have a holly bally christmas

These are the balls our little guy got for Christmas. I know! He totally scored. You would think balls would get old. But no, not to this guy.

We came home to a bounty of presents left by Santa while we were traveling. Every wrapped present was met with wonder -- "Is there a ball in there?" And when he discovered the contents, he seemed unimpressed. Most of the enthusiasm he displayed came from a bag of colorful tennis balls from Norman's stocking. He decided he would SHARE Norman's tennis balls and began tossing them around the room with glee. It was then that I realized we could've saved ourselves a lot of money.

another long-distance dedication to mark and amy

This time it's a drum solo.




Later that same day...

look what we came home to the other day

Let the record show that the babysitter is quite adept at the building of the block towers.

RIP 6FU

I am in mourning. This weekend, we watched the very last episode of the last season of Six Feet Under.

I can't tell you how sad I am that the series is over. I never really felt this way about a TV show before. Sure, I was a little disappointed when they canceled Freaks and Geeks. Then there was that whole Felicity thing. But this was different. No other show affected me like this show. The acting. The writing. It was flawless. Sniff, sniff. Now it's gone! Sniff.

I told Ed that we may as well cancel our Netflix subscription. Oh, how I looked forward to those episodes arriving in the mail.
Ed, if you're reading, this might make a nice stocking stuffer for your favorite wife.

Gotta go, we're going to watch the commentary now. I just know I'm going to tear up. Again.

introducing, rosie

Add Rosie to the cast of characters our little boy can turn into at the drop of a hat.

Rosie is Calliou's sister who had the flu in one episode. Rosie (as played by Raisin) is a very sick and lethargic little girl who has to lie down. She sometimes moans and asks you to rub her back as she coughs and puts on her most sick-looking face. The best part about Rosie is that she likes to snuggle. In fact, she'll lay still in your arms like a little baby as you carry her around and say, "Oh poor, Rosie..."

I think this is by far our favorite character Raisin plays because it's very funny. He's quite the little actor and he slips in and out of character seemlessly. And always, while in character, insists that we call him by that character's name, be it Mr. Noodle, Calliou, Felix or Rosie among others.

Now that I know he is so easily influenced by TV, I need to get my hands on some old Hazel episodes.

i want a do-over

Shoot. I wasn't in love with this year's Christmas card picture. I really wanted a picture of little e on Santa's lap. But anyone who gets our card will see that's not exactly what I got. Close, but not exactly.

But then today Ed was performing some of his computer photo wizardry. And what do I see on his screen? The perfect Christmas card photo. But it's too late now -- the cards are already ordered. Do you know how much this kills me?? Ed does because he heard me whine about it all afternoon.

So when you get our card, just pretend this is the picture instead.*


*(That is, if you ever GET our card because foolishly I ordered from the same place this year and they like to take their good ol' sweet time making the cards -- like they're doing some sort of personal hand-etched interpretation of the photo.)

christmas sentiment

You mean to tell me, you dragged me out in this Bill Cosby sweater to wait in line FOR SANTA?!?!?

tiny little balls

Like the rule goes, the cheap stuff or the stuff you don't buy? That's the stuff kids will play with. Case in point, one of little e's favorite games is "Dote Ball." This is played by kicking or bopping the SPAM beach ball up the stairs (the dotes) over and over until the ball lands on the second floor. Then you climb the stairs to retrieve it, kick it back down the stairs and start over -- batting away until it gets stuck again.

Another favorite toy? Tiny Little Balls. Every time we go to the park, we hunt for Tiny Little Balls. These are colorful little b-b-sized plastic balls that we find in random spots throughout the park. Our trip is not complete unless we find one -- it's like a veritable Easter egg hunt. Once we think we've found them all, we find four more the next visit.

Tiny Little Balls are great fun. You can scoop them up with your toy truck. Dump them out. Build a block chute and chute them down the slide. You can drop them through the hole of your ball-pounder toy and watch them all go down the ramp like tiny little gumballs. You can drop them on the floor and watch them scatter underneath all the furniture... Inevitably, every time I vacuum, I can count on sucking up at least three TLBs. Thankfully we have a bagless vacuum, so I can usually spot them in the clear cannister. In fact, just the other day Ed and I sorted through a few pounds of dog hair and dust bunnies just to save three little tiny balls.

Today, we hit the Tiny LittLe Ball motherload. I think we counted 22. Which if you've ever hunted for Little Tiny Balls is quite an impressive feat. You should've seen us -- cherring every time we found one, digging them out of sidewalk cracks with keys --- Little e was so excited. The highlight of the hunt was when he found a broken one. Because if there's anything he can appreciate more than a ball, it's a broken ball. You know what those colorful circles are in the begining pages of "The Very Hungry Caterpillar" are, don't you?" Yes, those would be broken balls.

So we got home, counted our finds and added them to our ever-growing stash. Here they are in all their glory.

jingle balls

Check out those rapper moves.

a little something we did today

Mama did lots of worm and ball making while little e opened as many colors as he could at once.

If you want a serious childhood flashback, just take a whiff of a can of Play-doh.

as seen on tv

Lately Raisin's really into imitating what he sees on TV. Some of his favorites? Holding change, eating a hotdog and playing a drum very loudly just like in one episode of Caillou he has seen over and over again. "Like Caillou" he says.

But this is not to be outdone by "Like Mr. Noodle" wherein he makes his head move in funny ways. Or when Mr. Noodle rolls over his giant ball to pick up his drum sticks.

Then there was the other day, when we saw one of the Harlem Globetrotters spinning a basketball on his finger. With this one, he often hands me a very small ball and says, "Mama, like TV." It never fails to disappoint him that mama can't spin basketballs on her finger.

But it's not just the TV he's influenced by. After spending Thanksgiving weekend at Ed's parents, it was all about his older boy cousins. He would deliberately step on a train track he had just put together "Like Ian." Then, after spending an hour or so with his other cousins last night he wanted to play basketball "Like Lilah" after the two of them had a serious game of one-on-one with the door-mounted hoop.

I get the feeling it might be in our best interest to rent a few DVDs on Mother Theresa.

two more photos that truly embody the spirit of christmas

Someone else who didn't enjoy the decorating of the tree -- because it ate into his walk time.




Someone working their way to Santa's naughty list.

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas

Saturday we put up the Christmas tree. Yes, a little early, we know, but we're a family who likes Christmas trees. We like them so much we decided to put it upstairs again. That way, we can go to bed with Christmas tree lights and wake up to them thanks to the handy timer.

We debated putting the tree up while the little boy was asleep like we did last year because that very effectively blew his mind. But we decided that he might enjoy helping us. Because if there's anything that kid likes to do, it's help.

The Christmas excitement began when he spotted the Green Bay Packer football ornament lovingly bestowed upon us by a family member who knows how much we love the game of football. The fact that he spotted a ball ornament may not sound very unusual until you consider that the ornament was still in the ornament box -- and the box was closed. You would've had to get on your hands and knees. And then crank your neck just so. And then squint your eyes to be able to see it. And you would've had to have super-natural ball-spotting poweres. Even then, you probably wouldn't have been able to see it. But little e? He takes one quick look at the ornament box and yells FOOTBALL! and continued to proclaim his excitement until he had it in his hot little hands.

