hot wheels

Well, we now are parents to the COOLEST toddler on the block because he is the proud owner of a smokin' hot candy-apple red Schwinn Roadster trike. And, I must admit, she's a beauty. I wish I had one, third wheel included.

Santa came early because we are leaving tomorrow to spend the next couple of weeks in Louisiana with family and friends -- BUT, fear not...the bike will have a cozy place in the back of our Subaru because Eli will not let us leave home without it. I think he wanted to take it to bed tonight.

I don't know when I'll pop back in, so I'll wish all of you a peaceful and enjoyable holiday right now. But, I'll be back with various and sundry reflections on the season that makes us all wish our jeans had velcro instead of zippers.

Merry Christmas to all, and check out the kid on his trike. Lots more photos on Flickr, too!

talks of santa

the kid is funny

we're two for two!

This'll be a quick post, but I just wanted to share the photo we had taken this afternoon during our trip to Market Street to see Santa. We didn't think it was going to happen this year because he is very wary of Santa (or 'Tee-Ta' as he calls him), but, lo and behold, the boy came through for us. We did have to take about 5 shots right beside him before we could jump out of the frame to get one of just him. But, seriously, I think Santa is now A-OK in Eli's world. That is, as long as he comes through with that bike for Christmas.

And, just fyi, this is not my photo. We were able to purchase the digital file taken by Santa's helpers (heh). How nice of them to share, huh?;-)

Hope everyone had a great weekend. Videos coming soon...

wheels of fortune

So, last night was a wild one. And, I wish I could say it involved, perhaps, over-imbibing or an impromptu trip to Vegas or, gosh, you know it's bad when you can't even think of anymore examples of a 'wild night.' Help me out here. Anyway, yes, it was wild, and it involved two mostly exhausted adults and one small, but restless toddler sandwiched between them -- all in a not-so-large queen-sized bed. Wild, I tell you. So wild that I will have to give you the abridged version because I am tired from last night and I want to go to sleep. But I want to write. So here's where I usually say 'screw it' and sell out for sleep, which explains the recent blog drought.

I digress. Which is another reason I don't write more blogs. Because instead of getting right to the point, I drone on about what I am about to write about, like I'm doing now. So, about last night...

Eli woke up before we even went to bed. It really sucks when that happens, you know, because we usually put him down 8ish (which involves the ritualistic storytime, songs, soothing, and all of us usually dozing off in the bed together), then we wake ourselves up so we can have like an hour of togetherness to remind ourselves that we still exist, which is sometimes followed up by having a drink (or two) to forget that we exist, or at least that all the annoyances of the day do. And, then, you guessed it...then, we are ready to sing ourselves a song and put our tired asses to bed. So, you can imagine how much it sucks when this ritual is interrupted (no, derailed) by a child waking after he has already been sent to that wonderful mattress behind bars we call dreamland. Yeah, well, it does suck, okay. But only really initially and then finally, if that makes any sense. The in-between part tricks you into thinking it will be okay. The beginning sucks because you're like, crap, I was just about to go to sleep, but then you get over it and you think, okay, they're only young once, and it is really sweet to snuggle and spoon and to watch their little nostrils flare as they breathe in and out, content to know that you are holding them and that they are warm and safe in YOUR bed. And it really is sweet, and you even go so far as to think, gosh, we should do this every night, at least until we have another kid. And you snuggle closer and press your cheek against theirs and bury your nose in their neck. And, then, just as you are about to doze off with a huge smle on your face (your husband is already sleeping, no, snoring, by the way, and has been since two seconds after your plopped the kid in between the two of you)...THEN, THEN, the kid starts to thrash about (eyes closed and, sort of still sleeping, which is, I'll admit, slightly bizarre and a bit demonic-looking), rolling from side to side, banishing you and your already-snoring husband to the far-right and far-left kingdoms of the bed, while marking his territory with limbs outstretched farther than you thought they could go (after all, he IS only two and not even supposed to be THAT long). And then he goes through the entire routine again, this time, adding a couple of headstands and a side kick to the ribs (yours, not his), and somewhere in the middle of all the thrashing, he gets tired, and falls back asleep. Oh, and then you realize you have to pee.

:::

We had another showing of the house today. Well, let me back up...we were supposed to have another showing, so we busted tuchis to make sure the house was all shiny and freakin' sparkly, and then we don't even think they showed. Yeah. We were really happy 'bout that one.

So, all we wanted to do was sit on our aforementioned busted tuchises (?) and watch some mindless TV, but, oh, that's right, we downgraded to basic cable yesterday so we could save money to buy our damn dream house in Maryland, and the sleezy cable guy left us with 12 channels of nothing but purely frustrating FUZZBALLS -- except for the channel that broadcasts Wheel of Fortune at precisely the time when we were feeling defeated and just wanted to wallow in our defeatedness while lying on our backs and watching some TV. So, we did it anyway, and this is how the conversation went (with Eli, on the floor, lying on his back in between us, staring at the ceiling, without a doo-waa-diddy-diddy-dum-diddy-du care in the world):

Shaun: I can't believe Pat has done this show for so long.
Me: Yeah, no kidding.
Shaun: And, Vanna. What a loser. All she does is turn letters.
Me: Ha, ha (while secretly thinking that maybe I would still be turning letters too if I was a smokin'-hot 50-something).

*We stopped talking to try to solve some puzzles, most of which were lame, of course, except for the 'Before and Afters,' which I am quite amused by and quite enjoy for some odd reason. (And I would make some silly one up as an example here if I could think of one, but I just can't because I'm brainless after 9 pm.) Then, someone asks for a "T," which is, like, only the MOST POPULAR LETTER EVER on WOF, and, GASP, there is no "T," to which Pat responds, "No 'T', wow." You could tell he was shocked.

Me: Remember when the contestants got to go shopping at the end of each round? You know, with their heads swirling around in little bubbles all over the showroom floor?
Shaun: Yeah, and they would say, 'I'd like the life-size porcelain dalmation for $500, Pat.
Me: Yeah, exactly.


I think cancelling the cable was a bad idea.

peace offerings

Well, I won't apologize. Things have been goddamn busy in these here parts. We have offered on a wonderful, completely re-habbed historic home in Maryland, but the catch is that we have to sell our house here is Texas. And what fun that has been so far for the near 4 weeks it has been listed. I love to clean house, all the damn day. It's a lot of fun and makes me think that instead of using extra money on a pedicure or, say, five bottles of Mad Housewife Merlot, or perhaps even a holiday prescription of Prozac -- I want to pay for a housekeeper. And you know you want to do the same.

