Thursday, September 29, 2011

Boom Boom WOW!

I am feeling pretty polarized. No gray areas today, only love or hate. And as per usual, the Black Eyed Peas say it best:
Things that are so 3008

Judge! Alex!!
Nose picking!!
Forlorn babies in party hats!
Glitter pumpkins (glumpkins)
at WORK!!

Things that are so 2000 and late

Self portraits.

Empty promises parading
as inspiration.
Airfare.
This picture.

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

No Shame Here

A couple of days ago, I was in the middle of putting together a post full of Ward pictures on the blog, but I was suddenly self conscious that everyone would be like, "OMG Julia I read this blog because it's witty, fun, inspirational, a delight, captivating, fulfilling, saucy, a profile in courage, two thumbs up from Siskel and Ebert, etc. NOT for boring baby posts!" So I decided not to publish the post that hemorrhaged Ward photos.

However, a few days later, I realized that no one is the boss of me! Except for my boss, and I don't think he reads this anyway, so BABY ON BOARD!!


Some things about my babyman:
  • He loves baths. LOVES them. L.O.V.E.S.T.H.E.M.
  • He thinks Sloan is hilarious and he basically just knows that I...exist.
  • He smells pretty gross most of the time.
  • His jowls know no bounds.
  • He snorts a lot.
  • He's the Michael Jordan of farts.











Monday, September 26, 2011

This Old Thing...?


A lot of blogs that I follow belong to these adorable Mormon housewives who are so nice and fashionable and have beautiful houses and fabulous teeth (not that you'd know, because they never post teeth close ups...come on, ladies! We want teeth close ups! Don't hide your candle under a bushel!) Anyway, they have all done these little Q&A posts talking about themselves because they get so many people emailing them with questions about themselves. Well, I decided to do one of those, too, because I have, in fact, gotten fan mail myself. I got it back in October from a person named Will Hager, a sweet and intelligent man who showed such an appreciation for my work. This is what he said:

Hello Ma'am,

I work as an auditor for a suisse bank. A dormant account with a deposit valued at $21 million dollars plus accumulated interest was discovered by me. 
I find myself privileged to have this information and am willing to collaborate. The money will be banked in the Carribean Islands, being a tax free, safe haven for money and we can share it and use for investment of our choice. I have all secret details and necessary contacts for your claim of this inheritance with no encumbrance.

Wonderful Regards,

Will Hager

Thank you for the kind words and insightful questions, Mr. Hager!

My, where to begin! So many questions about boring old me! Let's see... first of all, I was born and raised in Memphis, Tennessee. My father is an astronaut, and my mother is Queen Elizabeth. I went to MIT Elementary School, where I was best friends with a person named Hillary Clinton. I now work as an assassin and I do a little modeling on the side. So that's it, really!

I'll start making this a regular thing so be on the lookout for my next post on my favorite Costco smoothie flavors!

I'd like to thank all of you who wrote in with so many interesting questions. It is wonderful to know that there are people out there who care. Unfortunately, I am extremely busy and cannot write back to any of you ever. Until next time!

Sunday, September 25, 2011

sPaRkLe TiMe

Hey everyboday!!!! Julia here! How we doin tonight? Let me hear ya say, "Yeah!"

You may be wondering why I'm in such a good mood. It's because my little man took me and littlest man to a very special event yesterday in Salt Lake. *drumroll*



When Sloan first told me about the Gem Faire coming to town, I already knew it would be magical for several reasons:  1.) The fact that they used the Olde English spelling of faire. 2.) The website's inspired banner (see above). 3.) I was fairly certain that the show would have beads, crystals, and rocks!!! ROX! RAWKSSSS!!!!!!

And, dear reader, Gem Faire 2011 did not disappoint.

1/150th of the show, my friends. 1/150th.
Some alternative names for the Gem Faire:

  • Julia M. Rehder's Wildest Dreams Faire
  • Reinforcing Gender Stereotypes Faire
  • Paralyzed with Indecision Faire
  • YOU WANT SHINY WE GIVE YOU SHINY Faire

I had to leave my cash in the car and keep my hands in my pockets in order to avoid financial ruin, divorce, and/or prison time. And it was hard, but I managed to walk out of there without any merchandise, stolen or otherwise. For the most part.

