Behind the blog

Behind the Blog: CAROLINA!
Behind the Blog: CASA DE KALOI
Behind the Blog: CRAZY LOVE GAMBLE STYLE
Behind the Blog: Cynthia with the impossible last name.
Behind the Blog: Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth.
Behind the Blog: FROM A SESAME SEED.
Behind the Blog: GLACIER COUNTY HONEY CO.
Behind the Blog: HELLO, PRETTY BIRD.
Behind the Blog: IN THE PUDDING CLUB
Behind the Blog: JUNIOR'S MAMA.
Behind the Blog: KIKI, the non-Greek.
Behind the Blog: Michelle, married to Michael.
Behind the Blog: NEWLYWEDS.
Behind the Blog: WE ARE GEIS.

Beliefs and opinions

A brand new Schlothan.
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
In favor of feeding babies.
Let’s get our READ on.
Now I’m a freaking breast whisperer.
On (not) weaning.
Two conversations: one little, one big.
Was Proposition 8 a sinister win? Or a valid amendment?

Blogging

101 days beautiful.
A brand new baby.
A bright new day.
Always the best choice.
Baby: imprisoned. Mother: delirious with power.
Bedridden.
Bloggity.
Children’s Book Giveaway: Stella and Sam series - CLOSED!
Everybody loves a good link.
Finally Friday.
For Ava. And for Charlotte too.
Forgive me, bloggers, for I must sin.
Google, we have a problem.
Happenings.
Hello, Natalie. This one is for you.
Helping a daughter out.
I am Sarah's father.
Ladies and gentlemen, WE HAVE A WINNER!!
Let the baby-making commence.
Let’s get our READ on.
Like WOW.
Moi.
So here's the deal.
Swoon.
The revelation.
They called me a liar.
To answer some questions...
Waiting for baby.

California

Almost synonymous with love.
June gloom.
Moi.
Scamper scamper.
Sorry, Hank.
Summerish.
The honeymooners.
The Schlothan dog beach extravaganza.
Two days at the zoo.
Was Proposition 8 a sinister win? Or a valid amendment?
We went to Centennial Farm and I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.

Celebrations

A baby yet.
A little bitter with an abundance of sweet.
Announcing...
Another scrumptious year older.
Because of a unanimous declaration.
Belated.
Birthing Charlotte.
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
For my heart.
Four resolutions. One. Two. Three. Four.
Happiest.
It's a girl!
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my girl: 4 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my Sweet Pea: 12 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
Like WOW.
On this, a day of thanksgiving and praise...
One month.
She just knows.
The most wonderful time of the year.
Today is my birthday.
Trois mois.
Two months.
You make me happy too.

Conversations

A big MAYBE.
A brand new Schlothan.
A typical Schlothan Christensen conversation.
Afterwards, I flipped my husband the bird.
And scene.
Beans for brains.
Birth of a nickname.
Dignity gone.
Direct correlation.
Donald calls it THE MOST IRRATIONAL MELTDOWN EVER.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
Happenings.
Her new nickname is STINK-MEISTER.
Husband as smart ass.
In the car.
Marvel. As a verb.
Of sheep farts and barking spiders.
On second thought, I may know where she got it from...
Over the weekend.
Pooportunist: n. Something my husband calls me.
Postpartum hormones: an exercise in irony.
Pregnancy defined.
The birds and the bees.
The conversation.
The ordinary morning and the extraordinary girl.
The post about THE SEX.
The revelation.
This is a post about applesauce.
This is for those of you who complimented my birthin' hips.
Twitter.
Twitter.
Twitter.
Twitter.
Twitter.
Two conversations: one little, one big.
We’ve all done this, right?
Well-loved.
You are biology class.

Crohn's disease

Birth of a nickname.
Dignity gone.
Stuck.
The story of my life.
You are biology class.

Emotion

21 weeks: I will miss being pregnant.
229 diaper changes down. Lots to go.
23 Weeks: CHEATED.
24 Weeks: Flourishing.
26 weeks: Growing a baby. Please do not disturb.
27 Weeks: Still.
28 Weeks: Back and forth.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
40 Weeks: A timeline in photos.
42.5 Weeks: Best.
52 weeks: Full circle.
A baby yet.
A bit of missing.
A little bitter with an abundance of sweet.
A little Monday morning cute.
A moment I will love forever.
A mulberry tree of reasons.
A parent's heart.
A rocky start.
A sign of things to come.
Announcing...
As she grows.
As we really are.
At least the trying is fun.
Attachment parenting, ahoy!
Baby mine.
Before.
Bitter and sweet.
Direct correlation.
Donald calls it THE MOST IRRATIONAL MELTDOWN EVER.
Evolution.
February 11.
Feel better soon, numbskull.
Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
Glimpse.
Google, we have a problem.
Happenings.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
He was ten.
Here.
Hey, baby!
Hiccups.
How I wish they had been wrong.
How not to pick an obstetrician.
Hush little baby, don’t you cry.
I am grateful for:
I heart my baby daddy.
I heart my husband.
I may as well begin communal lice-picking.
June gloom.
Let the bed-head begin!
Let the light back in.
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my monkey: 10 months.
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Letter to my Sweet Pea: 12 months.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
Look what happened when I blinked.
Mama bear.
Marvel. As a verb.
Milestone.
Moment.
More than bears love honey.
My inestimable blessing and bother.
Oh my.
On an anniversary.
On second thought.
On the move.
On the twentieth of July.
On this, a day of thanksgiving and praise...
One month.
Ordinary tomorrow.
Our golden trimester.
Present tense.
Real men spend time with their babies.
Reason number 4,732,189 that children should come with instruction manuals.
Scamper scamper.
She just knows.
She likes to nap on me.
Six weeks already.
So not done reproducing.
So this is motherhood.
The baby that is not.
The bald spot.
The beginning of the end.
The cat named Bob.
The greatest love.
The happiest hostage.
The very best of all.
There is love here.
There she goes!
This is my life.
This is what happens when you spill water on a laptop.
This mother's guilt.
This? This I want to remember.
Two conversations: one little, one big.
Two days at the zoo.
Two months.
We fought.
Well-loved.
What came before.
Who's my little biological wonder? Who?
Yet another post about motherhood. Bet you didn't see that one coming.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.

Everyday

27 Weeks: Still.
A typical Schlothan Christensen conversation.
Finally Friday.
Furry little fuckers.
Happenings: Lapse.
I am grateful for:
I heart my baby daddy.
I heart my husband.
I love...
Ladies and gentlemen, WE HAVE A WINNER!!
Marvel. As a verb.
Momnesia?
Ordinary tomorrow.
Pet peeves.
Present tense.
So this is motherhood.
Ten thoughts.
The birds and the bees.
The story of my life.

Farts

29 weeks: Yet another check-up.
A baby yet.
Birth of a nickname.
Hiccups.
Let’s talk about our bodies.
Of sheep farts and barking spiders.
The story of my life.
The tale of a pooping genius. Or dunce. Or something.

Friends

For Ava. And for Charlotte too.
She just knows.
The cat named Bob.
Two conversations: one little, one big.

