Next summer's vacation.

Ocracoke this year. Here next year. A whole island to yourself.

Charter post of the Tom-Cruise-is-a-tool-webring.

I never really liked Tom Cruise [edited not to be kind-of-over-the-top bitchy]:). Too cocky for me and not a very good actor either. Always seems to be overcompensating for something. Maybe something is a little smaller than he'd like. Besides his stature, I mean.

Anyway, most of you have probably heard about his ridiculous comments in his Billy Bush interview last week. I know stupid people exist in this world, and I know that stupid people have a myriad of opinions on a wide variety of topics. And I would not argue for one second that they are not entitled to express them. But it takes an incredible amount of stupidity, plus a generous scoop of arrogance, ignorance and tactlessness, to air your opinions on national television by criticizing somebody who's life experiences and choices have absolutely no bearing on you whatsoever and expounding on topics you know absolutely nothing about. Talking out your ass, I think they call it. Your tiny little flat white midget-man, dating-someone-half-your-age-who-probably-is-more-into-the-idea-of-
Tom-Cruise-being-interested-in-her-than-the-reality-of-it-after-all-
she-did-just-break-up-with-someone-else-someone-who-is-taller-and-younger
-than-you-and-isn't-a-Scientology-freak-(I-think), toolish ass. [My apologies to any Scientologists who are reading this. I really have nothing against Scientology per se. Just against Tom Cruise.]

So, that's my little rant against Tom-the-Tool. I was hoping that maybe others more artful than myself in humorously and entertainingly (yeah I know, it's not a word, but you know what I mean)tarring and feathering the abominably stupid among us, might hold forth on this topic so I could just link to them and say, "yeah that." But maybe it's just not worth anyone else's breath.

Tool.

Happy 5 months, Baby Andrew!

You are five months old today. What a sweet joy you are! The time has gone by so quickly. You are a chubby little guy and are also very long. You like to smile a lot, especially when people talk to you. You charm everyone with your grins and happy disposition.

You like to eat and get very mad when you can’t eat when you want to, but once your belly is fully, you are happy again. When you are hungry, you will grab anything near you and pull it quite forcibly towards your mouth. Attack baby, we call you.

You’ve started making a few new noises over the last week. I swear one sound is “ma-ma”, but although it might be music to my ears, it’s just another interesting thing you can do with your voice to you.

You started rolling over from your back to your front a lot over the last couple of weeks. You tend to get stuck on your belly though, and after lifting yourself up and looking around for a couple minutes, get quickly bored and start squawking for someone to roll you back over or pick you up or otherwise pay attention to you.

You’ve gotten good at reaching out for things that are held in front of you. You are strong and can muster a pretty good whack at mommy’s head with your mini-python arms.

Lately, you like to lay on your back or side and hold your hands in front of your face, turning them and watching them, occasionally talking to you them.

You love to watch your big brother and all his antics. He can make you giggle by pretending to sneeze over and over. I think you are going to be crawling after him sooner than we know it.

You giggle when mommy or daddy kiss your belly or nuzzle your armpits. Kisses on your chubby cheeks are a cause for big grins, too.

We started you on rice cereal. Or I should say, you’ve tried it a couple of times. The second time, you seemed to be getting more of a handle on this eating thing. We’re not worried.

Most nights, you end up sleeping in mommy and daddy’s bed for at least some part of the night. Your favorite way to go to sleep is with your forehead tucked up against something – mommy, a pillow, whatever’s close by.

You like to touch things -- our faces, mommy's hair, blankets, the carpet, whatever.

We call you Baby Andrew. For your sake, I hope this is something that we can drop easily when you are no longer a baby. If people are calling you "Baby Andrew" when you are 35, you can blame us. :)

We look forward to watching you and your brother continue discovering and exploring your world.

Vacationing.

We are going on a real vacation this summer. Well, as real as it can be with a bambino and a 2-year-old. Heh. This is our first vacation since 2002 when we went to England/Wales/Scotland (mostly Scotland), oh yeah, and Iceland. That was back when we had two incomes and flights were cheap out of Boston.

So, where are you going, you ask. Well, we are going to the beach that was recently ranked as the 2nd Top Beach in the U.S. by Dr. Beach. (Don't ask me who he is, because I have no idea, but what great taste in beaches he has. . ) Is it in Hawaii, you ask? Nope. Is it in California, you ask? Nope. Is it in Florida? Well, the No. 1 beach is, but this one is in NC. We're going to a remote island called Ocracoke at the tip of the Outer Banks. It's accessible only by ferry, but has a busy little village. I like having stuff to do and see -- a little history / a little artsy culture / good restaurants, while J prefers being away from people. Cape Cod in April was great for him, but too devoid of people for me. Now that I think about it though, he likes B&Bs. I don't. I don't really like having people wait on me, plus one thing I like about staying somewhere like a hotel, is that I can not hang my towels up or not make the bed or leave my dirty clothes in a pile on the floor and not feel guilty about it. Somehow, it feels awkward that the same people who know that I throw my dirty underwear on the floor or who change our sheets or who observe that my other half doesn't always have the best . . um . . aim, would be preparing and serving my food as well. Wouldn't want to risk pissing them off by not being perfect houseguests. Trying to be a perfect houseguest is notrelaxing. Vacation is being allowed to let my inner slob rule.

Anyhoo, my inner slob will be taking up residence at a lovely retro-ish motel with rooms that have small kitchens and private adjoining screen porches.

