I’ve been meaning to share a few of the sweet pics that our lovely photographer friend Christy took a while back. (Christy also took Crosby’s newborn photos, a whopping 4.5 months ago. Can you believe?! Excuse me while I go weep in the corner.) We had planned this little shoot a month or so before the holidays so we could get a photo to use for our first ever family Christmas card.
Here are my thoughts on Christmas cards, if you’d like to hear them. I’ve always thought they were kind of silly. In this day and age of Facebook and Instagram and iPhones and blogs (hey!), I feel like there are ample opportunities to see pictures of your friends and family at any time, if you so choose. So I used to think, really what’s the point of sending people a picture of yourself that you’ll probably post to social media anyways? I don’t know, is that Grinchy of me? Maybe. But the point is that I certainly never intended on sending one. But then, I had a kid… and I changed my mind. Probably because I’ll take any opportunity to show him off, is the honest truth. So I get it now, I totally understand why people send out Christmas cards. I am one of those people now. Hello my name is Shawnna, and I’m a Christmas card sender-outer. I even thought of a theme for us to follow every year – choosing a Christmas song lyric and taking a photo inspired by it. #cheesymccheeserson Who knows how long we’ll keep up that tradition, but so far we’ve done it every year since Crosby was born.
So does sending out a Christmas card make me a hypocrite? Yes, yes it does. But you know, it’s whatever. Parenthood makes you feel and do strange things. In facto, there are loads of other things I do now that I swore I wouldn’t when I became a parent. Like speaking to Crosby in a baby voice (sometimes I do try talking to him in my normal voice, but it makes me feel like an asshole)…. or using my saliva to clean something off his face (convenient. effective. efficient.) …. and smelling his butt when we’re in public to see if he pooped (sometimes the difference between a fart and a poop can be catastrophic).
Well that got weird quickly.
Our holiday photos! Was the point of this blog post. Off you go.
And here is our actual Christmas card… if you care to scroll just an inch further…
“Everyone! Come see how cute my baby is!”, said the Christmas card convert.
Now I’m curious, what things did you swear you’d never do as a parent? Or am I the only hypocrite around these parts….?
I was “prepared” for a good many things when Casey knocked me up. Sickness, soreness, getting fat growing a beautiful human being inside me. I figured I’d crave certain things and detest others, get a little hormonal (yup), and in general feel like a pretty big weirdo for a while, etc. etc. What I was not prepared for, however, is the insomnia. Well, not yet anyway. I obviously know that this tiny sleep dictator I’m growing in my belly will be calling all the shots when he/she makes an appearance in a few months. But I guess I just had it in my mind that in anticipation of those sleepless nights, I’d try to rack up as many bedtime points as possible now. And that’s so not the case. Because I totally gots the insomnias. As a person who really really loves her sleep, this little side affect has sucked balls.
The intial pass out is no problemo. Typically, you can find me in bed by approximately 9/10pm. This human hosting business is exhausting work so I’m usually a winner at falling asleep in about three minutes flat. But 2am rolls around and it seems the baby and I are all, heyyyyy time to get up, where’s the party at? At which point my brain goes into total overdrive and I started thinking about ALL the things. You know, like… what did I wear on Friday? Because my memory is shot these days and I have approximately 3 things that still fit and the last thing I want to do is wear the same thing on Monday that I wore on Friday. And… if I had to pick one kind of cheese to live off of for the rest of my life, what would it be? Assuming I’m not pregnant in this scenario of course because soft cheese is a hard contender. And… where did I put that one necklace that I bought at that one store that one time? And… I wonder if Casey is awake and maybe I should nudge him a bit to see if he is awake and feels like have a mid-night chat?….Nope, definitely not awake.
Oh, I get the big questions going through my head too. Like how in the h. am I going to birth this kid and then raise it to be happy and healthy and DEAR DIARY what are we going to name it!? But for the most part, my insomnia is enabled by the really stoopid questions. Which is just so not worth it. I’m pretty jealous of my dogs right now, one of which who is curled up between my knees and the other one who has so generously taken up residence on half of my new body pillow. And no, they are not the problem. They’ve been total bed hogs forever and it’s never really bothered me. Much.
I guess the only upside to this insomnia – except the fact that I get to answer ridiculous questions to myself – is that I have time to blog? About insomnia. Yayyyyy.
In other news, mi mama is currently sleeping (hopefully more successfully than I am) in our guest room and I’m dying with joy having her here. We’ve been having the best weekend ever talking about babies and bellies and Thai iced tea. Because yum. When she wakes up, I intend to ask her to stay in Portland until the baby arrives… and then maybe for the next 18 years after that. In fact, maybe I’ll start whispering it to her through the heat grates – sleep hypnosis-style. That wouldn’t be scary at all.