GeauxBaby

Arts and Crafts

2012-02-13T10:02:00.000-08:00

So, I inhabit the world of Pinterest where everything is DIY-able and really cute at the same time. It's a lot of pressure. And you know what tomorrow is? Valentine's Day.

People go Craft Crazy for this holiday. To wit:

[image credit]
Idea: Buy candy bars and put custom wrappers on them.
With ribbons and handmade paper flowers.

Design*sponge suggests making 3-D Valentines.
I adore anything that involves cigar boxes.
(But the thought of this exhausts me.)
(And holy crap, what's inside?)

Ooh, I have a weakness for Oreos... [image credit]
But I'm not sure my red icing hearts would look even that good.

Do you see, though, how this gets out of control? Very much so, very quickly. So, what's a mom to do? I had already decided that I would have no guilt at all about not giving out Valentine's at Jack's school. He is not yet two (though we're careening toward his birthday -- eek!). He has no idea. His buddies have no idea. Valentine's for two year old are for the edification of the parents.

And I say that, but guess what I've spent the weekend doing? [brace yourself for a contradiction]

Yup. I sure did.

But, that's not actually true. I've been working on these for a while, ever since I realized that I would love to get all Tiny Prints up in here for cute photo Valentines but am *not* willing to spend the dollars on their insanely awesome products. So, I said to myself, self, what if you make endearingly simple ones for free?

You see, a few years ago, I started buying scrapbooking supplies before I faced the cold, hard, indisputable personal truth that I Am Not a Scrapbooker. That paper sure did come in handy, though.

Um, you can see that I stayed *minimal* with the design.
I was an English major, not an art major.

The clincher is on the inside.

Jack's super cool dude smiling face wished all of his teachers, buddies, and family a Super Cool Valentine's Day.

And he wishes you one, too.
Heather

Sick Days

2012-02-10T14:16:00.000-08:00

Earlier this week, Jack and I shared a sick day. He didn't feel good. I didn't feel good. We stayed home together.

For those of you without children, please HEED MY WORDS.

Enjoy your sick days. Enjoy them to the fullest.

I know that sounds like an oxymoron. (Duh, if I'm sick, I'm not enjoying it.) But you know what? You are and you just don't know it. Because when you are childless and home sick, you do things like sleep when you want, eat what you want, watch what you want, and lay comatose on the couch as long as you want.

You know what happens when you are home sick with a toddler? You make breakfast, snacks, and lunches. You get sippy cups with various beverages on demand. You watch more Nick Junior than you would like on even a *well* day. You get up to do things like change diapers, prepare meals (see above) and ensure that your child does not injure themselves, even a little.

Which led me to think that, in fact, it was Jack who was taking care of me the other day. Because he drove the agenda for our day with a relentless pace.

First, we drew.

Yes, that is the blanket I was *trying* to be sick under.
It may or may not be a Wonder Woman blanket.

Then we drew some more, though we were just about to be distracted by Yo Gabba Gabba. I was also distracted by that adorably chubby hand.

Also, please note that he's left-handed, LIKE HIS MOMMA.

Then we put all of his favorite things into the box.

Everybody, get in the box. Dee Dah, you're in charge of what happens in the box.

Then, we took his favorite things out of the box.

That's enough of that, team. Everybody, get out of the box.

You will note that our living room looked more and more like a toy store exploded in it as the day wore on. This is a testament to my (futile but consistent) attempts to *relax* and not clean up in cycles, as I do on normal days, like weekends or whatever. In truth, it probably took as much mental energy to stop myself from organizing and straightening as it did at the end of the day to clean up all the toys (with Jack's help, of course). Whatever. I tried.

We also counted to ten in English and Spanish. We napped (twice). We ate (me, a little; him, a lot). We drank water and juice. And as soon as Durel came home, I passed the parenting baton and promptly excused myself to go crash into the uninterrupted sleep that had eluded me all day.

And...you know you're a mom when even the day I've just described was actually fun, because you got to spend it with your Little Dude.

Here's hoping you contradict yourself (in a good way), this weekend.

Heather

My Day Job

2012-02-08T07:39:00.000-08:00

So, I spend a lot of time on this blog talking about how cute Jack is, how crafty I can be, how cute Jack is...

And that's all well and good (great, in fact), but there's a lot more to the story. I am a working mom. And that, my friends, is a big job. It's two big jobs. And if your house is even close to clean and you cook things sometimes, it's three big jobs. And if you count blogging, which I do, we're up to four.

Yesterday, this post from the hilarious and awesome Jill at Baby Rabies gave me pause. If you're a mom, or know a mom, or love a mom, you should read it.

Here's my favorite excerpt:

Moms, take off your armor. Smile kindly at one another. Offer grace and support. Know that every mom you meet, no matter how “perfect” she appears, is walking that same shaky tight rope right along with you. Take her hand, tell her it scares you, too. Tell her sometimes you fall.

And so, a quick snapshot of what I do "the rest of the time," when I am not with Little Dude, my awesome husband, cleaning, cooking, blogging, or sitting on the couch watching Big Love.

#1: Coffee. Aka, fuel.

#2: Work. Aka, work.

#3: Sparkling water. Aka, hydration and my newest raging addiction.

#4: A copy of the ABA journal flipped over that I've been using for a mouse pad for about six months.

#5: Wonder Woman and the Virgin of Guadalupe. Aka, my cheering section.

See this pic for proof that I love Scentsy, Michael Kors,
and inspirational running paraphernalia.

What am I getting at? Nothing. Other than that I love my life, all four jobs of it. Thanks for sharing.

Hope you love all your jobs, too. Because I know you have more than one.
Heather

Dizzying Speed

2012-02-06T14:46:00.000-08:00

How did we get from this:

to this?

With dizzying speed, that's how. I mean, wow.

Hope your day is full of flouride,
Heather

Friday

2012-02-03T07:35:00.000-08:00

Jack and I hope you have an awesome weekend, filled with naps, good eats, and football (if you care about that, which I don't, but you already knew that).

We also hope your weekend is free from annoying traffic that makes you want to punch and kick the sky. Like we had yesterday.

Take that! Hee-YAH!

Over and out,
Heather

Wildlife, Part Two

2012-02-01T12:30:00.000-08:00

So, the second reason that the San Antonio Zoo rocked our socks off the other weekend is this. Wait for it.

It has a petting zoo.

Yes, I am aware that lots of zoos have petting zoos, but this one was great. They have a variety of goats and pigs for the kids to pet. They have a zoo employee (who is good with children, natch) there to make sure everyone shares, plays nicely, etc. They have brushes for the kids to use as they get all lovey with the animals.

Did Jack like it? Pshaw.

I am touching two pigs right now!

Minds were blown. Pretty sure it was just normal business for the pigs, but they made Jack feel special.

Hey Pig, how's it going? How's your mom?

Me: Jack, can I have a smile?
Jack: Nooo. I am petting a pig.

Jack's love of goats is well documented. And the goats were a big hit, yet again.

When I grow up, I want to be a goat petter.

Hope your day is goat-a-riffic. And that you wash your hands after.

Heather

Wildlife, Part One

2012-01-26T12:59:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, Durel and Jack and I went to the San Antonio Zoo. To be honest, Durel and I have mixed emotions about zoos. It makes us sad to see all of those gorgeous wild animals locked up in captivity. In fact, we've visited a few zoos that we will not go back to because the habitats provided to the animals are just unacceptable to us. (Not pointing any fingers, but I'm looking at you, CityofHouston.)

No, we're not all Jack Hanna up in here, we just love AND RESPECT animals, and want Jack to do the same. So, a zoo has to be good. Guess what? The San Antonio Zoo is good.

[Stepping off soapbox]

Oh, what did we see, you ask? We saw a crazy cool grizzly bear with claws like WOAH.

We saw a Komodo dragon and then had a photo opp on a bronze one. Look at my handsome guys!

We saw, as Jack says, ELLIES!

Uh, can I stop posing now and look at the ELLIES?

For what it's worth, I was reminded during this trip that I am actually quite fond of ellies, too. So, I played with the camera a bit.

You guys, it was so much fun. FUN, I tell you. More pictures to come because, you know why? The SA Zoo has a petting zoo section.

Hold onto your hats. Or goats, as it were.

Heather

Jack Versus the Cheerios

2012-01-25T14:05:00.000-08:00

An epic battle is waged nearly every morning in our home. It is a battle of wills. It is a battle of whole grains and whole milk.

Jack Versus the Cheerios

Our hero prevails again. Toddler hunger over, well, whole grain just daring him to eat them.

Glad that our hero had a good breakfast.

Hope you did, too.

Heather

Make Way for Baby C!

2012-01-23T09:14:00.000-08:00

Earlier this month, I flew to DC to throw a super kicking (no pun intended) baby shower for one of my dearest besties, Kristina.

From the moment I landed, we were busy hamming it up.

The shower was at the home of another dear law school friend, Gina. She's a ham, too. (We hams stick together.)

As the sex of Baby C was unknown to the eager parents, the shower theme was sort of polka dotty and book-y. Because who doesn't love polka dots and books? Gina gets full credit for this amazeballs cupcake thing that she did. She's not even on Pinterest, people. She is just this awesome.

