Peach Pie

My number one craving when I was pregnant with Rodger was peaches. Something inside of me knew that if I just ate all the peaches in the world, every day, I'd feel better.

"Don't mind me, just chillin' with my peaches."

Even during the big Costco listeria peaches scare, I still ate peaches.

"Seriously, Mom? Listeria? I could have died."

I ate peaches so much that David and I considered naming the child "Peaches."

"Mmmmmm. Peeeaches."

When Rodger came out, his hair was the color of peaches. 

He is soft and fuzzy just like a peach.

He is sweet and tart, just like a peach.

Happy 6 Months, Little Peach Pie! We love you!

Thank Yous

Thank you, David's Beard, for being the love of my life. You are so handsome. I don't know why David always insists on shaving you off. But like the old saying goes, "If you truly love something, set it free and if it loves you, it will come back." Thank you for always coming back to me. The face you come with ain't half bad either.

Thank you, Adrienne(BarrAT Elementary's Teacher of the Year), for always being up to chase a dream, eat good food, and travel with a baby. Your abiity to identify phonetic alphabets from bilingual ones isn't half bad either.

Thank you, rainy May, for making me feel that I had a legitimate cozy excuse to curl up with a book and be as lazy as possible for a whole month. Your skies weren't half bad either.

Thank you, Rodger, with your Blue Steel and non-ambiturner abilities, I have high hopes for your modeling career. Your double chin ain't half bad either. Who am I kidding, it's not half bad, it's 100% adorable.

The Spring Race

Morgan came home just in time to miss the Rex Lee Run. But, we were together and it was spring and so there had to be a 5k. 

Coincidentally, my church put on a neighborhood 5k the weekend she came home. It was no Rex Lee Run, but it was...what it was.

You would think that someone who loves kids, presumes to understand them most of the time, and spends a lot of time around them would be smarter than inviting a few teeny tiny legs to walk for three miles in the early morning.

We were talking about doing the race for days, pumped up full of excitement that rivaled a trip to Disneyland. Our pre-race faces pretty much express our level of enthusiasm.

(Morgan was in the process of being shocked at a slip of the tongue when I accidentally said the word "race" wrong.)

It didn't take long to realize that a three mile race is a long way. Pretty much from the gun going off.

This is everyone in front of me right after the gun went off.

And this is everyone behind me when the gun went off. 

There were lots of stops to do this.

There were a couple stops to cry on the side of the curb.

(Pictures of me doing the same withheld.)

And there were lots of free rides going on.

And lots of selfies.

Teeny tiny feet were dropped off halfway through the race, with signs of victorious relief.

Overall, it was a classic springtime 5k.

In hindsight, we probably shouldn't have run to get to the race. We apparently used up crucial energy.

Congratulations to track star, Kate, who was the only one to run the race!

Thank Yous

In the spirit of Jimmy Fallon, I'm going to start doing some weekly thank yous.

Thank you, Smith's Double Vanilla Ice Cream, for getting me to like plain vanilla ice cream again after a 24 year absence.

Thank you, Spring, for exploding in my face.

Thank you, Winter, for the joke.

Thank you, Rodger, for being full of hilarious faces.

Thank you, Jillian, for challenging Smith's Double Vanilla Ice Cream to a stiff competition of who will kill me first.

Thank you, Chef Brad of Fusion Grain Cooking, for teaching me this "fabulous" breakfast recipe.

And thank you, Easter, for reminding me there can be beauty in hashtags. #BecauseHeLives (Is it weird that the part with the girl eating ice cream is the part that made me cry?)

Long Days

A month after having my baby, a good friend emailed me an update of her four kids. She ended the email by saying "The days are long, but the years fly by!" I haven't experienced the years yet, but amen to those long days.

Some times I will lay Rodger on the floor and we'll change his diaper, sing songs, name all the parts on his body, count to 100 with our fingers, then recount in Spanish, practice the BYU fight song, read some poetry, talk about the downfall and destruction of the Nephites, have tickle time, have tummy time, have cuddle time to make up for traumatic tummy time - and then think "Surely it's time for our nap, we've been playing for hours!" Nope. Only 20 minutes have gone by. Hmm. Long days? Talk about long minutes.

I always expected motherhood to be hard. I knew I would lose my body, my brain, my identity, my time, my sleep. And you know what? It is hard and I did lose all those things. But in exchange, I got the gift of long days. Because apparently, in the blink of an eye all his years with me will be gone - and he'll be off having his own babies and beginning his own long days.

I LOVE my long days. Even when the days involve lots of tears and wishes for sleep and long moments of boredom.

 

(Typical Rodger to go from this to this. He is highly suspicious of any and all cameras.)

 I look at this baby and say prayers of gratitude for the long days and wish in my heart they could be just a little longer.