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It's been busy around here lately. Oh wait, that's not exactly new news. Maybe I've just really been feeling it lately, if you know what I mean. Its very much an end-of-the-week feeling. Even though I no longer work outside of the home, I still live for Friday, because I know that Hubs will be with me for Saturday AND Sunday, and it will be glorious. I'll still be tired, but there will be another pair of hands around to wipe noses and bums and find toys and sippy cups and read stories and joggle babies and all the other day-to-day duties that are part of our lives. 

In all the hustle and bustle, I really look forward to my little bits of down-time. That moment after everyone is in bed and the dishwasher is running and the twilight is creeping over us and there is a little bit of calm is so delicious. Sometimes I sew, or watch TV, or read, but today I went and did a little web surfing. And I found such an interesting video/short film thing that I want to share with you. It just made me feel calm, which is what I'm looking for these days. I found it via Dooce, (aka Heather Armstrong) and if you don't already know about her, you should go and check her out. (She's possibly one of the most famous bloggers around, supports her family with he full time blog revenues. Both she and her husband quit their jobs to work on her blog, and now they even employ people. Blogger success story. Anyhow there is tons written about her if you want to know more. That's what google is for people.) This post, which had me just about crying with laughter pretty much sums up why she is awesome. 

Anyhow, here's the video. So well done. And the music by Sufjan Stevens doesn't hurt either. 

 

Enjoy.

patchwork

Its all I want to do these days. Sew patchwork. This is problematic as there are a million other things to do most of the time, and those things revolve around the two little people that I live with. Food to prepare, toys to clean up, floors to sweep. You know its bad when you think to yourself, "we need a dog to keep the floor under the table clean. Yeah, that'd be less work, right?" Seriously, I did four (4!) loads of laundry the other day. And just when every item of clothing in the house was clean, the New Baby, champion pooper that he is, busted out such a diaper blaster that he went through two layers of clothing. And when I was bathing him I was all like "how is there poop under your arms!" Sheesh. And also, MORE laundry. Luckily the Little Dude and his Dad had been outside in the mud, so there was enough to do another little load. Yay. (That's a sarcastic 'yay' in case you can't tell)

But all I want to be doing it this:  I'm so happy with how its coming along, and it is so much fun. And so calming. It reminds me of this quote from the book Anonymous Was A Woman, by Mirra Bank. Its a collection of traditional American Art and quotes from the women who made the work, or at least works like it. Antique quilts and embroideries, samplers and water colours, all given context by excerpts from letters, journals and publications of the period. Its one of my favourite books, and something that I often revisit for inspiration. When I made my first real body of art work, at the end of my undergrad, I used a few quotes from it in the works themselves. This one from the turn of the century is my favourite, and is one I think of regularly these days. 

"I'd rather piece as eat, and I'd rather patch as piece, but I take natcherally delight in quiltin'... Whenst I war a new-married woman with the children round my feet, hit 'peared like I'd git so wearied I couldn't take delight in nothing; and I'd git ill to my man and the children, and what do you reckon I done them times? I just put down the breeches I was patchin' and tuk out my quilt squar'. Hit wuz better than prayin', child, hit wuz reason."    Aunt Cynthy, ca. 1900

Amen, Aunt Cynthy, Amen. That really resonates with me right now, but also makes me feel pretty glad that I don't have to patch breeches. And that the four loads of laundry that I did the other day involved pushing buttons on a machine, and not drawing water from a well, heating it over a fire and then beating the dirt out of the clothes. We've got it good these days, I tell you whut. 

On a related note, I got a new quilting book out of the library last week, and I've been carrying it around the house with me, from room to room wherever I go. It is so inspiring. 

The project that rings my bells most is the one pictured in the top right-hand corner of the cover.   Its a sewing machine cover, though really, I can't ever see myself using a sewing machine cover. Why put a cover on something you use every day? But its the patchwork pattern that I love so much. Its got an amazing rhythm to it, that I can't wait to try. I'll probably do it up as a full quilt, or maybe a wall hanging or something like that. Maybe even a really nice bag. We'll see. You know, in all that free time I have. 

