Bootylicious.

By eight thirty this morning, I'd found Maxwell sitting on the kitchen counter shoveling in a plate of cookies. By eight thirty-five, I'd had to pull Max away from the counter five times and my arms were covered with hot, sticky, baby boy tears and my ears were ringing from the word "Cookie!". By nine am, I had to wipe down his baby hands vigorously because he'd decided that drawing designs in foamy window soap was amazingly fun. By nine-fifteen, I had to stop my little bear from hitting the dog with the broom. At nine-twenty, I watched him carry a full-sized mop onto the patio I was spring cleaning because he, too, wanted to join the cleaning party. By ten, I heard him run onto the porch, followed him out, and saw this:

A naked baby booty perched on top of two stacked chairs.

After this (hilarious) episode, followed by some serious corner time for smacking his mama (read: me) in the face with not one but two Lightning McQueen cars, we snuggled up on the couch, watched Curious George and ate frozen corn, cheese, and homemade bread. And all was good for three minutes... until I started to clean the kitchen chairs and Maxwell took a page from George's book and tried to climb to the very top of the kitchen table.

Needless to say, it's nap time.

InstaWalk.

Yep, I just created my very own Instagram inspired word. You do what you gotta do when you've got a blog, y'know?

A Few Favorites from the Photo Blog

Buffalo

Before and After: Anna (A How-To Post about Editing)

* Photo below is Before *

Week Ten: Personality

Chris and Michelle: Engagements

Week Eleven: Blue

My First SLR Complete with Rambles and Photos of Max

I got my first SLR when I was eighteen years old.

Back then, I guarded this little sucker with my life. I had no idea how to use it. A few days after we became acquainted (because cameras are kinda like people?), I accidentally twisted the lens off and I freaked out, screwed it back on, and cried because I thought I had broke the camera. Like I said: I had NO idea how to use my new SLR and part of me didn't want to figure things out (the camera was so, so big!). Sure, I knew that I could switch lenses, but I was still scared spitless when I figured out how to do it. I mean, what if something had fallen into the camera?!

I'm sure other people feel the same way the first time they twist off their kit lens but, y'know, it still makes for a funny story. This little silver baby was my pride and joy for five years and, shortly after I got married, Andrew bought me a refurbished Canon 40d. Y'know how, especially on blogs, you'll see people rave about how film photography is not just the best way but the only way to go in photography? Well! Until 2009, I was one of those people, religiously so. I was never going to switch to digital. Ever. Sure, I had little digital cameras that I beat to a pulp within ten months because I took so many photographs, but I wasn't going to use a DSLR. I mean, how pretentious did "DSLR" even sound? Why did digital SLRs get an extra letter? I was relentless when anyone asked me about the subject, but then I realized that I didn't want to keep buying film anymore.

And so I bought a camera. And then I bought another camera. And then, well, I bought a third DSLR. There are four SLR bodies in our home: The Film Camera. The Little Camera (40d). Andrew's Camera (7d). My Camera (5d Mark II). Now, I can see how that list could come off as a little glutinous (especially for the wife of a grad school student!), but the truth is, every professional photographer needs a backup and a really good backup at that. My 7d has a better on and off button than my 5d and, it could just be my copies and personal preferences, but the color on the 7d blows the color on the 5d out of the water. But! The 5d is full frame, which changes everything... even though I don't like the power switch. As for the 40d, it won't sell for much more than $450 and I love my 40d, much more than $450 worth. And so! We keep it, just like we keep the Film Camera we use once every five or six months. It's a back up to our backup and, like the Film Camera, is a reminder of how far I have come.

Anyway, I am rambling, but lately I have wanted to admit something. I few months ago, I received an email telling me that I basically had no knowledge of anything camera and photography related and that my artistic vision was weak, at best. Now, in all honestly, I believe the commenter was trying to help me become better, but they were trying to help me in the way they wanted to help me. Photography is subjective. Photographs is an art form. It's also my job. So, when I received the email, I was really hurt, then really mad. And then I got over it. Everyone has different tastes. Everyone has things they should work on. There are famous photographers that I, quite frankly, hate. I don't find their work inspiring or beautiful or really much of anything. There are also famous photographers who I basically see as pretentious hipsters whose originality is lost in everyone else's originality. There are famous photographers whose work make me cry (in a good way). There are unknown, inexperienced (read: bad) photographers who are bossy and think they know everything even though they don't yet know how to shoot in Manual. There are photographers who I follow on Twitter, on Facebook, and on blogs because, even though their work is different than mine, I wish I could live inside of their photographs. There are famous photographers whose work I don't love, but I watch their videos and read their posts because their business insights are absolutely brilliant. So, I'll say it again, photography is subjective. No photographer is going to please everyone, which is why it's good that there are a lot of photographers. There are a lot of people in the world, too.

