space for Snow White to rest peacefully.
But my memory of the pyramids themselves is not what I want to share with you. Instead, I’d like to talk about the bottle of Coke you see me holding in the picture above. If you look closely, you’ll notice the Coke is full. Why, you may be thinking, is the refreshing Coke full when I’m on a camel in the desert in 100+ degree weather? Because the Coke was also hot. Very hot. Too hot to drink. Which begs the question I know you’ll be asking next: Why would I buy a warm Coke? To which I’d answer, I didn’t buy it. Well, not initially at least. It was kindly given to me by the man leading us around on the camel. Only “kindly” isn’t really the right word. He insisted I take the Coke, even after I sincerely said “No, thank you”. And by “given to me”, I quite literally mean placed in my hands. So to be polite, I took it. And, to be polite, I took the smallest of sips. It was flat and warm, as I suspected. When the camel tour was over, the man helped me off and held out his hand for more money. He didn’t speak English, but it was made quite clear that it was the Coke I owed him for; The Coke I initially refused. The Coke I only took one sip of. The Coke that was flat and warm. Just as the situation started to get heated, I gave him some money and vowed never to be polite again.
Not everything in the world is fair and not everyone in the world is nice. Don’t be afraid to trust people, but know there are scam artists. Don’t become one of them. Offer your guests a cold and refreshing beverage and tell em’ it’s on the house.
Oh ya, save your money and visit the pyramids. And go with your best friend. It’s worth it.
Love,
Mama

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Utah, Part 1

I spent this past weekend in Utah, with my best friend. My heart is warm every time I’m with her. I feel inspired by her mere presence. If it sounds like I love her, it’s because I do. Every girl needs a best friend they truly love. Mine is Janet.
When we’re together, anything feels possible. The world feels small again. I swear I hear opportunity knocking on my doorstep and the footsteps of ideas running through my head. She leaves me feeling motivated and confident. Every time.
Hope you enjoy this little video of our time together. And thank you, J, for an epic weekend… The weekend where your Carla met my Van. They don’t know it, but their lives will never be the same 😉

Utah, Part 1 from The Stork & The Beanstalk on Vimeo.

Bits + Pieces + Realizations, from Maui

Maui Realizations.
-Traveling with a toddler is hard. Forget about the near impossible task of traveling with a grumpy toddler, traveling with a happy go-lucky busy toddler is almost impossible too. It didn’t help matters that some chick tried to get onto the plane sick and couldn’t manage to even make it to her seat. We had to wait for a customer service representative to “escort” her off the plane and then had to wait even longer for a clean up crew to clean up the throw up see left behind. It was like starting with a full tank of gas and then dropping to nearly empty before even leaving the runway. Oh yes, there ought to be an asterisk attached to my opening realization that traveling with a toddler is hard. The asterisk would read: And traveling with a toddler while seven months pregnant is harder. That little boy inside of me has quite the limited room as is and having an external little munchkin pushing further on the littler munchkin made this mama short of breath real fast. Bless the flight attendant who pointed out two open seats, allowing Hooper to have his own seat. This wonderful occurrence has happened a few times while traveling with Hooper and it makes such a big difference to my own comfort. It does not, however, change the fact that he nearly refused to sit in his seat. He pulled all the magazines out of the seat in front of him, he took the tray down and then pushed it back up (apologies were made to the people in front of us), played peek-a-boo with the people behind us (more apologies were made), ate the snacks that fell on the ground from the little girl next to him, walked up and down the aisles, you get the idea. He had gotten up so early in the morning for the flight that I was certain he would nap. He did nap, for about 20 minutes until my ass was fully numb, my left foot was tingling, my back was beyond aching, and I took the risk of lying him down on the open seat next to me. He woke almost immediately and never went back to sleep. So, it was a long flight there but he was happy and smiley regardless of appearing busier than a crackhead.
-Holding Hooper on that flight against my belly while the little one inside threw kicks and punches reminded me that soon my attention will be divided. I thought of this fact often throughout the trip. Every time I felt a kick I envisioned having to stop what I was doing and turn my attention away from Hooper. I feel some sadness regarding not being able to give Hooper my full attention in the near future. I worry less about how he’ll handle it and more about how I’ll handle it. Is that weird? I had a conversation with a friend who said she cried for three weeks after she gave birth to her second child. Even though her first child handled it well, she felt like she was cheating on him with the new baby. I’m trying to prepare myself to handle this transition in the most healthy of ways, but I’m sure what that means yet.
-Moments in motherhood, like life, are about perspective. For those 20 minutes Hooper was asleep on me on the plane, before the numb ass, tingling foot, and aching back, everything was perfect. I could stare at that boy sleep all day long. His weightless body and ability to give himself over to me fully is the most beautiful thing. He was perfectly peaceful. But, it’s momentary. Soon your ass is asleep, the fingers in the arm he’s resting on begin to tingle, it gets harder to feel your foot, your reluctant to uncross your legs for fear of waking your sleeping angel, and well, the moment of perfect peace passes. As I laid him on the empty seat, feeling incredibly grateful and indebted to all flight attendants from here and out, he instantly woke up. He never went back to sleep and for the remainder of the flight I was one of those hammers on the arcade game trying tirelessly to knock down the weasel every time he’d pop up. So you have a choice: call it a good flight and praise the lord for the moment he was asleep on your chest and the fact the flight was tantrum and tear free or call it horrible because you worked the whole time. It’s a matter of perspective and the choice is up to you.
-I noticed a woman at the beach watching Hooper as he mosied back and forth to the ocean with his bucket of water. She asked how old he was and mentioned she had a 19 month old at home. I studied her sitting in her lounge chair with her magazine, her husband next to her, and said “enjoy the freedom!”. She smiled in such a way that made me realize she was missing her son. I realized in this moment that being a mom is a double edge sword. It’s hard when you’re in full mom mode and it’s hard when you’re not. It’s a challenge, in my opinion, to enjoy the time alone with your husband when you’re both missing your little one at home. So as she watched Hooper and missed her son, I watched her and missed time alone with my husband. We both had something great in that moment, yet we both had to sacrifice something to be in that moment. The yin and yang, push and pull of life. Again, it’s a matter of perspective. 

Aloha

We leave today for Hawaii. The last time we were there, Hooper was 11 months old and the memory of our time there is synonymous with a personality explosion. It’s the beginning point of when I can say the real fun began. I look at these pictures of Hooper and I and can’t help but envision both of my boys in this photo. Baby #2 may not have a presence in these photos and the pregnancy test was definitely not even positive at this point in time, but I know for certain those cells were dividing and doing many miraculous things behind the scene. Oh life, you are such a beautiful thing.
I won’t be able to post any pics from Hawaii until we return, but you can follow me on Instagram by clicking here or on the link on the right hand side of the blog. I’ll be instagraming it up the whole time!

Bits + Pieces, A Family Getaway

We are back from the mountains and had a splendid time indeed. There was lots of nap taking, ice cream and pizza eating, thrift store picking, movie watching, and family memories made. Oh yes, and that fresh air wasn’t too shabby either. Not to mention that on our last morning we stopped for breakfast before making the drive back home and consumed probably the best pancake ever known to man and just as I was biting into that buttermilk goodness, snow started falling. It was like a parting gift with a tag attached that said “come back soon”. And now we can’t wait to return. Here are some snapshots from our extended weekend.