Crying while eating.

This is oddly funny. I'm not sure why, though.

toddler TV watching

Just wondering what people think about kids watching TV. . .

Daniel watches an hour plus in the morning, maybe a half an hour around lunch and then maybe another hour plus in the late afternoon evening. The shows he's currently into are The DoodleBops (ack), sometimes the Wiggles, sometimes JoJo's Circus, Blues Clues, sometimes Sesame Street or a Sesame Street DVD, a Baby Einstein DVD, sometimes Between the Lions. So, that's what his daily TV watching amounts to.

Is that a lot? How much do your kids watch? I have a good friend who doesn't let her daughter watch TV at all. She's not preachy about it and hardly mentions it, but I'm always comparing Daniel to her daughter and attributing his "spazziness", for lack of a better word, to his TV watching. I'm always feeling guilty about turning the TV on.

Yet, I need these breaks throughout the day.

I think I need more friends who let their kids watch TV.

This has been going around, but I came across it again most recently Chez Cranky Mommy and decided I needed to know what my world view is. I don't know about the Creative part, or the cultural either, for that matter. Hmm.

You scored as Cultural Creative. Cultural Creatives are probably the newest group to enter this realm. You are a modern thinker who tends to shy away from organized religion but still feels as if there is something greater than ourselves. You are very spiritual, even if you are not religious. Life has a meaning outside of the rational. Cultural Creative 94% Postmodernist 63% Romanticist 44% Idealist 38% Existentialist 38% Modernist 25% Fundamentalist 13% Materialist 0% What is Your World View? (updated) created with QuizFarm.com

Driving. 

Daniel's dream come true. A truck! In our front yard!! 

An important conversation. 

Wheelbarrow racing. 

Matching wheelbarrows! 

My parents are watching the TVGuide Channel. Seriously. Help me.

finally getting to it. . . .

tagged by the lovely Mel

1. Total volume of music files on my computer: None on my laptop.

2. The last CD I bought was: Garden State Soundtrack

3. Song playing right now: Kraft Buttermilk dressing jingle.

4. Five songs I listen to a lot or that mean a lot to me:

(you mean besides, "Big Red Car" and Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star?)

- "So Lonely" probably my favorite old Police song; love to sing it loudly in the car.
- "Unforgettable" by Natalie Cole; our song for the first dance of our wedding
- "Let Go" by Frou Frou from Garden State Soundtrack
- "New Sensation" by INXS -- oh those high school memories.
- "Wild Thing" by Tone Loc -- oh those college memories.

Which 5 people are you passing this baton to, and why?

First sign that my parents were home from their shopping trip . . .

a loud fart as the front door opened, heard by me as I sat on the couch in the den at the back of the house.

My parents are watching Laugh-*In.

Uncomfortable.

Watching a Cial*is commercial while sitting next to my father on a chair-and-a-half.

Power struggle.

As I'm getting some ice cream out of the freezer, my mother says to me from her seat across the room on the couch where she's watching TV, "You know what's good on vanilla ice cream?"

I hate these questions. "What?"

"Peanuts."

Peanuts? Peanuts? Not that I object to anybody putting peanuts on their ice cream. But our son, her grandson, has a peanut allergy, so we (sadly)don't eat peanuts around here. I don't get it. I just don't get it.

"What's your point?" I replied. "Do you like reminding us that Daniel has a peanut allergy?"

"I'm just making a comment," she says.

Then, I figured that she was suggesting having peanuts on my ice cream, in fact, because she wanted peanuts on her vanilla ice cream, which she eats every night at 9:20 p.m. She has a bad habit of expressing what she wants by suggesting that you should want it. If I said to her, "But I don't like peanuts on my ice cream." She'd say, "Oh. Why not?" As if it was unheard of that I or my dad or whomever might not enjoy the same thing that she does.

Or she'll use something going on in our life to complain about hers. Like this morning. We go to church on Sundays. We like our church. We enjoy going. Hey, we get a couple of free, child-free hours. Heh. Anyway, my parents go to church, but she's always bitching about theirs. Always, always, always bitching about theirs. It's not so much that she's complaining, really, it's how she does it. It's with a kind of scorn and bitterness that come from somewhere deep down in the core of her soul. Ranting about something, anything is really about her only form of communication. How sad this really is, is not lost on me either. But what can I do?

Anyway, this morning first thing, she picks up our church newsletter and after reading it for a couple of minutes, exclaims, "Ugh! It's Youth Sunday." Her voice full of disgust. Disgust.

Now, we didn't get much sleep last night and what we did get, was pierced by the frantic calls of a frightened 2-year-old. Not sure what was going on with him, except that maybe he was having bad dreams, possibly having to do with the fact that last time Granny & PopPop put him to bed without Mommy & Daddy (DH & I went out on a "date" last night and Granny & PopPop babysat), his whole world turned upside down. Mommy didn't come home for a few days and when she did, she had this baby that ate up lots of her attention and was always on her lap. And she was even more cranky. (Plus, we think he might have a sinus infection.)

So, after a very rough night, the last thing I wanted to hear was my mother bitching about going to church, etc. as I'm trying to get breakfast ready for everybody with a hungry, muddled, sleep-deprived brain. If you don't want to go, don't go, but keep your fuckin' vitriolic spews to yourself. Grrr. Well, as it turns out, she just wanted yet another opportunity to bitch about the Youth Sunday at their church which took place last week and how awful it was and how it used to be so much better.