In closing, I'm not going to lie. When I see that someone has decided that they're going to be a photographer without ever shooting anything or when I see someone say they will be opening their business as soon as they buy Photoshop or when I see someone say that they would be a good photographer if they owned a nice camera, I am the the first to roll my eyes. Please. If that's the route you're going to take, photography probably isn't going to be the best route for you to take, but mostly because photography is hard work. You can't just decide to be a photographer one morning and, two hours and $3000 later, be a photographer. Becoming a photographer is a process and I honestly did not feel comfortable calling myself a photographer until late last summer. I just didn't feel I was at that point yet unless I introduced the term "photographer" with a phrase like "laid-back" or "sort of" or "trying to be". Because that's what I was. I was trying to be. I am still trying to be. I will still be trying to be a photographer in seven years, which is one of the reasons I love this art form. I don't think I will ever arrive at success, in that my definition of success will always be changing. It's fun, though. It's a lot of work, but it is so worth it. I love the photographs I have of my family. I love the photographs I take for other people and I guess what I'm saying is that I wish that someone had told me seven years ago how hard photography was going to be, but how much more I was going to get out of it than what I was going to put in. So! If you're at that starting point and you're frustrated and you're tired and you don't understand why you can't take a photograph like so-and-so can, just know that it is worth every single hour you put in. It's worth all that sweat and comparison and money and criticism, too. It's worth it all.

A Photo.

This was my favorite photograph of me and Andrew for, like, a really long time.

This was taken a couple days before we got engaged and I just thought he was the best thing that had ever happened to anyone, anywhere. We'd known each other for five weeks and I felt like I had known him my whole life. He'd slipped into my messy little world the second he casually leaned against a table to start talking to me and, since that night, he became exponentially more important to me with every stolen look, uncontrollable smile, and...

And I was going to write something really gushy and ridiculous about how much I love my husband, but I just got mooned four times by a tiny little baby booty so I think I'll take care of that instead.

(Andrew totally took care of that booty instead of me. Love him.)

Big Baby.

Meet Max, right after he came out of the oven.

Like, so soon after that he hadn't even met his stitched-up Mama yet:

He was THREE weeks early and the biggest baby in the nursery.

Considering that I'm pregnant with his first sibling, I probably shouldn't be looking at these, but instead of getting scared, I can't help but just shake my head, laugh, and think "Well. I guess I just make big babies."

To see what I looked like the day before he was born, click here.

Breakfast of Champions.

When your day starts like this and your name is Maximillian, it's sure to be a winner.

I mean, Sea Spray in your hair, a powdered sugar donut, a Batman onesie (complete with a cape) and a Curious George cup full of water and ice? What else could a fiery twenty-one month old ask for?

You're right. A chocolate donut.

Don't worry, we've got that covered.

Our Sunday Afternoon Looked Like This.

Photos.

Just some windy Mama-and-Me photos snapped last week after a long, fun day.

Love my little bear.

Heart Rate

Little Baby C. has a heart rate of 172 and when I heard it this morning, I could not stop laughing.

I just love that little lamb and that s/he is more than happy to make his/her presence known. I'm lucky enough to feel my babies move really early and I have felt this baby at least once a day since I was about eight weeks along (such an awesome perk of a second pregnancy!). So, today, when the nurse tried to track Baby C. down with the doppler, I felt our little babe ball up on one side of my stomach and then I felt pretty giddy when a little heart started pounding as soon as the nurse reached that part of me.

I love feeling close like that, like I already know my baby and s/he knows me, too, even though I don't know when s/he'll be born or how much s/he'll weight or the basic personality s/he'll come with, except y'know, for the general feel I have about what s/he'll be like. I was dead on that Max was going to be a spunkilicious fireball of happiness and determination. This time, though, I get the feeling that we are in for a really sweet, really strong little soul. Regardless of personality, though, we're going to be good friends, this little child and I. Actually, all four (!!!) of us are going to be good friends. Can't wait for October!

