31/365

things that make me go hmm...

+ our upcoming trip to the great wolf lodge.
+ sorren counting!
- carpal tunnel. fuck you.
+ new puppy.
+ her name. berkeley!
- blue valentine. what a suckfest that was.
+ my cunning starbucks thermoses that make drinking coffee at 9pm acceptable.
+ tinker toy creations.
+ sarcasm.
+ freshly painted toenails.
- needing to be waxed.
- arguing with a three year old. and losing.
+ sleeping in, and my squishy pillow that makes it possible.
- sticky lip balm.
+ lusting over oldnavy.com.
- pipe cleaners. frillz.
+ working out.
- the frequency in which i drop my phone. i do not know how it has lasted me a whole year.
- shaving my legs.
+ hugs from sorren, followed by him telling me he yubs me.
- getting out of the shower.
+ peanut butter snickers.
+ my jerk.
+ cleaning, and all the fresh smells that go along with it.
- separation anxiety. it sucks, yo.
- going up a bra size. seriously?
+ odwalla bars!
+ sorren running up to me after he dumped all of his toys on the floor, panting and exclaiming, "i'm too busy!"
- sorren running up to me after he dumped all of his toys on the floor, panting and exclaiming, "i'm too busy!"
+ target.
+ lips that are soft.
- toys on the floor. TOYS ON THE FLOOR.
+ straight hair.
+ my necklace holder.
- taking the garbage and recycling out.
+ awkward moments.
+ long bangs.
- broken vacuum cleaners.
- the fact that i haven't cracked open a single book this year.
+ being excited to read room.

30/365

getting ready to break in my new kicks at the kroc

29/365

i get to bring her home in just four weeks. sorren is going to be so excited!

28/365

27/365

L ♥ V E my new tissue holder

26/365

chimichangas are never a good idea at 1am, especially wiht rice.

25/365

creep

24/365

impromptu haircut for the... undecided.

23/365

22/365

this was reilly's pictionary drawing for embarrassed. we won, natch.

21/365

ruby's with my posse. chey and tami & co. make for a fun night of fat salads and shenanigans. up next: the social network and the quest for SUGAR!

20/365

one of my most treasured christmas presents. i can't wait to use it!

19/365

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17/365

definitely less charming at four am.

16/365

15/365

so. good.

14/365

i couldn't pick just one...

Michael Franti & Spearhead - Say Hey (I Love You)

13/365

12/365

11/365

after nearly five months of being potty trained, sorren has finally taken a liking to the big potty. pretty exciting around here.

10/365

9/365

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5/365

thrice as nice

when we were in the month counting phase each month was my favorite. he truly smiled during month one, laughed in month two. he was sitting up on his own when he hit four months and said his first word (uh-oh) at six months. he was an early walker, wobbling down those halls at only nine months old. i was so eager for sorren to turn one, and when he did i was astounded. by his first birthday he had about twenty words and fifteen signs. he didn't want anything to do with food until he was fourteen months old and the only thing that charmed him then were avocados, veggie booty and fruit leather. he started running at sixteen months and i haven't been able to catch up since.

he quickly became this spirited little (BIG) thing that had his own agenda. nothing was getting in his way. he would ask me to turn the music on and dance with him at 1am, and i happily obliged. he would sit on the back patio at twilight anxiously awaiting the moon so he could say "goodnight moon" and get into bed. he was turning into such a kid.

two was hard. no, i mean it was hard. and it started at eighteen months. i didn't know what to do with myself, i didn't know what to do with him. we were thrown a couple of gnarly curve balls that year and we did the best we could with those circumstances. but those tantrums. the lack of vocabulary. the whining. the regression. and then came the guilt. oh god, the guilt. THE WHINING! no, wait, the guilt! it will be the death of me, i know it.

two wasn't all bad though. (it was.) sorren potty trained in one week, including nights, and has only had two accidents since. he went on his first plane ride to california with just kris. his car seat moved out of the middle and he had control of his very own window. (thank GOD for child locks. the novelty wore off for me in .0000005 seconds.) he went to his first theme park and rode his first roller coaster.

