The lost tapes

Just a quick picture posting of Harper's last days as a seven-month old. Really, she is so much more mature now. ;)


Carter (ok, maybe it was his mom) invited Harper on her first wagon ride. She was hooked!


The wagon photo-op did not work out as planned. Meet Harper's new friends: Blaire, Cambell and Carter!


I can't wait to teach Harper how to cook! Until that time comes, I'll let her entertain herself with my plastic ware while I make dinner!


She has the right idea!


After nearly four months of eating solids, Harper decides to reject one heaping spoonful of peas. You should have seen my shirt, too!


She sleeps in the oddest positions. Watching her snooze is still the sweetest thing--it doesn't get old.


Harper chills on top of the Christmas tree bag before it heads off to storage. Yes, we finally were able to dismantle the tree in May. Blame it on Dozer.


She just had to have a wagon like Carter's. This wagon is the number one tool in my arsenal to win over HP when she is upset. We would have nuclear grade meltdowns if it weren't for the wagon and Gerber Puffs!


Harper and Wrigley both love the wagon. Here is proof that dogs can smile.


Harper plays with her cousin, Audrey. It is fun to watch them interact!


She stands all the time now. Let's hope she waits awhile before she starts walking!


Harper's last day as a seven-month old. Ain't she sweet?! :) Love this girl!

Eight is great!

Today marks eight months of l-i-v-i-n' for Miss Punkie Peel, and yet I still find myself a bit dazed and confused. It's no wonder babies don't come with an instruction manual--not even Dunder Mifflin could supply the amount of paper necessary to write the first draft! Thankfully, we have other resources to (hopefully) answer our most pertinent, ridiculous, or mundane child rearing questions and concerns. I don't know what kind of shape my own family would be in if it weren't for our parents, grandparents, friends, playgroups, doctors, siblings, the Internet, and etc.

Let's peruse a list of questions that have either recently floated through my own head, or were sputtered out by others:

1. Are begonias poisonous?
Asked after one baby had, in fact, eaten a begonia. We decided the answer is no.

2. Did you just lick the bottom of my flip flop?
Yes, she did, and yes, she is still alive and well. Gross!

3. Will life go on if you go to bed tonight without a bath?
If for some reason life doesn't go on, it ain't gonna have anything to do with your state of cleanliness.

4. Do you seriously need a new car seat already?
I blindly assumed the infant seat would be usable for the first twelve months. Ugh.

5. How many times can I say "no" in one day before you think it is your new name?
Still counting...

6. Is twelve months too early to get your own place?
What about 18 months? But the market is so good right now!

I don't know that we will always come up with the "right" answers, but I do know that we'll always give it our best effort! And really, don't you think Harper would love having her own apartment? ;)

Bed head...must be an 8 month thing.

Sweet Home Alabama!

I'm glad at least one of you caught my reference to Sweet Home Alabama with last week's baby-in-a-box post. Good movie, great line: "You've got a baby....in a bar!" Well, in typical classy Peel fashion, Harper has been to not one, but two bars in the last five days!
The first inaugural bar-hop took place at Hooter's where we met Kristin and her boyfriend, Chris, as they headed down "southbound-35" on Friday evening. I didn't have a camera handy to document the occasion, but Chris did catch some rather comedic video footage of Harper and her tongue tricks. I think she was reminiscing the three glorious months she had as a breastfed baby! Boobs, boobs, everywhere!

Since Hooter's is technically a restaurant it may not officially qualify as Harper's first bar experience. I mean, c'mon, they had a bajillion highchairs, so she was obviously not the first tyke to crawl into the place (nor the last to crawl out!). But never fear for she now has gone to the Dancing Bear!



The Dancing Bear Pub is a small, non-smoking bar near the Baylor campus. You know those Baptist's don't get too crazy, so it was all good! As a celebration of Jeff passing a difficult insurance exam, we went to dinner with Harper and Nana and Poppa Peel. Jeff had been itching to hit up the Dancing Bear lately, and because they serve food from Food for Thought--tonight was his chance! Despite being at a highchair-free establishment, a good time was had by Peels of all ages. Unlike any bar experience I've ever had (all former and current partners in crime can keep their mouths shut right about now!), tonight was low-key and laid back. Honestly, there may have been a maximum of eight other patrons at the Pub. Chili's might have made for a more raucous night if that had been what we were looking for!


21 months?

Don't worry - the only thing Harper drank tonight was an 8oz bottle of Similac!

HP was so woozy that she had to be carried out of the bar by her grandpa! How embarrassing!

So, yes, I brought a baby into a bar. I would do it again in a heartbeat if only to recreate the look on the face of the newly minted 21-year old chick who didn't notice our wee babe until we made our exit. Close your mouth, dear - you look like a trout!

I see your true colors...

