Based on Actual Events

Say Cheese!

2012-02-08T10:57:00.000-07:00

For various reasons (one of which may include wanting to be admired and loved by my peers), I joined Instagram! This means I now have three mediums through which to share pictures of my ~~baby~~ life. It also means that I am now able to overlap my picture posting even MORE! So, get ready for a triple helping, those of you who are my Facebook and Instagram friends.

Follow me if you want to live - @julia_rehder

Swing anxiety

Sloan acting as my personal lecturer/life coach.

If this face doesn't say, "I love mom," then I
don't know what does.

If this face doesn't say, "Finally, mom
isn't up in my grill tryin to kiss me in front
of everyone," I don't know what does.

See how cool my baby is? Please like me.

This was after I told him that Rick Santorum took
Missouri in the GOP primary.

No comment necessary.

Snoozin'

2012-02-06T10:48:00.000-07:00

Also, I guess he just trusts no one with his favorite toy, so he keeps it close:

I Don't Like Mila Kunis

2012-02-04T12:30:00.001-07:00

Has she been rude to me? No.

Has she hurt me? No.

Has Mila Kunis done anything to me personally that could be considered offensive? Well, no.

Heck, does she even know that I exist? *sigh*

Do I actually dislike her because she seems to have a cool personality and everyone knows that violates the female code, which explicitly states "No woman shall be both cool and sexy, lest she make men realize that the fairer sex doeth possess the capacity to be multi-faceted"?

Or is it just that I've written a couple of slightly verbose letters to her (and even included my picture, a lock of hair, and my social security number) and she has yet to write back asking me to come along on one of her trips to the south of France or the Mediterranean or even just to, like, Legoland?

Let's not over analyze any of this, guys, geez. Just know that I don't really love Mila to pieces.

And Sloan knows this...which is why I shouldn't be surprised about what he did. After having left my phone to charge on his nightstand for the evening, I unplug it and crawl into bed to do a crossword and find this on my screen:

*deep breaths* If there is one thing I've learned about Sloan since marrying him, it's that my reaction to his behavior is the source of his satisfaction. So, instead of trying to punch him in the kidneys or tear down the curtains or pour bleach on his clothes like I otherwise would when I find Mila Kunis on my lock screen, I just poker face it. He will not win this one. I am the boss of me, not him. I am going to be the better man and simply unlock my phone and get to my crosswor--

OH.

OH HELL NO.

And THAT'S What Really Matters!

2012-02-03T09:09:00.001-07:00

I love being a mother. Each moment with my child is wondrous and awe-filled as we journey through life together. During those quiet times when it is just Ward and me looking at each other, I may not know what he's thinking, but I do know what I'm thinking:

MAH BABAY LOOX LIKE TOMMY PICKLES!

MAH BABAY LOOX LIKE TOMMAY PICKLES!!!

Right guys?

My Baby Uggo

2012-01-30T10:43:00.001-07:00

Ward may be a flat-headed, dopey-faced snicklefritz, but he's MY flat-headed, dopey-faced snicklefritz. And this mother loves her baby's face that only a mother could love. *sigh* Just look at this ugly mug.

Via Text

2012-01-26T12:29:00.000-07:00

Julia: I miss Wardo. Send me a picture.
Sloan: K.

Julia: !!!! He's just asleeeeeping!

Sloan: Not anymore. Here:

Julia: Oh man oh man oh man! He's awake!

Sloan: We're havin a good time:

Julia: Awwww!! Send more pictures!

Sloan: Okay:

Julia: Oh dear...

Feelin the Burn

2012-01-24T21:51:00.001-07:00

People have been asking me how I have gotten so fit, and I tell them that I've been doing the Insanity workout, which is a lie. I have, however, watched the infomercial for those workout videos several times, and that is exhausting in its own way.

The truth is, as fabulous as I may look, I haven't lost all of my weight yet. Instead, I've been employing little tricks that give off the illusion that I'm thinner. Things like wearing dark colors at my waist to visually cinch it in, and walking around in heels to lengthen the leg. Things like wearing skirts that hit at the knee so as not to look frumpy, and sucking in my stomach as much as is physically sustainable without losing consciousness. I have also discovered that wearing your winter coat indoors can really hide those problem areas. Yes, a nice heavy ski jacket can comfortably conceal the lovehandles one may get when wearing their husband's XL basketball shorts or that pencil skirt that won't quite zip all the way up.

Well, despite my fashion successes, Sloan convinced me that I still needed to join a gym because apparently "being in shape is more important than a daily 3 hour nap." So I signed up and went for the first time last week after work, and it was not pretty. But what was I expecting? When you realize at 3 in the afternoon that your underwear is on backwards, it's just not a good day to try new things. But in my defense, I thought things were going my way because not only had I seen a rainbow that morning, but I had also found a fruit snack in my bra while changing into my gym clothes!

Let me just explain a few things to those of you fat and lazy slobs who don't have a gym membership like I do: I will start out by saying the worst part about working out at a gym is the working out part. And the rest of the stuff, too, that stuff sucks. Do you know how long you have to ride a stationary bike to burn more than ten calories? Too long. And no matter what workout you do, sweat rolls down your butt like you're some kind of animal. Also, if you push yourself too hard, say by running half a mile on the treadmill, you will throw up into a trash can. But most importantly, don't make the same mistake I did: do not waltz into the gym wearing your high school gym shorts and a baggy shirt. Women don't wear comfortable workout clothes these days, you big dumbo. Wear something more like this:

And another thing, don't wear a sweatshirt into the gym, because you won't know where to put it so you'll just try to nonchalantly work out while wearing it until you start to notice you're exhibiting the signs of heat stroke. Then, since you still don't know where everyone else is putting their jackets, just go ahead and leave. You can take off your sweatshirt in the car.

Why, Yes! I Do Believe I Have a Dollar to Spare.

2012-01-13T11:58:00.001-07:00

Similar to how nerds prefer asian chicks or how Playboy bunnies like "entrepreneurs," there is a certain demographic that finds Julia Rehders especially attractive: homeless men.

Drifters, hobos, Occupy Wall Street protestors, whatever you want to call them, the homeless feel something special for me...something tender, something extra. And I don't want to brag, but whenever I am walking in a big* city, the streets are veritably lined with potential suitors who have come to court me:

"Ooooh, honey, yo hair so prittay!!" *toothless lip licking*
*swig from liquor bottle* "When God was blessin ya, baby grrrl, He did NOT know when tah STAHP!"
"You can be mah woman if dat's how you wanna be rollin!" *unsteady pelvic thrust*
"YOU THINK I CAN LIVE OFF OF THESE QUARTERS BARBIE DOLL?"
"Hey sexy! I'd like to *** *** *** and then *** ***! *** *** *** Big Mac and fries!" (adding the expletives back in would not help these sentences make any more sense)

I know many a woman who might be disgusted or disturbed by these comments. She feels violated when a homeless admirer attempts to gently touch her hair, or when he affectionately tosses one of his shoes at her butt. She avoids those men at all costs.

That kind of woman is a snob.

You had better believe I appreciate the advances I receive, no matter who the advancer is; whether homeless man, gas station attendant, local politician, dog walker, dog, dogfish, whomever. I treasure each wooful encounter. And why shouldn't I? These men may be homeless/disturbed/lonely/narcissists/dogs/fish, but they are not blind (well, most of them), so I go ahead a work it when I walk up and down those city streets. Being fabulous for the homeless is not about me, it's about giving back to the community.

* Unfortunately, I do not actually live in a big city. I live in Orem, UT, which is a town too small and too snowy to sustain a healthy amount of homeless men. And here, the last time someone hit on me, it was the teenage cart pusher outside of a grocery store. Not even like the manager or anything. And it wasn't just me running in to grab something while in my gym clothes. I had spent hours getting ready for a party, so I was dressed up and had basically done anything there was to do with my outsides. AND it was dark outside. AND he must've been pretty bored because all of the carts were already inside. Not to mention that I later found out the back of my dress was tucked in to my tights, so I'm pretty sure that was the main draw. However, I am determined to remain optimistic about my situation here in Orem. And a teenage cart pusher is better than nothin.

Who's that in the distance?

2012-01-12T11:00:00.000-07:00

Is it a bird?

A plane?

It's One Shoe Magoo*!
When two shoes will only slow you down.

*If you haven't already figured it out, this baby girl always ends up wearing only one shoe. Poor Sloan just kinda threw out the nickname "One Show Magoo" while pulling her out of the car one afternoon...little did he know that the rest of the family would become obsessed with saying it, much like Nancy Grace using the word "travesty," or a Polynesian BYU student explaining (to anyone with a pulse) that their 13-letter middle name means "beautiful flower heavy with dew descended from the heavens that are vast like the ocean."

Anyway, Brisen loves Ward (because he is a baby). All she wants to do is be around him, even if it means only admiring him from afar:

Also, when Brisen is around Ward, she says "BAYBEEEE" and tries to give him things, because babies love things!!! However, Ward isn't very gracious. He's kind of a jerk in general:

Circa

2012-01-09T10:00:00.000-07:00

I got to dig through old pictures of Sloan while we were on Bainbridge for Christmas. This one is my favorite (mainly because it has major WTF factor).

And while I was looking ~~for naked baby pictures of Sloan to post on the internet because those type of things are always funny~~ through the photo archive of his childhood, it was reaffirmed to me that he has always been a manly man (as if his sweatsuit in the above photo was not already proof enough). Not only did Sloan play 54314519867451 sports, but he has always been tall enough to make the back row in his team photos. Manly.

Also, Sloan's mother saved this little gem from his elementary school days. I am presenting it without comment:

My feet is are like cold white long logs floating on cement. My eyes is are like dart targets getting put in a case. My hands are like shooting stars moving in the universe. My nose is a tall rocky mountain. My heart holds heavy anger that is blue as a sea. I live in light future and eat electricity.

I'm Still Jenny from the Block

2012-01-05T15:53:00.000-07:00

Before I started this blog, people only talked to me in public when I was jaywalking or not washing my hands in the bathroom or that time when I was six months pregnant and pulling my luggage along in the airport when I felt something weird in the leg of my jeans but I just ignored it for a couple minutes but then I glanced back and saw a pair of my dirty underwear lying on the ground in front of the Arrivals/Departures board and I was frozen with indecision about whether I should go back and get it or just cut my losses and keep walking like they weren't even mine but some lady made that decision for me when she yelled "HAY I THANK YA DRAHPPED SUMFIN" in my direction and man oh man if I've ever done a walk of shame in my life it was then.

Anyway.

Now, people are very interested in me. They often ask me things like, "Do you write your own jokes?" and "What do you do for a living?" or "Did you really pull a half-eaten bag of Ruffles out of the break room trash can or was that just a rumor?" to which I answer "No," "I don't know," and "The chips were still in the bag and it's not like they were touching the other pieces of garbage so I don't see what the big deal is."

People ask me these things because I am what some might consider a "local celebrity." On more than one occasion, I have been approached in public by people telling me that they love my blog. Are these people close friends and/or relatives that I just happen to see at Target? Perhaps. And by "love my blog", do I mean that they read it once because "Aunt Tammy thought that picture of your baby in the party hat reminded her of Grandpa Marty so she emailed me the link"? It wouldn't be unheard of.

Listen, I'm just trying to be me. I never wanted to be famous, I just wanted to live my life. And even though I am now a wildly successful internet personality, I'm still the same person I've always been. Just more important. And prettier. Richer, too. But otherwise, exactly the same.

My Little Warrior

2012-01-04T19:04:00.000-07:00

I am ~~William Wallace~~ Edward Rehder. And I see a whole army of my country~~men~~babies, here in defiance of ~~tyranny~~ adorable baby head wear! You have come to fight as free ~~men~~ babies. And free ~~men~~ babies you are! What will you do without freedom? Will you fight? *grunt*

Fight and you may die. Run and you will live at least awhile. *grunt* And dying in your bed many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one chance, to come back here as young men and tell our enemies that they may take our lives...*grunt*

...but they will never take...*grunt*

...OUR FREEDOOOOOM!!!! *grunt*

*sigh*

Someday.

