5 Months!

Vogue.

My First Meal

First attempt at rice cereal. She was much more interested in the spoon than the meal.

Chick-fil-Awkward

Lola and I went to Chick-fil-A for lunch today. The drive-thru was literally wrapped around the building, so we parked and ate-in. (I like the Chargrilled Chicken Sandwich; she likes to watch me eat it.) As I wandered around the completely packed restaurant (tray and stroller in tow) looking for a table, a woman who was sitting at a four-top with her 2 children offered me the seat next to her. At her table. It was a little strange - sitting down with a complete stranger, and her family, no less . . . but there were no other tables. And I was really hungry. So I sat.

But then the awkwardness began. Did this woman want to engage in conversation with me? Or was I just supposed to eat quietly in my corner of the table. She ended up asking me a few questions, and some polite banter occurred. But it was hard to tell where the lines of our newfound relationship really were. Did I offer to get her a refill when I went back for my own? Did I give her a ketchup packet when she needed an extra? I would, of course, do these things for anyone that I was actually at lunch with (on purpose, I mean). But wouldn't necessarily do them for the folks at the table next to me.

In the end, she got me a refill and I kept an eye on her kids. Next time I'll just wait out the drive-thru line.

Race for Hope

This weekend, Husband, Lola, and I (as well as a several folks from the orthopaedic program - residents, wives, attendings, nurses, and office staff) participated in a 5K race to raise money for sarcoma research. It was particularly meaningful for us because we lost a close family friend to sarcoma this summer. It was about 100 degrees outside, but Lola still managed to sleep for about 2 miles.

A timely matter

The power went out the other night, which means the clocks had to be reset the next morning. I'm not sure why, but I have this weird compulsion that all the clocks in a particular room have to be set to exactly the same time. I don't so much care from room to room, but when I'm sitting in one place, all the clocks in my sight need to be set the same. It weirds me out if it is 3:12 on the microwave and 3:13 on the oven. Who is right? Who is running behind? Or ahead?

Who, Me?

Enough is enough

I've told enough poop stories on this blog for now - so I will not regale you with the absolute disaster that occurred somewhere along the South Carolina/Georgia border and necessitated a stop at Dad's Pit Stop, a rinse in the bathroom sink, and a complete change of clothes.

Perusing the aisles of Dad's Pit Stop, I had to find something that could cover the poop-soaked carseat so that I could continue our journey to Commerce, GA (we were meeting my parents and siblings for lunch). As you can imagine, the selection was limited. In my haste, I grabbed the only thing in this poor-excuse-for-a-retail-establishment that would suit our needs - a t-shirt. I borrowed a pair of scissors and cut out holes for the car seat straps and made (in my opinion) one kick-ass last-minute version of the piddle pad (yes, I know, I'll buy it this week).

All that to tell you this: It was only when I got home and was pulling the affected wash out of the dryer (which, by the way, included the t-shirt, the carseat, her clothes, her lovey, her toy, my shirt, the nursing cover, and 2 burp-cloths) that I realized the only t-shirt they sold at Dad's Pit Stop read "I'm a lil' redneck", with the word "redneck" colored by the confederate flag design. Bestill my liberal heart.