Happenings

Happenings.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
Happenings: Lapse.

Illustrations

17 Weeks
Direct correlation.
Donald calls it THE MOST IRRATIONAL MELTDOWN EVER.
Hello. This is Odin. He is an owl.
Hiccups.
Milestone.
The truth about motherhood.
This baby was made for carrying.

Love

229 diaper changes down. Lots to go.
42.5 Weeks: Best.
A good man.
A little bitter with an abundance of sweet.
A little mid-day cuteness.
A little Monday morning cute.
A moment I will love forever.
A mulberry tree of reasons.
A very important person.
Almost synonymous with love.
Always the best choice.
Announcing...
As she grows.
As we really are.
Babies: (n.) blobs with personality.
Baby mine.
Babywearing: NOW I GET IT!
Belated.
Bittersweet finger sucking
Children's Book Giveaway: Mama, Do You Love Me?
Eleven signs that motherhood has swallowed me whole.
Evolution.
February 11.
Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
From the back of my brain.
Glimpse.
Happenings: Lapse.
Happiest.
He was ten.
Helping a daughter out.
Here.
Hey, baby!
How I wish they had been wrong.
Hush little baby, don’t you cry.
I heart my baby daddy.
I heart my husband.
I love... {Pregnancy edition}
It. That. This.
Let the bed-head begin!
Let the light back in.
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my lovebug: 7 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my monkey: 10 months.
Letter to my punkin: 13 months.
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Letter to my Sweet Pea: 12 months.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
Marvel. As a verb.
Mine.
Moment.
Mommy goggles.
More than bears love honey.
Mothering Charlotte...
My inestimable blessing and bother.
My little ladybugs.
My not-so-guilty pleasure.
Now I know.
Now I’m a freaking breast whisperer.
On an anniversary.
On the making of a father.
On the twentieth of July.
One month.
Ordinary tomorrow.
Our lullaby.
Present tense.
Real men spend time with their babies.
Scamper scamper.
She likes to nap on me.
She's already cuter than she was in these pictures. Honestly.
She.
So this is motherhood.
Summerish.
Terms of endearment.
The bald spot.
The greatest love.
The happiest hostage.
The honeymooners.
The most wonderful time of the year.
The ordinary morning and the extraordinary girl.
There is love here.
They sure aren't for chasing dust bunnies.
This is my life.
This is what happens when you spill water on a laptop.
This mother's guilt.
To you. From me.
Today is my birthday.
Trois mois.
Two minutes ago.
Two months.
Well-loved.
When he thinks of love.
Who's my little biological wonder? Who?
Yet another post about motherhood. Bet you didn't see that one coming.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.

Memories

A moment I will love forever.
A very important person.
Children's Book Giveaway: Gossie.
February 11.
For Ava. And for Charlotte too.
He was ten.
How I wish they had been wrong.
It. That. This.
Milestone.
Now I know.
Present tense.
She just knows.
Snapshot memories.
So this is motherhood.
The baby that is not.
The cat named Bob.
The honeymooners.
The very best of all.
This is for those of you who complimented my birthin' hips.
This? This I want to remember.
What came before.
What my momma gave me.

Momma's picks

gDiapers! (my unsolicited review)

Name this photo!

Bloggity.
Ladies and gentlemen, WE HAVE A WINNER!!

Neighborhood

Furry little fuckers.
Two days at the zoo.

Odin the Owl: Just Read!

A moment I will love forever.
A morning in the playroom.
As we really are.
Children's Book Giveaway: A Father's Song.
Children's Book Giveaway: A Mother's Song.
Children's Book Giveaway: Are You Eating Something Red?
Children's Book Giveaway: Bear at Work.
Children's Book Giveaway: Bedtime for Mommy.
Children's Book Giveaway: Bloom: A Little Book About Finding Love
Children's Book Giveaway: Book! Book! Book!
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
Children's Book Giveaway: Charley Harper's ABC's and 123's.
Children's Book Giveaway: Cleo's Counting Book
Children's Book Giveaway: Emily and Alex: Plain and Fancy.
Children's Book Giveaway: For Just One Day.
Children's Book Giveaway: Gossie.
Children's Book Giveaway: Hello, Tilly
Children's Book Giveaway: Just Like Me!
Children's Book Giveaway: Leo's Tree.
Children's Book Giveaway: Mama Panya's Pancakes.
Children's Book Giveaway: Mama, Do You Love Me?
Children's Book Giveaway: Me and You.
Children's Book Giveaway: Me, All Alone, at the End of the World.
Children's Book Giveaway: Out of the Egg
Children's Book Giveaway: Star Baby.
Children's Book Giveaway: The Circus Ship.
Children's Book Giveaway: The Paper Bag Princess.
Children's Book Giveaway: Wave.
Children's Book Review: Sophie's Big Bed.
Children’s Book Giveaway: How Big is a Pig?
Children’s Book Giveaway: Stella and Sam series - CLOSED!
Hello. This is Odin. He is an owl.
Let’s get our READ on.
Speaking of books...
The not-so-quiet cricket.
The ordinary morning and the extraordinary girl.
To answer some questions...
We have a winner. And a cute airplane.

Political crap

Pint-size revolution.
Was Proposition 8 a sinister win? Or a valid amendment?

Poop

29 weeks: Yet another check-up.
Brown day.
Dignity gone.
Eleven signs that motherhood has swallowed me whole.
Her new nickname is STINK-MEISTER.
Let’s talk about our bodies.
Pooportunist: n. Something my husband calls me.
Stuck.
The tale of a pooping genius. Or dunce. Or something.
You are biology class.

Real men series

Real men spend time with their babies.
Swoon.

Reviews and giveaways

Children's Book Giveaway: Bear at Work.
Children's Book Giveaway: Book! Book! Book!
Children's Book Giveaway: Cleo's Counting Book
Children's Book Giveaway: For Just One Day.
Children's Book Giveaway: Leo's Tree.
Children's Book Giveaway: Mama Panya's Pancakes.
Children's Book Giveaway: Me and You.
Children's Book Giveaway: Star Baby.
Children's Book Giveaway: The Circus Ship.
Children's Book Giveaway: The Paper Bag Princess.
Children's Book Review: Sophie's Big Bed.
Children’s Book Giveaway: How Big is a Pig?
We have a winner. And a cute airplane.

Ridiculous poetry

Lamentations.
Miss Poops-a-lot.
My little ladybugs.
The story of my life.

Sex

A very blue clitoris.
Call me crazy.
I am Sherlock Holmes.
Let the baby-making commence.
Mechanics of intimacy. Mechanics of irony.
Mission: BABY NUMBER TWO.
That pregnant woman.
Venus and Mars.
We call it her sixth sense.

Twitter

Twitter.
Twitter.
Twitter.
Twitter.
Twitter.

Cats

About my cat's brain. And contractions.
Forgive me, bloggers, for I must sin.
Furry little fuckers.
Happenings.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Mechanics of intimacy. Mechanics of irony.
Pressing question...
Ten minutes ago.
The cat named Bob.
This is what happens when you spill water on a laptop.
Was Proposition 8 a sinister win? Or a valid amendment?
You are biology class.