I also think this quilt is just to die for. A nice balance of contemporary looking without losing a traditional sort of scrappy feel.

Gorgeous, just gorgeous. 

But some other time, some other year, there will be time for all these projects. In the meantime, this is what I've got going on.

Ah, my three lovely boys. Luckily only two thirds of them require my constant attention. And when he can, the biggest third does his best to entertain them both, even if it means multitasking while being climbed on like a jungle gym. And as I said before, I almost never have to patch their breeches. Just a little hemming here and there, and I can use a sewing machine for that. 

rhymin'

We've been really into poetry around here lately. Or, well, I don't know if you can call it poetry, per se, but we're really enjoying rhymes. And I'm quite impressed with both his ability to remember fairly long poems, and also his ability to actually use rhyming words. We do Willoughby Wallaby Woo, and I leave the rhyming name at the end for him to fill in. For example, he knows that when I say Willoughby Wallaby Wummy, and Elephant sat on....." he fills in "Mommy!" With great glee. Got this fun book out of the library, and have been reading bits and pieces from it to him once or twice a day.

I picked it up because I've been humming the title song quite a bit of late. The Little Dude has a game he plays that involves laying out a green blanket on the floor and making a farm/construction site on it, and every time he comes to me and says "Mama, I need dat green grass." I sing "Oh the green grass grows all around, all around and the green grass grows all around." But that's all I knew of it, and it was kind of bugging me, so obviously, this book could solve my problem. 

I'm not entirely sure of the definition of "Folk Poetry", but a lot of them are traditional children's schoolyard rhymes, the kind you would remember from grade school, the little poems you would use to pick who was 'it', like 'one potato, two potato' or the nonsense parody songs that are always popular, like 'on top of old smokey/ all covered with cheese/ I lost my poor meat ball/ when somebody sneezed'. The book also includes the music in those cases. 

But even though there are some familiar ones, there are a lot that are new to me, and have really come to stick in my mind. For example, this is my favourite.

Try reading it out loud, even just once or twice, and I promise you will find it very satisfying to say. 

Some are funny, some are poignant and some are even kind of sad. Don't you think that 'darling sugar lump' is an excellent term of endearment?

chirp

Thank you all so much for leaving comments here and on facebook about the Little Dude's haircut. I appreciate you all for talking me down off the ledge. You're right, its not so bad. If it was a buzz cut I don't know what I'd have done. Maybe put Nair in my husband's shampoo bottle, you know, once I finished crying. But really, its just short now, he's not bald. And its growing on me, and eventually will get longer. So its all good. 

Now I can stop fixating on it and tell you about the NICE things that happened this weekend. 

It was Easter, so of course we had an egg hunt.
This is the first year that the Little Dude really 'got it', both understanding both that a) he was supposed to look for the hidden eggs, and b) the eggs were made of CHOCOLATE. He was very motivated. Of course his cousins are much bigger than he is, so they gave him a head start. And he's much shorter than all of them, so he mostly could only find the ones that were low to the ground. Until Grandpapa put him up on his shoulders and showed him a few that he had hidden especially for him.
And I must say that I admire his restraint, as he mostly waited until the end of the hunt to eat, and then only had a few. He's doing very well with complying as I mete them out to him, one with every meal and one after nap time. I'm impressed with his ability to delay gratification. Heaven knows, he's got more will power than I have!
Also, he found a little cart to pull around his basket of eggs with, and that seemed even more interesting than the candy. At one point he decided to go up a flight of stairs, and when he figured out that he couldn't carry both the basket of eggs and the cart, he didn't hesitate for even a second and chose the cart to accompany him upstairs. 

We had all the usual fun with the cousins at GranGran's house. Played in the sandbox, ate a giant dinner, talked all at the same time. But the most interesting moment of the day involved and encounter with wildlife of course.   Hubs found a toad! He has such an eye for the small things; the creepies and the crawlies. 