Kristina's wonderful, fantastic, brilliant and sassy sister, Anna, also ditched her college studies at Michigan to attend the party. So irresponsible, Anna! (I kid.)

Friends came. They brought presents.

Which ranged from useful and portable collegiate propaganda:

To useful and slightly cumbersome jumping paraphernalia:

The shower was not without its antics:

Or its share of sentiment:

Or its bump competition:

Suffice it to say, a good time was had by all. Including me. But, you know what? After living in Texas for years, it's DAMN COLD in DC in the winter.

But, I digress. Kristina and Jamie, we love you!

The Almost Two What's Up-Date

2012-01-19T08:53:00.000-08:00

The past few weeks have been CRAZYTOWN in these parts. I've been working my face off, as well as jetting off to our nation's capitol to fete one of my law school besties for the impending arrival of her little bundle of joy. I'm still wading through the pictures and memories of that trip to winnow them down for sharing.

In the meantime, I came home to a Full Grown Boy. Uh, where did my baby go? Perhaps the parade of onesies at the baby shower skewed (or focused) my perspective, but regardless, Jack's no baby. Full stop.

Which means that it's time for an update. Or, a what's up-date, from the Little Dude.

1. Hugs. Jack loves giving hugs. Especially to Lucy, who is officially the Most Patient Dog in the Universe. As he hugged her the other day, I noticed that he was gripping her in a way that two of his fingers were actually in one of her eyes. But, because she was receiving love, she was cool with it.

2. Breakfast. Jack eats three breakfasts a day. One at 6:30, which we call First Breakfast. (We're creative in the morning.) One in the car, at about 7:30. And then the actual breakfast he's served at school, at about 8:30. I keep thinking that one morning when I go to get him, he will be six feet tall. Stay tuned on that.

3. Fun. Jack's new favorite things to do are to jump and to spin in circles until he falls down. Good times.

4. Style. Jack officially brings it in the style department. Thanks, Christine, for this cool shirt to assist with the dapperness.

Hope you're rocking a cool shirt today,
Heather

Top Tens

2012-01-13T05:09:00.000-08:00

I'm off to DC for the long weekend to help one of my dearest friends in the universe celebrate the impending arrival of her first baby. I am co-hostess, and you know I brought the Pinterest to this party. I'll be back with stories and pictures.

For now, seeing my friend on the verge of this massive life change makes me want to make lists. (Don't judge. You already knew I was Type A.)

Top 10 things you don't get to do once you have a baby

1. Sleep in.

Source: fromdatestodiapers.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

2. Run out of milk.

3. Run "quick errands."

4. Curse.

5. Turn your cellphone off.

6. Stroll stylishly.

Source: google.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

7. Put off doing the laundry.

8. Have disposable income.

9. Drink to excess.

10. Deal with only the poop that you yourself generate.

Top 10 things you do instead, because you have a baby

1. Get over being squeamish.

2. Get over sleep.

3. Learn to love coffee, if you didn't already.

Source: narcyzagambier.tumblr.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

4. Learn to depend on coffee, if you didn't already.

5. Say, "Yay!" and clap your hands a lot.

6. Start buying absolutely everything you need for life at Target.

7. Feel a new kind of love that you never realized was possible.

8. Feel a new kind of fear that you never realized was possible.

9. Stare at someone while they're sleeping. (Ideally, your baby.)

10. Become utterly devoted to the safety and happiness of another human being.

It's going to be awesome, K and J. Really and truly.

And I meant it about the coffee.

Heather

Sconey McSconerson

2012-01-11T05:49:00.000-08:00

Jack says:

My favorite part of the day is when mom drives through Starbucks and gets herself coffee (yuck, but she loves it) and me a SCONE!

Make somebody buy you a scone today.

Heather (and Jack)

Crafty Crafterson, Part Two

2012-01-10T06:21:00.000-08:00

Durel and I both come from families of serious dog-loving people. Our canine buddies are indispensable parts of our families. Love them and their furry little selves to bits.

This means that it made perfect sense for me to undertake a homemade doggie gift for Christmas this year. As I contemplated the gift boxes that I would be sending to my siblings and the presents I would be giving in person, I thought it would be *so cool* to also have a present for the dogs! Pinterest was more than happy to oblige this thought, as Pinterest is so helpful that way. I decided to make adorable little jars of dog biscuits. And I was off.

Homemade Dog Biscuits

The recipe I chose was simple. I had perused some that had longer lists of ingredients, but ultimately just went with what sounded good and delish.

1 cup oats
2/3 cup peanut butter
2 cups flour
1 cup hot water

Mix. Knead into dough. Roll out. Cut with cookie cutters. Bake at 375 degrees for 20-30 minutes. Keep an eye on them. Let cool. (If you want to get fancy, brush the tops with an egg wash before baking.)

I tinkered with the ratios a bit. I found that I needed more hot water to get the dough to a good consistency, and then I floured the hell out of my rolling surface as I rolled out the dough. That's just what worked for me. The recipe I found said to bake these for 45 minutes, which would have been far too long for me. Perhaps I rolled my dough thinner than they did - who knows? Long story short, these are easy. When the dough is doughy, you're good. When they look done, they are.

Here is the problem that I encountered with this situation. If you plan to make jars of homemade dog biscuits for a lot of people, that is a lot of biscuits. If you need to make a lot of biscuits, that takes a lot of time. If you are me, you do not realize this until you are way too far in to stop.

The dogs that benefit from my diligence are, in no particular order: Zooey and Oscar (Delaware); Schatzi (Albuquerque); Louie and Charlie (Austin); Honey (Austin); Britney (Austin), and Pablo and Lucy (my house). Pablo and Lucy weren't even supposed to receive these, per se, but they got the slightly burnt or misshapen ones, which they think taste just fine.

Zooey and Oscar are big dogs, so they got big bones. My dogs are big, and they are eating the detritus. The rest of these dogs, all five of them, are small. That means I made small biscuits. That means I cut more shapes, moved more dough, spatula-ed more little bones to the cooling rack. Can you tell this was time-consuming?

End rant.

To finish the project:
-- Buy cute jars.
-- Buy cute ribbon.
-- Assemble.
-- Make your doggie friends very happy.

Wag wag to all the good things,
Heather

Date night

2012-01-09T13:28:00.000-08:00

You know what happens when two people who *never* get a babysitter actually get a babysitter and go to a party?

They have fun.

Thanks, M & P. You rock.

Heather

2012

2012-01-08T07:14:00.000-08:00

I've been trying to write this post for a week.

I'm just going to keep it simple.

Here's my plan for 2012.

Love.

I am tired of being "too busy" to spend meaningful time with the people that I love. I've scaled back on my volunteer commitments -- I will return to an active community engagement later. For now, I have Jack and Durel and my parents and my dear friends to love. Doing that makes my heart full.

Read.

I like reading books. I am going to read more of them. I like reading blogs. I am not going to read more of them, per se, but I am going to focus on following my favorites, leaving good comments, and being a good participant in the bloggy world that I have come to love so much. (Thanks, Twitter.)

Write.

I love my blogs. I am going to keep doing them. Also, I'm probably going to change them. As I grow as a writer and blogger, the blogs grow, too. Stay tuned. I am so happy that I write on a daily basis. Because that's all I've ever wanted to do since I was a child. Truth.

Run.

The 3M half marathon is on January 29th. I won't be there. I'm not ready. Honestly, I have been too over-committed to train properly. But, I am delighted to say that I will be at the Zooma half marathon on March 31st. With two of my dear friends, I might add. I am making time to train, and so are they, and it's awesome. (Refer to #1. This is quality time with friends. Rock on.)

Be.

I'm cooking healthy food. I am getting more sleep. I am drinking more water. I am being more present in each moment. I am "being" well. And, hard as it can be, I am being honest. With my time, my commitments, and myself.

2012, I like you.

Hope you like it, too.

Heather

Crafty Crafterson, Part One

2012-01-06T09:22:00.000-08:00

I'm not exactly sure how I decided to make all of our Christmas presents this year. I think I would describe it as the perfect storm of revived frugality, a raging Pinterest addiction, and sheer, Type A determination. Because, you know, it's not like I have a lot of free time, or ever have the luxury of getting too much sleep or feeling "bored." No, it's not that I needed to fill my idle time with crafts. I just ... well, I just decided it was a good idea.

Durel, of course, was on board. He is infinitely supportive of my ideas, which range from ambitious to impossible to wacky. He is supportive of them, I believe, because it's important to be supportive of your spouse; because he is frequently impressed with what I manage to do/create/pull off; and because he was excited that my toil over our Christmas gifts was, to say the least, financially sound. He is a good partner.

That said, here's part one of me getting all Crafty Crafterson.

1. Homemade vanilla extract.

This was fun and super easy. I had in mind a specific way that I wanted the end product to look, so I found this amazing website to order bottles from. I bought cute, preppyish, holiday ribbon from Michaels. I bought vanilla beans en masse from a spice dealer in New York (thank you, Amazon). I used...wait for it...vodka. And some brandy. Because what isn't better with brandy?

