a weekend at the cabin

we spent the past weekend up the hill at a friends cabin. it was both scott and liza's first time staying at a cabin, and their first time in camp nelson! it was a great weekend; full of cards, sewing, walks, and giggles from a cute little babe. i ate five square meals, in a row AND with two hands. the wonder of grandparents! i didn't capture a picture of the moment, but i achieved a lifelong dream and ate an entire fried egg for the first time. they have always looked so delicious to me, and i've wanted so badly for so long to like them. however every time i took a bite my dreams shattered and it tasted, well, disgusting. but not this time! i'll admit it was not the absolute tastiest, but it was the best it had ever tasted so i ran with it. and now, some pictures!

i ordered some fabric so that i could sew over the weekend but it didn't come in time. but just as well, i can make leggings another time! but this...

...i couldn't miss those giggles. the crazy eyes, maybe. the giggles, no. 

the $15 yard sale steal. thanks, mom!

liza's first offroading!

at the end of our walk wee met the sweetest burrows. they were all about having their picture taken.

i can't wait to see how little vacations like this grow and change over the years. my favorite part about this one was liza's need to be snuggled up on me to sleep. i know that will eventually leave and she won't need my familiarity in an unknown place, so i soaked it up in all it's deliciousness. i mean. seriously. this girl.

be still my heart. i love you, elizabeth james.

a crying baby

word on the street is, naps are bad. at least this seems to be how my six month old feels. she screams {and i mean scream, not cry} at the top of her lungs whenever it comes time for this event. it's not just in the crib; it's in mama's bed too, or while being rocked, and in her swing, or with mama IN the crib. most days i just park it with her in the rocker, and hope that the crying will last a little shorter than the day before. my patience has grown to astronomical levels, while my heart has broken a thousand times over at the little pout her lips make. 

for some reason today seemed to be extra trying, and on the verge of tears myself i kept thinking, "i can't wait til you like to sleep. and can you be a genius baby that talks at seven months so you can tell me what's wrong?". but then it hit me: someday she's not going to be crying, she's going to be able to tell me exactly what i'm doing wrong, and then elaborate on it. she's not going to love seeing my face so much that she wants to stay awake instead of sleep. she's going to be running off to friends' houses and coming home to tell me how cool her friend's mom is, while asking me what on earth i'm wearing and letting me know how i could make it better. suddenly i was thankful for her inability to talk, i was warmed at the thought of her loving my presence so much she can't miss it for a second. and then, i gave in to the crying. she's growing so fast. i'm only going to be the coolest person for so long. and she's only a baby for an even shorter time. some days the fact that she doesn't want to nap make it feel like i'm failing. thankfully it's those days she decides to look me in the eyes and smile with hers. somehow once she does it i can't remember what her cry sounds like. 

we're not failing, mamas. just ask your baby.

real talk.

this is what my kitchen look like at the moment. and most likely for the next handful of moments as well. 

i love reading blogs. seeing how other people express themselves fascinates me; in words, clothes, food, crafts, design, etc. however i often find myself thinking "they eat like kings and queens every.single.night!" or "this woman must not own yoga pants, or perhaps she only uses them in the 'yoga' sense". but i don't think gourmet, from scratch is on the menu every night, and i'm positive every woman on earth wears yoga pants without yoga-ing in them. not that the world would ever know, and not that there is a problem in that. i realize that i have posted multiple pictures of my perfectly fluffed couches and pristine kitchen. after all, who wants to see pictures of dirty kitchens like above? but here's the deal:

my kitchen is full of dishes 90% of the time. and not because i cook every night, but because i cook every three nights and they simply sit there between the appearances of chef sophie. 

and that's the truth.

and just for laughs...

yes, this really truly happened this morning. the jacket was also on and i had to wiggle out to go pop the trunk. happy monday!