6 Months!

What the heck! Finn is 6 months old. How is this even possible? Yesterday he was just my little baby and now all of the sudden he's turning into a little boy. Why didn't anyone tell me how hard it is to watch your baby grow up?

We are loving Finn to pieces. He has such a fun personality - just look at the videos I've posted. He's turning into a funny man like his papa. He loves to make us laugh, so he really tries to be a little ham all of the time. When we go to tickle him, he starts screaming in delight before we even touch him just because he knows we love it. He's a big cheese ball!

Finn's appointment went great! He was flirting with all the nurses right up until the needles went in. Poor guy. He cried for less than a minute and then was happy again and has been all day - thankfully!
  • He weighs 16 lbs, 1 oz. so he's gaining steadily and finally getting a bit chubby! He's 26.5 inches, so he's in the 25% for weight and 50% for height.
  • The doc said his top two teeth are coming in! I never even LOOK at the top ones, but she showed me and his gums are all swollen. I can't handle this. Stop growing up!
  • Then, just to rub it in my face that he's such a big growing boy, he's trying to scoot and crawl with his knees all day! Can't I just push him down?

Here are some of his 6 month photos I took this morning - thanks for the adorable outfit mama Duck! :)


Happy Jumper

Sometimes, I feel silly posting so much about this kid. But then I look at him and I don't feel silly anymore. :)

(And I promise I'm not that mean to RVCA - she was nibbling my side!)


The Adventures of Finn & RVCA

Finn and RVCA are starting to be best buddies! RVCA let's him pull her hair and try to suck on her paws as long as she has free reign to lick his fingers, toes, and face.



A few years ago, right after my first semester in college, I came home from work and felt sad for judging someone and then later realizing I was quite wrong about them. I used to write a lot to get out my feelings so I started typing and ended up with this little story. I found it yesterday rummaging through files on my computer - I'm glad I did because it was a needed reminder. I've never let anyone but Chase read it. I'm not a writer and I know this "story" is super corny, but I wanted to share it as part of our journal/blog so I don't forget.

Why? Why should I sit here while they all stare and taunt me? I can see it in their eyes; “This is going to be good,” they say. I just glare. They don’t notice. They don’t notice very much. All they really want is to see me fail. I know they are waiting for me to screw up, to act like a fool. I brace myself.

They see everything. They see the wealthy housewife with her Prada purse and oversized sunglasses. She seems to look down on even them. They see the mother of three working night shifts as a janitor. Her back looks like it will break if she bends down one more time. They feel bad for her. They see the twelve-year-old girl wandering off by herself, trying to lose her mother. They even see me.

But I don’t understand. They judge all these people they see. The wealthy housewife probably spends all of her money on worthless, worldly possessions. Her kids are spoiled with gifts and starving for love. She’s too worried about looking the part, she doesn’t even take off her sunglasses when she comes inside. The janitor. They feel bad for her, like I said. She’s probably illegal and can’t even speak English. They are glad they are not her. Poor thing should go back where she came from. And then the young girl. She keeps peeking around corners, hoping her mom won’t come by and bother her. She has a cell phone. At that age? Soon they will give them everything they want and they’ll never learn what it’s like not to have nice things.

What of me? Do they judge me too? Of course. Why shouldn’t they? But I can’t imagine what they would think. “The poor lady, she is stuck here all day, almost as much as us.” They must think I have a nice family to go home to. I don’t. They probably think it’s noble that I at least try to live a happy life. I’m a good person, really I am. They are the ones who judge everyone. They probably look at my clothes and think I’m old fashioned. But I choose to be that way; I don’t want to conform just because something may be the latest trend.

The wealthy lady comes up to me. I brush the hair out of my eyes. I try to sound sophisticated, like I don’t even care that she probably hasn’t worked a day in her life while I sit here 10 hours a day working my tail off. She doesn’t even smile when she speaks. Permanent frown lines mark her fake, plastic-surgery tightened face. “Ha!” I think to myself. “That’s what money does to you. Makes you unhappy.” I’m glad that I don’t even care about money; it’s not important for happiness. Even they seem to stare smugly at this lady, as if to rub in the fact that they are permanently and pleasantly plastered with grins of contentment. They can see it when they look at her. She has everything that money can offer and nothing that it can’t. She must have had terrible parents, to end up that way. I answer her question and she moves along somewhere else.

I glance at them. “Bravo,” they say. “Way to show her that you are way more put together than her without all the diamonds and sports cars.” That’s right. I am. There is that girl again. On that cell phone. Doesn’t she have homework? And where is her mother? What kind of parents just drop their kids off here on a school night? Irresponsible. This girl is going to end up just like the Prada lady. When I was her age I didn’t have a cell phone. In fact I don’t have one now. How unfair is that? I roll my eyes and she yet again pops her head up to scan for her mother. You’re just fine princess; mommy won’t catch you using up all of her minutes and spending those bills you hold in your hand.

The janitor is here early. Maybe to look around at all the things she wishes she could have but simply can’t afford. She walks slowly. A lot is on her mind. They wonder what worries could be running through her head.

