We all know what they are and can rattle them off at a moment's notice.  The two most popular?  Why religion and politics of course!  Right?  We all know those people (those people!) who are just chomping at the bit to talk religion and politics.  They just need to be heard, gosh dernit!*  I find it pretty easy to avoid them (I meant the topics, but on second thought, those people too!) but I come by my avoidance naturally.  It ain't hard.  Politics just does not interest me.  It's just too... all over the place?  Too many opinions, promises, broken promises, decisions that can't get made and resolved ever because of this, that, and the other thing.  Steve can't get enough of it.  And then he actually gets stressed about it.  Like, WHAT IS THE POINT?

Religion, well, religion does interest me.  But I am more than okay with keeping it off the table if need be.  I mean, I do have my opinions (hear me!  I have opinions!) and I can voice them with some real vim and vigor, but, I'm going to humble brag for a moment, I sort of pride myself in being seriously open-minded in this venue.  Buddhist?  Cool.  It's got something to offer, no doubt.  Really, really, really conservative?  Less cool.  But still, we'll work with it.  Atheist?  Alright, let's talk.

Hot-button topics.  There are some that I love to talk about.  That I feel strongly about.  That I will go to bat for.  For the most part, I keep these out of conversations too.  Especially if I'm not sure you (the collective you!) will welcome it or you haven't asked for my opinion.  These are the sorts of topics that I'm always afraid I'll speak too passionately about and then later, as I'm driving home, mull over the conversation in my head with regret: "Bridget!  You said too much!  You spoke too authoritatively!  You were too passionate!"  Vaccinations, homeopathy, circumcision, attachment parenting to name a few.  Sure, I've got opinions!  Some strong, some less so.  I try never to let this blog (or my 140-character Twitter allowance or my Facebook status) become my soap-box.  But, in avoiding these topics completely, am I wishy-washy?  Do I seem downright opinion-less?  Am I a sell-out?  Here's the thing.  I just think there are too many people these days who just need to be heard.  Desperate to be heard, even.  Who think every opinion that crosses their mind must be both voiced and validated.  Either from insecurity or from their own inflated self-confidence.  I don't want to be another.

Do you ever think about this?  Do you feel like you owe it to so-and-so to give your opinion?  Do you get yourself into deep water for doing it?  Or are you someone who keeps these things to yourself?  And, if you're a blogger, do you keep these topics off your blog too?

(*They are also the person that has had a Facebook status about Chic-fil-A in the last week.  And the person that you should block from your newsfeed NOW.)

(The song.  Great lyrics and if you try hard enough you can probably relate it to this?)

(This whole post was heavily inspired by this post.  It's a good one.)

photo

food: burrito bowls.  good when you can't think of anything else for dinner too.  my favorite?  ground beef or pulled chicken, sauteed red peppers + onions, black beans, cilantro, brown rice, salsa, spinach, some shredded cheese and a dollop of sour cream (and maybe some creole seasoning sprinkled on top).  delish.  some awesome variations on it here.

music: oh man.  gotye's making mirrors.  so friggin' good (most of it).  and i don't even like somebody i used to know.  if you don't either, don't write him off based on that song.  his cd is so good.  save me has been on repeat these days.

book: i'm reading devil in the white city and it's really good so far.  nonfiction, a villain, chicago history... it's good.  especially for any of you chicago-lovers out there.

your favorites?  food, music, book, or otherwise???


ps. thank you soooo much for all the nice things you said about parker's one-year video.  you guys are so sweet.

you're going to want to pour yourself a cup of coffee or tea for this one.  it's almost 9 minutes long.  but, really, how am i to smoosh all twelve precious months of his life into anything shorter than that?!  couldn't be done.  anyway, i am so glad to have this video.  i imagine a grown up parker watching it and being glad i got so much of him on video when he was too young to remember life himself.  i like that thought.

once more, happy birthday parker.  we love you.

