I have a soft spot for soft spots.

I freaking love babies.

Little known fact: I used to be scared of babies. Not in an evil clown sort of way. More like a here drink this flask of gin and drive this Aston Martin down a windy trail in the sleet way. They're just so fragile. I don't necessarily do well with fragile. But now that I have my own baby, I'm nuts about the things. Luckily for me, I have a loooot of friends who have babies now. All shapes and sizes. Babies, babies everywhere! It's awesome to see Hannah interact with babies. It's like when dogs see other dogs. Somehow they just know they're dealing with their "kind." I'd like to take this opportunity to feature a few babies with whom Hannah has the privilege of playing:

Our hysterically terrible attempt at making delightful memories.

Sometimes I get visions in my head about how something is supposed to go, and I still act shocked when it doesn't turn out that way. I should know better. I'm not meant to have things happen perfectly because it's too dang funny when they don't, and I can take a joke. Thanks, God.

I have a thing for fall. I love everything about it - the temperature, the glorious multi-colored backdrop of the trees, pumpkin stuff, bonfires, Oktoberfest beer, clothes that cover my limbs, football to fall asleep to, wine (loved year-round but especially at a winery during this time of year), school supplies all up in the Walmarts - OK, you get it. When we were looking for a new house three years ago I told Jason that I would give a neighborhood extra points on the probability chart if it looked like it would have good Halloweens.

So this year I was obviously very excited about the annual trip to the pumpkin patch now that we have our little Hannahpants to photograph. Oh man, I had all these pictures in my head and I was ready to get all sorts of momzilla up in that pumpkin patch. But here's how it went:

Ehhhhhhh, pummmmmkiiiiiiiinnnns

Nice, J

I look like Fabio and Hannah is unsure about me

Failed attempt at a family photo

This.is.so.......fun.

Hannah rocks her 30 Seconds to Mars haircut

And then the wind picked up...



And this is how we ended it. Awesome!
 

Not what I had in mind. That was last Sunday the 14th. It was gorgeous and sunny that morning. When we arrived at the pumpkin patch it took us about 30 minutes to all find a place to park. During that time the wind picked up and a storm blew in. We did our best to squish in some photos but Hannah wasn't into the texture of the hay and had lost a sock in the Panda Express parking lot right before we got there. It dropped about ten degrees in seven minutes. Next thing we knew it was raining. Perfect.

We went home but I wasn't ready to surrender the dream. I was getting my baby-in-a-pumpkin-patch pictures if I had to paint a mural on my living room wall and fabricate the whole thing. WE ARE GOING TO MAKE SOME FREAKING MEMORIES HERE, PEOPLE! Today I got my chance:

Hannah is still not feeling her best and didn't really "get" the whole thing, but she was a trooper. Most of the time. I would say her favorite parts were seeing the fluffy white dog in the checkout line and leaving. She still didn't care for the hay, and the lumpy orange balls did nothing for her. It was imperfectly awesome.

It happened again.

I vacuumed. Lots.

I vacuumed until there were no more tiny Benson hairs left on the floor. Then I realized the vacuum was filthy so I cleaned it.

And then I cleaned the kitchen counter tops. Did the dishes. Scrubbed the stove. Washed all of the bed linens. Dusted every corner of Hannah's room. Cleaned the closets. Did all the laundry. Hand-washed and disinfected all of Hannah's toys. Rewashed a bunch of Hannah's clothes. Swept the hard wood floors. Mopped. Scrubbed so many things in the sink my hands are chapped. Lysoled. Windexed. Lathered, rinsed, repeated.

Hannah is sick. I'm not sure if it's again or still. She's on her third round of antibiotics and I hate it. We took her to the doctor yesterday and she was diagnosed with a double ear infection with a cold on the side. Yesterday she was absolutely miserable, which made me absolutely miserable. I felt completely out of control. I can't fix her. So, I turned my need to control into something I could act upon: I cleaned.

Normally, I hate the heck out of cleaning. But when it comes to my baby's health I mean business. I feel like I'm in a battle against whatever is ailing her. It's me against the dust mites. Dander beware. I can't control her health but I can control her environment that impacts her health. And I can go nuts in the process.

I put the freak in control freak. I just can't stand that my baby is sick.

My sad little sicklet.

Six years ago today, we legitimized our codependency.

What were you doing six years ago today?

Jason and I were doing this kind of stuff:

Holy matrimony!

Now I'm not saying that six years of anything makes you an expert, but here's what I've learned about marriage...

It's not easy, but it doesn't have to be that hard either. Sure, it takes work. Maintaining anything takes work. But I think the two things that make it a heck of a lot easier are good communication and having fun together. Jason and I communicate about everything. I'm very fortunate to have a man who will work to resolve an issue with me until it's done. While it may not always be what I want to hear, it's always necessary to hear it, whatever it is. Honestly, the only person who always agrees with me is me. Beyond that, I can't expect to always be right. Jason and I also have a ridiculous amount of fun together. We even combined our mutual interest in music and created a band (www.rutherfordrockproject.com).