And I think I'll buy a baby toy or pacifier or stack of onesies this weekend...

Baby Names. Baby Two.

This pregnancy, Andrew is pretty sure he doesn't want anyone to know the name of our babe until he or she is here. He also doesn't want anyone to know the gender of our babe after we find out in six weeks (wow!), but that one's going to be really hard for me to keep secret. Meaning, I probably won't even try because I am really bad at keeping secrets. They just come out! Especially when it concerns babies and Christmas, but babies especially.

Anyway, we started referring to Max as "Max" thirty seconds after his gender-revealing ultrasound, but I am kinda diggin' not referring to this baby as anything besides "the baby" and "little Baby C." right now. Which means I'm also kinda diggin' keeping the final name secret. We will see, though. Anyway, last week, I sat down on our little red couch, pulled out my phone, shredded several pieces of paper, chewed on my pen cap, and finally compiled our final baby name list... for our current fig-sized babe.

Lucky for me, Andrew's down with me sharing this preliminary list. Here are the results!

Boy Names:

Isaac Foster Chandler

Lincoln Joshua Chandler

William Rockwell Chandler (Rocky)

Noah Ambrose Chandler (Brody)

Samuel Clayton Chandler

Girl Names:

Isla Elaine Chandler

Callie Elisabeth Chandler

Madeline Claire Chandler

Gracelynn Elise Chandler

Violet Mae Chandler

We love them all! Honestly, talking about names around here has been the pits. With Maxwell, we'd been pushing around names since before we got married and I had always wanted a son named Maxwell. We actually didn't come up with Maxwell David until a week before we found out that Max was going to be a boy, but when we put it together, it just clicked perfectly. We'd been pretty set that we were going to name our first boy Forrest but that obviously didn't happen and, since Andrew's currently writing about the KKK and will probably publish material on his research, Forrest is off the table right now (Forrest was the last name of the man who started the organization). I am totally rambling, but with this babe, we pretty much started from scratch.

Now comes the hard part! Both of us would be so happy with any of these names that we're glad we have six more months to decide on what we'll use! Today, my favorite girl names are Callie and Isla, but I also love Violet, not to mention Madeline and Gracie. I mean, how cute would it be to have a Max and Maddie running around?! Boy wise, I love Link... and Ike... and Rocky, and oh! I would love a Sam. And Brody? Straight out of the movie my family was religiously raised on. I'd probably just call him Chief. (Andrew is a stick in the mud and says I can't tell his favorites.)

Ah! Maybe we will just have to have ten more children.

P.S. If you had a dog named Rocky or heard horrible rumors about an elementary school bully named Madeline or knew a nose-picker named Sam think or Link is too closely associated with a video game or that Violet is a pretentious name that should only be used for purple flowers, we really don't care, cause our baby will not be a dog or a video game character or a bully... though s/he will probably pick her nose on occasion, especially when s/he is little.

boy sweater here./girl dress here.

Max. Like Usual.

We have been hanging out in our jammies all week, mostly due to sickness but also due to raininess.

In other, non-related, non-pajama, non-health, non-rain news, I would personally like to speak to the person who created the word "Mine!". The word "Mine!" has overtaken my life and I am ready to call Webster's and sue whoever created such a horrible world, especially because "Mine!" is usually related to something that is, actually, "Mom's!".

I'd also really like to place a call with Huggies because they're diapers are way too easy for chubby, twenty-month hands to remove. Max bares his booty at least twice a day and is also entering into a naked stage. Homeboy hates wearing clothes, but loves taking them off.

BUT.

In cuter news, a few minutes ago, Max lifted up my shirt and said "Baby!". Then he said garbled sentences that strongly sounded like "E-u-a-oy?" and "E-u-a-gul?", meaning that my baby is a toddler genius (also that he IS listening when I ask him that question every other day).

Well. Except that, as soon as we finished talking, he lifted his own shirt, pointed to his belly and exclaimed, "BABY!"

Yeah... That's not gonna happen, bud.

Weekend.

This weekend, my husband and I worked a two-day, multi-cultural wedding.

Our little bear stayed with his grandparents, so when we weren't working, we did crazy things like sleep until ten on Saturday morning, ate green waffles, drank slushees without cleaning up any spills, and went to iHop at midnight (where I ate a second, non-green, waffle). It's been fun, but we are bursting at the seams to get this little guy back tonight:

I mean, wouldn't you feel the same?

