Tuesday, March 31, 2009

i'm skerred

No, dear friends, not more burglars.  Perhaps even scarier: a 6 month old and a flight departing just after bedtime.  I don't know what I was thinking.  Or yes, I do.  I was thinking how FUN it's going to be to see my familia and relax on the OC beach.  I was also thinking this flight was our only option because it's the only direct flight between my fair city and theirs.  And now that the dear boy is bigger, his things are bigger, his NEEDS are bigger, we've got a whole lotta stuff to lug to California.  Departing one plane to connect to another and hauling myself, dear baby, and all our assorted accouterments all the way across the ginormous Dallas airport just wasn't going to cut it, unless I had a) help or b) access to 'roids.  That's a negatory on both counts, good buddy.  So the 5:55pm flight it was.

And now, I'm scared.  Because I've never dared keep little A out past his bedtime.  It's a bit of a drag checking out of life by 5pm each evening (no walks with the neighbors, no dinner out) but it keeps the wee one happy, so we abide.  And tonight, I'm thinking one of two things are going to happen:

#1: Mister Anderson, lovely sunny chap he is, will chug his bottle during takeoff and drift to dreamland, remaining in his peaceful slumber all across the southwestern US.  My airplane seat neighbors (none of whom will reek of booze or old lady perfume) will beam approvingly at our serenity and tell me how my baby's the most wonderful, sweet, calm baby they've ever had the pleasure of meeting.  We'll land, he'll wake, stretch, and smile at his admirers, and we'll be on our merry way.  And my hair will look pretty.

#2: HE'S GOING TO BE INSANE.  Berserk. Maniacal. I'm going to be "that mom".  The one helplessly holding the screaming tike, blood pressure through the roof, averting the eyes of the other travelers.  I'll long for a strong boozy drink but have my hands too full to attempt to drink a drink, and drinking strong boozy drinks is probably not the most appropriate of behaviors for a mother traveling solo with her child, anyway.  I'm regretting all those stink-eye looks I might have thrown the way of screaming babes in my pre-mommy days.  I'm sorry, you hear that karma?  I said I'm sorry! 

I'm also a little scared that my suitcase, which seems to have shrunk by half since my last trip, is going to EXPLODE.  It's sit-on-it-to-zip-it full.  I thought I was packing light, but half of Mister A's things found their way into my suitcase when his bag filled.  I'm not even taking hair spray.  Or my favorite hoodie.  All so Mister A can have his ocean sound machine and his most favorite toy.  Self sacrifice, the truest confirmation of motherhood.

All that said, I AM SO EXCITED!  To see my mama, my papa, my baby sister.  The pets, the beach, a birthday margarita.  A fun sisterly road trip, LA, Chelsea Lately.  So excited.  So even if tonight goes down in the books as "motherhood low point numero uno", it's all worth it.  

Adios Austin, adios 27th year on Earth, adios pets who I love dearly but who are driving me mad more often than not, adios J who I already miss way too much.  We're off!  And hoping for option #1......

Ready to go!

Friday, March 27, 2009


And today, just in time....the sun returns.  Literally and figuratively.  As much as I relished the gray and rainy days and the way they make the house feel content and cozy, the lack of sunshine was starting to drag me down by this stormy mid-morning.  Then early in the afternoon, in what seemed like an instant, the weather cleared.  The bright blue sky and the newly greened grass made me forget about the sour mood yesterday worked me into, prompted me to load up A and the stroller for a bookstore outing, really just an excuse to get out and enjoy the warmth.  And A's much sun-shinier today as well.  Oh, he's still taking speed naps during which I run from one end of the house to the other trying to get as much done as humanly possible, but I've decided to believe his naps are so short because he loves my company so much he just can't wait to wake up for more of it.  Delusion is a powerful thing, my friends, but it's a sanity saver.  Just go with it.