Traveling is Always Fun and Relaxing

2012-01-02T21:36:00.000-07:00

Things that TSA may or may not have seen belonging to the Rehders as we went through security:

1 cuckoo clock
25 (!!) diapers
9 Almond Rocas
2 orthopedic bras
1.5 Julias (I ate a lot over the break)
1 deep fryer (wrapped in a sweatshirt in Sloan's backpack)
1234678 tinkling baby toys
1 baby ignoring his toys and playing with an unused diaper instead
3 used tissues
0 dignities

What No One Told Me About Owning My Own Baby

2011-12-28T13:55:00.000-07:00

Your baby will constantly try to French kiss you.
You will pick your baby's nose a lot.
Your baby will fart on your hand when you're holding him and you're not allowed to drop him.
Your baby will sneeze on your face.
Your baby won't act any differently during the moments leading up to a major barf. A surprise every time.

Darth is Older!

2011-12-27T23:29:00.002-07:00

Sloan: What are ya, doin baby? You've been on the computer for a long time.
Julia: I'm editing a picture from Darth's birthday party! I'm gonna scrapbook it!!
Sloan: Oh, good for you! Let me see.
Julia: ...well, okay. But keep in mind, I'm not quite done.
Sloan: Ah, I'm sure it looks grea--oh.

Julia: You like it? *happy clap* I'll print one out for Darth!!!

P.S. I want you to notice that Mikyn, Sloan, and Ed are all blowing on their noisemakers absentmindedly and unencouraged. They just love to party that much.

It's a Banana Split House

2011-12-26T17:16:00.001-07:00

A Washington Christmas

2011-12-25T11:00:00.000-07:00

Bainbridge/Seattle So Far

A story in ~~pictures~~ outtakes

Brisen

2011-12-24T21:06:00.000-07:00

This baby girl is my bestie. Sort of. Kind of. Ugh I don't know it's complicated.

Smile!

Smile!!

Smiiiiiiiile!

Fine.We'll just be serio-

Ahahahaha ya got me!

Playing on Repeat

2011-12-19T12:29:00.000-07:00

When he's in a good mood, Ward kind of plays on a loop. He does three of his favorite things: try to sit up, grab his feet, talk to his diaper bag. These also happen to be Sloan's favorite things to do. Genetics!

(I don't know where Ward got the idea to do crunches all day. He can't sit upright by himself anyway, so I don't know what his endgame is.)

Bainbridge Island 101

2011-12-18T15:19:00.000-07:00

Sloan is from a place called Alaska. But his parents moved to Seattle when was seven because, lol Alaska? No thanks.

*cue relaxing tourism music* The Rehder family lives on Bainbridge Island, which is a 35 minute ferry ride from downtown Seattle. It's a charming place full of people who are welcoming and open-minded...but also kind of bananas.

Ya see, I consider myself somewhat liberal; I think health care should be free, that the disadvantaged be given advantages, and I think Stephen Colbert is funny even when I don't totally understand what he's talking about. The people of Bainbridge, however, kind of make me look like Ann Coulter in comparison. This is mostly due to the fact that a lot of people in the Pacific Northwest in general tend to think the environment is more important than people.*

Everyone dresses like they're in a 1998 Land's End catalog, which is cute. They have a cute little downtown and a cute little high school and cute little roads that are overrun with mindless cyclist revolutionaries. Which is also just so cute. Because bicycles need rights too! As many rights as cars, in fact, and people need to learn that cyclists own the road just as much as-BAHAHAHAHA, sorry. I kept that one going as long as I could.

Oh, the Man won't like this...

Stick it to him!

No hurry, though.

Besides riding their bikes slowly in front of motorists, the people of BI do other meaningful things, like protesting the presence of a cell phone tower and spray painting YOU'RE KILLING BAINBRIDGE on construction barriers that surround new building sites.

Don't get me wrong, I really like Bainbridge. In fact, it's one of my favorite places to go (and I've been to Hawaii!) However, I need to write this post in order to make room in my soul for our upcoming trip. I booked our Christmas vacay plane tickets for the wrong week of my work PTO. And because I didn't check on those details until WELP YESTERDAY, plans have changed slightly and now we are spending two whole weeks in Seattle for Christmas! Again, let me state that I really like going to Sloan's house for the holidays. However, being anywhere for two weeks means I'm gonna be coming up with some pretty memorable insults about that place by the end of my stay. So as a means of prevention, I need to get all of the Seattle jokes off my chest before we leave. Here we go:

I just flew in last night and BOY are my arms tired!!
And what's the deal with the Space Needle? It's not a needle! And it's not even in SPACE! AmIright?
...so then I said, "Lady! This is Bainbridge Island! We practically invented eco-terrorism!"
Knock knock! Who's there? RAIN! Rain who? IT'S RAININ', I TELL YA!
I saw this little guy on the ferry the other day without any pants on! So I says to him, "Look, I know you're a dog and everything, but a little respect!"
Also...Clam chowder, right folks? Where's the chowder? Sheesh!

That's all for this evening, ladies and gentlemen!

THANKYOUANDGOODNIGHT. *bow*

* I have a rant related to this principle, but I put it at the end because if there's one thing my mom taught me, it was that if I want to rant about something in the middle of a blog post, I should just put an asterisk in and continue that part as a footnote to the post so as not to lose my audience in the middle of the original story. Mom, you always give the best advice!

Anyway: Some of you may be saying in response to that last sentence: "What? Caring for the environment and caring for people are one in the same, Julia!" I know, I know. Sort of true, but there are plenty of times when the long term necessities of nature are diametrically opposed to the short term needs of the people. And the people should win. This is the reason that aggressive environmentalists seem like major time wasters to me.

Hear me out.

Now, I know this is not totally sound reasoning, but why can't we as a world get on the same page when it comes to righting wrongs? Let's address the same problem all at once. That way, we can knock that stuff off our list much faster. And the environment is not at the top of that list. Can any ethical person honestly say that preventing the killing of a human is less urgent than preventing the cutting down a forest? Now, I know how things can get out of hand, I've seen Avatar. But why get all protesty about genetically-altered crops when you could be spending that time getting all protesty about politically-fueled starvation and famine and murder? If your time and money could be going to refugees' starving babies, then protesting the far-future ramifications of a robust corn that can feed millions of people can wait until we a have little downtime. And don't worry, if someday this corn has morphed into a sentient plant monster that eats entire villages in an afternoon, then we will definitely address that issue. Promise! In the meantime, stop marching in front of the grocery store with signs about Frankenfruits and do something more important for our current world state. Once we get the genocide and civil war displacement stuff taken care of, then we can work on stuff like the environment, the arts, and all of the other sincerely noble causes in the world. I guess what I'm trying to say is, before you do something important, do something more important. Like writing a poorly-trafficked blog about your weird husband and moderately-cute baby.

It's Friday? This is How We Do.

2011-12-16T23:23:00.003-07:00

1. Roll into Texas Roadhouse at 4:50 pm like we own the place, slam back some Sprites. Order the ribs. Maybe some potato skins? Who knows.

2. Pack dat baby in the stroller and get our stroll on at the mall. Straight up.

3. Stand around in Baby Gap and complain about their prices. They triflin.

4. Meet up with Santa to holla at ya boy.

How you livin' Santa? Straight.

5. Pack up. Roll out.

"I Can't Believe I Ate the Whole Thing" - Homer Simpson

2011-12-16T10:11:00.000-07:00

I don't really "cook," per se. I do heat things up (the culinary term is "nuke"). I can also stack my edibles (sandwiching), and I have been known to combine two cereals in the same bowl once or twice in my life. *brushes shoulder off* There is also one other thing I can make: cinnamon and sugar pretzel bites.

PRETZEL BITES

I SAID

PRETZEL BITES.

PRET

ZEL

BITES

Let me tell you a little story about pretzel bites.

The other day I was on a walk enjoying the majestic beauty of the snow-capped mountains when I thought it would be fun to have-OKAY I ATE ALL OF THE PRETZEL BITES. THERE I SAID IT. I MADE TWO DOZEN (THAT'S 24) AND ATE THEM ALL BEFORE SLOAN WOKE UP FROM HIS HOUR-LONG NAP I AM DISGUSTING AND HAVE NO SELF CONTROL AND THAT'S WHAT WE DO IN AMERICA.

And Today's Specials...

2011-12-15T10:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, when he's feeling fancy, Ward wears his tuxedo shirt. Sloan thinks it makes Ward look like a waiter.

...so duct taping a paper plate to this baby's tiny hand is naturally the next step.

Unstoppable

2011-12-12T11:57:00.002-07:00

I'm about six pounds away from reaching my pre-pregnancy weight, and maybe I've been a little overambitious about getting back into my old clothes. Here is my experience told based off of the Challenge Accepted meme.

Craftmaster

2011-12-09T10:12:00.000-07:00

So a quick summary of the past couple of weeks: we got a Christmas tree and Ward rolled over and I did some laundry and there was this wind storm and Sloan made it into dental school or whatever but the BIG NEWS is that I made a hat! I made a hat! I made a hat from yarn! It was a beanie for Ward! And I didn't need any help! Just me, my yarn, and that lady on Youtube with her slow-motion crocheting videos!

I know in the picture the beanie looks just a little too big, but it's not. HAHA NOT AT ALL. He looks so normal in it and everything because it's so NOT too big for him!! LOL in fact it might be a little too small! Yeah! Way too small! It squeezes his little head so hard that his ears have stopped growing!! HAHA so it's definitely not too big okay?!

And no it never rolls up in weird ways that would make him look like a baby KGB agent or a tiny newsboy. That'd be totally stupid! And we wouldn't take him out in public with that sort of hat on!

But, if for some reason, we did take him out to a restaurant wearing his creepy hat, we'd probably give him some ice water through a straw to see how he liked it. But I don't even know why we're talking about this because that would never happen!!

Bless You

2011-12-07T15:02:00.001-07:00

Julia: oooohmanohmanohman, you missed Ward when he was trying to sneeze!!!! *happy clap*
Sloan: Oh...dang. Once in a lifetime.
Julia: Don't worry! I recorded it! Watch:

Julia: Cuuuute right?

Sloan: I'm sorry, I was so distracted by the fact that you called it "missing" a sneeze.

Julia: *sigh* Here we go...

Sloan: Well, it's just that people lose their sneezes, you know, like they lose their voice. They don't miss it like it's a train that they didn't get on. That would imply that they never had it in the first place.

Julia: Uh-huh. *standing up*

Sloan: And then you said it again after he lost the second sneeze. So it's not like the first time was a mistake on your part...

Julia: *leaves room*

Three Outta Four Ain't Bad!

2011-12-05T10:00:00.000-07:00

My parents have four children, three of which are talented, well-rounded people who have really accomplished a lot of good in their lives. Let's take a journey.

Richard

Has a PhD in...mathy-science stuff?? Formulas? A PhD in formulas? That doesn't sound right.
Fluent in Spanish because he spent 2 years in California giving people the religion.
Works for the government as something lower than the President BUT higher than a janitor.

Laura

Can clean anyone's teeth with her eyes closed (and sometimes does, so I've heard).
Could probably sew an award-winning quilt using only half a yard of fabric and a corn dog.
Is capable of repeating phrases an infinite number of times without losing patience. Phrases such as, "Now, [insert child's name] please do not [insert inappropriate behavior here]. Please go apologize using a full sentence. Thank you, and I love you."

