Happy 4th of July

John and I enjoyed a long holiday weekend, possibly our last real break before the birth of our daughter. Between napping and watching the World Cup, Wimbledon, and the Tour de France, we squeezed in a successful attempt at babysitting my cousin’s two young children. We made it through an entire evening without any crying, fights, or injuries, and even earned a disappointed, “Oh, no!” from Madeleine when her parents returned home. John’s trademark babysitting technique is to chase the kids around the house until all parties are sweaty and exhausted. I think this may actually be a viable service for us to offer – a baby boot camp, of sorts. It will at least save our family some money on gym memberships in the future.

I have also reached the point where I am so clearly pregnant that strangers feel the need to ask me about my baby or share their little pearls of wisdom. Here are my favorite random remarks from the holiday weekend:

“This is what they look like at one-year old.” – Proud grandfather at neighborhood fireworks display.

“Just wait until they start drawing on each other.” – Frustrated father at Target with a young child and red-marker decorated baby.

“Your ankles don’t look that fat.” – Clay

“Did that seriously just happen?” – Jennifer to John, after spotting a large, lumpy mother walking out of Kroger with her family in nothing but a cropped t-shirt, shoes, and bikini bottom. I guess she was taking the shirt and shoes dress code requirement too literally.