Ladies, Ladies

The Sabbath

We take rest pretty seriously in the Stapp family.

All-nighter?

Thank you, Josh, for my favorite photo of Wyatt this month. And, thank you, Sam Brown, for my favorite onesie that finally fits.

Sweet Sweet Boy

We've been frantically working on house projects as we get ready to put our home on the market this week. Wyatt's been a trooper, making several trips to Miner's Hardware and being careful not to roll into the freshly painted baseboards. At the end of the day yesterday, I found him like this. When I walked around to take his picture, he didn't lift his head and only barely followed me with his tired eyes.
I'm struck by what a sweet boy he is. When I'm tired, Garett could only wish that I'd quietly lay my head down and not make a peep. I'm more likely to be cranky, extra critical and a bit more dramatic than usual. Maybe I can learn something from my sweet son?

Not Much To Say...Or Do I?

I haven't posted much the past few months because I don't think I have much to say. Sometimes it seems like I'm supposed to only be cheery and sunny on this blog (or at least moderately funny) and that has not been my experience the past few months. We're in transition mode around here and that has taken a toll.

My body has been screaming at me to stop nursing Wyatt and I'm finally listening. Weaning is going well and I'm beginning to feel slightly more like myself. Wyatt's gained about three pounds in just a few weeks so it's pretty clear that he needed more food than I was able to give him. His weight gain makes me smile although now he's in need of a new wardrobe.
I'm surprised how compulsively I feel the need to explain why I'm not nursing him, like I somehow owe it to the world to justify this decision but at least I'm noticing that and choosing to believe that nursing my son does not define me or predict my success as a mother or Wyatt's future brilliance.


We've decided to sell our house in an effort to lower our expenses and feel less pressure in general. It's mostly my pride that's taking a hit but I can't wait to be able to call a landlord when something breaks/explodes/leaks and not be required to pay to fix it. Unsure of where we'll unpack, I'm pouring over our local craigslist wondering if a clean, 2 bedroom home with reasonable rent and the option to have a dog will present itself at just the right moment.


More uncertainty stems from the reality that both Garett and I have chronic health issues that tend to rear their unfortunate heads during inopportune times. This time it's Garett not me which, surprisingly, tends to increase my anxiety about our future more than when it's my own body going through the exacerbation. Garett is quite possibly the most courageous man I know and I can only hope to learn to walk through life as gracefully as he does.


Too much information? Probably. But is life only meant to be shared when its rosy? In the thick of it, sometimes I answer that question with a resounding yes, leaning more towards isolation than connectedness. But I believe that community is a big part of what God uses to give us hope of something more. I believe in God, a God that is all love, all grace, all good and a source of freedom, hope and even purpose in life's challenges. I find God meets me right in these moments and reminds of what is true rather that what is not.


And, in the midst of chaos, beauty appears even more glorious than before.


A kind friend willing to openly share her postpartum experience and empathize.


A scrumptious meal of Thai Chicken and Noodle Salad shared amongst friends.


An Olympics party with my crazy-about-the-Olympics brother.


The giggle erupting from Wyatt's mouth when I kiss the crook of his neck.

A new pair of shiny purple sandals from a friend who knew how much they would make me smile.


Ruby's entire body wiggle when I get home from work.


A path more clear than before.


Eye candy and audio pleasure watching the movie Mamma Mia.


The feeling I have after a mediation when a mother and father reconcile their relationship with their adult son.


Seems I had a bit more to say than I thought.

Budget Woes

Attemping to save a little money, we're trying out a new babysitter.

Wyatt Photos

Staring Contest

The Fives

I'm not a morning person. You'd think I'd then consider myself a night person. Nope, not a night person either. I'm more of a day person. In my ideal world, my day would start at 8am and I'd be able to crawl into bed by 10pm. Unfortunately, Wyatt is not entirely attuned to my preferred schedule and still wakes up early from time to time. One of those times was this morning. I first heard his little voice at 5:50am. I'll admit it, I hate anything in the fives. I honestly kind of hate the sixes as well but it's embarrassing to say out loud because adults are supposed to be okay with waking up in the sixes. I'm not. If I can sleep until the sevens, my day will generally turn out okay.