Hank

A brilliant idea gone horribly awry.
A photo from our morning.
A welcome change.
Always the best choice.
Canine grande and homo sapiens pequeña.
Charlotte took this photograph...
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
Have I mentioned that my dog is dumb?
Lamentations.
Never underestimate the pregnant bladder.
Ouch.
Sorry, Hank.
The Schlothan dog beach extravaganza.
They called me a liar.
This is my life.
Twitter.

Dad's critters

Helping a daughter out.
I am Sarah's father.
Oh, you'll see baby pictures soon enough.
The Schlothan dog beach extravaganza.

Sarah

A big MAYBE.
A moment I will love forever.
A mulberry tree of reasons.
A post about organic mush.
A sunshiney afternoon.
And scene.
As we really are.
At least the trying is fun.
Babies: (n.) blobs with personality.
Baby mine.
Baby: imprisoned. Mother: delirious with power.
Babywearing: NOW I GET IT!
Bittersweet finger sucking
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Children's Book Giveaway: A Mother's Song.
Children's Book Giveaway: Mama Panya's Pancakes.
Children's Book Giveaway: Mama, Do You Love Me?
Children's Book Giveaway: The Paper Bag Princess.
Children's Book Review: Sophie's Big Bed.
Children’s Book Giveaway: Stella and Sam series - CLOSED!
Eleven signs that motherhood has swallowed me whole.
Eleven sounds that I love.
Evolution.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
Forgive me, fellow mothers, for I have sinned.
Four resolutions. One. Two. Three. Four.
From best to worst in three miles.
Glimpse.
Google, we have a problem.
Happenings: Lapse.
He was ten.
Hello. This is Odin. He is an owl.
Her new nickname is STINK-MEISTER.
Hush little baby, don’t you cry.
I am grateful for:
I have created a nipple monster.
I love...
I love... {Pregnancy edition}
I may as well begin communal lice-picking.
Improving upon my postpartum experience.
In favor of feeding babies.
It. That. This.
Let the baby-making commence.
Let the light back in.
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
Look what happened when I blinked.
Mama bear.
Moi.
Moment.
Mommy goggles.
More than bears love honey.
Mothering Charlotte...
My little ladybugs.
Now I’m a freaking breast whisperer.
Of sheep farts and barking spiders.
On an anniversary.
On second thought, I may know where she got it from...
On second thought.
On the move.
On the twentieth of July.
Ouch.
Our lullaby.
Pint-size revolution.
Pooportunist: n. Something my husband calls me.
Postpartum hormones: an exercise in irony.
Present tense.
Quiet.
Reason number 4,732,189 that children should come with instruction manuals.
Scamper scamper.
She likes to nap on me.
She's already cuter than she was in these pictures. Honestly.
So here's the deal.
So not done reproducing.
Speaking of books...
Summerish.
That baby has changed everything.
The beginning of the end.
The booger harvesting ninja strikes again.
The happiest hostage.
The not-so-quiet cricket.
The tale of a pooping genius. Or dunce. Or something.
There is love here.
There she goes!
This baby was made for carrying.
This is a post about applesauce.
This is a pressing question.
This just in.
This mother's guilt.
Three little noggins.
Today is my birthday.
Twelve months going on sixteen.
We went to Centennial Farm and I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.
We’ve all done this, right?
What came before.
What do you title a post about elves and underwear?
Worth learning for.
Yet another post about motherhood. Bet you didn't see that one coming.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.

Photographs of Sarah

19 Weeks
21 weeks: I will miss being pregnant.
23 Weeks: CHEATED.
24 Weeks: Flourishing.
25 Weeks: Them's child-bearing hips.
26 weeks: Growing a baby. Please do not disturb.
27 Weeks: Still.
28 Weeks: Back and forth.
29 weeks: Yet another check-up.
30 weeks: Very pregnant.
31 Weeks: I am completely unprepared.
32 weeks: ALMOST THERE.
33 Weeks: Pregnancy shenanigans.
34 Weeks: For the Whippersnapper
35 Weeks: Prelabor.
36 Weeks: A wee one this way comes.
37 Weeks: full term.
38 Weeks: Nearing completion.
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
40 Weeks: A timeline in photos.
42.5 Weeks: Best.
44 Weeks: A new normal.
48 Weeks: Slowly but surely.
51 weeks: Momma’s middle.
A moment I will love forever.
A post about organic mush.
A sizable change.
A sunshiney afternoon.
A very blue clitoris.
A welcome change.
Amen.
And scene.
As we really are.
Attachment parenting, ahoy!
Belated.
Bias-itis.
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Bow before me, for I ramble.
Breastfeeders R Us.
Call me crazy.
Cause and effect.
Children's Book Giveaway: A Mother's Song.
Children's Book Giveaway: Mama Panya's Pancakes.
Children's Book Giveaway: Mama, Do You Love Me?
Children's Book Giveaway: The Paper Bag Princess.
Children's Book Review: Sophie's Big Bed.
Children’s Book Giveaway: Stella and Sam series - CLOSED!
Eleven sounds that I love.
Evolution.
Feel better soon, numbskull.
Happenings.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
Happenings: Lapse.
I am grateful for:
It got better. Better and better and better.
It. That. This.
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
Mechanics of intimacy. Mechanics of irony.
My boobies need to go night-night too.
No, REALLY.
Now I know.
Now I’m a freaking breast whisperer.
On the twentieth of July.
On this, a day of thanksgiving and praise...
Ouch.
Our golden trimester.
Postpartum hormones: an exercise in irony.
Scamper scamper.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-SHOWERS!
She likes to nap on me.
She's already cuter than she was in these pictures. Honestly.
Small wonders.
Snapshot memories.
So here's the deal.
Sorry, Hank.
Speaking of books...
Stuck.
Summerish.
That baby has changed everything.
That pregnant woman.
The accidental photographer.
The baby that is not.
The beginning of the end.
The curious case of the leaking orifices.
The honeymooners.
The loveliest of gifts.
The not-so-quiet cricket.
The post about THE SEX.
The tale of a pooping genius. Or dunce. Or something.
The true look of pregnancy.
The very best of all.
There is love here.
This baby was made for carrying.
This is a pressing question.
This is my life.
Thoroughly enjoying every second. Almost.
To you. From me.
Trois mois.
Tummy Time: IT DID ME WRONG
Waiting for baby.
Was Proposition 8 a sinister win? Or a valid amendment?
We went to Centennial Farm and I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.
What came before.
What do you title a post about elves and underwear?
Worth learning for.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.
You make me happy too.

