tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21175580623134454832024-03-13T14:23:38.613-07:00McMurrey with an E-YLauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.comBlogger56125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-84822807298412474652013-12-17T19:16:00.001-08:002013-12-17T19:16:36.065-08:00I'll try harder in 2014It's a perpetual challenge for me to come up with a fresh and exciting Christmas gift idea for my husband. He's the type of guy who 1.) doesn't need a lot of things and 2.) if he does need something, just buys it for himself and tells me a month later. It's one of the reasons I love him so very much, and also one of the things that drives me crazy. So this year, Babe, I've written you a little poem set to the tune of my favorite Christmas song. It goes without saying, but I feel like I should address it in a public forum. And a 1...2...3...4...<br />
<br />
<em>About my appearance I used to be prideful</em><br />
<em>Which makes me somewhat spiteful</em><br />
<em>For since now that I'm a Mom, you know</em><br />
<em>I've let it go let it go let it go.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>Oh it doesn't show signs of stopping,</em><br />
<em>So out of photos I'll keep on cropping.</em><br />
<em>Please keep that flash on low,</em><br />
<em>Because I've let it go let it go let it go.</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>When we finally kiss the kids goodnight </em><br />
<em>And they're tucked in bed so warm,</em><br />
<em>Instead of hugging you tight</em><br />
<em>I should go jogging in that storm .</em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>Oh I really wish that I were lying, </em><br />
<em>But my looks have done some good bye-ing.</em><br />
<em>I'm thankful you still love me so</em><br />
<em>Despite that I've let it go let it go let it go.</em><br />
<br />
Cheers to New Year's resolutions!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ul9IpxoVF-M/UrETe3Omu4I/AAAAAAAAAaQ/D-yIszXVWa0/s1600/Christmas+2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ul9IpxoVF-M/UrETe3Omu4I/AAAAAAAAAaQ/D-yIszXVWa0/s320/Christmas+2013.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
PS - I'm not terribly creative, but sometimes it's fun to look back.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mcmurreys.blogspot.com/2012/12/its-most-frightening-time-of-year.html" target="_blank">2012's Christmas post</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.mcmurreys.blogspot.com/2010/12/santa-i-have-baby.html" target="_blank">2010's Christmas post</a><br />
<br />
<br />Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-30633790742089569282013-12-12T19:12:00.002-08:002013-12-12T19:12:33.894-08:00The Last of the Nurse-hicans<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I remember explicitly, my thought
process. It was nine months ago - that day in March - when my extremely-large-almost-ten-pound-man-infant
latched perfectly at ten minutes of age…”How am I going to ever wean this one?”
It’s an interesting phenomenon. At first the mother thinks, “I can’t possibly
nurse this baby all day! I need to be doing other things! I can’t hold you all
day! All I want is my body back!” <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">THEN…in a few short months, when
that same baby can’t be cajoled onto the breast despite her best efforts, the
same mother thinks, “I’m not ready to be finished with this. You still need me.
You’re still a baby. I still NEED you to need ME.” (Abject despair. Muffled
cries).) What a juxtaposition, right? Forgive me. I just weaned my last baby. <br />
<br />
CORRECTION: I just weaned my last baby, except it was entirely his own idea. <br />
CORRECTION: My last baby just weaned himself.<br />
CORRECTION: My last baby just weaned himself without my consent. <br />
CLARFICATION: I am rendered useless. Inert. Done.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was warned, you see. I was
warned that the second child may not nurse to the magic twelve month mark – AKA
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the age that laughs in the face of all
potential ear infections</i>. I was warned that the second child has so many
more distractions than the first. Namely due to the fact that the mother no
longer has the luxury of sitting on the couch while watching BRAVO and nursing
for countless, consecutive, uninterrupted hours because the mother now has a
toddler to keep from their untimely, yet ever imminent death. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Essentially, this milestone
is just the first of many whereupon my child separates himself from me. Do I
want him to rely upon me forever? No, of course not. Was I prepared for my baby
(because that’s what he’ll always be) to start the severing process so soon?
No, of course not. Is this the face of a child ready to be a big boy? Oh my,
yes it is.</span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fzpJn1jj9Qg/Uqp7DINZIVI/AAAAAAAAAaA/SdH0_hLUx6w/s1600/0710285097001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fzpJn1jj9Qg/Uqp7DINZIVI/AAAAAAAAAaA/SdH0_hLUx6w/s320/0710285097001.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-47007695623234144992013-11-04T19:12:00.000-08:002013-11-04T19:12:18.649-08:00A Farewell to Naps<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once upon a time in Napland there
was a lovely little girl who took naps regularly in the afternoon. Sometimes
the naps lasted two hours and sometimes they lasted 45 minutes, but still
she took them. And they were glorious. And the people in the household rejoiced.
</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This same little girl who napped was a pleasure to be around in the evening,
and her parents did not count down the hours until it was bedtime. Evenings
were filled with leisurely dinners, stories, and bath time. The naps were held
in high regard by the household and the parents hoped they would never leave. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now we find ourselves brutally
ejected from Napland – never to return. It was a gradual departure,
nonetheless, we are gone, baby, gone. Honestly, I’m really surprised that my
lovely little girl doesn’t nap anymore. She was always good about going down
for them consistently and got quality rest. However, as I write this, I am
literally listening to her bang around in her room like Casper the Friendly Ghost.