Michelle

Dressed like Bob Ross for Halloween when she was six
Has, essentially, seen every natural square inch of Knoxville after only one semester at University of Tennessee
Actually hurt her neck while carrying a heavy load for her roommate that she insisted she carry

There they are. The good Moore's. But there is one child in that family who, according to relatives, "still needs a little work."

Julia

Played bass clarinet in high school (and was bad at it).
Has accidentally swallowed a rhinestone on more than one occasion.
Named her Dungeons and Dragons character Sheva Kardashian.
Has a Dungeons and Dragons character.
May or may not have been this woman (wasn't me, but LOL guys!!)
Spent a recent evening with Sloan looking at a published book of x-rays of people who had inserted items into their...out door (knives and forks, people??? NOT NATURAL):

Before you say anything about the video let me say these things:

Shoulda left the hair clip in (hindsight is 20/20, right folks?)
Ugh so boring.
I recovered so quickly from seeing the disturbing x-ray Sloan showed me from off-camera (phone) because I am brave and strong and the show had to go on.
This must be the first time I've ever seen my face from the side, because I am just realizing that my profile is iurftgurjriejkadsopekwadiuresf. But at least now I know.

Mr. Big Stuff

2011-12-04T18:23:00.000-07:00

So last week, I come home from a long day at work to find ~~my tiny baby~~ this kid holding his own bottle like he owns the place.

*scoff*

Well excuuuuuuuuuuuse me, "King Edward," I didn't "realize" that you "run" things now.

Ward, you may think you're some bottle-wielding hotshot, but until you do something like absent-mindedly eat an entire loaf of bread during a Lifetime movie, you're just another chump with a mediocre approach to eating. Get on my level.

And also, Ward, since you're reading this, will you tell your father something since he's not speaking to me right now? K, just let him know that I am still NOT sorry for being sorted into the Gryffindor house on our Harry Potter iPhone apps, even though he was not so fortunate. And I am also NOT sorry that I celebrated my assignment to Gryffindor by giving an impromptu acceptance speech in the living room, calling your father a "stanky gronk who aint done nuffin to git me where I am tuday" and then mooning him. It's not my fault he was sorted into *snooooooooooze* Oh wait...sorry, I must've fallen asleep when I tried to say Ravencl*snooooze* Ack! I did it again! Sorry, I guess that word is just so boring that I can't even say it without falling asleep!

Actual Family Fotos!!

2011-12-02T12:09:00.001-07:00

My bestie Holly was kind enough to take a few photos ala Family Rehder for us at the last minute so that I could put them in Christmas cards. Nothing like barging in to someone's home with a screaming baby to really make a friendship meaningful. But whatever, I mean, photography isn't hard, right? You just point and click and then you're done forever? So, you know what, Holly, thanks and everything, but I probably just could've done this with my iPhone. *sigh*

I originally posted these pictures in a much smaller size, but I just thought, more is more right? X-LARGE, please Blogger!

Each of these photos can pretty easily be sorted into one of two categories:

the Stepford Rehders vs. the Real Rehders

Stepford Rehders

Real Rehders

Stepford Rehders

Real Rehders

Note: The above photo is when Holly shouted, "DO NOT MAKE THE FROG FACE, JULIA."

Stepford Rehders

Real Rehders

?? Rehders ??

Just me and my blue-eyed boys.

This is what happened when we tried to take a serious hipster picture:

Also, Sloan likes to pretend like he and Ward are besties and that I'm the odd man out. Luckily he made a totally idiotic face while trying to alienate me in this picture :

Captain Appletop

2011-11-29T12:00:00.001-07:00

What do you get when you put these two things together?

A recorder

A Sloan

You get Captain Appletop, a saucy British detective who punctuates his sentences with the trills of a plastic wind instrument.

Sloan: Where's the remote?
Julia: *shrug* I haven't seen it for a couple of days. I actually thought you would know.
Sloan: Hmmm, nope. I havent seen it either. *sigh* *leaves room* *returns wearing old baseball cap and playing recorder* This sounds like a case for....Cap'n Appletop! *tootle toot toot*
Julia: Oh no. Don't star--
Sloan: No time for idle chatter, ladybird! There are crimes to be solved! Now, the most important question in finding this remote is: Why would you ever want to hide it from me in the first place?
Julia: *sigh*
Sloan: I mean, truly, you mustn't have thought I'd simply throw up my hands and resign myself to never finding it again after missing it for only a couple of days! *throws head back* HA! PREPOSTEROUS! *toot tootle toot*
Julia: Stop playing the recorder.
Sloan: *sideways glance*
Julia: *threatening glare*
Sloan: *slowly brings recorder to mouth*
Julia: *meaner glare*
Sloan: *toot*
Julia: That's it. I'm leaving you. And taking Ward with me.
Sloan: Who?
Julia: Ward. Your son.
Sloan: *furrowed brow* *taps temple* Ward Ward Ward? Oh! *snaps finger* You mean Private Bananabottom, my trusted assistant? I'm afraid he's useless without me.
Julia: Just sto-
Sloan: *tootle tootle toooooooooot*
Julia: I'm trying to talk to--
Sloan: *toooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot* Now, it seems like someone here is a little hostile. Perhaps she's realizing her evil plans are falling apart?! *toot toot tootootoot*
Julia: I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE REMOTE IS.
Sloan: Fine, I don't need your cooperation....just know that this isn't even close to being over, dear. *scowl* *toooootle toot*

I tried to surreptitiously record him with my phone, but like the stellar inspector that he is, the Captain figured it out before I got anything good.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

2011-11-29T11:57:00.000-07:00

This Thanksgiving, Sloan (27), Mikyn (21), Ward (0.3), and I (25) went to Logan to visit with Sloan's cousin Ryanne and her family. She has three kids who are so cute and so hilarious. We love them and they love...Sloan. Pretty sure they still don't know mine or Mikyn's names. Anyway.

The kids like "doing hair," so they sat Mikyn down to comb hers. A little background: Mikyn's hair is naturally blond and it's long. It's very pretty...and it had better be, because Mikyn's hair is her identity (Actual quote: "I'm really nervous about having a baby someday, because what if it's, like, ugly and has brown hair?")

WE GET IT OKAY

ANYWAY, after combing Mikyn's hair with an actual comb (not a brush) and styling it and restyling it and caressing it like a unicorn's tail, the kids thought it'd be fun to play with my hair.

Wrong.

My hair is thick, and in the bottom layers it has this bizarre waviness that is impervious to modern hair-flattening weaponry. It's nappy hair that is not easy to brush, let alone comb. In fact, I don't think I've ever gotten a comb through it from root to end. Some quotes:

Do you ever brush you hair? Because *grunt* this is pretty hard!
If I just...*grunt* pull it...harder...THERE! Got it!
*sigh* You know you really should brush your hair more often. (Eh...good point)

Things didn't get any more emotionally encouraging for me after GENIUS Sloan asked Ryanne's two-year-old girl, "Who's prettier? Mikyn or Julia?" and she thought for a second before pointing to Mikyn and whispering, "That girl."

Awesome.

Needless to say, for the remainder of the night I just stayed in the kitchen eating the last third of the cheesecake with my hands and pretending there was something in my eye.

On the way home:
Julia: *sigh*
Sloan: Baby, she only said that Mikyn was prettier because Mikyn was sitting a lot closer. You were across the room. She's not prettier than you!
Mikyn: Uh, hello? I'm in the car.
Julia and Sloan: Quiet, Mikyn.
Julia: You're Mikyn's brother, so of course you can't think she's pretty. That'd be weird!
Mikyn: Hey! I tell people that my brothers are good-looking all of the time!
Julia and Sloan: Quiet, Mikyn!
Sloan: Julia, she's two! Two-year-olds don't even know what pretty is! She just pointed at the first person she saw! You're prettier!
Mikyn: Come on, guys! I can hear you!
Julia and Sloan: Quiet, Mikyn!
Julia: Little kids are the most honest critics! A two-year-old will tell you what everyone else is thinking but not saying! Everyone knows that! That's why it's so awkward when they answer serious questions!
Mikyn: We're just both pretty, Julia.
Julia and Sloan: Quiet, Mikyn!! Julia to Sloan: *whispering* Ugh, she's the worst, amIright?

Note: I will delete all comments under this post that don't at least specifically say I'm pretty and Mikyn's ugly.

Spoiler Alert

2011-11-28T12:53:00.000-07:00

My having an English degree essentially means that over the course of four years, I paid an institution to tell me to read approximately 300 books and then write 300 essays...terrible, terrible essays. Awful essays. I wrote like an orangutan. But my professors always added such encouraging comments: "Nailed it! You are correct in stating that Boo Radley lacked sufficient social skills, Julia! I am so glad that those three years I spent in Namibia as a graduate student translating Emily Dickinson into Afrikaans have enabled me to land this sweet job as your Eng101 adjunct professor! By the way, I had to eat bugs! In Namibia!"

^ That was the long and not-as-humorous-as-I-had-hoped way of saying this: I've read a lot of books. Good books, bad books, worse books, book books, Garfield books, books titled How to Avoid Huge Ships. But I've never read Harry Potter. Why not? Let me break it down for you:

Julia's Reasons to Read Harry Potter	*Julia's Reasons Not* to Read Harry Potter**
Critical acclaim Massive and diverse fan base Easily accessible ...not like I'm doing anything else	It's 18,000 pages long

So there's that.

BUT did you know that each book has a movie??? Check AND mate!!

And I just watched all of them.

Sloan has patiently explained things to me along the way (he has read the books), which has meant mostly just reminding me over and over that Tom Riddle and Voldemort are the same person (it surprises me every time!!) Last week, we watched the final movie, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II. I took it a little hard.

Sloan: You need to get out of the tub now. It's been an hour and a half. The water is cold.
Julia: *head in hands* *sniff*
Sloan: I know you are just so sad about Snape.
Julia: *sinks under water*
Sloan: But Harry named his son after him! He finally understood the sacrifices that were made for him!
Julia: *gets out of tub* *flops on bed*
Sloan: *brings in towel* And you're right, it would've been nice if Lilly had loved him back, but things don't always work out that way.
Julia: *head in pillow* HE HELD HER LIFELESS BODY AND WAS JUST SO SAD AND THEN HE HAD TO WATCH AFTER THE BOY THAT SHE HAD WITH ANOTHER MAN AND THE BOY JUST HATED HIM BECAUSE HE DIDN'T KNOW THAT HE WAS A DOUBLE AGENT HELPING HIM AND HE CRIED WHEN HE DIED THE SNAKE BIT HIM SO MANY TIMES NO ONE LOVED HIM BUT I WOULD HAVE IF I HAD BEEN THERE I WOULD HAVE SEEN THE REAL SNAPE.
Sloan: But you wouldn't have--just...go to sleep.

My Advice to Young Women

2011-11-23T14:00:00.001-07:00

Please read my list titled: Things Women Should Stop Doing Because It's the Twenty-first Century and When People Say Things Like "Because It's the Twenty-first Century" It's Supposed to Explain Why They are Saying Whatever They are Saying

	Admiring Marilyn Monroe - When my elementary school teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I didn't answer "I wanna be pretty!" because, while that was true, I was smart enough to know that I should be embarrassed to give such a shallow answer, even as a little kid. (And besides TRASH MAN BECAUSE HELLO HANGING ON TO THE BACK OF A TRUCK.)
	Asking Dr. Oz how to lose weight - Dr. Oz episodes are a zero sum game, meaning: for every show he does about losing weight, that's one LESS show he can dedicate to things like extra toes and lazy eyes and conjoined twins and butt tumors and butt rashes and other interesting butt deformities. WE WANT MORE BUTTS.
	Hating sluts - Let sluts do what they want, they aren't hurting you! Besides, if those women didn't enjoy promiscuity, then the men that they are currently satisfying would be bothering the rest of us and may even be forced to go door-to-door. Why not just applaud them for being on the front lines?
	Avoiding science - People who are good at science MAKE ALL OF THE MONEY. Despite what you may hear from NO ONE, women can be scientists, too!!
	Spending more than $200 on any accessory or item of clothing (I know, I know...I hate this one too) - But the facts are undeniable: 1.Your ROI on clothes and accessories is basically zero, so keep the economic gluttony to a minimum. 2. For every Fendi handbag that you're dying to get, there are fifteen other handbags that are almost as cute and cost $3547843950743859 less. 3. Did you know that your money can buy things like clothes and food for sweet little babies in other parts of the world? I don't really get how it works, but apparently there are ways for your money to go through the internet to places like Rwanda and Cambodia! Technology these days!
	Writing quotes about boys - Photoshop should be used for more important things like putting Santa hats on rabbis or printing out fake coupons for free Big Macs to use at McDonald's.