But, get this, they had no intention of going to church with us anyway, even if it wasn't Youth Sunday. They didn't bring clothes for it. So, why does she even give a shit about what's going on at our church?! She was scanning the newsletter looking for evidence of the things she hates about her church so that she could rant about them. Make sense? Probably not. Welcome to my world.

So, back to the peanuts in the ice cream story. . .
She just fixed herself a bowl of ice cream a few minutes ago. Guess what she added to it? Yep, peanuts. They brought their own jar from home. I knew they brought their own, even though I told them that we didn't want people to eat peanuts around Daniel in our own house. Daniel isn't supersensitive to peanuts, so I'm not superstrict about what people eat around him, but since it's their grandson, I guess I figured that out of respect and concern, they wouldn't eat them / bring them, etc. and certainly, wouldn't go around extolling the yumminess of peanuts on vanilla ice cream.

As I'm writing this, I'm realizing how passive-aggressive this really is and kind of shocked that there are not some topics that are offlimits when it comes to this age-old war of the wills that we've had going on. Don't get me wrong, though -- I don't think she even realizes what she's doing or how it's coming across.

She just wanted peanuts on her ice cream.

*sigh*

Yesterday was such a good day with the babe and the toddler. The babe took an hour nap in the morning, so I could spend some one-on-one time with the toddler. The toddler was even happy to play on his own a little bit and so I was able to get some stuff done around the house.

Then, in the afternoon, we went to a new park that was recommended to us. It was the holy grail of parks. Truly. It's totally fenced in. And all the play equipment is for little guys (not that Daniel is ever really interested in the play equipment anyway) so I don't have to be super-vigilant about him falling or something. There were other moms there, even moms with the toddler/infant combo. Adult conversation! Yippee!

Daniel did his usual thing of checking the perimeter looking for places to get out, but there were none! One side of the park is a preschool building, and of course, he had to check out all the air conditioning units on the side of the building. But he also played with some of the kids -- a set of 20 month old twin boys. He and one of the twins had a good time chasing each other. Then, Daniel hung out with a four year old for a little while -- they each thought the other was funny. And then a little girl about the same age as he -- they played in the playhouse that's there.

And, you know, we made it out of there without a tantrum.

Unlike today.

Went to a local McD's that has one of those outdoor playareas. He wasn't that interested in the play equipment, just the puddles of water that accumulated on them. It had an enclosed spiral staircase that went up to a playhouse and a car and a tractor, all safely enclosed, but Daniel was a bit freaked out by the staircase to get up to them. That was probably OK, because I was little worried that he'd get up there and freak out and I wouldn't be able to get to him because (1) I'm almost 6 feet tall and probably wouldn't really fit in the staircase and (2) I was wearing the baby in the Snugli.

But then, Daniel spotted a small toy firetruck that was behind the gated area around the play equipment. It had obviously been dropped from above and couldn't be retrieved. Daniel could not understand why Mommy couldn't get it for him, and he really couldn't understand when we had to leave it behind and go get in our car. He realized all this when we were in the middle of the parking lot halfway to the car. At that point, he refused to walk any further, sat down and then laid down in middle of the parking lot, crying. Nothing I enjoy more than carrying a screaming toddler to the car.

*sigh* (get used to this -- Dave & Dottie arrive tomorrow in the late afternoon and are staying until next Thursday, yep, that's six nights and five+ days)

as I was saying, *sigh*

I'm stressed out about their visit and they are not even here yet. I think it's time to up the Zol*oft dose again. Or drink heavily. Starting, um, now.

Fixing the faucet.

Fixing the faucet.
Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

This is what I saw when I came downstairs after getting Baby A. A future plumber, maybe? He's even been working on the plumber's crack thing. lol. He was saying "Helping. Wash-wash."

Up on the shelf above the sink is a bottle of Windex. This is the same bottle of Windex that he sprayed in his mouth this afternoon when he got up there again while I was upstairs cleaning up a baby diaper blowout. This resulted in our first call to Poison Control. (He's fine. And his teeth are really shiny.)

A warning.

There will be much wailing and gnashing of teeth around here next week, or maybe bitching and gritting of teeth would be a better way to put it. Dottie & Dave are coming to visit. Why does this always seem like a good idea? It's like I have amnesia or something. Three or four months after each visit, I start to think, hmmm, I wish my parents would come and visit. Crazy, I tell you.

Anyway, they'll have fun, yeah fun, heh, with Daniel. Maybe he can save up a big tantrum just for them. Just kidding. I hope he's on his best behavior, because if he's not, we'll have to hear all of Dottie's theories about what we shouldbe doing but aren't. This usually involves quotes like, "letting him know who's boss." Um, he's 2. This is how 2-year-olds act. Their prime aim is to drive you to the brink of insanity by finding the 5 things that annoy you most in the world and then doing them over and over and over and over and laugh when you tell them not to or put them in time-out for not listening.

Unfortunately, I haven't figured out the best strategy for having conversations with my mom about much of anything, oops, I mean, about parenting. If I respond to her comments, she'll argue with me until the cows come home or take it as indictment of her parenting skills (which it kind of is). If I try to ignore her comments, she'll still keep going on and on, and then my head will explode. Yes, it will spontaneously combust. Into many, tiny pieces. It's not pretty.