I fully expect to go in there in thirty minutes and find she has nailed every
toy she owns to the ceiling. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is what it is. Our afternoons
are lessons in Managing Meltdowns 101, and I am the beleaguered instructor. At
first I was wildly irritated at the discharge from Napland, now I just adjust
bedtime up an hour or two…or three. A phase, a phase - one that I hope to say “farewell”
to promptly.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7tleFJ7VwQk/Unhht3rKerI/AAAAAAAAAZw/cUiHSm2rNvk/s1600/028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7tleFJ7VwQk/Unhht3rKerI/AAAAAAAAAZw/cUiHSm2rNvk/s320/028.JPG" width="238" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p>(This is just a small example of her goings on while she is supposed to be "napping".)</o:p></span></span></div>
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-38595906806902299692013-10-14T13:12:00.000-07:002013-10-14T13:12:03.648-07:00Ummmm...Sooooo<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m not going to flatter myself and
assume that anyone in the blog-o-sphere has noticed that I haven’t posted in seven
months. The funny thing is, I can’t really tell you what I’ve been doing
instead of blogging. Our beautiful son, Ford Marshall, was born on March 13. We
brought him home 20 hours later. Since then…umm...so…I feel like we’ve been busy,
but…it’s all basically a blur. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I can tell you in relative terms
what we have been doing a lot of in the past seven months. Since I think mostly
in fragments lately, I give you a poorly punctuated list.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Eating<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Adults – primarily
frozen meals - prepared by Dad while Mom nurses a fussy baby<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- accompanied with a lot of wine if it’s past
5:00 (4:30 some days if I’m being honest)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Toddler – primarily
macaroni & cheese with some type of frozen vegetable coupled with the
occasional PB&J, and a lot of popsicles<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Baby – breast milk,
formula, rice cereal, pureed vegetables <br />
& fruit, sometimes all at once, ad infinitum, rinse & repeat<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Television watching<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Adults – mostly
DVR’ed shows that we can’t watch while the Toddler is awake<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Toddler – has
(unfortunately) become all too familiar with the daily viewing schedules of
Disney Jr, Nick Jr, and Sprout<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Baby – is entirely
too busy watching the Toddler watching television to notice there is a
television in the room<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sleeping<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Adults – Have once
again begun accustomed to being woken up (almost) nightly by one of the
following:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level3 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Toddler – had a
massive sleep regression when the following came along:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 2in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level4 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Baby – if we’d all
just stay asleep would probably be just fine<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 2.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level5 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Dogs – roam the
house like Highlander trying to find a quiet spot, but never neglect to rattle
their loud collars/tags while doing so...thanks guys<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 0.5in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Conclusion<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Have the last seven
months been wonderful? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level3 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yes, most
definitely. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Would I want to
relive them? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level3 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hell no.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level3 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Are you kidding? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Are we finished
having babies?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level3 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hell yes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level3 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Again, are you
kidding?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I feel incredibly
blessed? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level3 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Beyond belief. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt 1in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Courier New";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">o<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Do I think I’ll blog
again in 2013? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt 1.5in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level3 lfo1; text-indent: -0.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Wingdings; mso-bidi-font-family: Wingdings; mso-fareast-font-family: Wingdings;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">§<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Jury’s out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4wmsaqiOJQg/UlxPuT9fNCI/AAAAAAAAAZc/dt7voUsPDeU/s1600/dedication.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4wmsaqiOJQg/UlxPuT9fNCI/AAAAAAAAAZc/dt7voUsPDeU/s320/dedication.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Our clan on one of our best days</div>
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-68742127534557362212013-03-12T12:58:00.006-07:002013-03-12T12:58:52.180-07:00Twas the night before the induction
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Twas the night before the induction,
when all through the house<br />
All the inhabitants were anxious, even the gosh darn mouse<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The nursing bras were hung by
the shower with care<br />
In hopes that the newborn would breastfeed with flair<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">The two year old was nestled all
snug in her bed<br />
While visions of new baby brother danced in her head<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">And daddy with his cocktail and
also a hospital map<br />
Had just settled down from doingallthethingsIaskedofhimbeforethisbabyisbornin12hoursforanap<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When out from my phone the alarm
rose such a clatter<br />
We sprang from the bed to see what was the matter<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Away to the hospital we flew
like a flash<br />
Tore open the L&D door and threw up my sash<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then what to my wondering eyes
should appear<br />
But a miniature Ben, in eight tiny pounds, right here<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">His eyes how they twinkled, his
dimples how merry<br />
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">He had arrived safely, to our
families we gave a whistle<br />
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><br />Dear Lord, I really hope it all
turns out this way<br />
Ready or not, tomorrow is our son’s birthday<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-55994504223080929672013-02-25T06:53:00.000-08:002013-02-25T06:53:11.325-08:00The longest nine months of my life<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Is it March yet? <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">During the summer, we were actively
trying to conceive. I found out I was pregnant at all of three days in.
Thankfully, unlike my first pregnancy, this time we’ve reached “full term” or
37 weeks. Bookended by those two facts, it feels like I’ve been pregnant my
entire life. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">People I haven’t seen in awhile
are like, “You’re still pregnant?” Sometimes it’s fun to mess with those people
and tell them I delivered two months ago and watch the horror crawl across
their faces. But mostly I just smile, say that I have three weeks until my due
date, and waddle away muttering obscenities. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Did I willingly sign up to be
pregnant again? Yes. Was I aware of the gestational period length of our
species? Yes. Was I prepared for the discomfort and inelegance of the last
month? Most definitely no. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">All manner of surprises have
been waiting for me this time around. Weekly pelvic exams! More blood tests!