Stones! Beads! Geodes! Oh my! But more than anything, I just wanted to buy a dozen loose stones so that I can keep them in a small velvet pouch in order to pretend to be an adventurer by pouring the jewels into my hand and exclaiming, "Egads! Crazy Pete was telling the truth! Old Yellow Beard's treasure is hidden in these mountains! We're gonna be rich!!"

However...loose, faceted diamonds, emeralds, and rubies cost more than the $60 in my bank account, so I'll just have to save up for next year.

On a similar, but unrelated note: GLITTER

WHEN I SAY GLITTER YOU SAY PUMPKIN!

GLITTER! (PUMPKIN!)


GLITTER! (PUMPKIN!)


WHEN I SAY GLITTER YOU SAY OWL!

GLITTER! (OWL!)


 GLITTER! (OWL!)

Monday, September 19, 2011

15 to Go


I figured I should stop eating spaghetti in the bathtub and start working out after Sloan referred to me as a "gentle giant" on Sunday. Some people may say that's cruel, but honestly, there's no denying it: I've ridden the but-I-just-gave-birth-so-stop-asking-if-we-should-go-on-a-walk-I-can't-hear-what-Kim-is-saying-on-Keeping-Up-With-the-Kardashians-wave far enough. Now I'm on the shore. The shore of normal physiological responsibility, which includes regular exercise and a reasonable diet...and sand I guess, if I'm going to follow through on this extended metaphor. Maybe I'll call it the sand of slow metabolism.


But really, whatever. Exercise? Whomp whomp. When I go to the doctor and he asks why I'm not in better health I'll just act like I don't get the concept of exercise and I'll just be generally oblivious like my mom was the time she went to Bible camp as a little girl with her friends, and the pastor said to come up to the front if you love Jesus, and mom loved Jesus so she walked up there and all of the adults started hugging her and crying and she realized she was the only kid up there but now it means she's saved so if the baptists are the right ones, she's got her boarding pass and she will so use it because when it comes to eternal salvation, you gotta do what you gotta do (her words, not mine [actually my words]).

But come on, my youth is gone...why exercise? I'm done, through, washed up. I am too damn old for those little yoga pants and a jogging bra. This is not a yogurt commercial, this is REAL LIFE, and in REAL LIFE people don't smile while they jog. How do I know I'm old? It just hit me the other day. I know I'm old because I think high schoolers wear stupid clothes "these days" and I sincerely dislike the sound of Nicki Minaj rapping. And Sloan is getting old too. While we were watching the Oklahoma game on Saturday, he said, "I used to always take my shirt off, but now I just look at those guys and think, 'Put your shirt on, moron.'" Getting older, indeed.

So that's where I find myself in this 25th year: too old to exercise, too pretty to change diapers, and too smart to start using drugs. So when I'm trying to decide if I should watch tv or exercise or do work and it's been a rough day and Ward is lying on the floor farting like it's 1999, I just remember that I have everything a person needs: food, shelter, food, more food, and food.

Yeah, verily.

Monday, September 12, 2011

(S)HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL

Some babies are sweet and cute, while others don't trifle. They just roll on by on they twankie-fo's...or if they can't afford that, just on dubs. And by dubs, I mean bubs. And by bubs, I mean Bumbo. Straight thuggin.
The bomb bomb diggy.
Last week, I relearned something I already knew: babies are ultra androgynous-looking. I foolishly thought I had the upper hand in this situation because my baby is a boy and the whole problem is that all babies look like boys. This meant that in my case, the default sex was the correct one! It also helped that Ward looks like a tiny and perpetually perplexed old man, because a tiny and perpetually perplexed old man looks like BOY and not like GIRL. And to top things off, I don't even own anything but blue/bluish onesies for him, really cementing his gender representation. I feel like the facial hair helps, too.


Alas, even this combination of factors does not fully indicate that my baby is a boy to some people. I've also learned that I'm too chicken nice to correct people when they tell me I have a beautiful baby girl. I just say, "Thanks. We sure do love her." (I say that last part to ensure the complimentor knows that this baby is loved, despite being a girl who looks like Drew Carey without his glasses.) 