As a token of my appreciation for staying with me and checking a near-nonexistent blog for the past couple of months, I give you my absolute favorite soup recipe (besides my beloved crab and corn soup recipe, of course). It's not MY recipe, but it's from one of the funniest women on the internet -- at least I think so. I linked the recipe so you can read her hilarious commentary on preapring this soup. Oh, and just a word to the wise, if you use a really sharp knife, the squash peeling goes MUCH faster, and wielding such a sharp object will make you feel more in control than you have since the holiday season began. Trust me on this. Also, for maximum creaminess, you MUST use butternut squash. Trust me on this, too.

Also, as soon as I can get organized (which, trust me, is no small feat), I will be running a contest here for you to win a couple of printable photo albums, compliments of HP! I recently participated in a photography project for mom-bloggers through HP. My interview is on their site, along with some of my fave photos, if you want to check it out. Go to the 'My Interview is Here' link in my sidebar.

Lastly, what kind of peace-offering post would this be without pictures of the kid. So, here he is, ready for a stroll a couple of weeks ago. And we haven't had need for a coat or hat since. So, it's not beginning to feel a bit like Christmas here. But that's okay.







What can I say but that the kid LOVES balls. And, he got his first 'real' haircut about a month ago, even though you can't see it here. I will try to post photos of that soon. He is a 'real' boy now. No more curls. After much intraspection, I am okay about it. Ha.

More fun facts about what in the world we've been doing over the past couple of months coming soon, I promise. In the meantime, go make a squash soup and email me to tell me about it, okay?

oh, my

Has it really been this long since I blogged? I promise, I'm comin' back with all the news of the past month, including details on our upcoming move back across the country. And, no, we are not in the witness protection program. But I feel like maybe we could be. Anywho, here is one of my favorite recent photos of Eli, the boy growing in our midst. Oh, how he astonishes us so.

we've finally dropped below a hundred here...

...to about 80 degrees, and it feels glorious.



Stop laughing, all you East Coasters and any others who are reading my blog while wearing your favorite sweater, drinking your cup of cider, and peering out your window at the brighly hued foliage. We can't all be that lucky. But I'll take what I can get! Happy Friday ;-) I'll be back soon with my favorite squash soup recipe. Yum, yum!

momsense

A friend passed this along to me, and, oh, how I laughed...and laughed...and laughed. I am going to memorize it in time for Eli's adolescence.

BSM: cruisin'

SD and I celebrated our 5th anniversary this weekend, which made me want to pull out our box of wedding and honeymoon photos and paraphernalia, which, believe it or not, also contained 'the binder' of magazine clippings and such of our year of wedding planning. Yes, girls, I had a binder, and I'm sure you did, too. Even though it was only five years ago that we were starting our married life together, in some ways it feels like a lifetime. I don't mean that to sound like it's been drudgery because it's quite the opposite. It has been exhilirating and satisfying to be married...even with all the imperfections of life that go along with it. In our brief five years, we have grown and changed and sacrificed and become better because of each other and for this we are thankful. So, of course, I have to post photos this week of 'us' when we were just babies -- at least this is how I feel looking back. We were clueless and in love, and, oh well, it suited us just fine.

P.S. We saw Across the Universe on Saturday night. Ahhh, what a great film. And appropriate to celebrate our anniversary since The Beatles provided much of the soundtrack for our first year of dating. The film is just fabulous, and the musical interpretations are just superb. Can you tell I liked this film??? Go see it!! Really.



honeymoon cruise, 2002


honeymoon cruise, 2002

state of the union

Finally, a moment to write. SD is scrubbing our wild-child, and I am stealing precious quiet minutes to write Happy Anniversary to us on a keyboard that is missing the letter 'N' because we have a small one who toddles among us, looking for unsuspecting keyboards from which to pluck letters with the determination and precision that I pluck my overgrown mom-brows. It's SD's keyboard, actually, because mine is devoid of the space bar, too.

I am drinking my most recent purchase, Mad Housewife Merlot, about which I will blog at a later date, and thinking about what I can write on a compromised keyboard. I guess I have to avoid 'n' words. Not really sure what those might be, but okay.

So, yeah, it's 5 years for us, which means we were babies of 25 when we, all bright-eyed and unassuming, wed in the wake of a hurricane. We were actually talking about that earlier tonight, saying that seems young to us, but, god, out parents were like, what 15 when they got married. Okay, 16? Kidding. But, shit, they were really young, and that makes me think that I don't even want to think how young our grandparents were when they married. We are now 30 and have one child. By that point, our grandparents had a brood, and our parents certainly had their hands full. And no one took anti-anxiety drugs back then.

I should point out to those readers who may not know that it's been 5 years of marriage for us, but actually, we've known each other since we were 7 and in the second grade, so that's a hike. A good hike, I mean. Earlier today, I was trying to recall where we were and what we were doing for each of our anniversaries up to this point. This is the point where you may want to just leave your comment and sign off because I'm about the take the ever-lovin' stroll down memory lane, and, god, if I were you, I'd sign off and go watch Friday-night TV or something. Go on. You have my permission.

First aniversary, we were both taking grad classes, living in Pasadena, Maryland. Hurricane Isabel hit a couple of weeks before our anniversary, and we started to think there might be a trend. Our wedding date = natural disaster. We ate our frozen wedding cake topper a week early because it had thawed because of the lack of electricity in our apartment. Good times.

Second anniversary is a GAPING hole in my swiss cheese brain. Do holes gape? I don't know, but this keyboard is annoying the holy crap outta me, and, gawd, the letter 'n' is way overused in the English language. Seriously, I don't remember what we were doing for our second anniversary. We were living in downtown Annapolis, which was extremely cool. That's all I recall. We must have drank a lot that year. Oh no, silly me, that was my first year of teaching. That's why I have no recollection. Teaching teenagers (and probably raising them, too) causes serious and irretrievable loss of brain cells, so who needs to drink. Really.

Third anniversary, we were homeowners! Stupid homeowners who flipped a house in a year's time, but it was a great house, except for the crack whore across the street. We ate a decadent anniversary dinner at Cafe Degas, and, how could I forget...we were pregnant!

Fourth anniversary, we were new to Tejas and kicking it in our temporary digs until we found a house. Our first-born was learning to eat crackers while we held our breaths (and probably drank lots of wine).