Did he enjoy decorating the tree? Not so much. But we did manage to get this clip that really captures the Christmas spirit. I call it, "Uphill, downhill."

a plea to the creative people of public television

Could you please create a character appealing to and beloved by children who doesn't have an annoying voice?

Thank you.

quote of the day

(at 7 a.m.)

"Papa, play chugga chugga choo choo!"

"Papa wants to lay down for a bit."

"Papa lay up!!"

wanna know what's cute?

Last night, as we made our way to his crib, little e grabbed my t-shirt off our bed. He held tight through our whole going-to-bed routine -- the counting of the stars, the twinkle, twinkle, the turning on of the ceiling fan. As he snuggled up to it, I asked him if he wanted me to take it or if he was going to sleep with it. He said, "Sleep with mama's t-shirt." So, I thought last night was just a fluke. But tonight when Ed put him to bed, he asked for mama's T-shirt again.

And now for the Debbie Downer portion of the story. All that sweetness aside, don't think I'm not going to remove the t-shirt just as soon as I get upstairs to eliminate any risk of strangulation by said t-shirt.

a boy and his tower

care for some crackers with that cheese?

donut for hill-yee

Lately I've been trying to generate some excitement for trips to the grocery store by letting Raisin pick out a treat for the babysitter. So far, each time he has picked out a donut with sprinkles.

When Hillary arrives, he charges to the front door to proudly present her treat. And somehow he manages to convince her that he needs just a "little piece" of the donut. I try to explain that we bought it for Hillary and that's not polite to be mooching bites before she even puts her stuff down. But before I can, he's in his high chair wolfing down a chunk of donut searching for any "teeny tiny sprinkles" that may have escaped.

close call

This morning at the grocery store, the little man spotted the grocery cart disguised as toylike truck that I've been trying to avoid since he was old enough to sit up. When he spotted the steering wheel his eyes popped out of his head and he exclaimed, "Has whoa whoa...CUCAMUNGA!" Luckily, we had already done our shopping. And since it was raining, the truck-cart was all wet in the parking lot.

It's not that I'm so much a fun-killer that I refuse to let my boy discover the joy of cruising through the grocery store behind the wheel of a large automobile. I just fear the day we get there, after he's seen gay par-eeh, and it's gone. Undoubtedly, the chaos will ensue (cue psycho music). And me no like the chaos.

But something tells me we're not going to be able to avoid this one for much longer.

because one marker is never enough

why yes, he is indeed cultured

Here we are at the art museum, just moments before papa was scolded for taking pictures. Bad papa.

sybil, is that you?

At any given time, our boy can assume any one of multiple alter egos. He doesn't even give it a second thought when we call him by one of these names:

Raisin - His oldest nickname. Given to him while in utero -- at the precise time that he was the size of a Raisin. "Ray Ray" is his version.

Felix - He usually assumes this personality while playing basketball. Based on a little boy in Blues Clues who learns he has to practice to become good at basketball. "Yay, Felix!" our little boy often cheers after he makes his shot. "Felix practicing."

Yoda - This year's Halloween costume. He doesn't usually call himself by this name, but that doesn't stop Mama and Papa.

Mr. Noodle - The goofy mime from Elmo's World. He usually becomes Mr. Noodle when he plays the drums based on said Mr. Noodle's crazy drum antics on the one episode of Elmo's World he has seen multiple times.

little e - Nickname bestowed upon him by Dan and Jan. The smaller version of his papa (formerly E, now Big E since our the boy came along).

Puff - Based on the kitty Cat from Dick and Jane stories. Likes to be Puff while eating dinner - somehow, he's convinced that kitty cats eat a lot of macaroni and cheese. Also likes to be put in the tree like Puff.

Dr. Worm - This one goes back to when we used to swaddle him as a baby. He looked like a worm with one swaddler, so we'd play They Might Be Giants Dr. Worm. We still call him Dr. Worm and now he can even sing the song.

Buffy - Um, we have no idea where this one came from. Perhaps it's an imaginary friend. He brought it up in conversation a few times so now we call him that every so often -- it never fails to get a smile.

we're baaaaaaack

It's been more than a week since my last post. And I think it's safe to say (knock on wood) that despite the week plus of horrendous stomach ailments, we are not going to give birth to alien babies.

Ed and I healed a little faster. But poor little Raisin is not 100% himself yet. At least that's the excuse we're giving him for waking us up 5+ times a night asking for milk. Tonight it was peas. Yes, the boy requested that peas be brought up to his room so that he could go to sleep. Ed brought them up and reported that he did in fact eat the peas, one by one as he tried to devise his next stall tactic.

We did have a fun day today. Went to the model train museum where little e played with the Thomas the train track the whole time -- nevermind the super-dooper delux, painstakingly detailed model that replicated the city. Then we went to a garage-turned-diner and feasted on french fries and hamburgers -- because that's what you do after you've suffered a week with the stomach flu.

it's official, i feel like a mom

Yesterday Raisin puked on me. His first time ever puking. It was so sad. I don't know what was worse for him, the sickness he felt or experiencing his stomach contents being expelled from his mouth. About six loads of laundry later, I'm happy to report everything is vomit free (let's hope) -- even Target.

Today he went down for his nap before I left for work. The babysitter said that he didn't wake up until about 4. Four hour nap. Nice. He kept telling me that puking was fun. NO fun, I'd correct him. Let's hope he's confused and he doesn't develop some freak toddler eating disorder.

This just in: The husband's now sick. I'm probably next. Hello toilet bowl.

happy bloggiversary to me!

Can you believe it -- it's been a freakin' year? This marks my 169th post. Can you believe it? Neither can I. In your face blogger.com!

may the force be with you

happy (belated) halloween

my little pumpkin

what the 3-books-before-bedtime ritual has become

"Oh look, Oh my, oh my dinosaurs! Wanna read this?!?"
"No."

"How about 'David Gets in Trouble'?"
"No."

"Goodnight Moon?"
"No."

"But Not the Hippotamus?"
"No."

"Green Eggs and..."
"No."

"Old McDonald?"
"Yes."

(One down, three to go...)

"Where the Wild Things Are?"
"No."

"It's Okay to be Different?..."


"

it's official, i have soccer-mom hair

I got my haircut on Saturday. I gave my hairdresser specific instructions: more rock-n-roll, less mom...something with a little more spunk...something different... I even had a picture from a New York City hair salon: A cute banged cut, about four inches shorter than what I had, with fun little layers throughout. I think she must've been sick that day at beauty school. But apparently she passed Mom Haircut 101 with flying colors!!!!