And the day just kept shining.  The traffic lights were all green, my drive-through Diet Coke had just the right ratio of ice and soda, there was a brand new hardcover at Border's I'd read about in People and made a mental note to read, Mister Anderson didn't scream or squeal or even squirm during the entire bookstore trip, there was an UsWeekly in my mailbox with no Speidi on the cover, I left S's house feeling even more like I've found one of those friends you will someday wonder how you got by without, my Fargoan friends checked in and are safe and sound thus far, my cat didn't kill any small creatures, my home remains burglar-free.  Happy news just kept popping up in my inbox, too.  Jenny, hope tonight's a big success for B!  Other good-news-sender-who-shall-remain-nameless, if you're reading, I'm ridiculously excited for you.  If you couldn't tell.

I leave you with A, perplexed by the Puffs.  You see, he's not yet mastered that thumb and forefinger grasp.  So the Puffs end up glued to his hands by a layer of slobber, then he makes this face at me as he wonders where all the Puffs went if not into his mouth:

Thursday, March 26, 2009

thursday: 1, mandie: 0

The day started with A in a shopping cart, screaming and howling and going red in the face because the object of his desire (my shopping list) was off limits.  The last time I let him "hold" the shopping list, I ended up fishing pieces of paper from the inside of his gums and leaving with a little less than half of what I'd come for.  So today, no list for A.  Little man was NOT impressed, and not afraid to let me know it.  This is a new side of A, one my dear friends assure me via Facebook is par for the course by this age.  It's the "want what I want when I want it so give it to me NOW OR I'LL JUST KEEP SCREAMING LIKE THIS FOREVER" syndrome.  In a weird way, I'm semi-pleased to see the kid's got some spunk, we all know life requires a fair bit of determination....but it's frustrating to say the least when a 15 minute spin around Target for a few non-optional necessities turns into what looks a whole lot like a Supernanny commercial.  Is he to young for the naughty step?  Probably.

From there, things just continued to disintegrate.  The quick version: dog poop on the carpet, puffs spilled across the tile, an adamant refusal to nap longer than a totally ineffective 30 minutes, puke on a few not so easily washable toys, puke in my hair (hair that I washed this morning), some unidentified nastiness on the pack n' play, my frustrating ineptitude at juggling a giant mind numbing work assignment with a giant owly 6 month old, a "15 minutes, tops" conference call that dragged into a painful 40 minute idiotfest....and the grand finale- a dead bunny.

Yeah, the bunny's dead.  So much for my belief that cats and rabbits could be friends.  I don't have any hard evidence that it was Ralph who did bunny in, but the timing seems rather suspicious.  Poor, poor bunny.  

I need a vacation.  Fortunately for me, there's one on the horizon.  Tuesday.  Me, A, a Jet Blue plane headed to the left coast.  A long, relaxing birthday week in the OC with mom, dad, and Megs.  Keepin' my eyes on the prize.....

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

B is for.....

Blowing Bubbles

A thinks bubbles are neat stuff.  I think it's tough to blow bubbles with one hand and get a good, centered photo with the other. 

Baby Bunny 
The little wabbit was out by our front walkway, after (I think) Ralph rustled him out of the big bushes.  He just hung out there while we blew our bubbles, then hippity-hopped back into his bushy bunny home.  I guess bunnies like bubbles, too.

Always a fun way to end our day.  Lots of sweet smiles and a squeaky clean baby.

And there you have it.  Our Wednesday, brought to you by the letter B.  I also got a long overdue pedicure (my last one was three days before A's arrival) that left me thisclose to falling asleep in the massage chair, then hit up the Baby Gap outlet for the most adorably preppy summer wardrobe for the little man.  J and A relaxed at home, napping and practicing their crawling skills (J's rocking it, A's still rocking and screeching).  It's been a very good day.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

i caved

All the well equipped babies have Sophie.  So say the other moms and the internets.  Sophie's a baby teether, a little giraffe imported from France, purportedly made from some special organic rubber that's magically soothing to the teething babe's gums.  If you ask me...she's a $20 glorified dog toy.  And yet, weakened by the claims of Sophie's wonderfulness and her cultish following, I caved to the peer pressure and sought one out at a local boutique last week. 

