Someone gave me a pair of Robeez when Lillia was a baby, and I was very disappointed when she grew so much that I couldn't squeeze her tiny tootsies into them anymore. These things are the best. I have made them my standard baby shower/baby welcoming gift for my friends and family. Which means I have purchased approximately 274 pairs. In the past year.

These ones are for my sister Lacey's newest little girl, Kaydia. I finally got to meet her and bestow the gift on Mother's Day. At just over a month old, Kaydia doesn't speak very well. But it was pretty clear to me she thought they were bitchin'.

My sister has been buying these Story People prints for herself and as gifts for years. I bought this one in Seattle for Lillia's room. It is one of many that gave me chills when I read it.

"For a long time, there were only footprints & laughter in our dreams & even from such small things, we knew we could not wait to love you forever."

This is the completely insensible and totally irresistible Gymboree outfit I got Lillia for her birthday. After all, what is the point in having a little girl if you can't dress her up in pigtails and an abundance of tulle every once in a while?

One of the unique challenges my sister will have with twins, I think, is trying to find outfits that are similar but not the same, and that are equal to one another in adorability.

I fully intend to help her overcome this challenge.

I have entered Lillia's picture in a few cute kid contests over the past year and a half. Before you get all judgemental on my ass, realize that the prizes for these contests are huge amounts of money toward college, and I was not required to put her in a single tanning bed or use any hairspray at all.

Also, if you enter at TheCuteKid.com, you can order one of these canvas portraits in a variety of sizes and for a reduced price. See the last photo I posted of Lillia? It's going to be next. And if it doesn't win, I'll know that something at TheCuteKid is terribly, terribly amiss.

I have never before in my life even considered purchasing an original piece of art. I often wish I was the kind of person who purchased original art, but I'm just not that cool. Or rich. I have no idea how much this particular piece of art costs, but if I can somehow work it out, I hope to buy it for Lillia's room, of all places.

It's by artist Amanda Woodward, who explains this piece is about how smells can trigger memories of childhood. That phenomenon is one of my favorite things in the world.

I bought these dresses for Lillia yesterday, and I can't stop thinking about them. I'm pretty sure that when it's finally warm enough for her to wear them, and I run into people I haven't seen in years at the store, the lake, or my local correctional center, the conversation will begin something like this: Oh my gosh, how are you? Look at this dress!

Couch couch, bo bouch, banana fanna fo fouch! Mmm, smells like newness.

P.S. Please disregard last post. TOTALLY over it.

This is a puzzle that one of Lillia's many aunties got her for her birthday. For a while, she just loved running around chewing on the shapes, then she ignored it, and then she started actually using it as it was intended: like a puzzle. Even though she tends to get VERY frustrated and throw things such as circles and diamonds, for example, when she can't get them to fit in their respective places just right immediately, she keeps trying. I help out sometimes, and casually mention the name of the shapes as we're working with them. The other night, Matt and I were trying to finish our dinner while Lillia tried to climb us like trees. I finally told her to go get her oval (it appears to be her favorite). Low and behold, she returned with the oval. Matt then sent her on a mission for the heart and said he would - and I quote - "shit" if she actually came back with the heart. She came back with a different heart-shaped toy, which I actually find more impressive as it indicates she recognizes the heart shape and doesn't just think this one little piece of the puzzle is the only heart in existence.

Anyhoodle, I have since discovered that she knows pretty much all the shapes on the puzzle, except maybe the square and the rectangle, and can even say their names. (Ya dude, even triangle.) I think perhaps this puzzle is magical. Or maybe she is just a genius. Either way.

I'd attacked the stainless steel drip plates on my stove several times, various cleaning solutions and contraptions in hand, with no luck. They were layered in a thick, yellow grease and, being that Matt's favorite dinners I make are crispy chicken strips and hamburgers, I have no idea where said grease came from. I gave up on getting them clean and started scouring this city and the internet for replacements. The drip plates are rectangular instead of circular like the drip plates on the rest of the world's stoves, so I was pretty much SOL. I thought maybe one day I'd have time to sit and scrape the sludge off with a flat head screwdriver (isn't that what those are for?), but had basically given in to the fact that I was going to have to live with greasy drip plates.

Then one day, when I was not even in a particularly cleaning mood, I remembered how impressed I was when I bought a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser at the behest of my sister (thank you, 2 of 8 ) and used it to wash Matt's oily fingerprints from the refrigerator door handles. They are that textured plastic material, and they are white, and nothing, NOTHING would get them clean. Except the Magic Eraser. I looked at the drip plates, grabbed a Magic Eraser out of the cabinet, and began scrubbing intensely. AND THAT SHIT CAME RIGHT OFF. Like freakin' magic.