Mandajuice

Sugar mommy

By about an hour before Dave got home last night, I'd almost completely lost my patience.  It was 6:00, I was trying to get dinner ready and Alex kept sneaking out the back door (where earlier he had managed to stomp Harry's poop all over the deck.)  Normally, I'm pretty calm and not one to get easily annoyed - and we hadn't even had that much of a busy day.  A trip to Costco, a nice long nap and a romp around the complex with his new lawnmower/bubblemachine.  It didn't dawn on me until almost midnight that I hadn't had any sugar all afternoon.

Um, duh.

So, again, it's the battle of fat 'n happy vs. lean 'n mean.  I'm pretty sure we all know how this is going to turn out.

Today was much more fun, anyhow.  Had the ladies over for (incredibly burnt) muffins and coffee.  Four moms plus four babes makes the condo just full enough for a little chaos to ensue.  Alex knocked BOTH of the girlies on the head with toys and endured his naughty spot twice.  Of course, he didn't bother Joe at all, but I'm guessing he's smart enough to see that Joe is bigger than him and not quite so easy to bully around.  Needless to say, we'll be working on correcting this behavior as soon as possible.

After the boy wakes up from his nap (on the big boy bed again - more on this another time), we'll be heading off to our cocktail hour with playgroup.  Should be a fun little outing.  I'm hoping he decides against knocking any of these playmates in the head.  Especially since the naughty spot isn't portable yet.  Either way, I'll try to remember my camera!

Evidence of fun

We had such a terrifically good time at the Discovery Museum yesterday.  So much fun, in fact, that today we're taking the day off.  I might head out to buy diapers, but that's it.  I'm a little overdosed on fun.  And my feet may never forgive me.

All of the kids loved the new Wonder Cabinet exhibit.  In fact, both Sheela and Jamie ended up buying annual memberships, so (yay!) we can all go back as often as possible.  You've never seen happier kidlets.  Joe and Alex kept doing this thing where they got so excited they'd shudder all over like a wee little toddler brain-gasm.  Alex zonked out in his carseat on the way home and when he woke up three hours later in his crib, I found the lone Cheeto he'd been gripping when he fell asleep.  He hadn't budged the whole time.

I never noticed this before, but I take a CRAPLOAD of photos.  SO MANY PHOTOS.  And if you're so inclined, you can check them all out at our photo gallery.  The 200+ photos I took in April are here.  And I have some galleries set up for special events here too.

I'm beat.  More later.

Busy baby

I just realized we are having WAY too much fun this week.

SATURDAY: Pasta and Pipes
SUNDAY: Airport fun
MONDAY: IKEA & DSW with Grandma, Playgroup at the park
TUESDAY: Rancho San Antonio hike
WEDNESDAY: Children's Discovery Museum
THURSDAY: Happy Hollow
FRIDAY:  Possible AM playgroup, definite FAN Club meeting (Friday After-Nap when moms in Las Madres get together and booze it up before the weekend)
SATURDAY: To Fresno for Parker's 1st B-day party

The best thing is that aside from Happy Hollow, just about everything we're doing (aside from food and shoes) is FREE.  You can't beat that!

They kept saying bach, bach, bach, bach

On Sunday, we drove out to San Carlos to have brunch at the Airport Cafe.  It was hard to tell which one of my two boys was having a better time watching the planes land.  Check out the silly grins:

Yesterday we had a big outing day with Grandma during which IKEA, DSW and Albertson's were all conquered.  Then we went to playgroup at the park.  I was beat by the end of the day.  But then, last night, I had bestowed upon me the divine honor of preparing and feeding my child his very first cheeseburger, the most sacred food of our clan.  One of the reasons I married this kid's father was because he answered correctly when asked what his favorite food was.

See the perfect itty bitty bun?  The adorable mini-beef patty?  The delicate leaf of lettuce adorning the melted cheese?  That burger was so good it should've been illegal.  Fortunately, the boy pounded it down, dipping it ferociously in ketchup and mustard.  I guess we'll keep him.