Mister Anderson clearly approves, judging by the death grip he's kept on Miss Sophie since their introduction on Friday.  
Griffin's a bit concerned that the baby's got a dog toy. 

Monday, March 23, 2009

boo for shots

Poor, poor bug.  This morning was his six month check up.  And the little guy, he gets so excited when we go someplace new.  He's at that golden baby age where everything is fun, everyone deserves a smile, life is exciting and just plain good.  The pediatrician's office was no exception.  Big smiles for the front desk ladies.  Grins for the med tech.  Happy chatter with the doctor.  Then BAM- needles in his legs.  All the sudden, A decided this was not fun or smile worthy or exciting in any good way.  He howled and clung to my neck as the blood ran down his chubby little thigh, tough guy coolness of the camo bandaid lost on him.  Fortunately my mommy skin has thickened, and unlike the 2 month appointment when I cried as hard as he did, I was tough for the both of us.  Well, I didn't cry.

And a day that starts out with a bunch of painfully surprising jabs to your leg for no good reason (as far as he knows) is just not a day that's going anywhere good.  It's been a long day for my whiny, feverish, clingy little man.  And as all moms know....a long day for the baby is a very long day for the mommy.  Poor, poor bug.  

As for the rest of the appointment, he's looking good.  He's looking like a long, tall Texan, minus the big white horse.  He's stretched out about 8 inches since birth (he's just under 28" now) and his once startling rate of weight gain seems to be tapering.  He's "down" to the 85th % at 19 pounds, 13 ounces.  This still means only 15 of 100 bulky babes his age outweigh him, but it's a definite drop from his previous 95%!  His head's still huge.  Because his brain is huge, that's why.

In unAnderson news....happy 3rd birthday to the sweetest little Sheltie I know....Griffin!  Since recent photos are limited thanks to his irrational belief that looking into the camera equals a sure and certain death, here's an old favorite of my GriffyPoo as a pup.  This picture is dangerous.  His cuteness makes me think we need a puppy.  Which we don't.  We need a puppy about as much as I need a kick to the shins.  Or Anderson needs a jab to the thighs.  Suffice it to say, no puppies needed here.  Seriously.  But oh, how sweet a pup he was....

Happy Birthday Griffin!

Friday, March 20, 2009

not so normal

You know how you know you're a little bit crazy?

You take your cat to the park.  And tie him to a tree.  And when a Realtor listing a home in your neighborhood approaches and asks your permission to photograph this embarrassing scene, you allow it.  I don't know why he'd want to photograph a cat tied to a tree at a park for his new listing, because if I were house shopping, I'd probably avoid a home where my neighbor would be the type of person to take her cat to the park.  And tie it to a tree.  

Even A thought this was a little crazy, and we're talking about a kid who regularly eats sweet potato through his nose.  

I call this one: "what in tarnation is the cat doing at the park?"

And this one: "I'll just eat my mum-mum and pretend this isn't happening".

But for real...Ralph needed this little field trip.  Ralph's one of those kitties that gives kitties a bad name.  He's whiny, he's picky, he considers it his God given RIGHT to ruin your Pottery Barn (okay, outlet) sofa and pee on your bath towel.  He's the type of cat that, if J weren't the saint that he is, causes those "it's me or the cat" type marital disputes.  Because you see, despite my ruined couch and my ruined towels and some days, my ruined sanity, I love my stupid cat.  So when he spends alllllll morning, and alllllll early afternoon wandering the house meowing plaintively and pawing at the doors, but his backyard rope just isn't quite the type of satisfying outdoor experience he's seeking, you put him on a leash, and you take him to the park.  And you hope and pray your neighbors don't see you, because you quite like being known as a sane person.

Now speaking of Ralph, when A was born, somebody gave us a little orange stuffed cat.  Which Anderson sweetly believes is the real Ralph.  He's SO thrilled that "Ralph" will put up with being shaken, chewed, hugged, and slobbered upon from time to time.  