The "recipe" goes like this:
-- Open jar.
-- Slice vanilla bean open, lengthwise.
-- Put vanilla bean in jar.
-- Pour vodka in jar.
-- Add splash of brandy.
-- Put lid on jar.

-- Let sit in dark place for about a month.
-- Decorate.

-- Give.

The up side to this gift is that it's yummy and everyone uses it. And it's cute and easy to give. And relatively gender neutral. (The few dudes that I gave it to were appropriately psyched.) The other up side to this gift is that it is handmade, which is cool, and totally affordable. I am not sure I'm going to repeat it anytime soon, though, because I have to be realistic about how quickly people use vanilla. I don't know. If people start telling me that they've run out and how great it is, I'll definitely do it again.

2. Wine Cork Monograms

This was super fun and pretty easy. (Nothing is quite as easy as pouring vodka into a jar.) Durel and I have been saving our wine corks for a looooooooong time (before you ask any questions). We intended to take them to a local store for recycling, but as my Pinterest addiction gathered steam, I realized that I could, like, *do stuff* with them.

I decided to make wine cork monograms for a few friends and family members. You can use them as a trivet, hang them on the wall, hang them on the wall and use them as a noteboard, whatever you want.

This project was noteworthy for me because it required me to buy a hot glue gun. In all my life, I've never owned a hot glue gun. As such, I thought they were much fancier and more expensive than they actually are. Anyway, here the supplies:

-- hot glue gun
-- wooden letter thing (lots of variety at Hobby Lobby, FYI)
-- lots of wine corks
-- hanging thing to stick on the back so it can be hung on the wall (also from Hobby Lobby)

And here's how it went down:

1. Lay corks out on letter. Save the "good corks" for the outside edges. It's also a good idea to alternate the red end and the not red end for the overall look of the thing.

2. Open glue gun. Realize how easy it is to use. Realize how many corks this project will require. Open bottle of wine. Start drinking.

3. Start gluing. It's a good idea to put a strip of glue lengthwise down the side of each (or every other) cork, as well as putting glue on the bottom. This will ensure the corks stick to the letter, but also to one another, which makes the entire thing sturdier.

4. Let cool and dry.
5. Give.

I, um, forgot to take a picture of the finished products before I sent them off. But, they looked like this, I promise.

Source: greenisuniversal-reuse.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

Or, actually, more like this because I did the trick of flipping the occasional red wine cork for styling purposes.

Source: elephantstrunkllb.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

I've got to say, these were a huge hit. But because of the unprecedented number of corks required, I only made two -- which were given to two of my brothers-in-law. In fact, I have another wooden letter waiting in the wings for someone's birthday or something, or when I have amassed enough corks to start gluing again. This is a craft I will definitely repeat!

Okay, so that's part one. Thoughts? Feelings? Gift requests for Christmas 2012?

Ho ho ho,
Crafty Crafterson

Christmas Toddler Frenzy

2012-01-05T08:33:00.000-08:00

It is high time for a Christmas update from Jack land. Why? Because it's now 2012 and I have *new* things to say. About me, about my new year's resolutions, about everything. Stay tuned; those things are coming. Right now, it's all about Christmas 2011.

So, Jack LURVED Christmas. And we loved Jack loving Christmas. And Grammy, Pop, Nonna, and PapaDu, and Geri and Uncle (Dustin) loved Jack loving Christmas. It was a veritable toddler frenzy of awesomeness.

That awesomeness led to these pics. And I'm not going to lie, taking pictures was so not my priority. Enjoying the moment was my priority! So, this is what I got when, in the throes of enjoying the moment, I also snapped a picture:

Unwrapping frenzy.

Car toy frenzy.

Tricycle frenzy. (And for Pablo, a tail wagging frenzy.)

T-Rex/New Pajama frenzy.

Whoville Impersonation.

(Because, the red eyes make him look even more like Cindy Lou Who, right?)

Even though Jack doesn't grasp the concept of Christmas yet, or the concept of Santa Claus yet, he knows that it's fun to have his family together. He knows that it's fun to open presents. He knows that everyone was happy and the spirit was festive. He knows that he got some ~~cool-ass~~ (sorry, some seriously biscuit) toys to play with. And that he'd like to do it again, say, next year around this time?

I'm in. Until next year, Christmas. It's been fun.

Heather

Dapper

2012-01-04T14:45:00.000-08:00

We started off the holiday festivities this year with a Christmas Eve Eve dinner graciously hosted by my parents. Let's just say that it involved wine and pie and it was lovely. And that we dressed up for it. All of us.

You can't see Dee Dah's bow tie, but trust me, it was there. (Not really, but in Jack's mind it was.)

Hope you dazzled someone with your holiday duds, too,

Heather

Horsey!

2011-12-30T07:41:00.000-08:00

OK, so I got all kinds of deep yesterday. But seriously, if you haven't watched those videos, do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Go watch them now. I'll wait.

[waiting]

Pretty awesome, right? I told you so. (And I'm not one to say that.) (Yes, I am. Nevermind.)

That means today will take us from the sublime to the ... well, ridiculous. Because Jack is now a seasoned horseback rider.

Thank you, Aunt Cherry and Aunt Hollace for the new addition to Jack's little brood, aptly named "Neigh Neigh"!

As you can see by this (bad) picture, taken by the low light of the Christmas tree, they are getting along famously.

I mean, I love to wear a rugby shirt and chill by the Christmas tree with my new friend. Especially if that friend sparks my imagination and makes me look hella cute when we're photographed together. You know?

Hope you have a buddy to enjoy this New Year's Eve with,
Heather

A New Year

2011-12-29T09:02:00.000-08:00

Ben Breedlove was a teenager in Austin, Texas who made this video (two parts). He died on Christmas Day. His parents found the video afterward. His story was featured on the Today show.

I've started thinking seriously about my goals and commitments for this coming new year. Seeing Ben's video touches my heart and makes me think about them with more gratitude and focus.

It's resolution time. And life time.

Heather

Breakfast Buddies

2011-12-28T12:03:00.000-08:00

Jack has been in the same school since I returned to work after maternity leave. As a result, he's grown up with a handful of best buddies who have done the same. It makes my heart happy every day to see him greeting Gabe, Linley, Eli, Mac, and Jazmin, among others.

As luck would have it, Gabe recently became a big brother. (Yay to Gabe and his awesome parents!) And as fate would have it, Gabe's little sis decided to come late in the evening on the night before she was to be coaxed out into the world, aka, induced. She knew she was being evicted, that is.

So, Gabe's parents dropped him off at Casa de Jack so they could rush off to the hospital and become a family of four. Jack and Gabe were in for a pleasant surprise the next morning, when they realized they'd just had their first sleepover! We hooked them up with yogurt and sippies of milk and let the fun ensue.

Gabe! Gabe is here, Momma!

WAY too excited to eat breakfast. Seriously, this is so cool!

After the pure adorableness of breakfast, imagine our delight when we realized that Gabe's momma had carefully packed an outfit for him that included the Very Same Shirt we had just bought for Jack! As we dressed them (divide and conquer, also known as man-to-man defense), I hollered upstairs to Durel to put Jack in the same shirt. Because I think I'm funny like that.

Thing 1 and Thing 2?

I am happy to report that Gabe and his *entire* family are doing great. Jack wants Gabe to come over for another sleepover soon. And I think breakfast with a best buddy is one of the best things in the world.

Hope you do, too,

Heather

Oh, Christmas Tree...

2011-12-27T12:20:00.000-08:00

We did it! Jack's second Christmas was a fabulous success. Gifts, pie, family time, cocktails, and happiness were shared by all. I didn't take nearly enough pictures, but the ones I did take are stacking up to be shared. More to come; promise.

As I mentioned, we rocked it out with two trees at our house this year. And while the kitchen tree featured our "hobbies," The Saints and Vegetables, the big tree in the living room was a hodge podge of ornaments that reflect our families, our childhoods, and our shared experiences as a family.

Sure, I see Christmas trees that are symmetrical, themed, and pristine. And I think they're cool. And I have the fleeting thought that our tree should be like that. And then I remember our cool ornaments and how personal they are, and I perish the thought of changing anything about how we decorate for Christmas. Which is all about family, you know...

Cristy's handmade felt ornament, an homage to our new home state.

A gift from my mom, to commemorate the year we got married, and our first home.
Our rental house even had a red door!

Ornament handmade by my Grandma B. during the Great Depression.
Not even kidding. Times were tough. Sequins and pins, people.

Handmade ceramic ornament from Jenny to honor
Pablo's first Christmas with us!

Our tree, 2011.

Pretty cool, huh? I love it. It's a reflection of us. And, you know, as Type A as I am every.single.day of the year, I can go a little bit crazy on my Christmas tree.

And no, I don't for a minute think that's really "going crazy."

Just joshin' ya. Hope your trees reflect who you are, too.

Heather

Red Alert

2011-12-22T08:03:00.000-08:00

Santa came to visit Jack's school this year. He obligingly posed with all the kiddos for their individual pictures with Santa.

Only, it wasn't really Santa. It was a mere mortal who probably buys Alleve by the truckload to help him recover from his blinding headaches, which are brought on by the non-stop screaming and wailing of toddlers who don't want any part of this exercise, thankyouverymuch.