Mama Stripes

Sorry for the lazy posting but, lately, I have been busy gettin' my Mama Stripes.

Maybe it's because I'm a young mother, but before recently, I never thought about the Mama Stripes that would come after the first ones. The Mama Stripes that came with pregnancy and childbirth and the first year. I gained a Mama Stripe when I said "yes" to bedrest for six or seven weeks. I gained a Mama Stripe when I said "yes" to an emergency c-section. I gained a Mama Stripe the first time I slapped butt paste all over Max's bright red booty. I gained a Mama Stripe the first time I clipped Max's tiny nails. I gained a Mama Stripe the first time I held Max while typing a thirty page paper. I gained a Mama Stripe the first time Max ate real food. I gained one the first time he crawled. The first time he kissed. The first time he walked. All of those milestones are all Mama Stripes.

But! Mama Stripes don't end after the first-year milestones so often discussed with women in their twenties. Mormon women have a rep for getting married pretty young, but of my friends, I only know one girl my age who has two children. True, I didn't grow up with many LDS girls, but the ones I did grow up with, if they're married, are either married with no children or married with one child. And most of the friends I've had during my life aren't married and probably aren't engaged, either. Meaning, if motherhood is brought up with most of my friends, we don't talk about much more than pregnancy and newborns or, y'know, the "you're crazy" remarks they like to tease me with. So! Since I never really talked about it, I am constantly amazed at how many Mama Stripes I haven't earned yet.

I mean, I have five or six poison control Mama Stripes under my belt. I have a hospitalization Mama Stripe, too! I have a Mama Stripe that came when I found Max pulling out Q-tips and sticking them in his ear. A Mama Stripe for drawing on walls. For tantrums in public! This week alone, I gained Mama Stripes for our first Mommy-and-Me road trip, for feeding buffalo carrots, for finding my child in an upstairs loft when he'd been sitting next to me in a downstairs bedroom forty-five seconds before, and for surviving (no, loving!) Max's first movie in the theater (complete with popcorn, Skittles, and Sprite).

And I'm not sure why, but the past few days I've just been so happy when I think about all the Mama Stripes I have coming for me. The Mama Stripes that involve two children. The Mama Stripes that involve first bike rides and first bubblegum and first family car and first house and first shared nursery and so many other stripes that I can't even think of any right now. And all I can hope is that each Mama Stripe comes with as much love for subsequent children as it does for the first. Because I want to get those Mama Stripes over and over again so that, when I'm old and wrinkly and half insane, I can look back at photographs and little stories I've written about our family along the way and think about that time thirty or forty or fifty years ago when I got a Mama Stripe from one of my seven (or three or six or eight) children and smile at the thought that I'm covered in hundreds of thousands of Mama Stripes just as lovely as the one I'm remembering.

So I guess I'm saying that, for me, there is nothing better than a Mama Stripe.

Water!

An hour ago, I went to wake Max up from his daily nap. I opened the door, heard a little squeal of delight, flipped on the light, and walked over to the crib as he picked up his sippee cup and laughed, "Water!! Water!!"

To which I replied: "Okay! We'll get you some water!"

By the time I finished making that promise, I reached his crib, looked down and noticed that something was... missing. Something white. Something important. In the .03 seconds that it took me to process this, Max splashed his hands down on the mattress and screamed "Water!! Water!!"

As in: "Look at me, Mommy! I'm playing in water!"

And he was. That baby bear of mine was playing in water of his own making.

------

P.S. If you'd like to read more about Invisible Children and the Stop Kony Movement, click here.

And here and here and here, too. Also here. Here too?

Oh! And here's the Invisble Children's response.

We are an article readin' fam.

Eleven Things. Family Edition.

I'm not usually one to step up on blogging bandwagons, but I've seen the Eleven Things posts all over the place and I get kinda jealous every time someone writes one. So! Today, I thought it would be fun to do an Eleven Things for every single member of our little family. Hooray!

Eleven Things About Me:

1. I love cowboy boots. I currently own black and brown cowboy boots, red cowboy boots, and gray cowboy boots with turquoise flour de lis on the front and the top. They are beautiful. In the past, I have also worn out white cowboy boots and normal brown ones.