Dear Rodney Dangerfield

2011-11-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

My name is Julia Rehder and I am a young, smart, and ~~good~~ medium looking woman who has a lot of potential. Throughout my life, I have had many people tell me that I am so funny and that I should be a professional comedienne. Here is a list of just a few of my fans:

my friend Kirie
my old boss Magarita
my mother
your mother (joke!)

I am hoping that you can share some of your comedy secrets with me, as I am trying to build up a solid foundation of jokes before I try to make it in showbiz. So tell me, where do you get your inspiration? Whenever I sit down to write funny things, I end up staring at my blank notepad for a while, then standing up to stretch, then trying to listen to the neighbors through the air vents, then eating a personal-sized watermelon, and then back to not writing any jokes! I am not getting anywhere with this method.

I first wrote an email to Gallagher asking for advice, but all I got was this in reply:

It was just, like, sent as an attachment. I don't think he knows that this is not the same as sending someone an autograph through the mail.

So then I wrote to Sinbad. He told me that every day when I write, I should use a comedy prompt to get things going, but I didn't really find it useful. No good feedback.

So, Mr. Dangerfield, I come to you seeking advice. How do you write jokes? And although I have heard from many reliable sources that you have been dead for six years, I figured I'd see if you could carve out some time for me anyway. Thank you for reading this!

Peace and Blessings,
Julia M. Rehder

The Many Faces of Wardo

2011-11-21T10:43:00.000-07:00

Like his father, Ward maintains a poker face when we are in public. But also like his father, when this baby is in the comfort of his own home, he gets ~~weird~~ fun!

Note: I was captioning these pictures with things like "Feeling grumpy!" and "Feeling sleepy!" when I realized that I was pretty much naming all of the seven dwarfs. So, you know. That's the direction in which I took things.

Happy

Sneezy

Bashful

Dopey

Grumpy

Sleepy

Dopey

DOPEY

*sigh*

Now You Know I am Southern

2011-11-18T11:10:00.001-07:00

Today, my Aunt Miriam (namesake) drove my Nanny and Papa the hour to Tullahoma, Tennessee to eat at the Cracker Barrel for Nanny's birthday.

Even though I'm fairly certain you have never accessed the internet once in your entire life, Nanny, I will still wish you a happy birthday right here on this blog. Be expecting my call this afternoon to discuss how the baked apples tasted this time around.

Other ways to tell that I am from the South:

I do not pronounce the words "pen" and "pin" differently (because seriously there is just no difference in the sound of those words okay I don't know what everyone else is hearing when they say it)
Mosquito bites aren't just mosquito bites; they are a lifestyle.
My friends' parents wouldn't let their kids associate with others unless those kids had "accepted Jesus into their life as their Savior and Redeemer"
My fourth grade teacher let us watch the OJ verdict in class and threw us a "Free at Last" pizza party when he was acquitted (this is not a joke)
I didn't know that wrastling was actually pronounced wrestling until I was about 13 years old

EDIT: Talked to Nanny and here are the updates:

"We got down there and just went wild at Cracker Barrel!"
"After eatin' everythin' in sight in Tullahoma, we got to shoppin'. I've just been celebratin' mah birthday all over the place!"
"I don't know if ya heard tha news or not, but I sent out mah Christmas cards yesterdee, so be on the lookout."
"I sure do appreciate this call, but I have got some birthday recoverin' to do, Juju."

Another Love Lost

2011-11-17T16:51:00.000-07:00

Sloan: I'm home! *sniff* Baby? did you pour apple cider into the humidifier again? Where are you?
Julia: *sob* In the bedroom.
Sloan: Uh oh. I kind of expected this. I'm guessing you heard the divorce news about Demi and Ashton?
Julia: WHYYYYYYYYY??? Everybody was rooting for them!! *sniff* They were soul mates!!
Sloan: I know, my poor baby. *pats Julia's head* Is this...Elton John playing?
Julia: Yeah...it's my playlist.

BathBathBathBath

2011-11-16T10:39:00.000-07:00

bath (bäth)

n. pl. baths (bäths)

1. The act of soaking or cleansing the body, as in water or steam.

2. A vessel of water, generally for the purpose of soaking.

3. A rigorous and passionate practice in splashdom for the baby Edward Richard Rehder.

It's Like He's Normal Now!

2011-11-15T13:00:00.000-07:00

Remember when Ward's tummy time looked more like an angry version of planking?

Well that was for babies. And Ward is not a baby anymore. He is a man (baby).

Also, from this angle, it looks like we might need to talk to a plastic surgeon about some sort of frontal cranial reduction so that his head won't make up 45% of his body.

...and That's Why You Should Never Get Married.

2011-11-13T14:40:00.001-07:00

Sloan: My doctor said that for the next two weeks that every time I pass gas, I need someone else to smell it to make sure it doesn't smell like ammonia.
Julia: What?! He did NOT say that!!
Sloan: Yes, he did! He said it's because I need to get an objective evaluation of the smell in order to monitor my colon health! And the only way to be sure is to have someone else smell my toots.
Julia: No doctor would ever say that, Sloan.
Sloan: What? Baby, farts may be funny, but they are also just a bodily function! Sometimes you need to be an adult about things!
Julia: I am not about to follow you around and take huge, scientific whiffs of your farts!!
Sloan: Listen to yourself! *biting lower lip* This is a really embarrassing and vulnerable position that I'm in, and I am humiliated enough just having to ask you to do this. I need your help, Julia. As my wife.
Julia: Are you...serious?
Sloan: *tearing up* Yes, Julia. I'm really scared and the doctor thinks that something could be wrong.
Julia: Oh my gosh, baby! I am so sorry! *rubs Sloan's back* Yes, I'll smell them! I'll make sure they don't smell like ammonia. We'll get through this together!
Sloan: *face in hands* Okay. *sniff* Thank you. I feel better...and actually, I can feel one coming right now. Will you...?
Julia: *gulp* Okay. Let's do this.
Sloan: *FAAAAAAAAAAART*
Julia: *trying not to gag* I think this one is *dry heave* fine. I don't smell any...wait, are you giggling?
Sloan: *hiding face* What? No! I'm... I'm crying! *sob*
Julia: OH HELL NO. You called into question my obligations as a WIFE to trick me into sniffing your farts!!!!!!!!
Sloan: *laughing uncontrollably*
Julia: *enraged* You're a monster! I'm putting this on the blog to humiliate you!! People will think you're disgusting and freakish!
Sloan: Ha!! You don't have the guts!

EDIT: Only after publishing this have I realized that Sloan was reverse-psychologying me into putting this up because he's actually quite proud of his prank.

WTF

2011-11-11T09:50:00.001-07:00

Now that Ward can (sortofbutnotreally) hold things, we give him a teething ring to play with. And by the amount of time he spends concentrating on getting it to do what he wants, I think it's like the infant equivalent to a Rubik's cube or something. He tries to bring it to his mouth, but he has to have some luck and a lot of momentum on his side in order to accomplish this. Eventually, the ring always ends up like this.

He's not coordinated enough to figure out how to get the ring back down. So, after about 30 seconds of struggle, I guess he just assumes it will just stay there forever and resumes his play while trying to look through his avant-garde baby goggles.

What does this mean about my baby? Is he a whimp? A quitter? Or perhaps just an idiot? I guess only time will tell.

Update:

This morning.

This evening.

Why Do I Even Try?

2011-11-06T22:03:00.004-07:00

Sloan wants me to start doing more normal stuff...like putting the ice cream back in the freezer and responding to his questions about my day and chewing my food adequately before I swallow it and taking care of the baby and not untaking caring of the baby, etc. He says I need to spend time on "worthwhile things," but if singing Selena Gomez songs and doing lunges in my bathing suit while the blinds are open is wrong, then I don't wanna be right.

And what about the special pictures of Ward that I adorned with my most beloved hip hop lyrics? NOT WORTHWHILE I GUESS. I'll just delete all of them because they're so non-worthwhile unlike taking a shower which is ultra important and must be done at least once a week or whatever this is so dumb seriously I hate this place no one appreciates the things I do for them which is everything because everything I do is for them.

Who to Trust?

2011-11-01T10:32:00.002-06:00

Dr. Phil,

It's me again, Ward Rehder. I wrote to you like a week ago and you still haven't answered me. And while my faith in you is waning faster than a member of Ted Haggard's congregation, I'm going to write you one more time...with a different issue.

It's about my dad.

I've been watching a lot of True Hollywood Story lately, and I've noticed a disturbing trend: extraordinarily cute & talented children are often taken advantage of by their parents. Lindsay Lohan, Gary Coleman, Malia Obama, etc. Their lives were ruined and their fortunes plundered by the very people who should have been their greatest advocates. Talent is to be respected, not exploited. Admired, not abused. Cherished, not ignored. Appreciated, not player-hated. Cultivated, not corn-holed. Seasoned, not spelunked. Delighted, not macaroni. Aerated, not Boxing Day. The beloved comedian Bob Hope, not handkerchiefs. Coconut bra, not Cracker Jacks poured into the gas tank of a self-propelled lawn mower. You get what I'm saying.

I know I'm no Gerber baby, so I won't rely on my looks. I plan on focusing my efforts on hitting all developmental milestones early to earn the extremely rare and coveted title of "gifted." Once this has happened, the media offers will start rolling in from various networks, maybe like Nickelodeon or PBS or even Fox News (fingers crossed!!). And as a baby who is acutely aware of his own potential, I am considering some preemptive action when it comes to who will be in my life once I hit the big time.

So I'm asking you: Should I dump my dad before my ascent to stardom?

My mother is a non-issue because she's rarely home, and when she is, she just sits on the floor pulling all the books down from the bookshelf and giggling. I do not see her as a threat. Dad, however, seems to have half a brain, which could be half too much, so I'm coming to you. I've thrown together a list of pros and cons for you to consider.

Good Dad

He gives me head massages. Because life can get so crazy so fast.
I have work deadlines, mortgage payments, and do NOT even get me
started on my ex-wife. Dad understands that I can't always be everything
to everyone. Sometimes I need a little time to recharge.

He gives me baths. Did I mention that I LOVE BATHS? I LOVE BATHS.
IN FACT, THE ONLY THING I LOVE MORE THAN
BATHS IS BATHS!!!

Brawn. When one lacks the strength and mobility alone to sit and
thoughtfully take in the framed pictures on the wall, a father
is incredibly useful.

Our cuddles. Some say that cuddles are for whimps, but those
people are ignorant and racist. Chauvinists. And murderers.

Bad Dad

Totally ignores me whenever Maury is on. A LITTLE
HELP, DAD. SINCERELY, YOUR SUFFOCATING BABY.

Tummy time is for chumps, which is what
Dad takes me for.

Public shaming under the guise of celebrating Halloween.

Grocery shopping. Like I have time for that.

Also, Dr. Phil, I've included a video of my father and me during one of our arguments. I feel it will help you better understand our family dynamic.

Thank you for reading this letter, Dr. Phil. I expect a prompt response, as we are both professionals, and I assume you have an understanding of how to maintain a cordial business relationship. I eagerly await your reply.