And because I believe in giving credit where credit is due....my dear husband J, at long last, completed the "TV Mounting Project That (I thought) Shall Never End".  It was a team effort (J, electrician, Ex-Roomie G, my patience, wine, AT&T when the mounted TV looked real pretty but didn't um, play TV) but it's done, and it looks marvelous.  Taaaa daaaaah!

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

in the yard

A summery Wednesday (80-but-breezy midwest summery, not egg-frying-on-sidewalk Texas summery), a morning meet up with fun friends at the park, time to lounge with A & J in the freshly mowed yard this afternoon.  And what could possibly be more summery than a brand new sun hat?  Lookin' good, A.
Otherwise, no news to report today.  And after the drama-rama that was last week....no news is very good news at this casa.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

6 months

Mister Anderson, 6 months old on his first St. Patrick's Day.
How can it be that half a year has passed since he was brand new to the world? 
"They" warned us it would go by quickly.  But you're never prepared for just how quickly your baby grows up.   He's got teeth, he rolls, he sits, he scoots, he very nearly crawls.  And each day, he finds some new way to make us realized how incredibly blessed we are to parent this child.

Monday, March 16, 2009

cart rider

We were those parents at the store yesterday.  I say we.  Some (read: J) might argue it was just me.  Whatever.  Anderson took his first cruise in the big boy seat of the shopping cart.  Nestled in the big boy germ-blocking oh-so-homely cart cover, of course.  I used to see moms using those things and cringe, but usually because the user was also rocking mom jeans.  (Which, I assure you, I was NOT wearing at the store yesterday, nor do I or will I ever even own mom jeans, for that matter.)  Alas....it's the cart cover or the billions of lurking grocery store germs, and since somebody told me grocery stores are second only to hospitals in the abundance of germs....cart cover it is.  And I brought the camera.  And took like 20 pictures.  At the grocery store.  (In my non-mom jeans, remember, I've got that going for me.)  I accept the fact that I'm a huge nerd in my excitement over this occasion.  

Anyway, he was one happy child in his new seat.  And he was one popular child as well.  The deli counter guys, the old ladies in produce, the wine rep in the wine department- everyone just had to say hello.  And he just grinned back, clearly aware that he was doing something different and exciting, and more than happy to bask in all this attention.  

No more Bjorn for this guy, he's moving on up!  (And despite some bittersweet feelings I have on that matter, my back thanks him.  He's heavy.)
In hindsight, I'm recognizant of the fact that maybe the adult beverage department wasn't the best choice of backdrops.

Tomorrow.....our boy A turns 6 months old.  1/2 a year under his belt. (If he wore a belt.  Which he doesn't, just like I don't wear mom jeans.  Ahem.  Where was I....)  I can hardly believe it's been 6 months since this boy blessed our lives so richly with his sweetness.  Tune in tomorrow for his 6 month photo.  (Or as A's very funny Grandpa calls it, the "mug shot".)

Saturday, March 14, 2009

organic kitty

Seriously, Whole Foods sells everything!  Today's special....organic George.
Anderson woke up from his nap this afternoon in the sweetest of sweet baby moods.  Quiet and calm, curious, content to sit and watch as I changed his bedding, emptied the diaper genie, neatened up his room.  He'd beam up at me whenever I paused to chat or scoot him back on his blanket, just happy as a clam to hang out and watch me work.  Of course, the smiles sent me running for the camera, a few quiet Saturday afternoon shots. 
Renee, if you're reading, he LOVES that blanket you made.  For cuddling, for playing....even for eating.  Thanks!

But more often these days, my attempts to photograph A come out looking like this:
The boy's into grabbing, as any inquisitive (nearly) 6 month old is.  Cameras, kitties, car keys, hair, my nose....the list goes on.  There's nothing he doesn't want to feel with his little hands, then eat.  Kitties included.  Hey, at least they're organic!