The couple that plays together, stays together

There are so many reasons why I married Jason. For one, he is incredibly genuine. I don't think he knows how to be fake. And he sucks at lying, so he never really tries. When he does it's painfully obvious and hilarious. He's just such a good person. He makes me feel safe.

Hearts

Jason is very active. In fact, he has self-diagnosed ADHD and won't stop moving. Ever. The good news about that is sometimes he takes me along on his quest to keep going, and we wind up some pretty cool places.

Rutherfords in Rome

Together in Paris

He's a fun-lover and tends to be incredibly goofy. He's not afraid to do the worm in public or sing Bon Jovi at a bar even though he couldn't hit a note if he flung a boulder at it.

Eyes off the prize, ladies

It's so important in a marriage to make time for each other, and while Jason carries a pretty hefty work load, he does what he can to make sure we spend time together as often as possible. He makes for a great date and some nice arm candy.

How sweet it is

Finally, he takes care of the beautiful little baby we made together and his fuzzy buddy Benson.

Our family

Jason in a holiday sweater vest and Princess Santa hat holding our petrified and tremendously fat dog

I can't help but think how lucky I am to have had him in my life for nine years and my legally exclusive dude for six. I totally married up.

My inner dialogue has finally stopped cussing.

When I get crazy busy and overwhelmed, my inner dialogue is a real asshole. It says terrible things, acts all kinds of impatient, and uses some pretty nasty words. It's been ugly for the past two weeks, and now it is sitting in time out in a corner of my mind, thinking about what it's done. I wouldn't let myself blog because 1) I was too dang busy anyway and 2) I didn't have very many nice things to say.

But I'm back! And chipper as hell.

I worked like a freak to prepare for our company's conference this past week, and then immediately got sick as soon as my presentations were over. That's how I do things. I get all worked up inside and work and work and work and then the minute the stress is over I have a let-down period that results in illness. Happened on my honeymoon. Let me tell ya, my husband was thrilled with his bride. I spent the first three days in Jamaica laying in bed while my husband got drunk on pina coladas on our balcony.

As soon as conference was over on Wednesday I picked up my dog from the vet, dropped him off at home, picked up my daughter from daycare, came home and tended to her until she went to bed, and then I crashed. I slept from 7:30 p.m. straight until 6:00 a.m. the next morning when Hannah woke up. After realizing I had a sore throat and a headache that felt like a bird hatching from my head, I decided to call into work. Hannah and I slept in my bed until 9:00. Then I took her to daycare, came home, and slept until 11:30 a.m. My headache finally left after I indulged in a little Starbucks somewhere around 3:00 p.m. yesterday. But the sleep was glorious. I feel like a brand new woman.

Hopefully Benson feels like a brand new dog in a good way eventually. Poor buddy had tumors that the vet thought needed to be removed. We were pretty sure one was just a fatty lump (and for some time we referred to Benson as "Fatty Lump") but then things got un-funny when a new bump appeared on his leg a few weeks ago. It appeared to be bothering him and it was harder than the fatty one, so I took him to the vet and they extracted a little sample, looked at it under the microscope, and advised us to have it surgically removed. So, a few days and a million dollars later, Benson has his skin stapled together in two places and is lump-free.

He's not happy. I can tell it hurts and he wants to chew it off, but every time he goes near it I yell. It's like a mean game we play. I don't want to get him one of those head cone satellite-looking things because, for pete's sakes, he needs to maintain a little dignity. But I might wrap it in a t-shirt if he keeps messing. I just hope the sketchy tumor turns out to be nothing. As much as I complain about his shedding, stench, and inability to tell the difference between the outdoors and my dining room floor, I will miss him when he's gone.

Our fuzzy buddy

I'm with stupid.

Seriously.

I have a permanent case of baby brain. I've been so forgetful lately, and my head feels like a saturated sponge. It really has gotten worse since Hannah was born.

This blew to my feet in a parking lot. Or did I drop it? Either way, I've probably already posted this post-it.

I write post-it note reminders to myself and then forget where I put them.

I sent a "thank you" card twice to the same person for the same gift. Apparently I was really thankful.

I get six words into a sentence and can't remember what I was going to say.

Yesterday I tried to make a pot of coffee at work and forgot to put water in.

Today I had a headache, grabbed Tylenol from the break room, went back to my desk, headed to a meeting, came back and saw pills on my desk, hollered thanks to whichever one of my cube-mates had given me the Tylenol, and then remember it was me...I gave me the Tylenol. Then I decided not to take it in case I had already taken some and forgot.

I'm not safe for me to be around.

There is no "clone yourself" in "team."

I'm womped.