The Little Dude was fascinated of course. 

We all gathered round to have a chance at holding him, and looking at him, and jumping and giggling when he jumped. Even the Little Dude took a turn at holding him, and has grown up some since the last time we held a toad, last year. I could tell because he didn't hold him in a terrifying (for the toad) tight grip, but instead held his hands open and let the toad jump free when he needed to. I love how his hands look in the photo, and how both are open, even though he only needed one to hold the little creature. Incidentally, this is the same way he holds his hands open when he prepares to hold his new baby brother. 

And while we were all gathered around, we discovered something new that we did not know about toads. They chirp! Turn your volume up when you watch the video and listen. Its quite audible.   

Isn't that cool? You learn something new every day, right? Or as my friend in Quebec used to say "tonight you go to bed a little less stupid".  I love how that translates. 

Anyhow, it was so funny, as I watched this little toad, someone near and dear to me was brought to mind. I turned to Hubs and said "Is it wrong that that toad is reminding me of the New Baby?" And he laughed and said that he'd thought the exact same thing. We often call the New Baby our Little Toad. There is just something so amphibian about his little body, all round bellied and bowlegged and when he tucks in his chin and blinks as he wakes up, he totally looks like a toad. He has this unimpressed face too, that is very toad like. See what I mean:
 And even the way he struggles and wiggles when he fusses was just like the way this real little toad was trying to evade our grasp. "And not only that," Hubs quipped, "but he's peed on me twice already!" (you can see it in the first photo if you look closely) I rest my case. 

cut

Sigh. Where do I even start. It's been quite a roller coaster of a weekend. Today was Easter, a very happy holiday by all accounts. Whether you are in it for the redemption or the chocolate, either way, its all good. But there was no joy in Mudville as they say, this morning in our house. 

It all started with Easter plans. One of the things I like about Easter traditions is the Easter Bonnet thing. You know, getting new clothes. I like clothes, what can I say. So I popped out to the mall before the weekend to get a few new things for the boys. The New Baby's Easter outfit was 75% hand-me-downs, which is all good, but the Little Dude has grown out of everything lately, so he needed new church pants, and I thought a cute new shirt would be in order too. Luck was with me and I found the perfect thing on the sale rack, so we were all set. I have a blouse in my cupboard that not only flattering, but is also breast feeding friendly, and when paired with a clothing-swap skirt would look like new, and Hubs has a plaid shirt we got at post Christmas sales that he's hardly worn, so we were good to go too. But looking around at my little family, I realized that the Little Dude is looking a bit too shaggy these days. He really does have magnificent hair - the curls that I spent my whole life wishing for have somehow shown up on my little boy - but its perhaps gotten a smidge too long, and is all wispy and flyaway lately, so I thought it best to make an appointment with the hairdresser for his first real cut. 

However, I was foiled. I put it off a bit too late, and there were no more appointments to be had. But luckily Hubs offered to do it. He's done a little bit of trimming on L.D. here and there before, so that'll work. Right?

Can you see where I am going with this?

It was the end of a long day on Saturday night, and Hubs decided to cut the Little Dude's hair while he took a bath. That way he'd be distracted and its easier to work with wet hair. Good plan. I went to put the New Baby to bed and left Hubs to it. Once the baby was down I had a quick peek into the bathroom where all was well, and then headed off to do some dishes and tidy the upstairs play room. Eventually I heard the water draining out of the tub and headed back down to the bathroom to see how it'd gone. 

It had not gone well.   (The carnage in the wastebasket)

I walked in and Hubs was tidying up the towels, and trying to cajole L.D. out of the bathtub. At least, I think it was L.D. He was responding to his name and seemed to think Hubs was his father, but who could say, as he was clearly A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CHILD!

It took me a minute. Oh. That must be my son. He sounds like my son. But he looks like LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE. Because he has VERY SHORT, curly red hair. 

Deep breaths. 

