Four months

An update on little Ella.
She weighs 14 1/2 pounds. That is just about 8 pounds less than you. And that is because you do not eat. Yesterday at a party, you had three pieces of rice. And 12 grapes.
This morning you had three bites of Cheerios and then cried for "MORE HAPPY!!! MORE HAPPY!"
HAPPY is actually a show called Yo Gabba Gabba! I didn't know crack/heroin could be administered in TV form, but I guess it is. Apparently, it's better than food.



But, back to Ella.
She is also tall. 25 inches.
She is taller and bigger than 75 percent of all 4-month-olds.
And thanks to you, she's on her way to getting hooked on the HAPPY.

Cranking out

Yesterday, you and Ella cried for an hour.
At the same time.
Because you both did not nap.
The only thing I could do was just sit there and imagine cuter times.

Like, awwwww, Ella out of the bath. Isn't that cute? How can that little thing cry so hard?



And, look, you at your new favorite park.

March Madness, and not in the basketball kind of way.

March has been kind of rough.

Ella stopped sleeping through the night for most of the month.

You are extra possessive and will not let anyone but me get you out of bed in the morning. And if the cereal isn't poured just right, well, then you won't eat it. And if Daddy pours your milk instead of me, you can forget about that cup touching your lips.

And will you look at my jeans? These are what we call "in-between jeans" because I refuse to wear maternity clothes anymore but my good jeans are not quite ready for me yet. I hate in-between jeans.

The combination of all this has left me pretty wiped out and frazzled. It must have been pretty obvious because Daddy let me go to the movies this week. ALL BY MYSELF. (Finally saw Juno.)

But my new mantra is: The new house. The new house. It will all get better. In the new house.

You're going to wear the Badgley Mischka and you're going to love it.

Today I started packing my closet.
There's six years worth of stuff in there and most of it I forgot I owned. Like, how I'm always looking for a nice, short-sleeved hoodie type thing? And I never have one? So I buy a cheap one at Target until I find the one I know I have somewhere?
Do you know how many short-sleeved hoodie type things I found today?
ALL OF THEM.
All the ones I've ever bought. They were sitting in a box, apparently specifically for just these sweaters. Only I forgot the box even existed. Because you came along and then your sister and all that turned my brain to survival mode, which means it blocks out things like what box is for what.
Anyway.
I also found a box of dresses. In it was the pink Badgley Mischka gown I wore to the Oscars. A dress I will probably never wear again. But instead of donating it or giving it away, I kept it.
I kept it for you and Ella. Not that this is extraordinary or anything, but it's the first time I've kept anything with the intention of passing it down. Like my first mom right of passage? So as the former writer of Passages, I felt it sort of my duty to mention it.

Being shy

I started getting Vogue magazine at home and you like looking at the pictures.
For fun, we imitate the models' poses.
This one is called: Being shy and fabulous with my shoulder up.



Thanks, Crissy, for capturing it.

Republican living

Beans.
I am finally getting us out of this place. Out of this two-bedroom condo with no backyard and not enough space for your books. In one month, you will not have to climb all those stairs to get to your front door. You will not have to wake up to the sounds of helicopters or prostitutes fighting outside your window.



Goodbye slanted sidewalks!
We are moving to the suburbs, or as your Daddy says, Republican living. And as much as I hate to say this, those GOPers know how to do it right.
You will have your own room. Not only that, but you will also have a yard with fruit trees and roses. And plenty of space to run around and be Beanslike.
We will even have a key to the neighborhood pool.
Next thing you know, there'll be a picture of Ronald Reagan above your bed.