I commend Jack's school for attempting this, and thank them for providing me with this picture, which will prove extremely handy in mortifying Jack in front of his first girlfriend when he's a teenager.

Because Santa or no Santa, you've got to think ahead.
Heather

Caption Contest Winner!

2011-12-21T10:52:00.000-08:00

Here it is, by "Unknown," who I sure wish would identify themself.

Thanks for capturing the je ne sais quois of the hat and chicken finger combo, Unknown. You hit the nail on the head.

Yo mama! These chicken fingers are totally dope!

Hope your day is dope,

Heather

Every Day I'm Cuddlin'

2011-12-20T08:26:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, I had the much-needed chance to bake cookies, drink champagne, and hang out with some fabulous friends. It rocked.

One of these fabulous women also brought her fabulous son with her to hang out. He did pretty well, since all the cookie baking ladies save one are mamas. There was no shortage of arms to hold him, let's put it that way.

He and I totally bonded.

Talking things over. I was telling him how awesome life is when you get more teeth.
He listened politely.

Me with my new buddy.

Failed attempt at self-portrait.

In fact, we had such a good time with our pal, our cookies, and our champagne, that I have no other pictures of the evening. (Promise.)

Hope you have such a good time this week that you forget to take pictures,

Heather

5K

2011-12-19T12:28:00.000-08:00

Completing a half marathon has been a personal goal of mine for years. About a year ago, I decided that it was time to make it happen. I chose the 3M Half-Marathon in Austin on January 29, 2012. And then, I did nothing.

My time for a year long training plan passed me by. My time for a six-month long training plan also passed by. What was left? A 12 week training plan. Sure, it sounds short, but considering that 12 weeks is also the amount of time I had to figure out life with a newborn before returning to work, it seems more doable. I already *know* how to run. I did not know how to swaddle, diaper, or handle a blow out (veeery different than just changing a diaper. Veeery). Regardless, I'm a quick learner.

Last Sunday, my training plan required me to do a 5K. No big deal, right? It's 3.1 measly miles. But it was also the first race I had run in over 2 years. The first race since Jack was born. And a race that was actually prescribed to me by my training program. I also happened to be recovering from bronchitis.

So, what happened?

I rocked it. And it was clearly as much a mental victory as a physical one. And no, I'm not telling you my time because it was slow as molasses going uphill in January. But you know what? I wasn't last. I wasn't even in the last group of people to finish. I was about halfway. And to me, that's super awesome victory.

Zoom zoom,

Heather

Caption Contest!

2011-12-15T07:10:00.000-08:00

Caption this picture of happy Jack!

What will you win: My wholehearted appreciation and lifelong devotion. (I don't have any extra iPads laying around to give away. Sorry.)

Why: Because, this picture is begging for it.

Ready? Set? Go!

Shirtless

2011-12-14T11:29:00.000-08:00

Last night, Jack decided that he wanted to enjoy his dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and corn, without his shirt on.

It struck both Durel and I as funny. It's pretty down home behavior. And so, we immediately looked at one another to blame it on the genetic material of the other one. We like to tease one another for the cultural underbellies that each of our home states has.

Me: It's like we're in Louisiana...

Durel: It's like we're in Maryland...

Jack: [I don't care where we are, so long as there's chicken, potatoes, and my shirt is off.]

I hope you don't care where you are today,
Heather

Christmas is Coming

2011-12-06T07:17:00.000-08:00

We're going big this year for Christmas. How big, you say? Two trees, I say.

We've put up the first one. It's small, and in the kitchen. And it has a theme.

Geaux Saints and Eat Your Veggies

Granted, it isn't a connection that readily comes to mind. When I think about New Orleans, I do think about food, but more of the breaded and fried variety. However, this combination makes sense if you think about it. It represents two of our passions as a household: The Saints (Durel) and food (me).

And, it's a pretty cool tree. Here's a sample:

May your day be merry and bright (and have some veggies in it?),

Heather

Writing in Books

2011-12-01T07:10:00.000-08:00

As many of you know, I am utterly, hopelessly smitten with and addicted to Pinterest. I pin fashion ideas, pictures I love, recipes, decorating ideas, crafty crafts, baby things, toddler things, you name it. Oh, the things you'll pin!

Months ago, I pinned this image.

Source: lisasworkshop.blogspot.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

It was accompanied by this idea:

Buy this book, then at the end of each school year have your child's teachers, coaches or other important mentors sign it or write notes in it. Give it to them upon HS graduation. Love it.

Well, damn. That is a great idea. I decided instantly that I would do it. (Lest you give me too much credit, when you're addicted to Pinterest, you "instantly decide" to do a lot lot lot of things. Whether you actually do them? Remains to be seen.)

However, my brain kept percolating about this idea. I kept thinking what a great book it is. And how often I've given it as a graduation gift over the years. And how it contains Totally Awesome Nuggets of Life Wisdom, like this one:

So, lo and behold, I managed to get over the one hurdle to accomplishing this (ahem). I bought the book. I sat down to figure out the best way to present it to the teachers at Jack's daycare, and decided that if I was asking them to write in a book, then I might as well start things off.

Here's what I said:

I took it to daycare the next day, excited but slightly apprehensive about the response I would get. Look, I try hard to forge good relationships with Jack's teachers. And for the overwhelmingly large part, I have been very successful. And I do believe that they really love Jack. But what if they thought this idea was weird? Or what if they wrote things like, "Best wishes, Love, X?"

I shouldn't have worried. As the book was passed from teacher to teacher, per my request, the buzz amongst them was very real. They were so excited with the project. They were excited to see who would get the book next. They very diligently thought over their messages, wrote them, and shared the book. When they were finished (I've now caught up with every teacher Jack has had thus far in his life; not too shabby), they gave it back.

I took it home like a yearbook that's been circulating. What will they say? Do they like me? What did they write?

Out of respect for the fact that their messages were to Jack, I won't share them. But, y'all. (I've lived in Texas for a decade. It happens. If you didn't catch that, nevermind.) Y'ALL. Tears. They wrote the sweetest things. They love Jack so much. Their sentiments were poetic, sincere, loving, aspirational, and totally moving.

I would never wish for the precious time of Jack's life to pass more quickly. And I love his current teachers, so will have serious mama heartburn when he gets promoted to the next classroom. But on the other hand, I am so excited to see what his future teachers will write, as he grows, learns, speaks in sentences, pees in the potty. And, for that matter, as they held to shape him into the Little Dude he is.

It's big stuff. All you mamas out there, I can't recommend this highly enough.

And, as if we hadn't enough proof of Dr. Seuss's awesomeness, there is a sentiment for just how this made me feel.

Source: Uploaded by user via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

Smiling. For sure,
Heather

The Cute Spectrum

2011-11-29T13:05:00.000-08:00

My third grade school picture is really bad. Not in that way where I'm still cute but it was an awkward moment. As in, that way where you question whether my parents displayed the photo in their home, or kept my second grade photo up for two years. (They did the latter, as I recall.)

They do "school pictures" at Jack's daycare, which I find funny. Not because I don't consider it a school, because I do and it is. But because, well...they're still babies. I mean -- Jack's a toddler, yes. He is no longer an infant. But he's still at the age where it's acceptable to count his age in months. And he doesn't have extracurricular activities, unless he's the president of some Yo Gabba Gabba club or Pooping Your Pants club that I don't know about.

Anyway, here are the proofs:

Who are you and why are you taking my picture?

Are you sure I should be sitting in these fake leaves?

Is this cute enough to make you stop?

I'm pretty sure I am going to purchase a few prints of that last one. I mean, the one in which he looks like an (almost ginger, by the way) Irish hooligan whose soccer team just lost the game.

Does that mean they're all headed down the pub for sippies of milk?

I bet it does,

Heather

Thanksgiving by the Numbers

2011-11-28T11:57:00.000-08:00

Turkeys I cooked this year for Thanksgiving: 0

Turkeys I purchased from Central Market to reheat and serve: 1

Ranking of the quality of that turkey, on a scale of 1 to 10: 10

Number of pictures I took this Thanksgiving: 0

Number of pies I baked this Thanksgiving: 5 (4 pumpkin; 1 cherry)

Number of large pieces of pumpkin pie Jack ate in one sitting: 2

Number of pieces he would have eaten if we hadn't cut him off: Unknown

Number of guests we had for Thanksgiving: 5 (Grammy, Pop, Cristy, Dagwood, and Schatzi, their adorable dog)

Number of nicknames we considered for Cristy: 1. She is now known to Jack as "Kiki."

Number of nicknames we considered for Dagwood: 0. Jack has, practically enough, simply shortened his name to "Dag."

Number of books read to Jack by Dag and Pop this weekend: Unknown.

Photo by Dag. Because I didn't take any, remember?

Hope your Thanksgiving numbers are off the charts, too.

Heather

Relaxed

2011-11-21T07:49:00.000-08:00

If you look up relaxed in the dictionary, this is what you will see after this weekend:

Little Dude and Durel hung out with Nonna and PapaDu at their cool new house this weekend while I was a whirlwind of activity, volunteering at the Junior League of Austin's Christmas Affair, and hosting a pre-baby party for a dear friend.