2. I am a huge fan of color. Both of our apartments have been explosions of colors and I love that. A lot of our decorations do not even slightly match, but it's been really fun to incorporate tons of color in rented spaces. Sometimes I wish I were one of those girls who felt butterflies when they saw white walls with white furniture (dreamy, right?), but I like loud, colorful patterns and things that go together because they don't actually go together.

3. I am a sap and have to stop myself from crying at weddings while I'm shooting. Heck, sometimes I have to stop myself from crying at engagements and family sessions, too. I just love life and that everyone has their own life (hopefully) filled with people they adore. I think it's beautiful.

4. I was obsessed with the band Something Corporate when I was a teenager. Then, when the lead singer started Jack's Mannequin, I became equally obsessed with them and went to far too many of their concerts... so much that it was embarrassing. Also, I think I saw Mae (remember them?) three times in like a six month period. I was a concert girl through and through my first few years of college.

5. I keep my email open for most of the day because, when Andrew is at work, we keep a chat box open. I realize this is ridiculous, but I just kinda like him and talking to him.

6. I let Maxwell get grubby and go naked. I mean, bath time ain't for nothing, right? I let him run barefoot and I let him play in dirt and I let him climb on things and I let him party as much as he wants. I give him (washable) paint and let him get the paint all over the table. I let him draw with chalk on the walls. I let him sit in the sink while I do my makeup. I let him pour water on his drawings (mixed media, right?). I let him carry around my film camera. I let him watch movies when I'm tired. I let him chase the dog. I let him read books to himself. I let him play in our room if he wants. I let him sit at the table without a booster seat. I let him walk on walks instead of ride in a stroller. I let him sit in the back of the cart if I don't really trust the front of the cart. But! I do enforce nap time every single day, I enforce hugs, I enforce prayers, and I also make him eat his fruits and vegetables, even if he only gets them through juice. So! That counts for something!

7. I have the guiltiest conscience of anyone that ever was. Like, if I said something rude or was intentionally mean or embarrassed someone or said something uncalled for or simply made a light mistake when I was six or seven or eight years old, I would still remember exactly what happened and still feel bad and/or awkward about it whenever it came to mind. This aspect of my personality drives Andrew crazy and he is always telling me to let it go. Which I try to, it's just hard for me. Same with grudges.

8. Two weeks ago, I read eight books in about thirty hours. Namely: Catherine Called Birdy, Number the Stars, The Bronze Bow, one of the Ruby Olivers, The Tale of Desperaux, The View from Saturday, and Divergent... followed up with some re-reading of the Hunger Games. Yes, I go book crazy while pregnant.

9. I do not think that I am pretty, but I really like my hair when it is long and I also like that I have small feet and small fingers.

10. I have never understood the Bachelor. Which is why, this season, I decided to participate. Sometimes pregnancy hormones make you do crazy things... like watch the Bachelor. And you guys! I don't get it! Ben is boring and not cute (the hair!) and kind of rude and not interested in anyone besides Courtney! How do the women have feelings for him? Do they have feelings for him? Do they cry at elimination because it's embarrassing? Maybe most importantly, do all three of them really sleep with him on the overnight dates?!?! And, also, why could all the women be so mean to Courtney at the Women Tell All this week? I mean, she was definitely a brat to all of them, but they were saying, on the show, before they saw her camera confessions, that they wanted to squish her like a black widow. Isn't that mean, too? Also, just saying, if I were single, I would never date a man who wrote a song about wet dreams, especially if he made a music video for said song. Just... gross, even though I think it was supposed to be funny.

11. I make a mean chocolate chip cookie... also peanut butter bars.

Eleven Things About Andrew:

1. Andrew is one of the most activist-minded people I have ever known. He is always talking politics, emailing politicians, signing petitions and signing pledges. (This is one he signed up for this morning.) Honestly, I won't be surprised if he ends up working in politics or human rights or a non-profit for most of his life. The man has a lot of opinions.

2. Andrew has a blue scooter named Prudence that he loves with all of his heart, scratches and all. When we were engaged, he came over to my apartment one night with dried blood all over his shirt and newly-formed scabs all over one of his arms. He acted like nothing was wrong and was completely oblivious when I asked him what happened. Turns out he had gotten in a scooter wreck five or six hours earlier but hadn't wanted to tell me because he didn't want me to ban him from the scooter. Which I didn't, but I started getting really annoying reminding him that he had to wear his helmet at all times. Andrew hates helmets.

