7 Months: The Christmas Edition

Dear Sammie Joy,

It's Christmas Eve, and as I write this, sugarplums are NOT dancing above your head. I'm afraid, dear girl, that the four Christmas celebrations that we've had in this past week are four events too many. You're tuckered out and over stimulated and sleep is not coming easy to you. I'm not feeling too terribly sorry for you, though, because at seven months old, you've managed to rake in more gifts than most babies in the Fresno-Clovis area. Unfortunately, though, at seven months you could care less about the gifts; tissue paper is much more interesting than any gift you've received.

Our first Christmas celebration was with daddy's side of the family on Saturday. You were a hit, and quite happy most of the day (as long as you were snug in my arms). You got an adorable knit scarf and hat (from Auntie Bethany), a toy laptop, and some very adorable clothes. We *tried* to get some pictures of you and your cousin Keston, but seeing as how he's on the move and crawling now, that proved to be rather difficult.

I give myself 3/4 of a point for getting you guys in the same picture frame, but subtract 1/2 a point because no smiles are to be seen.




The second Christmas celebration was with my side of the family on Sunday. Santa paid a visit to this party, and much to my surprise, you actually were rather intrigued by the guy in the red suit...and didn't scream one bit, and if I look really closely, I think I see you smile. YAY!! Score one for pictures I was really hoping to get and can actually put in your scrapbook!





Ok, I'll give myself an extra credit point because those pictures were *uber* cute.

Did I mention that we continued the holiday tradition by posing the "new" generation of Willises under the tree? We put you all in boxes because you're this year's "gifts." Sadly, I didn't score with this picture, as getting six kids under the age of four (and four of those kids under the age of one) to look in one direction is like trying to catch a picture of Santa's sleigh in mid-air: downright impossible.

Well, at least I scored a half a point for getting most of you kids to look in the same direction.



The third Christmas celebration was at Nonni & Poppa's house with Auntie Erin, Uncle Grant & Ben. It was a breakfast pajama party, so you and I got the opportunity to show off our matching purple owl pajamas.

I got a picture of us in our PJ's, but none of you opening gifts. Score: zero points.



The fourth Christmas celebration was today at our house. We had Grandma Max, Grandpa Mike, Auntie Beth & Uncle Tom over, along with Grandpa & Grandma Pat. I'm fairly certain that the three wise men themselves must've snuck in their gifts, because surely your grandparents and Auntie Beth did not give you EVERYTHING under the sun the way they did today. Seriously--you've got clothes for the next millenium and enough toys to last for decades (at least, if you're still playing with musical balls when you're 30). I got quite a few good pictures tonight, so I'm giving myself a point for effort.










...and that brings us to tonight. I'm hesitant to say that you're sleeping, but it has been awfully quiet since I started typing this. At seven months old (did I mention that you're seven months old?), you could care less about the events of tomorrow, but I am beyond stoked. I've looked forward to watching Christmas unfold through a child's eyes for years while we were waiting to be parents, and now that it's here I'm just beside myself with excitement and anticipation.

But, seeing as how you're seven months old, you probably would be just as content to sit on the floor and drink your bottle. Hmph. Well, I'm still trying to start traditions, nonetheless.

We baked cupcakes for Jesus' birthday



...and left cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer.


...Santa even called from the North Pole to ask you what you wanted for Christmas (seriously--it's difficult to get the big guy on the phone on Christmas Eve, but you're so special we managed to call in a few favors). I didn't get any pictures of it, but I did get it on video, so I only scored half a point.

Tonight, on the eve of your first Christmas, your birthmom is really heavy on my heart. I'm so grateful to her for the gift that she gave us this past spring that I can't help but think about her nearly every day. I know that she's happy that you're my daughter (we talked on the phone a month or so ago and she said more than once that she's so glad she picked us to be your parents). I also know, though, that she thinks about you often and wonders what you're doing.

Thank you, Krystal, for giving us the gift of Samantha Joy. Thank you, Jesus, for giving us the gift of parenthood. You, Sammie, are everything we could have asked for, and so so much more.


Merry Christmas, Samantha!

Loving you to the North Pole and back,

your mommy

PS Took you to the doctor a few days ago. You grew another inch in the past month, so you're now 26.5 inches and 18 pounds 6 ounces. Still-the-greatest-pediatrician-in-the-world was stoked at your growth progress and has us feeding you *real* food now. This has led to some fun events--but I'll have to write about that another time!