Donald

19 Weeks
21 weeks: I will miss being pregnant.
229 diaper changes down. Lots to go.
27 Weeks: Still.
29 weeks: Yet another check-up.
32 weeks: ALMOST THERE.
51 weeks: Momma’s middle.
52 weeks: Full circle.
A baby yet.
A big MAYBE.
A brilliant idea gone horribly awry.
A good man.
A little Monday morning cute.
A typical Schlothan Christensen conversation.
A very important person.
About my cat's brain. And contractions.
Almost synonymous with love.
Always the best choice.
Another scrumptious year older.
At least the trying is fun.
Babywearing: NOW I GET IT!
Bias-itis.
Bitter and sweet.
Bow before me, for I ramble.
Children's Book Giveaway: A Father's Song.
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
Children's Book Giveaway: Cleo's Counting Book
Children's Book Giveaway: For Just One Day.
Children's Book Giveaway: Leo's Tree.
Dignity gone.
Direct correlation.
Donald calls it THE MOST IRRATIONAL MELTDOWN EVER.
February 11.
Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
For my heart.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
From best to worst in three miles.
From the back of my brain.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
gDiapers!
Happenings.
Happenings: Lapse.
Her father's daughter.
Husband as smart ass.
I heart my baby daddy.
I heart my husband.
In the car.
Let the baby-making commence.
Let the light back in.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my monkey: 10 months.
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Letter to my Sweet Pea: 12 months.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
Marvel. As a verb.
Maternal maternity.
Milestone.
Mine.
Now I know.
Oh, Donald, my Donald.
On an anniversary.
On second thought, I may know where she got it from...
On this, a day of thanksgiving and praise...
Ordinary perfect.
Ouch.
Over the weekend.
Parenthood has its perils.
Pint-size revolution.
Pooportunist: n. Something my husband calls me.
Pregnancy defined.
Quiet.
Real men spend time with their babies.
She's already cuter than she was in these pictures. Honestly.
So here's the deal.
Soon to be trusted with an infant.
Spoon: 1. Quinoa: 0.
Swoon.
That ever-lovin’ daddy of hers.
That pregnant woman.
The beginning of the end.
The cat named Bob.
The conversation.
The greatest love.
The most wonderful time of the year.
The not-so-quiet cricket.
The revelation.
The very best of all.
This house should hold a family.
This is a post about applesauce.
This is what happens when you spill water on a laptop.
Three little noggins.
To you. From me.
Twitch. Twitch twitch.
Waiting for baby.
We call it her sixth sense.
We’ve all done this, right?
Wee small hours.
What do you title a post about elves and underwear?
When he thinks of love.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.
You are biology class.

Photographs of Donald

24 Weeks: Flourishing.
26 weeks: Growing a baby. Please do not disturb.
28 Weeks: Back and forth.
30 weeks: Very pregnant.
31 Weeks: I am completely unprepared.
36 Weeks: A wee one this way comes.
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
51 weeks: Momma’s middle.
52 weeks: Full circle.
A baby yet.
A brilliant idea gone horribly awry.
A good man.
A typical Schlothan Christensen conversation.
A very important person.
A welcome change.
Almost synonymous with love.
Always the best choice.
Another scrumptious year older.
Belated.
Bias-itis.
Bow before me, for I ramble.
Children's Book Giveaway: A Father's Song.
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
Children's Book Giveaway: Cleo's Counting Book
Children's Book Giveaway: For Just One Day.
Children's Book Giveaway: Leo's Tree.
For my heart.
Forgive me, bloggers, for I must sin.
From best to worst in three miles.
gDiapers!
Happenings.
Happenings: Lapse.
I heart my baby daddy.
I heart my husband.
I think this is called "Too-Much-Sunflare-Itis."
It's a girl!
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
Mine.
No, REALLY.
Oh, you'll see baby pictures soon enough.
On the making of a father.
One month.
Parenthood has its perils.
Pregnancy defined.
Real men spend time with their babies.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-SHOWERS!
She's already cuter than she was in these pictures. Honestly.
So here's the deal.
Sorry, Hank.
Swoon.
That ever-lovin’ daddy of hers.
The conversation.
The honeymooners.
The most wonderful time of the year.
To you. From me.
Waiting for baby.
When he thinks of love.
You make me happy too.

Extended family

A baby yet.
A mulberry tree of reasons.
Baby laundry.
Because of a unanimous declaration.
Better start saving for therapy.
Children's Book Giveaway: Out of the Egg
Feel better soon, numbskull.
Helping a daughter out.
How not to pick an obstetrician.
I am Charlotte’s (maternal) grandfather.
I am Sarah's father.
I am Sherlock Holmes.
I think this is called "Too-Much-Sunflare-Itis."
Of sheep farts and barking spiders.
Oh, you'll see baby pictures soon enough.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-SHOWERS!
Shake, spin, sort by color.
Six weeks already.
The Schlothan dog beach extravaganza.
Waiting for baby.
You are biology class.

Christensen

A brand new Schlothan.
How not to pick an obstetrician.
You are biology class.

Schlothan

A baby yet.
A brand new Schlothan.
A mulberry tree of reasons.
Better start saving for therapy.
Children's Book Giveaway: Out of the Egg
Feel better soon, numbskull.
Helping a daughter out.
I am Charlotte’s (maternal) grandfather.
I am Sarah's father.
I am Sherlock Holmes.
I think this is called "Too-Much-Sunflare-Itis."
Of sheep farts and barking spiders.
Oh, you'll see baby pictures soon enough.
Shake, spin, sort by color.
Six weeks already.
The Schlothan dog beach extravaganza.
Twitter.
You are biology class.

Dad's posts

Helping a daughter out.
I am Charlotte’s (maternal) grandfather.
I am Sarah's father.
I am Sherlock Holmes.
Let the baby-making commence.
Oh, you'll see baby pictures soon enough.

Marriage

32 weeks: ALMOST THERE.
51 weeks: Momma’s middle.
A big MAYBE.
A brand new Schlothan.
A good man.
A typical Schlothan Christensen conversation.
A very blue clitoris.
A very important person.
Afterwards, I flipped my husband the bird.
Always the best choice.
At least the trying is fun.
Bias-itis.
Birth of a nickname.
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Call me crazy.
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
Dignity gone.
Direct correlation.
Donald calls it THE MOST IRRATIONAL MELTDOWN EVER.
February 11.
Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
From the back of my brain.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
Happenings.
Husband as smart ass.
I am grateful for:
I am Sherlock Holmes.
I heart my baby daddy.
I heart my husband.
In the car.
Itchy belly syndrome.
Let the baby-making commence.
Let the light back in.
Marvel. As a verb.
Mechanics of intimacy. Mechanics of irony.
Mission: BABY NUMBER TWO.
Now I know.
Oh, Donald, my Donald.
On an anniversary.
On this, a day of thanksgiving and praise...
Ordinary perfect.
Over the weekend.
Pooportunist: n. Something my husband calls me.
Pregnancy defined.
Quiet.
She's already cuter than she was in these pictures. Honestly.
Soon to be trusted with an infant.
That pregnant woman.
The baby that is not.
The conversation.
The loveliest of gifts.
The most wonderful time of the year.
The not-so-quiet cricket.
The story of my life.
The very best of all.
They sure aren't for chasing dust bunnies.
This house should hold a family.
This is what happens when you spill water on a laptop.
Twitch. Twitch twitch.
Twitter.
Venus and Mars.
We call it her sixth sense.
We fought.
We’ve all done this, right?
What do you title a post about elves and underwear?
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.
You make me happy too.