The good news is, my boy LOVES soccer.

how to stall on your way to bed

1. Put your SPAM ball away.
2. Put your yellow ball away.
3. Put your truck away.
4. Put Norman's toy away.
5. Kiss your pumpkin goodnight.
6. Kiss Mama's pumpkin goodnight.
7. Kiss Papa's pumpkin goodnight.
8. Kiss the floor goodnight.
9. Kiss the step goodnight.
10. Ever so slowly make your way up the stairs.

sidewalk balls

Last weekend, Tom and Karen made the trip from NYC with their boy. They stayed with Chad and Suzy who have witnessed and can fully appreciate the depth of little e's love for the ball.

At one of our visits to their home, we were greeted by a trail of balls winding up the sidewalk to their front door. I managed to capture the boy's surprise and amazement on film (er, or pixels). Listen carefully to the disbelief in the form of "What the?!?!?!"


Later that same day.


Here are all the little munchkins.


And here's little e trying to bore a hole through little henry's skull with his mind.

other people's kids

Yesterday little e and I went to an indoor playground with his pal Henry and Henry's mom. We thought we'd get there early to avoid the madness, but apparently everyone else had the same idea.

The place was a zoo. There were tubes, ladders, slides with kids climbing and hanging off them like little monkies. We went to the toddler area to avoid a big-kid foot in the face. No such luck. The big kids had taken over the tot area too. At one point little e was crawling through this tube when a kid about six or seven started to CRAWL OVER him. Of course his mom was no where in sight to tell her child that maybe he shouldn't be crawling on top of a baby, so I took it upon myself. "Um, yes, exuse me, small child...can you wait til my son gets through before you take your turn." Sadly, the child must've been deaf because why else would he have five seconds later done the EXACT SAME THING AGAIN!!

So we moved on to the gym where there were balls, balls and more balls. However, there were little kids flying around on scooters too. And so what if there was a small toddler in their path?? It was a danger zone. But we stuck it out so the boy could shoot some hoops. And shoot some hoops he did while every other kid tried to steal the ball from him the minute it left his pudgy little hands.

So, here's my confession: Other people's kids really annoy me. Oh, I know, kids will be kids, but what about the little girl in the corner of the gym who monopolized each and every colored cone? My little boy wanted to use two to practice his soccer cone drills and she yanked them away from him like she was some kind of Queen of the Cones. To me, she was just a cone pig -- a cone pig who wouldn't share with my child!!!

Wait, let me clarify my confession. Of course my nieces and nephews don't annoy me -- or any children of my friends. I think more realistically it's other people who annoy me -- the mother of these kids who don't step in and say, "Little Johnny, maybe you shouldn't plow over that little boy with your scooter." Or, "You know, he's less than half your size, maybe you can give him his ball back..." Or the moms who come to the park and sit at the picnic table while the nice lady with the little boy pushes their child on the swing because the child is whining uncontrollablly to be pushed but their mama can't hear them because she's sitting a block away at a picnic table!!!

Okay, I digress. Little e had a blast at the indoor playground -- he was exhausted by the time we left and that was really the whole point. And there were some very nice kids -- big kids who quickly returned the ball to him with a big smile. Besides, I'm sure there will come a day (if there hasn't already) that he will annoy some other kid's mom.

Nahh, that will never happen.

the kid enjoys salsa

Last night I made little e a grilled cheese for dinner. I remembered seeing some mild salsa in the refrigerator that wasn't fuzzy, so I put a little dallop of it on the side. After one taste, he decided he really liked salsa. "Aiyin like salsa!" he said. It was salsa this, salsa that, salsa, salsa!!! He ended up just spooning it into his mouth. And I suspect if I had handed him the jar, he would've emptied it.

So tonight I did the same with his Smart Dog, only this time, I gave him a little more -- which he shoveled into his mouth without coming up for air. He mixed his hotdog in it. He mixed his peas in it as he proclaimed the mighty salsa elixir of the gods!

Stay tuned for next week's post when he can't stand salsa.

circus clown

This video has quickly replace "Triangle Round", an animated corporate video that Ed did for work, as little e's favorite video. I'm not sure if it's the impressive juggling talents of Uncle Bob or the crazy woman singing circus music that he appreciates most.

Sidenote: While it is in fact Uncle Bob juggling, the little dude thinks it's Uncle Mike, as he does every adult male that's not papa or either of his grandpas.

izzy vizzyts

This past weekend brought a visit from Aunt Karen, Uncle Bob and Izzy. The apple orchard was probably the highlight of the visit. So rather than bore you with all the details about how I made our dinner reservations for the wrong night and we were forced to get takeout and bring it home, we'll get right to the pictures.

Here are some pretty leaf cookies I made. Uh huh, that's right, bring it, Martha! Apparently, they were too pretty to eat because no one did (except me).


Here's the little dude realizing that dropping apples found on the ground is not as much fun as dropping them from a shopping cart.


Little e and most of his cousins (from my side). One would never guess that the one furthest left is my sister Karen's child.


And finally, I call this one Happy Boy With Apple (and Booger). And no, those aren't stunt boogers -- them babies are real.

help mama

Lately the little man has been really into helping.

Today, after returning to the 14 piles of laundry I had just folded, I learned that "Help Mama" can also mean quite the opposite. Unless he meant, "Help mama get to the koo koo parlor" in which case, yes, thank you sweetie, that WAS a big help.

please stand by

My computer is undergoing some "work" by my IT guy. It's not broken. I repeat, it's not broken.

Blogging just doesn't seem quite right on Ed's computer. Just can't seem to get the blogging juices flowing. And I don't have access to my photos, etc.

Stay tuned for pictures from Izzy, Uncle Bob and Aunt Karen's visit. Them were some good times.

say cheesy

Seems we've entered a new phase. A phase where it's impossible to take a decent picture without the boy making a goofy face.

Exhibit A


Exhibit B


Exhibit C


I rest my case.

he wore a raspberry beret

Pints of raspberries picked: 2

Pints of raspberries consumed while picking: 8




What happens if you eat too many raspberries:

paris hilton has nothing on this boy

This morning Ed had planned a special boys' day with the little man, so I could tackle a mama project.

Little e has been fascinated with buses ever since we watched Papa both board and return home on one. So the plan was that Ed would take him downtown on the bus to the new library. Norman and I dropped them off at the bustop after our walk and watched them board. Then I walked home with a dog and an empty stroller. I probably either looked like A. A crazy person with her imaginary baby. or B. A very irresponsible mom who hadn't yet realized she had lost her baby -- or if she had, she was a little too calm about it. I was tempted to scream, "HAVE YOU SEEN MY BABY??!?" to anyone who passed by, but I didn't.

I arrived home giddy with anticipation. Not that I wanted to see the boys go, but if you know me, you know that I detest clutter and the project I planned was to organize the little boy's gianormous wardrobe. We've been very lucky that we've gotten lots of great hand-me-downs from his cousin Gavin (who conveniently was born in the same month making the seasons and sizes work out well). We've also received bags upon bags from our friends who have older boys -- twins -- so everything's in duplicate. Then there was the bag of barely-worn shoes from Ed's coworker. And add to that the at least one new t-shirt that comes with every visit from Grandma and Grandpa J. It all equals two dressers and seven paper bags filled with clothing ranging in sizes up to, from what I can tell, 4.

