Mother May I?

Mother May I? Brian makes sure every day is mother's day around here, and he spoiled me a with a fancy new camera this month (part anniversary, part mother's day gift).

Here are my debut photos, which were shot last weekend.




Memorial Day weekend was a nice blend of fun and productivity. We played, ate well and visited with good friends. We also maintained our house and I planted some veggies. Four varieties of tomatoes, two varieties of peppers, onions and cilantro. Sydney helped a bit, until I caught her eating dirt from the trowel just like she would consume applesauce from a spoon.

It was a good weekend and we didn't let Sydney's wailing drown the fun. The area around her mouth continues to chap/blister, and Brian says it looks like we are feeding her fried poison ivy. So, I had an epiphany while talking to a Target pharmacist Friday night and decided to take Sydney's pacifier away. She was only allowed her stifle stick when she slept. So, there was lots of crying (all her) and little sleep (all of us) this weekend. Her crying is frantic bellowing. The first two days her mouth only continued to chap because of the waterworks. Neither Brian and I can resist her for long when she's inconsolable like this, and so we take turns cuddling, rocking and swaying with her until she falls asleep. I know we are only replacing one bad habit with another. The last two nights were the worst, and I found myself not only singing the regular nursery rhymes, but also Christmas Carols and BINGO in Spanish. (Un perro grande tengo yo ... Thank you Green Mountain High School for that lesson. When my sister Julie reads this I'm sure the Spanish tune will be stuck in her head:)

If you ask Sydney, "Is Sydney a big girl or baby?" She quickly responds "BigGirl." It sounds like one word when she responds. I'm not sure when or why Sydney decided it was time to aspire to be a big girl, but I keep telling her losing the pacifier is one those big girl moments. As I say this, she is blubbering in the crib calling for her 'baby' (which we tried to sub the pacifier for) and her beloved 'Webster.' My poor big girl.