Monster Pops

I have Bakerella's blog listed in my favorites way down there at the right, but I need to make sure you guys see her Trick or Treats post. These are the cutest little monster pops!

Click on the photo to see how she makes them.

If I'm feeling ambitious, I might try to make the pumpkin ones this weekend for my niece's birthday.

Might.

We'll see how it goes.

Free time and I haven't seen each other for a while.

Anyway, in addition to being adorable, they're not just lollipops...they're CUPCAKE pops, people! Oh yes. I like cake.

Did you notice the weight loss ticker is gone?

Coincidence? I think not.

What's in a diaper?

Wait, that doesn't work. Don't answer that.

How about, a diaper by any other size would smell as sweet?

Uh, no.

Note to self: Don't mix The Bard with diapers.

Especially after the introduction of solid foods.

So what's my point?

My point is this: I'm both delighted and horrified that Jack (almost 23 months) and PJ (almost 6 months) wear THE SAME SIZE DIAPER!!

Delighted because diaper bag packing just got a whole lot easier.

Horrified because why did his teeny tiny baby phase go by in the blink of an eye?

(And how big is this kid going to get?)

(And while I'm at it, if he's already in a size 4, will they make size 10 by the time he's Jack's age?)

I don't want to define him by his diaper size, because he's still my little cuddlebug. But let's just say my little cuddlebug is giving me huge biceps.

And occasional back pain.

The Story of Us (Part deux)

So I looked through all of the travel brochures for student travel and finally settled on one that met my criteria for price, length, and location. I was going to take 50 high school girls to Paris, Provence and Barcelona. YIKES!

As it turned out, the company that offered the package I liked was the one I'd gotten the phone call from.

You know, the phone call.

Determined not to make any more out of the feeling I'd had about that person on the other end, I decided to call and pretend I'd just perused their catalog and decided to plan one of the trips they offered, making no mention of the aforementioned phone call.

I got the receptionist and did just that. Didn't mention my name, didn't mention the call. She told me she'd connect me to a consultant and put me on hold.

Well, you can guess what happened, right?

It was him.

So weird.

There was nothing really significant about him other than the fact that he was really funny and over the course of the first few months we were working on the trip, we started talking and emailing more and more about ourselves.

He lived in Boston, and as it turned out, he'd written a bestselling novel.

Pretty cool.

We talked on a regular basis - usually not about the trip - and after a few months, when a coworker of mine in Pennsylvania asked if I'd like to go to Boston with her, I met him for lunch.

Nice guy. No sparks.

But, I loved Boston.

Loved it!

And I started getting one of those feelings again.

My Peej

This post is all about my little cuddlebug, PJ, who will be six months old on October 11.

(How did that happen?)

Take a look at this sweet face.

His eyes seem to be staying blue, and his hair is more blond than Jack's...and perhaps even a little reddish in the right light.

He totally has a sense of humor already, and is absolutely enthralled by his big brother (who is equally fond of him).

He looks a lot more like my side of the family than Jack does, and in this particular shot, looks exactly like my Dad.

His cheeks are perfectly edible, and I just can't help but kiss them all day long.

Every now and then, though, he has an expression that looks just like Jack. This is one of them.

Then, there's the "Whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis?" face.

(Oh, and PS, he's sitting up!)

He has the funniest belly laugh, and no one makes him laugh harder than his big brother.

(Yes, sometimes I do let my kid jump on the couch.)

I remember wondering, before he was born, how I was going to be able to love another baby as much as I love Jack.

But my Mom was right (she usually is, but don't tell her I said that), more love comes.

PJ, you've stolen my heart and I love being your Mommy!

Just curious...

I've tried to keep politics out of this blog, even though I have fairly strong feelings about a few issues (don't we all?).

But just out of curiosity, will you humor me by taking this totally scientific and groundbreaking poll? (And by that I mean I might just send it in to the election committee if the electoral college is in a deadlock or if there's another "dimpled chad" debacle.)

Your votes are completely anonymous to me and everyone else, unless you choose to leave a comment to go along with it.

Life's a Beach

I'm diving right in with pictures in this post because they are so cute.

Can you even stand it?

We just spent a few days with my Mom, Dad, Aunt and Uncle crashing joining them on their vacation in Sea Isle City, NJ. The weather was cool and windy at best, rainy and flooding at worst, but we had a great time nonetheless.

The first day there, Jack and I took a little walk on the beach. We had it completely to ourselves. It was windy and you can see that the surf is rough, but that didn't stop us. We ran around, built sand castles, and had fun.

The waves were so rough that they churned up this foam which Jack enjoyed playing in.

(If anyone knows anything about the foam - that it's some kind of pollution, like the kind that makes the sunsets so pretty - please don't tell me.)

He was just being so dang cute, completely oblivious to the fact that his clothes were wet, he was covered in sand, he had the one-sleeve-up-one-sleeve-down thing going on, and having so much fun that I couldn't help taking a million pictures of him.

I wish I were a little more like that.

Here, Jack is doing his Silly Walk.

He made it up, and we started calling it that, so now when we ask him to do the Silly walk, he bends at the waist, puts his arms back and takes these funny little steps.

And the above picture captures why Jack loves his Nana so much. She's not afraid to Silly Walk right along with him!

(It was a plus that there was no one else on the beach, but I'm fairly convinced she'd have done it anyway.)