While I was a dervish of holiday and hostess-ness, the dudes chilled out, sucked thumbs, held spoons, and watched football.

Good times were had by all.

Here's to a short week,

Heather

Learning As I Go

2011-11-18T09:36:00.000-08:00

The playground in our neighborhood is Jack's new favorite thing. Each time we pass it in the jogging stroller, he starts pointing and gesturing wildly, while repeating, "SLY? SLY?" (That means "slide.") So, we stop and slide. And it is awesome.

The other option would be to tell him that we'll come back to the playground later. That we don't have time to play right now. That Mamma needs to check her email/make dinner/do a few things in the house.

You know what? That option is a big biscuit.

Because my heart already aches with how quickly Jack is becoming a big boy. And I know there will come a time when hanging out with Mom is the last thing he wants to do and that playground is for "babies." And when that time comes, I do not want to regret the days that he wanted to slide and I told him I had to check my email instead.

Just sayin.'

Source: murraymitchell.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

Have a fabulous weekend,

Heather

Cead Mile Failte

2011-11-17T07:39:00.000-08:00

In Irish, cead mile failte means, literally, one hundred thousand blessings. It's a common way to say hello or welcome. Oh, and it's pronounced like this: SEED MEAL FAIL-chuh.

As some of you know, I lived in Galway, Ireland for my junior year of college. I took a leave of absence from my college and attended University College Galway (now known as the National University of Ireland) as a visiting student. I booked my own plane ticket; registered for my own classes, and found my own place to live. For the year, I shared a flat with two Irish women and another visiting student from Spain. Good stuff.

The main quad at NUI Galway.
To be fair, most of my classes were in a more modern building across campus.
However, the student bar was located in this building. That's right.
The student bar in the quad built in the 13th century. Awesome.

While there, I fell in love with my heritage and the Irish country and people. I took about half a semester of Gaelic (I can still count to ten in Irish) and traveled as much as possible, while taking the full Irish course load of ten classes per semester. Yes, you read that right. There was no slacking off on my part! (Once an overachiever...)

Downtown Galway. Image credit

I am tremendously proud of my Irish heritage. I look forward to teaching Jack to be proud of it, as well. One of the joys of parenthood comes in the non-stop realizations of things you get to teach these awesome little people. For me, today's epiphany is heritage. And that rocks.

This Gaelic lesson has been brought to you by my Irish heritage, and my little leprechaun.

Top of the morning to ya,
Heather

Dee-Da

2011-11-15T08:23:00.000-08:00

Back before I knew anything about having children, I was of the opinion that you could "get around" a child having a lovie. I thought that if a child had several stuffed animals, blankets, etc., that they loved, then you could avoid the red hot panic of losing, forgetting, or misplacing One Particular Thing. I went so far as to presume that might be good for a child. Who needs a lovie, anyway?

Um, yeah.

I have been rewarded for this uber-rational but utterly unrealistic line of thinking with a child who has a lovie. Just one. And it's mandatory. He really doesn't go from one room to another without it. And perish the thought that he could sleep without it. That's just crazytalk.

World, meet Dee-Da.

All images courtesy of the brilliant and talented Betsy Peticolas.

Obviously, DeeDa is a dog. DeeDa is named after Jack's phase of babbling and labeling everything as "deedah." Even after the words started to come, his black and white dog buddy retained the name.

To Jack, DeeDa makes everything better. He's like Hobbes to Jack's Calvin. Adventures are best undertaken with a truly awesome sidekick.

Hope you all have awesome sidekicks today,
Heather

Dating

2011-11-14T18:39:00.000-08:00

Yup, he's already dating.

Jack has excellent taste in girls. Linley dresses well, gives good hugs, and rocks the best pigtails in the competitive under two set in Austin.

As an added bonus, neither of them seemed to mind that *both* moms accompanied them on their dinner outing.

Hey, someone had to drive. And refill the sippy cups.

They grow up so fast, don't they?

Heather

Wordless Wednesday

2011-11-09T08:19:00.000-08:00

(Photo by the smart and talented Betsy Peticolas)

Take that, ovaries.
Heather

Pho

2011-11-07T11:22:00.000-08:00

Durel and I love pho. We could eat it every day.

[Quick side note: Pho is a Vietnamese noodle soup. It is magically delicious.]

Yesterday, we were feeling lazy and like eating huge bowls of soup. So, we got pho. As we sat around the table, lunching, we gave Jack some.

First, we gave him some noodles in his bowl. That went pretty well, which is amazing, because he doesn't like pasta. I stand corrected. He *likes* rice noodles. He has a discriminating palate.

Then, since that was going so well, I gave him some of the soup in a cup.

What is this stuff? [Note the noodles on his face, arm, the table...]

You guys have been holding out on me! This is GOOD!

More! Get in my cuppy!

I'm not gonna lie. I was kind of amazed that he liked it. Yes, it's delicious. And yes, he eats like crazy, and enjoys most everything. But to see my 20 month old Little Dude slurping down beef pho like it was, well, totally delicious, blew a little bit of my mind.

What's next? Sushi. (Not kidding.)

Hope your weeks are filled with yummy soup,

Heather

Halloween

2011-11-02T08:49:00.000-07:00

Durel, Jack, and I took a pass on Halloween this year.

What? But you guys love Halloween!

We do love Halloween. And Durel and I have outdone ourselves with costumes in the past. But this year, things were different.

This year was the first year in several that Durel didn't have a huge work event at Halloween.

This year, Jack was under the weather for Halloween.

This year, I am crazy busy at work.

So, collectively, we decided to take a pass.

How did that make us feel? I was probably the saddest of the bunch. I really enjoy the Halloween party at Jack's school, and was sad that he missed the chance to parade with his buddies past all of the baby rooms (where he used to be) in his "big boy" costume.

To symbolize both how sad I felt and how inappropriate it would have been to try and make Sicko enjoy this holiday, I provide the following:

And I had asked him to smile.

Hope your Halloween was terrorific,

Heather

It's November First!

2011-11-01T08:45:00.000-07:00

This means several very important things to me.

It means the red Starbucks cups are here! (Look. I love coffee and Christmas. This is the two, combined.)

It means that I can start listening to Christmas music!

It means that it's time for me to start planning my Thanksgiving feast!

It also means that, like it or not, decorations will start popping up everywhere. In Texas, it looks more like this:

than like this:

But I still love it.

Happy {my favorite month} November!
Heather

Indulging the Momma

2011-10-27T08:07:00.000-07:00

It's time for me to start planning Jack's second birthday party. (No, it's not really time. His birthday is in March. But when you read lots of mom blogs and are on Pinterest with amazingly creative ideas hitting you in the face, like, nonstop, it becomes time to ponder these things.)

Last week, I had this crazy idea of an eighties themed party. I could just picture Jack and all his little buddies with their polo shirts on, perhaps even doubled, with collars popped, while the adults relaxed and listened to Duran Duran and the Go-Gos.

I was toying with the idea of Rubik's Cubes as favors. I had yet to fully harness the creative power of the idea.

My rationale was this: This is officially the last birthday party where he won't really notice of care what the theme is. Therefore, I can choose a theme that *I* find entertaining, and hope he's not too embarrassed by it when he's a teenager. But really, not even that last one. He'll be embarrassed of us as a teenager, no matter what we do.

I breezily threw out the idea of an eighties party to Durel. He promptly nixed it. He just sort of looked at me like I'd been possessed by a mildly confusing Pinterest addict and said, "Heather, he likes dinosaurs."

Oh, yeah.

So, before I throw myself into planning the Second Birthday Party for Little Dude, I'm indulging myself in a wee walk down memory lane. Because I can't believe how quickly time flies. Or how many diapers this means we've changed.

All I need is this bouncy chair and these sunglasses.

Being one ROCKS!

Charming the ladies before he could even SIT UP.

Still life with thumb.

Have you ever seen a blowfish, Mom?

I broke my leg. They took me on a plane.
Now I'm sitting with the luggage. Ain't nobody happy.

And now, I can go on with my party planning. And I will be setting aside the Duran Duran, just in case you were wondering.

The Cure was much cooler. (KIDDING.)

T-Rex it is,
Heather

Tough Guys

2011-10-26T07:29:00.000-07:00

One year ago, Jack and his buddies from school dragged their mamas to a local pumpkin patch after school to play and have their pictures taken. The kiddos were all about 7-8 months old, and some of them weren't sure how much fun they were having. We lined them up in front of some big pumpkins and giggled while we took pictures.

This is how that went:

Isaac, Emma (about to be a big sister!), Jack, Gabe (about to be a big brother!), Eli, and Mac.

This year, of course we had to do it again.

I was smart enough to leave my camera at home, knowing full well that there would be a slew of really fancy cameras with very capable moms behind them to make it worth my while. I figured there would be a fair amount of toddler chasing, so I even thought ahead to wear pants and toddler-chasing shoes.