I know enough not to freak out in front of my child. So I helped him out of the tub and started to get his pyjamas on him. All the while shooting daggers out of my eyes at my husband. "Its a little short." I said, with great restraint. "Its not that easy to cut his hair. He's very squirmy" Hubs responded. "Well, maybe you should have stopped then." I said. "I tried to call you, didn't you hear me?" Asked Hubs. Obviously not. 

We got the Little Dude into his pyjamas, read a couple of stories and put him to bed. And then proceeded to have World War III in the living room. I was on the side of How Could You Have Butchered His Hair Like That? And Hubs was on the side of Why Are You Making Such A Big Deal About This? As you can imagine, a truce was not possible until some time later. We went to bed both sad and resigned, hoping for better things in the morning. After all, I only saw it wet. Maybe it would be better dry.

Hubs got up first, on hearing L.D. calling from his room, and took him to the potty. I also heard water running and the drawers opening and closing. Hubs was attempting to style his hair. I was afraid to go and look. Eventually I heard the Little Dude run off to play, and Hubs came back to our room. He sat on the edge of the bed. He look at me. And he said, "I'm sorry." Which are welcome words of course, but in this instance I knew that it meant that he now saw what I saw last night. Which was very. short. hair. I couldn't be angry any more, because now he was sad too, which somehow makes everything a little bit better. So, I got up, fed the Baby and went out to the kitchen to make waffles. Because in a situation like this, waffles are absolutely necessary. 

Anyhow, we got dressed and went to church, and nobody else seemed as upset about it as I was. I didn't go around telling people I was upset either, because that never helps. And he still looked really, really cute in his new shirt and little blazer and khaki pants. But look, here's how it used to look:  All gorgeous and golden with big springy ringlets that you could wind around your finger.

And here's how it looks now:
See? That is short. That is some short hair.

Here's a closer shot:

Here it is in the front:

So. Am I over reacting? Last night it seemed very, very bad. I had to call a friend and my sister to talk me down off the ledge before I even talked to Hubs about it (or else I think I would have said some bad, hurtful things), and I (wisely) decided not to blog that night, though I wrote a very angry post in my head. But it would have been a bad idea to post in anger. And both my friend and my sister and my mom said "Hair grows back." Which, though obviously true was of little comfort at the time. Because my baby's hair is gone. He cut my baby's hair. And it was not just a trim. It completely changes the character of his face. And its not that I'm upset because he looks more grown up. I know he's growing up. I encourage him to grow up. I empower him, and cheer him on when he does things on his own. I dress him in clothes that make him look like a boy, not a baby. I let him use hammers and dish up his own applesauce. I'm not trying to hold him back. Its just.... I don't know. It just really sucked to walk into the bathroom last night and see his beautiful hair cut away. 

We had a nice day though. There was happy music at church and Easter Eggs and cousins all afternoon. And after a whole day of seeing him with his new hair its starting to look familiar. Its starting to become him. And I'm starting to get over it.   And of course, its not bothering him in any way at all. For all he cares we could give him the same haircut as his uncle (seen on the right in the picture above) and he wouldn't bat an eyelash. So long as there is still sand in the sand box and grapes in the fridge he'll be a happy boy. I wish I could say the same. It'll grow back, right? It'll grow back.

argh

So I totally wanted to do a nice little post tonight, but then, just as I was about to get the New Baby ready for his bath, I put my back out. So, so crappy. It's been bugging me for a couple of days and I made an appointement with my chiropractor and my massage therapist, but due to the long weekend, neither of them could see me until next week. And I was just saying to Hubs that it was feeling a little bit better, and then BAM, I'm standing there wondering how I'm going to get the Baby off the changing table because I can't stand up straight, let alone lift up the baby. Anyhow, I managed to lift him up using only my arms and hobble over to the bathroom floor where I laid him down, and then laid down next to him (ah, cool tile floor, how I love you. Don't worry, the Baby was on the bath mat). Hubs was out picking up the Little Dude from GranGran's house, so we were all alone. I'd grabbed the phone on my way to the bathroom, so I called my mom, and she came straight over, God bless her cotton socks, as my friend Shawn would say. Probably passed Hubs on the way. Anyhow, she picked up the Baby and gave him his bath, while I got in a hot bath of my own, so my back could stop seizing. By the time she had him bathed, Hubs was home and got L.D. to bed, while my mom put the Baby to bed, and I continued to lick my wounds. Anyways, this is already way too long, as I can't really sit in this chair much longer. I'd told Hubs I was just going to come in here and write OW, OW, OW, CAN'T WRITE, BACK TOMORROW. But you know me, I'm never short of words. But I am short of pain tolerance tonight, so I'm off to bed. 

