happy anniversary to us

Ten years ago today we moved to Minneapolis. I know this because ten years ago also today Lady Di was killed. We learned this when our U-Haul (here on named U-Suck) broke down at a gas station and Ed's friend Dingo who was helping us move, ran over to report this sad news.

So now we've been here 10 years. Wow. It only feels like three. Crap, we're old.

So c'mon Minneapolis, TEN FRIGGIN YEARS! What is that, like aluminum or diamonds or something? Pay up.

not afraid to say it first

broadcasting live over the baby monitor

"PBS kids dot org...PBS kids dot org...PBS kids dot org.."

Dare I say the boy might be watching a little too much Calliou?

HOTY

Ladies and gentlemen, we're pleased to announce this year's Husband of the Year award recipient. Drum roll please. (Dancing girls enter stage right).

Ed Hernandez!!

Can you say, "surprise birthday weekend IN CHICAGO?" Yes, the man tricked me. He done tricked me real good. After telling me his parents were coming for the weekend, he finally revealed that instead we were going to Chicago. As much as I love the in-laws and all, that option appealed to me slightly more.

And just when I thought I had been the recipient of the mother of all surprises, he got my whole family (except for my brother who apparently doesn't love me) to meet at Buca for a heart-attack-inducing surprise birthday dinner for me. "Why are we going to Buca when we're in this city chock-full of phenomenal restaurants?" I thought to myself. Then WHAMO! there's the entire Schulz family who made the drive from Racine and Milwaukee to partake in the celebration. Even my big nephews Matt and Sean who are usually way too cool for the likes of Aunt Amy. And this was all organized by none other than my husband, he-who-does-not-celebrate-birthdays.

But wait, that's not all, my friend. Lest you think there was no cake, there was. Oh, there was. In fact, he had ordered my favorite Danish Layer Cake from the O&H Bakery in Racine that my mom generously agreed to pick up and transport to the Windy City. Turns out relentless whining over cakeless birthdays does pay!

The Chicago Weekend Highlights:
• The surprise itself was pretty darn awesome.
• All the talk leading up to the arrival in Chicago -- how we were going to be on the Jerry Springer show because we had "something to tell each other" culiminating with Ed saying he had to remember to pack his diapers and his giant pacifier.
• Eating Thai food with Elian and witnessing his inner conflict with peanut satay. Mmmm, it's so sweet and delicious. No, wait, it's hot! Waa -- need water! (takes another bite) But wait, it's so sweet and delicious. Don't. Like. It. Hot, hot, hot! WATER! (takes another bite). Mmmmmmm, I LIKE IT!
• The architectural tour down the Chicago River after Elian one-by-one asked if each person standing in line loved him.
• Splashing in the fountain at Millenium Park and watching Papa bat the beach ball to the sky by the Frank Gehry amphitheater.
• Being admittedly a little disappointed to be dining at Buca, only to find nearly my entire family waiting at the table.
• Watching my fellow sweet tooth son, remove no fewer than three frosting flowers from the top of my birthday cake and pop them in his mouth.
• Swimming in the hotel pool way past the boy's bed time.
• Hearing Elian mention show and tell again and again only to realize more than halfway through our trip that he was referring to the hotel.

And the lowlights:
• Being held up at the airport on our way out because apparently someone on the "no fly" list has a name very similar to one of ours. Great.
• Forgetting our camera when we went to Millenium Park where photo ops abounded (not to mention, not having it later when we met up with my family for part two of the surprise).
• That Ed didn't take more pictures.

hi, i'm a mac

One of the boy's fondest memories has to be a trip to the Apple Store with Papa. Although I'm not sure how much of his enjoyment came from the actual Apple Store and how much came from the coin-operated vehicles in the food court -- or maybe it was the chocolate chip cookie they shared.

Anyhow, since the weather's been kind of yucky lately, we haven't gone outside much. And unfortunately for one little boy, some people can only take so much of the construction and deconstruction of marble things, towers, railroad tracks, what have you, in a day. So yesterday, I had an idea. "Hey buddy, wanna go to the Apple Store? -- Buddy? Buddy?" (He passed out from excitement.)

