Wednesday, April 28 entry Last night I asked Owen what he wanted for dinner. "Pancakes," he told me, and nodded all excited-like when I confirmed that he could have pancakes. I made him two blueberry pancakes (no syrup), and he ate most of it. Keith called later to check in, and asked what we had for dinner. I had leftovers, I told him, and Owen requested pancakes. I told him I made Owen two blueberry pancakes for dinner. Keith said he requested the same at breakfast, and Keith made him two blueberry pancakes for breakfast! That sneaky little bugger. He ate pancakes all day long. He's on the anti-Atkins all carbs, all the time.
Last night during American Idol Owen was dancing around to the Latin beats, and when Simon came on screen to give his opinion on some poor soul's performance, Owen stopped in his tracks, pointed at the TV, and said, "Poppy!" He said it several times. I am not making this up; it is entirely true! I have written before that I swear my dad looks like Simon Cowell. Call me crazy, but Owen agrees with me. Granted, he also called Keith's work boots Poppy, but I think he's on to something this time.
I'm on a new chore schedule. One room per night, in addition to the usual kitchen and living room duties, and a load of laundry. Monday night was Owen's room, and it is now dusted and vacuumed and very clean. Last night was the guest room, tonight is the guest bath, Thursday is our bedroom, and Friday is master bath. I'm hoping this will lighten up my weekends, so I only have to do the floors. I don't like cramming all my housework into two days. We'll see how well I stay on schedule. I'm trying to be more disciplined about cleaning and routines, so I can get into good habits before Baby gets here. Right after Owen was born, I went into complete cooking and cleaning hiatus. We lived in a dirty cave with no food for several weeks. I don't want this to happen again, so I'm starting right now on developing good habits. Cleaning is so hard for me.
Keith went to the eye doctor on Monday. We have new vision care insurance, so he went in for a check-up and new lenses. Our co-pay on this is $30, so well worth the visit. He calls me at work when his appointment is over, and says, "I used the debit card for $155.40." I about died. Anyone who knows Keith knows how frugal (cheap) he is. So I'm wondering what in the world he bought for $155.40! Sunglasses, he tells me. Prescription sunglasses. What were they, Armani? Some fancy name brand? Turns out that our insurance doesn't cover that sort of thing, which was incorrectly explained to Keith. He was totally blindsided by this saleslady at the vision care center. It turned out to be funny, really, because my husband the cheapskate, who has worn the same pair of tennis shoes since 2001, which are worn through and turning funny colors, paid $150 for a pair of sunglasses. There's humor there, trust me. He was so mad.
I haven't mentioned it yet, but we did watch the draft on Sunday. I've made no secret of my dislike for Peyton Manning, but I was really hoping to start with a clean slate regarding Eli Manning. He ruined it. He ruined it all with his whining and crying prior to and throughout the draft. Sickening, I tell you. Anyone who plays in the NFL has to respect the league. He doesn't respect its rules or its purpose. Come on, the whole point of the draft is to give good players to bad teams, to help them improve. This is how we equal out the NFL. No wonder the Bengals finally had a decent season last year (by decent, I mean, they won some games). They've been hoarding draft picks for years. That's the point. I couldn't believe he was such a baby. And the Browns, with their weird trade and pick, don't get me started. So, the Manning boys, blech. If I were a Chargers fan, I'd be jumping for joy that they didn't end up with him. If I were a Colts fan, I'd poll all the homeless and poverty-stricken people in Indianapolis and ask them how they felt about Peyton Manning making $100 million dollars over the next few years. Cripes Indianapolis, prioritize much? I'm not going to say that American Idol was awful last night, but OH.MY.WORD. It was awful. No offense to Gloria Estefan, but that music really only sounds good on her. Even the contestants who can really sing sounded bad. I actually fast-forwarded through John Stevens' performance, not because I can't stand to hear him sing, but because I can't stand to hear the judges bash him at the end. I feel bad for him. I think the only contestant left that I even remotely like is George Huff. Really, the producers are killing the contestants with their guest judges. Barry Manilow? Snooze. Gloria Estefan? Cringe.