Today we took a nice little hike at Rancho San Antonio with Las Madres.  Alex, again, thoroughly enjoyed himself with all the other kids.  I'm beginning to think the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to his social skills.

For MONTHS now Dave had been telling me "Our boy needs CHICKENS".  Which is odd considering the man himself is a little freaked out by them and won't, for the life of him, pick one up.  You'd think a man built like a linebacker would fear nothing as small and as stupid as a wee chicken, but you'd be wrong.  For whatever reason, Dave is really hung up on the idea that we MUST OWN CHICKENS.  I think this may account for about 50% of the reasoning behind the planned move to WA.  CHICKENS.  Fortunately, scaredy pants aren't genetic.


"Chicken"

I know I'm repeating myself here, but I just LOVE going to playgroup.  Alex really needs the interaction with other insane toddlers.

And the love.  You can't forget the love.

Pipes and pasta

Dave and I continue to hash it out over the number of kids issue.  It's the only "discussion" we ever have that we can't seem to resolve.  Which, I guess, is one of the things that makes our marriage so strong, we NEVER leave disagreements on the table and walk away.  We always talk and talk and talk (and talk some more) until we come to an agreement.  Communication has never been a problem for us with Dave, by profession, being an oral arguer and me, being, well, me.  And while the "discussing" part is generally a lengthy pain in the ass, it does lead to the making up part, if you know what I mean, and I can't complain about that.  That almost makes me want to start more "discussions".

The weather has been awful so our plans to finish the deck this weekend were a bust.  We ended up just cruising around yesterday afternoon running errands and hanging out.  The highlight of the weekend for me (aside from making up) was taking the boy out to Angelino's for dinner last night.  We got off to a late start at around seven and the boy cried the whole way there.  I'd promised him pasta for dinner and apparently the concept of going out to a restaurant was too much for him.  When we got in the car, he freaked out that we were obviously driving away from the pasta. 

Angelino's, aside from being a bit shabby and quite funky, is the. perfect. restaurant. for. a. toddler.  You see, they have a Wurlitzer, one of those gianormous theatre organs that were built for silent movies.  And this neat (and obviously a bit weird since who the hell learns to play a giant organ?) guy who plays sets every Saturday night.  Click on the link to see what I'm talking about, but these organs are cool.  Playing one appears to be a full-body work out - with both feet playing melodies on giant pedals and four sets of keyboards and switches controlling all the pipes.  In the hour we were there, we heard everything from the "Beef, it's what's for dinner song" (which I think may be called Round Up or something) to the theme from Star Wars.  Unfortunately, he didn't know the Popeye song by heart so Alex didn't have a complete joy overdose.

At first the boy was clingy since the organ is nothing if not loud.  But once he warmed up, he REALLY warmed up and by the end of the night he was bouncing and dancing in the booth and singing along.  He absolutely loved the "pipes" and we've never seen a better behaved boy at a restaurant.  We were even able to get him to sit in the booster seat instead of the high chair. 

And can that child eat?  Let me tell you!  Ever since I took away the bottles, which I'm proud to say I did hastily like ripping off a bandaid, he's been a little baby garbage disposal.  Last night he ate clam chowder and garlic bread and fettuccine alfredo, then giant globs of melted cheese from Dad's pizza.  He couldn't get enough.  I am positive this is because he's almost completely given up milk.  Stubborn little guy won't drink milk from a cup at all, so he's down to an ounce or two, if that.  Well, that and my own milk production has tripled since ditching the bottles and he's nursing several times a day.  We'll see if he starts losing weight.  I'm not all that worried, though, seeing how much food he's eating now.  We almost can't believe it. 

The weekend is very different when you're working.  Monday's always there in the back of your mind and it ruins your enjoyment.  Now I feel like I can really enjoy the time with Dave home, really relax and have fun.  I put off all of the housework until Monday and I'm in a much better mood, much more patient with Alex and less rigid.  I can't complain.  Life is good.