Marriage photographs

24 Weeks: Flourishing.
26 weeks: Growing a baby. Please do not disturb.
28 Weeks: Back and forth.
31 Weeks: I am completely unprepared.
36 Weeks: A wee one this way comes.
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
A welcome change.
No, REALLY.
The honeymooners.
Waiting for baby.
You make me happy too.

Romance

A very blue clitoris.
A very important person.
Always the best choice.
February 11.
Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
I heart my baby daddy.
I heart my husband.
In the car.
Now I know.
On an anniversary.
The honeymooners.
The very best of all.
They sure aren't for chasing dust bunnies.
Venus and Mars.
We call it her sixth sense.

Engagement and wedding

Always the best choice.
Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
Now I know.
On an anniversary.
This is for those of you who complimented my birthin' hips.
You make me happy too.

Home and garden

Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
Maternal maternity.
Ta-Da! (and Da-Da too).
Two days at the zoo.

Urban homestead

Ta-Da! (and Da-Da too).

Pregnancy

17 Weeks
19 Weeks
21 weeks: I will miss being pregnant.
23 Weeks: CHEATED.
24 Weeks: Flourishing.
25 Weeks: Them's child-bearing hips.
26 weeks: Growing a baby. Please do not disturb.
27 Weeks: Still.
28 Weeks: Back and forth.
29 weeks: Yet another check-up.
30 weeks: Very pregnant.
31 Weeks: I am completely unprepared.
32 weeks: ALMOST THERE.
33 Weeks: Pregnancy shenanigans.
34 Weeks: For the Whippersnapper
35 Weeks: Prelabor.
36 Weeks: A wee one this way comes.
37 Weeks: full term.
38 Weeks: Nearing completion.
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
40 Weeks: A timeline in photos.
51 weeks: Momma’s middle.
52 weeks: Full circle.
A bit of missing.
A chat about the waterworks.
A good man.
A sign of things to come.
A sizable change.
A typical Schlothan Christensen conversation.
A very blue clitoris.
A welcome change.
About my cat's brain. And contractions.
Afterwards, I flipped my husband the bird.
And scene.
At least the hormones are great.
At least the trying is fun.
Baby laundry.
Before.
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Bow before me, for I ramble.
Call me crazy.
Dignity gone.
Direct correlation.
Donald calls it THE MOST IRRATIONAL MELTDOWN EVER.
Due date.
For Ava. And for Charlotte too.
Four resolutions. One. Two. Three. Four.
gDiapers!
Hey, baby!
Hiccups.
How not to pick an obstetrician.
I am grateful for:
I heart my husband.
I love... {Pregnancy edition}
Improving upon my postpartum experience.
In which I exhibit poor mothering skills.
Itchy belly syndrome.
June gloom.
Lamentations.
Let the baby-making commence.
Let the light back in.
Let’s talk about our bodies.
Mechanics of intimacy. Mechanics of irony.
Milestone.
Mission: BABY NUMBER TWO.
Moi.
Momnesia?
Nesting: that which knows no logic.
Never underestimate the pregnant bladder.
No, REALLY.
Now I know.
Of sheep farts and barking spiders.
On (not) weaning.
On the twentieth of July.
Ouch.
Our golden trimester.
Over the weekend.
Pooportunist: n. Something my husband calls me.
Pregnancy defined.
Projection.
Sarah and the Orbs of Wonder.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-SHOWERS!
She just knows.
Six weeks already.
So not done reproducing.
So this is Misery.
Soon to be trusted with an infant.
Still playing the waiting game.
Stuck.
Ten thoughts.
That ever-lovin’ daddy of hers.
That pregnant woman.
The baby that is not.
The birds and the bees.
The curious case of the leaking orifices.
The loveliest of gifts.
The motto of our hopes.
The post about THE SEX.
The sperm producers are pissing me off.
The story of my life.
The true look of pregnancy.
The very best of all.
This house should hold a family.
This is for those of you who complimented my birthin' hips.
This? This I want to remember.
Thoroughly enjoying every second. Almost.
Totally batshit crazy.
Waiting for baby.
What came before.
What I did not do this weekend...
What my momma gave me.
What you were not named: BLUE.
What you were not named: PINK.
Worth learning for.
You are biology class.
Zapped.

Belly pictures

19 Weeks
21 weeks: I will miss being pregnant.
23 Weeks: CHEATED.
24 Weeks: Flourishing.
25 Weeks: Them's child-bearing hips.
26 weeks: Growing a baby. Please do not disturb.
27 Weeks: Still.
28 Weeks: Back and forth.
29 weeks: Yet another check-up.
30 weeks: Very pregnant.
31 Weeks: I am completely unprepared.
32 weeks: ALMOST THERE.
33 Weeks: Pregnancy shenanigans.
34 Weeks: For the Whippersnapper
35 Weeks: Prelabor.
36 Weeks: A wee one this way comes.
37 Weeks: full term.
38 Weeks: Nearing completion.
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
40 Weeks: A timeline in photos.
A sizable change.
A very blue clitoris.
A welcome change.
And scene.
Hey, baby!
Hiccups.
I am grateful for:
Mechanics of intimacy. Mechanics of irony.
Momnesia?
Now I know.
Ouch.
Our golden trimester.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-SHOWERS!
Stuck.
That pregnant woman.
The accidental photographer.
The curious case of the leaking orifices.
The post about THE SEX.
The true look of pregnancy.
The very best of all.
Thoroughly enjoying every second. Almost.
Waiting for baby.
What came before.

Weekly countdown

17 Weeks
19 Weeks
21 weeks: I will miss being pregnant.
23 Weeks: CHEATED.
24 Weeks: Flourishing.
25 Weeks: Them's child-bearing hips.
26 weeks: Growing a baby. Please do not disturb.
27 Weeks: Still.
28 Weeks: Back and forth.
29 weeks: Yet another check-up.
30 weeks: Very pregnant.
31 Weeks: I am completely unprepared.
32 weeks: ALMOST THERE.
33 Weeks: Pregnancy shenanigans.
34 Weeks: For the Whippersnapper
35 Weeks: Prelabor.
36 Weeks: A wee one this way comes.
37 Weeks: full term.
38 Weeks: Nearing completion.
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
40 Weeks: A timeline in photos.
42.5 Weeks: Best.

Preggo illustrations

17 Weeks
Direct correlation.
Donald calls it THE MOST IRRATIONAL MELTDOWN EVER.
Hiccups.
Milestone.

Second trimester

17 Weeks
19 Weeks
21 weeks: I will miss being pregnant.
23 Weeks: CHEATED.
24 Weeks: Flourishing.
25 Weeks: Them's child-bearing hips.
26 weeks: Growing a baby. Please do not disturb.
27 Weeks: Still.
28 Weeks: Back and forth.
A sizable change.
A typical Schlothan Christensen conversation.
Dignity gone.
Direct correlation.
Donald calls it THE MOST IRRATIONAL MELTDOWN EVER.
gDiapers!
Hey, baby!
Hiccups.
How not to pick an obstetrician.
I am grateful for:
Milestone.
Moi.
Momnesia?
Never underestimate the pregnant bladder.
No, REALLY.
Our golden trimester.
Pregnancy defined.
The birds and the bees.
The story of my life.
The very best of all.
This is for those of you who complimented my birthin' hips.
This? This I want to remember.
Thoroughly enjoying every second. Almost.
Waiting for baby.
You are biology class.