Yesterday morning, after about 15 hours of not feeling any baby movement, I called my OB to see what he thought. He suggested that I come in and let him take a listen, just to be safe, make sure the heartbeat sounded nice and strong. I met Keith and Owen at the doctor's at 11:15AM, and to our surprise, they hooked me right up to the ultrasound machine. The first thing we saw was two little hands waving at us, so I was really relieved. We watched the heartbeat for several minutes, and the doctor was convinced it was strong and healthy. The baby looks much chubbier than last time. I really wanted to ask him to check for the gender again, just to be sure, but I knew he squeezed me in, and probably didn't have time. So I didn't ask, but I'm definitely going to ask on May 20, when they do the next ultrasound. We have 70% confirmation, anyway, and that's pretty good. So no worries, all is well.
Yesterday when we got home, Owen and I laid down on the couch for a little nap - and woke up 2.5 hours later! It was a little after 7PM when we woke up. I couldn't believe it. He must have been exhausted! I let him stay up until 9PM, since he took such a long nap, but even then he was more than ready to go to bed. Now that it's warm, he plays so hard, especially outside. He was worn out. Me, I'll take a nap any day.
RD is out of town, and won't be back until next Thursday. I can't believe my good fortune. A week without RD. This should be good. Sunday, April 25 entry This is a big picture, I know, but I just love it. There is almost nothing funnier than walking in your bedroom to find your son and his baby doll riding the dog.
Short and sweet, we had a good weekend. Saturday I went on a major binge at Hobby Lobby and blew buckets of money on craft supplies. But really, what makes a girl happier than a new box of stamps? Sunday morning we met up with Uncle George and Aunt Charla, and Chance, for breakfast. They were coming through Nashville on their way home, and we ate and visited at Cracker Barrel. It is so nice to see family every now and again. It meant a lot to us that they stopped in. Otherwise, the weekend was relatively uneventful. Keith mowed the lawn, I made a cake for a friend's birthday. I did manage to find time to upload some pictures of Owen here.
In an unrelated yet funny story, Owen has proved yet again that he is his father's son. He was in bed with me Saturday night, since Keith had to work late. He was dozing off, in his typical baby sleep pose, but turned perpendicular to me, so his diaper end was right in my face. All of a sudden, he ripped the loudest stinker. I was trying not to laugh since I didn't want to wake him, when I heard this little sleepy voice say, "Mommy, whoa-y!" Even in his sleep, he tries to blame his gas on me. Just like his dad, I tell you, and he's only 18 months old! Friday, April 23 entry Finally, it's Friday. This week has been dragging on forever, it seems like. We have no plans for the weekend, so I'm hoping I can clean house and sleep. That's all I ask, really. It's amazing at 22 weeks pregnant how exhausted I am. All I want to do is sleep. We need to get cracking on the garage, get it all cleaned out. The hard part is moving all the old furniture out. I'd like to donate it, but we have no vehicle to take it anywhere. We're tossing around the idea of having a garage sale to get rid of the old furniture, plus some clothes and interior decor stuff that's been in storage forever. We'll see if I'm up to it.
We went last night to pick up Owen's new beds. We looked all over the mall for bedding, but I never found exactly what I'm looking for. I found the perfect set at Pottery Barn, but they are so expensive. Stupid overpriced Pottery Barn. We walked around the mall and ate dinner at Carrabba's, which was fabulous. It was a regular old date night, but with Owen along. We had a lot of fun. Owen ate half a loaf of bread and a small cheese pizza at Carrabba's. I couldn't believe it. The Boy Who Never Eats ate a huge dinner. He was in rare form, chatting up the waitress and hostess. He is the best company. His newest line is, "Baby's comin'!" I could eat that boy up, I swear.
And now, as an outlet for my pregnancy-induced rage, I will list things that make me irate. Therapeutic, no?
Monday, April 19
entry
We finally purchased Owen's new big boy bed this weekend. We ended up with a bunk bed set, but I am happy with it. It is a classy bunk bed. It is very simple, finished with a black cherry finish, so it matches his current dresser and armoire. I think he knows it's for him, too, as he told the sales lady - who kept getting in his face and pinching his cheeks, etc. - "Big. Boy. Bed." I think she annoyed him. She certainly annoyed me. Anyway, Keith is picking the beds up on Thursday. We have a lot of work to do in the guestroom before we are ready to put the beds in there, though. And I need to buy bedding and paint for Owen, too. I feel pressured with all this stuff to do before the baby gets here! Only four-ish months left. Ack, nesting! And quick!