3. Andrew loves babies. He LOVES babies. But not just human babies. He loves baby pandas and baby cheetahs and baby skunks and baby polar bears, too. Honestly, I receive at least three links a week linking to cute photographs of baby animals with Andrew gushing along about how, this time, he has discovered the cutest baby animal in existence (see: example). Because of this, it wasn't very hard to convince him to buy Napoleon and, now that Naples is full size, Andrew gets mad at him a lot quicker if he's trimmed with short hair and looks, y'know, like a dog. If he has his long curly dog-fro going and looks more like a puppy, Andrew thinks of him as a baby and is nicer to him. Ha!

4. Andrew is currently working on his Masters in History at the University of Arkansas. He's studying historical occurrences of intolerance and tolerance and, more specifically, writing his thesis on the Ku Klux Klan. Yep! That's the KKK and there are dozens of books about them all over our apartment right now.

5. Andrew is a music fiend. He mostly loves old music but loves some of the most obscure, unrelated current bands. He loves Rocky Votolato, Cee Lo Green, Motion City Soundtrack, Sigur Ros, and the Zac Brown Band. See? Those bands have nothing in common, but mostly he's been listening to The Beatles since he was fourteen. Speaking of, we own so many Beatles biographies it's ridiculous... and that's not counting all the magazines, figurines, movies, and coloring books (yes! coloring books!) we own that are Beatles-centric. He loves John Lennon.

6. Annnnd since I brought up music, Andrew played the piano, drums, and bass growing up, not to mention a whole bunch of percussion instruments I could never identify. He was in the drum line, a marching band, a jazz band, and two or three different garage bands in high school. He wanted to go into some kind of musical profession really badly growing up but wanted to go on a mission for our church more, so a mission it was! He likes to tell me, though, that if he hadn't gone on a mission and had tried out a music career instead, he would have found me anyways (meaning this: my husband believes in soulmates which works cause I'd say he's mine).

7. Since we're LDS and living in the South, many of our friends and family members are staunch conservatives, but Andrew is pretty liberal. Only he told me the other day that "liberal" is a negative term and he prefers to be coined a "progressive". So! Back to the fact that many of Andrew's friends and family members are extremely conservative. I'll often walk in on him typing up a storm on his iPad to respond to "inappropriate and discriminative Facebook statuses", only to watch him delete the comment ten minutes later because he has decided he doesn't want to ruffle anyone's feathers over Facebook.

8. Andrew kissed me for the first time either during or right after the movie Say Anything (I think right after?). During the movie, when Lloyd brushes the glass out of Diane's path, Andrew turned to me and said, "I would brush the glass away from you so you wouldn't have to walk around it." Anyway, ever since that movie viewing, whenever we walk past glass, Andrew stops, says, "Let me get that glass out of your way.", sweeps it away from my feet and then keeps walking.

9. Andrew is the best Daddy. Maxwell's whole body lights up when Andrew enters the room and, more often than not, when Andrew puts Max to bed at night, I end up going into the room thirty minutes later to wake Andrew up because he's fallen asleep putting Max to sleep. I love the way he plays with Max. It's just so sweet and genuine and there's so much love between them that it makes me and my pregnant belly teary-eyed just thinking about the two of them.

10. Andrew wants to live all over. He wants to keep living in the South. He'd like to live in the deeper South. He would like to move back to Colorado (where he grew up). He would like to move to Washington DC. He would love to move back to Texas (where he went on his mission). He would love to live abroad. And, most of all, he would love to move to Alaska.

11. Not that I'm creepily possessive, but Andrew is my man through and through. He's one of those partners who really and truly does whatever he thinks is best for you and supports you with everything he has. I'm not lying or exaggerating or bragging when I say that Andrew is the better half of the two of us. He is kinder than me, more thoughtful than I am, and he is just extremely supportive, even when we're flat broke and not having an easy go at things. Meaning this: I got lucky.

Eleven Things About Maxwell:

1. Maxwell LOVES the Lion King. He carries around a stuffed lion with him all the time and, when he's tired, comes up to me and screams "Kiiiiing! Kiiiiing! Kiiiiing!". I always swore my children wouldn't watch television much in their early days (if ever) but, being pregnant, I give in more often than not. Meaning that, as I'm typing this, Max is playing on the floor, staring at the flat screen with his mouth wide open.