I know I'm not alone when I say that it felt like there was a bit (a bit?  Understatement?) of pressure to have Parker's first birthday go just so.  This is obviously all for the Moms.  The babies won't remember a darn thing.  Though, as a twelve-year old, if he asks: "Mom.  What'd we do for my first birthday?  You blew my socks off, didn't you?  Come on, tell me how cool it was."  Well, I'll want to have something to say.  I can't say I blew Parker's socks off, but it was a sweet day.  First, he gave ME a present by sleeping in until 7:15.  (That's a whole hour later than normal.)  Then, I made him a smoothie after discovering that he loves them a few weeks prior.  Blueberry, banana, coconut milk, and spinach.  He licks his lips over and over.  It's really pretty sweet.  Smoothie ended, we played both inside and out, nap time.  Wake up.  Cauliflower.  Another one of his favorites.  I sautee it in butter so, duh, he loves it.  Then we took him to his favorite little pool where he crawls around in a few inches of water.  He splashed and had a ball.  We went home, he dug into hummus, made a mess, and opened his presents.  And all the while my heart was swelling for my one-year old.  I wanted him to enjoy his day, I wanted to enjoy his day.  I fought with the temptation to make everything monumental.  To make everything more emotional than it needed to be.  I would say I succeeded over all.  I didn't cry when I nursed him and put him down to bed even though I told myself that this night was different than all the other nights when I do the same thing.  Cause this night, I was putting down my one year old.  

After he went to bed, you can bet that I watched a few baby-Parker videos and wondered when did he change?  Like, when did he no longer look like a two-month old?  Slow progression.  I can't pinpoint it.  Nevertheless, he's not such a baby anymore.  His body is stronger, his personality is bigger.  Clothes that don't fit him are piling up and he's learning nose and bellybutton.  When'd he get so big?  Overnight, it seems.  

I'm working on a "Parker's first year" video and, you can be sure, the tears will flow then.  And we're celebrating this Saturday with friends and some family (crossing our fingers that the rain stays away!).

From fifth grade on, I've really known one of my greatest loves is for writing.  I remember writing a story for my fifth grade class about a home in the woods that a girl grew up in.  She goes back to revisit this home years later.  I remember seeing this house, the stream and mill alongside, hearing its creaky floorboards so clearly in my adolescent mind.  I wrote it on the floor of our living room.  An itchy Oriental rug beneath me, I set my notebook, elbows, and pen on the seat of our wingback chairs and there I remained, having so much fun, until I was finished.  My Mom's calligraphy machine hummed in the background as I worked alongside her.  I remember being really proud of what I'd written.

We read our stories out loud to the class and my teacher exclaimed what a good story I had written.  I was so happy.  If I didn't already know it then, I am sure I was convinced right then and there that writing was what I was best at and enjoyed most.  Thank goodness I figured it out early because how many times, as kids, were we asked, "What's your favorite subject, kiddo?" by that weird uncle who you're not really sure you're even related to.  And while saying, "Uh.  Watching Sweet Valley High and eating Pop-Ice?  Pink and blue only?" would be a sure way to jet out of that conversation quickly, it's not what you're supposed to say.

For me, it was never math or science.  History is not my forte either.  I am known for, in middle school, when asked what the shot heard round the world was, saying, "Hiroshima?"  Ask me when Julius Ceaser lived and I couldn't even tell you whether it was BC or AD (and whether you spell it Caeser or Ceaser or Caesar for that matter).   And, when this "favorite subject" question was asked, you never wanted to reply with an activity or a sport.  Gym was the answer for the non-student.  For me?  English was my answer.  And while the books that my English class offered excited me, I give them a seven while writing took a ten.  Sure, books teach me how to write.  And books make me want to write.  But the actual writing is my favorite.

I think I long to write something that resonates with another person.  The books that have me nodding my head in both agreement and in awe (SHE feels this way TOO?  I thought I was the only one!?) inspire me to write, write, write.  Those are probably my favorite blog posts to write (and read) too.  The ones whose comments look something like, "Yes!  I could've written this myself!"  Are we all just longing to relate and be relateable?  To resonate with one another?  I think so.

