Tendencies

Pull His Finger

Finn just never seems to tire of fart jokes.

(Neither does his father, come to think of it.)

Our Pets

Trumped

Karin, just waking up, rubbing eyes:
"That was weird. I had a dream that I had Philip Seymour Hoffman's baby."

John, kissing Karin on the forehead as he leaves for the day for work:
"Yeah? Well, I dreamed that I met Jesus."

More Party Pictures

Our favorite neighborhood tree,
which watched over us and our celebration

The birthday girl, enjoying her very first pink cupcake

Shea's adorable buddy, Baby Sofia

Lookalikes Nicole and Baby Skyler

The charming Frankie Dino, Jon and Chrissy

Fashion Diva Christine and Baby Shea

Auntie Gretchen, cupcake goddess

Uncle Eddie, balloon master

Inseparable cousins Reilly and Finney

Uncle Brian, wisecracker

Parental Protest

While watching the news coverage of the various protests around the country this morning I saw a protester holding a sign that said, "Don't Bite The Hand That Wipes Your Ass!"

John and I have since decided to employ this philosophy with Finn and Shea when they're being particularly unruly.

Her First Birthday Party

We celebrated Shea's first birthday yesterday at our local park. It was a gorgeous spring day--not too hot, not too cold--and we were so glad to have family and friends there to share the special day with us.

Shea enjoyed her first cupcake and, perhaps as a sign of things to come, didn't seem to mind being the center of attention. At one point, she had five cameras pointed at her face and she didn't even flinch. In fact, the only time she protested anything at all was when we forced her to take her afternoon nap--nearly two hours after she normally does--because she was unraveling at the seams from all the excitement.

The girl loves a party.

Happy First Birthday, Shea

Sweet Shea,

What fun it has been for us to get to know your charming personality and watch you grow over this last year.

You are our baby joy.

Love,
Mommy and Papa

P.S. We should have recognized your fantastic potential for SCREAMING from the video footage below, shot less than an hour after your birth. A sign of things to come, indeed.
May your voice always be heard.

Birth Day: April 30, 2005, 1:57pm

10 days old

one month old

two months old

three months old

four months old

five months old

six months old

seven months old

eight months old

nine months old

ten months old

eleven months old

one year old

Sometimes She Reminds Me of Jack Nicholson

Twice As Goofy

Watching Her Favorite Show, Teletubbies

Say Uncle

This batch of photos, taken at Finn and Shea's cousin Reilly's third birthday party on April 15th, represents the old digital camera's last day's worth of photos (may it rest in digital peace).

We had a great time celebrating with friends and family and watching the kids tear open the pinata. But the highlight of the day was definitely the arrival of the kids' sweet Uncle Paul--an uncle little Shea and Reilly had never met before last Saturday--who flew in from Denver to visit us all over the last week or so.

Visits from Uncle Paul have been few and far between in recent years, so we all did our darndest to convince him to move to California once and for all. Hopefully, we'll be seeing more of Paul in the future (hint, hint, Denver guy).

Birthday Boy Reilly, flush with his newfound three-year-old power, prepares to take first swings at his birthday pinata

Sister Kendra, handicapped by the beanie, takes a blind stab at tearing the pinata open


The booty -- and subsequent mad scramble


Uncle Paul and Baby Shea, meeting for the first time

John and the kids in a quiet moment

I'll Take "Tonsilitis" For Two, Alex

The Good Ol' Days

Now that the camera's officially dead, I may not be posting recent shots for a while. Until we find a replacement machine to sate my full-blown photography addiction, I'll be posting images I have stockpiled over the recent weeks.

Here then, are Shea and John sharing a snuggle and a tousle in the living room a few Saturdays ago. Back before she turned into a snarling, fanged, triple teether, that is.

Woulda Coulda Shoulda

I woulda had a doozie of a photo for you today--a real gem of a shot that showed Finn fast asleep while on the potty, his head propped up on the toilet paper holder with Puppy Baby as a cushioning pillow--had I not killed the camera.

Well, actually, it was Shea's leaky bottle that squirted out all its milky goodness into the basin of my purse, saturating a number of important items, but none that will be missed so acutely as the digital camera.

I'm all twitchy about it, like a smoker aware with every cell and fiber that his/her cigarette supply has just run dry. John's doing his best to conduct emergency repairs but I fear the worst.

I shoulda never put the bottle in my purse, yes. I coulda saved myself a lot of hassle if I only had eight arms to carry the babies/toys/bottles/purses/backpacks/etc. that I seem to have attached to me at any given point of day or night.

Add to this latest inconvenience the fact that Shea's cutting three teeth at once and running a fever, making this week four of tending to sick children. (We went from an ear infection and conjunctivitis for Finn, to conjunctivitis for Shea, to conjunctivitis for Shea again, to fever and tonsilitis for Finn, and now this mystery ailment for Shea that I'm insisting is "just teething" because I don't know if I can stomach one more trip to the pediatrician and pharmacist.)

Sour grapes make bad whine.