I don't really care when people call my baby a girl, I'm just happy that they talk to me in the first place. Besides, there's always the chance that when Ward's older, he'll like being called a girl...and I'll already be used to it by then.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Parental Visitation

This weekend, my mom and dad came from Tennessee to visit us in Utah!! It was so fun having them, and boy were we busy!

We went to Swiss Days in Midway! There were yodelers and heavy-set blonde women in aprons!

We played mini-golf where mom 1.) played surprisingly well and 2.) chipped the ball across the course because dad told her to "give it a little more power." 

Getting to the base of Bridal Veil Falls was a little too daunting for everyone else, so I just ran up there by myself really quick.

We hit up Sundance and rode the lift! But not before mom had to put herself in at least one sketchy situation for the sake of a picture.

We hung out with the good doctor himself at the hotel. Love my dad! People say we have the same build.

 And OF COURSE we had a lot of play time with baby boy. He loves to "run!"

I love you mom and dad! I really miss you already :(

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Gluttony!

Sloan feeds this baby a lot...and it can get kinda boring since it takes Ward approximately six hours to finish a bottle. This is what Sloan does during a good portion of his day with the baby.


However, just within the past week or so, Mr. Mom has figured out a way to play video games and feed the baby at the same time. It's head-smackingly simple:


Works like a charm. When Ward sees us lowering the pillow over his arms, he knows the drill. He immediately calms down and opens his mouth (not making a "that's what your mom did last night joke" here because that is crude and, quite frankly, disgusting).

When I feed Baby Ward, it's in a dark house in the middle of the night. To stay awake, I mess around on my iPhone doing iPhone things that only iPhone users would understand (Did I mention I have an iPhone? No big deal just wanted to let you know so if you have any iPhone questions I could probably answer them due to my iPhone experience IPHONE IPHONE IPHOOOOOOOOONE). This pretty much means that I play Word Warp, take pictures of my face and google things. I didn't realize how weird my brain got during the wee hours when I'm a few keys short of a piano (I just came up with that right now). Or a couple of blocks short of a complete Jenga set. Don't have all of my marbles in the...marble pouch...? Missing a few tools in the old tool shed that my neighbor said never to go near again or he'd get out his shotgun but I keep hearing weird noises like someone crying coming from inside WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT? Oh yes, I pulled up my google search history from last night's feeding:


I forgot about my attempted erotic foray into the lives of Judge Alex and Lou Dobbs (what can I say, I have a type). Sadly, those searches were fruitless.

Honestly, though, in regards to this search history, I'm just going to say what everyone else is thinking: we all know that they make corn dogs by rolling each hot dog in a slice of bread and then putting them all in one big oven. After that, they're frozen into a block of ice and shipped to the grocery store. Why I failed to remember that last night is really beyond me. *embarrassing*

Monday, September 5, 2011

Moments in Art

Input/Output (an original vignette written by J. Miriam Rehder)

Julia: ...variscite, verdite, aaaaaaand zircon! Those are all of the semi-precious stones in alphabetical order, son. Are you done eating? Well, then let's burp you, little man *pat pat pat pat pat pat* Why does your back feel wet? OH SON OF A--


Fin.

He Came Round the Mountain (original photograph by S.L. Rehder 2011)


Travel Revelations (not a story or anything really, just stuff written by J. Miriam Rehder)
Like most infants, mummies, and obese men, little man hates lying on his stomach. So when we give Ward his mandated tummy time, he reacts poorly...during the entire ten minutes. So we put him in his room and just close the door because seriously baby you need to just get over it there are worse things in the world like famine, war, and leather pants am I right or am I right. 

This is how it looks before we close the door:


And after his ten minutes are up, this is how it looks when we open the door BECUZ LOL HE'S AN INFANT AND CAN'T REALLY MOVE K?



So...what does it mean when my littlest man falls silent for the first time during tummy torture? That he's happy? That's he's suffocating? Or perhaps that he somehow journeyed to the faraway land beneath the crib and fell asleep there?


STRICTLY HYPOTHETICAL SITUATION: What do you do when your light-sleeping child falls asleep under his crib? Drag him out by his legs, then swaddle and console him for thirty minutes? Or just leave him there, a sad little fetal body dream-twitching on the floor?

Side Note: While taking photos of Ward during TT, I realized he looks like a beached mermaid merman merfetus:



Side Side Note: Don't google image "beached mermaid." Things get really sexy really fast.