It’s been a while.  Here is the update that’s been on my to-do list for weeks now.

The Pea is 8 months old these days — no crawling, no teeth.  Yet.  She loves to sit and play and bang toys together and play with her BusyBox.  She’s quickly figuring out all of her toys — so much so that I think I need to buy her more so she has something to challenge her more.  Any suggestions would be welcome.

We love to read books and she likes to turn the pages and eat them.   She loves to tear up her magazine — she’s almost torn it entirely to shreds.  We call that doing her “paperwork.”  She’s content to hang out in her pack and play for 20 or 30 minutes on her own — we call that “office hours.”  She does that when Dad needs to work at the computer during the day.  Apparently, we’re grooming her for a career in a cubicle somewhere.  We dream big

Between Taylor’s and my schedule, we’re incredibly busy.  We never have more than one night a week that’s unscheduled (between work, rehearsals, and gigs), and often we don’t get that or it’s spent doing laundry at my parents’ house.  I think we’re going to start scheduling it in though — one night a week where we make dinner and eat it together, play with and read to the Pea, put her to bed and then actually hang out.  Maybe even (gasp) watch a movie.  And then, to be really crazy, we’re going to start scheduling a date night once a month wherein we go out and leave the baby at home.  Wild.  I’ll let you know if when it happens.

Let’s see.  What else.  Oh!  I’m taking the Pea to Austin to visit my sister next Thursday!  I’m really looking forward to hanging out with my sister and getting some good quality Aunt Sabrina time in for Miss Pea.  But I’m totally overwhelmed at the prospect of flying with her by myself.  Layovers, strollers, toy-throwing, what-must-be-an-18-pound-baby, diaper bag, fear of running out of diapers, solid-feeding in an airport, sitting-next-to-someone-that-hates-children fears.  I’m totally dressing her in her cutest outfit so she charms the pants off anyone that dare look at us crossways

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