Pam and I were lucky enough to visit (aka rush to California in the middle of the night) Santa Cruz last week. I've decided that cooking and cleaning and watching kids is super duper awesome when you have lots of friends around. I'm once again reminded that communal living is the best way to live. I made way too much granola, set the fire alarm off several times, forgot my cell phone charger, suffered through a few hours of buffering Downton Abbey, learned the best way to eat ice cream (mixed with whole milk yogurt and granola), experienced the Bargain Barn, went on an hour and a half "they live somewhere around here" jog, read not very much of Christian's dissertation, and even slipped in a dinner with Shelley and Steve. It was a great week. We were sad to go. Jake was glad I came home.
Da is underplaying what bad shape she was in, and when Pam and I walked into her hospital room two Saturdays ago, I realized that. Apparently the fact that she was texting me all through her ordeal made me somehow believe that she was kind of ok despite the fact that she had two blood transfusions and shifting slightly in bed was crazy painful and was on very heavy duty meds. This woman is pretty tough AND she was still the best conversationalist with us and everyone who came over.
Christian didn't make an appearance in my pictures, but he's pretty great, as you all know. He can get the kids bathed and ready for bed in no time flat, and if he's around, the kids won't have anything to do with the rest of us.
Why do we want to have babies again?
Oh yeah. There's this:
(perfect, miracle baby, who Christian dubs cuter than any other babies-- loving her baby train)
And this:
(Maria, whose face is a thousand words)
And this:
(Enzo making the best baby train and toys for Eliza
.jpg)
-2.jpg)
