Taylor tude

Ever had one of those days when no matter how hard you tried to get the washclothes away from your almost-ten month old, she cried and had a total melt-down? And after trying in a real sweet voice, then a stern voice, then a ‘Seriously. You’re crying over stupid washclothes?’ voice, you finally just let her keep the new treasure just so she’d stop crying. And then you try to bribe her with banana puffs to let them go, and THAT doesn’t even work.

Those are the days that happy hour starts promptly at five.

Let me tell you about my best friend

So when my sister visited Asheville last weekend, my friend Paige decided she would enlist some of Libba’s amazing camera talents and have her take pictures of Elliot. Who has, by the way, gone from an adorable infant to a little lady. And as Paige chased her daughter around the playground, Chris kept asking me, That’s only THREE months away?

And, of course, we had to get a few snapshots of the BFFs.

Oh. My. God. The cuteness.

Libba dibba do

We were lucky to have Libba and Piper the pup come to Asheville for a long weekend. Being about a million miles away from our families is more than tough for me and Chris, but a bright light in our Asheville location is being less than six hours away from my sister. We’ve been averaging close to a visit a month since September, which makes my heart smile very big. And Taylor L-O-V-E-S her Aunt Libba – But she’s still warming up to Piper, which was due to the constant puppy kisses and tackles during their visit.

And not only did Libba accompany me to Ladies Night with my girls over sushi and giant beers, but she volunteered to watch her goddaughter while my handsome husband and I went out for a date. And I wore fancy shoes and we stayed out past 10. And it was heavenly.

The rest of the visit was spent outside enjoying the spring-like weather. I don’t want to hurt the feelings of all of my frozen Midwest friends, but we’ve been basking in sunny, 60-degree weather for the past four days. And that marks another bright light in living in the Southeast. So if you were privy to our cul-de-sac this weekend, you would have seen three pale adults, one cute baby and two hyperactive canines loving life and breathing in the fresh mountain air.

And, of course, my extremely talented sister took some amazing pictures of my growing girl. It’s great to get Libba’s evaluation each visit of how Taylor’s growing. My baby is getting big, and looking through some of these pictures it’s hard to see that chubby, little infant we brought home from the hospital nearly ten months ago.

Baby rage

We had a rather uneventful weekend at the Famous Amys house. And by uneventful, I mean sick with colds. And just as Chris and I turned the corner, Taylor’s nose stuffed-up and I had to dig the booger-sucker out of the medicine cabinet. She has snot just streaming out of her face, making it impossible to eat, sleep or suck on her binky. Which, other than terrorizing Ruby and pulling everything out of her toy box, are three of her most favorite things.

So since we’ve been quarantined, and our normally mild Asheville weather has dipped below freezing, I’ve been spending my downtime eating peanut butter, improving the appearance of my toes and organizing digital photos. All at the same time. Impressed? Anyway, after a taking a trip down memory lane looking at all of Taylor’s pictures, I noticed that while 95-percent of all the images are adorable, I have managed to capture a few of her baby rages in the past nine months. And since I’m always posting pictures of her flashing that cheesy grin, I thought it only appropriate to show the evolution of Taylor’s ‘tude.

June 20th - Rage due to Momma being all up in her face with the camera:

July 14th - Rage due to Momma not pushing the button on her toy fast enough:

August 19th - Rage due to not wanting to be a princess:

September 27th - Rage due to not getting a long enough nap:

October 24th - Rage due to wearing a festive, matching bow and onesie:

November 29th - Rage due to not wanting to be a ballerina:

December 27th - Rage due to getting a face full of bubbles in the bathtub:

January 3rd - Rage due to her banana puffs rolling into the center of the table:

And, yes, while some may find this offensive, I find it rather amusing. Probably because she is laughing and cheesing 95-percent of the time. And as for the other five-percent... well, let’s just say it’s clear she comes from the Blackwell family.

Mother’s little helper

So Taylor’s been crawling for nearly two months now, and I’ve still been a slacker as far as totally baby proofing the house. Don’t worry, we’ve covered the outlets and hid the poison, but I have yet to install cabinet and drawer-stoppers. So basically anything in the bottom section of the kitchen is fair game. Which is fine to everyone but Ruby, who has had to use her keen dog senses to find where I’ve moved her water dish to for that moment. And I’m pretty sure Taylor has the same dog senses, because she manages to find it no matter where it’s hidden. Amazing.

