Five Buckys

I had the thought to do a photo every hour yesterday. I started at 8am. I quit at 8am. Don’t ya know, if I did do a photo every hour, it would just be 10 of the same blurry photos of a drooling baby face. Plus my lens would need a good cleaning. So here, here is our 8am. And that’s that. Oh! Except here’s a picture I did manage to snap. And snap, it’s good! So good that Jared spent a good five minutes last night eyes-watering up, eyebrows all furrowed, smile painted across his face, holding his hand over his heart: “Jenna! The tippy toes! Jenna! Oh my word! The tippy toes! Jenna! When did he find out about tippy toes? Oh my word!”  

A little update on the accounts of my man, my boy, and myself. My talents as a mother have expanded. I can grocery shop using coupons and doing math, all while singing the Daniel Tiger theme song to keep my baby entertained. I can change a diaper on a super fast crawling baby. I can steam peas and chop the tiniest carrots like you wouldn’t believe.  I can tumble out of bed, walk across the apartment, nurse my sad awake baby, lay him back down to sleep, and stumble back into my own bed without even opening my eyes.   Bragging rights? I’ve got ‘em.  August is a lovely combination of baby and boy. He’d rather be crawling most of the time, but being held is too hard to give up.  See above picture for proof. August is really becoming who he is and I like getting to know him. He is very determined and focused with his toys. He puts different sized cars on his track and then turns them upside down and spins their wheels and laughs because wheels are hilarious. He stands next to his toy table

Picnic lunch with Jared at the Downtown Pavilion.   My very own house band and, when I’m real lucky, my very own circus act! Good grief, the cute! Sometimes this baby looks a heck of a lot like me. Well gosh! Swing, swing, swing e’rday all day.

You are my little puppy dog: panting loud and heavy as you navigate fast on all fours, tongue hanging out way past your lips, little tail wagging behind you. You even love belly rubs. You sit in the buggy at the grocery store and kick your feet and sing through the aisles. You make sweet eyes at all the ladies and talk to all the other babies. You have a way with getting a smile out of even the grumpiest cashier. I hope you can do this for your whole life. It’s important and it makes me proud. You love dinnertime. In just a diaper, you sit in your highchair as if you are king. I spoon feed you a medley of vegetables. Sometimes I sing you silly songs in which I make up on the spot and you laugh like I am the funniest lady, sometimes you have no time for such foolishness and say give me the goods, lady! I hear a faint “dadadada” over your sound machine. (You stopped saying ‘mama’ sometime last week. I miss it, but we had a good run. I don’t blame you, dada is totally rad. see video belo