Another customer. I help her. And now the Prada purse lady is back. She’s probably having trouble finding the women’s section. They seem to wear smirks as she approaches. She hands me a long sleeve shirt with a tag on it. She starts to fish through her purse for the credit cards. Her glasses slip off her face and fall on the ground. Janitor to the rescue. She bends down and picks up the glasses as she passes and hands them to her. Suddenly I notice a deep purple bruise over the woman’s eye that had been concealed by the glasses. For a brief moment as wealth meets poverty, the two ladies exchange a look. As if even though they are from two different worlds, for one moment they completely understand each other. The woman murmurs her thanks to the janitor.

Maybe they were wrong about these two women. Maybe.

I look at the Prada lady again. Only she’s not the Prada lady. Now she’s the beaten wife. I notice it now. The way she walks tenderly, with a small limp. The sunglasses and long sleeve shirt. They seem to realize it too. It’s not what it seems.

They point to the girl with their vacant eyes. No sign of the cell phone. Still holding the money in her hand. It’s almost closing. She better get whatever she came here to get. But she keeps scanning, searching. What for? They come up with many scenarios. Not likely the mother. A boyfriend maybe. One that she’s not supposed to see. Or maybe employees? She did have her eye on some shoes. Maybe… maybe. I keep watching to see if she tries to slip them into her purse.

An alarm. I look down at my watch. Time to leave at least. No sign of any more shoppers. The girl must have walked past me without me even noticing. I go to collect my things.

As I head for the exit, I see the janitor. She is sitting near the large sliding-glass doors with a bucket and mop. She’s crying. In her hands I see some bills. It reminds me of the young girl. She had some… I turn around and walk back to the register. I feel like I’ve forgotten something. Or I just feel confused. I see them. They look at me. They are taunting me again. What do they see in me? The answer comes without words. I know now. Look at this lady. She chooses to see what she wants to see. How could she know what those people were really like? She passes judgment on them. She ridiculed them in her mind. She cares about no one but herself. Maybe not even herself. That’s what they think. But they are wrong. Maybe they were right once, but not anymore. I walk up to them. The three manikins stand there, always in the same place, in the same clothes, with the same judging looks on their faces. I laugh to myself. They don’t move or make a sound. They are manikins after all. They see only on the surface. They don’t have the ability to see what is inside. But I do.

Slowly I walk back to the exit. She is still there, with silent tears streaming down her face. I stop in front of her and pull my wallet out of my bag. She looks up at me as I hand her some money. She says thank you in a voice shaking with emotion. “No… thank you,” I say, equally as grateful. As I turn to leave, I glance at them.

They are just a bunch of dummies.


Father's Day

I forgot to do a post about Chase's first Father's Day! So here it is.

To celebrate, we did things in reverse order. On Friday night - before Father's Day - Chaser opened his gifts! Finn decided to go all out and get his daddy some basketball shorts, new church socks, a huge bag of Sour Patch Kids, drill bits, and a picture that I made of him and his papa.

This picture was inspired by a song Chase wrote for me during our last semester of college when I was having major self-esteem issues and comparing my design work to everyone else and feeling like I wasn't good enough and I'd never amount to anything, etc. This really gave me a huge boost and helped me realize what matters most - looking on the inside and not worrying what others think. It's something I want him to teach our son, and I know he will because he's an amazing father. I sing this song to Finn all the time as a lullaby.

Here are the lyrics, it's called Sea:

I'm a drop on the tail of a ravenous whale,
in the middle of nowhere and everyone's here.
And I became aware that the people I see,
are the people that live and they die without me.

I feel buried, so buried, at the top of the sea,
a fifteen-day ferry from the incivility
of the mountains, the mountains, where I still call my home
and the clouds take control at the top of the stones and they say:

"You're lost at sea... Indefinitely
Please come back home... You shouldn't be alone."

I'm a leaf in the wind and I feel I'm destined,
to be something I'm not, but I think that's the point.
I got sky up above and the sea down below
and with this blank canvas I'll have something to show

To the people, those people, the ones that everyone sees.
And the only care I have for them is them caring for me,
when I should be loving everything that's building up inside of me,
and throw away the things I'm not 'cause one day I'll matter to me.

"You're lost at sea... Indefinitely
Please come back home... You shouldn't be alone. "

Chase loved it, even though the colors printed out funny.

On Saturday night, we went out to Texas Roadhouse, which is Chase's favorite restaurant. And as usual, we were full from salad and rolls and brought the bulk of our meal home and heated that up for Sunday dinner. Fancy, I know. Here's my two men on Sunday morning before church:

Chase is such an incredible father. He's completely enthralled and in love with his little boy. I knew he'd be a great dad because he is the type of person that pretty much loves everyone he meets. But he truly loves Finn with all his heart - he would do or sacrifice anything to keep his little boy safe and happy. He loves to play with him, cuddle him, feed him sweet potatoes, attack his tummy with kisses, tickle him, make him laugh, sing to him, dance with him, give him baths, rock him, even change his diaper.

He's also an amazing father in the sense that he and I are equal partners in this whole parenting thing - he's always willing to drop anything he's doing to meet Finn's needs. To me that says more about how much he loves his boy than anything else. I know as Finn grows up, Chase will be there by his side to guide him, teach him, lift him up when he falls, and be an example that anyone would be blessed to have in their life. I know that I am a better person every day because of Chase and it makes me so happy to know that Finn be able to follow the example of a man who lives his life with honesty, integrity, faith, selflessness, and love for everyone around him. Simply put, Chase is the best papa in the world. :)