Third trimester

28 Weeks: Back and forth.
29 weeks: Yet another check-up.
30 weeks: Very pregnant.
31 Weeks: I am completely unprepared.
32 weeks: ALMOST THERE.
33 Weeks: Pregnancy shenanigans.
34 Weeks: For the Whippersnapper
35 Weeks: Prelabor.
36 Weeks: A wee one this way comes.
37 Weeks: full term.
38 Weeks: Nearing completion.
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
40 Weeks: A timeline in photos.
A good man.
A sizable change.
A very blue clitoris.
A welcome change.
About my cat's brain. And contractions.
Afterwards, I flipped my husband the bird.
And scene.
Baby laundry.
Due date.
I heart my husband.
I love... {Pregnancy edition}
In which I exhibit poor mothering skills.
Itchy belly syndrome.
June gloom.
Lamentations.
Mechanics of intimacy. Mechanics of irony.
Nesting: that which knows no logic.
Now I know.
Ouch.
Over the weekend.
Projection.
Sarah and the Orbs of Wonder.
Sh-sh-sh-sh-SHOWERS!
She just knows.
So this is Misery.
Soon to be trusted with an infant.
Still playing the waiting game.
Stuck.
Ten thoughts.
That pregnant woman.
The baby that is not.
The curious case of the leaking orifices.
The loveliest of gifts.
The motto of our hopes.
The post about THE SEX.
The sperm producers are pissing me off.
The true look of pregnancy.
This house should hold a family.
Totally batshit crazy.
What came before.
What I did not do this weekend...
What my momma gave me.
What you were not named: BLUE.
What you were not named: PINK.
Zapped.

Labor and birth

25 Weeks: Them's child-bearing hips.
35 Weeks: Prelabor.
36 Weeks: A wee one this way comes.
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
40 Weeks and 6 Days.
A rocky start.
About my cat's brain. And contractions.
At least the hormones are great.
Before.
Birthing Charlotte.
Call me crazy.
Due date.
Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
For Ava. And for Charlotte too.
Improving upon my postpartum experience.
It's a girl!
My little ladybugs.
Oh, you'll see baby pictures soon enough.
On second thought.
On the twentieth of July.
She's already cuter than she was in these pictures. Honestly.
Still playing the waiting game.
That ever-lovin’ daddy of hers.
The baby that is not.
What I did not do this weekend...
What you were not named: BLUE.
What you were not named: PINK.
Worth learning for.

Miscarriage

Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
Let the light back in.
The baby that is not.

Parenthood

229 diaper changes down. Lots to go.
42.5 Weeks: Best.
A good man.
A little bitter with an abundance of sweet.
A little mid-day cuteness.
A little Monday morning cute.
A moment I will love forever.
A mulberry tree of reasons.
A parent's heart.
A sunshiney afternoon.
A year of compromises.
Almost synonymous with love.
Amen.
As she grows.
As we really are.
At least the hormones are great.
At least the trying is fun.
Attachment parenting, ahoy!
Babies: (n.) blobs with personality.
Baby mine.
Baby: imprisoned. Mother: delirious with power.
Babywearing: NOW I GET IT!
Beans for brains.
Because changing diapers is not exactly rocket science.
Bedridden.
Before.
Belated.
Better start saving for therapy.
Bias-itis.
Bitter and sweet.
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Bow before me, for I ramble.
Breastfeeders R Us.
Brown day.
Cause and effect.
Children's Book Giveaway: A Father's Song.
Children's Book Giveaway: Are You Eating Something Red?
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
Children's Book Giveaway: Cleo's Counting Book
Children's Book Giveaway: Leo's Tree.
Eleven sounds that I love.
Evolution.
Firsts, lasts, and in-betweens.
For my heart.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
Forgive me, fellow mothers, for I have sinned.
From the back of my brain.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
Glimpse.
Happenings.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
Happenings: Lapse.
He was ten.
Hello, Natalie. This one is for you.
Her new nickname is STINK-MEISTER.
Here.
Houston, we have mobility. Kind of.
How I wish they had been wrong.
How to NOT leave the house with a newborn.
Hush little baby, don’t you cry.
I have created a nipple monster.
I heart my baby daddy.
I may as well begin communal lice-picking.
I would like my instruction manual, please.
In favor of feeding babies.
It's a girl!
It’s all fun and games until a tooth shows up.
Just for the record...
Let the baby-making commence.
Let the bed-head begin!
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my lovebug: 7 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Letter to my Sweet Pea: 12 months.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
Look what happened when I blinked.
Mama bear.
Marvel. As a verb.
Maternal maternity.
May sleeping dogs lie.
Mine.
Miss Poops-a-lot.
Mission: BABY NUMBER TWO.
Mommy goggles.
More than bears love honey.
My boobies need to go night-night too.
My inestimable blessing and bother.
My little ladybugs.
My not-so-guilty pleasure.
Naming the Princess Charlie.
Note to self: do not become a knife-wielding ninja.
Oh my.
On (not) weaning.
On second thought, I may know where she got it from...
On second thought.
On the move.
On the twentieth of July.
On this, a day of thanksgiving and praise...
Ordinary perfect.
Ordinary tomorrow.
Our lullaby.
Parenthood has its perils.
Pint-size revolution.
Postpartum hormones: an exercise in irony.
Present tense.
Quiet.
Real men spend time with their babies.
Reason number 4,732,189 that children should come with instruction manuals.
Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.
Scamper scamper.
Shake, spin, sort by color.
She likes to nap on me.
She.
Six weeks already.
Speaking of books...
Spoon: 1. Quinoa: 0.
Summerish.
Swoon.
Ta-Da! (and Da-Da too).
THAT mother.
The baby that is not.
The beginning of the end.
The booger harvesting ninja strikes again.
The case of the missing brain stuffing.
The conversation.
The greatest love.
The happiest hostage.
The most wonderful time of the year.
The not-so-quiet cricket.
The Tale of the Identified Vulva.
There is love here.
This baby was made for carrying.
This house should hold a family.
This is a post about applesauce.
This is my life.
This mother's guilt.
Three little noggins.
To you. From me.
Today is my birthday.
Too soon.
Twelve months going on sixteen.
Two days at the zoo.
Venus and Mars.
Waking baby, adoring mother.
We call it her sixth sense.
We went to Centennial Farm and I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.
We’ve all done this, right?
Wee small hours.
Well-loved.
What came before.
Why you should never feed your child a food you despise, AMEN.
Worth learning for.
Yet another post about motherhood. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

Fatherhood

A little bitter with an abundance of sweet.
A little Monday morning cute.
A year of compromises.
Almost synonymous with love.
At least the trying is fun.
Because changing diapers is not exactly rocket science.
Bias-itis.
Children's Book Giveaway: A Father's Song.
Children's Book Giveaway: Cleo's Counting Book
Children's Book Giveaway: Leo's Tree.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
I heart my baby daddy.
It’s all fun and games until a tooth shows up.
Letter to my lovebug: 7 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Mine.
On the making of a father.
Parenthood has its perils.
Real men spend time with their babies.
Swoon.
That ever-lovin’ daddy of hers.
The conversation.
The greatest love.
The most wonderful time of the year.
The Tale of the Identified Vulva.
Three little noggins.
When he thinks of love.

