"When you soar like an eagle, you attract the hunters."

Sure I could have chosen a meaner bird, a bigger bird, or a more handsome bird, but I didn't. I chose the bald eagle as more of a reminder for T and myself.

The world loves to tear down those who are soaring like eagles; those who take the good (but not necessarily the high) road instead of weaseling around. Our culture identifies people with what they have accomplished, how much money they have earned, and what they have screwed up. When Adam has flown out of the nest we will have raised him in, will he have been inspired by our example to soar virtuously? Or will he have seen that it is easier and more profitable (and therefore better) to build vain legacies, hoard wealth, and destroy and neglect relationships?

To Adam I would say that I am sorry we have to bring him into such a crazy world. But we promise to give him the tools he needs to navigate the polluted herds with the knowledge that while he is one of them, he can hold himself to a more honorable code and really fly.

Rawr.

Tigers wakes up in the morning and eats a bear for breakfast. Being so completely hardcore, it's not a surprise that tigers actually have no natural predators. These guys are kind of like people: we all know what it feels like to be on the top of the food chain. Booyah.

Some may say, "Why not have painted a Lion? The king pin cat." Because lions need their pride. Tigers can, and often do, fly solo. Like Han Solo. I'm going to teach Adam that you don't need pride, in fact, it often gets in the way of good decision-making. So what if I'm not using the same definition of pride- it's my painting. The point is, a tiger mentality will help Adam be independent of his peers, being who he is confidently.

That's not to say he won't have friends and love his family. See, doesn't this just warm your heart? This little guy is all cuddly with his fuzzy butt and he loves his mom.

Now get your candy ass out of that computer chair and wrestle with your cub!

Last, but not least, the majestic bald eagle. Coming soon.

If you have to be a bear, be a grizzly.

The next animal Adam will learn to respect and imitate is the grizzly bear. Weighing in at 750-1000 lbs. and standing 6-8' tall on its hind legs, this is not a creature to be trifled with. Don't be deceived by the nonchalant look in his eye; it is only his rock hard confidence in all those rippling muscles covered by silky fur.

Heck, you have to be the Hulk just to walk away from a fight with one of these bad boys.

I know what you're thinking: "Liz, grizzly bears are brown and yours is black. What's up with that?"

Let me tell you something, grizzlies choose to be brown. They could be black if they wanted. Besides, the name "grizzly" comes from their "grizzled" or gray-tipped fur. Yeah, like millions of tiny silver-tipped spears, just begging for some stupid werewolf to make a move.

Adam will learn, like a grizzly, that some fights must be fought to the death, and some are simply not worth fighting. He will be instilled with their sense of protection and provision for those for whom they are responsible. Plus, he'll probably have really great hair and thus, a way with the ladies.

I think this bear just killed Rambo and stole his cigar.

Next up: the Tiger, king of the jungle, just ask Shere Kahn

Khutspe: The Lesson of the Dragon

Lots of first time parents worry about what their kids will be like. I think the best way to ensure your child turns out to be a winner is to bombard him with images of ferocity from birth.

People ask me if I've started nesting. The answer is yes, and no. When you are waiting for your husband to come home from across the world so you can move across the country and then have a baby a few weeks later, nesting is kind of a. insignificant, and b. impossible.

But recently I have had urges to hunt and gather for our wild cave-baby. However, the thought of moving buttloads of baby stuff is not appealing. So I satiate myself with small projects.

Pictured above is the first of a series of four seriously badass nursery paintings. I dare you- no, I triple-dog dare you to find a more hardcore image to lull your newborn to sleep with dreams of blood-drenched battles of fierce animal encounters struggling for territorial rights. I even found this website that pitted the komodo dragon against an alligator, and obvi, the dragon won. Everybody knows you can only defeat a dragon, or any member of it's family, with a lance and full armor. Your odds of survival (let's face it, that's what you really hope for when you face a dragon. Victory would be audacious.) rise if you're a man. This woman was stupid enough to be a woman.

Adam is going to be born reeking with khutspe. I probably won't even have to push; he'll just bust out swinging the umbilical cord like nun chucks, taking down a couple nurses before he realizes there isn't imminent danger. Just when he feels safe with us, I'll have the Rabbi come in for the Brit Milah (circumcision ceremony).

Eventually I want to write stories that go with each painting.

Next up: the grizzly bear.

"If you have to be a bear, be a grizzly."

"Cherie"

I know it's a little early to be thinking of Brownie #2, but Tom and I already had a girl's name picked out if that's what Adam turned out to be. Some people won't reuse names for subsequent babies, but we love "Cherie" so much, if we ever have a girl you can bet on the dogs that's what she'll be called.

The best things happen when my iPod is on shuffle. This afternoon, "Rambling Through the Avenues of Time" by Flight of the Conchords popped up and I thought of "Cherie" and her lavender cigarettes.

So this one goes out to, well, I guess nobody who's in existence yet.

Speculation

Take this...

and mix it with this...Adam, you've got some good genes to pull from. Make me proud.

Dear Threadless,

It would be really lovely if you offered your shirts in maternity sizes. I wouldn't have had to begrudgingly buy my tops from Motherhood Maternity (yuck). I would MUCH rather have dropped $20 a shirt for one of yours than one of their mumu-esque creations. Please, please save fun, witty, pregnant girls like me from having to give pathetic and cheap maternity stores my business.

Honest to unicorns pooping sugar treats, I wore Marshmallow Factory until my fifth month and I was afraid the stretching would ruin it for post-baby wear. My In a Comic Book has a whole right on the belly from all the love I've given it. My husband gets to wear his In Case of Zombies (he has two; yes, of the same shirt) while mine sits in the bottom of a drawer, untouched for the past two months. So, if you could, make me a Mister Mitten's Big Adventure in a swell-bellied medium, please.

Thank you; that is all.

Liz Brown