One of our little guys, Will, started speaking last week. Then, everything was a "Bae-bee." Every photo, young or old, the person was identified as a "Bae-bee." Even inantimate objects were "Bae-Bees."
This weekend, we visited my parents and the boys' Great Grandma (G.G.) who was here for a visit and Will honored her by speaking his second word - "Iddy-at."
About 57 times.
He followed my parents' cats around all day, "Iddy-at Iddy-at," with his little finger pointing at them and his feet, still new to walking, pounding the floor.
Even a concrete bunny my grandma purchased for my parents' yard was an "Iddy-at" and Will took a moment to rest his head on the cold bunny, petting his back.
No animal is safe from his love.
My mom was able to steal a picture of this so I'll post it later in the week. Or month. Let's be honest.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Huey, Duey and Fluey.
The flu struck our house last week and left no untouched. Tuesday, poor Sully woke up in puke. On Thursday, John came home to relieve our green-faced nanny and I came home early, he hoped to relieve him, I hoped to make it until 7:30 (the boys' bedtime) before I threw up.
That didn't happen.
Being overly zealous I plopped the boys in the bathtub and tossed in their bath toys only to turn around and toss my cookies in the toilet. Will cried. Sully played with his toys.
Probably a sign of future somethings but I was too busy wishing I hadn't eaten Mexican for lunch to care about it.
An hour later, Will started tossing his cookies. Poor guy, sad little eyes and pukey shirt - we were quite the pair when I was running him to the bathroom with me, him puking on his onesie, me in the toilet if I was lucky enough to make it there.
My poor mom came to help Thursday night and was sick by 4:30 Friday morning. Saturday morning at 7:30, John was struck.
Damn flu.
Ruined our weekend.
And all of plans to cook wonderful recipes from http://www.thepioneerwoman.com/ - my latest passion. (It still involves food of course).
I am very happy to report we're on the mend just in time for the work week. I am on a no-Mexican diet for at least a month because I've seen it in a form I'd rather not see it in for a long, long time, and I'm looking forward to gaining back every pound I lost last week and then some.
That didn't happen.
Being overly zealous I plopped the boys in the bathtub and tossed in their bath toys only to turn around and toss my cookies in the toilet. Will cried. Sully played with his toys.
Probably a sign of future somethings but I was too busy wishing I hadn't eaten Mexican for lunch to care about it.
An hour later, Will started tossing his cookies. Poor guy, sad little eyes and pukey shirt - we were quite the pair when I was running him to the bathroom with me, him puking on his onesie, me in the toilet if I was lucky enough to make it there.
My poor mom came to help Thursday night and was sick by 4:30 Friday morning. Saturday morning at 7:30, John was struck.
Damn flu.
Ruined our weekend.
And all of plans to cook wonderful recipes from http://www.thepioneerwoman.com/ - my latest passion. (It still involves food of course).
I am very happy to report we're on the mend just in time for the work week. I am on a no-Mexican diet for at least a month because I've seen it in a form I'd rather not see it in for a long, long time, and I'm looking forward to gaining back every pound I lost last week and then some.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Our home.
Three years ago, my parents were planning to move out of the house I'd grown up in. It's not a big thing. Just a split level, 3 bedroom, 2 bath. It's no different from the 50 other houses that line the block. The paint is different and not much else. But to me, that was home. It had my memories. So, when they decided to move, John and I decided to move in.
I started ripping away the wallpaper first, so that I could paint the bedrooms. Removing one layer of wallpapper revealed another, and another - the layers of my childhood. My first years, with blue stripes and colorful tulips, and my older years, when I fell in love with pink (10 years with pink walls and roses may be why I'm not all that fond of pink now).
I discovered drawings downstairs when I peeled back the wallpaper there. Memories of an unfinished basement, my sister and I playing soccer across the concrete, my mom giving us chalk to draw pictures across the floor and walls, came flooding back as I looked at drawings. John looked over my shouler as I smiled at one drawing in particular, a stick person jauntily drawn. "Hmm. You must have been the artist there."
There have been some not so wonderful things, too. The furnace breaking down during the winter. Lights that flicker on and off. Water leaking through the ceiling. But it hasn't been anything I wouldn't expect with a house this age. And to me, it's well worth it.
Becuase this morning, as I drove away for work, I looked back up at the window, where now, my little boys sit in our nanny's arm and wave goodbye to me as I drive away. Years ago, that was me, waving to my mom each time she drove away. That same window. That same sad look on my face.
One day, we will grow beyond this house. I can't imagine it being large enough for two teenage boys and the friends they will bring over. One day, I will have to drive away and look back, knowing no one is waiting to wave from the window.
I started ripping away the wallpaper first, so that I could paint the bedrooms. Removing one layer of wallpapper revealed another, and another - the layers of my childhood. My first years, with blue stripes and colorful tulips, and my older years, when I fell in love with pink (10 years with pink walls and roses may be why I'm not all that fond of pink now).
I discovered drawings downstairs when I peeled back the wallpaper there. Memories of an unfinished basement, my sister and I playing soccer across the concrete, my mom giving us chalk to draw pictures across the floor and walls, came flooding back as I looked at drawings. John looked over my shouler as I smiled at one drawing in particular, a stick person jauntily drawn. "Hmm. You must have been the artist there."
There have been some not so wonderful things, too. The furnace breaking down during the winter. Lights that flicker on and off. Water leaking through the ceiling. But it hasn't been anything I wouldn't expect with a house this age. And to me, it's well worth it.
Becuase this morning, as I drove away for work, I looked back up at the window, where now, my little boys sit in our nanny's arm and wave goodbye to me as I drive away. Years ago, that was me, waving to my mom each time she drove away. That same window. That same sad look on my face.
One day, we will grow beyond this house. I can't imagine it being large enough for two teenage boys and the friends they will bring over. One day, I will have to drive away and look back, knowing no one is waiting to wave from the window.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Leave your diaper on
John and I were doing our Ford assembly line of diaper changing last night, and one of our boys now uses this time to undo the velcro to tear his diaper off.
It's a fun game.
For about two seconds.
John: Geesh, buddy. If you use that skill in 20 years with the ladies, they'll be impressed.
Me: You'd better not be using that skill with the ladies in 20 years. In 20 years, you'd better keep that diaper on.
...
Me: That would be weird I suppose. Him wearing a diaper in 20 years.
John: Shakes his head (He shakes his head a lot. Sometimes I imagine it's because I've said something so brilliant, he's taking time to mull it over).
I shrug. And then my moment of reflection is over and we're off to our Ford assembly line dinner time.
It's a fun game.
For about two seconds.
John: Geesh, buddy. If you use that skill in 20 years with the ladies, they'll be impressed.
Me: You'd better not be using that skill with the ladies in 20 years. In 20 years, you'd better keep that diaper on.
...
Me: That would be weird I suppose. Him wearing a diaper in 20 years.
John: Shakes his head (He shakes his head a lot. Sometimes I imagine it's because I've said something so brilliant, he's taking time to mull it over).
I shrug. And then my moment of reflection is over and we're off to our Ford assembly line dinner time.
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