a thousand words

A picture is worth a thousand words. That's what they say. But truthfully, it's not often that I feel a photo really can capture a thousand words. I mean, I find photos beautiful, striking, memorable. The photos I take of Belle are priceless to me. Jess' photos of Tokyo are so dear to me I cry if I look long enough. But still - a thousand words? Maybe it's my subconscious counting of syllables, as though editing has trained my brain to value word count way more than I should.

However, when we stopped by Jess' grandparents house so they could visit their first great-grandbaby, Jess grabbed his camera (if you can simply "grab" what has become his camera and its entourage of equipment). And these photos. Oh, these photos. The words are dripping by the thousands.

There's something about the beauty in their wisdom-filled faces contrasted with her baby face. The juxtoposition of old and new in the most beautiful way. There's something about the love they've developed for decades that radiates from them. Their faces frame their smiles in a way that only experience can. I swear their eyes twinkle. There's something about the furniture, the lighting, the way their home is frozen in time, a more simple time, when life was easier, right? Because we always assume life was easier "back then." But in these photos, I swear life is easier.

And the cliche, the thousand words, it's in every one of these photos. Every picture has a thousand words trapped in their eyes, their expressions, their love.

half year

Dear Annabelle:

Six months ago today, I met you for the first time. But it didn't feel like I was meeting you for the first time. You didn't feel like a stranger at all. No, you actually felt more like a finally. Finally I had you in my arms.

I remember noticing your tiny, perfect features, particularly your nose. I remember thinking you looked something like your Great Grandpa Christensen, which is funny now, but I think it had something to do with your features being all squishy and swollen, something that our faces do as we age, and ironically, often how they begin. I remember feeling overwhelming love, undeniable peace. I remember that even then, you turned your face into your blanket, something you do every night and every nap. In fact, I don't know that you could sleep without something to snuggle. I remember waiting for your first cry, the relief I felt when it came. And I remember when I finally got to hold you.

I never wanted to put you down. Indeed, I requested that you stay in my room that night so I could watch you, watch your chest rise and fall, memorize your face. You grunted a lot in your sleep, so I didn't sleep much more than a few winks, but I fell in love with you that night. And although that was the first of many sleepless nights, I never could get enough of you. And still, six months later, I can't get enough. It seems like just yesterday you made your entrance. It seems like just yesterday I held your tiny infant body, still purple in the fingers and toes, and felt a blanket of love wrap us both up so tight.

The other night I went and saw a movie. It's the first movie I've seen since your birth. And while it may have had something to do with how slow the movie was, the entire time I sat in my cushy theater seat, I wished for nothing more than to be home with you, sitting on the floor, playing with your toys, watching your face light up with recognition, your lips pucker with concentration, your hands very deliberately grab everything in reach, your smile turn up at me.

Thank you for coming to me six months ago. You make life new and beautiful. You make the simple things incredible. You bring more happiness to a person than I knew possible.

I love you my sweet Belle.

Love,
Mommy

on new moon

Sometimes I'm a holdout just for the sake of being a holdout. When I received an invite to Facebook from a friend and saw that my grandmother's sister is on, I realized that possibly I am the last and only living holdout when it comes to Facebook. But my postponed viewing of New Moon wasn't so much because I was being an obnoxious holdout so much as it was because Twilight was so UNDERWHELMING and didn't give me much of a reason to get excited about its sequel.

But I finally saw it. And here's what I have to say:

1. The vampires look so much better than they did in Twilight. As in not totally lame. Thank you big budget for allowing Carlisle to look almost like my imagination made the vampires look. Their lipstick wasn't half bad, and their eyes were rad. R-A-D.

2. Jacob's long hair. Come on. Why bother with that ratty, nasty thing?

3. The first time a werewolf emerged from the brush, I laughed outloud. It was pretty good CGI, but still, I laughed. I also snickered a few other times when the rest of the audience was swooning.

4. Why are these movies so dang slllloooowwww? Arg. More than once, I wished I'd brought my pillow so I could take a snooze while the always moody characters worked through their angst, always averting their eyes as they spoke so emotionally. (Seriously - why can't they talk and look at each other at the same time?)

5. The moment that Bella runs to save Edward and flies into his arms, that moment? That is the reason that pre-pubescent girls, stay at home moms, and grandmas alike, plus some of your husbands, love Twilight. It's that moment that we all want - we're searching for it, longing for it, hoping for it. We all want to feel that love, both from someone and for someone. That all consuming, overwhelming, can't-see-straight kind of love. And I think that some of us have it, or more correctly, have had moments of that love. Some of us are still looking, and some of us are trying to find it again.

Whatever the case, that is why even if you're in the Taylor Lautner camp (yes, he's wayyyy hot), there is something in you that longs for an Edward of your own. Not a vampire, not someone who secretly wants to eat you, but someone who loves you, every single ounce of you.

But still. I wish I'd had a pillow.

the four dresses

As many of you will recall, we didn't find out if we were having a boy or girl when I was pregnant with Belle. (Remember - "Ha! It's a girl!") Due to this lack of information, my mom basically crocheted an entire layette for either a boy or girl, including sweaters, burp cloths, blankets, and booties. Included in the pretty little pieces were blessing (christening) ensembles. The beautiful dress that she had crocheted for Annabelle was tiny. Too tiny for her projected baby blessing date at the end of the summer.

So Grandma and her flying fingers had another dress made before the sun rose the next day - still beautiful, just a little bigger.

Then, we decided that we'd do the blessing at the end of the year, at Christmas, when more family members could assemble.

So Grandma's flying fingers went to work again and created a dress for a six month old. Of course it was still exquisite, and Annabelle considered herself lucky to be worthy of yet another dress.

And then Annabelle decided that being average was way over-rated. And the "big" dress was soon obsolete.

Grandma went to work once again, this time making a dress for a one year old baby, adding length for Belle's new height. She added a new (bigger) sweater, with beautiful matching pink trim and rose buttons, and then created a new bootie pattern that would accommodate her bigger feet.

And finally, after four dresses, our baby Belle was blessed in a dress made (four times) by her Grandma.

She was exquisite, the blessing was tender, and the fourth dress was the most beautiful one yet.

Thank you Grandma.

we wish you

a merry christmas!

merry christmas eve

Christmas is a totally different experience when you're small. Everything is new and magical. For Belle, it's mostly about the PAPER. CAN I PLEASE EAT THE PAPER? Someday though, she'll be waiting to hear Santa's sleigh bells, just like I did (and still do when I'm at my parents'). Someday she'll be hoping and wishing that she got that one perfect gift. And the magic of Christmas that is a distant memory of mine is suddenly being revived. A breath of fresh air has been blown into Christmas.

And it's magical.

We had our own Christmas in Durham before we left. This is Belle opening her first present - a doll named Belle, from Beauty and the Beast (it's the baby version).

cutest. thing. ever.

 

So the husband spent some time in Zion National Park a few days ago. It's possibly his favorite place on earth to set up his tripod and snap snap snap away. He takes hundreds - and I mean hundreds - of photos. And they're so beautiful. We don't always accompany him on his adventures, so I love that so much of what he sees is preserved. I just perused his most recent collection, and came across this sweet little thing.

Possibly the cutest face I've ever seen.

Next to this one, of course.

But a close second, most definitely. :)

the newest fad diet

So if conventional weight loss methods - diet, exercise, starvation, liposuction, etc. - don't work in getting rid of those pesky last ten pounds, here's a suggestion: cut several inches off your ponytail.

I feel as light as a feather.

A feather that is a tad more billowy in the mid region...

...but a feather nonetheless.

it's beginning to look a lot like...

yum yummy