Hope you all have a Happy Easter weekend, whether you are celebrating or just enjoying some time off. Man, and I haven't even had time to dye easter eggs! Stupid back. 

fresh cut

So, do all two-year-olds insist on a personal vase of fresh cut flowers at their place on the table or is it just mine?

All right, I'm exaggerating a little. Its not like he's some mini J-Lo, demanding white lillies or something like that. But, if we've been outside that day and picked flowers and brought them inside and put them in a little vase, as we are prone to doing, he does insist that the vase be placed on the dinner table (along with his digger of course). And furthermore, he also insists that it is very near his place, so that they are conveniently close at hand when he wants to pick them up, lift them to his nose and take a big stagey sniff of them. Ahhh, fresh flowers! I know it snowed this morning, but you can't fool us, Spring, we know you're here!

sweet moments and harsh words

Though of course, those things do not go together. I'll start with the sweet moment. The New Baby is almost over his lingering jaundice, but the Little Dude, remembering our sunbathing in early days, pulled his nest of blankets in front of the window this morning and said "look mama, here's some be-yoo-ti-ful sunshine for the baby!" So even though it wasn't really that sunny, I took his cue and we all hunkered down for a little basking. I had the New Baby half dressed, and went to his room to get him some clothes, and when I came back the sight was so lovely that I had to get my camera.

Really, there are so many heart-melting moments these days that I'm not sure I even have individual ventricles in there anymore, as they might have all been replaced by a happy pile of goo instead. L.D. Actually lies next to him and looks into his eyes and say "I love you baby". I'm not making this up. Though this is the same kid who lately says to me "Mommy, I don't love you, I like you." I'm not sure what he means by this, so I tell him that I like him too, and I don't take it personally as he also says it to GranGran and Daddy. Go figure.

Anyhow, to accompany the rest of these lovely, though somewhat repetitive photos, I have a story about harsh words. The Little Dude has added a few new ones to his vocabulary. I fully realize that your child can only be as 'good' as you are, so any bad behavior he has at this point has been learned from someone, and usually those someones are the people he sees most often, a.k.a his parents. Therefore, he has learned that when he is sitting on my lap in front of the computer waiting for facebook videos of his cousins in B.C. to load up, that it is appropriate to say "COME ON" in a very annoyed tone when they are slow to start. Ahem. I feel bad about this one, because its totally my fault. Hello, Type A personality. I hate to wait that three seconds while a video loads or a program quits and since my computer is getting a little old, I have a tendency to chide it for its tardiness. But its not pleasant to hear my impatient tone come out of my two year old's mouth. Sigh. I've taught him to be impatient. That sucks. 

But he's also leaned some excited 'happy' exclamations. We've added "Holy Guacamole" (which he picked up from this story book) to our repertoire, as well as "Hokey Dynamo", which has my Dad written all over it. From my Mom he's mastered the Northern European "Accchh!", which I can't quite represent well with letters as it is a mostly guttural utterance that is intended to signify being throughly disgusted and completely fed up with something. He uses it when he has trouble getting a tricky bit of cereal to his mouth with an uncooperative spoon, and it ends up falling between him and the table and landing on his pyjamas. Ach! "Phooey" is also sometimes used in these circumstances. And was also learned from a book.

 But this morning, as he was struggling to make his little bear figurine fit inside a snug little sports car, I heard him pull out the big guns. First he just went with a predictable "COME On!", but after a few more seconds of effort to no avail, he finally said....