There came a day within the last seven months when Harper began showing her true colors. It is truly amazing to think of Harper in her early weeks and months; she was basically a living, breathing lump. A lump of baby that ate, pooped and slept. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Slowly, she added new tricks to her bag. She began smiling, laughing, rolling, and flipping. Now she is babbling, crawling and standing. Now she is also stubborn. She has a sense of humor. She can fake cry with them best of 'em to get her way. She loves her dog. She is easily amused. She flirts. She loves it when her daddy dances with her in his arms. She loves being swooped up high in the air. She gets mad. I mean, she gets M-A-D! She thinks her mom is silly. She loves her mom's ridiculous dances. (At least I hope I'm not making a fool out of myself for nothing!) She becomes less of a baby and more of a real, live miniature human being with each day that passes. These are the days that compel me to soak up her vulnerable and needy moments, yet stare in wonder as she accomplishes new feats and milestones.

I'm proud to be her mom. I'm proud to have Harper Elle Peel as my daughter. I'm thankful for my wonderful and loving husband, Jeff. I wouldn't be half of the mother I am without his support. He's a great dad, too, but we can talk about that in June when he gets his own holiday!

I love my family, and I couldn't imagine my life without them. On this Mother's Day, let me thank you--Jeff, Harper and Wrigley--for all the joy you bring to my life. However, I won't thank you for all of the laundry and dishes you bring to my life. No, really, you shouldn't have...it's too much, honestly!

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Ok, who feels like belting out some Cyndi Lauper with me now? "I see your truuuue colors, and that's why I looooooove you..." That's what I'm talking 'bout!

I like big butts and I cannot lie!

It may have been an early Mother's Day present. Maybe it was a belated Cinco de Mayo present. Or maybe I was dreaming and it didn't really happen at all! I'm not entirely sure what I did to earn his welcome assistance, but Jeff gave Harper her bath on Saturday morning. Evidently, his bath time protocol differs greatly from my own. How else would the kid end up buck naked in her closet?


Caught in the act!


Jeff said her bootie looks like two giant hams!

Oooh, even more toys over there!

My cutie-patootie with a ham hock bootie!

(Breyer--I bet you thought this blog entry was going to be about you, didn't ya? Dear Diary...)

You've got a baby...

...in a box! Finally, I've found a way to keep Harper entertained and, more importantly, contained for 4-6 minutes.

Just be glad she wasn't hanging out in a bar. Yet. ;)

Wrigley is famous! Well, sort of.

Let's face it. The Waco Trib is somewhat lacking, so I still read the Austin-American Statesman online whenever I can. While browsing yesterday I noticed a link for the Statesman's Dachshund Dog Show, and of course, I felt compelled to submit pictures of the greatest weenie dog I know! I checked back a few minutes ago to see if my pictures were approved. As if my little Piggie wouldn't make the cut!

Wrigley's pint-sized pal, Harper, co-starred in three of the photos. My two girls, Wrigley Louise and Harper Elle--I'm so proud!

Visit the slideshow and check out pics #106-110. I assume the picture numbers will change as more photos are added...but they are there for now, so click fast and enjoy!

Next step...

No, she isn't walking yet. Sorry to get your hopes up for a juicy, yet premature, update! I've noticed Harper has been trying to pull up on furniture, cabinets, bookshelves, and me, so I decided it was time for her to graduate to the next stage of toys. Seriously, she nearly de-pantsed me while I brushed my teeth a few days ago. New toys it is!

I also had a dream on Saturday night filled with strange occurrences and oddities. One of the more boring dream sequences featured Harper playing with a certain Fisher Price toy. I didn't know the name of it, but I must have seen it during a previous Toys R Us excursion and subconsciously filed it away in the "not yet" bin. This dreamy toy was basically a table that the kiddos stand around while bashing, tapping, licking, sliming and pushing assorted buttons that then emit assorted noises.

Fast forward to Sunday morning's edition of the Waco Trib and the current Toys R Us sales ad, and voila! Dream toy is on sale this week along with another must-have musical sit-stand-push toy. It was on like a prawn who yawns at dawn! (Sorry, that is pretty much my T.V. quote of the moment. I've been trying to squeeze it in whenever remotely relevant.)



If you look closely, you can see the steady stream of drool courtesy of a teething baby. Gross!

She can really whale on the gee-tar! Rock Band, anyone??

Phone, laptop, piano....she's got the works!

Not surprisingly, the boxes won out over the shiny new toys in the end. What can I say? A kid with a box and an imagination is a kid after my own heart!

The last picture in this sequence could have been of Harper wielding the screwdriver I used to assemble the dream toys, but luckily I had sense enough to grab it from her hands rather than grab my camera. Whew!

Up, up and away!

I may have exaggerated with the "away" part. She didn't go anywhere, but Harper did pull herself up twice this afternoon. She was first lured into a standing position by the sight of Wrigley and the much-admired remote control lying side by side on the couch. Then she saw ol' Dozey-boy frolicking in the backyard during her second go-around. I'm sure she was surprised--he doesn't frolic often, or ever, really.

Wrigley looks at Harper's feet as if to say "whaaaaaaaaat?"


She frequently pulls up onto her knees and practices her balancing act.


Having a blast with her new toys!


She will eventually be able to walk behind this toy. Methinks she'll be vacuuming the floors in no time!