The good thing about getting all these hand-me-downs, is I never have to buy the boy any clothes. The bad part? I never have to buy the boy any clothes. Seriously, we have barely bought the kid a thing clotheswise. Sometimes I get a little sad that I can't pick out new things for him. It's just too hard to justify -- hard, but not impossible. Recently, I did break down and bought him one of these. I mean really, how could I not??:


But the amount of clothes I sorted through this morning is just obscene. I felt so guilty seeing things that still had tags on -- things that never saw the light of day because they were the wrong size for the season. Like that adorable fuzzy bear jacket pants. Or the little Petite Bateau outfit that we received as a gift that probably cost an arm and a leg.

We dress our kid like ourselves, not very fancy. So as I was sorting through all the fancy Talbotts kids clothes from the twins, I giggled when I imagined our little guy in them. I'm not sure he's a Ralph Lauren sweater vest sporting kid. Then there were the Hanna Andersson clothing-- where do I put the size 100??

So I'm done. Well actually only Phase 1 is done. Everything's in drawers but everything over a size two is still mixed together. All the old clothes are put into Rubbermaid containers and will go up in the attic until we decide whether or not we'll try for a Raisin 2.

In the meantime, note to self: Must buy stock in Rubbermaid.

things we probably should've thought twice about saying around parrot boy

1. What the...!?!?
2. Uff da!
3. SUCKA!

cuppa joe

After a somewhat challenging day with the little dude yesterday, today I decided that no matter how cold it was outside, we were going to the park. So we did.

Then, since I've been coffee deprived for a few days, I decided we'd go to the neighborhood cafe. Mama needs her caffeine. And I bribed the boy with the promise of animal cookies once we got there.

Wow, he must've been campaigning for good boy of the year. We sat down on the couch like two adults sharing coffee. Since this place is very kid friendly, I totally expected to be sitting in the corner as he poked away at the collection of broken, germ-petrie-dish toys. But instead, we took a few books and a puzzle to our table and laughed as he stole little bites of my scone. It was a motherly awesome morning.

On our way out, he scrutinized the messiness of the floor and attempted to pick up bits of muffins he found. I wanted to buy some beans before we left because I couldn't go another day without coffee in the house. At the counter he pleaded, "Hold it, hold it, hold it!" (he likes to do his part, holding my wallet and giving the cashier my money at every transaction). The cashier responded, "He's making me a little anxious." HA! I'll give you anxious Ms. Barrista!

I think the key to our best days is keeping us both out of the house as long as possible.

Well, that and caffeine.

the best things about fall

1. Crunchy leaves
2. Flannel shirts
3. Rosy cheeks
4. Home runs

our other, more angry, son

a mother's worse nightmare

My child likes Elmo.

As much as I tried to avoid it and give Grover the hard sell, it looks like Elmo has won him over.

It started with a few innocent games of keyboard-o-rama on Sesamestreet.com. But today he requested Elmo on TV. Up until then, he hasn't really been very interested in Sesame Street. So before his nap, I pulled an episode of Sesame Street off the Tivo and we fast forwarded to Elmo's World. There he sat. Captivated. Apparently under some sort of trance brought on by Elmo's annoying, er, I mean, adorable high-pitched voice.

In the meantime, I will not stop my campaigning efforts. Long live lovable furry ol' Grover!! I just have to remember, it could be worse.

It could be Barney.

now if i could figure out a way to channel his energy and enthusiasm

After announcing that we'd be making a trip to the library, the little man did about 28 laps around the house at full speed screaming, "LIBRARY BOOK! LIBRARY BOOK! LIBRARY BOOOOOOOOOOOOOK!"

quotes of the week

Heard from stroller while on walk:
Papa. Itches. Butt.
(Lately the boy's been a tad preoccupied by his bug bites and itching. Either he had an itch on his rear this time or it was some sort of commentary regarding his papa.)

Said after watching drool fall from his mouth onto the step:
Yuck. Mess. Mama. Clean.

Heard while on the changing table:
More powder. Tickles.
(No comment.)

labor day weekend '06

Except for the part where I was hurling (and something else) my guts out the entire first night from apparent food poisoning, our long weekend up north was splendid.

There was a new game invented this year called "Tickle Splash." When you throw the rock into the water, you get tickled. Raisin loved it and made many a request for tickle splash. He also enjoyed the basketball hoop which we were able to lower enough for his amusement. But that wasn't half as fun as watching papa act like a caged gorilla on the other side of the fence.

Our trip to the grocery store the first night there, I needed a box of tissues. I let little e pick it out for me -- a huge metallic box of Puffs tissues decorated with balls. He loved that box of tissue -- until we got it back to the cabin and he realized there were no balls inside the box (even after lifting the tissue to make sure they weren't hiding underneath).

He's now at the point where he recognizes toys and recognizes that he wants them. Being inside this touristy shop with their American-Indian-inspired knick knacks, made me recall the days when we'd go on family vacations when I was younger. When you're on vacation, every toy at the touristy stands looks so much cooler than it actually is. We ended up buying Raisin this little blue tractor. I hope that when he plays with it he remembers our stop at the logging camp to feed the goats and llamas.

driving under the influence (of balls)

...hi

I still have to sort through all the photos before I can post about our (mostly) delightful long weekend up north. Until then, I leave you with this.

it's a bird, it's a plane -- it's a football

For some reason, we get a lot of blimps in these parts. It just seems like lately you can't swing a dead cat without hitting one.

A couple months ago, there was this one blimp that was flying over downtown practically every day. I began to get sort of annoyed by it. I mean, when did blimps become so ubiquitous? Aren't they supposed to be some kind of novelty -- kind of a special sighting? Apparently not these days.

So today when we were at the park, what did we see? A blimp, of course. And it was circling precisely over our heads as if I was the sole target of its blimptastic Met Life message. It was probably the closest I've ever been to a blimp in flight. But when I pointed it out to little e, he seemed unimpressed. "It's a blimp -- a blimp!" I said. But he'd only turn his head the other way. So then I told him, "Look, a big football in the sky!" Ohh, you can bet he was paying attention then. But try as he did, he just couldn't reach the football.

best. things. ever. volume 4

• The way you say "O-tay" like Buckwheat from the Little Rascals.
• How when you mention cookies, we say, "Cookies?!?" and you reply "O-tay!" like it was our idea.
• On that same note, how you can have a completely agreeable conversation with yourself, "Ball?...Yesss...O-tay!"
• The somewhat peculiar zone you get into when you kick a ball around.
• How, at every meal, you add something from your tray to Norman's bowl and insist that he needs a cookie too.
• How you sing "Twinkle, Twinkle" as "Weeno, Weeno..." but pronounce the "up above..." part flawlessly.
• How the smell of your breath is changing to sweet baby breath to stinky kid breath.
• How you gleefully say "Hi!" at the top of your lungs to anyone we see on our walks -- despite how grumpy they look.
• How you randomly kiss trees and insist on throwing away each and every piece of garbage you find in the park.
• How you say, "Bye bye" to the babysitter the nanosecond I walk through the door.
• When you say, "Lap!"
• When we sing, "Twinkle, Twinkle little star" to you and you request more even before we've finished.
• How, no matter how hard I try, I can't stop touching your hair.

is it just me

or is the loudest talker always the talkiest talker?

is it just me?

or does every mother find herself, more often than not, serving as a human basketball hoop while she's going to the bathroom?

ladybug ball: the triumphant return

It was the first ball we ever purchased for little e so of course it had sentimental value. But it grew to be a favorite -- the ball of choice in the stroller, the playdate companion. Ladybug ball was special. It was just big enough. Functional as a ball, but not too bouncy to get away. Besides, what's not to like about a ball that looks like a ladybug?