And now, we have arrived at the fifth, and we are still standing, which some days just seems like a goddamn miracle. But that's how it goes, right?

Happy Anniversary to us!!

20 months!

a photo, since i haven't posted one in a while...

It's the simple things that amuse him so.

learning curves

Boy howdy! -- as one of SD's coworkers would say.

I feel as though I have staggered through thorny forests and tossed about in tempestuous waters to get back to you, blog.

And, so, a Jedi mom returns from another great lapse in blogging...because, you know, I've been wielding my lightsaber for other forces of good in my tiny corner of the universe here.

But it has been too long, so long that I'm a bit timid about actually writing a blog. I don't know if I remember how. And you know, for this all-or-nothing perfectionista, that's a very daunting position to be in. I think I would write more no-nothing blogs if I could just make a deal with myself that it's okay if they're crap. Regular crap is better than no crap, right? And because of this 'condition,' I procrastinate, which is why I am yet again looking at an August banner in late September. Next banner is gonna be generic. I've had enough of this monthly stuff.

So, in the time that has passed since I was last here, many monumental things have occured:

* Vera Wang unveiled a new clothing line for Kohl's, which is really fabulous, I thought, but I still can't afford a sweater that costs $80. Try again, Vera.
* Britney unveiled her softer side on the MTV awards, which, I am not knockin', really. I'm a mom who's got some softer spots myself, but, come on, Brit, I mean, what part of that scenario actually looked good to you in your head when you were contemplating whether or not to do it? Maybe there was no thought, no contemplation? Ya think?
* We have been told by the environmental/mosquito-thingamajiggy organization here that we have West Nile mosquitoes in our back yard. Good thing the repellant that we use smells good because now we have to lather our bodies in it everytime we step outside.
* Um, let's see...oh, right...we quit the gym. Sheesh.
* We almost got a dog but we have enough spots on the carpet already from our other dog (um, child, excuse me).
* We almost took a trip to Costa Rica for our anniversary.
* We have almost finished Season 3 of The Office. I know, I know, premiere is this week. Chop, chop.
* I have concluded that Justin Timberlake is my new celebrity crush. Step off, girlies.
* I have also concluded that, although Oprah herself is supremely annoying and contradictory to me, I cannot live without her show, her book club recommendations, or Doctor Oz. Trust me, I'm hanging my head in shame right now, people.
*And I have concluded that we do indeed live across the street from the Radleys from Harper Lee's novel To Kill a Mockingbird. Who says the suburbs are uninteresting and lacking culture? On most days, I do, but not when Boo comes out.
* Okay, seems like my mental list was a lot longer, but I'm forgetful. And some days, just plain senile.

:::

This photography madness is kickin' me in the bootie, but I'm loving it. And I will love it even more when I succeed in properly exposing a backlit subject. My husband continues to fulfill his engineering duties with skill and panache while eating flaming Cheetoes and dreaming of designing a sail boat that will transport us to a tiny island off the coast of Utopia, where we will eat grapes, wear leaves for clothing, and, I will learn how to properly expose a backlit subject.

And, lo, our young son Elijah continues to usher us deeper and deeper into the manic world of toddler. And I am convinced more and more that I am really in need of Jedi powers (and a bigger lightsaber). I'm sure SD would agree. Who is the center of the universe? Why, we are, silly, because in the immortal words of Bill Cosby, "We brought you into this world, and we can take you out."

But, seriously, he is still dang cute, which does make us pause before we lock him in the closet for our afternoon nap.

what your kid is like after his first day of preschool

look, mom...it's preschool!

Isn't he just dapper? All went well, except the battery on my Rebel crapped out, so thank goodness for the trusty point-and-shoot (and for the fact that I slipped it in my purse as a backup). More tales (and video) to come, but not tonight because I am a tired momma.

and another...

Happy 19 months to the love of our life, even though he wakes up entirely too early sometimes. Can't think of a better reason to be bleary-eyed.

one more thing...

I just found this photographer, and she is incredible (and my new idol)! Just wanted to share on this here 'Best Shot Monday' in which I did not participate. Wah.

BSM: I ain't got one

Well, at least I'm writing to tell you I ain't got one, huh? Kinda makes me feel like I'm back in school and telling my teacher I don't have my homework. It didn't happen often because, surprise, I was an over-achiever (which, by the way, is really over-rated), but gosh I felt horrible when it did. But, oh, that's right, this is my blog, and I can underachieve if I want to. This is one lesson I know I will teach my children: sometimes it is okay to underachieve. Gosh, I am going to be a great parent. Heh. Not that I'm advocating skipping class or anything like that. Well, when they get to college they can. Now those were fun times.

Anywho, yeah, so no photo(s) from me on the blog today. Well, possibly later today if I feel inspired. Our offspring sprung from his bed at, um, like 5 am and declined to fall back asleep, even nestled (okay, sprawled) between his poor, poor parents. We gave you life, child, and this is the thanks. Thanks. Thanks! Thanks. Thanks!

So I've got the IV drip going from my favorite coffee mug straight to my eyeballs, while Barney croons in the background. God, I love Mondays.

Eli starts preschool this Thursday. Yep, you got it. He's off to the land of nap mats, recess, and the jungle of toddler negotiations. And as I type, watching him systematically unloading our pantry one instant oatmeal packet at a time, I think I am looking forward to it.

BSM: Oh, boy

I couldn't decide on one shot so I'm bending the rules and posting a few here. You'll pardon a snap-happy Mom, won't you? Oh please, oh please.

We spent most of yesterday outside doing yard work and watching young Eli become one with the Earth. And, oh, how he loved it so. There are more 'dirty' shots on Flickr if ya wanna have a lookie (send me a Flickr mail if you cannot view them -- I've changed my privacy level to Friends & Family, so you'll need me to add you).

It's early, and I haven't had my cup(s)-o-Joe, yet, so I will write more later (yeah, yeah, she always says that). For more best shots, go here! Happy, happy Monday...

BSM: the hired help

Here's our gardener, hard at work watering our newly-planted flowers. What precision and concentration, huh?

It's good to be back to BSM. For more rockin' shots, go here! Happy week to all.

parenting on the oregon trail

Today we decided to plant flowers in our back yard. Clearly, our child was vexed greatly by our decision and he howled like a rabid coyote all the way to the godforsaken nursey to buy said flowers, during which time, SD said to me:

Do you think kids on the Frontier behaved this way?

Me: Hmmmm.