And of all the things she’s pulled out of the drawers lately, her absolute favorite are the freezer bags. She pulls each bag out individually with a look of wonderment on her face, like Holy cow, there’s ANOTHER one in here! This is awesome!

And then, because I don’t share in her enthusiasm for emptying the whole box, she’ll show her new treasure to her buddy, which happens to be her own reflection in the oven. And Flo, which is what we call her reflective twin, is always equally amazed.

Updated stats and shiny incentives

Taylor had her nine month check-up yesterday, and other than being about the cutest baby in the world, everything else looked normal. She is now weighing in at a whopping 21 pounds, 10 ounces, and she is grown to 28 ½ inches long. These new measurements bump her down from the 95th to the 90th percentile of nine month olds. Not exactly shrinking, but definitely evening out.

One of the ways she dropped that five-percent is her constant flurry of action, including her new trick of climbing up the stairs. And since we have three, functioning floors in our house, we have been guiding her every step of the way.

We were trying to show off her new stunt to Chris’s parents when they were in town, she was pretty tuckered-out and tried to stop half way up the staircase. And when the stuffed lion bribe didn’t work, Grandpa came to the rescue and laid down his Rolex.

Smart girl.

I scream, you scream

Princess Elliot Scully turned one this past Friday, and being that she is Taylor’s one and only BFF, we had to make an appearance at the fabulous birthday party Paige and Danny threw yesterday afternoon. There were wall-to-wall kiddos and lots of new and exciting toys that Taylor was dying to fit in her mouth.

I was hoping to get a good shot of Taylor and the birthday girl, but there was way too much excitement. Luckily we had Danny there to wrangle them together for a photo.

And Taylor, of course, had her share of ice cream and also her first taste of cake. Paige not only organized the whole event, but she also baked a gorgeous, organic, made-from-scratch, tasty treat for her first born. Way to set the bar, Paige. Super mom.

And to top off the thrill of new friends and cream cheese frosting, we’re blessed to have Chris’s parents stop in Asheville for a few days on their way to Tampa. And, in true grandparent fashion, they’ve been doting on Taylor since they got here. We went to mass this morning at the Basilica, and Taylor lasted about two minutes before her Grandpa had to take her to the cry room with the rest of the naughty kids. And even though she was a nightmare the entire service, she still managed to get tons of compliments from her Grandma and Grandpa. Because she looked cute. Grandparents are suckers. I’m pretty sure she could have burned the place down and they would have just smiled and said, Oh. But look how blue her eyes look reflecting the flames. She’s just precious.

Nine months old

Happy nine month birthday, Taylor-tot! Our little monkey is three months away from turning the big One. Unbelievable. We have her nine month check-up on Monday and Chris and I are starting to take bets on her new stats. One thing’s for sure, she’s totally over 20 pounds. And the reason I know is because she refuses to hold on while I’m holding her. Won’t help me out one bit. And so not only is my left bicep becoming more and more chiseled, but I know that she’s bigger than most babies her age. And cuter.

But here’s a twist in the story, even though she’s getting heavier, she’s starting to thin out. Which I’m sure is a result from the constant crawling and motion. The girl is only still when sleeping and eating. Taylor’s puffy popeye arms are down to three rolls, and she starting to lose her chubby cheeks. NO! What am I going to put in my mouth all day? She’s starting to look more like a little kid, not a cherubic infant.

We were blessed to spend our first holiday as a family this past month. Pretty big milestone. In fifty years we’ll look back and think, Ah. Remember that first Christmas when Taylor just wanted to tear off all the wrapping paper and eat the bows?

Another big deal that happened during the eight month is that Taylor weaned to a bottle. Unfortunately we had to do it suddenly and not gradually, as I had planned. But luckily Taylor handled it heavenly and hasn’t made it difficult at all. I, on the other hand, didn’t deal with it as easily. Not only was the physical pain pretty harsh – cabbage leaves are amazing! – but emotionally it was extremely tough. Thanks, hormones. But now that I’m back out of the fog and have stopped eating pans of bars and buckets of brownies, I’m happy to have my body back and the freedom to stay out a few extra hours at ladies night and not have to worry about my baby starving.

So Taylor’s just on the bottle, plus she’s eating three square meals a day. And now she’s also eating a super snack after her nap, which consists of the dissolvable cereal puffs. Her favorite thing ever. Whenever she sees the yellow container she throws her arms in the air and whoops like a bird. And then she feeds them to herself. Her motor skills are getting a lot better, but it’s still pretty amusing to watch.