Thursday, March 12, 2009

did he do it?

Because I promised it, and because this is supposed to be one of those sappy happy mommy blogs, I'll start with the A goodness.  In the first few seconds of this video, I swear he took his first tiny (itty bitty teeny weeny) crawls.  Maybe not deliberately, and I'm not really up on my crawling technicalities....but I do think he may have done it.  I didn't even NOTICE until I played the video back, so obscenely tired am I.  

If you're not one of A's grandparents or aunties, you can probably stop watching at 10 seconds.  Not much happening after that point.
I'd also like to point out A's super adorable new pajamas, courtesy of Mimi.  They are so cute they're damn near dangerous- I just want to eat him up in these jams.  And the beloved monkey blankie- Grandma Kiki's doing....those grandmas have impeccable taste.  Thanks, moms.  ALSO, just don't look at the pile of wires underneath the console table.  They're part of the "TV mounting project that shall never end".  Seriously.  

You know what I just LOVE?  Four hour windows.  You know- "the tech will be there between noon and four, so please waste your whole day sitting around, he'll be there at 3:59 just when you've given up all hope of his arrival".  We had a four hour window today, so I spent most my afternoon scared of the doorbell ringing (because if you've been paying attention, NOTHING good has happened after the doorbell rings this week).  Who were we waiting on today, you ask?  The security company.  The one who made a tiny boo-boo installing our system yesterday.  A boo-boo that resulted in a blaring alarm at 3am.  My, was that fun.  I calmed down considerably when J came home from work last night, and somewhere around 2:50am, I was calm enough to sleep.  For 10 minutes.  Then the alarms and all kinds of unsettling chaos at a very inopportune hour as the rain poured and the wind blew.  Just your average horror movie opening scene.  The dark and stormy night....alarm screaming....baby crying....  

I really wish I'd just get over this and move on, but it's just not that easy.  It's all a little tougher because I've got an innate tendency to paranoia.  I used to stay on my grandparents' farm as a kid.  They're in rural North Dakota, the kind of place where you leave the keys in the car, the doors unlocked, the kids play outside from dawn 'til dusk without surveillance (this was the case in the mid-80s, at least).  But during my visits, as much as I loved every single happy daytime spoiled-rotten moment on the farm....the darkness of those country nights scared me silly.  I'd creep out of bed when I knew my grandpa had retired for the night and lock all the doors, double checking that I didn't forget the patio door.  I think I lectured them once or twice about taking the keys out of cars.  I was like seven, mind you.  So anyway, all that to say that I was a scaredy cat before this, and I'm a little worried that I'll now be seriously obsessive.  All because a couple of thugs would rather steal our hard earned belongings than work to buy their own.

And you know what's ironic?  Today is our two year anniversary in this house.  Not that I'd usually put a party hat on my house and buy it a cake, but I'm feeling especially un-festive on this particular house-iversary.   

Wednesday, March 11, 2009


I just set off our fancy schmancy new house alarm.  The very thing that's supposed to make me feel safe just about caused my heart to stop beating for a few seconds, and that can't be safe.  Apparently I forgot to turn the motion sensor option off when I turned the alarm function on...so many buttons, so little sleep.  So I exit the bathroom, walk to the kitchen, and it's an explosion of noise.  I froze.  Then screamed.  Then ran up the stairs (five at a time) to make sure A was okay, poor scared kitty on my heels.  Then answered the call from the security company and assured them that I was fine, just a sleep deprived sobbing newbie to the whole lockdown thing.  Then sat on the couch hugging the cat and bawling my eyes out.

I hate being scared, feeling so weak.  Last night I jumped five feet across the family room and into J's arms when the dishwasher kicked in.  Then we spent a sleepless night on the couch, because I refused to sleep in our room- I had to have the crib in my line of sight.  All evening I've been a wreck, afraid to go downstairs.  The neighbor's dog barked and I freaked.  The phone rang, I freaked.  You get the picture.  I be freaking.  I also be hoping this be passing soon.