We really lucked out with Wyatt and his sleeping patterns. Actually, I believe it is a gift from God. He goes to bed sometime between 8 and 9:30pm and nearly always wakes up between 7:30 and 8:30am. For awhile he liked to get up around 6am but then we covered his window with two huge beach towels and it's been at least 7:30am since. But, something seems to be different these past few days and it's back to the fives, my least favorite time of day. The saddest part about him waking up in the fives is the combination of his sunny disposition and desire to play and my sluggish inability and and lack of desire to do so.



I wonder if I will ever become a morning person. I'd give that 10:1 odds. Place your bets.

This photo was not taken in the fives or sixes.

Independence Day and The Sick Pukes

We had a memorable 4th of July celebration complete with our favorite friends, the Tyndalls. This was our eighth year spending the holiday with Scott and Lisa and our third with their son, Jack. It's probably the only thing I've ever done consistently for eight straight years in my entire life. You know how you look forward to some house guests and not others? Well, we always look forward to the Tyndalls. They're such good friends, it makes every thing easy without a bit of pressure. Whether we have tons of activities lined up, sit and watch West Wing reruns all afternoon or have a mini-Wii tournament, it's always good times with these friends.
We hit up the Cayucos parade (where our teeny town of 3,000 swelled to a whopping 43,000!) and sandcastle contest and enjoyed kettle corn and fish tacos. At night we elected to put the kids to bed early and watch the fireworks from our living room.

Unfortunately, I came down with the sick pukes during the night on Friday and am still in recovery. Claire, our four year old friend in Texas, once called the stomach flu the sick pukes and Garett and I have been borrowing the term since. I thought it was food poisoning so I wasn't cautious with spreading the germs and, kindly, passed it along to Wyatt. Poor guy, I found him lying in his throw-up Monday morning. He's so mellow, he never cried or even made a peep. Yesterday was a long day filled with projectile sick pukes and long, tired moans from Wyatt but today is already looking better. His temperature is lower and he seems to be keeping down food.

Being sick and taking care of a little sickie, I feel like I'm going through an initiation period for becoming a mom. Learning how to care for myself and simultaneously care for Wyatt with a hint of grace is a good goal. For now, we'll keep laughing and hope the sick pukes are on their way back to Texas.

Sweet Dreams

Ruby Ruby Ruby

Ruby, our adorable and accident prone one year old Boxer, is my number one inspiration for putting a little money in my savings account from time to time. The thing is, you never know when she's going to swallow a bottle cap, snort a foxtail or need an expensive shot or surgery. I'm guilty of completely romanticizing dog ownership and the reality has been less than romantic. Despite the unexpected costs associated with Ruby, we love her quite a bit (well, Garett loves her more than I do) and are usually glad she's part of our family.

Pump It Up

Today I went back to work. I thought I'd miss Wyatt but it turns out a little space in our relationship is not a bad thing. While I was on maternity leave, my employer, Creative Mediation, moved offices so over the weekend Garett helped me get my new workspace ready for my return. This is a photo of Garett standing in front of the curtains he meticulously hung to hide me from the busy street beyond. When friends and coworkers ask me about feeling ready to get back to work I nearly always mention my anxiety about pumping breast milk for Wyatt on the job. Of course my new office has windows with no window coverings on two of the four walls. I not only had to figure out a plan for cheap window coverings but also am determined to get over the mental block I have about pumping milk like a cow while trying to maintain some modicum of professionalism. I feel weird enough pumping at home so envisioning someone using the intercom feature to ask me a mediation related question with the hum of the Medela double pump in the background seems like a bit more than I can handle.

I'm pleased to report that all went well on this first day back to work. Our dear friend Nana Nancy spent the morning with Wyatt and Garett was home by one for an afternoon of parenting. I put aside my anxiety about the pumping, closed the door to my office and felt smugly pleased to get to take two 10-minute breaks during the day. We'll see how long I can hang.

Uncle Josh

We had a fantastic weekend highlighted by a visit from Uncle Josh who is spending the summer on the west coast (!!!) working for a law firm in San Francisco. As you can see, Wyatt is smitten with his uncle and who wouldn't be? The weather here was unbelievably warm on Saturday so we spent some time on the beach. Ruby kept a close eye on Wyatt while we played in the ocean.And here are a couple more photos from the weekend.

Wyatt's been asking when he'll get to see Uncle Josh again. He's pretty advanced linguistically.

Wyatt This Week