And not only do the puffs – or, poofs, as we call them – make my little princess happy, but they also delight my four legged daughter. Yep, Ruby has finally warmed up to Taylor. All it took was her throwing food on the floor, and now the Rubes will guard her with her life. Typical lab. And the other night, when Chris and I were sitting on the floor playing with Taylor, Ruby came downstairs and laid next to us. She even tolerated Taylor poking her in the face and grabbing her ears. And she was all, See, Kid. This is how much I’m forced to love you. I got down from the bed for this.

Yep, she's my daughter

Because who other than my offspring would appreciate the value of a coaster on a wood table. Tomorrow I shall show her how to organize her closet by color, style and sleeve-length.

New Year’s resolutions I hope to keep

I will not eat an entire pan of Special K bars in one sitting.

I will perfect a butternut squash bisque recipe.

I will not take all of my rage out on my lotion dispensers.

I will laugh when Taylor pulls racks of canned black beans off the shelf at the grocery store.

I will drink more water.

Famous Amys tree art

It all began two months ago. Let me set the scene: Asheville was being thwarted by high winds, I was upstairs brushing my teeth and Chris, Taylor and Ruby were downstairs playing, when all of the sudden – CRACK! – one of the gigantic 100-foot Poplars in our backyard snapped right in half, with the top 50-feet falling away from the house. Thank goodness. Because if the wind was coming from the other way, I would be blogging this from a hotel room. But, fate would have it, while we didn’t get our house smashed, the massive limb wedged itself into the appendages of it’s giant 100-feet tree friends. Making our backyard a catastrophe waiting to happen.

Enter my husband and his buddy, the Stihl, over-the-top, professional grade chainsaw he bought three years ago that had been collecting dust in the garage. After much trimming and deliberation he concocted a plan which involved throwing a rope around the threatening, top-half of the monster, weaving that rope around the other trees to prevent any house disasters, tying it to the back of the Envoy in the front yard and pulling it away from the other tree and down to the ground. And my job was to inch the truck forward while walkie-talkying back and forth with Chris in the back yard. And it would go something like this:

Chris: A little bit more.

Me driving.

Chris: Just a bit more.

Me driving a little bit more.

Chris: Just a little bit more.

SNAP!

Me holding my breath and praying that my house still had a back to it.

Chris: Stupid rope! Alright, ONE more try.

After two afternoons of tugging, a totally stuck gianormous tree branch and countless weird looks from our neighbors, we scrapped the plan and decided to wait a few weeks. until Ryan, Chris’s brother, came to town. And, what-do-you-know, those super handy Amys brothers managed to bring it down while everyone else was touring the Biltmore. Same plan, but with the extra horse power of Greg’s Suburban. But, it wasn’t over. A branch off the branch decided to get stuck in ANOTHER tree. A 40-foot branch, to be exact. I know what you must be thinking, that Amys family has some prehistoric trees in their backyard. Well, yes, we do. HUGE freaking trees that like to wedge their branches into each other and cause Chris to take Prilosec every morning.

So we take some time off from the branch of peril to open presents, and then, on Christmas day afternoon, Chris goes back after it. With Ruby secured on the outside porch, Taylor and I inside, Chris threw a rope around each side of the limb and proceeded to work the branch like a marionette doll, making it swing and dance in the holding tree. Which prompted Taylor and I to join Rubes on the porch for the performance, phone in hand and 911 on speed dial. And even though it refused to dislodge, it resulted in the neighbors across the creek coming out on their porch, bringing their styrofoam cooler and entertaining themselves in some Famous Amys Christmas cheer. They were all, Baby, you GOT to get out here and see this! And we didn’t disappoint. Instead of bringing the hanging menace down, Chris, myself and the Envoy-scheme managed to rock and relodge the branch to be horizontal to the ground.

And after the show we put on for the rest of the cul-de-sac, we once again let it sit and marinate for a moment. When we got back from Birmingham, Chris sprinted from the car to the backyard in hopes of a fallen tree. No such luck. After Tuesday’s high wind advisory and Chris calling home in two-hour intervals, the limb still didn’t budge. And even after using all of his pre-Outback Bowl adrenaline and cutting down the bottom half, the branch refused to come down. And here it sits:

I’ll be honest – It’s kinda growing on me. I mean, some cultures would worship it or deem it a fertility shrine. And maybe it’s just me, but ever since the tree has gone horizontal, Taylor has been sleeping through the night in 10-12 hour shifts. So it’s staying. Period. Done deal. And if we ever move and sell the house, we can have Ruby stomp some crop circles around the base and play up a paranormal presence.