Motherhood

44 Weeks: A new normal.
A little bitter with an abundance of sweet.
A little mid-day cuteness.
A little Monday morning cute.
A mulberry tree of reasons.
A photo from our morning.
A post about organic mush.
A sunshiney afternoon.
A year of compromises.
All the good mothers were taken.
Amen.
And scene.
As we really are.
At least the hormones are great.
At least the trying is fun.
Attachment parenting, ahoy!
Babies: (n.) blobs with personality.
Baby mine.
Baby slime.
Baby: imprisoned. Mother: delirious with power.
Babywearing: NOW I GET IT!
Beans for brains.
Because changing diapers is not exactly rocket science.
Before.
Belated.
Better start saving for therapy.
Bias-itis.
Bitter and sweet.
Bittersweet finger sucking
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Breastfeeders R Us.
Brown day.
Call me crazy.
Cause and effect.
Children's Book Giveaway: Are You Eating Something Red?
Eleven signs that motherhood has swallowed me whole.
Eleven sounds that I love.
Evolution.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
Forgive me, fellow mothers, for I have sinned.
From the back of my brain.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
Glimpse.
Happenings.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
He was ten.
Heart bruising.
Hello, Natalie. This one is for you.
Her father's daughter.
Her new nickname is STINK-MEISTER.
Here.
Houston, we have mobility. Kind of.
How to NOT leave the house with a newborn.
Hush little baby, don’t you cry.
I have created a nipple monster.
I heart my baby daddy.
I may as well begin communal lice-picking.
In favor of feeding babies.
It. That. This.
It’s all fun and games until a tooth shows up.
Just for the record...
Let the bed-head begin!
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my lovebug: 7 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Look what happened when I blinked.
Mama bear.
Maternal maternity.
May sleeping dogs lie.
Moment.
Mommy goggles.
More than bears love honey.
Mothering Charlotte...
My boobies need to go night-night too.
My inestimable blessing and bother.
My little ladybugs.
My not-so-guilty pleasure.
Naming the Princess Charlie.
Note to self: do not become a knife-wielding ninja.
Now I’m a freaking breast whisperer.
Oh my.
On (not) weaning.
On second thought.
On the move.
On the twentieth of July.
Ordinary tomorrow.
Our lullaby.
Pint-size revolution.
Pooportunist: n. Something my husband calls me.
Postpartum hormones: an exercise in irony.
Present tense.
Quiet.
Reason number 4,732,189 that children should come with instruction manuals.
Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.
Scamper scamper.
Shake, spin, sort by color.
She likes to nap on me.
She.
Six weeks already.
Speaking of books...
Summerish.
That baby has changed everything.
THAT mother.
The bald spot.
The beginning of the end.
The booger harvesting ninja strikes again.
The case of the missing brain stuffing.
The conversation.
The greatest love.
The happiest hostage.
The most wonderful time of the year.
The not-so-quiet cricket.
The Pink Plague.
The tale of a pooping genius. Or dunce. Or something.
The Tale of the Identified Vulva.
The truth about motherhood.
There she goes!
This baby was made for carrying.
This is a post about applesauce.
This is a pressing question.
This is my life.
This just in.
This mother's guilt.
Three little noggins.
To you. From me.
Today is my birthday.
Too soon.
Tummy Time: IT DID ME WRONG
Twelve months going on sixteen.
Two conversations: one little, one big.
Two days at the zoo.
Typed from the grave.
Waking baby, adoring mother.
We went to Centennial Farm and I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.
What came before.
Why you should never feed your child a food you despise, AMEN.
Worth learning for.
Yet another post about motherhood. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

Boobs

19 Weeks
44 Weeks: A new normal.
A rocky start.
A sizable change.
A year of compromises.
And scene.
At least the hormones are great.
At least the trying is fun.
Baby mine.
Bedridden.
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Breastfeeders R Us.
Evolution.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
Glimpse.
Happenings.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
Happenings: Lapse.
Here.
Houston, we have mobility. Kind of.
How I wish they had been wrong.
Husband as smart ass.
I have created a nipple monster.
I would like my instruction manual, please.
In favor of feeding babies.
In one word? PATHETIC.
It got better. Better and better and better.
Moment.
My boobies need to go night-night too.
Now I’m a freaking breast whisperer.
On (not) weaning.
On second thought.
Ordinary tomorrow.
Pint-size revolution.
Postpartum hormones: an exercise in irony.
Sarah and the Orbs of Wonder.
Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.
She likes to nap on me.
Six weeks already.
So. Mastitis.
The beginning of the end.
The case of the missing brain stuffing.
This baby was made for carrying.
This is a post about applesauce.
Thoroughly enjoying every second. Almost.
Typed from the grave.
We went to Centennial Farm and I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.
What do you title a post about elves and underwear?
What my momma gave me.
Worth learning for.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.

Breastfeeding

51 weeks: Momma’s middle.
A rocky start.
A year of compromises.
And scene.
At least the hormones are great.
At least the trying is fun.
Baby mine.
Bedridden.
Belated.
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Breastfeeders R Us.
Evolution.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
Glimpse.
Happenings.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
Happenings: Lapse.
Here.
Houston, we have mobility. Kind of.
How I wish they had been wrong.
Husband as smart ass.
I have created a nipple monster.
I would like my instruction manual, please.
In favor of feeding babies.
In one word? PATHETIC.
It got better. Better and better and better.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Moment.
My boobies need to go night-night too.
Now I’m a freaking breast whisperer.
On (not) weaning.
On second thought.
Ordinary tomorrow.
Pint-size revolution.
Postpartum hormones: an exercise in irony.
Sarah and the Orbs of Wonder.
Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.
She likes to nap on me.
Six weeks already.
So. Mastitis.
The beginning of the end.
The case of the missing brain stuffing.
This baby was made for carrying.
This is a post about applesauce.
Typed from the grave.
We went to Centennial Farm and I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.
Worth learning for.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.

Mastitis

Bedridden.
Happenings: Lapse.
Husband as smart ass.
In one word? PATHETIC.
On (not) weaning.
Postpartum hormones: an exercise in irony.
So. Mastitis.
Worth learning for.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.

Milk bank

Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.

Pumping

Bedridden.
I would like my instruction manual, please.
Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.
So. Mastitis.
The beginning of the end.
The case of the missing brain stuffing.
Worth learning for.

