Two kinds.

At my work there are two kinds of kiddos. Those who come and go, and I joyfully accept the fact that I will never see them again in a professional setting. And those who decide that the ICU is simply a much more lively place when they decide to occupy it. The catch? They stay away until I think about them and absentmindedly  verbalize to a fellow comrade "ya know, so-and-so hasn't been here in a while, I wonder how they are?" Bam. They show up and let me know loud and clear how they are. 

~

We took a Trek to the land of the grandparents.

Let me explain.

I wake up at 9 AM with Lovely. We hang out. We lounge. We are lazy all day. Then I transform into my real life alter ego of a motorcycle riding, leather-wearing, high adrenaline pediatric ICU night shift nurse. 7PM-7AM.

In all truth, that night I may not have ridden the motorcycle due to my aversion to riding in cold weather. And it may have been a slower paced night where the adrenaline may not have been pumpin' quite so high. No matter.

Head home and get myself and my baby's cute butt in the car and out of town. Two and a half hours out of town. As much as you may not believe in zombies, I promise you, there was one out on the US highways last Friday between the hours of 10AM and 1PM. Yikes.

But at least we got these cute pictures.  

 That's just how we roll.

Imma Bee

For whatever reason, my child has decided that she would like to hang out in the 90th percentile for height and weight. It's not like all the cool kids are doing it - I always thought it was much more avant garde to spend my oh-so-valuable time as an infant chillin' in the 10th - so I don't know where she got the mindset to be huge. Doesn't matter. What matters is that she isn't really going to fit into her hand-me-down Halloween costumes when that holiday rolls around so we had to do some premature glam shots last month.

{Imma Bee, Imma Bee, Imma be rockin' like this.}

 {Showin' off those teeth like its something to do}

 

Also - 
I've started running again. I love it.
I highly recommend it. 

~

Work, work, work. It has been especially rough lately. There are just certain things a person cannot un-see or un-experience. I spend 36 nocturnal hours a week as a nurse in a pediatric ICU where anything and everything can and does happen. I have the privilege of working with families during their blackest of nights. I feel one iota of the pain that these families endure - this small amount of anguish is difficult to swallow and I cannot imagine taking their place and having to bear the entire brunt of this pain.

Thank you. Thank you for my healthy baby. Thank you for my happy family. Thank you a million times over.

We gone an done it - all growed up.

So.

You all are on pins and needles, no?

Well after a brief hiatus - I'm back, fools. We've just been a little busy.

Moving with a munchkin in tow plus workin' it on the night shift is a force to be reckoned with. Luckily we have a hot crew of friends and family that oh-so-conveniently own, what turned into, a fleet of trucks. My job requires a certain number of weekend hours punched in - which coincided beautifully with the timing of our move. The skinny of the situation? Hubbs brought the bed over the the new casa as a first order of business (sans sheets and blankets and pillows - opps). Fall asleep for the day (i.e. my night) in an empty house and wake up to a box-and-furniture filled home. Without lifting a finger.

 {Brought to us by friends...and honestly, we needed a picture break.}

A side note of great importance - if any of you are living in an apartment and your man really wants to buy and furnish a thirty gallon saltwater reef tank and there is even a teeny tiny speck of a chance you will move in the next 30 years, just say no. With your I'm-really-serious-the-answer-is-no voice. I am proud to report, however, that all the little sea critters seem to have survived the trek. Seriously?

Little Lovely is getting big and is such a ham. Case in point -

Oh my. Which reminds me of an awesome story. I was at the grocery store when a middle aged African American woman comes up to me and joyfully starts exclaiming "What a sexy baby!" followed by initiating a conversation with Lovely including such dialogue as "Who's a sexy baby? You're a sexy baby! Who's a sexy baby!?!" In lieu of actually being able to speak back,  Love simply hams it up, which exponentially escalated the situation. 

Good to know she's all that and a bag of chips.