Which brings me to the things I'm sure that I will hear about with respect to baby no. 2, the sweetest, squishiest baby that has ever lived. I'm sure she'll make comments about him being "fat." She's totally hung up on people being fat. Yes, even 4.5 month old babies. It's crazy because I don't think she ever exercised a day in her life until she had emergency heart valve replacement, followed by the post-heart-surgery-weight-loss plan. I think I've mentioned before how she harrasses my Dad about his weight, even though he's lost 40-some pounds and exercises almost every day. Anyway, God help me (or her, maybe) if she makes comments about Andrew being "fat." I think she blames it on breast-feeding, too. Ah, that breastfeeding, it's definitely the cause of the weight problems in children in this country. Whatever.

We are just starting solids with Andrew which he isn't really taking to. I'm in no real hurry. I mean, I'd like him to get started eating solid food because I'm not sure how much longer I can sustain an 18 pound baby on milk alone. Geeesh, you'd think I'd be losing a lot of weight, too. Alas, that is not the case. But, if he's not ready, he's not ready. We've got time. For moms who boasted about giving us orange juice at two weeks of age or whatever they were doing when we were coming along, not eating solids until 4-6 months is unheard of.

*sigh*

I'm not always 100% sure that some of the current parenting trends are the absolute right and only way to raise well-adjusted kids, but I know what works for us and I know what didn't work for me as a child, so there's not a whole lot of parenting advice I'll take from Granny D, at least not the unsolicited kind.

But I do look forward to seeing them enjoy their grandchildren, and they do. Dottie will enjoy holding the baby. Daniel can be really cute and he has a great time with his PopPop. I think I just need to get an I-Pod to drown out the free "advice".

And hopefully, we'll score a date night out of their visit, too.

Bye, bye Chappelle Show. :(

I'm bummed about the Chappelle Show. We loved that show. Hope he can sort things out. I think it would be hard to be in the position of being paid $50 million to be funny. That's a lot of funny. Being the perfectionist that I am, I'd be totally paralyzed, too.

A point of clarification.

I wanted to clarify from yesterday's post that I did not mean to imply that Grandma is not well taken care of because she has sons. She's been well taken care of by my uncle and his wife. My aunt is like a daughter to her. They are wonderful people. And my Grandma has lots of health issues requiring constant nursing care that her sister doesn't. I just think it probably is a little different having your sons take care of you than daughters. Just like, I think it's different when your daughter has a baby as opposed to when your daughter-in-law has a baby. It's just different.

Num. Num. Num.

Toesies.
Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

Touch.

Touch.
Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

Grandma meets her 4th great-grandchild.

Grandma meets her 4th great-grandchild.
Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

We went to visit my Grandmother today. She's 92 years old and just went into a nursing home from living on her own in an apartment. I've felt very guilty about not getting up to see her sooner because she only lives about and hour and a half away. But I'm glad we got to see her and she was thrilled to see baby A. She's not doing well physically, but is sharp as a tack. She doesn't really like the nursing home -- who would? and says that moving there has been the hardest thing that she's done in her entire life. In her entire life.

We just really don't treat the elderly in our society right. She's lived 92 years, has a huge wealth of wisdom and experience, and is ending up her life sharing a hospital-like room with someone else. I'm not saying that we will do anything different with our parents either, but it's sad.

Grandma was talking about how her 91 year old sister is still driving and living in her 4 bedroom house. But she (the sister) has 3 daughters and one daughter-in-law who's like another daughter to look out for her. Grandma had two sons. You see where I'm going with this. . . maybe we do need to have more kids. I need me some daughters to take care of me when I'm old.

Ambivalence.

A funny thing about me. I don't like talking about myself. I used to spend most of the time in a conversation volleying to keep the other person talking so that I wouldn't have to think of something to say about myself. Consequently, I attracted people who like to talk about themselves a little toomuch. Then, when I actually had some crisis and needed to talk, they were like, Oh, she talks; I didn't sign on for this supportive listener stuff. This tended to just reinforce my perception that I don't have anything interesting to say.

One thing that I've been frustrated to discover is that sometimes, your insecurities follow you even into the "virtual" world of the internet. Maybe I shouldn't talk about that. . . So-in-so might not like that and stop coming by. Oops, if I say that, I might offend someone. I can't share that because people might think I'm weird / a dork / boring / whiny. Is what I say cool or witty enough? Same old, same old. I can't believe that the "in" crowd continues to stop by. :D

Anyway, this kind of makes blogging a challenge. I like blogging, or the idea of blogging. DH says it's a good "outlet". If it wasn't for the totally cool people that I've met in the blogging world, I'd probably give it up. DH likes to read my dribble and if it helps him to understand where I'm coming from more, then that's good, but not necessarily a reason to keep it up.

Sometimes, I think that if it's community I'm looking for, maybe I should work harder at developing my IRL friendships than composing blog posts. Oops, hope I didn't offend anybody by saying that -- there's nothing wrong with enjoying blogging and the blogging community. See, there I go again.

Do you think about these things, too?

Wanted: Red Sox toddler clothing.

Our Tar*get has all this Braves clothing for toddlers, even cute little shirts for girls with the Braves logo in pink. Where's the Red Sox stuff?!

Legal update.