So we load up on quarters -- you know, the quarters you need for the coin-operated "Apple Store." I watch as he takes great pleasure and choosing only the biggest coins from his college fund (priorities, you know?). He takes a turn riding almost every vehicle while I notice that even though the vehicle changes, the simulated ride doesn't; it's pretty much the same motion whether it's a helicoptor, Mickey Mouse car, or Scoop from Bob the Builder. But what do you expect for 75 cents? Um, I kind of expect more, actually.

Next, we ride up and down the escalators. Then we do ourselves a little window shopping that goes a little something like this: "Do you like that, Mama?" "Oh, yes." "Do you like that Mama?" "Yes, I do --That's pretty!" "Do you like that Mama?" "Ohh, yes, the scent of cologne wafting from Abercrombie and Fitch, very nice."

Then, we wrap up our trip to the mall with a stop at the toddler play area. Last time we tried that, I think it was more stress than fun for the little man. All the other kids seemed so big around him at the time. But this time it was a whole different story. He was giggling, running, climbing and sweating right alongside the other munchkins. After about 1/2 hour, he was ready to go.

We never made it to the Apple Store. There was just too much other mall fun to be had. And that's probably the last time you'll ever hear those words come out of my mouth (or see them come off my fingers).

what herding cats must feel like

Today I attempted to teach my 2 1/2 year-old the game of Slap Jack.

Oh, and we also played badmitton indoors.

Need I say more?

quote of the day

After telling Papa he looked beautiful today, the little man said to me in the car:

"Mama, what's that in your hair?"

"Oh, it's just a little elastic thing to make a pony tail."

"It's cute!"

"Well, thank you."

"It's really nice, Mama."

(Keep in mind, this is only the same elastic thing that I wear in my hair almost EVERYSINGLEDAY. I think he might be up to something.)

and by the way...

I also just received a Hanna Andersson catalog in the mail. I had always dreamed of dressing in matchie-match fashion with my family (more specifically, my son). And I'm pleased to announce that now I CAN!

And don't think that I won't.

back to basics toys®, have you no mercy?

His wounds were just beginning to heal from the Great Marble Run Disappointment of 2007, when we get our new Back to Basics Toys catalog today.

We begin to page through it. Lahdee dah, dumdee dum. Then it was as if the brakes squealed and he turned back the page. Wait just one moment, what do we have here? It's MARBLE MANIA EXTREME!!! Complete with automatic lifter. There was a little crying when he realized the photo wasn't going to instantaneously materialize into the real thing. I tried to cheer him up by giving his elevator-less marble thing the major hard sell. "Buddy, we can build it up really high!...We can put a bunch of roundy-roundy things in it!"

He sat down to play with his very own marble thing. And as he sniffed back his tears, he said in the most pathetic sad voice, "Can we pretend it has an elevator?"

And because you can never hear enough about balls or marbles in this blog, here is the boy's new favorite video. How's this for a blast from the past?

quote of the day

(BACKGROUND: Recently I was asked what a duck's mouth was called. I said "A bill." Since then, I've been asked that question many times. The boy seems intrigued by the difference between a bird mouth, a beak, and a duck's mouth, a bill. Another sidenote: When he asks us what a body part is called, we don't lie.)

Now you're up to speed. So today we're reading a book before his nap.

ELIAN: (Pointing to a duck's bill): "Mama, what's this?"

MAMA: "What do you think it is?"

ELIAN: "A scrotum."

the overzealous sharer

Is there such thing as sharing too much? I like to think not. Rather maybe it's THE WAY something's shared that can seem off-putting.

Yesterday, after the little man had big-boy slept his way to the orange spot on his chart, I took him to Choo Choo Bobs. This is a haven full of little train-loving little boys who swarm around six train tables in the back like little ants. The boy LOVES Choo Choo Bobs. And he declared this love loudly and proudly several times while he was playing with the trains.

We always stress the importance of sharing. And after witnessing many of his encounters with other children, I'm beginning to think maybe we stress it a little too much. More than a few times, I saw him thrust a train car into a unsuspecting child's face and ask, "Do you wanna SHARE?!?! Do you wanna play with THIS!?!?!?" Clearly four out of five of them didn't because they looked at him as if he had just dangled a piece of poop in their face and walked away.

