When the life juice of your computer cord fades away over a matter of weeks and you don't take the hint (buy a CHARGER, dummy), you eventually find yourself staring sadly at a dead macbook. No (easy) way way to publish blog posts, no photo uploading or editing, and ultimately, your life (as you know it) grinds to a very firm stop.
I take it you figured out that by "you," I totally mean "me"...
Since it's been a while, today I'm filling a post with a slew of photos of life in the past few weeks.
On this particular afternoon, Lukas had 0% interest in smiling for the camera. I pulled out all the stops: strange noises that sounded like a cow dying; maniacal grins; rousing calls of "Hey Lukai! OVER HERE!" Nothing worked. He was not buying the malarky I was selling.
I already miss these chimes and we haven't even moved yet. When a certain little boy is napping and I'm sitting cross-legged at the kitchen table, responding to emails or typing up a blog post, the chimes gently sway back and forth, providing the sweetest musical backdrop to my work.
There's that look again.
Our drives usually aren't planned. This one sure wasn't. We decided on a whim to head north towards the Arctic Circle, intending to see what the road was like. One thing led to another and we found ourselves (no, not at the Arctic Circle, sorry to disappoint) on the Dalton Highway, which takes travelers all the way to the tippy top of Alaska: to Prudhoe Bay and the Arctic Ocean. It would've been another few hours of driving before we hit the Arctic Circle and someone under 2 feet tall was protesting, "But Mama and Dadda, I'm DONE."
My mom made these guys swanky bow ties for Easter Sunday mass. I found Luko shirt at a consignment store for only a few dollars and it almost matches Drew's. Score!
Sweet baby bump at 22 weeks. Little brother was protesting via kicks and punches that he too wanted to wear a matching bow tie. Next year, bro.
These two take the sweetest shots together.
And then we finally get to Lukas versus the Tomato Sauce.
Red sauce for dinner means a bath before bed. No matter what I do, I can never quite scrub his little face clean of orange smears. A bath usually does the trick (...except for that time when I dried Lukas off with a towel, post-bath, only to discover an orange streak on the towel later. *facepalm*)
Is there a call for tomato sauce smeared baby models?