SD: I bet not. Because their parents said, "Pipe down, I've got to go fight wolves in the wilderness."


Ahhhh, the good ol' days.

holy cow, we've got a live one on our hands


Well, folks, my blog has finally entered the future, or should I say the present. Well, you get it, right. I've shaken the dust of June, totally skipped July, and landed in August, and I'm feeling the heat -- in more ways than one.


I'm sure you noticed the new header, because how could you not -- there's a giant cow (that doesn't really look like a cow) staring straight at you. Not my favorite header thus far, but I was pretty tired of looking at the old one, and, well, there are lots of reasons I'm saying 'holy cow' these days. Here are my more specific August subtitles:


Holy cow, I could save skinny people and become a cellulite donor.

Holy cow, the pitch of our child's screams could summon a pack of wild dogs.

Holy cow, it's so hot here, I could peel my skin off -- which is a disgusting image, I realize.

Holy cow, our child gives new meaning to the concept of defiance.

Holy cow, I am 30.

Holy cow, life is just a bitch sometimes.

Holy cow, I have an incredible husband.

Holy cow, a crisp white wine on a summer afternoon is just about the best cure I can think of for a crappy day, as well as a nice hot shower and a deep and enveloping feather pillow to bury my head in.

Holy cow, I am a mother.

Holy cow, I am blessed.

Holy cow, it's past eleven, and I have to be somewhere tomorrow morning.

:::

The vacation, all in all, was nice. Galveston was a bit of a disappointment, but Kemah made up for it. We were just glad to get out of dodge, as they say. I've posted more vacation photos on Flickr if you wanna have a lookie.

Otherwise, we are hangin' ten in the 'burbs. On a side note, both SD and I have been having the most bizarre dreams lately, which have consisted of me, dreaming of being a waitress (something I have, sadly, never done) and having an anxiety attack because I didn't know how to place the dinner order with the cooking staff (analyze that one) -- and of SD, dreaming of the generously-tatooed guy at our local liquor store, getting on as an employee at SD's company, and later being discovered as a spy for the Chinese.

I know...

We are weird. We embrace that. But, you have to admit, that Chinese spy shit...that's creative.

More to come soon because I miss writing. Terribly. I must put the camera down and press the pen. Ahhh, that sounds so romantic, right? Too bad I mainly type on the keyboard. Ain't an ounce of romance in that.

a vacation...finally

We drove down to Galveston for a few days to escape our busy life. I have lots of things to say, as usual, about the trip thus far, but it will have to wait because I am all tuckered out tonight after a long day with a VERY independent (and at times disgruntled) 18-month-old. I am the last one awake, so it's time for me to catch a few hours before he is up and at us again. Here are a few photos from today. Took along our little Powershot instead of my pride and joy, and it was a good thing because our boy wonder threw sand in the lens. And, no, your eyes do not deceive you: we are all THAT white. Except now I'm sporting a nice little burn on the parts of my back where the sunscreen rubbed off. Gotta love the sun.

taming the beast

I am thinking that soon I will have to write an obituary for my blog. But I am going to make one more grand effort to resuscitate the feeble thing before it gets to that point.

My husband is more poetic than he believes himself to be and often gives me little morsels of inspiration. It's no secret to either of us or anyone who has come to our house lately that it's, well, a little bit messy. With my mad photography obsession, my desire to entertain and play with the child, and my poor husband's stupidly busy work schedule (not his fault), the house has suffered, namely the floors and the bathrooms. But the dishes, too. And just the general mess of junk mail, bills, and catalogs from expensive stores that accumulates into a Mt. Everest of insignificance atop the crumb-laden wood-grain surface of our IKEA kitchen table.

So, the other day, I skipped the gym and made the child play inside, and I cleaned. Like a mad woman.

And when my husband got home, he said very tenderly:

"Thank you for taming the beast."

:::

We took Eli to his first baseball game on Monday, and let's just say, for our child, the lyrics of the song should be changed to "Please, for the love of God, don't take me out to the ball game."

The kid had a major meltdown when we stepped into the expansive stadium of blinding lights, hurried fans, and over-zealous hot dog vendors. So, who even knows if the Astros won or not? We don't, because we didn't even make it to the second inning. Maybe next year.

For more delightful photos from the game, click to the right for our Flickr page. Happy weekend!

And Happy Birthday to Aunt Jenny and to Nanny Mel!!! ;-) Rock on, sistas...

dance party, e.l.i., pt. ii

dance party, e.l.i., pt. i




Hokey Pokey Elmo (see top right-hand corner) drank too much.

in case you haven't noticed...

I'm running a couple of contests here at my blog:

1. Guess how many planets will have been added to the solar system before Jen writes again?

2. Guess how much longer it will be June 2007 at Jen's blog? (I have always wanted to make time stand still.)

Care to make any wagers?

:::

I also don't have a photo for today, so I figured I'd get that piece of disappointing news out of the way from the get-go. Maybe I'll have something later today. I have videos too, I just have to upload them to Google, which takes, like, a lifetime to complete.

Remember this post? Yeah, well, I'm having trouble juggling all my genius balls again. I've been buidling a photography portfolio for the past month, and haven't been able to concentrate on much else but that, SD, and our boy-child. I've also teamed up with a friend-photographer to do event/wedding photography, so getting that launched has kept me hopping, too. It's all very exciting, but reminds me how much I struggle to mutli-task (a.k.a. juggle said genius balls). I'm not giving up my SAHM gig, so I'm still brainstorming ways to do it all -- if that's even possible.

Ummmm, so let's see, when I last left off, Eli was just learning to walk.

K.i.d.d.i.n.g.

It does seem that way.

He can now:

• run the 100 m dash across our living room and kitchen at least 5 times a day;
• wield a fork like a spear fisherman;
• say the word bubble in at least five different syllabic patterns (the kid is gifted);
• eat LOTS of banannas;
• conjure liquid from a straw;
• d.j. his own dance party with a clock radio (I feel this probably calls for more explanation, but it's most intriguing if left to personal interpretation, I think);
• catch flies, with his own personal samuri style of capture, taught to him by who else but his samuri-fly-swatting Sensei, SD;
• say no (which calls for no further explanation).

We just can't get enough of him.

Happy Monday to all. More catching up to come soon. Really. I mean it.