But it takes more than that kind of rejection to deter his sharing self. He just moves on, holding the Percy engine two inches from the next child's face, cocks his head to one side, looks them straight in the eye and says, "Do you wanna SHARE?!?!?" Even after he's been playing with the same train for a good five minutes, he'll point to the train and ask the child next to him, "Can I play with this?!?!?" Of course, to another child, that's just an invitation to grab that train right out of my little boy's hands. And when that happens there's never an argument, never a tear. He just goes on his merry way looking for a new train. At one point, his invitation to share was met with a sharp, "NO!" He looked at me and said, "Mama, he said 'No!'" and we both laughed. Oh, poor silly child who doesn't like to share. Then he declared, "Mama, I'm teaching the other kids to share!" (I'm sure the other moms loved that one).

I'd like to think we are entirely responsible for his "willingness" to share. But I have a feeling it's just part of his nature. The kid has a heart the size of a beachball.

a lunch conversation

He was eating peanut butter and jelly (duh!). I was eating Indian food. Here is what we said:

ELIAN: Can I try some of that Indian food?

MAMA: I don't think you'd like it buddy, it's pretty spicy.

ELIAN: I might like it. Can I try it?

MAMA: Okay, here's a little bite.

ELIAN: (The second it hits his mouth) Mmmm, I LIKE Indian food.

MAMA: You do? Do you want some more?

ELIAN: Not really.

sleepyhead station

Tonight when I put little e to bed, he gave me the usual stall tactics. Then there were the demands to see me upstairs. Stat. My second time back up there, I handed him his flashlight and told him the usual, "If you can't get to sleep, just play in your crib for a while," figuring that would ease some of the pressure.

After I was back downstairs for a while, I began to hear some strange noises over the monitor. Almost like he was building something. But he was quiet and seemingly content, so I let it go. I figured he was probably just knocking his flashlight on the side of his crib. He finally fell asleep.

Later, when I went upstairs to bed, I stopped in his room to give him a quick check. There by his head lay an impressive railroad track complete with signal and "T" track intersection. It's amazing how far those little tiny arms can stretch when they really want to reach something.

Just play in his crib a while he did. Indeed.

quote of the day

(After riding his tricycle down the sidewalk pretending to be Papa riding his bike to work.)

ELIAN: (Reaching the front porch of the house) "I'm at work now."

MAMA: "Really? What is it that you do at work?"

ELIAN: "I play ball with Dr. Hakim."


That's the kind of job I think I could really get on board with.

dualing guitars

I've heard of people bringing their work to a cafe before. But today two dudes sitting at a table next to me are jamming out on guitars. And they're not even part of the cafe entertainment.

Rock on, dudes. Rock on.

this just in

One faithful Hernan-dos reader found humor in sending me this image.

Let it be known: I am not amused.

the purple devil

Despite some attempts by people who shall be nameless to inflict Barney on my son, he remains unscathed. As far as I know, the only time he has ever seen Barney has been a nanosecond of a dvd preview that was quickly fast-forwarded over and this time. And that was more than a year ago -- and beyond our control.

Maybe it's not so much Barney I have the problem with. After all, sadly he has one of the more tolerable voices when it comes to characters aimed at children. I think it's his followers. Those kids with their creepy lip synching ways, exaggerated moves and plastic smiles. They sort of give me the willies -- like they're in some sort of Barney-induced trance.

So yesterday after Curious George had ended on Tivo, there was a quick moment of live TV before I turned it off. And guess who we see? AGHHHHHH! An intense sense of panick and alarm came over me as my inner voice said, "TURNITOFFTURNITOFFTURNITOFF!!!" And then he says, "What's that, mama?" I tried to play it cool. I knew what would happen if I expressed my displeasure with Barney; the same thing that happened when I expressed my dislike for reading Dick and Jane stories as in now he picks Dick and Jane EVERY TIME. I was all "Oh, this? Um, this is Barney... Wow, look at your marble thing!" But there he sat staring at the TV as Barney and his little Barney-kool-aid drinkers bopped along and sang about exercise. After letting him see about 20 seconds, I turned off the TV and suggested we made lunch. And there was no further word about Barney.

