Thank goodness for concealer

While I have no qualms about blogging to my friends and family about the lackluster physical appearance I am sporting out in Seattle, it's another thing to show up back in Michigan looking sallow with dark circles under my eyes. We've been here since Thursday, and I am beyond exhausted. From attending countless gatherings (which are lovely) to sleepless nights with Bean (which are not), I am eternally grateful for the lovely folks at MAC and Bare Escentuals who help me look like I am member of the living human population. I'm also feeling entirely out of it, like someone slipped a moron pill into my chocolate milk. My DH keeps looking at Bean fondly and saying, "I hope you are smart like your mama!" But I suggested that he rethink that particular wish, as my intelligence has proven to have a shelf life. Best if used before Bean. And unfortunately, there's no concealer for that problem. But before I get ahead of myself, let's go back to last week in Seattle as we settled in and prepared for our trip.

Unpacking at the new house is going slowly -- VERY slowly-- but surely. We have three categories of boxes to go through: the ones from our recent move, the ones from the move to Seattle eight months ago, and the ones from our move to St. Louis almost six years ago. Fortunately we used different moving companies each time, so we have some idea what boxes contain useful kitchen utensils and which ones are home to the My Little Ponies that I played with in elementary school. I'll let you guess which ones I go after first.

Among items on our to-do list was change the code on the garage door keypad, in case some of the neighbors were privy to it from the previous owners. DH tackled that task while I carried a sleeping Bean upstairs and began to ready myself for bed. I kept hearing strange sounds, like rocks hitting the side of the house and the bedroom window. That's bizarre, I thought, but shrugged it off. And the dog kept barking out the front window, running upstairs to stare at me, and then curling up in her favorite spot among my shoes in the back of the closet (rinse and repeat). After a few rounds of that, she stayed by the front door and continued barking excitedly. I marched down the stairs to scold her when I caught a glimpse of DH standing on the porch, staring back at me with an exasperated expression. He had accidentally gotten locked out after the garage door closed before he had finished reprogramming the keypad, leaving him stranded on the driveway with a locked front door and back door. His attempts to get my attention by throwing rocks at the house and sending Lassie to get mommy had failed. On the bright side, DH met lots friendly neighbors who were out walking, and none seemed to notice that he was attempting to break into his own house.

I am still experiencing acute stress disorder following our late-night and early-morning packing fiasco as we readied for our Michigan trip, so forgive me if I gloss over those details. But despite the bone chilling fear that DH and I faced when flying with the Bean, he was an excellent traveler. He only got about 5 hours of sleep the night before, which turned out to be a good thing, as he slept through most of both three-hour flights. I am still terrified to fly back to Seattle with Bean by myself, though. (DH is heading back tomorrow, while I can work remotely from Michigan for the rest of the week.) I am fairly certain I won't be able to eat or use the bathroom for 12 straight hours. But that's a worry for another day.

On Saturday my parents hosted an open house, attended by friends and family who were meeting Bean for the first time. We couldn't have asked for a more gorgeous day, and the food and decor had my mom's signature flair. I was introduced to an Oreo cookie truffle, thoughtfully homemade and brought by one of my dad's cousins. Those cookies and I were immediately best friends, it was like we'd known each other forever! I'm hesitant to ask for the recipe, though... DH is already tired of me complaining about my extra pounds in the same breath that I beg him to take me to T.G.I. Friday's for one of my favorite desserts. (What can I say, we don't have any of those near our house in Seattle. Or a Bennigan's or Olga's, for that matter. Oh the humanity!)

Sunday was Bean's baptism at DH's family's church. Prior to the event, we had to watch a 20-minute video on the meaning of the sacrament. I struggled to pay attention (I zoned out at "Water is necessary to sustain human life..."), but DH caught me up on what I missed. He explained that all babies are objects of wrath, due to the nature of conception among other factors. The baptism regenerates us in Christ. Which made me wonder if babies conceived via infertility treatments are still considered objects of wrath, due to the *ahem* lack of passion involved in the process. (I liked our doctor, but not in "that way.") Anyway, I think it was wise to continue with the baptism, just in case.

In all seriousness, the service was beautiful, and I was touched at how many of our family and friends were present. Bean looked beyond adorable in his little white outfit, and again was a trooper during the day's events. He saved his explosive poop for the final round of picture taking after the reception, so the paparazzi was able to capture my horrified face as he filled (overfilled, more accurately) his diaper during a shot with mommy. No matter how much baby poop I deal with in a day, it's always disgusting. I think we lost a onesie to the cause that time, too.

To digress a moment, during the open house on Saturday, I was in the kitchen confronting my mom about a serious issue: the proper position of the toilet paper on the roll. I think it's obvious -- the end of the paper should come over the top for quickest access. So since arriving, I've been helping my mom by switching the roll into this position every time I use one of the bathrooms. Sure enough, next time I go, the paper is turned under again. One of my mom's friends of over 25 years, L, overheard the conversation and rightfully agreed with me. She went on to suggest that unlike the previous surveys I had done, this would be a meaningful poll to put on my blog. So L, this one is for you. Please everyone vote on the sidebar.

Now a few pics of Bean enjoying his first visit to Michigan.

"I missed you, Grandma!"

This is the Happy Apple that DH used to love as a baby. Or as Bean calls it, the Indifference Apple.

Grandpa pushes him on the hammock.

He's either flashing a gang sign or practicing to be the next white rap sensation. Either way, watch out.

We went with the rest of DH's family to visit the grave of Bean's great-grandfather Pops. It was a beautiful day, and I know Pops was smiling down on us.

Hope everyone enjoyed the long Independence Day weekend!