Try as I might, nothing has stuck in my mind as the story I just must write.  The story my mind has fallen in love with just begging me to put its words on a page.  How do people even begin?  With the whole story in mind?  Introduction, conclusion, and everything in between?  Or do they start with just a first sentence?  How?   Here's one, a book: The Reader.  The two main characters have a relationship.  And he reads to her.  She loves it.  And then their lives drift apart and later he rediscovers her, on trial for war crimes.  He discovers she can't read.  She never could.  But she won't admit it.  It would prove her innocence if she would.  What I mean to say is that that story blew my mind.  "What a genius, that Bernard Schlink!" I thought.  How'd he come up with such a story?

I guess that's where I was going with all of this.  I need a story.  But, you know, some days it's a memoir I want to write.  Then, I guess I've already got my story?  Though, when I go down that road, I slap myself on the wrist because I think you've got to be older than 27 with a lot more living under your belt to have a memoir worth reading.

Oh, to have a story so rich for the telling.  Fiction, nonfiction.  I'll take it all.

{image}

bachelorette, final rose.

ok.  so.  i didn't take any notes.  none.  i'm doing this by memory, ya'll.  eesh.  

jef!  jef's the winner!  you all know how thrilled i am about this, obviously.  

things of note:

+ it seemed less drama-drama-drama than other final rose episodes have been.  and i actually thought it was pretty refreshing.  usually it's all man-leaning-over-the-railing-weeping (jason mesnick), guy coming back to propose (reid), saying goodbye to both girls (brad), saying goodbye to one and then asking for her to reconsider at after the final rose (jason, again).  this was like, no nonsense.  says goodbye to arie, says yes to jef.  i liked it.  kudos, emily.

+ i wish they'd shown her funny side more too.  (as jef said)

+ him playing in the pool with little ricki was cuuuuute.  

+ arie: "here, try my love potion."  emily: "goodbye."  he should at least get his money back?

+ emily's brother was really serious.

+ arie should keep the roses.  that's not a gift for her family.  how about a bottle of wine or some flowers?  but... your roses?

+ looooooong pause before saying yes.  i thought she might say no.  (no duh bridge)

+ i am the man who will fight or your honorrrr, i'll be the hero... nice song choice, abc.  you trying to make us cry?

+ i liked their chemistry after the final rose.  i also liked how arie handled himself.  and jef is the shit for talking arie through his pain and stuff in the past few weeks.  seriously, that guy is cool and i like him even more now.

+ africa!  wedding!  jef moves to the carolinas!

well guys.  it's been real.  thanks for coming along.

so much to say.  i'll leave it at this:

happy birthday baby boy.

i love you so much.

{parker's twelve-month series}

i know there are a lot a lot a lot of these flash sale things these days.

groupon, gilt, zulily, fab, livingsocial... 

i delete most of them.

fab's pretty good.

(but yes, a flash sale site nevertheless)

if you're interested...

i mean it.  i love me an arnold palmer.  they remind me of my mom-mom and days spent at her wesley avenue home in ocean city where she lived with my pop-pop.  she always had a pitcher of arnold palmers (though, at the time, i called it "mom-mom's tea" since i didn't know what an arnold palmer was) in the fridge.  hers had a good amount (though, not too much!) of lemon pulp and were quite sweet.  she'd add a frozen can of lemonade to the brewed tea.  mine's a lot less sweet, but just as refreshing.  give it a try.

this hardly requires a recipe but i'll tell you what i do anyway.  bear with me.

boil a decent sized pot of water.  turn it off when it boils and add a few lipton black tea bags... or, a fancier black tea than your basic lipton (dependent on how much water you boiled, of course.  or how strong or weak you want it!).  let it sit for awhile.  then, squeeze the dickens out of one or two lemons.  into the tea it goes!  then add sweetener of your choice.  i give it a few good squirts of agave nectar.  you could use honey, sugar, whatever...

refrigerate and enjoy!