Until today. We were making peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches when he said as clear as day, "Let's watch Barney on TV." I played dumb. "Huh? Whuu? Who is the Barney of which you speak?" And he answered, "He's that guy -- a dinosaur..."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

P.S. In other related news, Papa took him shopping for Bandaids yesterday. He picked out the Backyardigans even though he's never seen the show before. Now he proudly points at his Bandaid and says, "it's the Backyardigans!" I can't wait until he starts seeing regular commercials actually TRYING to sell him something.

quote of the day

"I love my Band Aid!"

(Got his first official skinned knee today complete with blood. After witnessing his utter joy over wearing said Band Aid, I'm sure to be instituting Aunt Shannon's "No Blood, No Band Aid" policy in the future.)

giving his public what they want

I bet you're saying to yourself, I just don't hear enough about the boy's obsession with all things ball.

You're in luck, my friend. Hernan-dos is pleased to introduce the all-new Ball-of-the-Week feature (or BOTW for those of you playing at home).

Once I get my Official Ball Photographer on board with this, you will be treated to a ball (or several if it's a set) along with its nickname, where it came from, etc., once a week or thereabouts depending on the ambition level of myself and the Official Ball Photographer.

I KNOW, you can hardly wait -- can you!?!?!?

freaking his freak

We've been using a chart to motivate the little man to sleep at night. When he gets 10 stickers, he gets an extra special treat -- which means we are basically his parental slaves. Nine times out of ten, it means a trip to the Children's Museum. Aw, who am I kidding? EVERY time, it means a trip to the Children's Museum.

Last night when he went to bed, he was well aware that he was one sticker away from a visit to the sweet, sweet Children's Museum. Knowing that, he did succeed in sleeping like a big boy. But this morning, he didn't declare his victory over the chart as he usually does. He did not ask for a sticker. And he did not shout it to the hills that he in fact gets to go to the Children's Museum because he slept like a big boy. He forgot.

So this morning, we proceeded as usual. We ate breakfast. We got ready. Then we told him that we had to "do a few things". In the car, he kept asking where we were going and more importantly, "Do they have a ball there?" We gave him vague responses and continued driving. As we neared St. Paul and headed for the tunnel, he said, "This is sort of like the Children's Museum." Then, we turned the corner and he pointed at Mickey's Diner where we've eaten after the Children's Museum, "Did we go there after the Children's Museum?" As we got closer, "I see the Children's Museum!" And as we pulled into the parking ramp, "Is this the Children's Museum?"

"Yes, buddy, YES, SURPRISE, this is the Chidren's Museum! You slept like a big boy, you get to go to the Children's Museum today!!!"

What followed was the most hilarious happy-body contortion. I might even describe it as a little convulsion. It was quite awesome. Now he's napping. Undoubtedly dreaming with visions of George Rhoads kinetic scuptures dancing in his head.

ltb fairy

This morning when we went out for a tricycle ride, we found a large collection of Little Tiny Balls on the walk leading up to our front door. Where did they come from? Who put them there? We do not know.

Stay tuned...

the bridge

I didn't want to say anything about what happened in Minneapolis with the bridge. I mean, what can be said that hasn't been said already?

When things like this happen, every possible "what if" tends to run through your head. And the fact that we drove over that bridge twice yesterday doesn't help. Neither does my pre-existing condition of bridge anxiety.

next stop: tour de france

best. things. ever. volume 7

• The way you say yellow: yay-yo

• How you throw your towel off seconds after I dry you off and run streaking and screaming through the upstairs.

• How you sing along when I sing "Hush Little Baby."

• The way you say watch: wash

• Your penchant for imagination. Whether you're pretending to be this guy. Or this girl. Calliou. A spraying skunk. Or Ming-Ming in his cage.

• The way your brother (Norman) walks so slowly, careful not to pull, when he knows you're the one holding the leash.

• The way you point out orange for me EVERY TIME you see it, "Here's some orange for you, Mama." Because you know it's my favorite color.

• The look you get on your face when you're about to say something hilarious and how you sometimes get stuck and stutter performing the mental/verbal gymnastics of your joke.

• Your enthusiasm for playing fetch (or "Puppy Elian") that rivals Norman's -- especially when you have to lay down because you're too tired to run or because you have a sore hip like your brother.

• The way you say smoothie: smoovie.