eat your heart out

I eat two at a time.

Preferably two of the same color, at the same time.

Although green and yellow make a pretty good pair.

I like white the best.

I like orange the least.

I think there's a disproportionate number of pinks in a bag.

And a small number of whites.
Which makes me keep eating through the bag
in an effort to sift through the pinks to find the colorless ones.
Brach's is my favorite brand.*
They're kind of soft - "dissolvey" is what we call them in my family.

I rarely read the messages on the hearts.

It's mostly about sugar consumption.

I hate how the sugar film gets stuck all over my mouth, 
like a filthy sugar sweater.

But I can't stop eating them once I start.

How do you eat your hearts?

*Jess and I both agree that Brach's has increased the thickness of their hearts. Are we crazy?

deelish

She's sitting in the tub these days. 

(My left arm thanks her, although when she wants to recline, 

she just plops down, so technically she isn't sitting alone in the tub 

as my arm is ever present to catch her.)

She loves to watch the water fall and tries to "hold" it.

Mommy loves her Johnson's Bedtime Bath soap 

(we use it in the morning, thank you very much).

In fact, Mommy isn't going to tell her that there are other cleansing options 

until she moves out of the house to keep her smelling so delicious.

Nothing more delicious than a yummy smelling bathing beauty.

Photo from The Daily Annabelle. My apologies to those who have to see it twice. :)

time flies

One of the great ironies of life is that when you want time to pass it tends to creep sluggishly by, yet when you'd prefer to slow down, time speeds past you like a flash of light.

At BYU, I took a class during which we had to write one paper (a wonderful concept for an English major - the papers never cease really). However, we had to be prepared to read that paper aloud to the class on the last day. I dreaded this day. It wasn't that I thought my paper was poor - I thought it was fine. I had taken a few classes from the professor, one of my favorites, I knew his grading style and what he was looking for, and I was pretty sure I'd even get an A. The problem was that I have a real abhorrence for speaking in front of people. I can make conversation with just about anyone. But the speaking to people? I will do just about anything, including clean the fridge out (isn't that the worst household chore? I dread it), to avoid it.

During our last class, it was recognized that there would be a few people who didn't read their paper because there simply would not be enough time. Oh, how I prayed I could be one of those few. I sat there, my head slightly ducked but not so hidden so as to attract attention, watching the clock. The second hand moved slower than I've ever seen. Minutes seemed like hours while undergraduates shared their philosophical views of the working class in nineteenth century England (depressing, yes). But somehow I made it through those agonizing fifty minutes without being called on. My paper remained silent, and I survived possibly one of the longest hours of my life.

On the flip side, it's rather astonishing to me how minutes can fly by, even when you don't want them to, even when you're physically willing time to slow, begging it to crawl. It's so unreal to me that seven months ago today at (approximately) 6:27 p.m., I met this little girl.

The minutes since have fallen through the neck of the hour glass of life with alarming speed. There are nights when I dread putting my baby to bed because I know when she wakes up, she will be bigger. Another day will be gone and another day full of new milestones and discoveries awaits us, a prospect both unbelievably exciting but also a little sad. My little baby is growing so fast.

I have a favorite quote, one that hung above my bed during my single days. I have it mostly memorized I've read it so many times:

"Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." (Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Poet)

I try to live everything, every single moment, especially those I share with Annabelle. I know that some filter through my fingers unnoticed or poorly spent, but the seven months of motherhood I've experienced so far have been some of my favorite moments. Ever. While the minutes, hours, and days seem to literally fly, they are still some of the most wonderfully flying minutes I've ever known. 

I think that many of you would agree with me when I say it's nearly impossible to use words to describe the love you feel for your children or to describe the amazing and uniquely discernible joy of motherhood. What I can say, however, is that time flies. And somehow your small baby becomes a big (big, big) baby. And although time does indeed fly, the moments combine to be some of the most beautiful expanses of time you've ever known.

snowed in

We're snowed in. Quite literally. You see, when it snows in Durham, the city is somewhat paralyzed by a lack of vehicles and means to plow or melt snow. On top of that, it's cold enough that the snow will fall, begin to melt, but then freeze in a nice sheet of ice, which of course is non-negotiable for most vehicles. The biggest problem occurs when an additional layer of the fluffy stuff falls on top, creating the illusion of something somewhat manageable. Then, when cars attempt to plow through, they generally end up sliding around. So while our friends in the Northeast or those nestled at the base of the Rockies might think our plight of a couple inches somewhat comical, we are nevertheless, snowed in.

Let's just say we're enjoying our time indoors. (I made a pot of this delicious soup, deemed "restaurant style" by my dad, his highest culinary compliment, to celebrate and warm us up.) I actually love snow, as I've said many times. It wraps things up in a beautiful blanket of white. Granted, the the things being wrapped are frigid and probably don't share my sentiments. But to look upon, it's rather lovely, and there's something simply charming about being bundled up and crunching through the snow. 

Although Annabelle doesn't seem to agree. :)

the latest accessory

So initially I hated Annabelle's highchair. I bought it because I love Ikea's streamlined products. They're clean and simple. And although it's somewhat cliche (and I tend to be revolted by the trendy), someday I hope my home looks like it came out of Ikea. And because my kitchen is accented with red all over (much like a newspaper, ha), I loved that we could get her a highchair to match. I liked that all parts were plastic and easy to clean (I don't like the cushy seats with surfaces that required more than a wipe to clean). And the price tags of most highchairs were killing me. So I went with Ikea's Antilop.

