Zachary loves to move. In fact, he never sits still. Clint blames my genetics, and is probably right. A couple nights ago he took a break from his constant twisting and turning and pushing up on his legs and cuddled into my chest. I was thrilled!!! Maybe this was a new chapter and we could sit and snuggle and read books and sing songs and play quiet lap games and just look at each other and smile........and then Zachary lifted his head and vomited chunks of blueberry and breast milk down my shirt. And then he was off to moving and grooving again. And I was off to take a shower.
So this is Z doing some sort of crazy sumo split stretch. He gets his leg too wide, tries to pull himself up to standing, but for obvious reasons has some real difficulties. I vacillate between helping him out and laughing in the background with my camera ready.
One morning he was reaching into the above ottoman and became perfectly perched on the edge, rocking back and forth, on the brink of diving in head first. Again, it was a really hard choice deciding whether to help him out, or to grab the camera. On that particular occasion I decided to help him, a real Mother of the Year moment.
We recently spent two weeks in Southern California. It was heavenly. No cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, and if I (accidentally of course) left my laundry it would magically become washed, dried, and folded to perfection. I feel like I should probably be growing out of this soon (I am going on 30), but there is something so wonderfully refreshing about mooching off of my parents.
And my mom is seriously the best laundry folder. Clint, who is not the most observant type, even noticed her origami underwear masterpieces. While he wistfully stared I threw him a look that said: Don't get any ideas buddy. I'm not that type of girl.
I'm more the Jackson Pollock type with my colors and whites, while my mom is Botticelli or Michelangelo. They both have their merits, right!??
We spent as much time as possible at the beach. Corona Del Mar, Blacks, Scripps, and a night of beach camping at San Onfre. Clint and I rekindled our love of body boarding, and went out several times while kind family members watched Z snooze on the shore, or try and eat sand.
It was so fun to be out with Clint catching waves---I felt like we were eighteen again. We rode a wave together and then he reached over and held my hand...totally something out of a Zac Efren movie. We finally came to terms that there is no beach,and no waves in Utah, and so we left our wetsuits and fins in California for next time. I cannot wait. I love being out there.