A Snapshot. Maybe a collage.

I guess my I should say that since November, I've learned that one should never begin a blog with the expectation that the blog's simple existence will encourage that person to actually put fingers to keys and write something. Not so, my friend.

When last I recorded a tidbit from our life, Olivia was four months old. She was tiny, and chubby, and just beginning to eat baby food. If I put her somewhere, I could expect that she would stay there. Grocery shopping was a breeze, with my only speed bumps being smitten little old ladies. (metaphoric speed bumps.) Today, she is closing in on 13 months, and she is an amazing little creature.

She devours fruit, scrambled eggs, cheese and any sweet that she can con me out of with those big blue eyes. She does not stay where I place her--in fact, like a cartoon character, her legs are running before they touch the Earth--and grocery trips sometimes take two hours and reduce me to a pleading, package-opening, teary-eyed mess. Would I like help out with those groceries? Yes, please. Maybe you could put them in my kitchen, too? And maybe make dinner?

Currently, she is sitting on the floor of our television room watching Sesame Street fiddling with chunks of the X-Box remote that she dismantles every chance she gets. I am staring at her, marveling at how much she's changed since she was that wee little infant. She notices this and toddles over to me and climbs in my lap.

Although it is almost noon, her fine blonde hair is still frizzed from sleep, and I think she could really use a new diaper.

She has now dismantled the mouse for the computer, and wandered back to the TV to smile and bounce to Elmo singing a country-style song with ducks for back-up singers.

Time to get back to enjoying this rainy day.

Ever wonder who shops for groceries in the middle of the day?

I commented several times when Olivia was teeny(er) that having a new baby was similar, I imagined, to living with a foreign exchange student. There's the frustrating language barrier thing, and babies do seem like they have their own culture that parents just don't get, kinda like how the Canadians have crushes on Maple leafs.

Now that she's a little bit older, she seems to have evolved from foreigner to celebrity. I'm not gonna lie, our baby is damn cute. She smiles this crooked, gummy little grin. She's got those big, smiling, blue eyes. She has a head that is amazingly round, and, oh, those tiny hands and feet. I acknowledge my bias.

Wherever we go, she works the crowd. Reels 'em in like helpless fish. They lean over her car seat smiling and cooing, and of course, she turns up the charm and smiles back. Maybe she flails her arms and legs in a gesture of approval.

Today, Oli and I went to Trader Joe's to do our grocery shopping, and no kidding, we were stopped four separate times before we left the produce section. A few isles in, we parked near a wall of nuts to check the list. I looked up to see an older woman with the customary short, thin and curly "mature lady hair," died reddish black, coming our way. Fan Club member number 5, of course.

She peered into Olivia's carrier and touched her half-socked foot like she was about to praise Olivia's undeniable adorableness. To my horror, however, she launched into an account of how a baby's car seat fell off the shopping cart at Costco that very morning and the baby fell on its head. "They called the paramedics," she said. "It was okay, but when they pulled it out it was, you know..." and then she hung her head back and to the side with her eyes half closed and her tongue out. (I'm pretty sure about the tongue, anyway.)

I was absolutely aghast. I didn't even try to wipe the look of horror off my face in order to be polite. She quickly began chatting away about how all babies love her, and--no kidding--saying "Watch this! Watch this!" as she danced in front of my cart.

No, Olivia! No! I screamed with my mind. Don't smile for her! We have to flee!

That's my girl--Olivia looked only at me, totally dissing the loony bat who thinks stories about smooshed babies are a welcome how-dee-doo on shopping day.

We were able to go on our way, but I was completely freaked out and hyper-protective of her until we were home. For the rest of the day I was wondering two things: 1) can I safely go grocery shopping alone? (I am not afraid of theatrical grandmas, but cart disasters), and 2) Was she at Costco for the disaster? And if so, why was she later at Trader Joe's? Is she the Jessica Lansbury of grocery stores?

baby advisory board

Today, Olivia had her own brush with politics. We had joined our friend Jen for soup flights at The Art of Soup. While Jen and I were slurping from tiny bowls, Mayor Phil Gordon came in with another sharply dressed man for their own soupy lunch. My back to the door, I kept chatting blah blah blah as Gordon entered, but I felt the small room get kind of excited, perk up, like cats hearing the can opener. Jen prompted me to look over. I'm not going to lie, it was kind of cool to "bump into" the mayor. Makes me feel kinda fancy.

On his way out, he looked at Olivia in Jen's arms and said, "'bye munchkin." Munchkin! Awesome! I think she should be on his baby advisory board.

So, this is blogging!

I feel like I missed the boat on this one. It's like I am finally purchasing my first pair of Hammer Pants.



Olivia is sitting in my lap with her monkey toes wiggling, her legs splayed over the laptop chewing on a stuffed frog. She just let out this wildly dramatic yawn as she likes to do these days. Ahhhh-awwwwahhhhh-arrrrrahhhhhh.



It's finally election day! The heat is finally breaking, although it is November, and soon we will cease to be plagued by political ads. It's shaping up to be a great month!



I am so excited that someday Olivia will be able to say she rolled up to the voting booth in her stroller to help her mom vote on such a historic day! I put an "I Voted Today" sticker in her baby book, and I vow to take a picture of her infront of an Obama / Biden sign before sundown, even if it means I have to trample someone's nice green yard. Winter lawns be damned!