Hoppy Easter from the VeeDubs!

**All photos courtesy of Aunt Jane, who in addition to being the world's greatest daycare provider, also serves as our unofficial family photographer. She takes the BEST pictures of my sweeties!

Bunnies and candy and eggs are such fun, but we also celebrate the TRUE meaning of Easter. May you be blessed today and every day!

Harper and the Hippo.

Exsqueeze me but when did 6 months happen? Pretty sure I didn't authorize that, but here we find ourselves. Our sweet, smiley girl is SIX months old!

As you can assume from the amber necklace she's sporting, girl has started to teethe. She's a drooly monster of saliva and will triceratops chomp on anything you put in front of her face. Anything. And yet, she remains the happiest baby on earth.

She's recently started to eat cereal and other various pureed delicacies and true to her genetic makeup, loves food. She's really starting to chunk out--fitting nicely into her 3-6M clothes and size 2 diapers.

She loves to be outside and as long as her brother is in sight, she's cool with whatever activity we do. Stroller or Bjorn, carseat or Bumbo, she just wants to be around people all the livelong day. She certainly gets her social side from Momma (not Daddy!).

Sleep is still amazing, and for that we are so thankful. There are a few other new-ish Moms at work and I see them walking around like zombies and count my lucky stars. Plus, her Daddy is a real morning person and loves to get up with her for the first morning bottle. Amen.

Spring is here to stay in Michigan, so we're looking forward to setting up the patio furniture and spending our summer evenings outside. I expect we'll have a crawler by then!

P.S. - For those interested, here's Alex and the WIPpo at 6 months.

Sneaky bid-ness, part II.

Remember this post? Well, it looks like we have another little food sneaker in the family...

Loveitloveitloveit. And, for fun, here are some more pictures from the celebration at Aunt Jane's yesterday! I love that she makes birthdays so special.

V.

How is it that something can go from this:

 to this:

in five years?

Today is not about me--at ALL--but it's incredible what happens when you become a mother, isn't it? I'm the same, but I'm different. Five years ago, everything changed. Everything. And for the better, too.

The world is a much better place because this kid is in it. He's going to be something--I don't know what, exactly, but he'll change something, someone in a big way. His spirit and his soul are too strong and unique to just blend in and be a wallflower. I can't wait to sit back and watch all that magic happen in the years to come. I'm so glad he picked us.

He named his new "best friend" unicorn "Penny the Wonderpony" and decided he needed to wear his Hot Wheels hat today because "that's what 5 year olds do." He asked for blue cake pops and ice cream for dinner, and that's precisely what's going to happen . Because when you're 5, the world is your oyster.

And for those who want to see the bunk bed train room reveal, here you go:


Right after I stopped recording, he shouted, "This is the best birthday, everrrrr!" I'm so, so proud of this boy.

Alex, thank you for making me a Mommy, for making me better. You are sweet and kind and you remind me and everyone around you that life is to be lived with joy, gratitude and humor. You're awesome, dude.

Onto the next.

Last night I tucked this sweet 4 year old boy into his toddler bed for the very last time.

Because this weekend, he and his sister are going to Grammi and Poppi's house while Joe and I work like the surprise elves we are to completely transform his room into a "big boy" space for his 5th birthday (which is on Tuesday. Hold me.).

He's been clear for about the last 4 months that all he wants for his birthday is a bunk bed (with steps, not a ladder) and train sheets (not Thomas though, because he's for babies). He's specific, if nothing else? He also wants light blue paint for the walls and a unicorn. I'm not kidding with that last part. 

So, Joe and I will spend the weekend transforming his lair to meet his little boy dreams. I've got sheets and train fatheads and paint and baskets and a whiteboard (more on that later) hoarded in our closet, just ready to be on display. The bed is being delivered on Sunday and cheese willing, the room will be painted and ready for it all to be assembled. It will be so fun...but a little, tiny piece of me was so very sad last night as I tucked those wittle toes that are tipping off the edge of that too-small race car bed in for the last time. I suppose the bright side is that he'll look SO much littler in the full bed that's coming.

And my point in all of this is that if you have a steady hand and an extra paintbrush, we'll have beer and pizza at the ready. See you Saturday?

Oh, hey 'dere.

That will be all. Carry on.

Happy birthday, Uncle Kyle!

Happiest of days to my baby brother who's a not-so-baby 29 years old today!

And, of course, a serenade from the cutest soprano on the block:

Pretty fly for a white girl.

There are certain compliments I think as humans we all want to hear. "You're so nice!" "...funny!" "....sexy!" "...beautiful!" are a few, but last night I got the single greatest compliment I've ever received in all my existence.

I'm 70% embarrassed to admit I tried Zumba last night. Despite what it may seem, I'm not a middle aged woman with self-esteem issues, so don't worry about me becoming some Zumba-crazed "it's all I live and breathe for" person of insanity. I did it because it was all of un dollar with a Living Social deal and I wanted to break up the monotony of my usual fitness classes and the dreadmill. (Have I mentioned lately that I've lost 10 lbs. so far? Well, I have. Get it.)

Arrive to class. Survey the room. It's the predicable mix of the audience mentioned above and anything and everything in between. I befriended a few septuagenarians behind me and waited for the instructor.

Girl came into the room and made an entrance, yo. She was young, sassy and a gorgeous mix of Latina and African American with a booty to boot. I pretty much coveted her weave (unponytailed) the entire 60 minutes it sloshed and swirled while she Zumba-ed away, not telling a single lie with her hips. 

It might seem like I have a girl crush on my Zumba instructor, and in all reality I probably do. She was SO AWESOME. She moved and grooved and basically put a show on for us. I kind of feel bad I didn't tip her.

Anyway. After class, we were in line to sign in and she complimented me on my moves. ME. THIS GIRL. She looked right into my eyes and said the words I want etched into my tombstone:

"Girl, you got some SWAG!"

OMG. I seriously died right then and there. I feel like this should be likened to Michael Jordan telling a young man that he's a basketball superstar, or Beyonce telling a girl she's got talent beyond her years.

I have arrived, world. I have swag.