Yet another moment where I’ve been extremely proud of my daughter

Taylor and I were fortunate enough to be able to join my friend, Kelley, and her two boys for a few days at the beach this week. Never one to pass up an opportunity for sun, sand and beers with limes in them, we packed up ourselves, three kids and an ungodly amount of stuff into her minivan and headed to the coast.

And after surviving the six hour drive to Wrightsville Beach, we unloaded, unpacked and planned our itinerary for the following days. You see, Kelley and I share the mentality that everything must be kept on a schedule, mostly revolving around wearing our kids out with one activity in the morning, letting them nap and then repeating them exhausting themselves in the afternoon. Which not only results in some well-sleeping kids, but plenty of time for their mothers to enjoy their nightly cocktails and awful reality shows without interruption.

So the first full day we were there, we obviously had to hit up the beach in the morning. And after slathering on the sunscreen and shoving all our gear in our beach bags, we pumped up our kiddos with stories of sand castles and seashells. And unfortunately, because I don’t trust myself with my camera around an ocean and billions of grains of sand, this is the best picture I snapped of my little beach bum before our adventure.

And while our morning on the shore of the Atlantic was indeed an adventure for me, it was more of a nightmare for Taylor. You see, after dumping all our stuff on the beach and making our initial run down to the waves, Miss T lost her footing and nose-dived into the surf just as a wave was coming up, resulting in her getting a face full of salt water and a swimsuit full of sand. She was pretty much scared to death, and the rest of the morning was spent with her slimy little body clutched to my chest while she kept repeating, All done, Mommy! All done, Mommy!

So after building a few sand castles at an appropriate distance from the water, all while watching little daredevil Josiah diving into the waves, we headed back to the house for lunch and naps. And because it was about a million degrees outside, Kelley and I decided to take the kids to an air conditioned activity in the afternoon. And that activity was Monkey Joes, a giant warehouse full of bouncy houses. Pretty much every kid's dream.

Well, every kid but mine. And even though they had a giant Disney Princess Castle, Taylor still refused, REFUSED, to partake in any of the bouncing. So we spent the whole time looking at the castle and riding a stationary, non-bouncy firetruck.

And I’m not saying that Taylor wasn’t having a good time on the trip. In fact, the following morning, when I pulled her warm snuggly body into bed with me and asked her what she wanted to do that day, she chirped back, See princess castle, Mom! But this time, instead of paying five-bucks, I just showed her the picture on my camera.

And that morning we did a familiar activity and took the kids to the park before the sun made the slides blistering hot, and Taylor rocked the jungle gym, going up and down the equipment with an enthusiasm normally accompanied by ice cream. And then we decided to keep the fun-meter rolling and took the kids back to the house and packed up to go to the beach again. But not the big beach, as our house was located right between the Atlantic and the Banks Channel. So we joined together with Kelley’s sister and kids and headed away from the ocean and set up camp on the waterway beach, which was basically like a sandy swimming pool with a long dock.

Of course I tried to drag my daughter into the calm water right away, and of course she squealed and wriggled away from it. So I put on her swimmies just in case she changed her mind, set her up on the beach with a bunch of sand toys, soaked my feet in the water and watched Kelley perform a multitude of dives and flips off the end of the dock.

And then, out of nowhere, Taylor stands up and announces, I jump to Kelley. And I stood up too and said, Huh? And she shoots back, I JUMP TO KELLEY! And starts marching down to the end of the dock on a mission, all while I trail after her going, Are you sure? Do you wanna jump to Momma? To which she says, NO! KELLEY!

And while I was following her to the landing, I was still in a bit of shock and totally expecting her to chicken-out at the last minute. Because even Josiah wouldn’t jump off the dock. And early that week I saw Josiah wrestle a sea gull on the beach and jump over waves in the ocean like David Hasselhoff. And if he was too scared to jump off the dock, no way would my timid, non-bouncy, surf-scared daughter want to take the plunge.