{and here's another yummy summer drink made from tea bags.}

candis is a good friend of mine.  you all know this already, i'm sure.  she is both incredibly creative and seriously kind, making this giveaway all the more exciting.  along with her husband, drew jones, they opened an etsy shop with the most fabulous necklaces, prints, and now keychains!  i've got two of the necklaces (& a print!) myself and they're great.

today's giveaway is for 

a necklace & print of your choice!

to enter:

{u.s. addresses only}

+ leave a comment and include email!

additional entries:

{separate comments}

+ favorite the shop on etsy
+ follow ladyleeprocess on twitter

+ tweet/blog/FB about the giveaway

giveaway closed.
carolina cundiffs is the winner!  congrats!

Last week we got rid of TV.  Since then, the kids have been melancholy.  Steve and I will find them playing tic-tac-toe by themselves while their Kix cereal congeals into a lone, milky mass of yellow goo, each piece indistinguishable from its neighbor.  Either that or they're on the driveway, biking around and around in too-small circles, helmet low, eyes cast downward.  Repeating mumbled, incoherent phrases.  Maybe an expletive thrown in from time to time?  Directed at us?  We're not sure.  

But, let's be real.  It's gone well.  You've heard me wax at length before on my desire to live on a commune (and then you've heard me wax at length on Bachelorette commentary.  Hypocrisy!  There, I admitted it.).  So, when Steve was going through a massive pile of bills and came across our Verizon one, he threw his hands up in the air.  "I'm sick of this!"  I agreed.  So, a quick phone call to Verizon, and poof!  Channels be gone.  

When I called, Verizon-man was confused.  I don't think many people call to totally eliminate the TV portion of their "bundle."  "What can I help you with today?"  "We'd like to get rid of TV."  "You'd like to downgrade your TV portion?"  "We want to get rid of the TV portion."  "You want to do WHAT?"  "We want to stop watching people live their lives (except Monday night's on ABC) and live our own."  I think I said something about wanting to drink wine in Italy and he laughed.  He was a really good sport.

It's been a little over a week now, and it's going really well.  To be honest, we didn't watch much of it.  William will miss Whale Wars and Lindsey will miss Phinnias and Ferb.  I'll miss watching the Bachelorette while it airs (catching up online as soon as I can Tuesday morning) and Steve will miss the occasional documentary.  We weren't huge TV-offenders to begin with.  So, it just made sense.  And, I'll be honest, it feels good.  A little slap in the face of the whole "keeping-up-with-the-Joneses" thing.  Next, we're giving up showers and I am DONE shaving my armpits.

we're into summer by now.  i mean, we're really into it.  the initial excitement has worn off.  the freckles are out, along with the always-dirty flip flop feet.  and boredom is beginning to set in.  and with that boredom comes the fighting.  you know how it goes.  mom and dad beg and plead: get along!  please!  do it for us!  the golden rule!  treat others as you want to be treated!  well, it only works for so long.  it's mid-july.  it's not working anymore.  yesterday, william spent much of the afternoon in his bedroom after i sent him there for being a real pain to lindsey.  

now, it's not so much pleading.  it's more: get along before I BURN THIS HOUSE TO THE GROUND (borrowed those words right from the mouths of babes... elvis earl).  we'll see if that works.  anyway, this morning i suggested lindsey have a lemonade stand.  she's good at tasks like this... sign-making, pouring, stirring.  the promise of a few dollars at the end makes it all the more fun.  steve gave it a title: lindsey's liquidators.  he's really trying to sell her on that one.

and then we've got william.  he's making his own sign and says he's having a lemonade stand at another spot on the street.  a spot cars pass first.  a competing lemonade stand with his sister.  why?  cause he's a pain.  burn this house to the ground?  IMA BURN HIS LEMONADE STAND TO THE GROUND, thas what i'm gonna do.