When it arrived and Jess put it together, I stood there thinking, "This is it? What, should we put Belle's dolls in it?" It's small. It's short. The tray doesn't easily come off for cleaning. I looked into returning it. We'd basically have to pay Ikea to take it back, so I decided I'd swallow my pride and make it work.

To be perfectly honest, I love it now. I love that it's the runt of the litter, that it takes up just a small amount of floor space in our already squished square footage. It wipes clean in a jiffy, and although I do wish the tray would remove easier, at least she can smear baby oatmeal (loves the stuff) all over the place and it can be cleaned without any thought as to what to do with its soft parts. 

It's not the perfect highchair, but it works. And for its price tag, it definitely does the job. 

Plus, Annabelle looks way cute in it. And isn't that the reason why we buy anything? To accessorize our daughter?

I thought so. :)

lost baby

So some time within the last week, I lost my baby.

And what has come to stay in her place is a tantrum throwing if she can't have whatever mom has, can't crawl yet but wants to so bad and gets real mad when she falls on her face, ADULT CHILD.

Seriously? Tantrums already?

It's actually kind of cute.

And for the record, she's still pretty darn lovely most the time.

As long as she gets whatever she wants. ;)

NOTE: The above tantrum was being thrown because she wants the camera. Bad. My computer, the camera, our phones. She must have. Or else!

trial size

As you could probably guess, I am a TOTAL sucker for "new and improved" candy bars and treats. I try almost any new candy bar I see. Like Strawberried Peanut Butter M&Ms (yes, they took the liberty of creating a verb out of strawberry and yes, they're delicious.)

And so, I thought I would warn you all: DO NOT TRY THESE

OR PARTICULARLY THIS {amazing}

unless you would like to gain back any weight you had previously lost by starving yourself {dieting and exercising}.

pen in hand

As an English major, I spent considerable time marking books. It was for my own good, of course, but I also love finding little nuggets of beauty or truth buried deep in a novel. Truth be told, I was marking books before I started being graded to do so. However, since my exit from school, I haven't found myself reading with pen or pencil in hand very often. This is probably because I'm reading too fast (I'm a chronic skimmer, it's bad, and there's always something else I should be doing, you know, like changing a diaper or something). It might also be because the number of books I read has plummeted. Sometimes I long for the days when reading was required. Or the days when I was small enough that my biggest accomplishment was finishing a chapter book and I didn't feel guilty for it.

This year, I want to try and read more. This may mean I read two books all year, but I want to make the effort. I sincerely believe there aren't many things that are better for your mind than reading. Books hold worlds and dreams and ideas. There is nothing like a room full of books to inspire a person.

The first week of the year, I read Forest Born, the fourth book in a series of fantasy type children's literature by Shannon Hale (I've previously read the other three). And I found myself lost in their beautiful Forest world. I was particularly caught up in the thoughts of the main character, Rin, a person I'm sure I would've been friends with, a person I could understand so well. I love good children's literature - the simple complexity, stories woven with such precision that both a child and adult can fall into their pages.

Just yesterday, I finished The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows. And for the first time in years, I read with a pen in hand. It's a novel told entirely through letters. Beautiful letters that speak so perfectly of heartache, love, despair, and with the most precise blend of wit and humor.The letters tell the story of a (fictional) author, Juliet, who finds unlikely friendships in a group of people who live in Guernsey, a city in the Channel Islands that was occupied by the German during World War II. The book takes place after the war, and the letters are a beautiful collection of their memories. Of course, the story is also one of Juliet and how she is changed by these people and their beautiful Guernsey.

I am in love with this book. Some of its passages were so perfectly crafted I wanted to eat them. I loved the format - the letters allow the characters, each of them instead of just one narrator, to speak so freely and with parenthetical asides that made me smile. I long to go to Guernsey and meet these (fictional) people, live in their world of survival and love. And so I plan on turning around and reading this book again. I can't wait to go back. With a pen in hand, of course.

hope for haiti

We watched the Hope for Haiti fundraising event tonight.

My heart felt as though it was cracking when I thought about the babies that didn't have mommies to hold them.

Especially the helpless infants.

I thought about the mommies that have empty arms. It made my arms ache.

My baby, no longer an infant, sat next to me, her hand on my lap, her chest rattling with congestion.

More than once I gathered her - my hope - up in my arms to tell her I loved her.

I kissed her chubby cheeks, breathed in her still-sweet baby smell.

I told Jess we could either adopt a baby or donate some money.

We made a donation.

But I still want a Haitian baby.

I know I can't save all of the world's orphans. But I think I could save one. 

Or at least give it a pair of willing arms to hug away the sadness.

ma MA!

So it appears that Annabelle has learned when she says, "Mama," she will get my attention. Apparently even when she was out with Daddy, when he was busy shopping and not entertaining her, she gave him a stern, "Ma! Ma!" to get his attention.

This morning, Annabelle fell asleep for her morning nap. And while she's been sick (an awful cold, complete with runny eyes), and napping is rather sporadic, it seemed she was out like a light. So I turned on her sound machine (oh sound machine, how we love thee) and thought I'd quickly take a shower. When I got out a few minutes later I heard:

"Ma, ma, ma....ma, ma....ma....MA MA!"

Apparently she wasn't ready for her nap. ;)