I’m sorry, Clark.

March 27, 2009 | Clark

This is not staged, I promise. I took it amongst many other not that interesting shots and only learned of it’s awesomeness after uploading them all.

I welcome any caption suggestions, as this photo is literally BEGGING for one. Though, “Stop taking nekkid pictures of me, Mom, and putting them on the internets” is probably right up there.

Blue Genes

March 25, 2009 | Clark, We Are Family

We have a pair of jeans that were my Dad’s when he was a baby. These suckers are almost 60 years old! There are pictures of me, my sister, and some of the cousins wearing them. We almost forgot all about them, and Clark had to wear them without a diaper to get them to fit. Of course, he peed on the precious family heirloom before the end of the photo shoot.

Here is my Dad wearing them at 3 months old. He is apparently a starving immigrant child.

Things to notice: HOT grandma. How did she have time to paint her toes? Also, she apparently avoided Mom Butt.

And here’s Clark!

Things to notice: The rocking chair is also an heirloom. My Dad bought it for my Mom when she was pregnant with me. Both my sister and I were rocked in it and now I have it. And those feet! I had no idea that they were so big until we compared them to Clark’s little friend Viola’s, whose are like, half the size. He gets them from his Dad, for sure. That toe stacking thing? Totally SB.

Shameful Vanity

March 22, 2009 | Navel Gazing, Whinging

I used to have a collection on my fridge of pictures I’d cut out of Us Weekly of moms who looked good. It had to be a papparazi picture, not an event they were all dolled up for. More like, Michelle Williams caught at Starbucks, sporting a cute ensem with Matilda in tow. Or Gwynnie lunching with Kate Capshaw, well-coifed, with little Moses chewing on her keys nearby. I collected shots of put together moms for inspiration. When *I* had a baby, I was going to be put together, too. If the gods were on my side, I would manage not to gain a ton of weight when I was pregnant, and then I would continue to wear fashionable clothes. To the stars I turned for inspiration. I would be just like them.

Ha. HA HA HA.

Here’s where the whining starts. If you’re not in the mood for vane, pathetic ramblings, please just move along and come back another day. I’m ashamed. Really. But I just gotta say, there’s almost no way to avoid getting a big ole Mom Butt.

I worked out every day of my pregnancy once the puking stopped. I walked a half marathon at 30 weeks. I did an hour on the treadmill the day before Clark was born. I ate healthily, indulged occasionally, and I gained exactly what the charts say you should, 27lbs.

[Disclaimer: PLEASE OH PLEASE understand that I have so much love for the pregnant woman, so much awe in that miracle. I in NO WAY mean to place a value judgement on my weight, nor do I have any judgement when it comes to the pregnancy weight gain of others. We are all Unique Birthing Snowflakes and this is all just related to my own personal, body image, crazy cocktail, you know?]

I thought I was HOME FREE. Like, phew! Dodged that bullet! Am still hot!

Ha. HA HA HA HA.

I had no idea that the real period of ass expansion occurs when it’s suddenly Really Hard to get to the gym. When the breastfeeding makes you VORACIOUS and if you don’t eat something R.F.N you will fall over and die. The first thing in sight is rarely a salad. This is all fairly obvious, but dude. I’m shocked.

Then there’s the whole stupid and unhealthy ‘food as reward’ thing I got going on. More specifically, I don’t get to indulge in the ways I used to, I don’t leave the house (or the living room, even) that often, so the day’s excitement really is Dinner. Or Dessert.

**SIGH.**flop limply on sofa**ponder the injustice of the universe**

So, I’m trying to make the healthy choice, do my 30 Day Shred as often as possible, and remind myself how fortunate I am to have the luxury of whining about my ass. It’s still early, right? In the meantime, I’ll just try to focus on loving my awesome, child-bearing, milk-producing body, and also, try to channel Miss Holloway.

Month Three

March 18, 2009 | Clark

Dear Clark,

You are three months old and you are getting more awesome every day. You’re starting to turn into a person with a little personality and everything.

This doesn’t always mean you’re happy, though. No siree. Sometimes you are MAD.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned it yet, but when you get upset, the only thing that quiets you is when we sing. Your Daddy and I have probably each sung “You Are My sunshine” about a million times each in the last month. I finally made a list of “Songs For Sad Clark” for variety’s sake, since it’s sometimes hard to think of another song when someone’s screaming.

You Are My Sunshine
Take Me Out to the Ball Game
Baby Mine
Bicycle Built For Two
The Patriotic Suite: Oh Beautiful, God Bless America, My Country Tis of Thee, the national anthem, You’re a Grand Old Flag, Oh Home on the Range… (It’s cool to be patriotic now, I figure.)
My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean
Oh Danny Boy
Oh Lord Won’t You Buy Me a Mercedes Benz

Anyway, it’s pretty satisfying when you’re losing it and we wrap you up tight, pop in a bink, and you’re asleep by Oh Home On the Range.

In the last few days, even, you’ve gotten better at maneuvering things into your mouth. Not only that, you are SO BUSY. You kick and kick flap your arms like crazy all of a sudden.

I found it difficult to write this month’s letter for some reason. I couldn’t really think of much you’re doing that’s new. I guess you’re just getting less grub-like. Sometimes you’ll sit on my lap while I drink coffee and read a magazine for a whole half hour. And then sometimes I feel like I’m scrambling around, trying to keep the wrath of the Tiny Dictator at bay. How about a story? Hey! Have you seen this rattle? This mobile is awesome! Clarkie! Look at the birdies! BIRDIES!

My imaginary internet friend Jonna just had a wee babe, and she wrote a post about how much she is enjoying her baby and how much fun she’s having. It made me feel kinda bad because I feel like I’ve complained about you a lot. More than I’ve praised you, for sure.

So, for the record, let it be known, my dear Clark, that I love you more than I have words to express. You are are quite demanding, but usually what you want is me, so that feels nice. It’s weird. Sometimes I want a break from you so badly, so Grandma or Dad will hold you for an hour. But when I get you back, it feels like I was missing a piece of my heart and now it’s returned. I feel so much better with you in my arms. In fact, and I know this is bad, but I’ve never left you alone in a room. When you go to bed at night, around 8 o’clock, I just hold you until I go to bed. I know I should go put you in the bed and use the monitor. This has to end sometime. But right now, I’d rather have you with me.

I am so happy you are here.

Love, Mama

Original Songs Tee Em

March 13, 2009 | Clark

Poor Clark has to endure a lot of his parent’s “creativity” when it comes to songs. Especially where jammies are concerned.

Frog Pajamas, Frog Frog Pajamas, Hey!
Frog Pajamas, Frog Frog Pajamas, Ribbit.
Frog Pajamas, Frog Frog Pajamas, Hey!
Clark’s got Frog Pajamas. Ribbit.

Can you believe how LONG he is? Also, please note, that when he wears his jammies with a dog on them, he must suffer this song with “dog” and “woof” substituted appropriately.

Some of these little ditties include a safety message. Here is my favorite:

I’m careful with my baby on the stairs.
I’m careful with my baby on the stairs.
Not going to fall,
and injure us all.
I’m careful with my baby on the stairs.

Poor thing.

Please save me, internets. I deserve better.