BSM: not quite 20/20

I'm so thrilled to be back with a BSM. I've missed all of you!! It's been a crazy few weeks in our house. All is well, however, so no worries! Here's Eli in his Grandad's glasses. I don't know about you, but I think they're a perfect fit. I will be back later this week to tell you about lots of things, including but not limited to toddler fly-swatting techniques, parent fly-swatting techniques, what to do when it's about to start raining frogs, what to do when you are abducted by mosquitoes, my new photography gig, SD's "garage project," and, well, much, much more. I've been away too long. As always, for more best shots, go here.

i am not dead...

...just crazy busy these days. Will write soon. I promise. Because if I do not, I shall perish.

Obviously, I'm not too busy to be dramatic.

More of all of our goings-on very soon.

Hope everyone had a great 4th.

attitude

Yeah, I'm 17 months. You got somethin' to say 'bout it.

a little poetry for the soul

I'm going to write a longer post soon (I promise), but for now, I don't want my sad post from a few days ago to be the first thing people see when they come to my blog, soooooooo, go here for a great poem. Thanks, Jean!

Hope everyone is having a super Saturday. We slept in (in shifts, of course, 'cause that's what we gotta do) and did some light yardwork. And tonight, after the kiddo's asleep, we are going to watch


The Office, Season 3


Yeeaaaaahhhhhhhh...

the weight of witness

I've just gotten through Kate's most recent post in which she talks about being a witness to our children's lives, in any kind of weather, no matter what, because that's just what we do as parents:

Our purpose is to bear witness for our children. Graceful or clumsy we walk beside them, hold their hands as far as we’re able. Even when we despair in futility at their path, it is our soul’s contract to accompany them.

Liam died last week, after a laborious month of tubes and tests and hoping and doubting and believing and hoping and finally surrendering.

I cannot imagine losing my child and yet I think about the possibility almost daily. What if? What if? What if? I suppose there should be some solace in the fact that so much is, in truth, out of our control, no matter how much we want and yearn and strive to control. This is the weight of witnessing -- joy, for however long we have it in our grasp, and for seeing pain for what it is and has to be.

It's the scales of justice, always lousily lopsided.

:::

The status quo seems to suit us well these days, and we are spending lots of times indoors to avoid the B.L.A.Z.I.N.G sun, which makes for *interesting* times with a toddler. More of that coming soon, as well as tales from my body pump class. O cruelty, thy name is squat.

bsm: who's your daddy?

Well, here we are -- Monday again. As you have seen, I'm having another dry spell with my writing. It's called: Decide To Repaint and Reorganize Your House and Find You Have No Time To Blog. But the house is coming together, and I promise I will post pictures soon. Happy belated Father's Day to all the superdads out there, especially my wonder-husband. Here's our sprinkler-munchkin with a proud papa lookin' on. I'd write more, but I'mwithoutaspacebar (I wonder why), soI'llhavetocheckinlater. As always, for more best shots, go here.




And a more contemplative one that I just love:

i need new tunes...

Can anyone recommend some tunes for my MP3? I am in desperate need of new music for my workouts, which are hard enough on their own without listening to Beyonce a thousand times. Come on, help a sista out...

the sweet spot

We're still "under renovation" here, trying to finish painting the dining room. It's all trimmed in and will likely be rolled tonight. Last week I moved an old table (actually a $15 garage sale find) down to our living room, and fixed it with a few books and a framed photo and our laptop. It's near our front window, so it makes a great desk without looking like a desk, if you know what I mean. But, it is our child's new favorite spot because of the laptop, of course. And with his recent climbing skills, he is nearly able to get up on the chair, if it's pulled out, on his own. If the chair is pushed in, he screams, and sometimes (sometimes), when it's been a long day, I succumb to his powerful persuasive skills because my ears hurt. Here he is, perched and content, and plotting the great space-bar heist. As always, for more BSMs, go here. I'll hopefully return later in the week with more of my inane mundane ramblings.

buh-bye-ee

the friday funnies: the CVL edition

1. All right. You've waited, you've wondered. Here is how my first encounter with the CVL went (about 4 months ago):

CVL (approaches, location: home furnishings department, Marshall's): Well, hello there, cutie pie (to the toddler, of course)

Me: (Nervous stranger giggle/smile/eh-heh)

CVL (getting down to toddler level,at close range, looking my way with a glazed twinkle in her eyes and an oblivious smile plastered on her face): Are you nursing him?

Me (nervously, weirdly): Yes. (Why did I even answer this?)

CVL: I could tell. Yeah, uh hum.

Me: (Nervous stranger giggle/smile/eh-heh)

CVL: I nursed mine for a combination of 8 years...that's why I'm skin and bones, you know. We were on the road a lot, and it was just easy, we would feed them avocados, and I would nurse them.

Me: (Nervous stranger giggle/smile/nod/nervous stranger giggle/nod/eh-heh/avocados, huh?)

CVL: It's so good for them, you know. And, you know, we didn't vaccinate either. You know, it's when the soldiers came back from the war that they started to vaccinate (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, going on to talk about some doctor in the area, blah, blah, blah).

Me: (Nervous stranger giggle/smile/nod/which war?)

CVL: But you know it's really the sugar.

Me: (puzzled and out of polite utterances)

CVL: It's the sugar that introduced all these diseases and created the need for vaccines.

Me: (Nervous stranger giggle/smile/nod/god, I could use a Snicker's)

CVL: Well, let me let you get back to your shopping. What a beautiful boy. Bye. By-eee (high-pitched cooing ensued as she descended to toddler level again).

Me (putting the picture frame down and scanning for the closest, quickest exit): Oh, yes. Thank you. Take care.

Second encounter (last week):

Me (seeing CVL approaching, OMG, is it really her AGAIN?)

CVL (again, in the home furnishings department, Marshalls): Well, what a cute little thing you are (again, to Eli, of course).

Me: (oh no, here she is again, quick, Eli, cry, do SOMETHING)

CVL: Oh, look at his little shoes.

Me: Nervous stranger giggle/smile/nod/she doesn't remember who we are)

CVL: My kids didn't wear shoes...I breastfed them.

Me: Nervous stranger giggle/smile/nod/wow, didn't know breastfeeding eliminated the need for shoes)

CVL: We're vegans. And I used to say to them (reaching down to Eli's feet), are those to-fu's or little fu-ey toes?

Me: Eh-heh (okay, hello...weird, come on, Eli, cry, for the love of God, do SOMETHING)

CVL (looking towards a painted canvas I was backed up against): Oh, that's really nice.

Me. Yes, it is.