More time for weight gain! Swelling! Yahoo! I’m beginning to think that delivering my first child at
35 weeks was a present, not the worst thing to ever happen to me. We’ve agreed
that this will be our last child, so assuming that everything goes smoothly, this
is the last time I’ll be pregnant. I try to remember this as I struggle for
breath after walking across the room. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Kudos to all women who have gone
the distance of a 40 week pregnancy. I never knew what an effort this last leg
was. Hopefully my next post will be about how I went into labor at 37.5 weeks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Thank you to my sister in law
for taking the only belly picture of this entire pregnancy. I know I’ll enjoy
looking at this at some point.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zu0RcaqKPyU/USt6aoVMTbI/AAAAAAAAAY4/qPUUlnvFNRQ/s1600/belly+pic.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zu0RcaqKPyU/USt6aoVMTbI/AAAAAAAAAY4/qPUUlnvFNRQ/s320/belly+pic.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-67793649473826631392013-02-13T07:27:00.003-08:002013-02-13T07:27:50.109-08:00Adventures in Potty Training<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Throughout Marryn’s short
lifetime, people have continually told me that she will “do ______ in her own
time”. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">First was in the NICU when
she wouldn’t eat. The neonatologists, nurses, speech therapists, pastors, parents,
strangers, janitors, etc. all told me that she would start eating in her own
time. The doctors described a “light bulb” that would eventually turn on. Sure
enough, at about a week old, the light bulb turned on, and she ate continuously
for a year. Come to think of it, she really hasn’t stopped yet. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Next came “sleep training”. Despite
the advice of the 200+ books I read on the subject, I nursed Marryn to sleep
for the first several months of her life. When I came to my senses, I remember worrying
about how I would transition to laying her down for the night while she was
still awake. I shouldn’t have bothered because somewhere in between the 8<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup>
and 9<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> month, she would quit nursing, sit up and gesture (for lack
of a better term) towards her bed. She’s been going to sleep on her own ever
since. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fast forward a few months. As we
approached Marryn’s first birthday, I worried about how I’d wean her. Was she
ready? Was I? Should I do parent led weaning or child led? Every time I thought
about it, I’d end up in tears. Frankly, I was about to let the dogs decide when
to close the Mommy kitchen, and then she just quit being interested in nursing
- all on her own. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I could give several more
examples of coming to a milestone on her own terms…when she began smiling,
saying Mama & Dada, crawling, walking/running/careening, and the list goes
on. We’ll be going along with the same behavior for months on end, and I begin
to wonder when something new will finally happen, and then it does - like
overnight. Dad calls it the “stair step”, and it’s a fitting description. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Why was I surprised then, when
two weeks ago (after trying for <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">SIX</b>
months) Marryn independently decided she would like to use the potty and put on
big girl panties? I was so happy I almost cried. I tried to not get too excited
about it. Maybe it was just a fluke. However, here we are, still going strong. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’s even successfully worn big girl panties
outside the house and used public restrooms – much to my delight and
simultaneous horror. Thank God for Lysol wipes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I’m not saying parenting is
easy, but sometimes you do luck out and things fall into place when they
should. I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that while I can’t force my
child into the next developmental step, I am becoming more comfortable with
waiting for her to reach it - all in her own time. </span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y_kQC0a9cL4/URuwpinbw0I/AAAAAAAAAYo/Lzq7tWn4ilM/s1600/potty.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-y_kQC0a9cL4/URuwpinbw0I/AAAAAAAAAYo/Lzq7tWn4ilM/s320/potty.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span> </div>
<div align="center">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><em>We've been doing a fair amount of car-pottying around here. When you gotta go, you gotta go.</em></span></div>
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-21108242954777429202013-01-30T19:50:00.002-08:002013-01-30T19:50:25.672-08:00Theoretically Speaking
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Many have asked whether Marryn
“gets it”. Does she understand that a baby is coming? The short answer is yes –
she does. She knows her baby brother will be on the outside of Mommy’s tummy
soon. She’s begun to ask when. “When will baby brother be here? When can I play
with him?” And more specific questions too; “What will baby brother eat? Where
will he sleep?” She’s very curious about him. We pray for him every night and
she pats my stomach. She’s even squeezed me around the middle a few times to
give him a hug. As it stands now, Marryn likes her hypothetical baby brother. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What my sweet girl doesn’t know is
how much her life is about to change because of him. We are going to try our
best to keep her world and routine as constant as possible. She loves her
routine, as do we, because it keeps us all happy and feeling secure. However,
we also realize that adding another human being into our family is bound to
cause a ripple or two…hundred. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">My first memory is of the night
my brother was born, when I was two and a half years old. I remember it being
really dark in the house when my parents left for the hospital, and my
grandmother came to stay with me. I remember going to the hospital the next day
to meet him, and looking into the nursery. What’s funny is that I don’t
remember how I felt at the time. However, when my parents reminisce about the
same events, they recall the process being emotionally difficult for me. There
was a lot of crying, whining, and one well placed spanking. I’m not sure if
they worried about my mental well being in light of my new sibling, but they shouldn’t
have. For my part, all I recollect is the basic information – a new baby
brother came into my life, and I have no memories without him. </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Marryn may like her baby brother alright now, but he also may be the cause of the biggest disturbance in her life to date. Try as we might, Ben and I can’t fully prepare Marryn (or ourselves, really) for his arrival. All we know for sure is that we will love him, as we love one another, and that’s the best we can do…in theory.</span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MUgcZaeY74U/UQnpYjq3B8I/AAAAAAAAAYY/mWNNxGws5sw/s1600/015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MUgcZaeY74U/UQnpYjq3B8I/AAAAAAAAAYY/mWNNxGws5sw/s320/015.JPG" width="242" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: Calibri;">"I</span>'m getting a what?"</div>
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-6059483230461728952013-01-16T12:20:00.001-08:002013-01-16T12:20:15.843-08:00Lauren's daughter speaks in third person<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lauren and her husband have
taught their daughter how to wash her hands, brush her teeth, and feed herself.
They have taught her how to run, jump, and play hide and seek. Lauren and her
husband have also taught their daughter how to say her name, which she does
repeat, continually. Only, mostly their daughter refers to herself in third
person. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Marryn doesn’t want to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Where’s Marryn’s drink?<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Marryn is being silly. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think I’m partly to blame. I
regularly say things like, “Mommy needs to rest.” “That is Mommy’s dinner.” “Mommy
will be right back.” Lord, Mommy is annoying herself with this manner of
speaking! Why did I start doing this? I think it began as an effort to simplify
my language in order to teach my baby who was who. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, surely Marryn is a more
sophisticated linguist, but because I’m the person she hears the most often,
and I have adopted this inane speech pattern, she has copied me. Bless Lauren’s
daughter’s heart. She didn’t have a chance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I said I was partly to blame.
