While discussing baby proofing our apartment now that Felicity is mobile Eugenio says, "We should look into getting one of those play pins or cages."

Oh my god. This kid! I always do this scrunched face to make her laugh, and now she started to do it too.

 I was holding her on my lap getting her to nap,distracting myself with my phone, and I looked down to see her smooshing her nose waiting to catch my attention.  She stopped and smiled knowingly, and then kept doing it as I laughed and snapped the photo. 

I'm about to go do what I do every couple of years where I cut off all my hair, and then regret it and grow it out again, and then cut it all off. 

I feel like I'm lying to the world when I have long hair and highlights. If I were being honest with everyone about who I really am, I'd have a bowl cut with porch cut bangs. 

Hey, Valentine. Hop on. I'll show you my crib.

Walked in on my husband watching a vacuum infomercial. "I'm researching vacuums on consumer reports right now." I'm not complaining, but he's over here talking my ear off about vacuums while I'm just trying to enjoy my sports. Ugh, men. 

"The Shark looks good. I think I'll get it."

I hope that research continues once it's delivered. 

anniversary card shopping

"Can I eat now?"

"No, they're about to start skating. You have to do it when they're done. You missed your chance."

Today is our three year wedding anniversary. I'm grateful to be with a man who won't stick up for himself when I forbid him from eating his damn chips while I'm watching the Olympics.

He's a loud eater, though. I get nutso crazy hearing his crunching and spit swishing. I once tried to hold in my annoyance so long that I finally combusted, screaming, "If you can't eat a chip without shaking the room, maybe suck on it a little bit first!"

I went shopping for an anniversary card this morning. I always hear Jim Gaffigan when reading cards. "Yeah, that sounds like something I'd say." They were particularly awful today. There was one with a cage of birds and the statement, "My heart didn't know how to sing before I met you." Your heart's gonna learn to cry if you keep that up.

Another one, aiming for more authenticity, started with an ominous, "I love you no matter what." Inside read a line about sometimes being crazy for one another and other times driving each other crazy. I appreciate the realism, but Jesus. They might as well have gone with:

Outside: I love you no matter what.

Inside: The illogical chemicals in my brain that caused me to marry you may have worn off and I'm left with that choice, but I will always begrudgingly love you.  Happy anniversary (period, no exclamation point).

Or...

Outside: I love you no matter what

Inside: I'm kinda lazy, so....

Come to think of it, maybe with a little editing it would have been perfect for me.

Outside: I love you no matter what.

Inside: Even though we're always one chip away from a trial separation. Happy anniversary!

I'm not one for selfies, but I had to snap this real quick to look back on if I ever think fondly about another kid (forgot the flash was on, but appreciate the blurred quality). I've been wearing that mumu/night gown for almost 24 hours. It's covered with: spit up Tylenol, amoxicillin, vomit, mashed food, snot, breast milk, and now, cherry on top,  poop. 

Can't wait for Eugenio to come home. 

All these years I've been romanticizing the snow. I've learned a lot about myself in this move. Mostly that I was right in thinking that rural Oklahoma absolutely sucks. A big city far away from here is more my scene.

But the snow. I get it now. What I love is a painting of the snow. Maybe one featuring a quaint cottage with warm lighting emanating from the windows. I want to live there, but only for the amount of time it takes to enjoy the ambiance and then return to real life.

I have cabin fever, except I don't live in a cabin. I have very small apartment with a sick baby fever. 

She's cute, though.

                     

Snowed in and craving comfort food, I made a sausage lentil soup. I got the recipe from Rachel Ray. Nothing makes me feel woefully like a stay-at-home mom more than statements like that, but, by the way, I've never been led astray by any of her recipes (OK, I've only made two). I've also tried two Bethenny Frankel recipes, both disasters. I decided, never trust a trademarked Skinny Girl.

That's all besides the point. While making this hearty soup, my neighbor stops by with a tray of warm peanut butter cup cookies. How sweet! Panicking over what to do in this new social situation, I ask Eugenio after dinner, "Should we take her a bowl of soup when we return the tray?"

He scrunches his face replying, "She's so old. I don't know if her stomach can handle it."

Now I know how he really feels. He thinks the soup will kill our sweet neighbor. Perhaps this is a new recipe litmus test.