There must be something in the water

I keep meaning to mention how much I'm enjoying the social aspects of staying home with Alex.  It's been a LONG time since I've had any real friends who I am able to see on a regular basis.  Las Madres is great because the group is large enough that playgroups are rarely cancelled.  It's comforting to know that I can be around real, adult humans no matter what at least a couple of times a week.  The events they plan, like the farm, tend to be fun and Alex obviously enjoys tormenting the other children.  I'm hoping to find a few women who live close-by to hang out with more often.  The best part is that their houses are all baby-proof.

The other thing I keep forgetting to mention is that EVERYONE, and I'm talking like HALF of the women in our club (where all the mom's have children born in 2003), are pregnant again or have already had another child.  And most of the women who aren't pregnant claim to be trying again already.  Apparently, two years apart is the ideal spacing between children.  I had no idea.

Dave and I, of course, have talked at length about spacing and when to start trying for #2.  Technically, we aren't actively preventing a #2 at this point, so who knows.  We won't actually start trying till Alex turns two.  I have some bittersweet feelings about all of this.  Dave wants only one more child.  I want two more children.  If I get my way and we end up with three kids, then I'd want to start trying immediately for the next one with a goal of spacing them all two years apart. 

BUT, and this is a big but, if we only have ONE more child, I want to put it off as long as possible.  I can't put into words how much I am enjoying this part of my life, the part with the small children underfoot, and I just DON'T want it to be over.  I am not ready to be done with this part.  So the longer we wait for #2, the longer I get to have small children around.  Before we were married, we agreed on only two, so I fear Dave may get his way on this one.  Which just makes my heart ache.  I've never been one for a compromise.  I'm still hoping I can bribe him with a boat.  Or maybe a Harley?  A swedish nanny?  What'd'ya say, babe?

ONE MORE THING!!!!!&^!%&^!%^$97qw938

Yesterday?  While I was out shopping with the boy?  We came across the scariest piece of fashion I may ever have witnessed.  Seriously.  I'm not kidding.  I actually decided that these boots, these scary, scary boots, were so ugly that no one would believe me if I tried to describle them. 

So I took a picture:

Sorry for the nightmares.

Of horses and horseshite

The farm turned out to be a barrel of fun yesterday.  They had this neat horse-drawn train ride that employed horses that are actually bigger than Clydesdales.  We were all surprised by how fast that horse could book it while dragging our asses along the track. 

Mostly it was just a beautiful day to be outside.  On a farm.  Alex made a new girlfriend, Gianna, who he fell madly in love with and began chasing everywhere. 

From now on I'll be referring to him as The Kamakaze Hugger.

I even captured the first shot of my son being a dog and checking out some booty.  Apparently he likes his women curly-haired and voluptuous, just like his father.

Before the train ride we bought some organic strawberries, grown right there on the farm, and Alex gobbled them down.  He was hungry after chasing tail all afternoon. 

Last night we went to a Las Madres Speaker Night on the topic of potty training.  I knew ten minutes into the lecture that I disagreed with most of what the woman was saying, but we ended up staying through most of it.  And?  Not learning a damn thing.  Except that Alex is pretty ready to potty train and we better get moving before he gets un-ready.  Most of what she said was feely-good horseshit about how you can never, NEVER rush it or even THINK about doing it on any kind of a timetable lest you teach your child that, EGADS NO! you have actual real-life expectations of him.  Blah blah blabbledygook.   Listening to advice like this is how an entire generation of kids is still crapping in their pants at age four. 

According to my mom (and Dave's mom as well), we were all potty-trained by the time we were Alex's age, which was six months later than they themselves were potty-trained.  None of us are scarred.  In fact, so comfortable am I in my potty-skills, I can even poop with the door open.

But that's not what I wanted to share about last night.  What I wanted to remember was that on the way home from Grandma's house, Alex would NOT shut up.  He was trying (and trying and trying) to tell us something and we could not figure it out.  I have a feeling this is soon to be par for the course.  This is what he kept repeating, changing the order of the words every time:

Bee
Bite
Out
House

Occasionally he'd throw in a fifth word that neither of us could understand.  I asked him if they found a bee in the house and took it outside.  He nodded.  And bees bite?  More nodding.