The other part I blame on him.<br /><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.fastcodesign.com/multisite_files/codesign/imagecache/960/article_feature/1280-elmo-arms-open-3-2_0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://www.fastcodesign.com/multisite_files/codesign/imagecache/960/article_feature/1280-elmo-arms-open-3-2_0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><em>Bastard.<br /><o:p></o:p></em></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">What I have to remind myself is
that even though Marryn speaks in third person, it’s most likely a phase. Like
most idiosyncrasies from childhood - it’s cute as hell, and Lauren will be sad
when her daughter stops.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-13212615360296481962013-01-02T13:35:00.000-08:002013-01-02T13:35:51.343-08:00Too much?<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’re expecting a baby boy in
about ten weeks. We are all really excited about him, and now that we are moved
into the new house, we have finally gotten busy with preparing for his arrival.
Since he is the second child, we already have the vast majority of baby gear –
strollers, car seats, play pen, burp cloths, sheets, etc. Luckily, we
registered for gender neutral colored gear the first time around.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, one thing we are
missing this time around is baby boy clothes. I was under the impression that
Marryn wore way more yellow and green clothes than she actually did. When I
physically went through her old clothes, 98% of them screamed <em>I’m a lovely,
dainty female</em> in pink and purple polka dots. I think she had maybe one shirt
with a duck on it, and a couple of green sleepers. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I hate waste, and I love to
recycle, so I have to ask myself…how much pink is too much pink…for a boy…that
lives in Texas…in a rural area…who has a very masculine father…and
grandfathers…before it makes an impact? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">I don’t intend to dress him in
his sister’s old skirts in public, but if he runs around the house in some
pastel numbers that’s not going to affect his psyche, right? Will he really
know if his pajamas say <em>Night Night Princess</em>? Will he care if he hangs out in
a Jenny Jump Up versus a Johnny Jump Up? Won’t his pink pacifier do the same
job as a blue one? Truly, I think this all matters not. Want to know why?<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z8DKEEKb7s8/UOSmxt8A5CI/AAAAAAAAAX4/lOPwGf89W0w/s1600/Picture1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-z8DKEEKb7s8/UOSmxt8A5CI/AAAAAAAAAX4/lOPwGf89W0w/s320/Picture1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></b><br /></div>
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is my brother during the
2,765<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">th</span></sup> time I dressed him up. We are 2.5 years apart, the same
distance my children will be. There was a period in his life when his favorite
color was pink and he wanted to be a Solid Gold dancer when he grew up, all
because those were my preferences at the time. He was subjected to countless
dress up sessions (see above), make up applications, pretend mommy/baby play
times, and sometimes called his underwear “panties”. <o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Today he is one of the most
well-adjusted and compassionate men I’ve ever met. He once told Mom and I that
he would make a good husband because “knew about periods and stuff”. I’m not
sure if his wife would agree, but from the outside looking in, this has proven
to be true. I think that he benefitted from being raised with a big sister, and
maybe, just maybe, from literally walking in her shoes a time or two.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cV4ftq497go/UOSnpwXNtPI/AAAAAAAAAYE/Yj54NMIjaJk/s1600/Picture2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cV4ftq497go/UOSnpwXNtPI/AAAAAAAAAYE/Yj54NMIjaJk/s1600/Picture2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a; font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">As a side note, a few friends
with older boys have been amazing about lending us their son’s hand-me-downs.
Between those and his sister’s leftovers, our son will be well outfitted in
many shades of style. </span>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-21460061502650359972012-12-20T14:35:00.000-08:002012-12-20T14:35:47.061-08:00It's the most frightening time of the year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2kU8vf2w80g/UNOSCuZzwmI/AAAAAAAAAXk/jLXji8G7CdE/s1600/scary+santa+12-20-12.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2kU8vf2w80g/UNOSCuZzwmI/AAAAAAAAAXk/jLXji8G7CdE/s320/scary+santa+12-20-12.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><span style="font-size: large;">It's
the most frightening time of the year <br />
There'll be toddler fit throwing <br />
And shaking head “no” ing <br />
When Santa comes near <br />
It's the most frightening time of the year<br />
<br />
<!--Lyrics End-->There'll be cocktail party invitations for declining<br />
Crying and whining<br />
And complaining because there’s no snow <br />
There'll be scary Elf on the Shelf stories <br />
And tales of the glories of <br />
Drunken Christmases long, long ago (before we all had children)<br />
<br />
It's the scare-scariest season of all<br />
With some tushy beatings and clenched-teeth meetings <br />
And tantrums at the mall <br />
It's the scare-scariest season of all</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"></span></o:p></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;">
<em>PS - Don't feel too badly for M. She dried those tears up approximately 2.3 seconds after we got off Santa's lap. No severe emotional damage done.</em></span></div>
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-31001518679287209382012-12-13T13:52:00.001-08:002012-12-13T13:52:11.123-08:00Dog Vigilance
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: large;">When we first brought Marryn
home from the hospital, we were nervous to say the very least. We worried about
her eating, sleeping, eliminating, her safety, her comfort, the list went on
and on. We also worried about how our dogs would react to her. We were hyper
vigilant when they interacted with her, only allowing them to sniff her head
and blankets when we were holding her. We never EVER left them alone together,
even for a few seconds. Our dogs are sweet and lovable, and we didn’t think
they’d ever intentionally harm her. But they are animals, after all, and large
ones at that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: large;">That was then. Fast forward two
years to the present. A visitor to our home can regularly see Marryn riding Boz
like a horse, laying in ADS’s bed, kissing the dogs in the face, crawling
underneath them, and hiding under blankets together. I can’t tell you how many
times I’ve walked into our bedroom and seen both dogs in our bed with Marryn lying
on top of them. Boz and AD join Marryn for bath time (as observers, not
participants), play time, story time, and (most especially) meal time. They are
buds. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="color: white;"><span style="font-size: large;">When baby boy arrives in March
we will need to get back some of that vigilance. Boz & AD have been exposed
to one child, but I’m sure they have forgotten how tiny and helpless their baby
girl once was. I’m sure they’ve also forgotten how loud and smelly she used to
be, and how she frequently disturbed their intensive nap schedule. There will
be another period where we’ll need to keep them separated from the new baby
until everyone becomes accustomed to each other.<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;">I know that dogs are colorblind –
seeing the world in limited shades. However, I also know there is no limit to their unconditional love, and they are loyal as hell. I’m not as worried this time. Saddle up
pups. A new cowboy is coming.</span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwG0FKhCVDS19ajxD8Lbej64yK6VpSPy6fd4LRHH-MVB2JuvrCRgVmf7lYRiPpgo1WHIExitDCQyqpbo-FPcw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"><o:p>This video was made a year ago, but the activity repeats today.</o:p></span></span></div>