But she stomped up to the edge of the dock, peered over at Kelley treading water beneath her and JUMPED IN, completely submerging herself in the water and bobbing back to the surface with a giant smile on her face. Paddling her arms and legs while everyone else screamed, cheered and danced in her honor. And then I jumped in next to them and swam my little daredevil back to the shore, all while she squealed, I JUMP! I JUMP! I JUMP AGAIN!

And that moment, while pushing her back to land, I’m pretty sure was one of the proudest moments of my life. My little peanut! She never ceases to amaze me... And I am so honored to be her mother. Good job, sweetheart!

Conversations I’ve recently had with my daughter while driving

T: (Fake crying) Momma, my teeth hurt.
Me: Your teeth hurt?
T: No. My arm hurts.
Me: What? Why’s your arm hurt?
T: No, Mom. My leg hurts.
Me: Oh (real dramatically), your LEG hurts?
T: NO, Mom! (Even more dramatically) My other leg hurts.


T: MOMMA! TAKE IT! TAKE IT! TAKE IT! MOMMA!
Me: (Focusing on traffic and not looking back at her) Take WHAT? What’s going on? What’s happening?
T: Take it. TAKE! IT!
Me: (Reaching my arm back towards her carseat and having her wipe something on my hand.)
T: Take my booger, Momma.


T: Dora snack? Dora snack, Mom? DORA! SNACK!
Me: Sorry, kiddo. We’re about five minutes from home and then we’re eating dinner.
T: (Screaming and kicking)
Me: Not gonna happen, peanut. I’m putting my foot down.
T: I need a babysitter tonight, Mom.
Me: (Nodding, Yes)

Pool bunnies

Sorry for the lack of posts, bloggers, but the Famous Amys crew has transitioned from our nationwide wedding-tour into our summertime routine pretty comfortably. Meaning the majority of our time is being spent outside soaking up the sun, and not downloading pictures of Taylor’s cheeks to share with all of you. Please forgive me. I promise I will make up for it once the temperature drops.

A few months ago we joined the Country Club, which up until a few weeks ago just meant my husband would go missing for four-hour stretches at least twice a week. But now that summer is here and the pool is open, Taylor and I have been spending almost every afternoon at the Club. And even some mornings. Because you would not believe how good my little peanut sleeps after a few hours of treading water. And, in the process, Momma’s getting a fabulous tan. Win-win!

And because I don’t trust having any of my electronic belongings within a ten foot radius of the pool, I am for lack of cute pictures of T in her swimmies. But last week, we hosted Paige and Elliot at the pool one morning and Miss Elly-Bean showed up in the exact same swimsuit at Taylor. So I just had to dig out my camera and take a snapshot of the cuteness.

26 months old

Alright, so technically this post should be called, 26 months and one week old, but I was too busy trying to recover and regroup after our back-to-back wedding adventures to post the monthly milestones last week. Yes, the end of May and beginning of June was a bit of a traveling circus for us, but our calendar’s clear for the rest of the month so we can sit back and enjoy all of the action and cuteness that will be occupying our time this summer.

And something else that we will be spending time with the next few months is potty training. We’re getting there, folks. The froggy-potty is getting at least two uses a day, right when we wake up and right after naps, but we’re having a difficult time with her expressing when she needs to go during the day. We even made the big switch to pull-ups this past month, and Taylor is so in love with her pink, princess pull-ups that she now refuses to wear a regular diaper. And, y’all, if you could see her little booty in those pull-ups you would just die. It’s just fantastic. When we finally make the switch to big girl undies, they don’t stand a chance. My poor little girl has inherited her mother’s backside, so we talking endless wedgies once we ditch the training pants. Sorry, Peanut, but all the better for Momma to pinch those cute buns.

We’re still on the reward-system for business in the potty, and she is still loving the stickers. Only now we are all about princess stickers. Last month I introduced Taylor to Snow White, and it’s been Disney Princesses ever since. And I’m fine with that, because if I had to take another month of nonstop Dora and Boots I was gonna explode. So now we’re onto princesses, namely Snow White, Ariel from The Little Mermaid and Princess Jasmine from Aladdin. And each time she’s successful on the potty, she takes her princess stickers, puts them on her reward-board and points and names off all of her beloved characters with an enthusiasm that she never had for Dora. Looks like we might be having a Princess Birthday Party next year.