(fear not.  his lemonade stand's not happening.  i just let him think so until he gets bored with the idea and gives it up on his own.  i give it ten more minutes.)

you're probably already familiar with shabby apple (i hope!).  they make beautiful dresses--perfectly feminine with unique details--like the ruffles along the top of this one.  (and the destination locations where they take their pictures?  dreamy... rome, yosemite...)  here are a few of my favorite pieces: this jabberwocky pleated maxi skirt, this striped hyannis skirt, this gorgeous lace mad hatter dress, and the dagny necklace!

today you're entering to win a

$75 gift card to shabby apple!

and a coupon code: talesofmeandthehusband10off for the rest of you!

to enter:

{u.s. addresses only!}

+ visit the shabby apple page and 

come back and tell me your favorite item!

additional entries: 

{separate comments, please!}

+ like shabby apple's facebook page

+ tweet/blog/fb about the giveaway

giveaway closed!

amy is the winner.  congrats!

alright.  the season's nearly over.  down to the last two!  and this episode brings us: curacao!  helicopters (finally!).  cliff-jumping!  private islands!  nothing we've ever seen before on this show!

first thoughts:
+ little ricki doesn't get to come to curacao?
+ tears over arie's little 'intro' but no one elses?  mehhh this just makes me think he's totally the one she picks which kind of disappoints me.  JEF.  JEF.  JEF.
+ emily + ? in the sand.  waves come wash away the ?.  abc, you so artsy!

date with sean.
+ this is our first taste of a helicopter.  (or second, maybe?)  by this point in the season this is usually helicopter number 227.  but yet they are always so surprised.  "a helicopter!?  for meee?!?"
+ as far as private islands go, this one is not that attractive from birds-eye view.  barren.
+ sean forgot what he was going to say.  i think the word is LOVE, sean.  that was awkward.
+ he wrote ricki a letter.  alright, that's sweet.  but it just seems a bit contrived.  like he'll know that's the way to her heart so he's going to pen one no matter what it takes.  jef's seemed genuine (on the ranch) but maybe that's just cause i'm biased at this point.
+ fantasy suite card.  i'm going to spend the night "TALKING WITH YOU."  hear that, ricki?  MOM IS NOT HAVING SEX.

date with jef.
+ i am sooo digging jef's questions: "do you think i'd make a good parent?"  "where would we live?"  legit questions.  you so rarely see that on this show (and subsequently so few of these relationships wind up successful) so it's really refreshing.
+ painting analogy.  ohhhh, jef.
+ she says jef makes her laugh.  this is my number one.  the choice is obvious: JEF.  LAUGHTER.
+ jef's response to the fantasy suite--so well-spoken.  but i think she wants him to be more like, "PLEASE.  I WANT YOU.  LETS DO THIS THING."  instead of being all gentlemanly.  she strikes me as the type who needs more of a badboy.
+ "bridle these passions."  oh gosh.

date with face-grab.
+ miami beach coverup?
+ the swimming with dolphins=cool.
+ face-grab.
+ i think she's gonna let her loins make this final decision for her and unfortunately her loins are leading her to arie (which i just don't get.  he's not that cute.).
+ i looove her white dress/belt combo and her hair straight.
+ 6:30 AM she WISHES?  what time does lady ricki wake?!
+ good answer on being little r's buddy first before 'father figure'
+ you make me "feel like a man".  i think that's such emily-lingo.  the words she wants to hear.
+ arie doesn't even get the suite card?!  cause she's too worried what she'll do?  ok, he's so the final one and i'm just pissed.
+ if he's not the final one, this is gonna be hard for jef to watch back.  but, let's be honest, he is the final one.

rose ceremony.
+ i like that she is emotional and not taking it lightly.
+ i'm trying to guage her reaction to their tv messages.  she's pretty much the same each time though.
+ horse-hair ponytail.
+ i like jef's outfit.

next week.  jef goes home and she tells him before the very end.  dammit.

last weekend we took a day trip to salem, mass.  i've seen so little of salem in my time in massachusetts so far, thus it was fitting that i learn a little bit about it!  you know, all that witch history and such (and, if you saw my tweet you already know this--ooor you just know a thing or two about history anyway-- but all that witch stuff salem is known for?  it was basically started by a couple young girls who thought they had visions but were most likely looking for attention... and people actually began listening to them when they would shout out certain names of supposed witches, and those named were put to death.  obviously that's a brief summation, but nevertheless, it's pretty crazy.).  