Crap. 

CRAP! CRAP? Where did he learn to say CRAP! I know, its not exactly one that would make the Pope blush, but coming out of the sweet lips of my cherubic curly haired toddler, its still a shock to me. And really, I've tried to be so careful! I've been an unabashed user of the more, er, colourful language in my pre-child past, and will admit to using it still (though only after bedtime and mostly when I'm tired). But I've tried so hard not to use it in front of L.D. because I know what a parrot he is. And I don't care what they show in the movies, there is nothing cute about a swearing child. At least not when its your child. Anyhow, I outwardly ignored it, so as not to give it any more power than it already has, but filed it away to tell hubs and ask him if he knew where the Little Dude got it. 

Then my parents came over for dinner. And the mystery was solved. As my Dad was heading out the door, after having gotten good-bye hugs from L.D., Hubs asked him if he'd remembered to bring the post hole digger along that he needed to borrow and my Dad slapped his forehead and said...

Crap.

Yep. Its not just plant lore that he's passing on to his grandson. I should have known. Don't get me wrong, he's not a 'hard' swearer. I've never heard him take the name of the Lord in vain, or drop the F-bomb, but he is known to say some colourful things. Its only a matter of time before my son tells me that the reason his toy car is broken is that it went down the stairs 'ass over teakettle' and 'Crap' is my Dad's polite version of 'Shit' so that one will certainly be coming down the pipe at some point too. Lets just hope that its not at Sunday School. 

planting

Today we had a sure sign of Spring. My Dad bought himself a flat of Pansies. As far back as I can remember that was one of the first things that got planted when the weather got nice. My Dad is a farmer, so you'd think he'd be all utilitarian with potatoes or some sort of early spring vegetable as his first planting. But flowers are his Art, so Pansies are what he uses to celebrate the changing season and the chance for the earth to renew itself again. 

Today he and my Mom showed up with a bucket of soil and a couple of containers of pansies for us so that we could enjoy some Spring too. He asked if the Little Dude would like to come outside and help him plant them, and boy, he didn't need to be asked twice. His face lit up and he headed for the door, with his special digging spoon and little rake and big digger in hand. And he proceeded to have the first (of many) lessons in planting stuff from Grandpapa.

First you've got to bust the little plants out of the flats that they come in, and inspect the root bundles. 

Get 'em lined up and ready to go.

Don't forget to admire and smell the flowers. "Byoooo-ti-ful flowers!" he proclaimed. 

Then take your trowel and make a hole in the soil.

Place the plant (root side down) into the hole you just made.

And gently but firmly tuck the soil in around the  base of the plant. The gesture that my Dad uses when he does this is so familiar and so completely imprinted on my brain as 'him'. They say eyes are the windows of the soul but for the 'doers' of this world the hands and their gestural life run a close second. 

The Little Dude did his best to learn the technique. Et voila! One lovely pot full of pansies. We'll take this one inside to enjoy. But we had three seedlings left, so we had to do something with them. 

And there is no shortage of empty garden space in which to put them. 

Grandpapa showed him how to rough up the soil and make it nice and soft.

We busted the last three seedlings out of their trays. 

By this time the Little Dude had a pretty good idea of what to do. 

And the last three little plants got tucked into their chilly new beds. 

That was it for the pansies, but the time outside was not over, not if the Little Dude had anything to say about it. And since my Dad has never met a weed he did not want to pull or a garden bed he did not want to tidy, they had plenty to do together. And not until dinner time could they be coaxed inside, even though hands were cold and cheeks were pink.

Its funny, I've been a mom for a couple of years ago, and there are still times when I am surprised to find myself completely in charge of two little people's entire lives. That is to say, I don't always feel like a mom. But one time I totally feel it is when I call my kid in for dinner. There is something so iconic about that moment, sliding open the screen door, calling out that supper is ready, that makes me feel, makes me know, I'm someone's mom. Perhaps its because I've been on the other end of that moment for so many of my formative years. Hearing my mom 'yoo hoo' for us after a long day of outdoor play, knowing that at the end of that 'yoo hoo' was hot delicious dinner, made by someone who loved us in a way that was so completely reliable and solid is truly a gift that has kept on giving in my life. And now I get to do that for someone else. Which makes up for all the poop and crying and sleeplessness. Its good. Its dinner time. 

weekend update

No, not the funny SNL one, just a little bit of what's going on around here. 

