Yes, Jillian, I did get this quote from a Starbucks coffee cup.

"The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life."
-Anne Morriss

The "coffee collar" covered all of this quote except for the part before the dash - but that's all it took to hook me. I feel this is a concept that so many miss, and is the reason I have always been so content. I am the opposite of a person with a fear of commitment, I am a compulsive committer. I am at my happiest when I have something to be deeply committed to; swimming, Matt, medical school, and now Brock. I never understood why, until reading this quote. If you have a purpose, a goal, guidelines...you can do whatever you want, as long as you get there. So, you have a moment of insanity or spontaneity, you can always return to ground zero, and you know exactly where that is.

Maybe this quote made the $400 a year I drop at Starbucks (and other various coffee shops) acceptable...probably not.

Officially a "Baby"

Brock is 3 months today, and no longer considered a newborn. Though, I think it was 2 weeks ago today that I swear he went to bed a helpless seeming newborn and woke up a full-fledged "baby". He does all those things that babies are supposed to do, like put everything in his mouth. He is obsessed with mouths and tongues. He just stares at the food on the table and longingly watches every bite enter the mouth of whomever is in the most direct line of sight. When he has gotten ahold of a finger, or a toy, he immediately brings the object to his mouth, curls up his legs and makes a growling noise - like a dog tearing at its prey. (I would upload a video of it, but have yet to figure that one out...)

He doesn't sound like a newborn anymore. He doesn't eat like a newborn anymore - had to break out the 8 oz. bottles this weekend. He doesn't sleep like a newborn. He has way more awake time during the day and always sleeps for at the very least a 6 hour stretch at night. Last night, he went to bed at 10:35p and woke up at 6:10a. And he definitely is not the size of a newborn. He is just so long, he has been in 3-6 month clothing for a full month or so by now. But this weekend, sadly, I officially packed away all the cute, darling 0-3 month items. When it looks like your little boy is wearing capri's and trying to show some chest in 30 degree weather, it is time to let go.

His first episode of giggling was on February 3rd - for my mother, while she was changing him, thank goodness I was around. Cutest sound EVER. Previous to then he would just let out one half-assed laugh sound. He finds fart noises to be quite amusing, so he, cousin Xander and uncle Timothy should get along quite well.

Why does this wonderful, can't get enough, period in the child-bearing process go by so fast, and pregnancy had to linger on forever!?

PS - Updated swimming pictures 2 posts below...

MM #2

Ever since the blessed arrival of our boy, the trash can gets filled with in 3 days solely by styrofoam carry out boxes and paper coffee cups (that's all me, baby.) So, in an attempt to end this ridiculous cycle of ordering in, I decided to plan two dinners and make a trip to the grocery store. I repeat, two dinners. I was responsible for acquiring the items needed for two, measely, uncomplicated dinners. These were 1: chicken, pasta and green beans; and 2: greek pizza.

I wandered the store, making faces and talking to Brock the entire time, nearly crashing into a support beam - twice, and collecting the necessary items. Finally, after nearly an hour, I check out and headed home. Upon arrival Matt put all the groceries away and I fed the baby. Of course, we got Wendy's that night for dinner, but we discussed having the pizza tomorrow night. Only then did it dawn on me - Feta cheese, check; purple onion, check; spinach, check; olives, check; vital ingredients to make pizza such as mozzarella cheese, sauce and crust - uh oh. I mean seriously. You can actually make a pizza if you just have cheese, crust and sauce, but I am sorry my friend, you cannot make a pizza with only toppings!

Do I dare hope for a swimmer?

Though it is Brock's 12 week birthday - Alexander is the true Birthday boy! For his 3rd birthday he got a pool party! I remember thinking it was the coolest thing ever to get to swim in the Winter-time. The celebration was held at the Matt Ross Community Center. It turned out to be a really nice facility, a bit crowded, but very clean and open. And not mention, that boy got more presents than the 5 of us all together (my siblings and I) did at Christmas time. Spoiled oldest children. Yet one day, he will claim he got jipped and his younger siblings had it made. The grass is always greener... Brock got into the pool water for the first time in his life. I already knew he loved the water, as evidenced by the fact that he giggles whenever I first put him in the bath. But I thought the colder, chlorine-fragranced pool water might not be as pleasurable. Wrong. He loved it. He was kicking away, didn't even cringe with the first plunge into the cool water. He did not enjoy, however, choking on the water when being dunked under...I tried to tell him not to breath in until his head was fully re-emerged. Stubborn baby.
I figure, if he turns out to be a swimmer, then I will just not allow morning practices until he is 16. It's not like he has any potential to be an endurance athlete anyways, so AM practices are a pointless addition, meant only to make it "fair" for all the athletes. I mean, lets admit it, what did the sprinters really do in the morning? Cardio? Sprints in the dive well, aka hot tub? Or just some random crap to make it appear that they/we were working out? I'm just sayin'.

Oh, and a shout out to my bro Brennan who turns 22 on the 18th!! And Matt's Grandma on the 14th, who is at the age where numbers don't matter. Yayers!

Dishes.

I think all dishes should be made of really good quality glass. I have decided this because I hate that plastic and metal get microscopic scratches in them after each wash. It pains me to wash certain items, I honestly cringe as I do it. My once beautifully clear set of bottles is now murky looking. I want them to appear new and well taken care of for their entire life. My new Iced Tea maker pitcher...same deal. My nice Nambe silver platter...scratches! And if I use a very fine, soft towel, it doesn't do the trick, food residue it left on the dishes.

