Clam It Chickie!

Everything must go in the mouf:

Squeaky Clean

Here's Tillie fresh out of the bath and into her froggy towel. I'm not sure what she is thinking. Perhaps it's "Hmmm, I think I could have been a little bit slipperier and more difficult to wash. Next time, more wiggles."

Stupor Tuesday

What an exciting race in Texas! The Texas Democratic Party has a crazy way of running their primaries. They mete out two thirds of their delegates through the results of the popular vote and one third of their delegates through the results of the caucuses. I went to the caucus in my precinct last night. It was a madhouse! At least 500 people were crammed into a tiny elementary school cafeteria with crowds oozing out into the hallways and lines of people outside for at least a block. It’s looking like possibly Clinton might win the vote while Obama might win the caucus, which is pretty exciting—so close!

I’m not really that into one over the other, so I have no complaints over the outcome. However, this process is highly UN-democratic. People with jobs, with kids, with disabilities, or with lacking transportation would have found it incredibly difficult to get their caucus vote counted. It took me an hour to do it, and I was one of the first people out of there. That complaint aside, the dream of my daughter growing up with a woman or person of color as president is closer to possible. The anticipation and fear of it not happening are almost physically painful!

Tillie is confused by the delegate/caucus process:

Oh yeah, and Tillie started eating solid foods this week!
Before:

During:

After:

And a bonus pic after a week of no posts:

Live action footage:

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

Baby Camouflage

She wore an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, pink polka-dot onsie...except it's not so teeny, because SHE's not so teeny anymore. My goodness, she is growing fast. I can't even keep track of what she fits into anymore. There's a certain reason that we call her The Tillsbury Doughgirl, and it has to do with a certain pair of giant thighs--so deliciously fat that I really want to soak them in barbecue sauce and take a bite. And, I think the reason that she is so advanced at holding her head up is that she has a little peach spare tire of a double chin that goes ALL THE WAY around her neck. This little roll collects some of the nastiest baby cheese, which leads to another favorite moniker: Tillie con Queso.

Okay, now I must list them all:

Tillie con Carne
Tillie Cheese Burger
Tillie Dog
Tillie Bean
4-Alarm Tillie (for when she's really cranking out)
Red Hot Tillie Peppers
Tilliedactyl (if you must know, it's cuz of the screech)
Meatball (goes with her cousin Raphaella's nickname: Ravioli)
Tee Pearl
Tills
Tilber
Tillstrom
Tillium (the cutest element)
Rototiller

Cutefits

Orange jammies make baby extra cuddly.

Who wears the pants in this household?

Killer Babies

A new chapter in my ongoing drama with the dogs: I worry for their lives. In all my fretting over dog problems before Tillie’s birth, and believe me I thought of MANY, I never thought that the dogs would be in any danger from the baby. But recently they have discovered how tasty bottles are, and they love to snatch them behind our backs and hide them for a good chew later on. Today, Zephyr walked into my office and barfed up a partially chewed nipple. Not only was this disgusting, but it foreshadowed something much worse. I do not want to have to surgically remove any plastic baby items from my dog’s intestine. We already had to do this two months ago, when the culprit was a produce bag and the victim was Zephyr. It involved major surgery. It cost us $2000. Now let’s see, what would I rather have spent that money on?

Mommy gives Tillie a stern talking to about her murderous bottles.

Daddy is hypnotized by her wily smile.

Innocently playing with Poppie, or conniving to take us down one by one?

Reading Is Fun

Tillie read her first book last night. Well, her wonderful babysitters and good friends Alex and Camile read it to her. I’m not quite sure how I haven’t managed to read to Tillie yet, but it is true. Thank goodness we have friends to pick up the slack in her education!

Molly Jr. vs. Scott Jr.

The big question when you combine your genes to make a baby is: who does she look like? When she first came out, Tillie looked just like baby pictures of me. See what I’m saying:
Baby Molly:

Baby Tillie:

Then, for the first two months, she seemed to be a clone of my mother, always giving me very thoughtful mother-like looks. This kind of weirded me out--not because I don’t want her to be like my mother (I would love that!)--but because it made me feel a little less like HER mother. It was confusing. Okay, maybe this is perhaps something I should discuss with a psychotherapist…but in the meantime, please compare:
Baby Ruth (yum!):

Baby Tillie:

Anyway, Scott keeps insisting that she looks like his side of the family, but I couldn’t see it. I knew she was getting away from looking like my mom and her sister and instead starting to have Scott’s mother’s coloring. But this week, I finally captured a moment where she looked EXACTLY like Scott. It was very exciting! Check it out:
Baby Scott:

Baby Tillie:

Of course, she just looks like herself really…and I love that!

Felt Good

Every Wednesday evening a magical event occurs: Craft Night. I [heart]love[heart] Craft Night! A group of my friends have been doing this for about a year now, and I cannot get enough of it. I usually quilt, but lately I’ve been informally touring other peoples crafts, taking a stab at them if you may. The most recent project I've completed was a set of felt alphabet blocks for Tillie. I loved the way they turned out.

Tillie likes them and she has great taste:

Chomp!

On display in Tillie’s room:

The backs:

The inspiration—a felt book with pull out characters, called Jungle Fun, by amazing crafter Corrie:

Clothes Colt

I finally went for-fun clothes shopping for Tillie (as opposed to oh-my-god-poop’s-blasting-out-of-her-too-tight-onsie-we-must-go-to-target clothes shopping). Sadly, I discovered that it is not only possible, but actually quite easy, to spend the same amount of money on an outfit for an infant as it is for yourself. (I saw an adorable sweater dress just her size for $58—ouch!) Instead of spending her college tuition on things she will burst out of in only three months, I hit the bargain rack. Wow, in babyland, they actually mark things down to $0.99. I even got some deals on off season prints, such as thanksgiving pumpkin tights, Easter lamb socks, an autumn-harvest tomato hat, and a summer-time giraffes onsie. Because her fashion seasons are so fleeting, I’ve decided that her outfits must be catalogued for my later enjoyment. This ensemble includes a little something hand-me-down (purple shift and matching bloomers) and a little something cowboy (trompe l'oeil boot booties). She's not yet able to walk down the baby runway I'm constructing, so here's a snapshot with her dapper pal Cat.

Two Tots

You don’t really know what’s baby about your baby (and what’s their personality) until you hold them up to another baby that is exactly their age. Comparing the two cousins (who are only 1 day apart in age) has helped me get to know just what makes Tillie Tillie. Disposition-wise, she is a bit more intense than her bubbly cousin. More powerful looks and fewer gurgly giggles. She eats sloppier—Writer is tidy and methodical in his bottle feeding, while Tillie slurps a lot and drools. Also, she holds her back a little more firmly when you sit her up. Writer is a lot floppier when you try to burp him. They are nearly the same weight, but Writer carries his chunk in his tummy, while Tillie stores hers in her marvelous thighs.

A pensive moment with Madame Tills

“Really Mother, how droll!”

Compare and save!

Side by side cousin antics

Aw, how sweet!

Happy New Ears

A few pictures of what has been going on Chez Tillie the last couple of weeks:

Aunt Violet and Uncle Honus introduce Tillie to the wonderful world of football.

Cousins Writer and Tillie meet for the first time.

First game of footsies

Tillie meets Santa. What did she ask him for?

Molly gets a pasta-maker attachment for Christmas.