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-30465124182090646302012-12-10T12:11:00.001-08:002012-12-10T12:13:25.391-08:00One week<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hA5SFc4ikTk/UMZAMIYdt7I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/dSxOv8yaYkc/s1600/108+Oakbend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hA5SFc4ikTk/UMZAMIYdt7I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/dSxOv8yaYkc/s320/108+Oakbend.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Last week, we moved into a new house. It's located thirty miles west of our previous home, and outside of city limits. We are in a neighborhood, but, relatively speaking, we live in the country. It's been a fun process that's still ongoing. I took some time today to reflect on the last week.</span><br />
<span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Some things I've learned from
one week in the new house:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">1. Stairs are a child's
best friend. They are instant boredom beater.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">
2. Thirty minutes in a car goes by really quickly. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">3. You can’t underestimate the utility of an indoor utility room. And yes, I
know calling it a utility room sounds like 1954.<br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">4. You can't be embarassed to use directions like, "Take a left at the dead
oak tree." They are succinct and save time. That’s why they are called “directions”.<br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">5. Dogs will chase after deer even if they have no hope of catching them. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">6. The same dogs will forget they didn’t catch the deer the day prior, and will
continue to chase said deer.<br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">7. A toddler imitating a coyote howling is the funniest sound ever. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">8. It's dark outside city limits. Like really. Really. Dark. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">9. It's also quiet outside city limits. Like really. Really. Quiet. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">10. In both of the above statements, dark & quiet = awesome. <br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">11. You must master the one finger recognition wave while driving. It's the polite thing to do.<br />
<br />
</span><span style="color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">12. Get used to seeing a lot of stray animals. Some are actually homeless, and
deserve pity. Others are perfectly well taken care of - just out on an
adventure - and deserve to be envied.<br />
<br />
13. I prefer my husband with scruff on his face and longer hair. It just seems to
suit him better here. <br />
<br />
14. Home is where the heart is. For me, my heart
happens to be in the form of a loving husband, a precious child, and two sweet
hound dogs. Home is wherever I’m with them.</span></span>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-89398138398868922752012-11-08T19:09:00.001-08:002012-11-08T19:19:58.664-08:00The Toddler Addendum to the Open Door Policy<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ever since I’ve had some awareness about me, I’ve been a
relatively modest person. I didn’t walk around in the locker room in my
cheerleading sports bra any longer than just to change clothes. I didn’t live
in the “naked hall” in the Tri Delta house. I didn’t change in front of my
female roommates post college. I’ve given birth in front of Ben, and I still
shut the door to the bathroom.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">However, nothing breaks the modesty rules like having a
child. For me it began at the eight week OB appointment. You know the one I
mean – the appointment with <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">the apparatus</i>.
I saw that thing and figured that my body was no longer my own. How right I
was.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It makes sense really. First, your child lives in your body.
Then if you breastfeed, they practically live on it. Then they live attached to
it – by your leg, your arm, your waist, your brain, your heart. The adage, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">one hand, one heart</i> is actually way more
applicable to the mother child relationship than the husband wife one. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">So now, the girl who was never really all that comfortable
with being naked has become a mother who doesn’t think twice about it. I can’t
recall the last time I went to the restroom alone or didn’t have company in the
shower, and honestly, it’s ok. We’ll have plenty of time to address the
complexity of body image. The longer we can put that off, the better. For now, let’s
throw modesty out the window. I just hope no one’s peeking into that window.</span></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My newfound
laissez faire attitude regarding modesty doesn’t extend to the internet, so I
don’t have an appropriate picture of either of us that relates well to this
post. I’ll just post a funny naked picture of someone else’s baby instead.</span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dPLsio7Tq-w/UJxzy4rfJYI/AAAAAAAAAXA/ZPkT4c0CJuw/s1600/funny-baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dPLsio7Tq-w/UJxzy4rfJYI/AAAAAAAAAXA/ZPkT4c0CJuw/s320/funny-baby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></i><br />Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-54580370386161661022012-11-07T19:24:00.000-08:002012-11-07T19:24:50.075-08:00Sometimes She's A Little Scary<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We’ve been hit with a language bomb in the McMurrey household.
Our baby girl who a month ago used to spout out phrases like “Mommy read” and “Daddy
kiss”, has now graduated to a much more sophisticated manner of speaking worthy
of her toddlerhood. It seemed to happen overnight. Some of Marryn’s recent bon
mots have included the following:</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Daddy’s panties have flags on them.” Ben would want me to
explain here that she is referring to his <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">boxers</i>.
He does not, in fact, wear <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">panties</i>,
but that’s how M sees them.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Trust me Mommy. It goes here,” after I questioned her
puzzle solving capabilities. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“My medicine is purple. It’s sweet” Has anyone else had a
cough the entire month of October?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">"I’ll see you later,” as I dropped her off at school. It’s a
shame she has such trouble transitioning at school drop off. <em>Yeah right.</em></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-porc-aeW4Bo/UJsjlZ5MB_I/AAAAAAAAAWw/vOsH_rH459c/s1600/IMG_0415.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-porc-aeW4Bo/UJsjlZ5MB_I/AAAAAAAAAWw/vOsH_rH459c/s320/IMG_0415.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is her "get a load of this"expression.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Marryn has also apparently developed a sense of memory
recall more suited to an aged pachyderm. She remembers A LOT, especially the
things I’d rather she didn’t. Like when I say “Dangit” and “Heck”. (Granted these
are tame “curse” words, but it’s still jarring to hear them coming out of a two
year olds mouth.) We’ll go weeks without seeing someone, and she will bring
them up out of the blue, and talk about the last time we saw them. I will hide
the leftover Halloween candy, and like the annoying kid at the carnival who
wins all the games and makes the carnies mad, she finds the secret cabinet. She
knows that My Little Pony is on TV on the weekends instead of Dora The
Explorer. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sound like I’m bragging, but really I’m just amazed. When
did she get so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">with it</i>? What will she
say next? Is my child an evil genius? More importantly, will these recent
developments make her easier to potty train? Dangit, I hope to heck it’s so.</span></div>
Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-27269431173596724102011-08-24T14:35:00.000-07:002011-08-24T18:53:25.045-07:00Wistfully Weaning<div><div><div><div>Greetings blog-o-sphere. It's been too long. Alot has happened since my last post. Summer came and went. Strike that – I’d just <em>like</em> for summer to have gone already. Marryn is almost eleven months old and starting Weekday School next week. She crawls everywhere, pulls up on everything, and is just breaths away from walking. <em>Tear.</em> Where has my baby gone?
