The King: Today while working at the house the neighbor in the house behind ours was totally laying out on her deck, topless!

Isabel: Did you get a good look?

The King: No, the slats of the deck were positioned just right. So they blocked everything from my vantage point.

Isabel: Did you point it out to your Dad? Maybe he could see from where he was at.

The King: Heck no, I didn’t tell my Dad. He has my Mom. That’s the only lady he should be looking at.

Isabel: Right. And you have me!

The King: Oh. Um….yeah. I totally wasn’t looking either.

What do you do when it’s so hot inside your apartment that you can hardly breath, but you can’t leave until lunch time when you totally have a lunch date with the guys from work?

You set up a backdrop and have a photo shoot with your 4 week old baby. (and by backdrop, you know I totally mean strategically placed pillows on the bed.) My Dad had requested that I e-mail him pictures so he can print them out in mass quantities. (My Dad has yet to meet The Baby, which breaks my heart. Good thing my folks, sister, and Grandma are coming out in a few weeks.)

After sending this new batch of photos to my Dad, I called him to told him to check his e-mail. He said something about how he’s received them and then something about Photoshop and then printing the pictures out.

Great, I guess my sophomoric attempts at taking non-snapshot photos of The Baby didn’t live up to my “former photography teacher” father. Hey, I’m new at this. Plus, our new camera won’t be here for another week. After that, just you wait. The pictures will rock. (Um…I hope!)

I had decided that I wanted some pictures with me and The Baby after seeing the ones Corinne took. I dabbed on a little lip gloss (as we all know, lip gloss totally makes everyone look that much better) and began trying to get a shot with The Baby and I together. While also trying to not drop the camera on his head, ala Corinne. I was successful in not dropping the camera, but not as successful in the picture taking. How could I expect The Baby to pose? He was too busy trying to lick me. As that is about all I’m good for these days.

I also sent the pictures to The King at work. He wrote me back and told me that he thought pictures would make his day better. But they didn’t. They just made him miss The Baby that much more.

Good thing it’s Friday and we have the whole weekend ahead of us.

(A weekend that will find The King working over at the new house. I’ll say it again, what the crap have we gotten ourselves into with this house?)

***

Damn Blogger and the formatting of my home page. I thought I knew why the side bar would be at the bottom of the page, but I am having no luck at fixing it. Plus The Baby is farting like crazy and I’m too busy laughing at him right now to worry too much about blog formatting.

So just ignore it, like I am!

I went with my Church’s youth group to Lake Powell one summer when I was a teenager. Our youth leader was super rich and owned a few boats and jet skis. All we had to do was chip in for fuel. I think it cost me $50 for the entire week. $50 which I earned washing windows at the youth leaders company. He would pay for the rest of the trip. For all of us. Sweet.

I remember we had a meeting before we left to talk about the trip and rules they had for us. Things like, the boys had to pee in the lake and the girls could use the port-a-pot. They also told us the girls all had to wear t-shirts over their swimming suits. So our baby-fat filled 15 year old girl bodies didn’t turn the boys on. As if. (Let’s not even get into how bad this rule rubbed me the wrong way. I’m clearly over it now.)

They also told us that while we would need to bring a sleeping bag (we would be camping on the shore), it would be too hot to actually sleep inside the bag. They suggested we sleep on top of the sleeping bag and use a sheet to cover ourselves. It was going to be that hot. I remember the kids who had been there the summer before telling us that as soon as you wake up, you need to change into your suit (and t-shirt) and get the heck out of the tent. Because before you know it, the tent will be so hot that you’ll suffocate.

Oh how I love that kind of heat. But I admit this heat was stifling. My SPF chapstick melted into oblivion. Everything stuck to my sweaty body. Blah. You had to spend all of the day in the water. Not that this is a bad thing-I’m just saying.

Why have I been thinking about this trip I took almost 15 years ago?

Because our apartment is just this hot. I don’t know it’s because we’re high up, or because we have two huge windows facing the morning sun, or because our blinds don’t really keep the sun out. Either way, it’s hot in here.

The AC unit we have in our bedroom doesn’t work for crap. The King turns it on every morning before he leaves for work, and I’m still forced to get out of bed as soon as I begin to stir. Even after a baby feeding frenzied night.

I drink ice cold water all day, and try to stay as close to the AC as I can (but it’s in the bedroom. What kind of idiot set it up in the bedroom and not the living room?). I try to keep The Baby dressed in his skimpiest onesies, without any pants on. This morning I had to unbutton his sleeper Magnum P.I. style, so he wouldn’t melt away before I could get him out of it.

We live in Seattle, where anything above 80 degrees is considered a Heat Wave (I laugh as I type that, but it’s true)! It’s only May. Summer here doesn’t even start until the beginning of August. What the crap are we going to do once it really starts to get hot? I guess we’ll have to spend some time at the pool at our apartment during the day.