Sincerely,
Edward Richard Rehder

Family Update

2011-10-29T14:00:00.000-06:00

I realize that I don't ever talk about how things in the Rehder family are actually going. How are our lives? What are we doing? Welp, over the past few months, things have pretty much stayed the same:

Julia is still beautiful and intriguing.
Sloan is still *snooze*
And Ward is still just...lying on the floor.

Gazing with the urgent sincerity of a
boy band member.

Did I mention that I have a baby? I feel like maybe
I haven't said that enough yet on this blog. GOT A BABAY
AND HE'S JUST BEIN BABY BABAY

Identity Crisis

2011-10-27T13:00:00.000-06:00

Sloan: I think I'm gonna buy a new cover for the duvet.
Julia: Why? I just got that one like a year ago.
Sloan: I just...
Julia: It's a great duvet cover! And I got an awesome deal on it, baby. It's Pottery Barn damaged goods! Thank goodness for employees with--
Sloan: --poor box cutting skills, I know. It's just that...when I saw that picture you posted of me sleeping with my sword...I just...a man sleeping with his sword should be one of the most masculine moments in his life. But that fruity duvet cover ruined it.

Julia: So...you want a manlier blanket?
Sloan: Well, yeah.
Julia: Ugh. Listen: I'm the girl. I am in charge of the things like bedding. If it helps, don't think of it as your duvet, think of it as mine that you're borrowing.
Sloan: Oh yeah, that really cuts down on the emasculation.
Julia: And besides, what would make a blanket manly? Chainmail? Blankets are cuddly, and cuddly is inherently effeminate. Like a woman's bosom. Or her womb.
Sloan: I'd just like to not be wrapped in pink flowers every night.
Julia: And besides, I don't really know why, but duvet covers are freaky expensive! Maybe it has to do with inflation or the stocks of things? The Fed? I don't know how that stuff works, but what I do know is that even the cheap ones are more than zero dollars, and that's always too much for something you already have one of.
Sloan: Tell that to the thirty-two mismatching dinner plates that we own.
Julia: That is a collection.
Sloan: Twelve glitter pumpkins.
Julia: How could one ever do the job of twelve?
Sloan: Six sets of sheets.
Julia: Changing out sheets transforms the room!!
Sloan: I'm going to the store.
Julia: K. Get some sheets.

Ennui

2011-10-25T12:10:00.000-06:00

Dear Dr. Phil,

Hi, my name is Ward and I live in an apartment. I can't tell you where that apartment is, because (as you can see) while I know how to read and write, use the internet, and upload photos of myself, I can't tell you where I live because I don't totally understand the concept of states. No, I GET that they are constitutional territories that form part of a federal union (I'm not an idiot), I just don't understand the nuances of their powers in relation to the federal government. That and I can't actually name any states yet. Buttercream? Is that a state? Or maybe Van Halen? I feel like that's a state.

Anyway, Dr. Phil, I was wondering if you could help me out. I was born in July and things were pretty great for a while. I got to sleep and eat all of the time, people were quiet, there was a lot of watching Judge Alex. It was summer and always sunny. Mom didn't shower, Dad didn't sleep, and I didn't have a care in the world.

But now it's October and things have changed.

I think I've got the depression.

I mean, I'm fine, I guess. I don't know. It's just that there are leaves everywhere and it's windy and my parents are making me wear this stupid hat that looks like a pumpkin, which makes EVERYONE stop and talk to me like I care what they're saying.

Yes, I know. So cute. Move along.

And Mom went back to work, so I'm stuck at home with Dad, and he doesn't lay around watching Divorce Court or even The View (!!!). He cooks and cleans and studies and tries to sing songs to me. And, even when we do stuff that I like, I...well...I don't know, Dr. Phil, it's just that nothing sounds fun anymore. Not eating, not bath time, not even chewing on stuff. It's all totally boring.

Blah.

Anyway, I saw the show last week where you helped that obese woman get back into the dating game, and it really inspired me. Just like you, I thought she was a hopeless case at first, but you really turned her life around. And if you can help her, I just know you could help me. Right?

You gotta help me, Dr. Phil. I just...feel like...nothing. *sigh* Whatever. You know what? Forget it, just forget I ever sent this letter. It's worthless. No, it's not. I am. I'm worthless.

Julia's Kraft Korner

2011-10-24T12:45:00.000-06:00

*ahem* Hello, and welcome to Julia's Kraft Korner: Where krafts are in the korner. Today, I will be showing you how to make a mobile for your ~~maniac of a child who must be constantly entertained while awake or his incessant crying will cause you to stuff loofahs into your ears and crawl head first into a sleeping bag~~ little rugrat!

Here are the materials you will need:

Sticks
Yarn
Hammer or hammer-like substitute (such as canned food, phone book, mostly full gallon of milk, etc.)
Christmas ornaments
Dental floss
More yarn (because you probably didn't get enough the first time)

Step 1: Pour cranberry-flavored Crystal Light into a wine glass and pretend to get drunk.

Step 2: Stand on couch while holding wine glass and explain/slur to your mate that you are feeling "the primal urges of my human soul compelling me to create."

Step 3: Try to paint a landscape using nail polish on a piece of cardboard; if the work is proving insufficient in bringing forth any elan vital, break it over your knee in an angst-fueled rage. Note: Up until this point, you must not have put down your wine glass at any time.

Step 4: Buy sticks from Hobby Lobby, then come home and turn on Dancing with the Stars.

Step 5: Stack sticks on stop of each other in opposing directions, making what should look like a real-life asterisk.

Step 6: Text friend about Ricki Lake's cha-cha routine (Love Ricki!! It's because she keeps her performances so honest.)

Step 7: Try to drive a nail through the center of stick asterisk to hold sticks together. Note: If you lack the upper body strength to nail the sticks together, pour some more wine and stand in front of your bathroom mirror berating yourself until you find the strength within. Googling "exercise htre arms for woman pleaase" may or may not help in this process.

Step 8: Order pizza.

Step 9: When pizza arrives, pull wad of cash out from the elastic waistband of your maternity jeans and hand the delivery boy a semi-soggy five dollar bill.

Step 10: Fist pump to yourself when he says you can keep the fiver (wheelin and dealin, baby!).

Step 11: Once you have eaten the entire pizza by yourself, return to your project. Wrap your stick asterisk with yarn instead of painting it, because seriously, paint is overrated (see Steps 3 & 6).

Step 12: Blah blah blah floss blah blah hang ornaments blah yougettheidea blah blah.

Step 13: Drink more wine and recall the Christmas of 2009 when your niece kept calling them "hornaments" and no one corrected her because it was too funny.

Step 14: Hang completed mobile from either a hat rack or a broken floor lamp (if the latter, cover it with a pashmina to class things up a bit).

Step 15: Spin mobile vigorously to test its structural integrity.

Voila! Now you're a great mom!
(And I'm sorry I don't say that more often. You really are a treasure.)

Note: You may need to reconsider the engineering of the mobile if the ornaments are being consistently propelled across the room when the mobile is spun. However, you could just deal with flying ornament problem later if it's unlikely that they'll actually hit the baby in vital areas, such as the face or groin.

I'm not a robot

2011-10-20T14:00:00.001-06:00

Because sometimes it's been a long day and you've made a mess in the living room because you tried using some sort of strong spray adhesive to cover your shoes with glitter so you had to open the windows to air out the place and then the baby was cranky so you had to stand up and rock him while watching The Biggest Loser and things got pretty emotional because Bonnie was having a rough time hiking but Mike stepped in and helped her climb the big hill even though they were equally tired and in the meantime your no-good husband won't listen to you as you try to explain the emotional parts of the show and instead uses his phone to take a picture of you during a weak moment and by the way your nose is red and you're feeling fat.

Cultural Fusion

2011-10-17T11:00:00.000-06:00

I was in a meeting at work and the woman next to me had a rotation of cutesy images as her desktop background. Baby otters hugging, a tiger cub in a basket, yawning kittens, wet puppies, etc.

Because my fresh as hell image is an important part of my life, I should be all like, "Psssh, horsies? Pocket kitten? So pedestrian."

But I can't fight this. I DO think that a poster of a baby sitting in a paint can and clapping for joy is undeniably adorable. I do. And I WOULD like to hang it in my room to look at on rainy afternoons when nothing else seems to be going my way. But as much as I like uncool stuff, I still really want to be cool, like hipster cool. I want to be cool like Ira Glass. I want to be cool like Brooklyn. Cool like big scarves and buying local. Cool like Scott Pilgrim and atheism and men's v-necks. Antiques. Existential angst. Sea salt.

This is what hipsters look like, Mom.

I love babies playing saxophones and kittens hanging on to a wire with the caption "Hang in There!!" But I have also fallen for the charms of irony, and now I want to wear Ray Bans and draw pictures of lumberjacks. Dilemma. ANYWAY, I'm not just a thinker, I'm a doer:

Ideas for Posters of Animals in Wacky Situations That Hipsters Will Like

Hamster wearing horn-rimmed glasses while reading "Catcher in the Rye"
Steampunk panda
Tiger cubs in suspenders feeding on a Republican.
Baby monkey playing ukelele version of "Smells Like Teen Spirit"
Clown fish with handlebar mustache riding a bike with a basket on the front
Baby snakes at an Arcade Fire concert
Bunnies in fishnets and vintage lingerie
Prairie dog in Vans and an American Apparel hoodie high-fiving a Corgi at the Occupy Wall Street protest
Armadillo eating a gluten-free cookie

I don't want to jinx it, but I really think I'm getting there.

I'll get there.

I can feel it.

Another masquerade post

2011-10-16T15:07:00.002-06:00

Who knew that so much love, laughter, dancing, illumination, revelry, triumph, frivolity, and living could come out of preparing for one little masquerade? Oh, life!

Julia: I want Ward to have a mask, but he'll just get mad and pull it off. Will you draw one on him with my eyeliner?
Sloan: *sigh*
Julia: Pleeeeease? He will be SO CUTE and everyone will be impressed with how well we are able to parent whilst maintaining a youthful, edgy image by doing something unconventional with our newborn!
Sloan: He won't like it.
Julia: But really, does he like anything? He's a wet blanket.
Sloan: Touche.
*five minutes later*
Sloan: Baaaaby! Meet your new masked man!
Julia: Oh dear...

Sloan: Isn't he so cute?
Julia: Well...yeah. I just--
Sloan: Here! Take a picture with him!
Julia: It didn't really turn out how I thought it--
Sloan: Say cheese!!!

Sloan: Oh come on! Let's see that smile!

I love my little juggalo.

P.S. Here we are in the masks we made (Julia: Shiny; Sloan: Creepy) with our friend Holly. Thanks, Holly!

Takes a creep to know a creep

2011-10-15T10:00:00.000-06:00

Good: My friend Kira and her baby son Jeff have the same birthday!!! Cuuuuuute!
Good: Their birthday party is going to be a masquerade!
Bad: The masks I bought to decorate make Sloan and I look like we have...like...a genetic disorder.
Good/Bad?: Ward likes it when we wear them...?

I miss my babies

2011-10-13T09:04:00.000-06:00

Just minding my business at work.

Text from Sloan

P.S. Other photos I get while Mr. Mom takes care of Mr. Baby:

Winter is Coming

2011-10-10T11:41:00.002-06:00

Currently, Sloan is reading Game of Thrones, a fantasy book about like, dragons and warrior men and clans or whatever.

Did I ever mention before that Sloan likes fantasy? Probably not, because it's embarrassing. Does he play Dungeons & Dragons? Has he tried to learn Elvish? Did he hold up a map of Middle Earth in his high school's group senior picture? These are questions that will be met with silence. (But really, doesn't the silence say it all?)