Cotton

When Matt and I began dating over 8 years ago, everyday seemed to be an improvement on the one before it. I felt nothing but increasing love and admiration, so naturally, as an eternal skeptic, I spent the first few years wondering when I would wake up and the pendulum would have begun to swing the other way. I finally gave up on this notion, and accepted the fact that I had found my infinity. And then we got married. Techniquely, cotton is the appropriate gift for a 2nd wedding anniversary, but I will always accept horses! Matt got me a couple of tickets to go see the Lipizzaner Stallions - who to take? As for my gift to Matt, it doesn't exactly qualify either because it is a pair of Simples made of hemp - inside marked "Granola not included".

Two years ago, yesterday, did Matt and I think we would be going to dinner and a movie while our little boy was with the sitter (grandma & grandpa O)? Kind of. We decided one year ago to go for it. Isn't it strange? We knew Brock would exist, even long before his conception. I am constantly in awe of the idea of procreation. Even as a med student, I still can't quite grasp how something this complex, real and alive came from nothing. We were once nothing.

Now we are a family.

Heathen No More

What better way for Matt and I to celebrate our 8 year dating anniversary than to save our child from purgatory? Brock received the sacrament of Baptism on February 8th at Visitation Church. It turned out to be a day filled with tradition. Visitation is where my 2 brothers and nephew were baptized and where Matt and I were married, as well as my grandparents. Brock was baptized by the priest that baptized Matt and married his parents. And the award for most impressive trans-generational item goes to the baptismal gown! So, if you are wondering why we put our only son in a dress and bonnet, here's why. We figured out that this garment dates back at least 90 years, if not more. It was worn by Matt (and all his brothers and cousins, minus 2), his mother, and his grandfather. As for the bonnet, it is an Irish tradition, and it becomes a handkerchief to be worn on Brock's wedding day - if he has one.

I say "if he has one" only because after this blessed day, it seems Brock may be destined to priesthood for two reasons. The first: in a photo taken during the ceremony, all people look normal, except Brock, who is completely illuminated, glowing if you will. The explaination could be that he was the only one dressed entirely in white, and also the only one small enough for his full body to be in a sun spot, but I prefer the holy-er of the two options. The second: he was fussing throughout the entire procedure, except when he was being directly looked at or touched by the priest. Coincidence?
The day ended with a reception at our house. We discovered our houses's maximum occupancy to be roughly 40 people. Thank goodness a good handful of people decided to skip out on the tastey food and drinks, I am not sure where we would have put even 2 more individuals. (We will begin accepting applications now for an invitation to his 1st birthday party...)

"Mommy Moment" Numbero Uno

It was bound to happen. Even my Human Behavior and Development course in medical school mentioned the fact that new mothers tend to be forgetful, disheveled and distracted. Of course, as I do with most things, I assumed I was immune to this phenomenon. Wrong.

So, after a couple hours of baby clothes shopping, I decided to grab dinner from Fazoli's (never have I been more appreciative of drive-thru restaurants than when my purse turned into a baby carrier and diaper bag!) There were probably 9 cars in line and I felt it worth the wait, Brock had other things in mind. He did not enjoy lying in the motionless 4runner and began to get upset. As I tried to console him with a pacifier, I also tried to stay up with the car in front of me, only half-assedly paying attention. Before I know it, I get to the pick-up window. The guy tells me "11.81" and I gladly hand over 12 bucks and a penny. Still trying to keep Brock from screaming, I wait patiently at the window, only to become very confused. I absolutely do not remember rolling down my window and ordering food at any point. A ton of paniced thoughts run through my head - I remember reading the menu, and sitting in front of the speaker, and talking to Leah on the phone about what we wanted to order, but nope, I never talked to a Fazoli's employee about it!

When the guy finally gets back to the window, I try to think of the best way to tell him that I am a complete idiot, and paid for the people's food in the car behind me. How on earth did I manage to do this!? My previous lack of stupidity must have built up and turned into one huge, astronomical, can't make up this stuff, moment of brainlessness. Needless to say, he had no idea what to do (because I am sure this has never happened to him before) and he has to get the manager. Finally, after 11 minutes, I watched the clock, I got my money back, and drove off in shame. Though they offered to let me order, I was not about to make the now endless line of cars wait any longer. So, Leah and I enjoyed some tastey Boston Market, where there was no line, instead.

1 For 1

No, Brock is no dummy, he knew the Chiefs weren't in the superbowl! He just didn't know when the best time would be to wear the outfit his grandpa & Terry got him for Christmas...can you blame him? Also, with the Steelers' win Brock is 100% on predicting the superbowl winner. Perhaps he has a future in gambling advising ("Two for the Money" anyone?) Though, right now his pick is always my pick, so who's to say.

I would also like to add that Brock slept for eight and a half hours again last night, that is his 3rd eight and a half-er, and probably his 20th six plus. We lucked out and not only got a good sleeper, but one that does not confuse day and night. He is nothing but smiles in the morning. When I go to change him after his long nights sleep he goes nuts on the table. We probably spend almost 15 minutes there while he shreaks, coos, and flails, all the while maintaining a huge grin. He loves to be naked (is Brock that kid you see streaking across the front yard in the future?) The exception to the grin being when he has an episode of momentary panic because he has kicked his legs so hard that his arms fly back and hit the changing pad. For an instant the smile is traded in for a look of complete and utter shock, until he realizes he has gone nowhere, then the giddy baby comes back full force. What a total morning person, like his mother.

In addition, Happy Birthday Michael O'Laughlin! Who turned 14 this Groundhog's day.

Work It

After having such a beautiful, stud for a child, we realized it was time to up-grade the photography equiptment. Matt has since become quite into the hobby:

http://www.representationoflife.blogspot.com/

This link it also to the right, marked "Lova".