Sweet July

We packed a lot into one glorious summer month because let's face it... Ya gotta take advantage of warm Park City days.  P.S. Don't you just want to eat him?  

Wes spent this past Independence Day (technically, the day before) much like he spent it in 1975.  Playing.  It's something he's very good at...and much better at than steering his body down a slip-n-slide to avoid a sprinkler head.  We had a great American time with the Charles clan this year celebrating this great country.   Liam, of course, was smothered with attention.  He wasn't a fan of the cheering as slip-n-sliders came racing down the backyard hill.  Fireworks are also not his thing.  Duly noted.  

Monday the 5th was the legal holiday this year, so we got our grunge on with the Rawson side in the Uintas, per tradition.  Wes played catch-the-football with the boys and I beat people at games, also per tradition.  And Liam got to experience the great outdoors!  

Notice the multiple tongues in this one.  Like mother, like son. 

July was: a few picnics in the park...

A few hikes around the block...

A little splashing in the tub...

Some posing for GQ...

And for Gerber...

Liam's introduction to his only living great-grandparent, Great-Grandma Helen...

Hanging with some neighborhood friends...

Bouncing around the room...

Ben Folds Concert at Deer Valley with beautiful college-bound niece and mom...

Being loved to pieces by Sissy and Lucy...

A little Blue Steel...

Hanging with Kissing-Cousin Avery and Auntie Milli at the park and pool...

Eating MoMo's necklace at the Pioneer Day celebration at City Park...

Some more picnics in the park...

Dadda looking like a stud with his new sunglasses Mamma got him for Father's Day...

Cheering on talented friend, Molly as she did the running man at mach speed in the Hale Center Theater's production of The Wedding Singer...

And of course, July was especially Liam cuting us all out. 

Don't Waste the Pretty

I read an article in Parenthood recently that struck a chord, but not the one the writer intended to strike. The piece was entitled "Feel Better Naked" and was all about believing that your body is sexy and incredible even though you may be toting a few extra pounds and sagging in some places you weren't before, post-baby.   The author cautions, "Drop the notion that "where your body should be" is where Victoria Beckham's is-- or even where yours was prebaby-- and you'll make life easier."  Let's face it.  The life-creating and birthing capabilities of the female body are miraculous, truly.  But do I really have to revel in my "mushy tushy" and not-so-loving love handles for the rest of my life?

Is 27 really the end of the pretty?

For the past nine months, I have tried to embrace the new me.  These stretch marks are war wounds from a battle well-fought.  This cushy tummy is the perfect pillow for Liam to cuddle up to.  More to love, right?  I've tried the not-caring thing.  It's true, "Denise Richards might look good in a bathing suit, but I highly doubt any of us would want Charlie Sheen for a baby daddy."  I should be grateful for and respectful of my body.  It can do amazing things.  And there are more important things in life than vanity.

But is it just about vanity?  What about health and fitness?  

I came to a conclusion.  If my body can create another human, why can't it bounce back to the days of hotness?  Easier said than done, but one can try.  So what did I do?  I joined a women's fitness club down the street from my house.  There are cardio, kickboxing, pilates, yoga and zumba classes galore and I can go to as many as I want for a flat rate.  Why, you ask, have I signed up for indoor classes when I live in the outdoor fitness capitol of the world?  Well, it is because I have a procrastination disease and I end up sitting around all day wearing my workout clothes, but not actually working-out in them.   I need a schedule.  I need to feel like if I don't go, I'm wasting money and letting down my instructors.  This is my version of self-motivation.

Wes has agreed to take care of Liam during the one-hour classes while I'm sweating to the oldies...or Black Eyed Peas.  I want the pretty back, and I'm going to get it.  There are too few years of it to waste it away pretending my babies can't live without me for an hour a day.  I want to be my healthiest self.

So watch out, glutes and gut.  I'm coming for you.

Swimming Lessons

After a nine month winter, we finally took Liam to the pool for the first time.  He's hooked.  I think he thinks it's a giant bath...minus soap in the eyes.  I have to say, there is something unequivocally cute about baby swim trunks.  Am I right?  He's our little water baby!

Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition Cover, 2010? 

This is the first and last time you will see me in a swimsuit before I embark on and conquer The Road to Hotness.  And that will happen just after I conquer the chocolate chip cookies calling my name from the kitchen.  Happy summer!  

"My Daddy Helped Born Me"

This is the Father's Day post that never happened.  Never in the history of the world was there a father who loved a son more than Wes loves Liam, and vice versa.  You can see it in the way Liam lights up and starts flapping his chubby arms up and down when his daddy enters the room.  You can see it in the way Wes melts as he rocks Liam to sleep and Liam lets out a sleepy sigh as he drifts peacefully into dreamland..."Daaaddaa." 

It started before Liam was born.  Wes took an active role in making sure Liam arrived safely and happily into this world.  Liam felt loved in the womb as Wes read him stories, sang to him and told him he loved him any chance he could.  Wes attended every single Bradley class with me, and learned the intricate and gory details of childbirth.  He practiced relaxation exercises with me.  He did the research.  His role in helping Liam arrive was irreplaceable.  I am so grateful to Dr. Robert Bradley who paved the way for today's fathers to be able to participate actively in the birth experience.  I believe that it has allowed fathers to develop a deeper bond with their children faster than the generations of fathers expelled to dreary waiting rooms for the duration of their wife's solitary labor.  

I believe that one of the most important elements of a healthy society is for a man to be a good father to his son(s).  I also believe that those who come up short in that responsibility will have to answer for their failure.  Wes is playful, gentle, empathetic, engaged, interested, encouraging and protective of his baby boy.  Most importantly, he is full of love.  Sure, he is forgetful and has a one-track mind, but he has already succeeded in every way that matters.  I believe he had been anxiously awaiting fatherhood for many years.  

Weston, thank you for being the Dadda I always envisioned you would be.  As Liam gets older, I will remind our boy that your love for him was born long before he was.  And he will know that his daddy helped born him.

Happy (late) Father's Day!