Wade In The Water

Sunday we had our lovely little Augustus baptized. Organizing a ceremony with the Catholic church is always a challenge – just getting someone to return your call let alone GASP put you on the calendar!

I always find stuff like this stressful – who to invite? party after? what to serve? gifts for the baby. gifts for the Godparents. Explaining to Baylor that baptizing ALL of her animals in the sink is not a good idea. where is the baptism gown? will it fit The Tank? which priest will we get? Cripes I’m tired even writing it. But all the work that went into Sunday paid off. We had a simple and beautiful ceremony with Auggie wearing my baptism gown (which Baylor also wore) and there were no tears, only cute smiles all around. We are incredibly blessed with great friends who willingly get out of bed on a Sunday morning to attend mass, a ceremony and a party – not to mention our family members who did the same. It was so special!

Having your sin washed away is exhausting.




The proud Godparents Beth and Grant (and baby Grace coming March 2013!)


It’s so funny to think if we only knew how good life would be  when Beth and I were cruising around in her VW Cabriolet with the top down.



As Beth and I were changing Augg before the ceremony, a little Mexican grandma stopped, pinched Auggie’s cheeks and said “oh gordita!!”. My first response was “he’s a boy” and then I realized that I was more offended that she called him a girl than fat…then I was annoyed that she thought the two gringas wouldn’t know she was insulting my sweet boy. I was later assured by another Nana that gordita (or more correctly, gordito) is a just a nice way of saying he’s adorably chubby. No insults involved. Which made me feel better. And thankful I paid some attention in high school spanish.

An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse

This past weekend I became a Godmother (again!) to one Ms. Nicole-Maree Isabella. Nic’s momma and I go way back to my first years at Merkle. Donna worked in HR and was the one who sent me my offer letter. Then I trained her in data processing and eventually handed over clients as I moved into data base. And finally we worked on the same team in data base. It’s funny to see how our paths intertwined over the years!

Donna called me a few weeks ago and asked if I would be Nic’s godmother – something I (and she) consider to be a great honor. Sadly, the bank account didn’t quite allow for a family trip, and PW’s schedule didn’t quite work for a solo trip so I was a godmother by proxy. But proxy godmothers do send nice gifts so I she’s got that going for her 😉

Is she not the cutest thing? The headband was a gift from yours truly (however, I have to give Donna credit for the idea) and the dress was Donna’s. I love the tradition of wearing a family garment for baptisms!

Holy Head Butt

This past Sunday marked yet another week of taking our sweet soon-to-be-two-year old to church. A ritual we’ve done since the week she was born. And until the last few months, has been a relatively simple process. As she enters the second year of her life, she has a new-found fun time at church. Mainly torturing her parents.

Last weekend Baylor was frustrated, hot and bored. In an effort to get my attention and thus relocated to the much more interesting and fun vestibule of the church, she attempted to head butt me. I gave her the mom stare trying to telepathically tell her “knock it off” when she went for a second shot. I’m quite sure that she knew that my usual response to a head butt is a head butt – which I obviously do gently and in a “I’m going to show you that this hurts” teaching kind of way. However, when someone sees you head butt your child, they tend to frown on that. Especially in a place of worship. Therefore my little Einstein knew if she threw her noggin at mine, she was probably A. going to get away with it and B. get to go to the vestibule.  And she was right.

So instead of a demerit system and empty threats, we tried a reward system. If Baylor was quiet, we would quietly thank her for being silent and then give her a yogurt raisin (her favorite). Brilliant? Maybe. But worth a shot none the less. I have to say that it did work, until about a half hour in. The little stinker caught on and then started making noise in order to be shushed and then she knew she got a raisin for being quiet. She’s either going to be president or live in a secluded cabin somewhere running a blog that plots to take over the world.

The one redeeming quality is she’s really stinking cute and I am always sure to dress her equally as adorable. Mostly because I think people are more tolerant of cute kids.

Church Talk

This is the conversation Peter and I had on the way into church yesterday. I’m going to leave out who said what. You’ll get why.

“Oh no. I think I forgot to put on deoderent.”

“That’s ok. I forgot to brush my teeth.”

“Well at least we won’t have to worry about anyone sitting too close to us.”


Baylie and the Ashes

For those non Catholics (or Catholics who forgot) today is Ash Wednesday – which is why many are walking around with what looks to be schmutz from pressing their forehead against a dirty window. It is the commencement of Lent, the time where we prepare for Easter. Or otherwise known as the time where people come up with something silly in their lives to give up and promptly bail on it four days later.

Baylie and I attended Mass this morning with Pop and Noni (Jim and Jude – my parentals) and also Uncle Mike (“Aaah My” as B says) joined us. We were a minute late and ended up sitting in front of Pop and Noni – which means Bay spent the entire hour walking or trying to climb back to them.

After getting our ashes, B was horrified. I have passed my germ-a-phobe ways on to her so she was disgusted by the fact everyone had dirt on their heads. She made a face that she usually only uses when she is telling me she needs a diaper change – a furrowed brow, a wrinkled nose and her little gapped front teeth showing. She then proceeded to point to each of our heads and say “eeewwwww”. When I pointed out that she too had the dirt, she began to rub her own head and mine to get clean. Thankfully she’s adorable so most of the parishioners around us didn’t mind her judgment.

Needless to say, the ashes didn’t make it to pancakes after church.

My Solemn Vow

I have decided here and now that no matter how many kids we have, no matter how tired I am and no matter how much they hate to have their hair brushed, my children will never look like they have a rat nest for hair.

We always see the same family at church and even when their kids are split up by age into their religious class groups in the front, you can spot them. They all have crazy hair. And I don’t mean like it’s a little messy in the back. I mean the girls have creases from various pony and pig tail combinations coupled with a severe case of bed head and atrocious lack of conditioner. I want to bathe them all, slather their heads in Pantene and comb their locks into neat little pig tails with ribbons.

On a side note, I tried to play “beauty shop” with Baylie this week. She has neither the hair nor the patience to do so.