Anyway, Sloan got a good amount of reading in on Saturday, and as is the case when he reads/watches anything fantasy, it made him obnoxious and insane for the rest of the day. After spending the majority of the night speaking with a (surprisingly good...) Irish accent, Sloan decided that my yelling at him to "Shut your creepy mouth or I swear I will take this baby and start a new life as a cocktail waitress in Reno," just wasn't as gratifying as it used to be. And so, like the warrior he is, he pushed on.

Before you read the following, you should also know this: Sloan keeps an imitation katana under his side of the bed "for protection." What's a katana, Julia? Well, you totally dumb reader, it's a Japanese samurai sword. These days, katanas are owned mostly by the "quiet type" teenage boys who draw disturbing pictures and argue over things like hit points and warrior classes.

Exhibit A

NOW ON TO THE STORY!
The Scene: In bed, falling asleep. Even Sloan's breathing somehow sounds Irish.
Sloan: *sits ups* Woman. Did ya hear that?
Julia: That squeak?
Sloan: Aye.
Julia: *sigh* It was just the bed when you were turning over.
Sloan: Methinks something is afoot. *slips out of bed, crouches*
Julia: I think you're confusing Shakespeare with...never mind. And what? No one is in the house. I just went through and turned off the lights. The doors are locked. It was the bed.
Sloan: *holding sword* You stay here. *strokes Julia's cheek* There's no need fer a woman tah see what's about tah happ'n.
Julia: *ignoring*
*five minutes later*
Sloan: *putting sword back in its sheath* Woman, wake up. Arise!
Julia: *not moving*
Sloan: You should know...*leans on sword* I found no one in our beloved home.
Julia: *ignoring*
Sloan: But *dramatic sigh* because winter is coming, I shall keep Ev'nfall close this night.
Julia: I am not asking you what that means.
Sloan: *climbs into bed* Ahhhhh. *scratches chest* Sweet sleep awaits me this autumn evenin'.
Julia: Don't tell me what Ev'nfall is. I do not ca--
Sloan: *loudly* Ev'nfall is mah sword, woman! *pulls sword out from under comforter*
Julia: You named it? It's not even the right kind of swor--
Sloan: *throws head back* HAHAHA, silly girl!! *head shake* All good swords have names.
Julia: *silence*
Sloan: Now, quiet lass. *puts finger on Julia's lips* We slumber.
Julia: I wasn't even talk--
Sloan: SILENCE, WENCH.

The End.

P.S. Many people think the Sloan stories aren't true. Oh they are YOU BETCHA. And he is skilled at these games; he will stay in character for DAYS until he ~~wakes up to me holding a pillow over his face~~ is through having his fun. And the above character in the above story was no different. In fact, the following day, when we were going to take our Sunday afternoon nap, Sloan got in bed first and meant only to hold this until I came in and got sufficiently annoyed. However, I continued messing around on my computer for quite a while and he actually fell asleep like this. That mistake is major because I could have never gotten this photo otherwise, and he would have done what he always does after I tell stories about him: vehemently denied everything to everyone and treated me like a mental patient while everyone else laughs nervously at our bickering. HA NOT THIS TIME, ARAGORN WILLIAM WALLACE STARK OR WHOEVER YOU THINK YOU ARE. Gotchaaaaaaaa! Don't it hurt yaaaa...

Yarn ≥ Meth

2011-10-09T08:20:00.000-06:00

Sloan: *walks in front door* Hey bab--oh my...yarn.
Julia: DID SOMEONE SAY YARN?? *fist pump* YARN! YARN! YARN!
Sloan: You've been busy...
Julia: *still fist pumping* YARN WREATH! YARN WREATH!
Sloan: I see that. It's very cute.
Julia: *singing* MY YARN WREATH BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARRRD. *dancing with yarn wreath*
Sloan: Okay, just calm--
Julia: AND THEEEY'RE LIKE...IT'SBETTERTHANYARRRN
Sloan: Just--
Julia: *wearing yarn wreath around neck* DAMN RIGHT IT'SBETTERTHANYARRRRN. I COULD YARN YOU, BUTI'DHAVETOYARRRRN.
Sloan: You need to sto--
Julia: *Shania Twain impersonation* MAN! I YARN LIKE A WUMAN! *tips yarn wreath like cowboy hat*
Sloan: Where is our baby?
Julia: *Snoop Dogg impression* SMOKE YARN EVERYDAY.
Sloan: Why is Ward asleep in your yarn basket?
Julia: *slow air guitar* DROVE MAH CHEVY TO THE LEVEE BUT THE LEVEE WAS YARN.
Sloan: And where are your pants?
Julia: *asleep on floor*

Well that explains it...

2011-10-04T14:40:00.002-06:00

Ward is just like his daddy. Only less self-aware about it. We get to hear this about 15 times a day...just listen:

Dr. Farnsworth: Looks like Ward is growing at a perfect rate. Great weight gain!
Julia: Yay! I knew those protein shakes were working!
Dr. Farnsworth: Wait, protein shakes? For him?
Julia: Oh, HAHA, no don't worry! I also give him some of my fries when I go to McDonald's. *serious face* You know, for the carbs.
Dr. Farnsworth: *vigorous head shake* No, no, no. He shouldn't be eating those things.
Julia: Listen, doctor. I don't buy that whole "Atkin's Diet" thing, and neither should you! It's a scam! Dr. Oz had a debunking episode on it last week, I'll send you the link.
Dr. Farnsworth: No, Mrs. Rehder, listen to me: Ward shouldn't be eating any solids.
Julia: Stop giving food to my baby? Is this some sort of sick joke?
Dr. Farnsworth: Only give him your milk. That's all he needs, and it's all he can handle.
Julia: Well, sir, I beg to differ! I'll have you know that he finished off an entire pack of Twizzlers in less than an hour yesterday!
Dr. Farnsworth: Oh dear.

Boom Boom WOW!

2011-09-29T16:18:00.003-06:00

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.

No Shame Here

2011-09-28T11:00:00.000-06:00

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.

This Old Thing...?

2011-09-26T22:14:00.001-06:00

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!

sPaRkLe TiMe

2011-09-25T12:57:00.000-06:00

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!)

WHEN I SAY GLITTER YOU SAY OWL!

GLITTER! (OWL!)

GLITTER! (OWL!)

15 to Go

2011-09-19T11:46:00.003-06:00

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.

(S)HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL

2011-09-12T13:25:00.000-06:00

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.

Parental Visitation

2011-09-07T11:56:00.000-06:00

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 :(

Gluttony!

2011-09-06T15:47:00.000-06:00

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*

Moments in Art

2011-09-05T18:26:00.000-06:00

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.

Family Portrait

2011-08-29T21:10:00.002-06:00

The Rehders in their element(s): Ward being uncooperative, Julia being pretty, and Sloan straight up creepin.

Thanks Holly.

My Baby's Got Talent!

2011-08-23T19:32:00.000-06:00

Julia: I'VE GOT AN IDEA AND IT'S GOING TO MAKE WARD FAMOUS.
Sloan: Already sounds terrible.
Julia: TWO WORDS: VIRAL....*thinky face*...STUFF...!?!
Sloan: Like disease?
Julia: NO LIKE ON THE INTERNET.
Sloan: Do you need to yell?
Julia: LOOK AT THESE BOYS. THEY'RE ADORABLE AND GOT ON TV FOR THIS:

Sloan: That is really cute.
Julia: I'VE ALREADY GOT MY FIRST VIDEO OF WARD READY TO SEND OUT INTO THE CYBERPLACE.
Sloan: I think it's called cyberspace.
Julia: QUIET OKAY IT'S STARTING.

Photo Dump!!

2011-08-20T14:16:00.000-06:00

Everyone else's blogs have tons of pictures of their beautiful selves and their beautiful families going to carnivals and leisurely hiking Mt. Kilimanjaro or whatever. So I went through my phone and found some good ones, too! Of course, these pictures come complete with jokey captions that sound like they were written by a 60 year old Methodist geometry teacher. Welcome to Happy Rehder Dayz.

Take One: Big nose and fright face.

Take Two: Fat face and sheer panic.

Gestational meltdown at the Arby's drive through
(WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ONLY HAVE
THREE APPLE TURNOVERS LEFT)

He just wanted to touch Ward's soft hair.

What we see 75% of the time we
FaceTime with Pam

I like to sleep in the same way I like to ~~party~~ bathe: naked!

Taking my trip on the labor train.

Matt relaxes while Kenley looks like a tsunami
washed her onto shore.

Me, 20 pounds ago.

You can't tell, but his laxative just kicked in.

Trial and Error

2011-08-17T15:57:00.000-06:00

There is an unopened bag of chips sitting next to me. There is an infant sleeping precariously on my lap. SOPHIE'S CHOICE OR WHAT.

Ward is cranky/needs attention/a drama queen. He seems like he might be kind of a jerk, because I'm pretty sure if given the choice between a pacifier and an end to war and famine, he'd choose the pacifier. What kind of person does that? I'll tell you: a selfish one. And seriously who knows, he could be a racist or chauvinistic or worse...a vegan. We'll find out once he starts talking. In the mean time, we have to try to keep him calm, which is all of the time because he loves to cry. Strategies (color coded for your convenience...effective/ineffective):

Julia - Cuddle him like a baby doll!

Sloan - Blow in his face.

Julia - Cuddles! He loves his mommy! Yes he does!!

Sloan - Remove baby's clothes and watch tv.

Julia - What kind of robot baby doesn't love mommy cuddle snuggle hugz??

Sloan - Cry back into his face during a fit.

Julia - Why doesn't this baby love me? WHY NO CUDDLE?

Sloan - Hold him upright to look at the pictures on the wall for extended periods of time.

I could go on, but you probably get the idea. Our parental journey continues!

Good Parenting!

2011-08-16T14:59:00.002-06:00

Sloan: *walks in door* I'm home! Ready to go get dinner?
Julia: Yeah! *fist pump* I brushed my hair, Febreezed my clothes and I already put Ward in his car seat!
Sloan: Good work. What are you watching? *sigh* You're watching The First 48 again?
Julia: It's good!!
Sloan: Baby, it's a reality crime show. They show real dead bodies and stuff!! It's too dark.
Julia: Oh come ON it's not that bad.
Sloan: And you're letting Ward watch it?
Julia: *furrowed brow* I wouldn't really say that I'm "letting him watch it." I just turned his car seat in the direction of the tv. BESIDES, he's a month old! He doesn't know what a dead body is!

Everybody Poops

2011-08-13T11:38:00.000-06:00

Just Another Wednesday!!!!!!!!!

2011-08-10T22:30:00.000-06:00

TO DO

Wash Sloan's work shirts.

Get the mail.

Unload dishwasher.

Don't cry while watching Dr. Phil.

Seriously just get the mail it's not that far.

Give Ward a bath.

Read parenting book.

Send check to insurance company.

TO DONE

Put clothes on top of washer.

Don't get the mail.

Do not enter kitchen. All day.

Cry watching Sarah McLachlan dog commercial.

I don't want to have to put on my bra and shoes just
to go get the mail so get off my back okay.

Smell Ward's armpits (no stink!) Call it good.

Google Judge Alex.

Write letter to Judge Alex.

The Great Escape

2011-08-08T17:57:00.000-06:00

This tiny person is a wiggler. Big wiggler. Not that I hadn't already figured that out while pregnant with him. I have to admit though, as annoying as his wiggling is, it is still quite...impressive.

He can roll over already. AWESOME. This really alleviates all of my fears of him getting wedged under the dryer or rolling off of a cliff. At least for now, he does it only when he gets supremely pissed, though. Figured that one out at the doctor's office when he got mad enough to roll off of the exam table right into Dr. Farnsworth's arms. I can't blame him, though, trying to get away from those cold old man hands.