Weaning

At least the trying is fun.
Evolution.
On (not) weaning.
The beginning of the end.
This is a post about applesauce.

Going green

A portrait of nearly eight months.
A post about organic mush.
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
gDiapers! (my unsolicited review)
Miss Poops-a-lot.
Ta-Da! (and Da-Da too).

Green baby

A portrait of nearly eight months.
A post about organic mush.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
gDiapers! (my unsolicited review)
Miss Poops-a-lot.

Green hacks

gDiapers! (my unsolicited review)

Parenting choices

A brand new Schlothan.
A portrait of nearly eight months.
A post about organic mush.
A rocky start.
A sunshiney afternoon.
A year of compromises.
At least the trying is fun.
Attachment parenting, ahoy!
Baby mine.
Baby: imprisoned. Mother: delirious with power.
Babywearing: NOW I GET IT!
Bedridden.
Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Bow before me, for I ramble.
Breastfeeders R Us.
Call me crazy.
Children's Book Giveaway: Are You Eating Something Red?
Children's Book Giveaway: Celebrate Passover and Celebrate Easter.
Children's Book Giveaway: The Paper Bag Princess.
Evolution.
For unto us a (not quite) (kind of part-time) (chocolate-loving) vegan is born.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
gDiapers! (my unsolicited review)
Glimpse.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
How I wish they had been wrong.
How to NOT leave the house with a newborn.
I have created a nipple monster.
It got better. Better and better and better.
Let the baby-making commence.
Let the bed-head begin!
Letter to my lovebug: 7 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Mama bear.
Mine.
Miss Poops-a-lot.
Mission: BABY NUMBER TWO.
Moment.
More than bears love honey.
My boobies need to go night-night too.
Note to self: do not become a knife-wielding ninja.
Now I’m a freaking breast whisperer.
On (not) crying it out.
On (not) weaning.
On second thought.
Pint-size revolution.
Present tense.
Real men spend time with their babies.
Reason number 4,732,189 that children should come with instruction manuals.
Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.
She likes to nap on me.
Spoon: 1. Quinoa: 0.
Summerish.
Ta-Da! (and Da-Da too).
The beginning of the end.
The happiest hostage.
The most wonderful time of the year.
The motto of our hopes.
The Pink Plague.
The Tale of the Identified Vulva.
The truth about motherhood.
This baby was made for carrying.
This is a post about applesauce.
Three little noggins.
To you. From me.
Too soon.
Twelve months going on sixteen.
Twitch. Twitch twitch.
We call it her sixth sense.
We went to Centennial Farm and I didn’t even get a lousy t-shirt.
Wee small hours.
Well-loved.
What you were not named: BLUE.
What you were not named: PINK.
Why you should never feed your child a food you despise, AMEN.
Worth learning for.
Yet another post about my miracle-working milk-producing mastitis-ridden breasts.

Attachment parenting

A sunshiney afternoon.
At least the trying is fun.
Attachment parenting, ahoy!
Baby mine.
Babywearing: NOW I GET IT!
Bow before me, for I ramble.
Evolution.
Glimpse.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
I have created a nipple monster.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Mine.
More than bears love honey.
On (not) weaning.
Present tense.
Real men spend time with their babies.
Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.
She likes to nap on me.
Summerish.
The happiest hostage.
The most wonderful time of the year.
This baby was made for carrying.
This is a post about applesauce.
Three little noggins.
To you. From me.
Too soon.
Wee small hours.
Well-loved.
Worth learning for.

Babywearing

A sunshiney afternoon.
Babywearing: NOW I GET IT!
Bow before me, for I ramble.
Glimpse.
Happenings: Cherished and forgettable.
Summerish.
This baby was made for carrying.
Three little noggins.
To you. From me.
Too soon.

Birth choices

25 Weeks: Them's child-bearing hips.
Birthing Charlotte.

Cloth diapering

A portrait of nearly eight months.
gDiapers!
gDiapers! (my unsolicited review)
How to NOT leave the house with a newborn.
Miss Poops-a-lot.
The truth about motherhood.

Co-sleeping

Boobs. The best inventions ever.
Glimpse.
How I wish they had been wrong.
Let the bed-head begin!
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
May sleeping dogs lie.
Mine.
Mission: BABY NUMBER TWO.
More than bears love honey.
My boobies need to go night-night too.
Present tense.
Sarah the Milk Goddess. Not the Sleep Goddess.
She likes to nap on me.
The happiest hostage.
We call it her sixth sense.
Wee small hours.
Worth learning for.
gDiapers!
I think this is called "Too-Much-Sunflare-Itis."

Sign language

Glimpse.
Letter to my lovebug: 7 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
She likes to nap on me.

Vaccinations

Mama bear.

Photography

Forgive me, bloggers, for I must sin.
I think this is called "Too-Much-Sunflare-Itis."
Snapshot memories.
The accidental photographer.

Outtakes

Forgive me, bloggers, for I must sin.
I think this is called "Too-Much-Sunflare-Itis."

Tutorials

The accidental photographer.

Love letters

229 diaper changes down. Lots to go.
34 Weeks: For the Whippersnapper
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
A baby yet.
A little Monday morning cute.
For my heart.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
Hey, baby!
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my girl: 4 months.
Letter to my lovebug: 7 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my monkey: 10 months.
Letter to my punkin: 13 months.
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Letter to my Sweet Pea: 12 months.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
One month.
Our golden trimester.
Pint-size revolution.
Six weeks already.
There is love here.
This is what happens when you spill water on a laptop.
To you. From me.
Trois mois.
Two months.
What you were not named: BLUE.
What you were not named: PINK.
When he thinks of love.
Who's my little biological wonder? Who?
You make me happy too.

Dear Charlotte

229 diaper changes down. Lots to go.
34 Weeks: For the Whippersnapper
39 Weeks: All belly, no baby. Yet.
A baby yet.
A little Monday morning cute.
For my heart.
From your mother, the bearer of the milk-stuff.
Letter to my baby-kins: 9 months.
Letter to my girl: 4 months.
Letter to my lovebug: 7 months.
Letter to my lovey: 5 months.
Letter to my monkey: 10 months.
Letter to my punkin: 13 months.
Letter to my Sunshine: 11 months.
Letter to my Sweet Pea: 12 months.
Letter to my sweet pea: 8 months.
Letter to my sweetheart: 6 months.
One month.
Pint-size revolution.
Six weeks already.
There is love here.
To you. From me.
Trois mois.
Two months.
What you were not named: BLUE.
What you were not named: PINK.
When he thinks of love.
Who's my little biological wonder? Who?

Dear Donald

You make me happy too.

Postpartum

42.5 Weeks: Best.
44 Weeks: A new normal.
48 Weeks: Slowly but surely.
51 weeks: Momma’s middle.
52 weeks: Full circle.
A bit of missing.
A chat about the waterworks.
A rocky start.
A year of compromises.
At least the hormones are great.
Before.
Breastfeeders R Us.
Call me crazy.
Feel better soon, numbskull.
Furry little fuckers.
How I wish they had been wrong.
Husband as smart ass.