<br />
<br />Yes many things have happened, not the least of which is that Marryn is ready to be weaned. I have mixed emotions about it. If you'll remember, nursing wasn't the easiest thing for us. We struggled at first and sought out help. In some ways it seems as though we just got into our groove, and we’re already stopping? Yes…it's time. It’s really and truly time. She's distracted, impatient, and nursing just takes too long. In her way, she’s telling me she’s over it.
<br />
<br />Last week we dropped two feedings, and this week we will drop one more. At the end of the week we’ll just be nursing before bedtime which, again, she's not really all that interested in. I know the point of parenting is to eventually render ourselves useless, but it's a bittersweet pill to swallow so soon.
<br />
<br />So farewell my sweet little nursling. We’ll never need each other in this special way again. I will cherish our nursing time more than you'll ever know. I’ll miss your full, flushed cheeks, and you thrashing your head about before latching on. I'll miss your grunts of hungry happiness that always sounded like a piglet to me. I'll miss our quiet time just you and me. I'll miss being your sole source of comfort, even though I sometimes complained about it. I’m looking forward to the next step, my sweet little weanling.</div><div> </div><div align="center"><em>Is this the face of a girl ready to take on the world or what?</em></div><div> </div><div><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 266px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5644504970294601298" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ptwl-OCDKfQ/TlVPXVdWJlI/AAAAAAAAAVg/MTTUfuiihKY/s400/232323232%257Ffp43367_nu%253D323%253B_563_799_WSNRCG%253D355_649939324nu0mrj.jpg" /></div></div></div></div>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-60469264138507642562011-06-23T19:25:00.000-07:002011-06-23T19:39:40.123-07:00Drinking GamesYou’ve heard of Kings, Washers, Beer Pong, and Flip Cup haven’t you? Who amongst us hasn’t overindulged while playing one of these time-honored drinking games? Drinking games can turn a Friday night with neighbors into a rager. A Sunday into a Funday. My particular favorite used to be secret drinking games created on the fly known only to myself. For example, having a shot of my drink every time my Mom reminisced about my brother’s football career or finishing my drink every time my in-laws referenced their dog.<br /><br />Now that I’m a parent, well first of all, there’s a lot less drinking in our household. But if I were to play a drinking game it would undoubtedly be the one created by my husband this past week: The "Marryn Eats" Drinking Game. The rules are as follows:<br /><br />successful bite - one drink<br />food on floor - two drinks<br />food on you - three drinks<br />fart noise - two drinks<br />dog licks hands - two drinks<br />dog eats food - one drink<br />shake head "no" - two drinks<br />shriek - one drink<br />poop face - three drinks<br />eat high chair straps - two drinks<br />mad face - finish your drink<br /><br />Be warned – no matter what kind of time of day this game is played – you’re gonna get wasted.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dy9MsPSnFybobCDoNUtrHI12vSOuQP64TSqpFD2gseny-CHcDXPLHSwEjHH-ZkeTAiqaDBR8A37jtOgXSNtQA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-88248614349966637712011-06-11T08:22:00.000-07:002011-06-11T08:34:42.471-07:00TheatricalityIt began with a laugh. Marryn got water in her nose from her first swimming excursion, blew it out in a dramatic fashion, and we all laughed. “Ah HA,” said the eight month old brain. “I get a positive reaction when I do this. I think I’ll do it again. And I think I’ll do it again. And how about again in case you missed it? And again…”<br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>Fast forward to today and nary does an hour go by that we don’t see this. </div><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616985704883549842" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Itf4T-n6Fpg/TfOKvRAH9pI/AAAAAAAAAVE/o_0bqnmhn44/s400/DSC02192.JPG" /><br />Dubbed the <em>Mad Face</em>.<br /><br />She loves doing it. She knows we love to see it. So begins the theatricality. We’ve worked up a few routines incorporating the expression. In one scenario I pretend to be scared of the mad face and hide behind a napkin. This is hilarious to the eight month old brain. In another, I do the mad face back to her while shaking my finger and pretending to admonish the mad face. The eight month old brain finds this to be equally amusing.<br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616984250284719474" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pa8S6N9MUKQ/TfOJamMvPXI/AAAAAAAAAU0/ygGnxh8CxG0/s400/DSC02158.JPG" /><br />You’re welcome to stop by anytime to see the mad face. You won’t have to wait very long to see it.<br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5616983736122580290" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-37dFLcSlT-E/TfOI8qy7nUI/AAAAAAAAAUs/mcwlnEPH-Mk/s400/DSC02221.JPG" /></div><br /><br /><div>"What you talkin' 'bout Willis?"</div>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-85350418463334613882011-04-29T14:04:00.000-07:002011-04-29T14:04:00.528-07:00EasterThis is terrible. I didn’t take any pictures at church on my baby’s first Easter. It’s terrible, but it’s reasonable. Our power went out about midnight. It was <strong>still</strong> off Easter morning, and it was a large accomplishment just to get out the door to get to church. We didn’t even have time to go through our Easter baskets before we left. So, after we got home from church and <strong>STILL</strong> had no power, we opened our baskets on the back porch.<br /><br /><div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div>"Wow Daddy! Are those Blue Rays in your basket? So far I'm impressed with this Bunny fella."</div><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600372656203522338" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BoRtg4G-UMI/TbiFQj7SYSI/AAAAAAAAATc/OIBtGjvs_t8/s400/DSC01115.JPG" />"Oh well you're welcome, but you should probably direct your gratitude to the Easter Bunny."</div></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600373139058931458" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5qI2S6zV4is/TbiFsqs_NwI/AAAAAAAAATk/iaohdgTnMDQ/s400/DSC01109.JPG" /> "Now my turn. Oh yay! It's a...a...a...what is this?"