This baby cannot sleep well unless he's swaddled...but here's the rub: he hates being in a swaddle. This situation marks my first parental experience of I-KNOW-YOU-DON'T-LIKE-THIS-RIGHT-NOW-BUT-TRUST-ME-IT'S-FOR-THE-BEST-SO-CALM-DOWN-CHILD frustration. But even when I win the wrestling match and strap him into his velcro-powered swaddling blanket, he doesn't given up the fight (all while maintaining his poker face).

Annoying.

So annoying.

S.O. A.N.N.O.Y.I.N.G.

What Does It Meeeean?

2011-08-05T15:21:00.001-06:00

So one time I read somewhere that babies like music or whatever and that listening to it turns them into baby geniuses. However, when I tried playing various musics for Ward, he didn't really seem into it.

When I tried playing Lady Gaga, I got this:

Then Beyonce:

Switching gears. Regina Spektor?

Belle & Sebastian:

Elliot Smith:

(I kinda get the Elliot Smith dis. He's a pretty big bummer to listen to.)

Realizing that littlest man was not a pop maniac nor a pseudo hipster, I moved on.

Fleetwood Mac:

Beck:

The Cure:

Hrrrrrrm. I also went ahead and played every song all the way through from Shaq Diesel, Shaquille O'Neal's debut rap/hip hop album, to make sure there wasn't at least one hook Ward liked. I won't show you the pictures of those reactions, because frankly, they were disturbing.

Well, after we both recovered from Ward's ShaqRevolt 2011, there was still one genre left for me to try. I personally love it, but figured Ward would not be old enough to appreciate (kids these days) this music. Turns out he must be something of an old soul.

Ray Charles:

Aloe Blacc:

Nicki Minaj:

Sorry, baby. Cruel joke. Go back to sleep...

Amos Lee:

Earth, Wind & Fire:

Babies can really be a true litmus test for those of you wondering if you have good taste in things such as music, food, clothes, and movies. Next, I plan on showing Ward each of the seven Saw movies to find out which one he likes best. Excited!!

SHINE ON YOU CRAZY DIAMOND

2011-08-04T00:02:00.005-06:00

Not many people know this, but I like shiny things. Gems, glitter, prisms, well-polished metals, anything that has facets (even metaphorical kinds) is my friend. Best friend!

Rhinestones are my favorite of all, always have been. In fact, my first "shoplifting" experience involved picking up a purple rhinestone the size of my palm that had broken off of a brooch at the Dollar Tree. Slipped it in my purse (because seriously MOM, Dollar Tree did not care) then proudly showed it to mother after we left. She gasped like a mother in law from one of those romantic comedies when the bride decides not to say I do at the alter, then delivers a tender diatribe about following her heart while the groom nods understandingly and has a faint tear of acceptance in his eye.

Anyway, back to my story, I still think about how different my life would have been had mom not made me go back into the store and place the rhinestone where I found it on the ground by the rack of jewelry (that term being used loosely since this was a dollar store). Would I still be where am I now? Or would that gem have butterfly effect-ed me to being something like the CEO of Microsoft? Secretary of State? Perhaps a hip hop mogul? Could I have been spending my days drinking champagne with people like Mischa Barton and my favorite singer/actress Debbie Gibson?

But I digress.

If there are two things in this world that I love, it's shine and muumuus. Reading that word with my eyes makes me feel like I'm on the verge of a seizure. Muumuus. WHY CAN'T I JUST STAY ON TOPIC MAYBE IF I TYPE IN ALL CAPS AND DENY MYSELF THE TREACHEROUS LUXURY OF PUNCTUATION IT WILL FORCE ME TO GET TO THE POINT WHICH IS THIS MY MOM SENT ME AN AWESOMELY CUSTOM-MADE MUUMUU TODAY:

DO YOU LIKE

METHINKS YOU DO

IT AIN'T MY BURFDAY BUT I GOT MAH
NAME ON THE CAKE - LIL WAYNE

WHIMSICAL MUUMUU FROM A
JAUNTY ANGLE

HIPSTER MUUMUU FROM A HIPSTER APP

SO WHEN I GOT THIS IN THE MAIL I REMEMBERED THE CONCLUSION THAT I HAD DRAWN SO LONG AGO AS A LITTLE GIRL:

ALL THINGS ARE BETTER WITH RHINESTONES

FOODS TASTE BETTER!

RELIGIONS ARE TRUER!

PHONES RING CLEARER

BABIES
ARE
HAPPIER

Much like television, recreational drugs, and speed boats, rhinestones are an essential part of your happiness!

Are You Sick of This Baby Yet?

2011-07-29T12:35:00.005-06:00

I already know the answer to that: NO I AM NOT SICK OF WARD is the answer if you're a woman/relative of ours. YES BABIES ARE ACTUALLY PRETTY BORING if you're a dude/stranger.

See? Even though now I'm a parent, I'm still down with non-parents. I get it, I'm cool. Down with the jiggy.

Moving on.

Sloan is a good daddy.

Sure he does things like hold the baby upside down by his ankles until he's inconsolable. And maybe he goes a little too far with the cutesy insults ("you adorable little son of a..."), but he's a good dad...deep down. Right? Or something like that. For example, he'll actually nap with the baby, which is probably one of the hardest and most stressful activities for a new parent. Unlike most new dads, he won't even hesitate to take up that task. HOW LUCKY AM I???

Workin hard or hardly working AMIRIGHT?

Buuuuuuuuuut really folks *serious face* Sloan is the man. The man. When baby Ward came home, his daddy wanted to show him the ropes.

The top of the stairs

This was really good, because before we came home, Ward confided in me that he was nervous about living in a new house. He kept asking me about the layout of the apartment, what his room looked like, general square footage, etc. It's almost like Sloan knew.

VERY IMPORTANT UPDATE: Ward's previously reported sleep position is officially his preferred. See the following exhibits:

Daytime Television

2011-07-22T22:03:00.000-06:00

Now that I'm on maternity leave, I'm remembering why I never really enjoyed staying home from school when I was little: daytime tv is terrible.

But it's so good.

How can something be so wrong when it feels so right?

I can't help but break things down when it comes to how these networks all target their audiences with the same stuff. This is probably because I'm a trained market analyst (no I'm not). Here are just the shows I watch, no biggie.

Clucking Hens: The View, Today, Good Morning America, The Talk, All local Utah programming
"I'm ready for my close up" medical experts: Dr. Oz, The Doctors, Dr. Phil
Diverse Relatables: Tyra, Rachael Ray, Oprah, Ellen, Nate Berkus
Defenders of Justice: Judge Judy, Divorce Court, Judge Joe Brown, People's Court, Swift Justice, and (my personal favorite) <3 Judge Alex <3

Permission to approach the bench?

And let's not forget one last category, the most important of them all:

The Greatest Show of All Time and Thus Cannot Be Categorized Nor Can It Be Compared To/Associated With Any Other Show: Maury

DID I HEAR SOMEONE SAY EPISODE LIST?

Can You Save Me? I Am Terrified of Cotton Balls and Frogs!
Does Derrick Have 26 Kids... The DNA Results Are In!
Is My Wife Cheating With My Step-Sister Again?
Rodeo Romeo Love Swindler
That Hickey Came from the Dog...I Didn't Cheat!
You Said You Loved Me. Why Did You Try To Kill Me?

I love Maury, but before I got pregnant I could honestly say that I had never cried watching an episode. I can still say that...but not honestly. It's suddenly overwhelmingly sad when a guest finds out her husband isn't her baby's daddy after that one night stand she had while he was away on business. It's sad when a guest says she eats four rolls of toilet paper a week. Sad when a transvestite just wants to wear fabulous clothes but gets harassed by his sisters. Today, I cried when a woman left her 22 year old husband after he had an affair with their 62 year old mail lady. He just seemed so sad and like he was so sorry and the audience was booing when he came out and she was so mad and crying and the mail lady had a lazy eye and the wife stormed off the stage but where was she even going it was all too much.

Of course, I've just been crying a lot. Today I cried when I was folding Ward's tiny clothes BECAUSE THEY ARE SO TINY. I cried when Sloan gave me a back rub last night. I cried when I realized my thighs rub together when I walk. I cried while thinking about my dad's birthday tomorrow and how much I love that guy and just miss him. I cried when Ward fell asleep with his arms like this:

Stayed tuned for a later post about the commercials of daytime tv. Think bra infomercials and technical college.

Babaytime

2011-07-20T20:31:00.000-06:00

His name is Edward Richard Rehder (covered both grandpas with that one) and we call him Ward. He's a good littlest man; he loves cuddling, his daddy, and eating. And eating. DID I MENTION EATING HAHA. But more importantly, I have a baby now, which makes me legit. Listen to all of the lessons I've learned about babies and having them:

Sometimes, it'll be necessary to spend a couple of hours of your labor on your hands and knees so the baby won't be in distress. It won't be that hard, but all of the doctors and nurses will think you are Wonder Woman for some reason and shower you with compliments. Just go with it.
The nurses in labor and delivery will hook you UP with those little packages of Lorna Doone Shortbread cookies. You can eat an astounding amount of those before you feel ill.
One word: blood. Everywhere. Everywhere. For days. You will feel hardcore (because you are).
The first night at home with the baby, your inner voice will convince you that if you stop looking at/monitoring your sleeping infant, he will immediately die, whether it be from suffocation or a meteor hitting the house. So you'll stay up and cry until five in the morning when your husband carefully leads you to the bedroom while you cry into a burp rag. The baby will be fine.
Newborn farts sound like cartoon farts.
After you have your kid, you'll still look 6 months pregnant until your organs return to their original size. Pass the Spanx! LOL Ha! Still fat! OMG too funny!!
You will think everything that baby does is the most amazing and wonderful thing that has ever been thinged.

YUMMERS!!!!!!

2011-07-12T21:09:00.000-06:00

I'm in love with and married to a multi-faceted and mysterious man.

A man who can fix car things like power windows and coolant...stuff. A man who watches So You Think You Can Dance. A man who lifts heavy things for me, but only if I have a good reason now after figuring out that I wanted the living room rearranged just to see his muscles.

A ski instructor. A man who has explained the concept of electricity to me about seven times. An Alaskan. An athlete. A man who always beats me at crosswords, because somehow he knows things like the Latin word for pants.

A man who speaks funny-sounding Spanish. A man who wears velcro Dr. Scholl's shoes with J.Crew pants. A culinary artist.

Early in our courtship:
Julia: It smells good in here! What are you making?
Sloan: Cheese beaner bacon.
Julia: Cheese, bean, or bacon?
Sloan: No, not "or." It's all of them. Cheese beaner bacon.
Julia: Is that supposed to sound racist?
Sloan: What?
Julia: Guess not. What's in it?
Sloan: Well, ya take a piece of bread. You pour a can of pork and beans on it.
Julia: Oh dear.
Sloan: And then you cover it with shredded cheddar. Fry up some bacon, put it on top. Then throw it all in the oven for a little while, until the cheese is nice and melted.
Julia: I don't...
Sloan: I came up with it myself. It's my go-to meal.
Julia: Of course it is. You eat this meal frequently and can still fit into MY pants. Makes total sense.

Just yesterday:
Julia: You making cheese beaner bacon, baby?
Sloan: Yeah, sort of. We don't have bacon, so I'm using a hot dog.
Julia: HEY YOU SHOULD CALL THAT CHEESE BEANER WIENER!!!!!
Sloan: *unimpressed* No, Julia. It's cheese beaner bacon with a hot dog substitute. That's what it's called.
Julia: Oh...okay. Yeah. *stares at ground* Hey! I want to take a picture of this for the blog. I have friends who don't believe me that you actually eat this.
Sloan: What? No, don't take a picture. No one cares. Stop it--I'm not...put down the camera. I'm not--fine, I'll set it down and you can take a picture. I don't wanna be in it.

Did I mention he also watches Top Chef?
That must have some sort of meaning.

So, here it is folks.

Here it is.

