Sit!

Office Chair

We bought this crazy chair that holds up a baby who can’t sit up alone into a sitting position. Now Tillie can finally boss us (and her toys) around like the CEO of a tiny company. The power is going to her head.

Let’s get down to business.

Tillie ordered Karin to make the ravioli into heart shapes for Valentine’s Day.

Cupid is a Cu'e Pie

I love valentines. They are a great excuse to use stickers and stamps and pinking shears and glitter and pipe cleaners and...

Haute Cousine

Tillie now has a new baby girl cousin who was just born to my brother and his wife early this morning. (Excitement!) I tried to explain to Tillie the significance of the event, but she is either playing it cool or hasn't quite figured out how awesome this is. My brother will now get to do what I do all day, which is make tutus for my daughter and then dress her up in silly outfits for baby fashion shoots.

A brilliantly crafty friend Liz made this adorable sweater vest that the tutu matches.

What fabric is this? Tulle is cool!

Yes, I've sealed the deal: Tillie will definitely end up a punk-rock P.I.B. vampire with many piercings as a direct response to this ridiculously fruffy pastime, but I don't care!

Doesn't she look like the Russian Princess Mathilde Romanova-Krasinskaya, who also wore tutus?

[Image from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mathilde]

The Growl of the Juvenile Tillisaurus

Sadly, I have not been lucky enough to catch it on film, but Tillie has been practicing her low notes recently. If I were easily spooked, I would have thought her possessed. Perhaps she learned this growl noise from the dogs? I've never heard a baby make the sound. As soon as I capture this elusive tune, I will share with y'all.

Caught on film:

1040-I.O.U.

People say that you finally have to grow up when you have a kid. Yes, someone has to change the dirty diapers, mop up the puke, endure the screaming, and clip the little fingernails. But all this is fun parenting. The hard part for me is the money stress.

I’m a parent now, so suddenly, it is not okay to skimp on retirement savings, rack up student loans for useless degrees, experiment with not having electricity, tease the goddess of home foreclosure, be passive-aggressive with the IRS, and play Russian roulette with crappy health insurance.

The health insurance thing is rearing its ugly head once more. This time, they are acting like they will gladly insure me (hooray for no longer being pregnant!) but they just can’t decide how big a wad they want to extract from my sad little wallet. They are sizing us up, picking through our health histories, and threatening to make us pay royally for not-so-royal coverage. I want to just quit. I want my mommy—no actually, I want my HR person. Every day, I consider throwing in the towel and applying for some job, any job, one that comes with cheap and automatic health insurance, paid sick days, a regular paycheck, a sweet 401K, routine tax withholding, and the occasional free donut.

Lunchbreak!

Postprandial window gazing