then last week we headed out to tanglewood in the berkshires.  perhaps my favorite concert venue of all time.  james taylor was playing!  (my favorite artist too... put the two together, and it's a nearly perfect evening.)  the weather was gorgeous, we had appetizers and chicken salad to eat on the lawn, and it was really nice.  and guess who surprised the crowds during 'fire & rain'?  taylor swift!  lindsey was in seventh heaven.  first the biebs and now taylor swift!  she did a few songs of her own and then left.  it was quite exciting.

and finally, we've been heading over to this pool that is built for little guys (a mom's dream!).  shallow and smooth on the bottom... parker crawls around (or walks with help, as you can see he's doing these days in those pictures above!) and has a permanent smile on his face.  it's adorable.  i can't go too much as it's really not for big kids, but nevertheless, william and lindsey were excited to take turns walking around with parker and bringing him under the big fountain.  they make a pretty awesome big brother + sister team.

so, that's what's going on in our neck of the woods these days.

I never really knew I was a germophobe until I had a baby.  I do the normal handwashing, always have.  Before lunch or dinner, after the bathroom.  I've skipped both a time or two though.  Drinking out of other people's cups?  Never really into that.  I think that's my Mom in me - she was never one to share a cup or a chapstick - cold sores and colds and such.

But, it really reared its head (its squeaky clean antibacterialized head!) when I had a baby.

He was so fresh!  So small!  New and fragile!

I talked to Steve (ad nauseum!) before even bringing him home from the hospital.  "So, we're going to make the kids wash their hands before touching him.  Right?"

Bless his heart, he always agreed with me with a resounding "of course" even though this was baby number five for him and, if he ever did have any baby-induced-cleanliness-obsessions, surely they'd have rubbed off by now.

Even when making dinner, writing a grocery list, on the phone with a friend, I was always (honestly, still am, but to a much lesser degree) aware of who had Parker, whether they'd washed their hands, how close they were to his face.  I can hear a cough or an oncoming cold from a mile away.  It's become my mantra when William and Lindsey come in the door from school: wash your hands, guys!  They always oblige.  (And, for the record, I have made a point of thanking them time and time again for doing their part in keeping Parker free of sickness.)  I have felt his forehead more times than I care to admit (nearly every other day since he's been born--there!  I said it!).  "Steve, does he feel warm to you?"  No was the likely answer so--check!--Parker was healthy another day.  I told myself all serious illnesses start with a warm forehead.  Cause they do, right?

It's both a blessing and a curse.  This incredible awareness all the time.  It made it hard to sleep in and just let Steve bring Parker downstairs even when sleep was exactly what I needed.  It made it hard to run off and do some laundry while Parker was occupied with somebody else.  At times, mostly in the hormonal and hazy beginnings of my new baby-mama role, it was debilitating.  I had multiple natural hand sanitizers (who am I kidding?  They're still here.) nearby: two in the diaper bag, one in the stroller cup holder, another in the car door.  They're my safety net.  They're there so that I can rest at night knowing that, at the very least, I managed to rid myself of most of the grocery cart germs.  It's like, in case something happens to him, I know I did my best to avoid it (I don't even like writing that.).

I'm not sure where the foundations for this fear are.  When Parker was about 4 weeks old, he spit up the tiniest bit of blood.  A tiny reddish-brownish spot amongst lots of newborn drool on the neck of his white onesie.  He had a lot of spit-up.  He had some reflux--not significant enough to treat him for it--but nevertheless, I got spit up straight down my newfound cleavage more times than I care to admit as he faced inward in the baby carrier.  Multiple outfit changes were expected in a day.