It's just been a long 24 hours.  I'll do my best to bring cuteness back tomorrow and cut out the downer posts.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009


I've nor the time or energy to explain this in any creative manner.....we had an attempted break-in today.  I feel violated, I feel scared, I feel PISSED.

I put A down for his afternoon nap and was checking my email when the doorbell rang.  Big paranoid freak that I (thankfully) am, I didn't answer the door.  The bell rang again.  And again.  At this point my "mama bear" instinct told me something was weird...that feeling you get where it's hard to breathe right and your hair feels prickly on your neck.  I ran into our bedroom and grabbed the phone, then looked out the window.  There was a guy in the driveway talking to someone.  I figured they were selling junk or spreading the word of Jehovah and were on their way to the next house....but something still felt weird.  I tried to calm myself- it's Tuesday, 2pm, sunny, we're in suburbia.  You're paranoid!  Burglars come at night dressed in black.  Burglars hit the scary neighborhoods or the super fancy ones.  Not here, not us, not now.
A few seconds later, the doorbell rang again.  And again.  Now my heart was beating so hard I heard it in my ears, clearly something was wrong here.  I started toward Anderson's room.  Then I heard a pounding sound come from the door, and with an awful sick feeling in my stomach, watched the door start to jiggle in the frame.  Scared doesn't even begin to describe how I felt right then.  I yelled as fiercely as I could muster that they better get the #@$* away from my house.  Cowardly losers that they are, they ran.  Jumped in their car and drove off so fast I couldn't get the plate number from our second story window, but I did get a great description of the wannabe burglars and their getaway car.

Cops came, J came home, I cried and cried and cried, alerted the neighbors, got on the phone with security companies.  And started with the "what ifs".  What if they'd gotten in.  What if they'd hurt my sweet boy.  What if we HADN'T been here and they'd destroyed our home. Home is where you feel safe, your shelter.  To have someone even TRY to invade that....well, it makes me feel very sick and very afraid.

The security system will be installed tomorrow.  I'll be even MORE hyper-vigilant going forward.  So to my friends and family, be careful.  It's one of those "happens to someone else" type things.....until it's you.  Your house.  Lock your doors, set your alarms, keep your guard up.

I'm exhausted, but wanted to get the details out for my own record and in hopes that it will cause ONE of you to be a little more careful and avoid an even worse outcome.  Things could have been so much worse.  Thank GOD they weren't.  

Monday, March 9, 2009

belly's up

Eek!  A's crawling attempts are progressing.  Until now, his (seriously plump) belly has served as an anchor of sorts, so he'd just lay there and wiggle and squirm, flailing his arms and legs.  Today, we have liftoff.  He figured out how to get his belly off the ground, and it made me very excited and very scared at the same time.  I mean, I know crawling is good.  It puts him one step closer to being able to fetch me Diet Cokes.  But it also means he's growing up, gaining independence, becoming less of a baby and more of a big boy.    

My little man getting a little closer to mobility....

Saturday, March 7, 2009

more auntie loving

This boy has the coolest aunties.  And they sure do love their boy!

Auntie LaLo, better known as Lauren, came to visit today.  (Papaw too, but I didn't get a photo with him.)  A enjoyed seeing them soooo much that he decided not to nap, but surprisingly the boy remained good natured and charming as ever.  I enjoyed the company very much too.  Lauren's got a wedding coming up and it was very fun to chat flowers and cakes and dresses.  And admire the very sparkly jewel, of course.  Come back soon!  Just don't call me S-O-B or break my trees!

In other news, Austinites, please be careful when using weather.com to decide what to wear before leaving the house.  Make sure you type in a-u-s-T-I-N.  Otherwise something crazy might happen.  Like you end up inadvertently viewing the forecast for Austerlitz, NY, and getting yourself all excited about the very chilly, cloudy, 56 degree day.  In your giddiness, you might put on your Ugg boots and grab a scarf, only to get outside and realize it's 80 degrees, cuss out weather.com for its' idiocy, come back in the house to recheck the forecast, and realize it was most definitely user error.