I have a perpetually sick baby on my hands, and I only have two hands to soothe my perpetually sick baby. I need at least four, maybe six. I need to be an octopus. Except I do not want to be octomom. Just octo-hand-mom.

I have been working like a madwoman lately. I'm trying hard to get some stuff ready for our company's sales conference, but I've learned quickly that you can't work from home with a baby. Especially a sick one. And one that crawls around like an inchworm on speed. What I want to do is revert back to my part-time schedule where I get to crawl around on the floor like an inchworm with my perpetually sick baby. Hannah helps me simplify things. We jump in doorways. We squeal. We roll around. We throw toys. It's the awesomest.

Conference is next week, and once that's over I will be reverting. Oh, I will be reverting.

Why is it that I always feel like I am swimming against the current? Am I a salmon? I am a Pisces. Does that count? Am I heading upstream for a purpose? Am I going nowhere fast?

This is me:

Something smells fishy

I need to slow the heck down. I think that sometimes I'm so happy to be so distant from my severe postpartum issues (3+ months - yay!) that I want to do everything now. My PPD was life changing. Absolutely gut-wrenching, perception-altering, game-changing, death-defying, live-like-its-your-last-day ass-kicking. Now that I realize how sensitive it all really is and how easily and without warning it can get completely thrown off course, I just might be doing everything I can to defy it. Maybe I'm over-defying it. Will I ever be "normal" again? The phrase "finding your new normal" is tossed around but I think I know what it's all about. It's about surrender. Hell. I'm the worst at that. I think I'd be a great eight-handed woman instead. Hmm.

Re-post: Alison Tate - The Mom Stays in the Picture

My friend Mandy posted this on Facebook tonight and I thought it was magnificent:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/allison-tate/mom-pictures-with-kids_b_1926073.html

Enjoy!

The construction project we call home.

The weirdest thing happened tonight. I was at home, minding my own business, and the next thing I knew I was vacuuming. Vacuuming! Anyone who knows me knows I am no domestic engineer. I absolutely hate cleaning. Especially vacuuming. But here's what happened:

My feet grew in both directions during my pregnancy. Now, sixth months after evicting Hannah from my womb, I have finally surrendered to the fact that the majority of my old shoes aren't going to fit anymore. So a few days ago my sister came over and I bequeathed her a large sum of shoes. That small-footed wench. I kid, I kid. But it was really hard for me to let go of some perfectly good boots and heels. Some I've only worn once. Ouch.

After ridding my closet of some serious shoe action, I finally had visibility to the formerly shoe-covered carpet, and I was disgusted. It had gotten incredibly dusty and there were some serious Benson dog tumbleweeds all over. Then I realized there was an air vent amidst the dusty dog hair tumbleweeds, and suddenly I thought about how Hannah was sleeping so sweetly in her bed probably gagging on dander particles and little evil dust weasels. AGH! I couldn't have it. Absolutely couldn't have it. Before I knew it, I had a vacuum going and I was sweating. And then I vacuumed beyond the closet into the bedroom. And then I was on all fours scrubbing baseboards. And then the vacuum let out a big cloud of dust in our bedroom because I don't know how to operate cleaning mechanisms. So I gave up.

It's funny how that little babykins changes my reaction to things. Sadly, without her, I probably wouldn't have been so concerned with the dust creature living in my closet. I know, it's gross. And actually my house is mostly tidy for someone who doesn't like to clean. But I certainly wouldn't have gone into panic and feverish vacuum mode.

I do a lot of things now because I want to save her from all harm. I used to gently remove spiders from my home and take them outside because I felt like a real asshole killing them, but now they are a threat to my daughter's well-being and they have invaded my turf. Squish. I also wash my hands to the point of skin crackle.

I'm currently panicking about several things going on in my home. Jason and I have a tendency to always want to change our environment, so as we speak we have uprooted the carpet in the dining room (Benson thought it would make a nice bathroom for awhile there) and are installing hardwood, our master bath had a leak so the walls have been removed and Jason is preparing to fix it, and our basement has been in the process of being finished for about, oh, three years now. I am so ready to be done with all of it. However, knowing us we will immediately begin another renovation. Of course I'm freaking out because Hannah's life is in jeopardy via construction dust particles, fiberglass insulation pieces, rogue nails, and so on. I am so tired from manual labor and yet I cannot sleep because of paranoia. Se la vie.

My little lady is SIX months old today!

"Abba abba abba abba yo-yooooo!"

Whoa. Time is a-flyin'! I cannot believe that Hannah is already half a year old today. SIX MONTHS! Geez Louise. That little stinker is so incredible. I can't get enough of her. She's still recovering from her illness so I haven't taken her six month photos yet, but I will once she's in her true photogenic form.

We had her pediatrician checkup yesterday, and here are her stats:

• 67.10% for weight (17 lbs 2 oz)
• 92.35% for height (27.25")

She's practically an adult.