Gracie

Fruit Pizza

Crust:

Ingredients: 1/2 cup butter, 1 cup sugar, 1 egg, 1/4 cup milk, 1/2 tsp vanilla, 2 3/4 cups flour, 2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp salt

Blend butter and sugar with mixer, add in egg, milk, and vanilla. Combine flour, baking powder and salt and add in gradually. Mix until dough forms a ball. Press out into desired shape and bake at 375 for 10-20 minutes based on cookie's thickness. 

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Frosting:

Ingredients: 1 8oz block of cream cheese (reduced fat is fine), 1 tbsp fresh lemon juice, 1/4 cup powdered sugar

Mix together and spread on cooled crust. 

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 Fruit:

Top with desired fruit either in pretty, arranged fashion or using the dump method that we went with. Refrigerate and serve the same day.

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Allow zany preschooler to help "clean up."

Our Gracie Girl, One Month Old

I guess it also could be said that our fussy girl lives in the Moby. Unless her daddy's home. Then she likes to lay in the space between his leg and the chair. And sometimes she'll give us both a break and hang out in the swing. That is, until a certain little brother tries to climb in with her. Then it's back to the Moby or the chair. 

  The one place she is really happy though, is in the bath. The house is quiet. The sink is full. And she is content. It's bliss. At least until we pull her out :)

Our girl is also taking one pumped bottle before bed, fights the swaddle, loves Soothie paci's, and is wearing size 1 diapers and 0-3 month clothing. Some of her pet names include "Gracie Belle" "Peaches" and "Little girl," and she always, always, ALWAYS finds a way to spit up on her momma, NOT her daddy. Jer says she sounds like a peacock when she cries-it's true-she does. And the boys constantly ask me why she's always crying-it's true-she is. She's also yet to greet a day without a bow. Bottom line, we love, love, love her and are so grateful for our sweet girl. 

She is the apple of three little men and her daddy's  eye and a daily reminder to her momma of the Father's gifts.

She's our Gracie Girl and she's one month old.

I Guess You Could Say...

...that these days, orange is sorta his thing.

Art Imitating Life

Life, Happening

Today marks four weeks since our little Gracie Belle joined our family. It's still so surreal to think that just a few weeks ago, none of us knew who the little one growing in my belly was and now, it's hard to imagine what life was like before her. As was the case with Judah, there's just something so sweet about having a baby in the house. She is constantly the center of attention and her cries are almost always immediately met with comforting shushes and little hands ready with her paci, so much that turn-taking is usually required during our days. That is, when I can actually get them out of her swing : )

What our girl has brought in sweetness though, she's also brought in sass. While I wish I could say that the last few weeks have been nothing but a baby-moon, the reality is that it's been pretty rough waters. A bad case of reflux has left our sweets fussy-fussy during the day and up most of the night. Thankfully, our dear pediatrician took my cries for help seriously and sent us for a Upper GI Scan to rule out some more serious stuff and and to try and diagnose her reflux. As of this last Monday, she's now taking Zantac and already we've seen such a huge difference. Like, three hour stretches at night, difference. While that may not seem like much, it beats the 45 minute stints she was doing. 

The strange thing about her reflux, however, is that it has absolutely not affected her weight in any way. In fact, she's our biggest baby! At our last weight check on Monday, Grace tipped the scales at 10 lb in a brand new disposable diaper. Both the nurse and I did a double take. She was up 28 oz. from her previous appointment 12 days prior. So  while the past few weeks have been a little hairy, I am VERY thankful that our girl is healthy and growing. 

And let me just say that I cannot get enough of her cheeks, her deliciously round belly, or how she's starting to look like her daddy! Okay, the bows are pretty fun too...

As for life with the Ju since little sis's arrival, well, it's been a little interesting. For starters, this boy wants nothing to do with momma. Only daddy. In fact, when he broke his arm, he wouldn't even come to me. Rather, he cried louder when I tried to take him {compound that with a case of the Baby Blues and I was done for}. Quite the curve ball, I might say. I expected resentment towards the baby but not towards the baby-momma. Also not expected, just how grown up he looks all of the sudden or how big and white his booty looks when I change his diaper.

As for the big boys, I'll just leave you with this last little funny. I must confess that the thought of nursing in front of the B&A made me a little uncertain. While I absolutely and wholeheartedly agree that nursing is natural and should be in no way be made out to be shameful, I also didn't want to give a 37 minute dissertation on the physics of nursing ever time I sat down to feed the baby. I also didn't think it appropriate for them to be  spouting off the anatomical names of a woman's body at the ripe ol' age of four. So I kept things casual and general. As in, "Mommy what is baby Grace eating from?" and I would say, "My chest. Mammals drink milk from their mommas." And then we would move on. Really other than a few of those conversations, the boys haven't had much else to ask or say about it. That is until tonight when Ben so kindly pointed out to me, that both of my "feeders" were out. Between that and pointing out to me while I was pregnant that, "the baby not only made my tummy big but my bottom big too," I'd say he's quite the astute little boy. Ah, life with littles!

Sweet and Sour

 A little sweet, tastes a whole lot sweeter...

...after a little sour.

 

You Know You're Mountain Folk When...

...hiking trails are a closer drive than a Target.

...Bull Snakes come to your back door...

...and your main squeeze knows exactly how to relocate said visitor...post haste.

...and this is what the day's end brings for your toddler: cowboy boots, a muscle shirt, a farmer's tan, and a face so dirty, only a mother could love it.