I have a confession to make. When Q was itty-bitty and taking baths in her little infant tub, I straight up hated it. One would think that a new mom like me giving her precious, squishy little babe her first baths would be so joyous and fun. Well, joyous and fun they were not. I don’t know if it was because I let the nurses’ words of “advice” get a little too far in my head from my stay in the hospital—“keep her covered, make it quick, wash her head with this spongey-thingy and FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT GET WATER IN HER EARS”—or because it was so much work, but to me it just felt more like a chore than a moment of bonding.

You’re probably right, it was the nurses.

Lets just say the tub didn’t last long and you may find my feelings a bit familiar from a  previous post. I had used it in my master bath, but the counter space was limited (and the only option since I was trying to recover with being cut from here to Timbuktu and being on my knees leaning forward was absolutely NOT happening). The up and downstairs guest bathrooms were out since there was zero counter space, and ironically the kitchen was one of the coldest rooms in the house for her to be chillin’ with her little lady bits literally chillin’. I’ll admit, most of my hate for that kind of tubby time stemmed from my paranoia that she’d freeze to death (this is coming from a gal who has to towel-dry before I even think about opening my shower door), but I’ll blame the nurses for that one too.

Turns out as babies grow, you grow out of certain feelings too. When we transitioned from that little tub to the kitchen sink with her Blooming Bath, it wasn’t so bad. Until she tried crawling out of the sink.

I feel like I have to share this kind of post today because I realized last night that not only has bath time become a favorite part of the day for both Q and myself, but that I also snap some of my best photos of her having fun in a sea of bubbles and toys. And its Monday, so I’ll go out on a limb and guess that someone other than myself needs a weekly dose of cuteness.

Im going to be selfish and say me especially, since she cried for seven hours straight today because she’s sprouting two top teeth straight from hell.

But you’d never guess it from these photos!




Our bath time routine looks something like this:

While I get everything ready (towels, water, jam jams, etc), she hangs out in her room with Jetta. Okay, so Im omitting a little bit of info. The real story is she hangs out with Jetta and tortures the poor little guy, who by the way is SO good with her in case anyone is wondering why on earth I would leave an infant with a cat. For example, here is where I rank on his shit list compared to where she ranks.

She was a tiny terror one day and kept grabbing at him while he was trying to take a nap. If you wanna know where to really grind a cats’ gears, grab and twist where the hind leg meets the belly. Youch. But all it really took that day was one real good yank on his little furry tail for him to turn around, take one hard look at her, turn and bite me on the leg and bolt out of the room. She thought it was hilarious.

I think thats where they began their lifelong friendship. And yes, we’re continually working with her on how to treat the cat with more respect, you know, for those abuse-singing naysayers who might catch the wrong idea from this post.

For the record, Jetta is like one of my own children and my sister jokes that if I could push him around in his own stroller, I would. I totally would.

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Okay, back to the routine. On the nights that Jason is home, I get the bath ready while he gets her ready which usually consists of removing her clothes and bringing her to me to drop her diaper right before she hits the water. We’ve learned how quickly a baby can pee on you post-diaper removal and nipped that in the bud real fast. I spend a few minutes washing her up and down, she likes her hair washed the best, and then I let her play for 5 or 10 minutes. The only tears that usually happen are because of two things: she takes a handful of bubbles and rubs them into her eyes or she pitches a FIT when I pull her out.

I don’t think making her take swim lessons will ever be a problem.




Alright mom, thats enough.

I swear she inherited that look straight from my mother.


Whats your favorite part of the day? 🙂

Cast Iron Skillet Bread

Say what?!

When I was younger my mom used to make bread all the time. White. Wheat. Applesauce. Totally delicious. Come to think of it, Im pretty sure she still makes it but mostly for the holidays. I remember one Thanksgiving a few years back my siblings and I decided to take her fresh homemade bread and throw it in the deep fryer after the turkey was done. To say that she was less than pleased that her beloved bread was fried is a severe understatement.

Side note: If you’ve never had deep fried turkey then you are seriously missing out.

Anyway, for years now Ive wanted to make my own bread but didn’t want to deal with the hassle of another small appliance (i.e. bread maker) and all of the old-school recipes I had ever discovered required a lot of work for someone like me who was just in the experimenting phase. So while I was perusing Pinterest the other day I just happened to stumble upon the most brilliant idea Ive ever heard. Easy no-knead bread in a cast iron skillet seemed almost too good to be true. Easy? Easy?! I like easy. Im a new mom. I NEED easy. I also like Rosemary and olive oil so I was winning all across the board that day.

Here my friends, is the recipe I found. I had to give major props to the person who came up with this because it really was that easy. Mine didn’t come out as pretty; it didn’t brown as well and I didn’t have any fresh Rosemary on hand so the color as a whole was lacking a bit. I could have left it in the oven for longer to get that golden brown color but as a first time bread maker I didn’t want to take the chance  of drying it out so I left it in for another five minutes.


I got a little nervous when I felt the outside after pulling it out of the oven. It was a little crustier than Im familiar with on bread but that worry subsided pretty quickly when I took a knife to that baby. The warmth and aroma that busted out of that bread made me want to stand with my face over it all day long. The inside reminded me of a Focaccia bread but less compact and it was DELICIOUS. I may or may have not eaten a pretty significant portion of that loaf with a massive bowl of dipping oil.

I guess you’ll never know. 😉