Friday, March 6, 2009

not my baby

See my happy boy?  He's always that cheery, that sweet, that clean.  He's angelic, really.  I mean, he never does any of the following things, and definitely not all in the span of one endless Friday.  He certainly doesn't invent a trick where he waits until he's laid down for a nap to poop, forcing me to return to his room for a change, despite the "no returning to the baby's room until naptime is over" rule.  He'd never repeat that trick during his next nap, this time adding a giggle when he sees me enter the room.  Then he would never kick his feet all over the place during the diaper change until his left foot lands squarely into the messy diaper I thought I'd set far out of his reach, then jerk that foot out of my hand and to the side, placing a big smear of you-know-what on the wall. He does not go on to fight both naps so fiercely that it takes 90 minutes to lull him into a nap that ends far before it should, and end up so overtired that he turns into a grizzly bear of a child by 4pm, one who reacts to his mom's attempt to read him a book by punching her square in the left eyeball (probably not intentional, but still) and acts like his exersaucer is a torture chamber when set inside so his mom could so something crazily self indulgent (a 60 second bathroom break).   He definitely never spits up bright orange butternut squash all down the front of his shirt just as we run into the store to pick up some Tylenol to fight the (tiny) fever he's got.  And at the checkout line, my son would never dream of grunting and straining with all his might so boisterously that everyone in check out lines 1-20 is well aware there's a pooping baby in the house.  And I'd never be "that mom"- the one who still thinks he's the cutest little bug in the place, bright red grunty face and stinky butt and barf smeared shirt and all. 

Not my boy.  He's perfect.  See?

Thursday, March 5, 2009

sippy cupping

I don't know how the kid who was born yesterday (right?) can be old enough to have a sippy cup, but according to the book of all things baby, it's time to start practicing the art of sippycupping.  I fully expected him to give the sippy cup his patented "mom's nuts" look and toss it to the floor, but surprisingly, A was pretty adept with the cup!  (The point here isn't actually to drink anything- just to practice the act of drinking from a cup.)  With skills like this, homeboy will be chugging Diet Coke with mommy by next week.  
Note #1: the noise you hear in the background is what a Sheltie sounds like when he tries to bark with a mouthful of jingle ball.  Then drops jingle ball into water bowl.  

Note #2: Ashley, thanks again for the adorable shirts you brought A!  I particularly love the one he's wearing in the video, but he's made a lot of use of all of them already.  Thanks, girlie!  

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

a quickie

the good: the exhilarating discovery today that my very favorite pre-pregnancy workout shorts fit once again.  They zip, they button, they absolutely do not cause a muffin top.  Could it be that my hips are not forever changed, as I once feared?

the bad: Megan left.  So sad.

the ugly: the brownies are gone.

Monday, March 2, 2009

eating with auntie

Auntie Megan's here!  A was very pleased to see a new face this morning.  It's got to get old looking at the same old mug (mine) day after day after day.  She took over afternoon feeding duties, and judging by this ecstatic grin, she did well.  (There was an "apples up the nose" incident, but that happens....)

We're having a superb time doing absolutely NADA.  (Well, other than a nice long walk around the 'hood this morning and a whole lotta baby playing.)  But tonight.  Oh, tonight.  What's tonight?  Only THE MOST DRAMATIC ROSE CEREMONY EVER.  For real.  The finale of the Bachelor!!  At last!  Melissa or Molly?  We've prepared guac and brownies for the Bachelor Watching Party (of two), and will be waiting with bated breath to see whether the internet chatter proves accurate....or if we've once again been fooled by Chris Harrison & Co. when they promise drama and deliver three hours of flashbacks and tearful deliberation, a super cheesy seaside proposal, then a confirmation the next day that the couple is O-V-E-R, leaving us swearing "never to watch another stupid episode of this stupid show".  Until next season.  

At least we KNOW the guac will be good.