But then LBB was gone. Sure, we lose balls all the time, but somehow they always manage to find us. Not this time. No, LBB had been missing quite a while. I sent out emails to our usual playdate friends, "Has anyone seen ladybug ball?" Sadly, no one had. But then it was revealed that Jenny and Sy were missing their ladybug ball too. Could there be some sort of ladybug ball theif roaming the streets? I shudder to think about it.

We thought it was gone forever. But our beloved ladybug ball has returned home. Okay, turns out, he never left. He was hiding inside papa's tool bucket. How did he get there? Here's a hint: As soon as LBB was returned to his rightful owner, rightful owner, with a big smile on his face, grabbed ladybug ball, threw him into the big orange tool bucket and said, "BAH-DEES!"*

* Translation: basket

potty mouth

Guess who got a new potty!

The past week or so, little e has been telling us at the precise moment when he's gone pee pee or poopies. He's also been showing more interest in watching us go to the bathroom. Now I know 19 months may be a little early to start potty training. But from what I've read/heard, kids start to show an interest when they're ready. And of course, I was ready to jump all over it.

I had visions of doing away with the diapers -- think of the land fill we're saving the earth! No more shlepping the gianormous box of Luvs to and fro! Oh, I was excited. So the other day, after little e announced he had just gone pee pee, I said, "Do you wanna go to the store and get a little potty -- so then you can go pee pee in the potty?" To which he replied with not a second of hesitation, "YESSSSSSSS!!!!!" Insert more visions of potty training glory here.

So we go to Target and he is so excited to pick out his new potty. All the way there he says, "Pee pee, potty." He even proudly announced it to the cashier as she rang it up. We bring it home and as I assemble it he does that running-in-place dance that Homer Simpson does when he's excited (Karen, you know that one, don't you??). "Mama, pee pee potty," he says.

So I get it assembled. We put it in the bathroom. I take off his diaper and I would be lying if I said I didn't at least half expect him to jump and the potty and go pee pee. Alas, that didn't happen. Here's what did happen. He was a little hesitant to sit on it. I could tell he really wanted to, but he was scared. I didn't want to push it. I was just happy he was taking an interest in it. He'd sit on the edge, but as I lifted him to sit him further back, he'd get very nervous. It was that hole that threw him off. This went on for a while and still I didn't push it, I just let him get familiar with it. And familiar he became.

I'd like to end this story by saying that he eventually went pee pee in the potty, but he didn't. Yeah, he's a big talker what with his pee pee in the potty. In fact, since I bought the potty, he has not once even announced that he's gone pee pee or poopies. He still does seem a little interested in the fact that he now has his very own potty, but he's not quite sure what to do with it.

At least the purchase hasn't been all for naught.

come january i will be bald

We've spent a lot of time outside this summer. A LOT of time. We've gone to the park pretty much every day. And now that it's been a little rainy and yucky the past few days, we haven't been outside as much. Once winter rolls around, how are we going to spend most of the time "ya" (inside) as opposed to "ya" (outside)"? Now that Raisin's seen gay Par-eeh, there's going to be no keeping him down on the farm. I'm not sure what we're going to do, but I'm sure it's going to involve some pulling out of the hair.

Maybe we can play some nice quiet games of chess. Or maybe I can buy one of those gerbil wheels -- do they make those in toddler size?

like every mother, i think my child is a genius

and here are the reasons why:

• His vocabulary alone is impressive. At his 18-month checkup they asked if he knew at least three words. Um, chya?!? He knows like eight bazillion. I couldn't even begin to list them all.
•• He is combining words into almost sentences. One of my favorites: "Too big. Cut." (Stay tuned for a future post about how maybe not like every mother, I think my child has textbook OCD.)
• He has announced on more than one occasion, both in the car and while walking, that we were close to home. And he was right.
• He has a wicked sense of humor. Take this for example.
Mama: "What do you want for breakfast?"
Little e: "Eat mama." (followed by laughter and attempts to sink teeth into mama's arm.)
Other variations includ: Eat papa. Eat Norman. Eat sky...
Yeah, see what I mean? The kid is funny.
• He already has a grasp of adjectives and their meanings: in, out, up, down, big, small, messy, high, wet...
• He can identify the following colors: yellow, blue, red, green, purple
• He can, quite accurately, fill in the blank with numbers as we count up to ten or fifteen depending on his mood.
• He pronounces words correctly in the possessive form: Papa's, Mama's, etc.
• And when he's talking in plural, he usually adds the "s" on at the end.
• There are so many more things that blow my mind every day. But of course, I can't remember them all because unlike my son, I do not have a mind like a steel trap.

For any of my family who might be reading this, I'm not trying to be a big fat bragger because hell, probably all my nieces and nephews were doing this too and I just didn't pay much attention because it wasn't my child. I just wanted to get it all down before I forgot -- I know I've already forgotten a lot.

Maybe he'll get to be two and not learn anything more and be forever stuck at this level -- that would show me! I really wouldn't want him to be a super-genius anyway. That would suck -- having a kid who's smarter than you, pointing out all your bad grammar and shit. I can hear the conversation now, "Why hello, mother, say, can we discuss how ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny?" Um, yeah, go ask your father...

But I mean c'mon, just look at the mad-scientist hair.

note to self

Do not let boy hold pen while sitting on lap to watch downloaded video footage of himself.

great moments in balls

Today as we made our way home kicking the ball through the park, we stopped to watch some soccer fellas practicing their drills. Little e sat in my lap and we watched for a longer than you'd expect would hold a 19-month old child's attention. He was their cheering squad belting out loud Ohhhhhhhhhs and Doasssses (for close) at missed goals and GOAL!! when they made it in. I can support his enthusiasm for sports, but I sincerely hope he doesn't turn into one of those loud, foam-finger-waving, beer-tossing, face-painting, bare-belly-in-winter fans.

In other soccer-related new, little e has also taken to doing cone drills in the park after seeing kids do them on a Blue's Clues soccer episode.

bliss

Can you say one and a half hour hot stone massage? I have a new hero and thy name is Burnell.

Thank you dear husband and son for a most awesome Mother's Day gift.