A definite life-milestone that happened this past month was Taylor being the flowergirl in Libba’s wedding. She has always had a special bond with my sister and Dirk, and to have her included in their special day was such an honor. And even though T didn’t really have a clue what was going on, except that for two days she was given an endless supply of candy-dots and was encouraged to throw flower petals, I know that when she’s older she will see pictures from that day, and she’ll know what an awesome thing it was to be able to share those precious moments with her Aunt Beeba. It definitely made my heart smile that she has such a special bond with her one and only aunt.

And then just as we started recouping from that amazing wedding, Chris and I jumped on a plane and took off for another. Before our trip to California, I could count on one hand the number of nights I had spent away from Taylor. I started to get nervous before we left, not because I was at all concerned about T’s well-being with her Grandma while we were gone, but because for the last two-plus years my entire life has been focused around my daughter. We are together all day, everyday. So I was wondering how easy it would be for me to turn off my mom-switch and be able to talk about things other than potty training and princesses for five days. And the minute Chris and I got on our plane Thursday morning, all anxiety went out the window, and for the next four days I spent all of my time soaking up the wonderfulness that is my husband. It was great for us to be just Chris and Brooke for a few days, but by Monday we were seriously missing our little girl. And on Tuesday morning, we plucked her out of her crib and spent a half hour snuggling and kissing her cheeks in our bed before Chris had to go to work and I had to start unpacking. It’s fun to have fun, but I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

Do you like seafood? See. Food.

I mentioned previously how we indulged in some tasty grub while on vacation last weekend. Yes, I’m STILL talking about our fabulous, child-free trip that Chris and I took to Northern California. So all readers who only care about looking at cute pictures of my daughter’s cheeks and thunder thighs can just click off this screen now. Because while Taylor was playing at home with Grandma for five days, eating Dora snacks and watching Princess movies, her Momma and Daddy were frolicking through movie-like landscapes on the west coast, dancing with friends, drinking hand-crafted wine and eating some seriously delicious local cuisine. And I wonder why I now have muffin-top while wearing my shorts. I obviously didn’t boogie hard enough.

So on Friday night, while visiting with Robert, Emily and all of our friends at the couple’s rehearsal fiesta, Chris and I realized that we were only about a half hour from the coast. For some reason we thought we were a lot further and would be unable to see the Pacific during our romantical holiday. But we were wrong. And the next morning we jumped in our rental, winded through the mountains and ended up on the infamous Highway 1.

It had been ten years since I had seen the Pacific ocean, and I had forgotten how powerful it is compared to the Atlantic and Gulf Coast, both of which I have frequented during the last few years. The waves were enormous. It made me want to drive to Folly Beach, laugh at the surfers there and snicker, YOU call THOSE waves?

And after soaking my feet, we kicked the sand off our soles and continued to drive down the coast until we saw a sign for lunch and realized how hungry we were.

And you must remember that up until about eight months ago I was convinced I was deathly allergic to shellfish. And even since getting the clear for my allergist, I’ve still been hesitant to enjoy any crustacean delicacies. Until last weekend, when I housed a half-dozen barbequed oysters.

Chris’s Are-You-Kidding-Me-How-Good-These-Are?! face:

Our lunch was caught right here:

And after tasting fresh shellfish in all their glory, I was pretty pumped to check out Fisherman’s Wharf while we were staying in downtown San Francisco Sunday night. We were recommended to check that area out by quite a few people, and it was fun to roam with the masses in the tourist hotspot.

And since we were there, of course I had to order the local crab plate at dinner. Melted. In. My. Mouth.

Next time I'm served bruschetta and it doesn't have crabmeat in it, I just might have to spit it out in my napkin. It's like flying first-class and then being stuck in coach between two fat people who are each holding hysterical, ugly babies. I ruined myself.

After dinner we strolled across the street and bought Taylor’s weight’s worth in salt-water taffy for a coming-home present. Of which she’s only had two pieces of up to this afternoon. Mmmmm... Candy.