So my husband thinks I'm a delinquent because I've been following the Michael Jackson trial. Being a (former) lawyer, I'm a sucker for trials and stuff like this. I like hearing about the ins and outs and legal wranglings and also watching how Court TV does its best to make them so much more exciting than they really are. This trial happens to be pretty salacious, as it is, though, no matter whether he's guilty or not. He's definitely been shown by a proponderance of the evidence to be a freak.

Anyway, today was a big day in the trial and I can't believe the tactics that some lawyers will use. The defense put Jackson's "former" defense attorney Mark Geragos on the stand to testify about a very specific set of dates in the timeline. I think his testimony was mostly going to the conspiracy charge and to Jackson's character. (I'd like to know the details of his "fee" arrangement after his "firing.") At the start of his testimony, Geragos says that he cannot testify to any of the questions because he doesn't have a written waiver of the attorney-client privilege from Jackson. Mesereau, Jackson's current attorney, jumps in and assures him that they'll get that to him at the break, and proceeds with his questions, all of which of course, let Geragos say many wonderful things about Mr. Freaky.

After Mesereau finishes the direct, the prosecution begins to question Geragos about whatever. Geragos, then, says that he can't answer them because it exceeds the "limited" waiver of the attorney-client privilege that Jackson gave him. The judge is then furious and sends the jury out, saying that they misrepresented the terms of the privilege. In other words, the defense in no way indicated that the privilege was limited until it was time for a cross, a dirty way to get in exactly what they wanted.

So, it may even end up in a mistrial. Dirty tricks. And so ballsy. Not very ethical, either, but it's kind of in that gray area.

And now back to our regularly scheduled programming . . .

These things are giving away all my secrets.

You Are 50% Normal (Somewhat Normal)

While some of your behavior is quite normal... Other things you do are downright strange You've got a little of your freak going on But you mostly keep your weirdness to yourself

How Normal Are You?

Where's the sangria?

from Jana

Your Inner European is Spanish!

Energetic and lively. You bring the party with you!

Who's Your Inner European?

Oh, alrighty. It's my turn, now.

courtesy of Jennie

Pick five of the following and then
complete the sentences. Then pass
this little meme on to three more
of your blog friends… no tag backs!

If I could be a scientist…
If I could be a farmer…
If I could be a musician…
If I could be a doctor…
If I could be a painter…
If I could be a gardener…
If I could be a missionary…
If I could be a chef…
If I could be an architect…
If I could be a linguist…
If I could be a psychologist…
If I could be a librarian…
If I could be an athlete…
If I could be a lawyer…
If I could be an inn-keeper…
If I could be a professor…
If I could be a writer…
If I could be a llama-rider…
If I could be a bonnie pirate…
If I could be an astronaut…
If I could be a world famous
blogger…
If I could be a justice on any
one court in the world…
If I could be married to any
current famous political figure…


If I could be a chef, I would own a little restaurant in a small town in the southern part of France. One unobtrusively tucked away with a few tables inside and a few in an outside courtyard.

If I could be a gardener, I learn how to landscape English gardens, and I'd grow lots of veggies.

If I could be a painter, I'd paint large, whimsical, textured, colorful pieces that would show in the Tate Modern.

If I could be a bonnie pirate, I'd sail around the Caribbean, drinking me some rum with a parrot on my shoulder.

If I could be an architect, I'd design houses.

Ok, sorry, these answers aren't too exciting. Now, who to tag? How about Jana, Christi, and Susie.

Hop to it, ladies! :D

Yesterday we spent all day at home. It was a park day for playgroup no. 1. Parks are not a good idea for us these days, so we skipped this week. Mommy was going a little stir crazy though, so we got out early this morning and went to the mall play area. The mall play area rocks because it's enclosed and there's usually lots of other little guys there running around. We go there right before 10:00 and were the first ones there, but soon there were more. Daniel had a good time running around, climbing on the play equipment and screeching his toddler language at other little toddlers who sometimes screeched back and sometimes ran away crying. Not sure why.

After a while Daniel started wanted to escape which usually means he's ready to leave and such was the case this time. I put him in the stroller and supplied him with some goldfish and off we went. Mommy got to do a little shopping even! I got a pair of sandals for myself and a pair for him since he's already outgrown the ones I got him last month. The baby slept in the Snugli for most of the time.

Daniel crashed out hard for his nap from all the activity and socializing. A good day in toddlerdom.

Tomorrow, we have playgroup no. 2. This is the park-loving playgroup that I've seriously been considering dropping out of completely because of their obsession (not really) with meeting at parks, but it's being held at someone's house tomorrow, so I think we'll make it. A fenced-in backyard and a couple of other toddlers to screech at = playgroup heaven.

At the lake.

Daniel didn't read the sign, apparently.

Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

Cake or green beans?

I bought this book recently in order to stave off those restless late afternoons when I just can't read the Big Truck Book one more time. This afternoon, we made the dump cake. So, it started out like this:

Me: "We're going to go downstairs and make a cake!"

D: "Birthday cake? Birthday party!"

Me: No. Just a regular cake, but we are going to make it!

D: Birthday cake? (downstairs now, looking for the birthday cake.)

Me: No. We are going to make a cake!

D: ????? Where's the cake?

I get out the ingredients and put them on Daniel's little table.

First step: pour can of pineapple juice in bottom of greased pan.

I give D a spoon and show him how to use the spoon to put some of the pineapple in the pan.

D grabs the spoon and gets a big spoonful of the pineapple and proceeds to eat it.
D: Cake?
Me: No. We are making a cake. Then, we'll put it in the oven to bake.