I was right about the cameras, and my outfit choice was apt. I had underestimated our toddlers by a bit, though. They covered every inch of that pumpkin patch. They climbed stairs. They ran into the family photos of unsuspecting families. They rolled pumpkins down hills. They giggled at each other and called each other's names. (They do that now.) They thwarted our very best attempts to get them in one spot for a picture, much less looking the same way.

I don't yet know whether the camera-wielding mamas got some great shots. I sure hope so. Here's what I got:

Mac, Jack, and Eli cornering the market on the little pumpkins.
Note: Eli looks very cute.

Jack was not dressed for the occasion. In fact, he had such fun during craft time at school that he had to borrow a shirt from his nattily-dressed buddy, Eli, so that he didn't look like a total goober in the pictures. He was, however, eager to prove that he is a tough guy this year.

Did you say we were going to the gun show?

I hope that Jack and his buddies stay buddies for a long, long time. And I hope that they continue to drag their cooperative mamas and their fancy cameras to this pumpkin patch for a long time. And I hope that I never stop being surprised or entertained by the fun stories that we make there.

He does believe in the Great Pumpkin. Why do you ask?

Heather

Pasta

2011-10-25T11:25:00.000-07:00

Today, I had this conversation with one of Jack's teachers:

Teacher: Jack doesn't eat his lunch when we have spaghetti.

[lightbulb on over Momma's head]

Me: Jack doesn't like pasta.

Teacher: (eyebrows up) REALLY?

Me: Nope. I've tried to give him spaghetti and ravioli and he won't eat it. Come to think of it, he doesn't like mac and cheese, either.

Teacher: You know what? YOU'RE RIGHT! But ... all the other kids love that stuff! And Jack, well, he eats so much! How could he not like that?

Me: (laughing) I have no idea. But I will pack him something different for lunch on those days.

What's to like? Pasta. Fuggedaboutit.

Here's to our likes and dislikes. Even when they're crazy. (Sorry Jack, but not liking mac and cheese is just wackadoo.)

Because mac and cheese makes the world go round (for some of us, anyway),
Heather

Six

2011-10-22T10:04:00.000-07:00

Six years ago on this date, a cloudless fall day dawned in Austin, Texas. I woke before my alarm went off. I felt excited, yet calm. I went to the window and gazed out onto the city skyline. I smiled as I remembered the end of the previous evening, sitting on my king-sized bed, surrounded by best friends and sisters, having a serious giggle fest.

Six years ago, it was my wedding day. And it was awesome.

Durel and I had been engaged for about a year, after one lovely spring day when he asked and I answered. We lived in Washington, DC at the time.

Since then, we had finished school and moved back to Austin. We rented a house, got a dog, and planned our big day.

When the day dawned, we got dressed up and said our vows. And we meant them. And I cried. And then, I realized that I wasn't as clever as I thought by hiding a Kleenex in my cleavage, because I couldn't go cleavage-diving for it with everyone in the world watching me. And then, in a move that speaks volumes, Durel calmly handed me a Kleenex, because he had one in his pocket, because he knew that I would cry.

Since then, Durel and I have done a lot.

We took our (belated, rescheduled by hurricane, after the bar exam) honeymoon in Colorado.

I was indoctrinated. (Check blog name for proof of total submission.)

We got another dog.

We saw red rocks and saw many of our friends get married, one mile high.

We got ready.

And then we were three.

And that totally rocks.

Thanks for the past six years, D. I can't wait to see when the next six hold for us. And the six after that, and after that...

Stopping *just* short of getting too mushy for my own good.

Life is good.
Heather

Grandmother Knows Best?

2011-10-20T07:11:00.000-07:00

The other day at work, a couple of my lovely colleagues and I were discussing naps. (Yes, we really were.) Our conversation basically involved us discussing how we are not big nappers, but that our husbands are. We concurred that we always feel like we have *things to do* instead of napping. I think we were all thinking that was pretty sad, as we heard ourselves say it.

And then, one of my colleagues said, reflectively, "My grandmother always took naps."

And then it dawned on me. "Mine did, too. Every single day."

We looked at each other. Were our grandmothers onto something?

I think so. Prior to this conversation, I had completely forgotten that my grandmother took a nap every day. But once it came up, I remembered it with crystal clarity. She napped from 3:00 to 3:45, or sometimes to 4:00 if she was extra tired that day. She took her shoes off, got in my grandfather's reclining chair, and covered up with a throw blanket of her own crocheted creation. She set a timer on the side table, and dozed off almost immediately. She snored. When the timer went off, she shook off the cobwebs of sleep, sat up, folded up her blanket, and went on with her afternoon. She did this every day.

Incidentally, the next thing on her agenda would have been to see about dinner. My grandmother also served my grandfather a four course dinner every night. Yup, you read it right, folks.

My grandfather came home from work and, often, poured himself a whiskey on the rocks to drink while he changed his clothes. When he came back downstairs, he sat down to dinner. The first course was always a homemade soup. My grandmother's vegetable soup was delicious. As a grown-up soup aficionado, I can respect the fine balance of a good vegetable soup.

Once the soup bowls were cleared, the second course was a garden salad. My grandmother always used Bibb lettuce, which reminds me of her to this day. She also peeled her tomatoes. (Wow, right?) There might have been some cucumber or green pepper involved. The salads were simple, but completely fresh.

The third course was usually a pan-seared steak and some sort of vegetable. The vegetables were simple, maybe green beans, and usually topped with a little margarine and salt. I don't really remember there being a carb in that meal, though to me, it begs for some form of potato. There were, however, rolls or bread of some sort. (Or Maryland beaten biscuits, if you were lucky. YUM.)

The fourth course was dessert, which was either frozen yogurt or fresh fruit. (My grandfather was diabetic.)

As a full-time working mom, the afternoon nap isn't an option for me. (Though it sounds divine.) But I can't stop thinking about the four course dinner. Durel and I are always keeping an eye on how healthily we eat, though we each have penchants for unhealthy things. (Me = queso. Durel = donuts.)

But you have to give it Grandmom. For all of the fad diets and low-fat foods and just plain processed foods out there, the dinners that she served to Granddad were awesome. They were low fat. They involved good proteins. They involved a lot of fresh vegetables, and quite frequently, fresh fruit. They were substantial, but not heavy. In short, they were awesome.

I feel proud and inspired to totally recognize that Grandmom was on to something. That something is healthy eating. And I'm going to try it. What I mean by that is this: I am going to make a huge pot of soup this weekend. And a massive salad. I may even use Bibb lettuce this week as an homage. I am going to buy lean proteins and fresh veggies and Durel and I are going to eat like my grandparents for a week or two. I'll report back on how we feel and how it goes.

We will make one slight change, though: We will watch Modern Family and 30 Rock instead of Jeopardy after dinner.

I think Grandmom would be okay with that.

Bibb lettuce to you all,

Heather

Dogs with Horns

2011-10-19T08:02:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, all of our hearts were made happy by a lovely visit from Nancy. Nancy and I have been friends for (gulp) 18 years, since our freshman year at Bates in the twin cities of the Androscoggin.

Since then, we've both had our shares of adventures, moves, new cities, good jobs, bad jobs, treasured moments, and things we'd rather forget. During all of that, we've remained able to finish each other's sentences and know when it's *just time* for a Diet Coke. Best friends are your family, and she definitely is.

Last year, Nancy came to visit in October, and we made our merry way to Sweetberry Farm for some frolicking in the pumpkin patch. (I'm trying to lobby for this to become an annual trip. Totally doable, right?) Anyway, last year, Nancy snapped this priceless picture. Remember? I do.

That makes my ovaries hurt.

This year, Jack was much less interested in making cherubic poses while calmly sitting among the pumpkins. This year, Jack was super toddler head explosion excited about the fact that the farm has GOATS. That's right, goats. That you can pet, and feed, and poke, and giggle about. Upon our arrival at the farm, we head straight to the goats.

One thing, though, Jack called them dogs.

In Jack's mind, animals are either dogs, bears, or dinosaurs. He's on the verge of figuring out elephants, too. But if an animal is brown-ish and has 4 legs, and is not a bear, then it's a dog. This means that goats are dogs with horns.

Still good for the petting, though.

Did you know they have dogs here?

I think I might pet one.

I am totally touching this dog with my finger.

I might even stick my finger in its eye.

So, a priest and a rabbi walk into a bar...

Hope your day involves some dogs with horns, or at least something furry,
Heather

The New Truth

2011-10-13T19:13:00.000-07:00

Just making sure you all knew that. I've been given lots of lessons lately.

Happy happy weekend (MINE!),

Heather

Not a Care in the World

2011-10-11T07:58:00.000-07:00

So, the pesky little ticker on the left side of this blog tells me that I am running veeeery low on time to prepare for the 3M Half Marathon in January. (Go ahead and look. I'll wait. That's not a lot of time, right?)

I am both a perfectionist and a procrastinator, so in my world, I would prefer to do the perfect training schedule, in the perfect weather, with perfect form and amazing results. But, guess what? That's probably not going to happen. Guess what else? I realized yesterday that, regardless of these aspirational plans, I really just need to Get My Butt Out There.

So, Jack and I loaded up and Got Out There. As I wrestled with all of my notions about being incredibly buff and making some ridiculous time in the race, I huffed and puffed with the jogging stroller around our neighborhood.