We got Sammie!

Dearest Sammie,

I have been having so much fun these past few weeks with you. You've transformed from a (very cute) blob to an active little baby (still cute, by the way) who smiles and laughs at anyone who will smile and laugh alongside you. Seeing as how cute you are, that pretty much means everyone in sight will smile and laugh with you. The other day you even got a random lady at Costco to follow you around and exchange sly smiles with you. If you had any super power, that would be it: making friends with strangers and brightening people's days.

As the school days wind down and I gear up for Christmas vacation (hallelujah), I'm getting more and more excited about being home for THREE WHOLE WEEKS! Truthfully, while Christmas will be fun, I'm more looking forward to spending time with you, because you're getting more fun by the day.

Case in point: your favorite game, peekaboo. Whether you're ripping a burp cloth off your head as we say "peekaboo" or you're ripping burp cloths off of our head, you're having a good time as the game goes down. To watch you explore and discover new things (like peekaboo) has been so much fun. Really, it's way more fun to play these games with you than it is with your father or the dogs. Daddy would just look at me like I'm a crazy woman if I were to put a burp cloth on his head, but putting it on your head somehow is the funniest thing ever to you, so of course I'm more than happy to oblige.

Your second favorite game of the moment is "throw that toy on the ground until mommy has enough and takes me out of the high chair." It goes something like this: I usually have to do something (usually cooking or something to that effect) so I for what ever reason, I can't hold you at that very moment. So...I put you in the high chair, and being the good mommy that I try to be and wanting you to be entertained, I load the high chair tray up with every toy you own. That's when your fun starts. Rather than picking each toy up and playing with them and keeping you entertained for minutes on end, you pick up each toy, decide that it's not worthy of your time, and drop it on the ground. Before long, all of your toys are on the ground, and I'm left to stop what I'm doing to load up the tray with toys one more time. That's when--wait for it--the cycle repeats itself because once again the dropping of toys on the ground is more amusing than actually playing with them.

That's why we're not getting you toys for Christmas and we've told Santa just to bring you a box of Kleenex because surely Kleenex is way more fun to drop than a trayful of toys. (Kidding: you've got some very fun toys wrapped under the tree and Santa has been given explicit instructions to buy you a very cute stuffed dog that recites the alphabet.)

Speaking of Christmas, we're having a blast telling each other that "We got Sammie for Christmas," because really and truly, we did. With your finalization happening just a few weeks prior to the 25th, I'm very aware that you're a gazillion times a billion more precious than anything else I could've asked for this Christmas.

At any rate, we've been saying "We got Sammie for Christmas" because there's a song in Annie (which I'm directing right now) about Annie's adoption finalization called "We Got Annie." The students caught on to that and have been saying "We Got Sammie" to me. I got a little teary eyed today in rehearsal when all of them turned to you and started singing "We Got Sammie" to the tune of the song from the show. I'd like to say that you chose to be exceptionally cute and charming at that moment, but sadly you were more interested in the pieces of paper cluttering my desk.

As you're less likely to remember it when you get older (very few people remember what happens when they're six months old), the lyrics to the song went like this (the words are changed to what they actually sung to you):

Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Everything's humming now
Sammie
Sammie
Good times are coming now
Since you came our way
It's Christmas, Christmas everyday
We dismiss
Bad times, sad times
Now they're all yesterday news
Since Sammie kicked out the blues

Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Look what you've done for us
Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Turned on the sun for us

Have they sent the cheese?

Yes and ice camemberts and bries

Judge Brandeis


Sammie
Sammie
You filled our life with a song

Yep--life with you truly is a song (Sorry for the cheesiness. I couldn't resist--you bring out the "aw, gee" part of me in more ways than one). Hey--speaking of song, we're thinking that you're going to be a singer. You've got more volume in your *ahem* "vocalizations" in that little body than most full grown men, and you really like it when we sing the scales to you (the "la la's" as I call them). Whether or not my predictions come ture, only time will tell...