OK, guess I'll just do this part.

Next, the can of cherry pie filling. I'll just scoop this out, too. D takes his spoon and scoops out a big old glob of filling, putting it right into (or near) his mouth. OK, I think, he can have that, no big deal. Except . . . he apparently doesn't like cherries in cherry pie filling, so he spits it back out. I catch it before he spits it back into the pan.

Last part: dump yellow cake mix over the cherry pie filling. I put some in a cup for D to pour in the pan. He does it! Hey, he's getting the hang of it. Another cupful, in the same place as the first.

Me: D, put some over here. (as he dumps another cupful in the same place.)

Me: No, over here. (in the same place.)

Me: Here, over here. (dumps it into my lap.)

Me: grumble, grumble, grumble.

OK, last part. I cut the butter up on top.

Me: OK, we are putting it the oven now to cook. But you can't touch the oven. It's very hot, OK? Very hot?

D: ????

I put the cake in the oven.
D: Cake? Cake?! Cake!!! (shocked that we are not eating the cake, but putting it out of reach in the hot. hot. oven)

Me: No. We have to bake it. It's baking in the oven.

D: (crying) cake.

Me: We'll have some soon.

45 minutes later.

Me: The cake is ready!

I scoop out some "cake" and cool it off for him.

D: Cake! Cake! (getting in his seat at the table.)

He looks at it, puzzled. It doesn't really look like any kind of cake as he knows it. He fiddles with it for a few minutes, touches it to his tongue, then puts his spoon in the bowl, and pushes it away from him.

D: Want green beans.

Is Daniel a ninny, too?

I had parent-duty at parents-morning-out today which means I got to spend the morning not only with my toddler, but with three others for three hours in a small room. Plus, the baby who didn't want to eat because he was too excited about watching the big kids play. It's pretty cute though. No wonder the second children tend to do things earlier -- they love to watch everything the older ones do. You can almost see Andrew straining to get up and run after Daniel.

The paid person for parents-morning-out is an au pair from Brazil. She's very nice and friendly and good with the kids. Every Friday, she tries to do a craft with them. The first Friday that I had parent-duty last fall, I must have looked at her like she was crazy when she started pulling out the paint. Paint?! What?! Don't you know that two-year-olds are just going to drink it and smear it all. over. everything?! Well, it turns out that some of them actually sit and participate in craft time. She ends up doing a lot of it, but they are pretty good about sitting there. Painting, in fact, goes pretty well most times.

There is one child, however, that none of this crafting activity has caught on with. And that's my child. How can I sit down and do crafts when there are all these trucks and cars and trains and tractors to find in the toy bins? What are they thinking? I was asking her (the au pair) about Daniel's non-participation today. She didn't want to come right out and say anything, but as we talked she started telling me about her brother-in-law who was "hyper" and always talked about the difficulties he had sitting still and paying attention in school.

Anyway, I don't know if Daniel is "hyper" or not, but it will be interesting to see how he does in preschool which he starts two mornings a week this fall. It wouldn't really surprise me too much though if he does have ADD tendencies, as I've been recently found to have some ADD. J just refers to it as me being a ninny -- losing stuff, forgetting stuff, not being able to prioritize or organize, etc. Don't worry though, we aren't going to run out and put him on ritalin* or anything like that. It's just one of those things that you notice about your child and wonder about.

*not that there's anything wrong with that if that's what has been determined to aid your child.

It seems that the runaway bride of last week has spawned a whole cottage industry of memorabilia on ebay.

The runaway bride toast

The runaway brideroad trip scrapbook

The runaway bride peanut

JENNIFER WILBANKS CRAZY EYED RUNAWAY BRIDE COFFEE CUP

There's also a grilled cheese, a child's drawing explaining the runaway bride, a chicken nugget, greasy rag. It seems that her likeness has also been found on a fortune cookie, a pair of levis, a seashell, some panyhose. She's giving the Virgin Mary a run for the money.

Act fast. Supplies are limited. :D

Awwwwww.

Baby A was coughing pretty hard in the car today as we were doing errands. He and I are still deep in the throes of this cold. Daniel was quiet for a minute and then said, "Bless you, baby Andrew."

Happy Cinco de Mayo!

Mmmmm, margaritas. Or margarita, rather. I've got the cold, so the smallest amount of tequila is going to knock me out. But it tastes so gooood.

I'm a blog techie. Heh.

I added a link to make the blog accessible to feed readers beyond those that can see Atom. (See the feedburner icon on the sidebar.) I'm trying to figure out which feed reader to use. I use Firefox Thunderbird which offers an RSS reader and then there's Pluck and then there's Lektora. Do you use a feed reader? Which one do you like?

Toddler hot spots.

As usual, the toddler is trying my patience at every turn. I realized yesterday that there's one point at which I get frazzled almost every morning. After getting everybody dressed, fed breakfast, and after I get some breakfast, probably feeding baby A at some point during all this, and then trying to do some cleaning up of the breakfast mess, I'm ready to sit down for a few minutes and sip some coffee or whatever. Usually, by then, the toddler is happily playing, throwing his cars off the bench in the kitchen or whatever. But this is also the time that he usually does his business, if you know what I mean. So, just as I'm getting ready to relax and enjoy some coffee and recharge the batteries, it's either endure the smell for a few minutes until my "break" is over, but then it's not really a break because you spend it dreading the impending diaper change/wrestling match or go ahead and change it. I usually change it, but this takes the toddler away from whatever activity has been holding his attention for the last little bit of time. And then he wants my attention or the baby needs to be fed again or whatever. There goes my "break." Damn poopy diaper.