And I decided this: I've set this goal. I am going to meet it. I can, and I will. It doesn't matter if it's perfect, because, you know what? When I do it, that's "perfect enough." So, I reminded myself to (expression that's jumped the shark alert) keep calm and carry on.

As I felt my spirits rising from making an awesome realization and good decision, I looked down to check on my passenger. And this is what I saw:

He didn't have a care in the world. It was a beautiful day. He was outside. He had already had some juice and taken his shoes off. He giggled when his momma ran fast, because he liked the breeze and the bumps. To him, it was perfect. And guess what? That made it perfect for me.

So, you know. Here I go.

I guess you knew that all along?
Heather

Things That Make My Heart Hurt

2011-10-10T07:27:00.000-07:00

The other day, Jack and I went to run an "errand" after work. The "errand" may or may not have had to do with a present for Durel. No comment.

Anyway, after our errand, it was high time for a spot of dinner out. I considered our options for something toddler-friendly and delicious, and decided on La Madeleine. I hadn't been there in some time, and I am still totally agog that their fat-free caesar dressing is really fat-free.

We found a table, where Jack enjoyed his kids meal, which consisted of the remarkably un-French options of cheese pizza and a chocolate chip cookie, and I enjoyed my fat-free chicken caesar salad. We ate happily, stopping from time to time to smile at one another, and I felt my heart soar in a way that it has truly only known since I became a mother. Fun stuff, indeed.

The table next to us was occupied with a mother and her two sons, who (though I have a hard time with this) appeared to be about ten-ish. I thought to myself, "Oh, I can't believe Jack will be this age someday, but at least we can still have fun at La Mad!" I thought that, that is, until I saw the way she treated her sons.

I really can't think of another way to describe it than this: it seemed like she didn't *like* them. She snapped at them about what they had ordered, how much they had ordered, how quickly (or slowly) they were eating, and a plethora of other things. And, though I am the first to admit that there is no wrong quite like judging a person from their appearance, I will say that her appearance was such that I was surprised to hear her treating her sons with such disregard. I couldn't help myself but to eavesdrop.

They finished, and they left. (She was in no shortage of hurry, but did take the time to berate one son for having chocolate around his mouth after dessert and ordering him to go clean up TWICE before they could leave.) I turned to Jack and felt my heart surge again.

I am sorry for those boys. And I am sorry for whatever made that woman so angry, either that day, or that year, or in that lifetime. And I pledge, to the world, and my readers, and my family, and my son, to never behave in a way that will make a stranger think that I *don't like* my family. Shudder. That pledge doesn't even need to be said, I think, but knowing that it's the only thing I can do to combat the way my heart hurt after seeing that dinner scene, it's what I am choosing to say.

I still can't believe it's fat-free,
Heather

High Five

2011-10-05T06:18:00.000-07:00

Jack adores our dog, Pablo, with utter hero worship. It is not uncommon for the first morning sounds we hear on the monitor to go something like this:

[rustle rustle]

Pablo!

Pablo...

[giggle]

[rustle rustle]

We have two dogs. The other one is named Lucy. She happens to adore Jack with utter hero worship. To the extent that Jack is all about Pablo, this makes me feel a teeny tiny bit bad for Lucy. She only spends all day following Jack around, licking his face, nudging him if he cries, and laying outside of his room while he naps. That's all.

But this weekend, I was reminded that Jack is totally aware of Lucy and her awesomeness. Because, while he may wake up calling for his black and white hero, Pablo, who does he lay on the floor and high five with?

That's right. It's all good in our house.

High five and doggie treats to you all,
Heather

Just Like Dad

2011-10-03T06:26:00.000-07:00

Durel enjoys doing yard-work.

Well, I think he does, anyway. In our household, he takes care of all "outside" things. I take care of all "inside" things. Despite my big talk of starting an herb garden, we don't have an herb garden. Despite my big talk of helping in the yard, I have yet to get that done. So...yeah.

Anyway, back to Durel and his green thumbs. Super green. In fact, D's father, Jack's PapaDu, redefines passion for gardening, yard-work, and one man palm tree relocation. He doesn't just have a green thumb; he's green all the way up to his elbows. I've decided that green thumb-ness and yard workiness are genetic on Durel's side of the family.

I, on the other hand, come from a place where poinsettias, Easter lilies, and all greenery received as a gift are presumed to be temporary. I know they're going to die under my care, so I just enjoy them while they're nice. Ironically, I am also completely opposed to silk flowers and fake trees. Don't like them at all. So, in order to have plants in my life, I either need to: (1) learn how to keep them alive; (2) budge on my no fake plant stance (unlikely), or (3) live with Durel. Boom. Done.

The other day, Durel decided to start Jack early.

Thanks for the shirt, Aunt K!

I have a feeling that Jack will take after Durel and PapaDu. And that makes me happy. Maybe one day, I'll have that herb garden, after all. Mother's Day 2016, perhaps?

Here's hoping you have some green thumbs in your life,
Heather

Shana Tova

2011-09-29T11:19:00.000-07:00

It has been a *rough* couple of weeks in our household.

Last week, Jack was down with the enigmatic "fever virus," which gives your toddler a low-grade fever for days. I like to call it the "daycare slayer," because said fever means they cannot go to school, even though they look and act pretty darn fine. He went back to school for one day last week, Friday, and was super psyched to be back. Phew, breathed us, the parents.

Then, last Saturday, as we were enjoying a super fun weekend with our besties in from DC, Jack decided to make one of my deeply rooted parental fears come true. He projectile vomited. On our couch.

I have been afraid of the projectile vom day since he was born. Sure, babies spit up, but that's no big deal. However, maniacal toddlers eat everything that grown-ups eat, yet cannot control when, where, or with how much force they vom. Enter: My fears realized. (Post on couch cleaning will be on the way soon.)

As it we weren't busy enough, and stretched thin enough, my body decided to go down for the count. On Tuesday night, the eve of a Very Important Day at My Job, I got the projectile vom bit of Jack's plethora of illnesses. Oh, crappity.

What happened? I was sick. I missed The Thing at work. It was okay, but definitely not great that I wasn't there. I felt like doo doo, on both physical and professional levels. Yes, it happens, but don't you remember? I'm SuperMom. It's not supposed to happen to Me.

**SIGH**

It is also Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish new year. We are not Jewish. However, I have always had a sincere fondness for this holiday.

In order to shed some light on the meaning of this celebration, I am going to let the (credible on many levels) website for Jdate step in:

Serving as the Head of the Year, The Day of Judgment, and The Day of Remembrance, Rosh Hashanah is a Jewish Holiday for reflecting upon the past year, and looking forward to the blessings of the new year to come. The Jewish holiday Rosh Hashanah leads to the Ten Days of Penitence culminating on Yom Kippur, The Day of Atonement. Rosh Hashanah is the Day of Judgment where the inhabitants of the world come before G-d to be examined, as sheep pass for examination before the Sheppard. According to the Talmud, three books are opened on this Jewish holiday. The book of life is where the names of the righteous are inscribed, the names of the wicked are removed from the book of the living, and those in middle class are allowed ten days to repent and become righteous until the Jewish holiday Yom Kippur.

In the big picture? You get to stop. Reflect on what you've done well and done poorly in the past year. You get to fill yourself with hope and new resolve for the good things to come in the next year. And if you need to repent (and who doesn't?), you get ten days to work through it until the next High Holiday.

Uh, that's awesome, people.

And so, as I felt all trudgy and meh and sorry for myself heading back to work today, a friend reminded me that this is actually the perfect time to start fresh. Get the ick out. Say the sorries. Kick this past year to the curb, because a new and totally awesome one is coming.

And so, I say to you, Shana Tova.

Here's to a sweet year,
Heather

SugarLips

2011-09-29T10:18:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, we rocked a super fun time with Kristina and Jamie. In fact, it was so fun that we barely took any pictures, the fun-making was so all-pervasive. We shopped and talked and laughed and ate and relaxed and caught up, in that way you do with your besties that makes you *really* wish they lived in the same city.

Le sigh.

One thing we had to do last weekend was Operation: Get Kolaches. We introduced these Czech breakfast treats to Kristina and Jamie last time they were in town, and they made quite the impression. So, on Saturday morning, Kristina, Jack, and I went to Shipley Donuts to procure the goodness.

Jamie calls them "hot dog donuts." Which is not that far off.

Of course, Kristina and I were hungry. She's eating for two, and I had been up since like 5 AM without eating breakfast. We were ready to throw down. And Jack, well he's always ready for breakfast. On a normal day, he eats "first breakfast" and "second breakfast." If there is a "third breakfast" on the weekend, so much the better.

So, we planned to take kolaches home for the guys, but that did not stop us from enjoying some ourselves, while fresh and warm at the bakery! And, we treated Jack to a cinnamon twist. Did I mention that cinnamon twists are sugar-coated?

And that sugar-coated twists make for sugar-coated toddlers?

Of course, I'm not nicknaming him SugarLips. He can earn that one himself when he's ... 25.

Oh, how quickly they grow.

Kolaches up, people.