I can no longer type as I'm a pile of mush.

two cute things

Last night I was stroking little e's pudgy leg while reading him a story before bed. He's not one for the cuddles, or the touching for that matter. So he picked up my hand and sort of pushed it away with a "eughghghhh..." I know how to take a hint. so I said, "Okay, mama won't touch you" and I pulled my hand away. Then, you know what he did? He took my hand in his, put it on his pudgy little leg and said, "Mama, touch." I could've just died right there.

Then, this morning, Ed had this to report. He had taken Norman and little e to the park. While throwing the ball for Norman, he kept an eye on little e as he did his usual sprint down the soccer field toward the goal. After fetching the ball, Norman stopped midway, dropped the ball, and went in to full on sniffing/searching panic mode in search of little e who was no longer where he had last seen him. Perhaps you can't appreciate the significance of this. Norman DROPPED the ball in search of the boy who is forever tormenting him. I know! I think I need a tissue now.

fair game

One of my favorite things in the world to do is go to a county fair. I love it all -- the smell of the barns, my annual corn dog (always from the most reputable looking corn-dog dealer), the precarious nature of the carnival rides, the games... And it turns out our little man is a fan of the county fair too.

The only downside to this year's fair was that they didn't have the water-squirting game where Ed and I have been known to kick water-squirting-butt and bag the coveted plush stuffed animal prize. But as the county fair robinhoods, we've made it our mission in the past to give it to some poor child who we mopped up in the spirit of competition. The kid who actually WANTED the stuffed animal -- yeah, like they were really going to win it with the likes of us behind the water pistols blowing up those clown noses. So there was no water squirting game for us to win. But it's a good thing, because now that we have a child of our own, it would've been a little harder to give it away. The funny thing was that a man came up to us and gave HIS little stuffed to little e. Little e was unimpressed. "This aint no ball, mister" I think I heard him say.

As soon as we entered the fairgrounds, the boy decided he really needed a balloon. Since we refused to give him one with the republican elephant -- or right-wing agenda (it seems they favor the balloon medium) -- on it, we had to stalk several people carrying plain balloons and ask them where they got them. We eventually found them clear across the fairgrounds where we came in. I've never seen a balloon make a boy so happy. See?


There was a lot of whoah-whoah-whoahing with steering wheels of old tractors.


Some feeding of the "doats." At one point we were informed that his finger was "STUHHK" (in the doat's mouth).


And, of course, the first pony ride. Why, yes, that is a look of terror. It seems he hasn't inherited his mama's love for horses.

mr. trump, is that you?

By popular demand (of Mark & Amy), here is some footage of our little man enthusiastically saving up for college. By the way, last time we cashed in that jar of coins (aka: the college fund) it was more than $300.

If there's anything you want to perform like a trained monkey, the Hernan-dos request line is open.

football vs. soccer

It was another trip to the park today with another round of: Run. Throw. Pickup. Run. Throw. Pickup. I started to feel like that guy in the Volkswagon ad who has the kids running up and down hills to wear them out.

Here's the boy's solution for the whole soccer vs. football name discrepency -- combine the two! The clip's a little long, but the "GOAL!" at the end makes it well worth the wait. What? It doesn't? Sorry. He's still working on his endzone touchdown dance. One of these days, I'll sit down with iMovie and learn how to edit my clips. Really, I will.


And in case you didn't believe me about the tree kissing, there's this one. And I swear, it was totally unstaged. I was just looking to get footage from our walk home.

ball du jour

tree kisser

This morning little e and I walked to the park. On the way he stopped to kiss three trees. When we got to the park, he picked up a random discarded bottle top and quickly charged toward the garbage can to throw it away. He's going to make a good little environmentalist.

His big thing now is kicking a ball back and forth across the soccer field into the goals. Sounds easy but let's see you try it when your legs are about an arm's length. And these aren't little mamby-pamby kiddy soccer fields, they're big-people soccer fields with big-people goals.

After that we headed over to the playground where we played on pretty much every piece of equipment it had to offer. With lots and lots of time spent on the slide in particular. Just as we were getting ready to leave, we met a little German boy named Leopold and his mom. (Note: Leaving the park is easier done when the boy rides in his stroller -- getting him to stop all the fun to walk home is another soccer ball of wax.) E didn't know what to think of this Leopold kid -- or "ol' ball stealer" as we like to call him -- but after a few thousand times down the slide and the ball exchanging hands, they were fast friends.

Fast forward to more than TWO HOURS LATER.

Only one tree got a kiss on our way home.

traveling

Don't laugh. I heard Michael Jordan got started with moves like these. And the heavy breathing? It helps get him into the zone.

girls rule, boys drool

I am just now coming out of my relaxation coma from a glorious girls' weekend in Wisconsin.

I spent three, count 'em three, nights with my pal Amy at her parents' luxurious house on a lake. Yes, that's right, HOUSE on a LAKE where I slept in a gianormous king-sized bed with about 18 fluffy pillows and had my own private bathroom. What more do you need? I'll tell ya. To make your girly-girl weekend complete, you also need some trashy tabloid magazines, some pick-a-mix Brachs candies, some Oreos, some teeny-tiny minty balls of ice cream, a manicure, a pedicure, a few good chick flicks, three solid nights of sleep and lots of giggling. Then if you're extra lucky, your awesome pal might chauffeur you around the lake in a pontoon boat while you lie back and let the waves lull you into a state of bliss.

Important things I decided after this weekend:
1. I miss my boys when I'm away from them.
2. Rocky Rococo's pizza is not quite as delicious as I remember.
3. Ditto for Lollies.
4. I could get used to living in a house on a lake.
5. Keira Knightly and Kate Bosworth could really use a sandwich.

roly-poly

Raisin usually poops the consistency of baby food. I thought this was a bit odd at his age but according to his doctor, it's fine. It concerned me a little because, not that he's close to being ready to potty train, but when toddlers are ready to start using the little potty, you're supposed to be able to just dump their poop from the little potty into the toilet. I figure it will be more like scraping it out with a rubber spatula.

With that in mind, I kid you not, these words came out of Ed's mouth at about 6 a.m. this morning while changing Raisin's diaper on our bed.


"Ooh, it's a roly-poly poopie -- the kind that mama likes."

(HOLDING DIAPER OUT) "Look mama, this is the kind you could just dump in the toilet."

(THEN THIS) "Uh oh, where'd it go?..."

I'm pleased to report, it was found.

a sign of the times

Now that Raisin is talking more and more, he's using his sign language less and less. As much as I love to hear him talk and am flabbergasted by how quickly he picks things up, I'm a little sad to see his signs go -- those pudgy little fingers moving in funny, expressive ways to tell us something that his voice can't.

Every once in a while I'll quiz him just to see if he still remembers signs for certain things. He does. And it's so interesting to me how there's usually only a slight overlap of signs and verbal once he's learned to say something. Even though he can now say the word "more", occasionally he still does the sign when he's very adament about wanting more or when he's very sleepy. My favorite time is at night when I sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" to him. He usually gives me the sign for more right when I get to the part that says, "Like a Diamond in the Sky," because he knows I'm close to the end and it's time for me to put him into his crib. Apparently he's too sleepy to say it -- or maybe it's the Nuk in his mouth.