Mom?  Any clue?  We're at a loss for (his) words.

 

 

Second time is a charm

I just wrote an entire post and then AGAIN stupidly clicked on a link from my e-mail program.  I'm such a giant dumb ass.  I'll try to remember it while I spit some more flames.

I recently discovered that I can blog during Sesame Street.  Fortunately, since I was raised on a strict PBS-only diet myself, I have zero guilt about allowing him this one show every day.  His love affair with ELMO has already begun (even though I much prefer Grover).  By the time I was four, I could recite for you the daily PBS lineup, starting with Sit and Be Fit and ending with 3-2-1 Contact.  And I turned out fine.

Stop laughing.

Yesterday it was only mildly disturbing, wait, who am I kidding, it was nightmarishly disturbing that the phlebotemist's lab was PACKED and we waited and waited with all the other soon-to-be-pricked patients.  Alex flirted and made quick friends, handing out copies of "Country Home" and "GQ" and saying "thank you" to everyone.  When his name was called, I blurted out "Come on sweetie, it's time to get your blood sucked" and everyone visibly winced.  And since they draw your blood in a tiny cubicle that's all of three feet from the waiting room, all of the boy's new friends could hear him scream bloody murder while I held him down.  That's FUN, lemme tellya.  Why his father gets off without having to attend these torture sessions, I'll never know.  Moms always have to be the bad guys.

Otherwise, his appointment went well and his development is right on track.  The only thing to worry about now is Alex's teeth.  With all the corn syrup I have to put in his bottles to keep him from getting constipated, there's cause for alarm.  The fact that he won't let me brush his teeth doesn't help.  I've been instructed to just keep trying and make it a priority.  So I'm attempting to bribe him with an ELMO toothbrush.

The best thing I can do to help his teeth?  Ditch the bottles.  Dr. Nee-nee says we should be bottle-free in less than a week.  When I worried aloud that this would mean drinking FAR less milk, the good doc reminded me THAT IS THE POINT.  Less milk.  More food.  Better for his teeth.  We're starting today.  So please say a prayer for my breasts.  "Boob" is the first thing Mr. Pants is going to want when he figures out there are no more bottles.  And I fear the girls have become so accustomed to slacking off that they're really going to be pissed about the extra demand.  At least the doc didn't give me any flack about continuing to nurse.

What else?  I am a giant blob of fatitude.  I'm up 15 lbs from my low-weight.  I hate it.  I've had to buy an entire spring/summer wardrobe in size 14, which pains me.  I just haven't decided if it pains me more than giving up cake would.  And there is nothing that makes me quake in my boots more than the thouht of going on a DIET.  Diet is like a bad word in my house.  I know if I go down that road I'll end up fatter than I am now.  So I'm just going to have to get more exercise and learn to BE HAPPY WITH MY SIZE 14 ASS.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Today we're off to a Las Madres outing to a FARM.  Should be a blast.

Growth spurt!

Two shots and (yikes!) a blood draw later and Mr. Pants is doing fine.  25 lbs, 8 oz., 34 inches tall.  Up from the 25th percentile to the 50th for weight and from the 75th up to the 95th for height. 

More later.  The big boy is done with his pretzels and strawberries and wants "down" from his high chair.  Oh.  I was exceptionally proud that he's meant to know 25 to 50 words now, growing to a vocabulary of 75-100 words by age 2.  He's already at 75-100 words by my latest count.  He even said the doctor's name this morning - Doc-tow nee-nee (Dr. Whitney).

Observant little sprog

The zeal with which my husband has been watching the papal proceedings is beginning to freak me out.  I didn't marry a religious man.  Not by any stretch of the imagination.  And certainly NOT a Catholic.  Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just not my thing.  I prefer a secular home. 

I swear, when the pope was on his deathbed, we had to interrupt South Park every THREE minutes to see if he had died yet.  Today he went to work TWO HOURS late just so he could see who the successor would be.  WHY DOES HE CARE???  I have no clue.  And I'm not sure he does either.

Alex, on the other hand, took one look at the new Pope and proclaimed him:

"Santa!"