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Owen'sday, Week 4

In which Owen encounters a gorilla and learns to love tummy time.

Happy 4 weeks old, Owen! What a wonderful 4 weeks it has been. I won't have his official stats until his appointment on Friday, but last week he had gained a whopping 10 oz--enough for the doctor to stop worrying about his weight gain. He's still long and skinny, though, and the waistbands of most of his little baby pants don't fit. Do they make really tiny-sized belts? (Maybe not...changing his diaper is hard enough already!)

His grand adventure of week 4 was a day at the zoo with his little buddy Lincoln! Lincoln is two days older than Owen. Lincoln's mom Keely and I took the boys and showed them the manatees, the polar and brown bears, the sharks, all of which they slept through, and the gorillas, for whom they woke up. At the gorilla enclosure, we took a break to play with and feed the boys, and were asked by no fewer than five people whether the boys were twins. It would be understandable, since babies all kind of look alike, except that Owen is very Scandinavian/Western European, and Lincoln's features mirror his Korean mother's. Oh well--maybe they were sensing that Owen's Grandpa Dale served his mission in Korea.

When Owen's not at the zoo, he's eating like a champ--every 90 minutes during the day sometimes, and every 2 to 3 hours during the night. He makes "eh eh eh" noises when he wants something, and has worked his way up to a few full-body anger fits when his mom is (how dare she!) off finding a non-soaking outfit. He's also made peace with tummy time...or at least falls asleep when we put him down, thus defeating the purpose of practicing lifting his head. As far as milestones, this week he's really started tracking things (usually his dad), and has absolutely mastered puppy dog eyes.

Anyway, speaking of the "eh eh eh" sounds, he's starting in on them right now, so I'd better be off. Enjoy the pictures (two are from a photo shoot by my college friend Noelle--she's awesome. You can't even tell that Owen was throwing tantrums almost the whole time! The third is showing off this week's church outfit. His first white shirt Sunday! And his electric blue crib is in the background!).

Love,

Tasha

Owen'sday, Week 3

In which Owen and sleeps for six hours, loves to snuggle, and saves the world!

Welcome to week three of Owen's life! We have been delighted to enjoy at least one unbroken six-hour stretch of sleep, although slightly less delighted when his doctor told us that he's at the low end of weight gain, meaning that we probably shouldn't let him sleep that long without eating. We've also learned that our little guy loves to cuddle--or rather, hates to not cuddle. Any time he's awake, he demands loudly that we hold him. (If you insist, Owen.) This week he attended church at the Riverside Ward, where he enchanted the young women (more than one proclaimed their love for him, and at least one skirmish erupted about who is one true babysitter will be) and met the lady babies his approximate age (Owen is the lone boy in a summer full of girls--lucky guy!). He's keeping those beautiful blue eyes open for longer stretches, and at any given moment can be found snuggling with his mom, studying with his dad, or saving the world from evil! Observe the photographic evidence. Ignore the wrinkles in the sky--an apartment-sized iron can only do so much.

Captain Adorable, we salute you!

Love,

Tasha

Owen'sday, Week 2

In which Owen learns to eat and to cry.

Owen's had a big second week of life. Thursday started out with a trip to the lactation consultant, who taught him how to eat like a champ. He was so excited to learn this new skill that he demands to practice every 90 minutes. I now feel more officially like a mom, since Michael can no longer help out with the feedings. I felt very accomplished the other day when I managed to both eat breakfast and shower and get the mail.

He's also learned the power of crying. That darling boy who came into the world without so much as a peep has, it turns out, very well-developed lungs indeed. He has decided that he doesn't care for being alone--that is, if he's awake, he must have someone holding him. We have great hopes for his swing...now that he's a bit bigger (8 lbs already!) we're planning on trying him out in it.

Owen also has no shortage of admirers. I took him to meet my old coworkers, who abandoned all projects to coo over him for a while (especially about his faux hawk--completely natural, by the way). And Vilo, Michael's best friend James's mom, is in our ward and stops by periodically to see Owen and help me get things done around the apartment. She's especially crazy about Owen since James and his wife had a baby only five days after Owen was born, and seeing him helps her get through the next few weeks until she gets to see her new grandson in person.

And clearly, as evidenced from the pictures, his parents admire him too. Enjoy!

Love,

Tasha

Shabby Apple :)

So, a few years ago I found Shabby Apple, and guess what, fell in love with their dresses. See? I even blogged about wanting to win a Shabby Apple dress!

It was all about the Antiquated dress, this lovely, lacy incredibly classy dress. Aaaaand, I didn't win it.

However, I couldn't live without it, and my lovely husband surprised me with it. What a guy. Here it is, and it is the perfect dress to navigate those iffy occasions when you're just not sure how dressy to go. Check it out:

Yum.

Time I started updating again! Or: Owen'sday, Week One

Since Mr. O was born (SIX MONTHS AGO TODAY!!!), I've been sending weekly emails out to family tracking his progress. He was born on a Wednesday; hence, the title of each email is Owen'sday.

I'm going to start posting them here so I have them all in one place. Enjoy, then, Owen'sday, Week One.

A week ago, Owen made his entrance into the world not kicking and screaming as most babies do, but in complete purple terrifying silence. He's still not a screamer, but late last night (perhaps early this morning?) his squeaks and whimpers woke me up and for not the first time that night I left the bedroom/went down the stairs/found the milk in the fridge/hiked back up those stairs/and picked that baby boy up.

His whimpers stopped, he started to eat, and with each little suck his eyes batted rhythmically up and down and up and down and, to the great delight of his mother, every so often would stop sucking and look at me and siiiiigh.

We've still got some work to do--like getting him to stop relying on bottles or if we're really lucky keep one outfit clean for eight whole hours but our little guy is pink and loud and perfect, and man, those little moments when he looks at me like "thanks Mom, for running more than a hundred stairs today and doing two loads of laundry and thousands of dishes and pumping every two-point-five hours just so I don't have to endure formula and doing it all on not so much sleep" (or maybe just "hey, still more coming?") make it totally absolutely one-hundred percent worth it.

in honor of romance

It's officially our anniversary today, and in honor of it, I'm posting my favorite romantic poem. Enjoy.

"Litany," by Billy Collins

You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass

and the burning wheel of the sun.

You are the white apron of the baker

and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.

However, you are not the wind in the orchard,

the plums on the counter,

or the house of cards.

And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.

There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.

It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,

maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,

but you are not even close

to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.

And a quick look in the mirror will show

that you are neither the boots in the corner

nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.

It might interest you to know,

speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,

that I am the sound of rain on the roof.

I also happen to be the shooting star,

the evening paper blowing down an alley,

and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.

I am also the moon in the trees

and the blind woman's tea cup.

But don't worry, I am not the bread and the knife.

You are still the bread and the knife.

You will always be the bread and the knife,

not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow-- the wine.