And if you need to find me the remainder of this month, I’ll either be running, at the Y, or eating sprouts. Swimsuit season is here, Taylor and I are gonna be lounging at the pool all summer, and I workout way too hard to not rock a bikini this summer. So unless you think my daughter’s cheeks are sweet enough to constitute as a delicious dessert, consider this my last post on food for the next few months. But even though I won’t be physically enjoying the rich treats I enjoyed last weekend, I’ll be dreaming about them. Thank you, California.

Mastering the art of wine tasting

Leading up to our trip to Northern California last weekend, I was feeling pretty confident about my wine knowledge. I mean, come on, I’m a Blackwell for goodness sake. We don’t mess around with our vino. So on that first day when we drove from San Francisco into Napa, I got giddy watching the landscape change from skyscrapers to vineyards.

After eating lunch, Chris and I drove to our first winery right outside of town and were eager to wet our pallets and test our skills. And because there are about a billion different wineries in the Napa Valley, I decided that the Madonna Estate would be our first tasting. Because I love Madonna.

And after we rolled into the tasting room and made friends with the lady behind the bar, she suggested the more simple tasting. Maybe it was because I kept telling her how much I loved Madonna.

She poured the first tastes, and immediately Chris and I kicked them back and enjoyed the wine-goodness. I mean, at this point in our trip we had already been traveling for about 15 hours straight already and were in desperate need of a recharge. And after licking our glasses clean, the pourer laughed and said, Well, I was gonna ask you to smell it and pick up the peppery-notes. But that way works too.

And after we woofed down the next few tastes, we walked back to our car and realized how completely out of league we were. I can only describe it as if we were given two front row seats to the Superbowl, but were unaware of any of the players and also didn’t know the rules of the game. So, we got back to our B&B and studied the playbook.

And then the next morning, completely rested and refueled, we got our map and hit the road.

Our first stop, Arger-Martucci, was a tiny boutique-style vineyard that the B&B owners recommended. It was pretty informal, and the girl who waited on us was from Northern Illinois, so we were able to shoot straight with her from the start. We let the reds breathe, tested them for legs and took healthy sniffs. And then we had our first tastes and let the grape-goodness roll around our tongues so we could pick up all of the exotic aftertastes. I mean, I had no idea the depth of which these wines can taste. We smelled a cabernet that reminded us of jalapenos, and also tasted chardonnays that melted like butter in our mouths. It was fabulous. I’ll take a delicious wine tasting before noon any day of the week. And we felt pretty confident in our performance after we left with our preferred bottle of wine.

So then we jumped in our ride and took off down Highway 29 and stumbled upon a castle. Yep, a CASTLE. Kinda hard to miss. So of course we had to check it out, but after we realized it was a lengthy tour and drawn-out process to get to the vino, we skipped the tasting and just took in the scenery.

Our next stop was just off the infamous Silverado Trail, where the wineries were lined up right next to each other, all spouting intriguing, familiar names and lots and lots of grapes in their front yards. And just like the way we stumbled upon the Madonna Estate, I chose our next adventure based on the title: Chateau Montelena. Because anyplace with the word Chateau in it sounds like a good place to drink wine. And it just so happened that the winery we stumbled upon was the same one featured in an indie flick we had watched and were talking about during the trip, Bottleshock. Which, if you haven’t seen it, is a pretty good movie. It chronicles the story of the Chateau Montelena competing in a French wine competition in the late 1970s and essentially putting Napa Valley wine on the map.

And not only was it an entertaining movie, but the wine was the absolute best wine we had ever tasted. Just perfect.

And we weren’t the only ones that were bowing down before these particular barrels, as a group of people next to us, who were obviously high-rollers, continued to buy cases on cases of the delicious nectar on the spot. Which prompted the pourer to open some vintage, uber-expensive bottles of wine, and since we were close to and talking with these rich, wine lovers we got to scam a few glasses of a cabernet that made fireworks explode in our mouths. Yea for freeloading!

The obligatory spit cup... Yeah right!

And after all of that wonderfulness, we decided to stop while we were ahead and go to lunch, where I proceeded to squash my morning wine-buzz with a gigantic meatball sub. Oh, the food in that area was just as good as the wine. But I’ll have to save that for another post.