So because I'm feeling all weepy and nostalgic about his loss of sign language, I bring you "Milk." This was taken in April on the beach in Florida. He had just started to use the word "milk" about a week before but here is the overlap with sign. I really miss that little cow-udder squeeze. Sniff.

gag him with a spoon

This weekend, while eating some yogurt, little e thought it was big funny to put the spoon way back inside his mouth to the point that it would set off his gag reflexes. We did our best to ignore him since any attention paid to our little entertainer would surely guarantee an encore performance. Despite our attempts, he continued to do it and laughed after each gag.

That is, until he hurled all down the front of chest.

um...i think i say "um" too much

Little e has started to preface things he's about to say with "Um." He also uses it a lot when looking for something. I blame the babysitter.

murphy's law of running errands with a toddler

• At the post office, only after you've weighed your package, entered the destination zip code, replied no, you don't want any more services, and slid your card through, all using one hand with a boy who loves buttons in the other, the self-service postage machine will not accept your card and you will be forced to stand in line along with the obviously smarter people who bypassed the self-service machine.
• You will drop your keys, not one, not two, but three times while carrying your child out to the car.
• Only after you've heave-hoed him into the seat will you realize you got the shopping cart with the defective child safety belt.
• Then, only then, after you change carts and start to make your way down the grocery aisle, will you realize, lucky you, you also got the shopping cart with the bad wheel alignment that goes wobble, wobble wobble and pulls you to the left while everyone else points and stares.
• Continuing your effort to avoid interacting with the general public, you will make your way into the self-checkout aisle, ring up all your purchases while your child screams for cookies and curse all self-service machinery as it displays the message "please wait for assistance."

"mauuffff"

I usually give little e a half hour cool-down period before his afternoon nap. I've gotten to be quite anal about the whole thing in that I start to get the shakes if I'm even slightly off schedule. Our days just go so much obviously better if we're on.

Lunch usually happens at 11:30. Then 12:00-12:15 it's some sort of random play (usually basketball outside -- AGAIN). Then at precisely 12:15 I fire up the Baby Einstein to help him settle down. But before I do, I usually tell him what's going to happen next. (Like his mama, he likes to be mentally prepared.)

So a couple of days ago, we were playing a little one-on-one and I told him it was time to go inside to watch Einstein. His response? "Mauufff". To which I said, "Say what?" He repeated, "Mauuuffff". I said "Mauuufff?" He laughed. Silly mama she is dumb. He mustered up as much annunciation as he could and said in a very loud voice similar to an American tourist speaking English to a local in a foreign country, "Mauuffff." I still had know idea what he was talking about.

So we go inside and I start to insert the Einstein DVD. The trademark caterpillar appears and he grows more and more agitated. "Nooooooooooo." "No?? But you LOVE Einstein!" Clearly disgusted by my ignorance, he stomps over to the drawer where we keep our DVDs and pulls out a collection of old Mickey Mouse cartoon shorts. So I pop it in and he sits back and begins to laugh at the violent and un-PC antics of old-time Mickey Mouse -- er, MAUUFFFF.

I've never shown him this DVD. The husband claims he's never shown it to him. And according to the babysitter, months ago she had shown about two minutes of it to him, but he wasn't interested. The only time he's seen it has been the couple of times his cousins watched it when the were over. Apparently that was enough.

Just when I thought he had Mickey-Mouse fever, a few days after that, he requested "Lady and the Tramp". He only watched the first 10 minutes of it but requested it again for today's nap-time feature. I'm not convinced he's over Baby Einstein, but I must admit, I'm happy to have a little break from it. Next thing you know, he'll be attending the Sundance Film Festival what with his new sophisticated taste in DVD entertainment,

Tune in next week when he selects "The Fight Club" from the DVD drawer.

long-distance dedication

This one goes out to Mark and Amy. Don't miss his hilarious debut on next season's "Last Comic Standing."

no more monkeys jumping on the bed

Last night we took my baby to the emergency room.

He fell off our bed and landed, what sounded to be, skull-first on the hardwood floor. Luckily, he's a quarter German and he has a thick skull otherwise maybe we wouldn't be so lucky.

He's at a stage when he wants to flirt with danger on the bed. He wants to get close enough to the steel headboard that he'll fall through the gap it makes with the mattress. He wants to run until he loses his footing in the bedding. He wants to jump. Only this time he was doing none of those things. He wasn't even standing. I don't know what he was doing but he managed to fall off in the approximately three seconds it took me to reach to the floor on the other side of the bed and get his milk for the last phase of his bedtime ritual. After hearing the worst sound ever, I was scared to death to turn around and see that he was no longer on the bed. I was hoping something had fallen in the other room. But he wasn't on the bed and it was with great relief that I soon heard the crying.

He didn't cry as long as I expected him too for the amount of pain I imagined he felt. I kept him up and busy while Ed called the nurse line to see what we should do. At that point he seemed fine but we didn't think we should let him go to sleep so soon after suffering a head injury. The nurse recommended we bring him to the emergency room just to be safe. So we did.

Every time I explained the story to someone at the ER, I imagined them tsk-tsking in their heads, thinking I was an abusive mother covering up some god-forsaken child abuse. I began to even second guess my own story, wondering if that really was how it happened. Was I really just reaching for milk? It all seems like a blur now. The good news is that he checked out just fine and we brought him home with just a Fred-Flinstone-like goose egg on his head (minus the circling birds) and instructions to watch him in the next 48 hours.

There's nothing like your baby falling off the bed when you're right there to prevent it to make you feel like a horrible mom. And that sound -- when his head came crashing to the floor -- it will forever be tattooed on my brain. Of course now that it's happened, if he so much as looks at something potentially dangerous, I steer him the other way. Which begs the question: Where is the line between being an over-protective parent who follows her child around with a safety net and letting him experience the simple joys of being a child like jumping on a bed, climbing, etc. without risking a cracked skull?

I sure as hell don't know.

Update: We just got home from a walk. As we passed through the park, three little boys were doing backflips off the picnic table. This motherhood thing is going to give me a nervous breakdown.

two broken big wheels away from white trash

At the time of this writing there are 13 balls in our backyard. (Admitting that there is a problem is the first step.)

i sincerely hope this is no indication of his future attentiveness on the road

don't forget to tip your waitress

I've got a joke for you. Hold on to your hats, it's big funny.

Knock-knock.
Who's there?
Ball.
Ball who?
Ball ball!!!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
It's Raisin's first official knock-knock joke!

Sadly, that's about as funny as most knock-knock jokes get.

road trip

Raisin and I made the nearly four-hour drive to meet the rest of my family on a lake up north. It was a cousin extravaganza and little e had a smile plastered across his face the whole time.

Grandma S. bought him a shiny new blue ball that we feared had been blown down the beach and lost forever. We come to find out cousin Izzy had snatched it and had been hiding it in her room. Sneaky, sneaky little girl.