Now that Owen is 18 months old, Keith and I have been discussing potty-teaching. Most doctors and books recommend beginning the process sometime between 18 and 24 months. Keith would like him to be ready ASAP, of course, but we don't think he's ready yet. He doesn't show any signs of caring about using a big potty, or about wearing real underwear. He's not interested in sitting on his little potty, and he's not interested when anyone else uses the bathroom. I think he's still too young. But it won't be much longer! That would be great to get him out of diapers before the new baby gets here, but I don't count on that happening. I don't mind changing diapers, anyway. It would save us buckets of money, though. Buckets of money are good.
This weekend Owen started calling me Robyn. It's not all the time, but every now and then, he'll call out to me, "Robyn!" and then follow it up with some demand (i.e. "Goldfish please!"). It doesn't really bother me, but it is kind of weird. He also started saying, "Oh no! Happened!" which means what happened. It's very funny and dramatic. And he also started threatening me when I get on to him or he does something wrong. He starts swinging his little hand and saying, "Hit, hit" whether or not he can reach me. Like last night, he was making a mess with dinner, so I took his plate away. He leaned over in his highchair, as far as he could lean, which was still nowhere near me. He started swinging his hand and telling me "Hit." The message I got from that was, if you were any closer, I'd so be hitting you right now. What an attitude. It reminds me of a Simpsons episode, but I won't go into all that right now.
RD will be in Atlanta today and tomorrow. I am so excited to have some time at work without him. He is such a blockhead. My days will be much better without him.
My OB appointment on Thursday went well. Everything looks just fine, as usual. My next appointment is in 5 weeks, on May 20. I have to take my glucose test that day, and we'll also be doing a second ultrasound to check my placenta, and also to verify the gender of the baby once again. Keith gets to join me, and I'm really excited about seeing the baby again. I'm taking that entire day off from work, since the glucose test and ultrasound will take up most of the morning. Then I'm getting my hair done that afternoon.
I'm wondering at what point this blog became entirely about Owen. Probably the day he was born. He's the only truly interesting thing in my life, anyway. The rest is rather dreary. This is yet another reason to have a second baby more to write about.
Thursday, April 15
entry
I have my monthly OB check-up today. I always enjoy them, except for the weight gaining part. Speaking of baby, the baby's kick patterns are making me nervous. He kicks me all night, and lays low during the day. Owen was the same way, and when he was born, he had day and night completely backwards. Gah, it took forever to fix it. Looks like this baby may be the same way. He was very active during The O.C. last night, and Keith tried to feel him, but he couldn't feel all those little bumps just yet. With Owen, it was around 25 weeks before Keith felt him, so I suspect within the next month Keith will feel the baby.
Last night Keith and Owen ran to Lowe's, and missed the first 25 minutes of American Idol. When they came home, Owen ran up to the television, where Diana Degarmo was singing "My Heart Will Go On." He started swaying and singing with her, a random mix of vowels and consonants, strung out into melodies, and when it was over and the crowd cheered, he clapped and twirled and yelled "AYYYYYYY!" It was just so hilarious. I've never seen him do that before.
Our new satellite system is fabulous. I paused live television last night, and it was surreal really. Then I set it to record "Trading Spaces" while I slept. What great fun, and I feel very hip.
Installing the new satellite system required Keith to crawl under the house and run a cable and phone line. While he was under the house, he totally confused Owen by knocking on the walls and calling up from below us. Owen thought it was hilarious. He kept yelling, "Daddy! Love you!" and running all over trying to find him. After Keith came out from under the house, I asked him what it was like under there. He said it was about 3 feet tall, and the ground was covered with plastic. I asked if there were snakes or animals in there, and he said no, it's not like that at all. I asked if a person could get in there and live, and he said yes. So now I've decided we need to lock it up. What if it rains one night, and a bum needs to get out of the rain, and he decides to go under my house? Keith has already assured me that no bum would target us, but there is an alarming number of transients in Nashville, so I worry. I get it; I'm irrational.
I think I forgot to mention last week that my friend Mary Ann, who works with me, and who is due the same day as me, found out that she is having a girl. She already has a 7-year-old girl, who has the same birthday as Owen. Now our second babies are due on the same day! She will have two girls and we will have 2 boys. So no sharing of clothes or anything like that. But they are excited about it, and Samantha is very thrilled to have a little sister.