Loving you tons,

your mommy

Your Testimony

Dearest Sammie Girl,

On this, the week of your adoption finalization, I thought it only fitting that I post what I had written for our church congregation several weeks ago. Some of it you've heard before (in fact, I know that I wrote portions of it shortly after you were born), but it's worth reading again. It was printed in the church bulletin the Sunday you were dedicated:

We welcomed Samantha Joy Vogt on Thursday, May 21st at 12:02 AM. She's a healthy 8lbs 7oz and is 20 inches long. She was the sweetest, most adorable newborn ever. Now, at five and a half months, she's the sweetest most adorable infant ever!

Our road to adoption was a relatively smooth one, but the years preceding that were rough paths of bumps and u-turns as my husband and I tried unsuccessfully to battle infertility.

I don't listen to country music a whole lot anymore, but two songs immediately come to mind when I think of our baby girl and the paths that brought us together: Garth Brooks' "Unanswered Prayers" and "God Bless the Broken Road" by Rascall Flatts.

I'll be honest: I didn't set out to be an adoptive parent when my husband and I first looked to expand our family. I wanted to be a mom, and waited desperately to see what our "mini Sarah" or "mini Jay" would look like. My husband and I joked that we hoped that he or she wouldn't have his hairy arms or my short stature (I'm 4'11"--we need someone to decorate the top of the Christmas tree!). We prayed and waited for the day when I would be able to get pregnant--and carry the baby to term. I felt God whispering "adoption" in my ear, but I was determined to show Him. I was going to do it--I'm a Type-A overachiever and I was going to get my baby no matter what it took. Our broken road to a family continued through several miscarriages, countless doctors' visits and an insane amount of negative pregnancy tests. My husband stood and watched helplessly as month after month I got my hopes up only to have my heart broken again.

In October of 2008, I finally opened my heart and listened to what God had been telling me all along, that we were going to adopt. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it took four years for me to open my heart to Him and leave our family's future at His feet. Once that decision was made, a weight was lifted and I could smile at the world again. We signed up with Bethany Christian Services...and waited.

Meanwhile, in Sacramento, a young woman found out she was pregnant, and found her way to Bethany. She looked through several parent profiles, and when she came across our picture, God told her that we were her parents...and she listened. When people questioned the birthmom's decision to form an adoption plan, she would tell them that the child she was carrying wasn't hers, that God told her it's Sarah & Jay's baby.

God told me, when we got the call from the agency in March, that this match was ours, and I listened...even when it got tough and the "whatifs" started creeping into my head.

When we first met our daughter in May, she was twenty two minutes old. The nurses told me that the baby was a girl. What would we name her?

I told the nurses the name we had chosen for her long ago: Emily.

And I instantly knew it wasn't the right name. This girl wasn't an Emily. Could Samantha, the name that Jay was lobbying for, be her name?

A few minutes later, the birth mom's sister came into the hospital room to meet her birth niece for the first time. She wanted us to write down our name choices for the birth mom (who had long ago asked for veto power in the choosing of the name).

Our names came back, and the name game was finished for us. Samantha was circled--with a note from the birth mom stating that whatever we chose was fine.

So...in the hospital room, our daughter went from an Emily to a Samantha. And Samantha (or Sammie as we call her) fits her so beautifully.

The next morning, when she was a day and a half old, I went to look up the meaning of the name "Samantha." There, in bold red letters on my computer screen, "Listens to God" flashed before my eyes.

And in that moment, that very moment in the hotel room, I knew that I hadn't named her, and neither had Jay or the birthmother.

God named her. Because the three of us listened to Him. God told all three of us that her name was Samantha...and we listened. Even now, as I write this five months later, tears come to my eyes when I think of the amazing testimony to the power of God.

And no, our daughter isn't a "mini Sarah" or a "mini Jay." She's Samantha Joy, and she was the daughter that God had picked for us before either of us were even born. I praise God that He didn't answer my tearful prayers for a biological child years ago. I also joyously shout to the Heavens that He blessed the broken road that led us straight to Samantha.

Loving you now and always,
your mommy

Happy Family Day!

Dear Sammie,

Although you've been a Vogt all along, today it all became official. We, along with both sets of grandparents and Aunt Beth, stood before a judge and promised to love and care for you and raise you as our daughter.




The people in the court system were wonderfully compassionate. The court clerk showered you with gifts (a teddy bear and a Sesame Street book), the judge ooh'd and aah'd over you, and the bailiff made sure that we waited for the finalization to happen until your poppa made it safely in the courthouse (he was running late from school and then got stopped by security for his fingernail clippers).