Toddlers make so much mess, too. He likes to shove all his toys off this bench that he puts them on in our kitchen. He shoves them onto the floor and then leaves them there. He likes picking random stuff up and just dropping it on the floor. I can get him to pick some stuff up now. This morning, I gave him a little cup with rice puffs and raisins. It was his snack and I was congratulating myself for getting it to him before he started letting me know he was hungry by whining and clingy, but not otherwise SAYING that he was hungry. What did he do? He turned the cup upside on the carpet (on purpose) and then proceeded to come to me upset because it was all over the floor. I can barely clean up my own messes and quite often do not, much less keep up with everyone elses's messes. Everytime you turn around, there's something else to clean up. And it's not like this was an accident either. We have an ant problem in our house, and right now they are turning up everywhere. I think that even if our house was spotless, we'd still have ants, but they are just unrelenting right now if you leave any little speck of food around.

I know I complain a lot about Daniel and at two, he's like a lightning rod for any frustrations I might have in my life whether they are related to his behavior or not. If you are angry or frustrated about something else in your life and here's the toddler whining or throwing a tantrum, it's hard not to take it out on him. It feels like a vicious cycle, too because I'm sure by me getting so angry at him, he's acting out even more. I feel so guilty and get down on myself, which makes me short-tempered and the cycle starts all over again. Hence, the zol*olft.

Anyway, there are some really nice things about Daniel's age. Yesterday, he hugged the little 8-year-old neighbor girl who likes to play with him and said, "I yuv you." It was cute. He'll pat me on the head and say, "It's OK, Mommy." He's into hugs and kisses lately. He's quite the little mimic, too, which is really funny at times. He likes swinging. He likes dancing to music. He loves playing with his matchbox cars and will lay in his crib playing with them. He even sleeps with one in each hand tucked up under him. Forget the stuffed animals. If it has wheels, then it's a treasure. He loves pointing out all the different vehicles he sees when we're riding around in the car. "Cement mixer." "Firetruck." "Pick-up truck." "Mini-cooper." (he's not always right about that one, but it's still funny.)

I know that one day we'll probably be wishing for this time when they are really little. If I could just step back and enjoy some of it, that would be a good thing.

Jumbo-baby needs a new car seat.

Yep, that's right. Baby A had his 4 month check-up today, complete with four shots in the sweet, squishy thighs. Poor thing. He cried harder and longer this time. We've got four again in two months. :( Anyway, he's growing like crazy. I think he might have just gone through another growth spurt because several days ago he was wanting to eat and eat and eat. I was like, but you don't need to grow anymore right now. He begged to differ. So, at four months, he weighs 17.5 pounds and is 27+ inches long. Alas, we have to retire the baby bucket.

And a question, for those of you who have bigger babies, what do you use to carry them in? I have a Bjorn, but he's really getting to big for it. I just bought a Snugli. Haven't decided to keep it yet or not. I bought a fancy sling before he was born, but we never really got used to it. Maybe I should try it again, though.

Update on my appt today.

Will be bumping up the Zo*loft. And will also be taking it in the morning rather than at night. Seems it's more effective that way. Who knew?

My bad.

OK, I realized later on that I probably shouldn't have made the comment about how easy it is with one child. Many of you have only one child and I'm sure don't find it so easy. I know I didn't. But yet, we went ahead and added another one anyway. Silly us. We won't give him back though. He's the sweetest, smiliest, squishiest baby ever. And he has his 4-month check-up tomorrow. I can't remember if he'll get shots or not, but I'm hoping not. Once again, everybody in my house is sick, but me. D spiked a fever last week and then developed a nasty cough which I now think might be allergy-related. Baby A seems to have the cold, too, with some sneezing & sniffling. J is feeling like crap today and went to bed at 10:30 which hardly ever happens. Not to mention that he got tons of sleep this past weekend. "Tons" meaning sleeping in until 8:30 a.m. and catching a long nap with the baby. So, Baby A will get checked out tomorrow along with the Toddler.

Anyway, so as I was saying, even just having one child is not an easy task. And I never meant to imply that. Of course, last night, the same night that I was writing about my bout with post*partum*depression, I left a comment on someone's blog in response to her worries about the impending birth of her 2nd child. She also has a two-year-old and is feeling guilty about not giving the 2-year-old as much attention as she used because she's so far along in her pregnancy. If she clicked on my blog, I'm sure it wasn't much consolation that I'm giving her encouragement at the same time I'm talking about ppd. Heh. Oh well. I meant well.

Now, about that not wanting to give the baby back. . . that still stands. We might be willing to give up the two-year-old though.

Behold the light!

Originally uploaded by Suze3000.

One of the things that sold me on our house is the light it gets. In the morning, the sunlight floods the back of the house where the kitchen is and our bedroom. In the afternoon, it hits the front side and comes pouring in a large cathedral window over the front door. These azaleas are right outside the front door and were particularly spectacular in the afternoon light.

This is so dead-on, I had to snag it! Ah, the memories.

YOU WERE A LITTLE GIRL IN THE 70'S IF.......

(snagged from another blog)

1. You wore a rainbow shirt that was half-sleeves, and the rainbow went up one sleeve, across your chest, and down the other.