<br /><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600373869617831874" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kPiZbFZg8nU/TbiGXMPzX8I/AAAAAAAAATs/o6jt-XFGaNA/s400/DSC01123.JPG" /></div>"A book? But um there's a hole in it. 'It's broken. Mine are broken.' Name that movie, Daddy."<br /><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600374416399920130" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_EBiIKs64IE/TbiG3BKz7AI/AAAAAAAAAT0/tnWg34vPb8E/s400/DSC01120.JPG" /> </div><br /><div>"Ooooooh. It's supposed to be that way. I get it now. This makes it easier to chew on anyway." </div><br /><div></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600375691634924834" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NOlmYXxyuIk/TbiIBPyh3SI/AAAAAAAAAUE/0QfkccmVAI4/s400/DSC01127.JPG" /> Happy Easter!<br /><br /><br /><p><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-52117383732778659622011-04-28T13:45:00.000-07:002011-04-28T13:45:00.908-07:00We sing, we dance, we chewAt seven months of age, Marryn has already completed a semester of college. Well, in a manner of speaking…relatively…ok honestly she’s in a baby music class at TCU and it’s the cutest darn thing you’ve ever seen.<br /><br />Back in January, on the recommendation of my friend, Jen Wright, I enrolled my three month old baby in a Music Together experiential class at TCU. It’s through the College of Continuing Education. “Really? A music class for babies?” I can hear the snarky comment coming, but it really has a made a difference in Marryn’s development, plus she has so much fun!<br /><br />Each week of the class I have noticed (as have other mommy classmates) Marryn interacting more, reaching for instruments and trying to “play” them, and vocalizing in new and different ways. Am I trying to turn her into a musical virtuoso through these classes? Mostly definitely no. They are a great way for her to interact with other children and experience basic music skills. We drum, we sing, we dance, we chew on things.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JaeAcfQ_-3M/TbiDH9lU7dI/AAAAAAAAATU/lMNdEBd5kHU/s1600/DSC01190.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600370309448658386" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JaeAcfQ_-3M/TbiDH9lU7dI/AAAAAAAAATU/lMNdEBd5kHU/s400/DSC01190.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9PFy_jw0l9Y/TbiCm9Xz6ZI/AAAAAAAAATM/1TWuTcuWR8w/s1600/DSC01164.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600369742456285586" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9PFy_jw0l9Y/TbiCm9Xz6ZI/AAAAAAAAATM/1TWuTcuWR8w/s400/DSC01164.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ehqm9p88_EQ/TbiB3fP7xkI/AAAAAAAAATE/xSQyyg6RAd4/s1600/DSC01175.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600368926916331074" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ehqm9p88_EQ/TbiB3fP7xkI/AAAAAAAAATE/xSQyyg6RAd4/s400/DSC01175.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YISkZTmU0SA/TbiBhSEajCI/AAAAAAAAAS8/IEN6AUKoBLw/s1600/DSC01209.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600368545421233186" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YISkZTmU0SA/TbiBhSEajCI/AAAAAAAAAS8/IEN6AUKoBLw/s400/DSC01209.JPG" /></a><br /><br />Thanks Mom for coming to music class so I could capture what is sure to be a champ maraca player in the making.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>We’ve already enrolled in the summer class, and are looking forward to making music together again!</div></div>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-42326543203465131832011-04-27T13:26:00.000-07:002011-04-27T13:33:10.317-07:00Dedication SundayOn Sunday, April 10, Marryn was dedicated at University Christian Church. <br /><div><br /><div><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Our denomination practices believer’s baptism, so dedicating is a way to include a baby in the church community. Essentially, the parents pledge to raise the child in a Christian home and the congregation pledges to support them in their efforts - all in a public forum.<br /><br />We were fortunate enough to have a large family presence in the congregation. </div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600363739363563314" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W24BMOdyv2U/Tbh9JiG-VzI/AAAAAAAAAS0/gXarCp2Jb38/s400/DSC00886.JPG" /> <br /><div></div><br /><div>My mother made Marryn’s elegant dedication gown - definitely an heirloom from here on. </div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600363321823074258" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vdNS8qnLIpw/Tbh8xOpkF9I/AAAAAAAAASs/mldff-wgdAc/s400/DSC00845.JPG" /><br /><br /><div>All went like clockwork. Marryn made her return to the church stage with grace and wonder, no crying. I on the other hand boo-hoo’ed like a baby. It’s that darn pipe organ! Every time I hear it the waterworks come on. </div><br /><div><br />All in all, it was a beautiful Sunday celebrating the beginning of Marryn’s relationship with the church.</div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5600362923181497954" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uey8ZtmIT1s/Tbh8aBmAXmI/AAAAAAAAASk/isMv7EwXFE8/s400/DSC00941.JPG" /></div></div>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-3937359629702005322011-03-22T14:39:00.000-07:002011-03-22T14:39:00.301-07:00Dr. Marryn and Mommy HydeParenthood changes a person in all sorts of positive ways. Children teach you patience, unconditional love, exceptional care, and deep devotion. My child has also taught me that she holds the keys to my very happiness and sanity - or lack thereof. When she is a happy girl, so am I. When she is cross - watch out. Essentially, I am her emotional puppet, and she can yank my strings at will.<br /><br />This holds particularly true for our sleeping schedule - or lack thereof. One of my favorite things to do is put her to bed. As I lay her down in her cozy bed, bundled in her soft pajamas, I gaze lovingly at my beautiful child. I sigh at her perfection as she drifts off to sleep. I dreamily waltz out the door, patting myself on the back for keeping her safe and sound for another blessed day. “I am really getting good at this”, I think to myself, as I turn out the lights.