CVL: Oh, well, let me let you get back to your shopping. Bye-eee.

Me: Oh, okay. Bye. (okay, hello...weird).

**I feel I should add that I have nothing against the vegan philosophy. Really, I don't. I wish sometimes I could do it. And I've even tried. And, I also should add that I almost NEVER go to Marshalls, so what are the odds that within the span of 5 months, I would see the CVL twice. Weird. The universe is conspiring against me. I'm sure of it. And, yes, I realize, this wasn't as good as I built it up to be. Oh, well. Life is full of disappointments. You'll get over it.

2. This week SD and I have taken to the slightly manic habit of inserting the phrase "do-dah" after many things that we say. For instance,

It's really hot outside. Do-dah.

or

Are you going to take the trash out? Do-dah.

or

Wanna order Chinese? Do-dah.

or

That diaper was a real stinker. Do-dah.

And it's not just any ol' do-dah. It has to be said with conviction -- as in DO-DAH (emphasis on DO). Try it. It definitely makes daily conversation much more exciting, even though you start to question your soundness of mind.

3. Finally, here's our tiny dancer, rockin it' at the pool on Wednesday. Didn't want to swim. Just wanted to dance. Rock on...

atticus has arrived

I don't have the energy to write about Crazy Vegan Lady tonight. I promise, though, that I will before the week is through. And now, because I've built it up so much, I fear it will never be as good as in your fantasies. Oh, well.

I do, though, want to send out congratulations to Brian, Bethany, and new big sister Mia on the birth of baby Atticus, born on June 4, weighing in at a healthy 9 pounds, 6 ounces (same as our "little" Eli).

And, I have to say, I was quite impressed with Bethany who was emailing friends from her hospital bed last night. At that point after Eli was born, I still don't think I was speaking in complete sentences. Go girl.

All the best to you guys, and we'll be in touch soon!

for kate

I haven't referenced Kate and her boys in a while, but I was just catching up on her blog and felt like I wanted to post something for them, even though I have never (and probably will never) meet them and she may never read this. I'm just continually amazed that she can write so much so often so intensely and so beautifully, all while dealing with the emotions of what her family is going through. I'm so drawn to their story and hope and wish and pray -- and whatever else there is to do -- that their outcome will be more positive than their doctors say it will. There's video on her latest post that will take your breath away. She has received so much support on her blog, mostly from people who don't know her personally. It's remarkable to witness, and I can only hope that all the energy/thoughts/prayers/goodness of spirit sent their way will make a difference for little Liam and Ben.

cool waters

Is it Monday already??? My tired, not-fully-caffeinated body tells me it is. Weekend was productive, but not long enough, OF COURSE. We did, however, get our living room painted, and now I have retracted my previous statement to a friend about wanting to BURN THE ENTIRE HOUSE DOWN. I will post photos once we have furniture back in its place and a few pictures on the walls. Gotta get on that. Stat.

Our toddler was CHALLENGING this weekend, to say the least. We have entered the desert of limit-testing. Oh happy day. Here he is blissfully filling his swimming pool with cool waters, some of which also managed to assemble in puddles on our back deck and in our yard. I wonder how that could happen? Challenging, I tell you. For more best shots, go here. And come back later this week for tales of the CVL. You won't want to miss it!

the friday funnies

1. Our living room walls are now trimmed in a beautiful bluish-greenish-grayish hue that, in the morning light pouring in from our eastern-facing windows, looks bright sky blue and horrid next to our sofa's faded green slipcover. SD says at least the conversation we had from 9 pm to 12 am the other night was good, right down to the relationship between barbie dolls and gender equality/inequality in our society (we're deep thinkers, okay). And I say, yeah maybe the next one we have re-painting in a different color will be even better. Worst part: before we decided that the color would not work, we purchased another whole gallon of the rogue color. I HATE to admit it, but I think I need Ty Pennington, minus whatever crack he is on. On second thought, I think I want the crack.

2. SD looked like a bizarre amalgam of Rambo and Robocop wrapped in ace bandages and ice last night after his soccer game. He played twice this week, so the HURT is on.

3. Yesterday as I was preparing supper, I found a toddler-sized t-shirt in our freezer next to the chicken nuggets.

4. Today, I met up with the SAME Crazy Vegan Lady (CVL) I saw in Marshall's about a month ago...in Marshall's AGAIN, and she told me the SAME story about how she breastfed her kids 'till they were 18. Well, not really, but stay tuned...more on this later, because it's oh-SO-worth elaborating on.

5. Yesterday, my genius younger sister (sorry, I'm too lazy to link her photo) sent me her latest Photoshop creations:

Personally, I think I look HOT in the second one, which makes up for the black eye in the first. And who needs Pitt when you've got SD. Hubba, hubba.

almost funky

Well, hullo there. I am hanging my head in deep (deep) shame as I type this because I am a bad, bad blogger. Honestly, I had high hopes after my last post. I was going to run the race, fight the good fight, try to write a blog everyday. And, well, I think we all know how that turned out.

Shameful.

But let us not dwell on this sad fact. Holiday weekends throw me off. In my wacky world, it was Monday today, and I had my usual list, some of which I made while huffing on the recumbant bike at the Y. I'm telling you, people, it was multi-tasking at its finest.

If I would have posted a BSM, it would have been a photo of a wine glass atop a paint can, because last night, I was sipping wine and priming the chocolate brown walls in our dining room to be repainted. Yes, we are painting... AGAIN. SD and I are a productive/destructive duo, if that makes any sense. We get these harebrain ideas, and, worse, we run with them. Ideas like priming our dining room walls at 9 pm on a Monday night. Ideas like ripping cabinets off the wall. Others that I can't think of because it's late, and I have brain-drain. You get it, though. Think GRAND ideas. Impressively enough, however, we usually manage to pull them off -- for the most part.

So, here WAS our idea/inspiration for the living room. Funky, huh? Almost. We love it, but I splashed a sample of aqua paint on our living room wall last night, and it doesn't quite coordinate with our couch's olive green slipcover. Wah. Back to the drawing board/canvas/square one. You get it.

What else? Oh, yes..finished Season 2 of The Office. Pam loves Jim. Jim loves Pam. Pam loves Jim. Jim loves Pam. Pam loves Jim. You get it. And, yes, I know, it's only Season 2, and things happen in Season 3, and well, let me just have my moment of glory, okay? In other words, don't rain on my Dunder-Mifflin parade.