Keith finished up most of the painting yesterday. He's been painting our living room, hallway, and kitchen over the past three days. He has a little bit of trim to touch up, but that can wait and be done slowly over time. Since Monday all the furniture has been pushed into the middle of the room and wrapped in plastic and bed sheets. The kitchen appliances were all pulled out and unplugged, so I haven't been able to cook or anything. But he's done now, and we started reassembling the house last night. The walls look new and clean, so I'm thrilled with that. Tuesday night we ate at Shoney's, since the kitchen was destroyed. Owen was being very entertaining. He was eating macaroni and cheese and peas and yelling the ABC song, at least, as much of it as he knows, which is A B C. He was so loud. Then he counted 1! 2! 3! 4! 5! 9! He was yelling, and we were embarrassed. But it was funny. He's such an attention hog and a flirt. Then we took him to Big K to look at baby stuff, and he was running all over the place, and throwing tantrums when we held him or put him in the cart. He is entering what I believe to be the Terrible Twos. He's so independent, it just infuriates him when he can't do something (like put his shoes on or open a door). What an . . . interesting . . . stage.
And speaking of Tuesday night, am I the only one blown away by the One Tree Hill bombshell? Oh WB, I truly must Watch The Frog.
Monday, April 12
entry
Dear Owen,
Eighteen months ago today, something very amazing happened to your Daddy and me.
The day you were born was the best day of my entire life. I wish I could put it all into words, but you'll have to wait until you have children of your own to understand what it means, and what it feels like, to hold your newborn baby in your arms.
But after your first day of life, things just got better. Every consecutive day since then has been more and more wonderful. You are older now, more independent, communicating with us, so much fun to play with. Your dad and I spend almost every second we have together talking about you, and some cute or funny thing that you did, or something brilliant that you said. I'm amazed by you, truly. At eighteen months, you:
I can't even begin to list all the things you know and are learning. You're growing so fast (from 27 inches to 34 inches in 6 months!). Sometimes I look at you and I don't see my little baby anymore. I see a toddler, a little boy even! But then I creep into your room at night, and see you asleep with your behind in the air and two binkies in your fist, and you are my little baby again. A lot is going to be changing in your life, little boy, and pretty soon. But the way we love you, that will never change. You will always be my Monkey. Love you very much!
Mom
Sunday, April 11
entry
Happy Easter! It's raining here. Not very festive, is it?
We spent yesterday, all of yesterday, looking at furniture. It's amazing how expensive children's furniture is. It's so small! But it costs as much as regular furniture. We looked at a million beds for Owen. We found a couple that we really liked. I am not a fan of bunk beds, and I really didn't want to get Owen a bunk bed set, but we found a stylish one with a desk and shelves and drawers all built in. It may be a good choice for him, since his room is so small. He wouldn't need a separate dresser, so there would be more floor space. I'm torn because I hate the look of bunk beds, but it seems like a good deal.
We rented School of Rock last night, and while I had previously thought Jack Black to be an imbecile, I am now sold on his comic stylings. We put Owen to bed and watched the movie, with popcorn and Vanilla Pepsi, for $6.53. We learned a good lesson. It was just as fun as our date night, which cost us about $80, including the baby-sitter. We learned the hard way, but it was a good lesson.
I've uploaded lots of pictures today. They are all here. Here is an adorable sampling of the world's cutest baby.
Saturday, April 10
entry
We had a great time last night on our big date. We ate dinner and saw Starsky and Hutch which was positively hilarious. I'm a big Ben Stiller fan anyway, and Owen Wilson was great. Even Snoop Dogg was hilarious, and really, who saw that coming? After the movie we drove downtown to Borders and drank very expensive coffees and read magazines until they closed. We were home around 1130PM. Owen woke up when we got home, due to us being in his room and poking and prodding him (we really missed him), and started to cry when we woke him up. So we moved him to our bed where he was quickly consoled and fell back asleep. We then moved him back to his own bed, and he blessed us by sleeping until 815AM. Keith and I had a great time, but we felt so naked without the baby. All in all, we decided that we'd rather take Owen with us to dinner and the mall, it's only the movie that was better without him. So we'll remember that for future reference. The only foul part of the evening happened at the movie theatre restroom. Four bad things happened.
After that, I had a great evening. But man, I missed my boy. As he lay in our bed, sprawled out between us, taking up way more than his tiny share of the bed, I said, "We're back to the real world!" Keith said, "I like the real world a lot." So do I.
Friday, April 09
entry
Because I was adventurous and tried several new recipes this week, I will participate in Dawn's Week's Eats meme.