Adjusting

2011-07-06T15:58:00.001-06:00

My little man (Sloan) is acting out the closer we get to the delivery of littlest man. I've read the parenting books and understand that this is a normal reaction for Sloan, so I'm just letting him work through it in his own ways. I just feel helpless watching him trying so hard to control his emotions in preparation for a new man in the spotlight. Guess all I can do is just keep cheering him on from the sidelines. I'm his number one supporter! Love ya, babe, you can do it!

When Sloan gets especially moody, he resorts to nonverbal communication. This can come in the form of grunts, gestures, and even texting (still counts as nonverbal, right?) It really helps him express himself in a healthy way. For example, one evening while we were both in the living room, he was on the couch and I was on the sofa. Both of us had our phones with us. He was a bit upset with me over an earlier quarrel.

I went ahead and opened the window for my little guy, knowing full well that he was just doing the best he could with all of those feelings bouncing around inside. What can I say? I'm really humble and patient.

Every night before I fall asleep, I like to do crosswords on my iPhone. This means that after the lights are out and little man has settled down on his side of the bed, I quietly lie on my side and work on a puzzle until I doze off.

Sloan does not like this. He says the light from my phone keeps him up, and he insists that I turn it off or go out to the couch to use it. I don't oblige him in this case. At eight and a half months pregnant, I am too damn uncomfortable on that couch and I cannot fall asleep unless I occupy my mind with a crossword puzzle in bed. So, basically, I just ignore anything Sloan says after lights out. I do my crosswords and he eventually falls asleep just fine (See? I am so ready to take care of a baby!)

Strangely, Sloan's not okay with this arrangement.

Ignored (usually). No big deal.

However, my cool-as-a-cucumber husband is starting to get pretty mad. I can tell because things have gotten personal.

Now, I don't doubt that it stinks in there. *shiver* But I still know this text is a bluff for several reasons:

The baby can't talk to Sloan. It can only talk to me and the doctor.
The baby likes it when I do crosswords in bed at night because that's when he's awake! Also, he's pretty good at them. It's our little thing to do together.
The baby specifically told me that he's glad he's not with Sloan all day because he listens to lame music and the jokes he makes at work aren't as sophisticated as mine

Now, I'd never tell those things to Sloan, it would hurt him too much. So instead, after receiving such an emotionally-charged message, I decided to let things slide and turn off my phone. I then laid there and tried to fall asleep for a couple of hours, thinking wistfully about the day that my love will be happy again and I can do crosswords in bed. We'll get there.

We'll get there.

Glamour Shots!

2011-07-03T10:00:00.002-06:00

Today, I learned how to make myself beautiful with computers!! Here's the original:

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand the after! Same picture!!

I learned this from the same people who work for magazines like Elle and Glamour. I'll be hosting a one-day workshop on these methods later in the month. Admission will be $200 (this includes a complimentary Lunchable and Capri Sun).

I LOVE THEM

2011-07-01T21:40:00.000-06:00

Glitter toes!

GLITTAH TOES!

GLIT

TAH

TOES!!!!!

Happy times!!

Sad times!!

Car times!!

Shoe times!!

Sloan times!!

Gramps: To the fetus

2011-06-30T15:42:00.006-06:00

Hello, littlest man, and welcome to my humble web repository. My, you do look as weird as those other newborns I've seen pictures of on the internet. That's okay, I was ready for that. I'm sure you'll get your confidence once the swelling goes down, assuming that's swelling and not just...face.

Can you give us a smile, little guy?

No...?

*sigh* Did you know that I gained 40 pounds to incubate you?

That means I ate on average 2376 calories daily, even though I only really need about 1600. All for you, my little prince.

And you can't even put on a smile?

You know, I also fell out of bed twice while pregnant with you because I made the mistake of trying to sit up and turn at the same time. Do you know how humiliating that feels?

Still nothin, huh?

Well, anyway. I'm writing this open letter to you because I've been having this recurring dream for the past couple of years. In the dream, I have a baby and it's a boy (2 for 2!) and that baby boy looks just like a baby version of my dad (your grandpa).

Since this probably means that you're going to have an especially special bond with my father, I thought I'd take a moment to prepare you for the day you two meet. Just giving you a little background so you don't look like an idiot when you don't know anything about him but he knows all about you. That's tacky.

Now, look over this and we'll talk again in an hour.

Gordon Richard Moore, Jr.

Born July 23 in Dyer County, Tennessee

Hair: Blonde Eyes: Blue

Physical Consitution: Sturdy, Agile

Occupation: Dentist

Hobbies: Playing/Watching sports; Camping; Kayaking; Falling asleep during church/in the pool/during good movies/during okay movies/during bad movies; Frisbee; Croquet.

Other important things to know:

Your grandpa has little tolerance for lazy people, except for your Aunt Michelle (it's because she's nice).
At times, your grandfather will loudly belt 1-2 lines of an Elvis song while pounding out the beat on the kitchen counter. These are spontaneous outburts that don't generally lead to anything violent or disturbing, so do your best to ignore them.
When driving, especially in rural areas, grandpa will operate the vehicle at a frightening rate of speed, but only on small, winding roads. His interstate speed is much slower.
If grandpa loses to you in anything, it's because he threw the game. This is often done to keep the peace with your Aunt Laura.
Grandpa is a social being, so if you don't want to rely solely on your looks to get a bigger chunk of the inheritance, buckle down and start planning some family events.
Never, I repeat never, make a joke on the sly assuming grandpa is too old to know what you're talking about. He always knows.
No matter how early you have woken up in the morning, your grandpa has woken up earlier that day.
If your grandfather is unwilling to eat a food item due to its undesirable taste, simply do one or all of the following: 1. Melt cheese over the top 2. Apply Tabasco sauce 3. Serve with banana peppers. This includes desserts. (Also successful with Uncle Richard).

Tomorrow, little baby, you and I will go over the appropriate times and methods used to cry in front of grandpa in order to garner sympathy/cash/a more lenient punishment (hint: think weepy, not frantic).

We Showered...BABY STYLE (?)

2011-06-23T09:54:00.003-06:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAND we decorated onesies for the fetal Rehder! We had brightly colored paint, cartoon robot appliques, baby lion iron-ons, etc for everyone to use. All of the girls were really into making adorable baby-appropriate stuff; things with, like, teddy bears and baby ducks hugging each other. And little kids holding balloons and waving, you know, that kind of stuff. I just wish I had pictures of all of the cuddly onesies, but oopsie! My, er, camera broke and I couldn't take any photos! *kicks ground* Shucks! Oh well.

How did this get in here? Hehe. Anyway...

Some girls opted to write sweet things on the little baby clothes, stuff like "I love Mommy!" and "Little Slugger." They really put a lot of thought into their themes, like Noah's Ark or a little football player.

What the...? I didn't even upload anything to this post!!

Anyway, designing and decorating the baby's shirts was great fun! And now I have a drawer full of baby clothes for my little man to wear that will have everyone cooing over him!

Let's Get Down to Business

2011-06-15T13:03:00.005-06:00

Sloan: *walks in front door* Welp! Got the job!
Julia: *squeal* Yay!!! *happy clap* I knew you'd get it, you're just so manly and tall!

Sloan: *furrowed brow* Okay..?

Julia: Heating, air conditioning, and plumbing places only hire manly men. It's like an unspoken industry rule.

Sloan: That is absolutely and wholly something that you have no evidence of. It just...came from your mind. Just right now. *serious pause* Anyway, they're giving me a truck. I get to drive it to and from work, too.

Julia: OH MY GOSH!!! Is it big and manly?

Sloan: Well, really, it's kind of too big...

Julia: *jumps up from couch* YAAAAAY! Okay, here's what we do tomorrow: Come home in your uniform--

Sloan: Oh, I don't really have one. I just wear clothes that I feel like getting dirty.

Julia: *frown* Oh. That's okay, I'll just get your utility belt out of the closet! *lugs belt over to Sloan* Put on your belt. Is there a place to put a hammer? That'll make it more authentic. *tries to wrap belt around Sloan's waist* Okay, now, tomorrow you'll drive your truck and park it in the parking lot.

Sloan: I won't be wearing a utility belt when I'm work--

Julia: THEN come to the door with a clipboard and be all like, "Um, hi, Mrs....Rehder? I'm here to fix your broken thing." or whatever. Gasket? Do you fix gaskets? "I'm here to fix your gaskets, Mrs. Rehder."

Sloan: I'm not really going to ever say that though--

Julia: And I'll let you in, like I don't even care or whatever, but you'll be secretly really distracted by my beauty. And you'll be all like, "Is it hot in here?" And you'll take off your shirt and pour water on your head.

Sloan: Inside the house?

Julia: And then you'll use your wrench to take apart some appliance, maybe the dryer? Then you'll look at it the inside of it and sigh. And then I'll be like, "Oh my! Is it bad?" and you'll turn to me and say, "Yes. It's bad. Very bad." And I'll have a concerned look on my face and clutch my apron.

Sloan: *walks into bathroom, shuts door*

Julia: *stands at bathroom door* Can you still hear me in there?

Sloan: *silence*

Julia: *shouts* AND THEN YOU'LL BE LIKE "SO WHERE IS MR. REHDER?" AND I'LL BE LIKE, "OH, HE'S OUT OF TOWN. HE'S A CEO SO HE TRAVELS A LOT TO BE IN MEETINGS WITH PEOPLE LIKE WARREN BUFFETT, PRESIDENT OBAMA, TIGER WOODS, AND CHRISTINA AGUILERA." BUT I'LL SAY IT IN A WAY THAT'S REALLY NONCHALANT LIKE I DON'T EVEN CARE, YOU KNOW?

Sloan: *silence*

Julia: AND THEN YOU'LL BE LIKE, "HOW CAN ANY MAN LEAVE SUCH A BEAUTIFUL WIFE AT HOME BY HERSELF?" AND I'LL KIND OF BLUSH AND BE LIKE, "OH YOU'RE TOO KIND." AND THEN I'LL BE LIKE "OH DEAR, IT'S WARM IN HERE" AND I'LL TAKE A HANDKERCHIEF AND DELICATELY DAB IT ON MY NECK AND THEN MOVE LOWER DOWN, APPROACHING MY AMPLE BOSOM. THEN YOU'LL BE ALL LIKE--

Sloan: *turns on shower*

Julia: BABY? CAN YOU HEAR ME?

Sloan: *shower water*

Julia: K I'LL JUST FINISH WHEN YOU'RE DONE IN THERE. *stands patiently next to door* *sigh* *bites nail*

So Fumey!

2011-06-09T13:35:00.003-06:00

A few days ago, I used nail polish remover for the first time in probably six months.

It smelled...delicious. Drink it! said something inside me (reasonably sure it wasn't the fetus). Drink it!! I resisted.

The next day, I used a brand new Sharpie to write an address on a package. Just one waft of the fumes made me want to crack that marker open and eat its contents like beef jerky. But I knew better than to do it, too messy!

Also, I've always liked the smell of gasoline, but lately when I smell it, I want to go into the mountains to find a gasoline river, dunk my refillable Big Gulp into its depths, then drink it like Indian Jones did from the Holy Grail in The Last Crusade. (He chose wisely).

What does this mean? I don't know. According to the many academic sources I researched (Wiki, WebMD) I have determined that it's not pica because pica makes people want to eat gross and flavorless things like dirt and chalk. Dirt and chalk? BOOORING. How much more hardcore can I get when I already want to drink lighter fluid? NOT MUCH. Go ahead and keep your clay, detergent, and quartz stones, whimps because like I said I don't have pica. I'll bet what I have is named something closer to HemiChainsawStevenSeagalBAMF Disorder. But that's not important. What's important is how much latex paint can I drink through this crazy straw before it could start to adversely affect my ~~social image~~ unborn child? I mean, this right here is only a quart, no biggie. I'm just inquiring now so I don't even get close to that level. Safety first!