You seemed to know that everything was all for you, because you had no problem putting on a show and smiling for everyone in sight. You also took it upon yourself to perform your new trick: a sigh, followed by a smile and blowing raspberries.





After we'd played with the bear and taken a gazillion photos, it was time for the big event: the finalization. The judge let the grandparents and Aunt Beth go into the jury chamber, where they had a great vantage point for watching everything unfold. She stated for the record that the court accepted the FAXed copies of the adoption records and read the prepared documents from Bethany (my heart sunk when she read that your birth mom relinquished her rights on March 21st instead of the actual date of May 21st--when I reluctantly brought the correct date up, the judge assured me it was okay and made a notation on the file). She asked us some questions, we and we signed some papers, and then...our lives "officially" began as the Vogt family of three.





I tried desperately to hold it together and to keep from being a blumbering mess, but failed once I looked over and saw Nonni's eyes welling up and her eyes filling with happy tears. It dawned on me at that moment, Sammie Joy...that you are ours forever. Everyone should have the joy of being able to stand in front of an offical and, in the most beautiful and sacred rite of passage, become parents with the teaful vows we made to you today.

What happened today was more than just signing off papers and standing before a judge. It was the "official" start of our family. You've been our daughter all along, but from this point on--the 'maybes' and 'whatifs' can be put to rest--you're OURS.



Happy Family Day, little girl!


All my love and then some,
your mommy

Warning: Lots of Exclamation Points & Photos Ahead...

Dear Samantha Joy,

Let the festivities begin, little girl!

In the past week, you’ve managed to dazzle everyone for my family’s Thanksgiving dinner, escape crying during your dedication at church, and take too cute for words pictures in front of our Christmas tree.

Oh, yeah, and your adoption might be finalized MONDAY. I’ve been trying to get the finalization done before your Nonni’s back surgery next week, but the lady who handles the adoptions for the courthouse has been out all week. Fortunately, I found a sympathetic ear (God bless you, Cindy Bradshaw, whoever you are), and they’re going to *try* to get us in for finalization this afternoon. Monday, December 7, just might be your adoption day, Samantha Joy! I’m so excited that I can’t stop using exclamation marks!!!

Ahem. Let me compose myself. No, wait, I can’t because God is so wonderfully amazing that I can’t stop shouting from the rooftops about what a blessing it was that the finalization was able to get worked out in time—GOD IS SO GOOD!

Speaking of God (how’s that for a transitional sentence?), we stood before our church family at Trinity Presbyterian on Sunday and vowed in front of the congregation to raise you in a Christian family that loves and serves the Lord. It was such a God thing that you were able to be dedicated on the date that our church had set aside to recognize the beauty of adoption. They had a beautiful slideshow featuring all of the adoptive families at church, and in the bulletin they featured the story I wrote of your name and how God worked in my heart during the adoption to lead me to you.

To say it was heartwarming is an understatement. So many people came to show their support (grandparents, great grandparents, aunts & uncles, and friends) and to pray with us as we dedicated you to the Lord. You were amazingly well behaved when we were in front of everybody, despite the fact that we’d managed to time it so that when we walked up you were due for both a bottle AND a nap. You were fine until Pastor Chuck asked to hold you during the prayer. Let’s just say you may have started the prayer in the pastor’s arms, but by the time he said “Amen” you were back with me.:




At any rate, we had a small party for you afterwards and Nonni and Poppa’s house. You got several wonderful books and toys, as well as your first Bibles from both of your grandmothers. Your father and I gave you the gold heart and cross necklace that I had received as a little girl. You wore it during the dedication, but I took it off right after because you were trying to eat it a little too much for my liking.

As we were looking quite lovely that day (did I mention that you were beautifully dressed in a cream and pink dress?), we took advantage of the opportunity to take some family pictures. What a beautiful family the three of us make!








The grandparents aren’t too shabby, either…

We also got some pretty good pictures of the babies when we went to Aunt Patricia and Uncle Jon’s house for Thanksgiving. You weren’t the only baby welcomed into the family this year: four others were born this past year, so we made sure to get all of the second cousins together for fun pictures (the turkey bibs were brought my Nonni):








While only time will tell, I’ll bet that the Thanksgiving cousins’ picture becomes a tradition in the Willis family. What fun you’ll have growing up with all of your cousins nearby!