One of the biggest highlights for the little man was captaining the boat on Grandpa S's lap -- complete with horn honking and a few "whoa, whoa, whoas" for good measure. And I'm pleased to report that no ducks went hungry.

belated 4th of july thoughts

Hot weather + 2 nervous dogs + hot dog breath = good times

I'm just grateful that there's only one holiday a year when it's completely acceptable for your neighbor to light explosives off right outside your window.

darwin awards finalist

Let's say for a minute you were cutting up some chicken for your boy to eat. But let's just say the knife was upside-down. Then imagine, if you will, you're pressing on the back of the blade for leverage. Only it's not the back of the blade, it's the blade blade. Yeah, that doesn't feel so good. Especially when you say, later try putting your contact in with SALINE SOLUTION, using that same finger -- you know, the one with the inch-long gash down it?!?!?

the big (boy) apple

I gave Raisin an apple to hold onto while we did our grocery shopping the other day. As we made our way through the store, one of the employees said, "You know, if you weigh that and print out the sticker, you can let him eat it while you're shopping." To which I replied, "Oh thanks, but he can't eat a whole apple like this yet. I have to cut it up for him."

As we pay for the groceries, he looks very distraught as the cashier places his apple/ball in the bag. And soon he starts to vocalize his uneasiness about the whole thing. I explain to the cashier that he was just concerned about his ball/apple. So she fished it out of the bag and handed it to him.

He's ready for a snack when we get home so I think, why not some apple (he's still holding on to it)? I explain how we're going to have a tasty apple treat and begin to cut it. The look he gave me was similar to the look he would've given me if I began to cut into his left arm. "No! No! No!' He cried. So I hand him the apple minus one chunk. He looks at it lovingly, lifts it to his mouth and takes a bite right out of it. Just like a big apple-eating boy. He looked like he had been doing it for years.

Snacktime was over but apparently apple-time wasn't and he proceeded to walk around the house taking a nibble here, a nibble there. When we went out front to do some weeding, he carried his dear friend apple with him. It began to turn brown and he dropped it a few times on the ground. Still, he continued to gnaw away at its flesh. At one point, he was sitting on the porch steps, apple-to-mouth and he looked like such a kid. My boy's growing up. Oh, how I wish I had a picture of that.

Instead I have just this.

sidewalk chalk: it's not just for sidewalks anymore

This past weekend we bought Raisin a large bucket of sidewalk chalk. We figured it would provide him with hours upon hours of good wholesome artistic fun. We were right. He is an arteest and the world is his canvas. THE WORLD.

The only bad part about having a wall of our kitchen done in blackboard paint is trying to explain to a 17-month old boy why he can't draw on every wall of the house. "No sweetie, Mama likes the wood frame to be wood color -- not fuchsia." The backyard walks are pretty much covered with artistic renderings of balls, Target, hearts, numbers, etc. And now mini-Picasso has moved on to bigger and better things. Hardwood floors. Garbage cans. My pants. The dog. Nothing's safe from his merciless sidewalk chalk tags.

I think we'll hold off on the finger paints.

the world needs more filthy rich people like warren buffet

Wow. He might be my new idol. He's inspired me to give away 85% of my fortune too. I'll be cutting a check right away. Pay to the order of: Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. Amount: $17.

next on COPS: caught in the act

Watch closely. When you see Norman sit so poised and innocent, you'd never guess that he was up to no good. Also note how the boy smartly conserves his energy by using his dog-feeding hand to feed himself.


Then, later that same day.


Of course they both denied it. And the weed wasn't theirs either.

and it was at this precise moment that he'd had enough of the zoo and all its caged exotic creatures

Yes, even this one.


Lucky for us, our kid also has about a one-hour tolerance for milling around with the general public.

a conversation with a nay sayer

"Hey little man, wanna go have some juice and a snack?"

"No..."

"You don't want a snack?"

"No..."

"Or juice?"

"No..."

"Should we go home and see Norman?"

"No..."

"Should we go home and play basketball?"

"No..."

"I think you mean yes."

"Essssss."

it's official, we have the plague

Today we all woke up in our bed wheezing, coughing and feeling altogether miserable. That's when some very important decisions were made:
• We decided we definitely had the Avian flu or some other deadly disease.
• The husband decided he wanted to be carried around in the bed like Frida Kahlo.
• We decided that maybe, just maybe, there were about four inches of our midsection (from lower chest to upper abdomen) that didn't feel quite so bad.
• We decided that the dog didn't care that we were all sick and that he still wanted his two walks thankyouverymuch.
• And little e decided that even though he couldn't breathe with a pacifier in his mouth and he's coughing up a lung, that he, was in fact, in need of a ball STAT.

It's too bad. I had some big ideas of productivity happening today -- there would be swim class, laundry and Level 3 grocery shopping. Then during nap time there were pilates to be done and calls to be made.

Instead I took a nap.

mister negativity

We had visitors Wednesday through Sunday. Whenever we're with people who don't have kids, I hope that Raisin behaves himself so that he doesn't become the kid that equals another dose of birth control every time you see him. Except for a string a sleepless nights, he pretty much turned on the charm. And I suspect our guests flew back to Seattle wanting to get them one of those. Er, maybe not.

We started our swim class this morning. As the teacher was telling us the most important thing to remember, "Don't let your kids in the water until you say so," Raisin was toe-deep in the zero-depth pool. I'm glad he's still excited about the water. After we got in the pool the teacher passed out an assortment of water toys. Guess what he got. A BALL. Actually it looked more like one of those sponge clown noses.

In other exciting news. His "owwwww" that he used for the word "no" has now quite clearly evolved into the word "no." Let the defiance begin. It's pretty funny though. When he says it, it's not like an adament no, it's more like "Mmmm-I-don't-think-so- not-today-mama" no.

My head feels like it's the size of a watermelon. Failure to lather the boy in Purel after a trip to the new library has resulted in snotty-coughy-achy colds for all of us. Hooray! On top of a major teething episode, I expect that we'll be getting some decent sleep in oh, around 2025. Stupid library.

Good night.

death of an idea

Day 1 (around conference room table)
Client 1: "Ooh, what a great idea."
Client 2: "It's really fresh."
Client 3: "I love it."
Client 4: "It's eye catching and fun."
Client 5: "Yes, yes, yes...it's really great."
Client 6: "This is IT."
Client 7: "They'll love it."


Day 2
Client 1: "It just needs a little fine-tuning."

Later, that same day...
Client 1: "We've spent some time thinking about how we can work with this idea without marginalizing our topic. Here's where we landed: (INSERT COMPLETELY NEW IDEA HERE)."

cat's in the cradle

Papa's out of town again. This one goes out to him.

If you turn up the volume and listen very carefully, you'll sense the unbridled enthusiasm of a kid who really loves to swing.

helicopters

Turns out, there is good that can come from 20 quatrillion helicopters in your backyard.

The gathering.


The wind up.


The release.


The consequence.