2. You made baby chocolate cakes in your Easy Bake Oven and washed them down with snow cones from your Snoopy Snow Cone Machine.

3. You had that Fisher Price Doctor's Kit with a stethoscope that actually worked.

4. You owned a bicycle with a banana seat and a plastic basket with flowers on it.

5. You learned to skate with actual skates (not roller blades) that had metal wheels.

6. You thought Gopher from Love Boat was cute (admit it!)

7. You had nightmares after watching Fantasy Island.

8. You had rubber boots for rainy days and Moon boots for snowy days.

9. You had either a "bowl cut" or! "pixie," not to mention the "Dorothy Hamil" because your Mom was sick of braiding your hair.

10.People sometimes thought you were a boy.

11. Your Holly Hobbie sleeping bag was your most prized possession.

12. You wore a poncho, gauchos, and knickers.

13. You begged Santa for the electronic game, Simon.

14. You had the Donnie and Marie dolls with those pink and purple satiny shredded outfits.

15. You spent hours in your backyard on your metal swing set with the trapeze.

16. The swing set tipped over at least once.

17. You had homemade ribbon barrettes in every imaginable color.

18. You had a pair of Doctor Scholl's sandals (the ones with hard sole & the buckle). You also had a pair of salt-water sandals. .

19. You wanted to be Laura Ingalls Wilder really bad; you wore that Little House on the Prairie-inspired plaid, ruffle shirt with the high neck in at least one school picture, and you despised Nellie Olsen!

20. You wanted your first kiss to be at a roller rink.

21. Your hairstyle was described as having "wings" or "feathers" and you kept it "pretty" with the comb you kept in your back pocket.

22. You know who Strawberry Shortcake is, as well as her friends, Blueberry Muffin and Huckleberry Pie.

23. You carried a Muppets lunch box to school and it was metal, not plastic.

24. You and your girlfriends would fight over which of the Dukes of Hazard was your boyfriend,(and you wanted your first car to be a jeep just like Daisy's?!)

25. Every now and then "It's a Hard Knock Life" from the movie, "Annie" will pop into your brain and you can't stop singing it the whole day. Darn you!

26. YOU had Star Wars action figures, too!

27. It was a big event in your household each year when the "Wizard of Oz" would come on TV. Your mom would break out the popcorn and sleeping bags!

28. You often asked your Magic-8 ball the question: "Who will I marry. Shaun Cassidy, Leif Garrett, or Rick Springfield?"

29. You completely wore out your Grease, Saturday Night Fever albums (didn't you ever want to be a Pink Lady?).

30. You tried to do lots of arts and crafts, like yarn and Popsicle-stick,decoupage, or those weird potholders made on a plastic loom - I believe they were called "loom loopers"

31. You made Shrinky-Dinks and put iron-on kittens on your t-shirts!

32. You used to tape record songs off the radio by holding your portable tape player up to the speaker.

33. You couldn't wait to get the free animal poster that came when you ordered books from the Weekly Reader book club. Double score if it was a teddy bear dressed in clothing.

34.You learned everything you needed to know about girl issues from Judy Blume books.

35. You thought Olivia Newton John's song "Physical" was about aerobics.

36. You wore friendship pins on your tennis shoes, or shoelaces with heart or rainbow designs.

37. You wanted to be a Solid Gold dancer.

38. You had a Big Wheel with a brake on the side, and a Sit-n-Spin.

39. You had subscriptions to Dynamite and Tiger Beat (and have every poster room every magazine on your wall). You spent all your allowance on smurfs and stickers for your sticker album!

Spa day, coming soon!

My chapter of thiswomen's organization that I recently became a member of (OK, stop snickering -- you know who you are) threw me a belated baby shower yesterday. Instead of baby stuff, it was a "pamper mom" shower. I did get a couple of baby things, but I also got a $200 gift certificate to a local spa. Score! I'm trying to decide what I want to get done. I need a pedicure. I've had a facial there before which was really nice, so I'll probably do that, plus an eyebrow waxing. A massage? Probably not. They do give lessons in make-up application though which is something I've always wanted to do, so I may do that.

What would you do with $200 at your favorite spa/salon?

I have an appointment with a ppd specialist tomorrow. Kind of nervous. I'm never very good at these intial meetings where you have to summarize your life. Anyway, I hope it goes well. I'm currently taking a low level of Zol*oft and I'm hoping that perhaps increasing my dose will be enough to take the edge off. I got nervous about taking it when it was in the news related to a couple of court cases where criminal defendants claimed that the Zol*oft was the reason for their actions. I have enough irritability and my fuse is so short -- I wouldn't want to add to that at all. I'm all for being dissuaded of the idea that Zoloft is exacerbating my negative moods though. I hate trying new meds and wondering how they are going to effect me. Stupid trial and error. Plus, Z*oloft is safe with breast-feeding where most others are not. It might be nice to wean right now, but I don't really want to. Besides, Andrew has been so attached to the bo*ob the last couple of days. It's as if he knows that it's been suggested that perhaps the bo*ob might disappear. Heh. Please wish me luck.

Why is it that it's only after you have a second child that you realize that it's pretty easy with just one. J took baby A to church with him this morning. I stayed home with the toddler who's sick again with some undefined upper respiratory affliction. I got so much done around the house, and managed to get some good quality time in with D. It was nice.