Yeah, Baby!

Olive's future tormentor, er, best friend, has arrived!

Kisses for the baby taquito. 

Quinn Clementine Huang was delivered via c-section in the early morning of June 16th. 8 pounds, 20 inches of fuzzy goodness. (Our healthy little girl entered the world with a light coat of shoulder hair!) Josh, Olive and I could not be more grateful. 

And baby makes FOUR!

Though some shots taken at the hospital (see below) may suggest otherwise... 

You take the good, you take the bad... 

Aside from the occasional tantrum thrown due to hunger, Quinn is a very reasonable baby. The nurses at Good Samaritan hospital were amused by our continuous reference to our little one as "reasonable," but there's no better way to describe her demeanor. Her cries are usually for good reason (burp, hunger, diaper change), and once said issue is resolved, she is quick to quiet down. 

Quinn's also proven to be a good feeder (which isn't to say that the first week of breastfeeding wasn't challenging) and a deep sleeper (I find myself tickling her feet to keep her awake during feedings). Giving birth to an all-around easy-going tot is like landing a golden ticket. Quinn is - dare I say it - the unicorn of babies! A closer look at our the pipsqueak here... 

One week old. In a state of drunken stupor. I am Quinn's cow. 

She is the perfect arrangement of atoms, is she not? 

In Good Company

The photographs of my incredibly talented friend, Cydney Puro - whom I've raved about before (read here) - are being featured in the too-cool-for-school online publication, This is Paper. Her work is gorgeous and rad. Take a look HERE.

Mama Said Knock You Out

When not on hovering over my daughter to keep her Dora the Explorer underpants dry (we're potty training season here in the Huang household), I can be found wallowing in self-pity over my manatee state. Seriously? I don't even own a full-length mirror because for as long as we've lived in this house, I've been incubating little humans (first with Olive, now with baby Quinn). Pregnancy is not a good look for me (Snork snout bellybutton, veiny breasts topped with intimidating nipples). Seeing my reflection depresses me.

However, when not preoccupied with either of the above-mentioned, I've been enjoying myself at Refuge Design Build. Visuals of a few of the projects I've been up to:

Project Maltman. Duplex renovation. The whole shebang.

I asked the guys to take the stairs.

They did as they were told.

GASP.

Photo from the first day of demolition at Maltman.

Back-to-basics.

Love it.

Lower unit of Maltman.

Looking like a feature on HGTV's House Hunters Gone International.

Lower unit of Maltman. 

More framing to come down to make for an open floor plan.

Imagine Jenna Lyon's former kitchen inserted into this space.

 You know, the much-loved, much-pinned space from her Brooklyn brownstone...

Yes. It's happening.

Project West Hollywood. Single-family residence renovation. Kitchen and then-some.

Shot from cabinetry install day.

Farrow & Ball's Cornforth White is never a bad way to go, people.

West Hollywood.

Breakfast nook to come.

West Hollywood.

A masculine palette of denim, ticking stripe and linens for the nook.

In a nutshell? I've been knocking a lot of stuff down (with the help of my contractors). Finished product photos due mid-April. Just had to share some work-in-progress shots. I find perfection in the imperfection!

P.S. Refuge Design Build business cards designed by the talented Aileen Cheng are in and they are gorgeous! So thankful for you, Aileen!

Stuff I Like

While surfing the web for home renovation-related items for work-related projects, I can't help but save images into a folder on my desktop titled: STUFF I LIKE.  This past weekend, I decided to do some desktop cleaning, and came to the realization that I am a total freak. The following images will give you a taste of the stuff I've been hoarding so dearly. 

Alas, I fear for the future of my daughter.

Look Who's Talking

"Always be yourself. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then always be a unicorn." 

The little booger is now a month over the 2 year mark and has become quite the talker. (I wonder where she gets it from.) My BFF, Pam, had warned me that this would happen. Not so much the fact that toddlers eventually talk, rather the fact that when they start, they just can't stop. Words that shouldn't be strung together are being strung together and come babbling out at embarrassingly loud volumes. And yes, the phrases aren't always appropriate.

"Mama! BIG MONKEY DICK!"

I stop chewing my chicken nugget (we're at the LA Zoo). I have no words.

"Mama, Mama! BIG BROWN MONKEY DICK!"

Olive looks annoyed by the fact that her message of alert is not processing. The look of confusion on my face, on the other hand, is. She points at a sign with a monkey. Next to it is a long, brown walking stick... Ahh. Reminder to self. Your daughter's mind is good and pure. Mine, on the other hand, is clearly in the gutter.

Ay... Kids say the darndest things.

I Swallowed a Beach Ball

As is typical of my FREQUENT blog posts* I shall open with an apology. An apology for being so darn absent. For those of you raising little human beings, you understand. We have to keep the munchkins alive and healthy (the baseline for motherhood), and it's not as easy as it looks. Look at what I'm dealing with:

Ahh... The beauty of potty training. In the kitchen. 