We went right from Thanksgiving to Christmas last weekend when I forced your daddy to put up the Christmas tree Sunday night. I have been sooo excited to celebrate your first Christmas this year that I couldn’t resist dressing you up in one of your Christmas dresses and treating you to your own private photo shoot in front of the tree. It’s a really good thing you’ve become a pro at sitting up, because I don’t think the pictures would’ve been the same had you been laying down.













Roxy even managed to get in on the action. Ok, so she really tried to just lick your face the whole time we were taking the pictures, but I eventually managed to get her to lay down next to you. She’s a really good dog, Sammie. I didn’t realize until it was over that you were grabbing not just fistfuls of fur but fistfuls of skin—and the poor dog just sat there and looked at the camera:




Finally, I can’t resist adding this last picture:



I finished putting the ornaments on the tree last night, and put your “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament next to the ornament I had made last year to represent that we were a family in waiting. I’ll admit it, I get a little teary eyed when I look at this picture and think of all of the things that have changed in this past year.


Loving you today and always,
Your mommy

6 Months: the "oops" edition

Dearest Sammie Girl,

Whoo hoo! You're a half a year old now. I'm determined not to turn into one of those sappy, "Gee, my baby's growing up, it feels like just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital" kind of moms. I refuse! But...yet...can'ttttttttttttt....reeee...sist...the...temptation!

Aaarugh! I give up, because it really DOES feel like it was only yesterday that I brought you home and kept you swaddled 24/7 like a burrito and you weighed a mere 8 pounds, 7 ounces. Now, you're my 17 pound, 12 ounce gigantor baby and it seems like a day doesn't go by without you hitting yet another milestone.



This week, two of the quirkier milestones were checked off. First, you've ditched the carseat for shopping and are now sitting up by yourself in the shopping cart. Getting this new viewpoint meant that you were mesmerized by all of the sparkling lights in Target's Christmas aisle. Granted, it was only a matter of minutes before you grew tired of the lights and were demanding a bottle. Fortunately, I had brought the shopping seat cover and you were able take in breakfast and a light show by nestling yourself quite nicely in the seat for the second bottle of the day.

Later that afternoon, I was scrapbooking with your Aunt Erin when you , er, *hit* the other milestone. I had put you in the sitting position (sitting, by the way, is what you now prefer--gone are the days when you'd happily lie down and coo at the toys hanging above you on the activity mat) with some toys, and figured you'd be okay to play for a while. I truly do think that you would have been okay with playing with your toys for a while, but you lost your balance, toppled over, and hit your cheek smack on the footrest of your high chair.

Your second milestone of the day, dear Sammie, was getting your first shiner.


Smack dab on your cheekbone, just below your right eye. Just in time for Thanksgiving. And your dedication on Sunday. And (hopefully) your adoption finalization. This...is...so...not...good. My prayers were answered last night, because this morning when I got you out of your crib, the bruise had healed somewhat and didn't look nearly as bad as I feared it would. The relatives, pastor, and judge will all be able to see that we do, indeed, do our best to take good care of you. Praise God!

Quirky milestones aside, you're no longer exclusively dating the bottle. You've moved on to bigger and better things: solid foods. To date, you've eaten rice cereal, carrots, green beans, sweet potatoes, and apples. When I first fed you with a spoon two months ago, you looked at me like I was a crazy woman for offering you something that didn't have a bottle attached to it. Now, thanks to lots of practice, you've got the eating with a spoon thing down and look at me like I'm a crazy woman if I don't shovel it into your mouth fast enough. You're a Pullen, all right.

I'm a little hesitant to say it, because I don't want to jinx it, but I think we have the nap thing down. While I've been off for Thanksgiving this week, you're doing quite well with going down (in your crib nonetheless) twice a day for naps. Plus, you're still sleeping for twelve hours each night. Now that I've properly jinxed myself and surely sentenced us all to a lifetime of no sleeping, I should add that *usually* you go down with no problem. You took exception to this rule this past weekend when we were out of town for my Uncle John's funeral. The first night, you went down in the pack n' play in the hotel room no problem (thank goodness you managed to avoid repeating the Santa Cruz hotel room disaster by "practicing" sleeping in the Pack n' Play all week). The second night, however, you were woken up on several occasions by various people (read: your father) and freaked out each time you realized you weren't in your usual sleeping place.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, so we gave you a bottle each time to pacify you. The excess liquid must have wrecked awful havoc on your digestive system because OH.MY.GOSH you had the diaper to end all diapers that next morning. Not only had you soaked through your PJs and onto the sheets, but you were SO wet that when I picked you up my shirt got pretty wet, too. Fortunately, you didn't seem to mind so much and didn't get a rash, but as I washed you off in the hotel bathroom, I solemnly vowed never again to give you so many bottles during the middle of the night.

