Thankful

Spent the day with these little munchkins today. 

I am thankful for their laughter.

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Thankful for their silliness.

Thankful for their mischievousness.

And yes, even thankful for the tears and tantrum.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Way Too Fast

I spent a good part of the New Year's Eve sorting through the kids' outgrown stuff, getting them ready for donation, give-aways and Craig's List. Everyone tells you to enjoy your kids because it goes too fast. But you don't quite realize how fast it really goes until you are staring at the stuff that not one, but both of your kids--who are five years apart, no less--have outgrown.

Here's the changing table that we received as a gift over seven years ago. It managed to withstand both of our wiggling, screaming, poopy kids. Both EB and BBoy pretty much hated laying still so they squirmed, rolled and kicked through most of their diaper changing sessions. Towards the end, one of its corners cracked and K ended up having to reinforce it with a heavy-duty metal wire. It's a simple changing table, but it served us well. In-between wiggles and kicks, K and I would kiss and bite their little toes, tickle them and gobble them up while they belly-laughed. I am going to miss this changing table.

EB at six months

BBoy at three months

Here's the crib that both kids slept in the first two years. Most nights they slept peacefully, 10-12 hours at a time (yes, we got lucky on that front). EB slept in that crib until two-and-a-half, whereas BBoy graduated to a big boy bed a few months shy of two. The little guy kept trying to climb out of the crib (he's a sneaky one), so we figured it was time.

BBoy planning his escape

EB peacefully sleeping

And then there's the little car that EB scooted around in. And the doggy walker that BBoy leaned on and learned to walk. Baby bottles and baby sippy cups. Bags of their outgrown booties, shoes and onesies.

In a blink of an eye, EB has moved on from giggling, singing toddler to to the still-giggling, still singing, sometimes eye-rolling and sulking pre-tween girl. BBoy is not too far behind, trying desperately to keep up with his big sis, struggling for more and more independence each day. And I look at both of them with awe, excitement, wistfulness.
























My 2014 resolution? Cherish each day. Because it really does go too fast.

Binky in the Bottle

In the past few years, I have become more and more lax about list-making and "control" in general. The reason for this regression is that I've wizened to the fact that the concept of control is mostly an illusion. Sure, I can drive myself crazy and be all sorts of control freak--making lists, fretting, obsessing--but in the end, it really makes not an ounce of difference.

Besides, for the most part, K and I are pretty good at improvising when things go awry. As a case in point, we recently took the kids to Branson, MO for a weekend getaway. A few hours before we left, we ran around collecting various toiletries and last minute items. We were pretty proud at how quickly we were able to round up all of our things (and with two kids, we certainly had lots and lots of things), until we realized, upon reaching our destination, that we forgot to bring B's pack-n-play. And of course, this particular hotel did not lend out any sleep furniture for the kids-- no cribs, no pack-n-plays, no cages. We were left to fend for ourselves.

K and I scratched our heads, but figured we'd make do. We surveyed the room, and decided to surround the bottom of the kids' bunk bed with three chairs and a couple of suitcases. The effort earned us A+ in efforts but D- in safety. B was ecstatic; he thought that we had built him his personal jungle gym. Instead of sleeping, he climbed around the chairs, laughing like a drunken little troll. After an hour of cajoling and a near-nose dive from his bunk bed, K ended up driving to the nearest Walmart, where he become the proud owner of yet another pack-n-play.


Despite our minor memory lapse, we did remember to bring this:

...along with a couple of bottles of this: (it's the important stuff, right?)

Later that night, we realized that we forgot to bring a cork stop to keep our remaining bottle of wine fresh. But fear not, as K managed to improvise with this:

Gives a whole new meaning to the concept of nightcap.

Wordless Wednesday

Cocktail Party

The other day, I went shopping with a work acquaintance, whom I will call Laura in this post. Laura, a fashion-aficionado and childless, convinced me to buy a pair of sleek, rather shimmery black shorts--"perfect for summer cocktail parties!" she gushed. This made me laugh out loud, because I can't remember the last time I attended a fabulous cocktail party, or any party for that matter.

As a case in point, here is a video clip of how my Saturday night went. After a fun-filled day of frolicking in the park, the kids decided to take a train down to meltdown central.

After K and I managed to calm, feed, bath and sleep the kids, we decided to have a little cocktail party of our own to calm our fraying nerves. Cheers!

Too Hairy, Too Scary, Too Mean

Part of the fun of Halloween is dressing up in a different costume each year. Unless you are my daughter, who insisted on being Spider Girl again. For the third year in a row. K and I took her to the Halloween store hoping that something different would strike her fancy this time: a witch? ("Too scary.") A ninja? ("Too mean.") Cat in the Hat? ("Too hairy.") We cajoled, begged and even tried bribing, but nothing would persuade her from dressing up as this Marvel Comics heroine. Don’t get me wrong—I’m pretty frugal and am all for reusing costumes. But, kids grow up fast, and I was hoping to put together an online photo timeline of EB in different costumes each Halloween.  We were finally able to convince her to at least take on a different Spider Girl look, one that adds a bit of flare to the otherwise traditional blue and red getup.

Here she is…pretty in pink, but deadlier than the Black Widow.

I had every intention of dressing up BB in something adorable, but I never got around to it; having a newborn sucks every ounce of energy out of you. I did manage to create an impromptu costume for myself and the little guy. Here's a pic -- got meself a right fine wee li'l pirate-in-training!

EB the Artist

EB turned a corner last night with her artistic abilities. For the first time, she drew a picture that actually resembled something. This is quite a change from the ones she had been producing – a collection of colors and scribbles, or what I’d like to think of as abstract art, a very sloppy Kandinsky.

I was making dinner when she happily ran over and walked me through her masterpiece. Check out the drawing, along with her explanation of each object. Her narrative of the images was bizzare/dreamy/scary: a boat chasing a submarine with anchors, torso-less midgets and a yellow ghost floating out in the ocean, a  floating bunch of grapes (perhaps as an offering to the mysterious kayaker). It’s got all of the makings of a David Lynch movie.

K and I are not one of those parents save all of their kid’s artwork. We’ve been judicious about which pictures to save, pruning all pieces that represent a mere scribble. But this one is worth saving, and it will be fun to see how EB’s abilities progress throughout the years.