<br /><br />Then the clock strikes 2:00 am, and I hear the sound that makes a mother’s heart drop into her stomach.<br /><br />“Waaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh…..”<br /><br />I hurl off the covers, and throw my pillow across the bedroom as I vault out of bed, making sure to make enough noise to passively awake my husband. He doesn’t have to be awake for the duration of this nightmare, but I want to make damn well sure he knows I am getting up. I stalk down the hallway, and jerk open the door. “What do YOU want?” I know I sound like a kidnapper speaking through a voice-alteration device, and I’m glad because I am MAD at this situation. Gone are the lovey dovey feelings of three hours ago. I have been wronged by this tiny person who obviously has some kind of vendetta against me by disturbing my sleep in this manner. I lumber over to the crib expecting to see some kind of smirk of satisfaction on her face, and I ready myself to discipline this horrid child. I peak into the bed and see…what do I see?<br /><br />…my perfectly beautiful child, smiling and cooing, so grateful to see her mother in the middle of the night. Aaaaaand the flip switches back, we’re right back to where we were earlier.<br /><div></div><br /><div>This little gal is teaching me to be bi-polar. </div><div> </div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586651712983050434" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-z1LJ7dsXcmk/TYfGIjQuqMI/AAAAAAAAASc/gm-plRgdGmw/s400/24%2Bweeks%2B029.jpg" /><br /><div></div><br /><div align="center"><strong><em>"Who? Me?"</em></strong></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-75971258733820380732011-03-21T14:10:00.000-07:002011-03-21T14:13:13.523-07:00Uncle Brady & Aunt AbigailLast weekend, my brother and his fiancé were in town to celebrate their engagement with our family. What an amazingly fun weekend! I’m a little depressed it’s all over to tell the truth. The weekend started with a small cookout at Mom’s. We celebrated big time with 60+ family and friends on Saturday night at Joe T’s, and then ended on a casual note at lunch yesterday at Dad’s.<br /><br />I don’t think Marryn’s feet or hiney touched the ground the whole weekend as she was passed from relative to relative. My girl was a trooper for the most part, but melted down at night. We’re still feeling the effects of not having our routine in place for 72 hours, but it was well worth it.<br /><br />Brady & Abigail are Marryn’s only aunt and uncle, as well as her guardians, and it was important to celebrate this milestone. We are looking forward to celebrating their wedding in August!<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5586644099832922642" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xUSnTCJwoEo/TYe_NaESwhI/AAAAAAAAASU/d-1gOq-rNqc/s400/24%2Bweeks%2B070.jpg" />Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-15349796473106338672011-03-02T11:18:00.000-08:002011-03-03T07:44:45.691-08:00What a difference a year makesMarch 1, 2010 - the test read positive. After several embraces, a few happy tears, and many deep breaths later, we braced ourselves for parenthood. Never could we ever have fully prepared for what would come in the next year. We have experienced sheer joy, frightful panic, and the deepest love imaginable for our daughter. When I reflect on the past year, I see the miracle of life and the beginning of a new family. I can only wonder what the next year holds. If it’s as half as exciting as last year, I’ll need to fasten the seatbelt of my Jenny Jump Up.<br /> <img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5579879838227160082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t7Q3pHWsmn8/TW-3Jj7k3BI/AAAAAAAAASI/MLd-BVNCp3E/s400/20%2Bweeks%2B018.jpg" />Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2117558062313445483.post-82168690032556085522011-02-10T09:07:00.000-08:002011-02-10T09:14:13.591-08:00Schmice CerealMarryn just had her four month check up, and it went very well indeed. At 14 pounds, she’s in the 70th percentile of weight! We’re pretty proud of this stat since it’s up from the 5th percentile at her two month check up. As expected, she’s still a tall girl, coming in at 26.25 inches, or greater than the 95th percentile. Her bald head and pudgy chest are right at the 50th percentile. Developmentally, our girl is right on track!<br /><br />At nineteen weeks, Marryn hasn't started full on belly laughing yet. She's teetering on the edge of giggledom though, and it won't be long. About some things, I'm certain she'll find funny:<br /><br />-The camera. Here she is with Aunt Lisa.<br /><br /><div><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572110041281484370" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D9ndc4nTuPo/TVQcj2v4VlI/AAAAAAAAASA/Px1LTp7ZZ-g/s400/232323232%257Ffp43368_nu%253D323%253B_557_478_WSNRCG%253D3479453_4%253B326nu0mrj.jpg" /><br /><div>-A little gossip with girlfriends like Dylan Rose from down the street.<br /></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572109890720623874" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CypLLPx8hg0/TVQcbF3X7QI/AAAAAAAAAR4/WSRWvUfbeSE/s400/16%2BWeeks%2B010.jpg" /><br /><div>-Her toys - to be exact, this pink Sing A Ma Jig. Have you heard of these? Hilarious.<br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572109697790284738" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XYCwX0qEZCM/TVQcP3JMk8I/AAAAAAAAARw/XNG-1cam50g/s400/51QAlVglRnL__SL500_AA300_.jpg" /> -And the doozy...Marryn will laugh in the face of rice cereal, specifically when it's fed to her to prolong sleep. "Rice Cereal? Schmice Cereal. You cannot affect me," I picture her saying, chubby fists on tiny waist, head tossing, in defiance. (Or rather looking something like this...)<br /><br /><div><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5572109472774747218" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ijAaumv_oRg/TVQcCw5T9FI/AAAAAAAAARo/O9qx4qsv7qM/s400/DSC02055.JPG" /><br />We’ve experienced a handful of glorious occurrences of sleeping through the night, and I've been chasing it like a white rabbit ever since. Try as I might, I can't replicate it, and cereal does not induce it. Darn you, rice cereal, and your false promises! </div></div>Lauren Ford McMurreyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10164933791946382091noreply@blogger.com1