Ketchup (or Catch Up, you know I can’t resist a pun) and Other Garnishes

Hi all!  It has been awhile! When we last left off, Weezy was talking dirty in the shower, I was heavily laden with child, and Brakes was doing his best to survive in a house so full of estrogen.  Now, there is even more estrogen (poor Brakes).  On April 26th, we welcomed our little garnish, Miss Olive Beecroft!

In one of the many sleepless nights I have enjoyed since then, I developed a guilty conscience about the fact  that I have everything, including Eloise’s first turd, documented and memorialized for all the world to see.  Yet I have nary a sentence about the sweetest,  most loving, adorable, and fantastic little garnish ever to be born!  As a second daughter myself, I am extremely sensitive to issues such as these; they sometimes hit a bit close to home.  For example, here is a picture of my baby book:

 

 

That’s right.  There is no baby book. And when it was my turn to make an “All About Me” poster in 2nd grade, my mom tried to convince me that I was the brown haired/brown eyed child in the photos she pasted to the bedazzled poster board.  I was tow-headed with green eyes, but why get mired down in such trivial details?  Anyways, about 2 am yesterday morning, I struck a deal with Olive, if she would agree to go to mother-truckin sleep, then I would try to jot down some recollections of her pregnancy and babyhood for posterity’s sake.  I had to throw in some moo-moos to sweeten the deal but she eventually capitulated and we  all got some rest.  So here I am.  Please excuse any poor grammar, typos, and hormonal gushing about my kids; try to remember people, I am tired.  Very tired. And Olive, when you read this 20 years from now (will people even read then?  Information will probably be teleported to your brain using tronics (B&G speak for the remote control).  You should probably also ignore the meandering off topic tendencies.  Whatev.) call me up and thank me for putting up with your 2 am giggles every night.  And also, don’t be a hoochie.    That is my advice for you, 20 year old Olive.

First Family Photo