Okay, that's it for tonight. I have a whopping two new photos (of the kid) posted on Flickr if anyone's interested. I've really got to get on it. Chop chop. And video. Sheesh. What's that. I take them, but I don't post them. Yeah, yeah. I'm on it.

Maybe I need new vitamins...

on writing, bird-killings, and other fancy things

My sister-in-law, who will probably want to kill me for linking this picture of her at Eli's first birthday party, recently told me she wants a daily blog from me. You know, come to think of it, I want a daily blog from me, too. I wish I could be as prolific, as on-top-of things as some of these champion bloggers out there who post (substance) almost every stinkin' day. How do they do it? I'm simultaneously envious and admiring. Some of them just have the gifts of gab and smarts and fortitude and discipline (god, how I need more discipline) and whatever else it takes to post every goddang day. I remember when I was working as a public relations writer at a university and having to do press releases how hard it was for me to just churn something out in 10 minutes or so. I mean, how hard should it really be to announce that there is going to be a demonstration thingy of a fire rescue mission at the School of Fire...oh, I forget what it was called, but they had demonstrations all the flippin' time? And Lubna, their in-house PR person would always call me up, and I knew, by the smell and fluttering tone of the ring, who it was and what she would say:

Gen-ee-fur...? Loob-na, with the Fire Prevention...blah, blah, blah. Vee are hav-eeng dee-mon-stration tomorrow. Can you write press release and send photogree-fur?

God love Lubna. She was really such a nice lady who was just super dedicated to promoting all the goings-on of her fire center. They were damn lucky to have her.

But, I digress. Although I loved the diversity of topics I was able to cover and that I did get to write the occasional feature story, I always felt under the proverbial gun, no doubt due, in part, to my unceasing perfectionsitic nature to have the perfect word used in the perfect way, in the perfectly wrought sentence. I've since let a little bit of my neurosis go, but I still don't know if I would be comfortable in that minute-to-minute journalist-type job. I am too much a thinker by nature for that. Sometimes, to a fault.

But blogging without deadlines is great, because I do or I don't, and even though I put pressure on myself to do it, because it's so refreshing and such a satisfying creative outlet and a great record of our family history in all it's gloriously mundane glory, I know I don't have anyone waving a calendar of do-this-by-such-and-such-a-date over my incredibly shrinking brain.

And, of course, there is the toddler, whom I infinitely adore and who gives me more inspiration than anything to write (and attempt to do it well). But, you know, he has needs, as he should. And I want to meet those needs with energy and joy and willingness. And so the great circus act begins of trying to be the best mom I can be and also carve out pockets of time to reflect on all the minutia of our life that mostly we only care about but that I feel the need to share with anyone who will read and listen. I've found nap times work best because before bed I'm usually dog tired and indulging my reality TV obsession, which kills off brain matter by the nanosecond. But nap times are usually when I should be cleaning all the messes that crop up as if by cruel magic and tending to other more pressing things like scheduling dental appointments and scrubbing the crayola off the window sill, but the flesh is weak, and sometimes (like now), I cave and indulge in a blog. It could be worse -- I could be indulging in ice cream, which would seriously compromise my upper-arm-circumference reduction program.

Speaking of minutia, here's a little bit, which, I'll admit, is kind of gross, but, what can I say but that it's our life. While wrestling the small one in our bed last night after his bath and before settling him down for sleep, here's what my husband says to me:

I think I need help.

Me: Really? With what?

SD: I can't stop biting my fingernails.

Me: I'm really sorry to hear that.

SD: I know. Me too. I just can't stop. And now they are deformed and they bleed (which is really romantic, by the way).

Me: Well, if it makes you feel any better, it's probably similar to why I have a sick obsession with guillotining all the weekly breakouts on my face (I told you this was gross, and, no, I did not use the word 'guillotine' in that moment...it's called embellishment, people).

Enter toddler, preparing for a swan dive in the direction of the wall behind our bed -- with, I might add, a wreckless abandon and an unbridled enthusiasm no child should have at 8 pm when it is time for him to go to bed and time for his parents to have a drink.

Incidentally, I have other nervous habits, like running my fingers through my hair. It's a wonder I don't have thinner hair. Once, when I was a teenager in church with my family, an old aunt of mine who was at the same mass, came up to me afterwards and scolded me for twirling my hair because she said it distracted her terribly and she could not concentrate on her mass. Wow, didn't see that one coming. And I'm sure I'll spend an extra five light years in purgatory for it. But that's what old aunts are for, I suppose. And she is deceased now, and honestly, I miss her saucy, slightly acerbic retorts.

It should also be known that I peel my fingernails and fidget.

:::

So, I'm trying like mad to work on my 13 Ways of Killing a Woodpecker (modeled after Wallace Stevens' 13 Ways of Looking at a Blackbird), as per Jean's suggestion, but I just can't seem to wrap my pea-sized brain around that poem yet, which has caused me to resort to looking at literary criticism, which I probably haven't done since trying to read some dreadfully boring work like Rob Roy in my senior year of an undergrad British lit class. But now I'm a liar because I so had to do it when I taught the dreadfully indecipherable Scarlet Letter to uninspired high school sophmores. It was in the curriculum so I had to. I know what you're thinking -- I have lead a scandalously interesting life up until now.

I could do, How Do I Kill Thee, Let Me Count the Ways and model it after Elizabeth Barret Browning's poem, which has a much easier structure, but that just seems so cruel considering what the content of the original poem is. I'll have to think about it.

In the meantime, here are some possible ways to murder a bird who hammers away incessantly on your rooftop, particularly when your toddler has decided to sleep in late and you are thanking God and trying to do the same:

• with a shotgun (the obvious and least creative, of course, and which would have to be borrowed, which would be a brow-raiser of a request);
• with a broom (again, sort of obvious, and probably not long enough to reach the roof, but I do have immediate access to one and know how to use it);
• with a cast-iron skillet attached to the end of the broom stick (I haven't exactly fleshed out the details of this yet, but it's more creative than the first two and might provide more of the length/height I need);
• with fireworks (which are probably illegal in my neighborhood because of all the trees, but again, kind of creative; however, this method might be slightly difficult to time, especially with the bird's capabilities of flight, but the 4th of July is coming up)

Okay, so this is all I have at the moment, and the toddler is stirring, so I'll have to to think on this some more later. In the meantime, I'd be happy to hear any other methods you might suggest. I guess that would sort of make you an accomplice if you did, in fact, suggest something that I decided to carry out, but I promise I won't be a snitch.

hitched!