Or just go back to work, with my super strong AC and tinted office windows.

(Hey, there has to be something positive about going back to work. Right?)

I know I need to work on the birth story of The Baby. That really is my plan. I have an idea of what I want to write (sort of) and I know what pictures I want to add. It’s just actually sitting down at the computer and doing it. When I actually have time. You know, when I’m not busy either feeding The Baby or snuggling him. Man, he’s just so easy to snuggle.

Somehow I need to get from this picture my Mom took of me at 41 weeks.

To this picture of me the night before he was born.

And then to this picture taken minutes after I was mildly conscience enough to see The Baby for the first time. (I love looking at this and remembering how hammered I was. Man, labor is hard. And contractions hurt!)

And then there is this “After” picture taken a few weeks ago. (Which still freaks me out. I mean, how did he fit in there?)

And finally to this picture taken last night.

Which needs to be compared to this picture of me taken when I was three months old. No doubt who is this baby’s Mommy!

Yeah, I need to totally get working on that birth story.

Just give me some more time to snuggle my baby.

Yesterday my baby sister started a new job. She is officially the first one of my siblings to break away from the store that rhymes with Mal-Wart. She got herself a job at an office. A real live office with computers, paid Holidays, and “business attire” requirements. She won’t have to wear that ugly blue smock and name tag anymore.

We are happy for her. The Baby is extra happy for her. He hates smocks.

Believe it or not, she had to take a pay cut. Which I tried to tell her would pan out in the long run with paid Holidays and vacations. Plus she won’t be surrounded by all the latest DVD’s to purchase on their release dates (the girl has a DVD collection that I’m sure rivals Quentin Tarantino). Plus she’ll actually learn how to use a computer. A skill that (unlike how to use a cash register) will get her an even better job in the future. Hooray for a marketable skill.

Since yesterday was her very first day, she called me in the parking lot before she even walked in. I understand that she needed a little support. Starting a new job is scary. We’ve all been there. It’s even scarier when you have no idea what to expect, or what they expect from you, or even worse, if you’re wearing the right clothes. Hey, it’s hard to have to pick out your outfit for the first time in six years.

Then she called me on her way home in the evening. She told me everything she had learned that day. Everything. She told me about the people she’ll be working with, about who her boss is, and who has face piercings (so while capri’s aren’t allowed, eyebrow piercings are).

I called my Mom last night to tell her I had e-mailed her some new pictures of The Baby. I asked her if she’d talked to my little sister yet about the new job. My Mom said she’d called her three times already. Once in the parking lot in the morning (maybe before she called me?), once on her lunch break, and then once on her way home (after she called me?).

Poor girl must have been really stressed.

I’m hoping this is just the thing to get the rest of the siblings to follow in her footsteps. That place may actually go out of business if they would all quit…

Today is my birthday. And tomorrow is my first Mother’s Day. Which means this weekend is all about me.

My birthday has landed on Mother’s Day from time to time during my life. When this would happen I would totally feel horrible about having to share my birthday with all the Mom’s out there. (I don’t know how you Christmas babies do it.) At Church they would always hand out flowers to the Mom’s and I hated that I wouldn’t get one too. It never dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, the world didn’t revolve around my 9 year old self and maybe, just maybe, the congregation didn’t even know it was my birthday or even care that it was.

This year, I almost forget that it was even my birthday. I woke up on Friday thinking that it was my birthday. It was a good 15 minutes before I realized it wasn’t for another day. Doh. I guess having another person to take care of makes you sort of forget about yourself. I think this is a good thing.

My parents sent me a little package for my birthday. One of the presents in the package was a chain and pendant of a little boy with a baseball cap on wearing a t-shirt that reads “I Love Mom”. It’s cheesy. Oh man, how it reeks of cheese. It’s gold and silver and just wrong on all fashion levels.

Which means I quickly put a better chain on it and wore it. All day. I may have even shown it off (proudly) to my Mother in Law. I’m pretty sure I’ll wear it tomorrow. Along with the lapel pin they also gave me, which reads “#1 Mom”.

No joke people.

(I don’t need to remind you of what my Mom got The King for his birthday, do I?)

I’m pretty sure I’ve never owned a lapel pin. Heck, I’m not sure that I even own a lapel. But I can tell you I’ll be wearing my “#1 Mom” lapel pin for all the World to see tomorrow. (And by “World”, I just mean the congregation at Church.) As far as The Baby is concerned, I am his #1 Mom. And I hope I stay that way.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the women and men who makes this world go round.

***

This is my first post on our brand new high speed internet. Which means one thing….MORE PICTURES OF THE CUTEST KID IN THE WORLD. (No, not Noah…)

So, I promise next week, we’ll have more pictures of The Baby. (Is that shouts of joy I hear from the Internet?)