Anyhow, Olive aside (she's a time-suckage, so a photo was warranted), I have been juggling my day job. Refuge Design Build completed two home renovations in time to ring in 2014, and is now attempting to deliver three more happy homes before ankle-biter 2.0 makes her grand debut in June. Lots to look forward to. But in the meantime...

I am looking like I swallowed a beach ball. 

I'm a mere 5 months along, but am looking the way some women look at 8 or 9 months. I suppose it doesn't help that my torso is like that of a midget. Where else is baby Quinn supposed to go?** Even Olive has taken notice of her mother's rapidly expanding waistline. 

"Mama, BIG."

"BIG MAMA."

"Mama, mountain." (Pointing at my stomach.) 

In the work place, I'm a proprietor of good taste, or well, one of slightly-above-average taste. I try my best to look presentable, but baby Quinn's lil' condo is hindering my usual fashion choices. I'm She-Hulking out of my go-to shrunken leather jackets, my button-ups are pulling at the chest, and my pants... let's just stay I'll be looking into our crawlspace tonight in search of the maternity jeans I wore when incubating Olive. My jeans are getting uber-tight, and the last thing I want to be doing is running down Sunset Junction chasing a button that's sprung from my beloved Rag & Bones. My only connection to fashion as of late is how similar my belly button is to Michael Kors' nasty belly button.*** WARNING: You cannot unsee what you are about to see, so look away if you don't want to scar your eyeballs for life. 

Ay-yai-yai.

Will be posting more regularly in the coming weeks because I've been having more and more thoughts about my munchkins which I feel are worth sharing, exploring, and making fun of...

* Line should be typed out in font, SARCASTICA. 

** That's right, people. We're naming ankle-biter 2.0, "Quinn". Olive's favorite name, one which she refers to Thomas the Steam Engine by, is "Quimby." When le huz and I found out ankle-biter 2.0 would be a girl, we thought, "Why not let Olive name her future tormentor? It's only fair." So "Quinn B. Huang" it is. We've yet to figure out what that middle initial "B" is going to stand for, but are open to suggestions. 

*** I don't have an outy, but my inny (by the way, am I spelling these technical terms correctly?), but my inny is totally flipping itself inside out to become one. OMIGOSH. I'm grossing myself out.

Supermodel, Work

New perspective.

Taking a moment.

Olive and the nectarine.

Death of the nectarine.

The talented Emily Ulmer photographed my nugget a couple weeks ago.

Above are a few of the magical images that resulted.

I gasped when I saw them...

A Little Out There

Strolling with pops on the grounds of Cabot Cove in Kennebunkport.

Olive, you're barely a toddler, yet I'm already imagining how exciting it's going to be the day you're of age to attend summer camp. Your aunt Cindy and I attended day camp as kids (nothing fancy, just the YMCA), and the memories we have from our summers together (elaborate friendship bracelets and disgustingly stinky feet) are ones we will treasure forever. Gosh, peanut. If only you can be so lucky.

From Iceland to France to England to the East Coast of the United States, this summer you clocked-in some mayjah mileage. Camp Mama made sure your days abroad were packed with activity; and while you probably won't be remembering any of it, I have plenty of photographic evidence proving that you were well-entertained and living life to its very fullest.

With the passing of Labor Day, I'm rushing to post snapshots from your final days of summer 2013. You were a little out there. Perhaps too much so? Your grandaunts won't stop pointing out your toasty skin tone, but hey, you're a California girl.

You dislike hats, but seem to like Mama's.

Clam Shack, Kennebunk ME

 Last summer, you couldn't get enough of this stuff.

This summer, you only wanted fries.

My little foodie, no more.

 Like your mama, you get excited when in the presence of baked goods. 

Congdon's Doughtnuts, Wells, ME

 Admiring some whoopie whilst clinging on to a donut hole.

You know your priorities.

Congdon's Doughnuts, Wells, ME

 You do not share Mama's love for antiquing and thrifting.

You prefer running through parking lots - under the careful watch of daddy.

 Like father, like daughter.

Yours was an Icelandic yogurt-filled summer.

 You have a favorite word.

All that goes on top of your head, Naked juice caps included, instantaneously become, "Hat."

 Gaga doesn't wear pants.

You don't either.

 There's so much more to Maine than lobster rolls,

but your father and I don't care.

Lobster Shack, Cape Elizabeth, ME

Why so serious? 

 Happy duo.

Boston Children's Museum, Boston, MA

Family time with your adorable cousin, Paul.

Unintended bubble bath.

Boston Children's Museum, Boston, MA

 You made it out to the 'bu.

Malibu, CA

You soared like a bird with the help of auntie Mai.

 Lady & the Tramp. (Mama's the tramp.)

Consuming beach-appropriate food that your daddy would never give you.

 All in all, I think it's safe to say that you had a lovely summer.

Now this blog was never supposed to be all about you, rather about mommy's stupid doodles. See blog title? Yes, Mama's a bit of a narcissist. But seeing that you are my greatest source of inspiration, these entries are more relevant than you think.