This week's BSM is an easy one! We drove to Louisiana this weekend to attend my friend Jessi's wedding. I've known Jessi since college but haven't seen her in almost five years -- not since my wedding! It's just crazy (and unfortunate) how life takes you in different directions and you lose touch with people who have, at one time, been an important part of your life. It's always nice to reconnect. The wedding was lovely, and they're heading off to Jamaica for the honeymoon. God, I'm so wishing I was her right now, particularly because I need a tan -- desperately. Congrats, Jess and Sam and best wishes for millenniums of wedded bliss. As always, for more super shots, go here!

coaxial kerflooey

I have just cuddled our boy to sleep after reading to him all about the inner workings of a cement mixer, and now I am propped on pillows, with wine, a box of vanilla wafers, and a few of the books I plan to rest my eyes on tonight before I decide to call it quits for today. SD is having dinner with an old friend who is in town for a couple of days, and, well, I would be just finishing up my Wednesday night dose of American Idol results if we had a working television in this house, but (lucky for you), I'm blogging instead.

The television in our bedroom died a week or so ago, meeting its fate at the hands of our toddler who pressed its buttons one time too many. But it was old, so it's not so sad. However, the downstairs tube, which is not-so-old went wonky on us the other night, at which time SD determined it was the cable that had gone kerflooey after excessive jiggling by, who else but our very inquisitive and tactile toddler. So, today, after successfully remembering and pronouncing coax cable (try saying it fast 15 times), I purchased one, and ripe with delight just thinking of what I would able to restore to our home with a couple of quick twists and some minor thrashing of wires, I hurried home to begin the magic. I felt proud. I felt brave. I had purchased a coax cable, for heaven's sake. And it didn't work. Damn.

So, now, we, as in my consultant (husband) and I, think it may be the cable box because it better damn well not be our newish flat-screen TV. All this means that tomorrow I will have to call our beloved cable company, curse the automated menu for at least ten lousy minutes (silently, of course, because, um, TIR...toddler in room), and hope that someone can work a flippin' super miracle and bring me a box in time for the season finale of Grey's Anatomy. I know, I could watch it online the next day, but, come on -- NOT the same.

Therein lies my plight, people. Now, I'm gonna go read my books. Wah, wah. But let me just leave you with this parting morsel of knowledge: cement and concrete are not the same thing (gasp). I know, SHOCKING. And this, I learned from Tough Trucks: The Mixer, a Scholastic books publication.

The answer to your question is yes.

Yes, I am drinking from a glass, but the bottle is right next to it on my nightstand -- you know, in case I need refills.

better-late-than-never BSM

Well, folks, it's been quite a weekend here. I rang in Mother's Day sprawled across our bathroom floor, stricken with a nasty little 24-hour bugger. It's remarkable how philosophical one becomes at the base of a toilet bowl. Unfortunately, my husband and father-in-law got their own versions of it later Sunday morning. So, we've been in recovery mode here today. Luckily, Eli is showing no signs of it, so let's hope it stays that way. This weekend SD's parents visited, and we drove down to the Houston Zoo. Took tons of pictures, but I think my favorite was of the lovely-lined zebras! So here it is for my BSM. And there's even a little diagonal action in there for you, Tracey! Eli loved seeing all the animals, especially the goats in the petting zoo. I wish for the patience and fortitude of those goats. For more zoo pix, check out our Flickr page. And as always, go here for more BSMs, even though it's almost not Monday anymore! Happy week to everyone, and Happy belated Mother's Day to all the fabulous, hot mommas I know!

infertility

I am feeling intellectually and creatively barren these days. Mama mushy brains here. Originality eludes me. For starters, I've only been promising my friend Jean for months now that I will write a poem for her to lay her fabulously poetic eyes upon and offer some critique. Because, though I never have thought myself much of a poet, I see the poetic everywhere everyday. We all do, right? Because life is so naturally poetic. The challenge is just to write it down, despite the inner critic who chides, "You can't." And then, god, there's the vocabulary. In fact, I'm shocked I was able to come up with chides. Had to mine for that one in the depths of my pre-mother lexicon. And, wow, lexicon. Whence did that golden nugget spring? Perhaps I am not as devoid of brains as I thought.

Actually, now that I've pondered this for the three-and-a-half minutes it took me to write the above paragraph, I think it's the reality TV that has shot me off into a state of mindlessnessness, landing me in my current wasteland of dull ideas. Kerplunk. I think this because last night as I was climbing the stairs to go to bed, all I could think about was how brainless Billy Ray Cyrus is and how much American Idol sucked last night. But I should really give myself some credit for swearing off The Bachelor this season. I think it's a real sign of personal growth for me. I mean, I am 30 now.

Perhaps, though, I should take a lesson from my toddler boy. For weeks now, he has been on verbal strike, refusing to speak and wow us with any of the words he was quite close to perfectly articulating weeks ago. Gone, like...and you see, I can't even make a proper metaphor for this. Shameful. I suppose I could've said gone with the wind, but, God as my witness, that's just pathetic, and, hullo, unoriginal, babe. Anyway, SD and I were reading and learned that sometimes this happens to toddlers when they are concentrating on learning other skills, and that once mastered, the former skills return to merge with the newly-acquired ones. So, maybe, I have reverted to my toddler-brain and just can't juggle all my genius balls at one time. Yes, that must be it. After all, packing a dishwasher, laundering snotty sofa cushions, sucking up a carpeted ocean of goldfish -- all require significant concentration and skill, my friends. It's no wonder I can't write a poem.

And then there's the goddamn woodpecker on our roof. If the above skills weren't enough to construct an artistic dam, the restraint required to keep myself from mudering a bird is.

Maybe I need another theme week here? You know, like Fashion Week, because I think we can all say it was then that I reached the pinnacle of my genius.

Even in a rut, however, I count my blessings, every one of them. I have been drawn to this story on one of my new favorite blogs, written by Kate, mama to Evan and most recently, little Ben and Liam who were born prematurely with numerous complications, and who are struggling, day by day, to breathe and to live. Makes me realize how lucky I am to have a healthy, bustling, breathing, living boy, who is, by far, my (and his dad's) most creative and pleasing accomplishment.

I could really drone on and on because our boy-child is napping, and I am enjoying this unedited confessional of my artistic guilt. However, motor-skill refinement from behind the kitchen sink beckons. And soon, so shall the child. And the damn bird.