Saturday Hamburger and Vegetable Soup
Sunday Mexican Lasagna
Monday Beer Burgers, potato wedges
Tuesday leftovers for me, hot dog for Owen
Wednesday Grilled Tuna Steaks, homestyle green beans, French bread
Thursday Cream of Carrot soup, crusty rolls
Friday date night! Santa Fe Steakhouse
The Hamburger and Vegetable Soup was so easy, and one of the most delicious things I've eaten in a while. The Mexican Lasagna was also wonderful, and we just finished leftovers on it yesterday, so it made plenty. I left the beer out of Owen's burger on Monday, but it cooks out anyway, and these are always delicious. The Cream of Carrot soup was a new recipe for me, and it was great. It will definitely be going into rotation, especially since I bought three times the amount of carrots I needed. It's been a good week of eating for us. I am, of course, happy to provide any of the recipes. You can always email me at manicotti[at]hotmail[dot]com.
Wednesday, April 07
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My husband is so wonderful. I called him to see if he'd like to get a babysitter Friday night and have a date night. He was quiet for a minute, then he said, "I already set that up. You ruined the surprise!" He set up Owen's sitter for Friday night, and has dinner and a movie planned. The last time we went to a movie was Christmas! I can't wait. He's so sweet.
It's finally happening! I've convinced Keith to get a satellite dish system! This is surely a big day for us. We've had only rabbit ears for 2 years now, and they've been broken for a while, so we pretty much only get FOX, and let's face it, who wants to watch FOX all the time? But finally, we're getting the dish system, with the built in TiVo, and I am so excited. A Baby Story! Decorating shows! TLC! VH1! Happy day.
Am I the only one who loves Donald Trump all of a sudden? No wonder he gets all the babes. I think he's the coolest, the hair not withstanding. And even that is tolerable when weighed against his pros. I love The Apprentice, but I love The Donald just as much.
Owen woke up a lot last night. Like, a lot. The good part was that Keith got up with him, because he's off work for the next three days. Plus, I'm pregnant. I like playing that card. Anyway, he grumbled about it a lot, but he still got up. There's the modern man for you. He's grand.
Tuesday, April 06
entry
We're halfway there! 20 weeks down, 20 to go. This pregnancy is definitely moving along more quickly than the last one. Luckily, I'm still feeling fine. This has been as easy as my first pregnancy, and I'm very thankful for that. I'm just starting to get uncomfortable at night. I'm not a side-sleeper, and I've taken to stacking pillows around me, four of them, and one a body pillow, in order to sleep. In a few weeks, the swelling will start, and my tailbone and back will start to ache, and it will all come back to me. But still, it's been relatively easy.
Owen has his 18-month shots on Monday. The doctor rescheduled him for a morning appointment, so I won't get to be there. Keith is taking him, and I'm sad that I won't be there to comfort him. Of course, I think it upsets me more than Owen, since he has such a short-term memory. Maybe it's best if I'm not there. I'm very emotional these days. I would probably cry more than him, since I tend to cry every time, anyway. Yesterday I was looking online at some cruises and vacation deals, and I had to scroll quickly past the 7-night trips. Thinking about leaving Owen for 7 nights was making me cry. I'm crazy. No, it's not me, it's the pregnancy.
We spent the weekend looking at beds for Owen. We found some really great captain's beds, loft beds, and some pretty sleigh beds. I haven't decided yet what I want to do. Keith laid Owen down on one of the twin beds at the furniture store, and he looked so tiny lying there. He thought it was all great fun, of course, but it was semi-devastating for me. He's too little to be in that huge bed! Of course, the very sight of him in the big bed caused us much doubt. Keith reiterated my fear, that he will roll right off the edge of that mile-high bed and break some important bone and it will be all our fault, for taking away his crib. Last night I was changing his sheet in the crib, and he pointed at it and said, "Onan's bed," Onan being the name that he calls himself. He's right, of course. I don't know what to do. Bah.