That said, it's the middle of the night, and darling, I have to sign off now. Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I've got to get to bed!

Loving you like crazy,

your mommy

Making it Quick--26 Weeks

Dearest Sammie Joy,

For once, words escape me. How about I let pictures do the talking this week?

Last weekend when you decided that my robe would make a lovely blanket to suck your thumb with.







This would be you when you were *ahem* going on a sleep strike this past week.










Finally, tonight I managed to snag a picture of you doing your latest trick: STANDING without my help!






It helped that Roxy was there to share in the fun:


Loving you tons,
your mommy

Let's Try This Again...

Dear Sammie Girl,

It’s a sign of true parenthood when the picture chosen for the annual Christmas card isn’t the one that makes the parents look good—it’s the one that makes the baby look good. When we took the family pictures a few weeks ago, I was hopeful that we had come up with some good shots—your dad had shaved, I was having a good hair day, and you were relatively easy going that afternoon.

When it came time to look at the pictures, your dad and I were looking pretty good—but you looked confused, perplexed, and/or dazed. Not quite the smiling happy baby we had envisioned. Back to the drawing board we went.

Note the dazed and confused baby.

So last weekend, we schlepped off to the park by Nonni and Poppa’s house to try to get a decent family picture with—wait for it—a smiling baby. I couldn’t convince your father to shave that morning, and I was having a rather “bleh” hair day, but we had a secret weapon: your Nonni. Nonni can get you to smile for pictures like nobody’s business, so I had high hopes for that all-important family with smiling baby Christmas card picture.

We got it—and then some. My hair may have been doing its own thing and daddy may have looked like Grizzly man, but you look absolutely darling, Miss Sammie, grinning from ear to ear. If you guessed that our Christmas card picture was the one where you are showing us the all-important happy baby smile, you’d be correct.

Vanity almost got the best of me and I almost swapped pictures for one that showed my better side (did I mention that in the earlier pictures I was having a good hair day?), but ultimately mother’s love won over and this picture won:

Although, in hindsight, I wished I had chosen this picture—

In other news, we went to Santa Cruz this past weekend. My dear friend Melissa was having a girls’ night out birthday party on Friday night, and I wasn’t going to miss it for everything. As the event was supposed to be child-free, I convinced Nonni to come along so she could watch you in the hotel room while I got to visit with Melissa for a few hours.

I had a great time, but a few lessons were learned over the weekend:

· It is not a good idea to stay overnight in a new place with a baby who’s used to familiar surroundings and routine, routine, routine.

· It’s a REALLY not good idea to make said unfamiliar location a hotel, where guests are probably not wanting to hear a baby tell her mommy how much she misses said routine from 3:45 to 5:30 in the morning.

· When I brag about how much you sleep through the night in front of other mothers, I’m pretty much jinxing myself.

· I don’t know how other mothers of babies do it—I was a goner after one night of no sleep.

· No matter how little sleep I get, you’re still cute. Even if it is at 4:15 in the morning.

· All restaurants should be on the wharf with outside seating.

· Double-check the route that online mapping sites give you. You never know if it’s going to suggest leaving a perfectly good freeway and turn onto totally random country roads.

· Nonni doesn’t like to drive in unfamiliar places at night, and she REALLY doesn’t like driving in unfamiliar places at night after a wrong turn when you’re already two and a half hours late.

· Visiting awesome friends is an awesome way to make a bad week totally awesome.

· When taking pictures outside, double check to make sure that the camera settings aren’t still on the “fluorescent light” settings. Otherwise, what would have been an adorable picture of three generations ends up looking like said subjects are all members of the Blue Man Group.

· No matter how much the diaper stinks, it is never a good idea to stop on the side of the road by a dairy to change a poopy diaper. Poor poppa was still trying to get the flies out of the car the next day.



Love you tons, my 25 week old baby!



Your mommy