2. Max's favorite place in the world is the library. Maybe library-lovin' is a hereditary quality? We usually go to the library at least once a week and Maxwell thinks he owns the place. He plays with the puzzles, runs around the books, and either squeals with glee or furrows his brow in concentration the whole time. It is absolutely adorable... until it's time to leave. Things turn ugly really fast when I start packing us up to check out the books and head out the door.

3. Maxwell is a Daddy's Boy through and through. This is a fairly recent conversion, but lately Max says "Where's Daddy?" and "I want Daddy!" and "Daaaaaddy?!?!" half the day. Yesterday, he carried around a photograph of Andrew all morning and even ate lunch with it sitting next to his plate. He LOVES his Daddy.

4. If given a choice, Maxwell would live outside. We keep the door to our porch open all day and, more often than not, it's easiest to find him on the porch painting with water or drawing with sidewalk chalk. When we spend afternoons at the park, he cries when we leave. When we play in the yard area outside our apartment building, he makes a beeline for the forest. When it rains, he stands and stares. Basically, he would love to be a wild child raised by wild animals.

5. Speaking of animals, Napoleon is both Maxwell's best friend and mortal enemy. They fight and play all day long. We never had indoor dogs growing up, so I've never seen anything quite like their relationship. If Max cries during his nap, Napoleon will sit outside Max's door until I either pick up Napoleon or pick up Max. They are both ridiculous.

6. When Max was born, his eyes were dark blue and his hair was light brown, blonde, and red. Now, his eyes are straight up blue and his hair is blonde, but a lot darker than the white-blonde his hair was for the first year of his life (after his initial hair fell out, of course). I'm excited to see what color his eyes and hair are ten years from now because part of me thinks they'll change dramatically and the other part of me things (and hopes) he'll be a blondie with blue eyes for his whole life.

7. Max loves to watch home videos of himself, particularly home video compilations that are set to music. He laughs the whole time he watches them and then will want to watch them over and over again.

8. Maxwell loves to help! This morning, I was cleaning out the trash can with Lysol (such a lovely task!) and he attached himself to my legs until I gave him a paper towel, fake sprayed cleaning solution into the trash can, and let him go to town scrubbing the inside of the trash can until he realized scrubbing a trash can was really boring and left me to play on the porch instead.

9. Max is currently going through a "I threw it on the ground!" phase. He throws everything on the ground (also off the balcony). Food! Toys! Blankets! Books! Pillows! Off Brand Rice Krispies he found in the closet! Frames! Clothes! Bath Toys! Everything he can reach! I don't even put our vacuum away anymore.

10. Maxwell loves sleep but, like his Mama, fights it like no other. He fights naps and fights bedtime, too. It's like he thinks he is missing out on a party even though all he's missing out on during nap time is being annoyed by me working or following me around while I clean. It's pretty funny, actually, because he sometimes gets so "How could you?!" when we scoop him up for bedtime or nap time, as if we have have just betrayed him and the entire universe to boot.

11. Not that I'm biased, but Maxwell is the happiest, sweetest, cutest, smelliest, and funniest little person who has ever lived.

P.S. This post took FOREVER.

Basically Just Two Photographs

Not gonna lie, I kinda miss having this blog blended with my photo blog.

So! Humor me by looking at this photograph taken on Saturday:

This is from a commercial shoot for Something Vintage, a local business that specializes in (gorgeous!) broach-and-button bouquets. I found Sara (the owner) at a bridal fair in January and basically hunted her down afterwards to let me take these photographs. And oh! This shoot was ridiculously perfect... I mean, how often do you have a white horse casually walk by you for photographs like this:

Can't wait to share the rest!

White Horse

This mornin', Max met his first horse and a white one at that!

He was so proud of himself. I love seeing him love new things... even though he's high tailed it the past few weeks and become a bonafide Daddy's boy. These two are best friends and I love how sweet/crazy/funny/ridiculous they are together.

Three Years Fly By Fast

Tomorrow marks three years since Andrew accidentally asked me to marry him.

He asked again later with a ring and a the first few words of a little speech before I cut him off by jumping up and down, pulling the ring out of the box, and kissing him all over his face. But! I count this as our engagement anniversary just the same. I kinda like him.