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.

The cold is actually quite bothersome.

Truth time: I've never seen Frozen. Alex has seen it once with my parents on a Grammi/Poppi date.

I can only assume that all the girls at daycare sing "Let it Go" pretty much nonstop like the rest of Planet Earth, but can't be sure. Nevertheless, the movie came in the mail today because I couldn't be the one parent to never have seen it and Target.com delivers to my house nearly every day, so I just added it to my last online cart mostly out of peer pressure.

Tonight, I was in the kitchen making a bottle for Harper (or eating an ice cream bar, whatever) and I heard someone in his toy room belting it at the top of his little lungs. MAGICAL, I tell you. Here's a bit for your entertainment and heart meltage:

Harper and the Hippo.

Hi, silly girl! You are 5 months old now. What does that look like? CUTE is what that looks like.

• You are wearing all your 3-6 month clothes pretty consistently and we just moved you up to a size 2 diaper.
• You're still a hungry, hungry hippo, eating 4-5 ounces every 4ish hours. We tried solid foods this month...and you're getting the hang of it!
• You get the sleeping seal of approval! Still going strong from about 9p-5a. As you start to teethe I'm getting up once just a few nights every week to put your binky in for you, but then you drift right back to sleep.
• You LOVE your Daddy. I suspect this is because he gets up with you every morning to feed you your first bottle, but he's also a pretty easy guy to love. I simply cannot blame you for that.
• You also love your brother so, so much. As he does you! Every morning, you two spend about 20 minutes playing together on our bed as we get ready for work--Alex will sing to you and "read" you books and you just smile and coo at him the whole time.

Little Miss Harper, you are such a joy. You are full of spunk and sass and you complete our family in a way your Daddy and I never could have dreamed. xoxo.

P.S. - Here's Alex @ 5 months if you're interested in comparing!

They very definition of self control.

Joey's been craving a burger lately. He's rather like a woman on a PMS rage when he gets on a kick for something--and it's usually in the form of meat or chocolate. See? PMS, totally. And since "happy husband, happy life" is also a thing, we went to Red Robin last night for dinner.

I've eaten my body weight and then some in soups and salads lately, so I knew what I didn't want off the menu. Be good, Kristi. Be good. Noticing they had a lettuce wrap option instead of a bun, I went for that with the turkey burger patty. To push myself to the absolute limits, I also ordered bottomless....broccoli. Thrilling.

If you've known me for a minute, you know how serious of a situation this is. No bun. No fries. NO CARBOHYDRATES FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GLUTEN. By its very definition, this is self-control to the nth degree.

I would like to go on the record to say that lettuce wraps were invented by idiots. Lettuce ≠ hamburger bun. Lettuce = salad. Hamburger > salad.

I'm probably going to be grumpy for awhile. You've been warned. But at least I'm funny when I'm grumpy, right?

I've never had a bracelet tell me I'm lazy before.

A few weeks ago I buckled in and bought the Fibit. Essentially, a wrist/wearable pedometer that goes the extra mile. Pun intended. Basically, I wear it and it tracks all the things: steps, distance, calories burned, "very active" minutes and sleep.

I wanted to wear it for a week without really changing my normal behavior to see what a true lazy ass I really am. Spoiler alert: turns out I don't move enough. You're supposed to get around 10K steps a day...I hit maybe half that. My "very active" minutes were pretty much a joke and we won't really discuss my sleeping habits around here. (That, I do plenty of.)

I'm a REAL glutton for punishment, so I also recently decided to add Weight Watchers to the list of things that make me want to fling myself off a bridge. See also: Barre classes, sit ups, running, and drinking more water/less pop.

So far (two weeks "all in"), I'm down about 5 lbs. and I haven't had any urges to a) eat my arm; 2) throw the scale out the window; or c) cry. This blog post basically serves as my therapy session to not participate in the above actions. And also to keep me from walking to the breakroom for a Snickers bar.

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