Anyway, this tiny spot of blood had me racked with fear.  My Mom-brain went to the worst.  He had a horrible disease, or congenital heart failure.  Cause, a tiny amount of blood in spit up equals those!  We took him to our local hospital at 2 am when he was crying inconsolably.  I was very serious, very matter-of-fact.  I had a job to do it and it was to make sure my baby was ok.  At our local hospital, there was no doctor on call who specialized in infants--so they suggested we head to Children's in Boston.  We spent the night there as they ruled out everything in Parker.  An X-ray, multiple attempts at drawing blood in his tiny little arm, heel pricks (He still has a few little heel prick scars that break my heart a little.).  It was the worst.  At one point when they were trying to draw blood again (and failing again), I had to excuse myself making Steve say with him.  I went to the public restroom and wept.  I mean wept.  I begged God to keep my baby safe, to keep him here with me.  I nearly got on my knees (but, you know, the germs!).  It was the worst night.  We left with a diagnosis: reflux.  You'd think I'd breathe a big 'ol sigh of relief but I questioned it.  "What if they didn't catch the real cause?"  "How do they KNOW?"  Cause Children's Hospital in Boston isn't known for being, like, the premiere place to bring your kid or anything.

I can't pin that situation as the one that made me a nutcase.  Because, in all honesty, I was one before that happened.  But, it certainly did not help matters.  It was the universe's way of poking fun at me: na, na, na, na, na!  You're crazy already?!  We're gonna make you even crazier!"

There'd even be times when he'd start banging his chubby little hands on a restaurant table before I had the chance to give it a Bridget-approved wipe down.  I'd tell myself, "Surely, he's going to get sick from this.  It's bound to happen."  A few days later--you know, 48 to 72 hours which is the normal incubation period!--he'd be healthy.  It's a miracle!  A Christmas miracle!

Now that Parker is almost a year old, I can attest to babies being more resilient than I give them credit for.  I can attest to my craziness (Will I do it all over again with a potential number two?  Quite possibly.).  I can understand some of the eye-rolls I got from a few friends when I asked them to wash their hands before holding Parker (but do I still wish they'd just do it because I'm the new Mom who's gonna do one of two things: worry about the germs you will or will not give my baby and/or be up with a sick baby because of the germs you do give my baby?  YES.).  I can breathe a sigh of relief because we made it to one year!  Nearly sickness free.  In fact, here's a fun tidbit for you: when I began writing this post--weeks ago--Parker hadn't had his first cold, sniffle, ear infection, cough, nothing.  I walked away from the post for a week or so because it was just taking me awhile to find the time to write it.  In that time, he got croup.  He got croup!  And we lived through it!  So, there.  I can't finish this post with a perfect A-plus for health, but... close enough.

Why am I saying all of this?  I don't know.  Maybe there's another Mom, new or not, who is in this situation, was in it, will soon be in it.  You're not alone.  These babies make one vulnerable on a level that gets so deep you can feel it in your belly.  We can't control everything, of course not.  But, it seemed, for me anyway, keeping him germ-free was in my control so I owned it.  Oh yeah I did.

(Oh!  And I know that germs are good.  Really, I have chilled out a lot.  I tell myself to let Parker crawl around on the floor, let him put his hands in his mouth... all of those things.  In the long-run, they help his immune system.  A sanitized world is no help to his health in the long run.  And so, bring it, germs!)

{picture by Sara}

whoa guys, whoa.  if you've made it this far... congrats.  that was a lot of pictures.  and!  there are so many more!  but, at the risk of dragging my jersey shore trip into parts 1, 2, 3, 10... then one post it goes.  

so, after nyc, we headed down to the shore where my some of my family lives now, and spent our days walking cape may, swimming in my parent's pool, eating wawa hoagies, and laying on the stone harbor beaches.  the weather was perfect nearly every day (except one HUGE thunderstorm and downfall of rain that flooded stone harbor's streets in a matter of minutes!) and we had such a nice time.  there were a lot of us though, so figuring out where to be and food and naps and all of that was no easy task, but having all of my sisters in one place made it all worth it... it's unusual these days!  and see that group picture?!  we have multiplied.  crazy...

and i have to mention that nathaniel and jordan were home working while we were there.  they had an opportunity to get a bunch of hours in and then they'll take a vacation with us in august... so instead of taking off work for two chunks of time, they're waiting till august.  plus, they'll see some of the same people then too.  (you see, i have to come clean on their absence lest you think, "stepmom!  she didn't want them there!")

oh!  and happy 4th!