First of all, I'm really enjoying my new patchwork project. It started off as me being spontaneous, and deciding to just make a mini-quilt I could hang on my wall. I wanted to have something small and portable and satisfying that I didn't have to put a whole lot of time into, but would allow me to try out something new. So I went with triangles and just went to my fabric wall (yes I have a whole wall of fabric, more actually, but if this seems unusual to you, you obviously don't sew) and grabbed a few favourites and let 'er rip. It was very liberating. I just started to cut and sew and didn't over think it. But then I was having so much fun that I just kept cutting and cutting. And it kept getting bigger and bigger. And now its gone from a small wall-hanging to being a nice sized play mat for the new baby. I already have a quilted play mat that I made for when the Little Dude was a Little Baby, but I've decided to mount that on the wall in the New Baby's room, as a decor thing, but also as a sound deadener.   See? How fun is that? This is just what I've got sewn together so far, but there is much more to come. This design probably has a name, but I don't know what it is. If you do, let me know in the comments. I know its not 'housetop' because that is a radiating square, not a diamond, and its not made with triangles. And its not 'court house steps' because that's a log cabin variation. But its something like that. Anyhow, working from the middle outwards is very fun, and really lends itself to expansion. And I love using these bold prints in the vibrating complementaries. 

Even the teeny tiny scraps are pretty. 

Ok, next item; toddlers. The Little Dude is so talkative these days, and comes up with some really good stuff. Its just sort of a stream of consciousness/running commentary of his actions and thoughts. He likes to use the word "realized" lately. As in "Look mama, I found my big digger. It was under the table I realized!" Also today he was holding a wrench and trying to eat dinner at the same time, but it was awkward because he was using his less dominant hand to eat with and was having a bit of trouble.

"Why don't you switch your wrench and use your other hand to eat with?" I suggested

"Because this one is my playin' hand" he said pointing to the hand with the wrench.

"Oh, well what's that hand then?" I asked pointing to the opposite hand.

"That's my other playin' hand." he says. 

riiiight. 

Also, since we had the whole 'where milk comes from' conversation, we've been talking about how different kinds of food are made. There has been quite a bit of joking about juice, as Hubs told him that since milk came from cows, orange juice came from orange cows. He knows this is not true, but is a big old joke, and likes to yuk it up when they talk about it. I showed him how to make orange juice, by squeezing an orange, and lemon juice likewise, so today as we prepared dinner, he was milling around and talking about how he wanted some tomato juice, like we have at GranGran and Grandpapa's sometimes. And before we knew it he nabbed a half a tomato off the counter, went over to the other side of the counter where there was an empty casserole dish, and stood on tip-toe and squeezed the tomato into it so he could have tomato juice. It didn't really work, as he just ended up with a pile of tomato seeds in a dirty casserold dish, but I had to give him props for trying. 

Final item: how cute the New Baby is. We're not sick of him yet, and he's been around here for nearly two months now. Its official, we're keeping him ;) Anyhow, he's cute most of the time, but bath time is when he really shines (though any time he burps runs a close second. And sneezing is third. Really, both those things are ridiculously cute when you weigh around twelve pounds and have big chubby cheeks) Anyhow, here's what I mean.   That's what I'm talkin' bout.

He's got so much more eye focusing ability these days. And he's tracking alot too, as in following people and things with his eyes. 

Gotta love that see-through tub. 

The shampoo we use comes out of a pump bottle in mouse form, and every night when I squirt it onto his head I say "who ordered a baby with whipped topping?" And every night it makes me giggle. Yes, we're a simple people, and we like our little jokes.