Monday, April 05
entry
Lately, as soon as Owen gets up in the morning (well, once he's had a diaper change and something to drink), he wants to start doing his exercises, which he calls "sizes." He learned them at the sitter's, and now he likes to do them at home, too. The first thing he does is leg lifts. He lies on his back and lifts his right leg (we've never seen him lift the left one) and counts "two, two, two, two," and occasionally throws in a "nine." It is the funniest thing to watch his little legs go up and down, and all those baby fat rolls on this thighs working so hard. After leg lifts, he moves on to running in place, which he terms merely, "place." He does run in place, and quite well actually, although occasionally he gets overly excited and takes off running around the kitchen and around the living room. He has adapted the running in place exercise for use in the high chair or car seat, where he sits and kicks his legs as fast as he possibly can, and tells me that he is running in place, and doing his "sizes." The final exercise, and the one he can't quite master, is jumping jacks. He has the arm motions down, but he doesn't move his feet in any sort of jumping jack motion. He shuffles them around a little, but for the most part he stands still while his arms do all the work. After all, he's already done leg lifts and running in place. His legs are tired.
Thursday, April 01
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Why is it that so many important decisions have to be made while a woman is pregnant? Did anyone stop to consider that a woman is never crazier than when she is flowing with estrogen and pregnancy hormones? I can't possibly make a rational, unemotional decision under these conditions.
Keith and I are going round after round over the new baby's room. I want to turn our spare bedroom into a nursery, and buy the new baby a crib and a dresser. Keith wants to put the new baby in Owen's nursery, and move Owen into the spare room, with a new big boy bed. We can't decide what to do. I think Owen is too young for a big bed. He won't even be two when the new baby comes, and even though most babies start climbing out of their cribs at two, his is convertible, so we can change it into a toddler bed when the time comes. I think he should get to keep his bed, furniture and room. I think that too many changes at once would be too hard on him. Having another baby is going to be hard enough. Do we have to kick the poor thing out of his room, too? But it's expensive to buy a new crib. And crib bedding is expensive. What makes more sense in the long run? I am very adamant that Owen should get to keep his furniture. After all, we picked it out especially for him, when I was pregnant with him, and set his room up with love and care. I think it would totally confuse him to have someone else in his bed, or to move his things to a different room. I'm very emotionally attached to his things, and to his room, just the way it is. I'm way too pregnant to make a decision based on logic.
I had a major breakdown yesterday. I have to attribute these over-the-top emotional occurrences to the pregnancy. I put an ad in the paper to get rid of Gabriel. Our house is just too full already, and I'm nervous about having two dogs and two babies crammed in there in a few months. Gabe is the problem dog, with the seizures and pooping on the rug (which he hasn't done since we changed out the carpet) and chewing things up. He's also a full-blooded Miniature Pinscher, so I knew I could find a good home for him. As soon as I completed the online form to submit an ad, the very second I pushed the "Send" button, I panicked. I don't really want to get rid of Gabe, do I? I called Keith, in a fit of tears, sitting at my desk at work sobbing over giving away my dog. He laughed at me, then said, "Just take the ad out, Robyn." Oh, its that simple? "Besides," he tells me, "Dante' needs someone to play with." He's right, of course. And Owen loves those dogs like crazy. "BAY!" he yells at Gabe, since he can't yet pronounce Gabe, and chases him around. It's futile, since he'll never catch Gabe, but it's fun anyway. So I just called the paper, and they cancelled the ad, and made sure I wasn't charged any money. Geez, I'm hormonal. This is yet another decision, too big to be made while pregnant.
My son is growing up so fast. I can't believe how he's changing. He is starting to put words together to make little mini-sentences, totally ungrammatical, but he gets his point across. "Mama, cookie please!" he tells me. Or like last night, I handed him the phone when Keith called. Owen was eating dinner, and had food everywhere. "Hello Daddy, messy hands!" he told him. He runs around the house saying, "Hut! One! Two!" and occasionally he throws in a "Three!" at the end. He holds up one finger and says, "One more please!" when I tickle him. He's the smartest baby ever.
We watched American Idol together last night. Owen likes to dance around the living room to all the music. We were sadly disappointed at the results. Not that I was a huge Amy Adams fan, but come on. We all know she's better than Camile. And I don't care for Jennifer, either. So I was relatively sad to see her go. I also watched The O.C. and I love that show. Owen watched a little of it with me, because we've been trying to keep him up later, but he can't hardly make it past 8PM without having a little baby meltdown. Hes no night owl.
Owen has shots coming up on the 12th. He will be 18 months on that day. I cannot believe it. It's amazing how my life passed by before Owen came. Every day turned into a year and that turned into the next year. There was no way to measure time. Like water in a river. You know it's moving, but you can't see each individual drop whooshing by your face. But now that Owen is here, every day is a monument, so time is easy to mark. No two days are alike. Eighteen months. Gone, in the snap of a finger. Leaves me shaking my head.