In other news, we're sleeping better after doing a few nights of letting PJ cry a bit. Not too bad - nothing drastic. Just his knowing that we're not going to rush in there every time he lets out a whimper has cut our night wakings down to one or maybe two per night. This is a significant change from just a week ago, so I'm thankful for more sleep because as Patrick everyone knows, "When Mama ain't happy, ain't no one happy!"

Oh, and don't worry if you think PJ got gypped on the air time in this post. The next one will be dedicated solely to my little happy boy. Gosh, I love him so much! Wait until you see...

Thanks for checking in. We'll catch you on the flip side.

Testing 1...2...3

Trying to learn hatemail HTML.

YAY! Thank you, Dave Brown!

One of those days

I took a shath this morning.

Or was it a bower?

You know - when you have a drain that drains so slowly you're not sure if you're taking a shower or a bath up to your ankles and you wonder, do you sit down in it to conserve water, or...?

Yeah, it's going to be one of those days.

And the way I see it, it's going to wind up being one of those weeks.

I know you guys have been really kind letting me go on and on about my sleep woes, but please let me just say it this once more: sleep deprivation SUCKS.

I'm not talking about getting up once or twice during the night.

I'm talking about eight or ten times. Or more.

I'm talking about being up for the day at 3:30 am because he wouldn't go back to sleep.

If we want to make sure we don't have another week like this, it is time to cry it out a little, people, and it's either us or him. (Him being PJ.)

And since we've been crying for about four of the last five months, we're going to let him have a turn.

Starting tonight.

God help us.

The Story of Us (Part 1)

Our third anniversary is on the horizon. It's close enough to start budgeting for something special to celebrate - dinner out or a weekend away - but far enough away that The Story of Us can be told in four or more parts without any of them being back-to-back (Because who wants to read all that in one go? I'm doling out bits of my life to you little by little...can you tell I'm a gradual band-aid taker-offer instead of a band-aid ripper-offer?).

It all starts with a phone call and a trip to Paris.

Neither had anything to do with Patrick.

I get feelings about things. Do you? If you do, you know what I mean. If you don't, you'll think I'm crazy. I can live with that. Sometimes, something isn't just what it seems. Sometimes a phone call isn't just a phone call.

This time, I knew there was something significant before I even knew what the significance was.

It was a voice mail - one of several left for me by educational travel consultants who somehow had my name on a list of foreign language teachers (Je parle francais, mais je ne parle pas HTML. Je ne sais pas comment faire des accents avec mon ordi portable.) and were calling me all summer hoping I'd book a trip for my students with their company. I was working as a nanny that summer, taking care of my next door neighbors' 5-month-old little girl, and when I got home at the end of the day and listened to the messages, there it was - just another cold call, but for some reason, I had the feeling that this one was different. I felt like somehow I was going to become friends with this caller.

I don't what it was that made me think he seemed particularly friendly. The Boston accent?

Of course, the logical part of my brain is especially persistent during these moments of extrasensory suspicion. I'm a scientist at heart, and if I can't use logic to describe something, my brain has a hard time accepting it. Certain that I was just being silly, I wrote off my feeling as hunger and went for the fridge.

But that night, I took out the stacks of brochures and catalogs I'd accumulated from these educational travel companies and looked through them for the trip that suited us best. That year would be my first time leading a group of high school girls to France and Spain, and as the summer was drawing to a close, that task started to feel more and more daunting.

End part one.

It's hard to believe, two kids later, that we haven't been married three years yet. I didn't date a lot, so after I turned 30, I really started to think that maybe it just wasn't going to happen. Maybe my standards were too high, or I was too set in my ways to get married.

And then, BAM! Married, new house, and two kids in two-and-a-half years' time.

We don't mess around. (Actually, we do - hence the two kids.)

So your video clip du jour is one of my faves. Before PJ started rolling over, we'd often prop him in the corner of the chair or couch if we had to go to the bathroom or run upstairs for something. This one particular day, I needed to go get my glasses upstairs and left Jack looking at a book on the floor while PJ was on the chair. I came downstairs to this: Jack had climbed up in the chair next to PJ and was showing him the book.

THAT Mom

Am I turning into that Mom? The one that whips out the accordion-folded string of wallet photos when you haven't seen her in a little while, and gives you all of her children's updates, including every last up-to-the-minute detail ad nauseum when a simple "We're doing well, thanks" would have sufficed as an answer to your "How's your family?"

Well, I've come to realize that my family is pretty all-consuming right now. Patrick and I are both working hard (and sleeping little), Jack is developing his vocabulary by leaps and bounds (and mastering the art of the temper tantrum), and PJ is getting bigger every day (despite my efforts to keep him little forever). I am absolutely, 100% in love with my family, and even though sometimes (sometimes?) this is the hardest job on the planet, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

That said, it's my blog and I'll do what I want.

Just kidding - love ya, mean it - but I guess that even though I'd like to blog about a lot of things, the majority of the time, it's about the fam. It's that blog, and I'm that Mom...and while I'd love to be spending my free time (free time?) writing that novel I've always wanted to write, I'm actually doing laundry, checking out Facebook, or resting myself.

So this blog will continue to be about the things I love, and right now, I don't have too much time to love anything other than my family.

Did you guys need that disclaimer?

Probably not.

But I think I needed to work that out for myself. Thanks for bearing with me.

Now, on to the aforementioned cute videos.

I've decided not to post them all at once (who wants to spend five minutes of their life watching some other person's kid?) so I'm going to dole them out one at a time.

Here's the first one, from a trip to the local petting zoo. The donkey decided the donation box was just the right height for scratching that itch on his head...

...and Jack decided he needed to check it out for himself.

Yup - that hit the spot.