november 17th came and went and i saw a refreshing side of sorren i hadn't seen in a long time. we had our groove back, we were able to communicate more clearly, we were on the same team.

three means i can have intricate conversations with my son. he knows all of his colors. he knows every common animal and what sounds they make. he's starting to count and recognize numbers. he wears pea coats and doesn't ride in the shopping cart anymore. he gets himself dressed and washes his hands without being told. he has an amazing sense of direction and tells me how to get home from fred meyer. he can be reasoned with! he has shown just how resilient he truly is and i love him dearly for it. he is smart, funny, curious, kind, and definitely has a wild side like his mama, as he should. three means we're over our rough patch and onto greener pastures. three is a magic number.

4/365

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful boy

a tip of the glass to you

after trader joe's i was possessed to hit up claim jumper. chey was unimpressed with my voracious craving because she is impossibly anti-hype and absolutely against trying new things. after some mockery of the name "claim jumper," and an ungrateful attempt to elude what she called "the bail bondsman," we finally went in. against all odds, the amazing avocado rolls surpassed the ones we had at the cheesecake factory in san francisco last year. they were, to die.



thirty minutes later our food came (a bowl of potato soup and some sliders for chey, french onion soup and a fucked up roasted vegetable goat cheese mess of a sandwich for me. the bread was its only redeeming quality. just sayin'.), and even though neither of us could finish our dinner we obviously didn't turn down dessert.

for some reason the bread pudding was basically leaping off of the menu and into my mouth even though a) i don't like cinnamon, b) i don't like raisins, and c) i don't like soggy bread. i think i was only in it for the walnut-bourbon cream sauce, of which i got a whole teaspoon.



ms. hesitant perked up at a $10.00 dessert called the "i declair," and our server let it be known that the portion could feed and house a large tibetan village, but that didn't stop us. she quickly returned with my meager offering of floppy wet bread and this:



okay, dessert is serious business around here, but we were intimidated for sure, and i was insanely jealous. i had some dank bread and she had an eclair bigger than her face. i started holding it against her and scraped the speck cream off that godforsaken disaster i had been salivating over as she dug into that baby with zero guilt.



two bites later we were bursting at the seams and asked for a to go platter for the beast. that's when it started. as we were waiting for said receptacle i took a drink of water and chey decided it would be heee-larious to smack the bottom of my glass spilling water down my neck and chest in front of everyone. mind you it was something like 24° outside and 2° in my car, as my heater is a bitch and likes to try to produce something that resembles heat right as you reach your destination, but i digress. i was actually amused and proud of how ballsy that was so i laughingly said "that's funny!" obviously i took another sip and spit it all over her face, but that wasn't good enough so i upped the ante and poured half of my very large glass onto her lap. i knew i was in for trouble but thankfully i have no shame. as soon as i grabbed our food and got up to go around the corner of our booth and within view of every fucking diner there, i got hit with an ice cold tsunami on my back and it was war.

walking out, i was silently plotting her ocd demise and struggling to maintain my center of gravity while carrying the sixteen french fries she had to take and the dessert of which we do not speak...we only wear.

chey told me later that she saw me peeling open the flimsy tin, her eagle eye was no match for my reflexes, and in an instant, cheyenne, hater of all things sticky, messy, leaking, and touching her, was wearing the ten dollar eclair on her face and in her hair. i felt a laughter rise up inside me, but before it made its way into the frigid air, i felt my very own weapon smashed into my face. we were afraid to even look at each other, for fear of actually dying of laughter, plus when you see someone all fucked up with chocolate glops falling off her face, there's always the threat of a lasting awkwardness. but the laughter seared into the icy air and once we saw the delicious fortune splattered all over the sidewalk, well, i can't even describe the laughter about that. i had to find my glasses on the ground, people were coming out, we were soaked and quickly freezing...it was one of the best moments of my life. the ride home, with milk curdling in our hair, not so much. i recommend the bail bondsman. their "i declair" will feed three and destroy at least as many heads of hair.

3/365

sabotaging reilly's lunch

2/365

an abomination



turns out abominable snowmen like to be grown in warm water. fancy that.

1/365

fortune crackers