That’s right.  It’s official.  Millie-Moo is Amelia’s nickname. 

 

 I don’t know why.  I think someone (one of my sisters) called her ‘Melia or Millie her first week and it stuck.  I added the moo just because.  So now at 4 months and 4 days, she’s our Millie-Moo.

Here’s her latest stats:
13.2 lbs
24 inches
“average”….which just means she’s in the 50th percentile for everything.

She’s rolling over.  The first time she did it was at the beach a couple of weeks ago.  She was on her tummy, popped up that head like a little turtle, and flop!  She was on her back!

Prior to and since then she has been actively trying to roll from back to front, usually accomplishing it three-quarters of the way and then she gets stuck and flops back over exhausted. 

Well, yesterday she finally met her goal and went all the way over from back to front and then front to back.  She is now no longer a baby who stays in one place.  Today she hung out at Mimi’s and rolled from one side of the room to the other, except, Deanne said, she wouldn’t roll back once she reached the wall. 

Well, why should she?  She’s the Millie-Moo and that’s what she can do.

I like to think I’m an expert on chicken.  Cooking and consuming it, that is.

You see, chicken and I have a special relationship.  About this time last year my uterus was just starting to pre-heat something super good and super sweet that became our third little princess, Amelia Hope.

But before I knew she was who she is and back when I had just found out we were going for “third time’s the charm” and I lived in a fantasy world where my third and final pregnancy was going to be all bliss and happy memories, I started to get, you know, nauseous.

It’s such an understatement for 12 weeks of pure misery.  And during that time, do you know what my favorite thing was?

That’s right.  Chicken.  See how we’ve come full circle?

For the longest time all I could eat was chicken.  Poor Joshua asked if we were ever going to have red meat again.  I told him to take himself to lunch at Burger King and leave me alone.  But in the interest of all things economical and easy, I did learn a few things during my chicken binge.  Specifically, that my family will eat chicken in any state out of any dish.  And now that I am finally emerging from my sleep-deprived-return-to-work existence of the past month, I have begun cooking again.  In moderation.

Hence, this post.  The other night (last Monday to be exact) I took the chicken that had been percolating in my crock pot all day and turned it into meals for the whole week.  Below is a photo journal of all we had…..and obviously, I’ve been reading Pioneer Woman recipes and am totally playing copycat.  I’m not sure what’s better: her food ideas or her comments.

You know the best thing about Mother’s Day? The gifts kids make for you at school. God bless preschool teachers in May.

I’m sure that most are assuming this post will be about the Daddy of all my sweet princesses.

There are so many wonderful things spring ushers in. Little league, daffodils, flip-flops….and the annual swapping of the clothes. You know what I’m talking about. Those days when you decide you can endure the possibility of a morning in the high 30’s without your favorite cable knit sweater. Unfortunately, spring is a reluctant arrival. Like a sleep-deprived mother who can’t decide what the baby should wear for her first portrait, spring changes her mind often. One day will be beautiful 70 degree weather and the neighborhood yards teem with new bags of potting soil and young children in short sleeves. The next it’s 50 and rainy and your 4 year old is crying because she can’t wear her new capris. Or maybe it’s not that spring can’t decide when to stay, but that winter isn’t ready to leave. So, how do you get rid of a guest who has overstayed it’s welcome? Subtle cues of course. And that’s where the clothing swap comes in. Remember Field of Dreams? “If you build it, they will come.” Well, if you wear it, spring will come. Right?