Heather

BoosterMania

2011-09-26T07:06:00.000-07:00

In a parenting move that was probably long overdue, we got Jack a booster seat this weekend. No more high chair -- it's been moved to the garage.

No more high chair means several things. It means we have a lot more room in our kitchen. High chairs are big. It means that Jack is using plates, bowls, and utensils at every meal. The messiness of a meal has some sort of inverse ratio to sitting at a table. You can't just wipe yogurt all over your face when you sit in a booster seat and eat at the table, right? I thought not. That's for *babies*.

I suppose that getting rid of the high chair could make me feel sad -- like it's another milestone that means he's not a baby anymore. But he so loves eating at the table, that it makes me not think that way.

I mean, look at this face.

Hope there's a toothy grin in your Monday,
Heather

From Jack

2011-09-20T05:53:00.000-07:00

I like yogurt.

I eat yogurt with a spoon.

Mom keeps taking pictures of me.

Don't you eat yogurt with a spoon?

-- JACK

Biscuits

2011-09-19T14:02:00.000-07:00

I fully embrace my Irish heritage. I think a misty morning is heavenly. I think a cold(ish) pint of Guinness is divine. I think a curse word here and there is not only appropriate, but required.

There is a problem with that last one.

Jack is a sponge. And when I say "sponge," I mean little walking, talking person with no filter who likes to repeat every word you say that he can make his mouth form.

He has not cursed, yet. To avoid this unfortunate occurrence, I have cut way back on my cursing. This is hard for me. So, I had the *brilliant* idea -- or maybe Durel had it -- that we need to replace our curse words with another word that's innocent. We didn't want anything that sounded too close to the offending word (as in, "fudge" is not an appropriate substitute for the "F" word because it's too close).

What did we choose? Biscuit.

Why? Because! How can you hate a biscuit? With all of its buttery carbohydrate loveliness? You can't. Even if you hear your parents saying things like this:

Don't be such a biscuit!
Oh, BISCUIT!
I'm telling you -- that butters my biscuit.
That guy is a rotten old biscuit.

You get the idea. So far, it's working pretty well. And we're cracking ourselves up in the process.

What do you think? Are you more virtuous than me, so stopping cursing was no problem for you? Or have you done something creative? Do you think we're nuts? (Maybe don't answer that last one.)

With butter and jam, even,

Heather

Our Green Friend

2011-09-16T08:55:00.000-07:00

Yo Gabba Gabba has introduced a lot of good lessons and fun catchphrases into our lives. I mean, who doesn't want a party in their tummy? (So yummy! So yummy!) And who doesn't like a good dancey dance from time to time? (Let's be real. I do.)

And who doesn't love the green, striped little guy named Brobee?

For the uninitiated (who are still reading), Brobee is a little kid. He gets scared of stuff. He isn't sure he wants to try new snacks sometimes. He plays the drums. And when told he needed a shampoo, he asked, incredulously, "A Magic Shamu?" (Maybe you had to be there.)

Dude. He's popular.

You can be him for Halloween.

No matter how old you are, it appears.

He can top your birthday cake.

Or he can *be* your birthday cake.

Or, he can be your veggie tray.
(Though it does sort of look like he's pooping green beans. Sorry. Doesn't it, though?)

Or, he can be your best friend.

That's what Jack opted for.

We found Brobee at Target, and he came home with us after Jack stoically received his 18 month shots earlier this week. (And by stoic, I mean, he did the silent scream until his face turned purple, and then when he reached the level of sound that human ears can hear, it resonated inside my skull for several minutes afterward.) We're good.

May there be no silent screams and many parties in your tummy this weekend,

Heather

My New Boyfriend, Borax

2011-09-13T08:58:00.000-07:00

I had no idea that you can make your own dishwasher detergent. Until a few weeks ago, when I saw this:

Source: beingcreativetokeepmysanity.blogspot.com via Heather*Proper on Pinterest

And I thought, "Wow. That is damn crafty. And you know what? I bet it's cheap as hell." (I curse a lot in my thoughts since I have begrudgingly but responsibly stopped cursing around Jack.

As I've mentioned before, I'm a busy lady. But the thought of doing this kept buzzing about in my busy brain. How hard can it be? Wouldn't that be cool to try? Dishwasher detergent is pricey stuff. And you know I like the liquid, and that's even more expensive. So, if I could make my own dishwasher detergent, that's more lattes at Starbucks that I can justify. (Evidently, my new rapture at home economics hasn't impacted my raging addiction to overpriced but so amazingly awesome coffee. Stay tuned.)

I started reading recipes. The first one I found, on a very cool website called DIY Natural called for:

1 cup borax
1 cup washing soda
1/2 cup citric acid
1/2 cup kosher salt

I thought, "I've heard of this Borax stuff for my whole life. Four ingredients? I'm in." Until, that is, I read further and was advised that you can purchase citric acid in big, $27 bottles from your local brewing supply store. Suddenly, this seemed harder than I cared for it to be. (Yes, that is lame. But it's true.)

I kept looking. And found another recipe on another very cool website, Domestic Cents, that didn't require the home brewing store. This one called for:

1/2 cup Arm & Hammer Super Washing Soda
1/2 cup 20 Mule Team Borax
4 packets lemonade flavor Kool-Aid powder (unsweetened)
1/4 cup salt (Kosher salt recommended)
Extra: Lemi-Shine, to use as a rinse aid

Kool-Aid? HUH? I read on. Of course, the thing that makes Kool-Aid sweet is the heaping cup of sugar that you pour into it when you make it. So, it would seem that the actual beverage powder is all sorts of citrusy goodness for your dishwashing needs. Hmm. I was intrigued. And with four ingredients that I was pretty sure I could get at one store, I was back in.

One of these informative blogs recommended that you make the detergent in a container that you would have thrown away or recycled, to make it a truly frugal endeavor. That made sense. So, I gathered my ingredients and was on my way.

And, just because I found it in the grocery store, I bought the Lemi-Shine, too.

And then I, uh, put it all in a container that I would have recycled. Which took about 60 seconds.

Considering that you use one tablespoon per dishwasher load, this amount would have lasted a long time. But, you know, since I'd chosen a large container, and Borax comes in big old boxes, I decided to make another batch. So, in 60 more seconds, I had twice this amount.

If you want to really crunch the numbers on this, other websites will tell you. I am not a mathematician, to say the least. So, here are my approximations:

Borax: Cost like $3.50 and the box is huge. Still have WAY more than half left.
Washing Soda: Cost like $3.50 and the box is huge. Still have like 3/4 left.
Salt: That container cost like $1.50.
Kool-Aid: 10 packets for $1.00.
Total cost of those supplies: $9.50.
Amount of dishwasher detergent it made: My guess is that it will last us through the end of the year, if not longer.
Amount of supplies remaining: No Kool-Aid (not that we drink that, so whatevs), but a ton of Borax, washing soda, and a good amount of salt that I will cook with.

How were the dishes, you ask? Awesome. I used one tablespoon of my new detergent, and put another tablespoon of Lemi-Shine in as a rinse aid. The dishes are crystal clear and perfectly clean.

That's not the end of the story, though. Making the detergent was sort of anticlimactic because it was so damn fast. When I was done, I stood there and pondered this magical stuff called Borax. And then, I got an idea.

I shook some into my dual stainless steel sinks that are never as clean as I want them to be. After a couple minutes of moderate scrubbing, they were cleaner than they've ever been. I stood there like a dork, grinning. I shared this revelation with Durel, who was watching football and was all like, "Huh? What's Borax?"

I was on a mission. I proceeded to SCRUB our master bathroom, on a random Monday night, with my new best friend, Borax, until it was completely gleaming. It took all of my self-control not to tweet this: "Just discovered Borax. May be up all night cleaning."

I didn't, though, because you would have thought I was nuts. Oops. Anyway, I highly recommend this magical Borax stuff, and this recipe for dishwasher detergent. And maybe I am a little nutty.

But at least I'm nutty enough to admit it,

Heather

Dudes

2011-09-12T10:27:00.000-07:00

After eating key lime sorbet in Key West.

I grew up with sisters. My brother was a freshman in college when I was born, so I didn't have the benefit of ever living in the same house as him. And, with three daughters and a wife at home, suffice it to say that my dear, amazingly patient and generous dad was outnumbered.

These days, I hang out with dudes. I'm outnumbered. In fact, I'm still outnumbered if you factor in the dogs, because then it's 3:2, in favor of the guys.

What have I learned, living with dudes?

No matter how tough you are, hugs are still good.
It is all about football.
And cookies.
So, it's all about cookies and football.
I love my dudes beyond words.

Someday, if we're lucky enough to add to our little family, maybe we'll even up that ratio. Or maybe not. Either way, I know how lucky I am to spend my days with these dudes, and I treasure every moment.

If only I gave a shit about football.

Heather

Surf's Up

2011-09-11T19:03:00.000-07:00

Without a leg cast to crimp his style, Jack took to the beach like, well, a fish to water.

Is that the water? I should go check it out.

Ooh, Dad's going! I have to go with him!

Dad time on the beach is the double best.

More to come. Hope all is well where you are.

Heather

What Would You Have Done?

2011-09-08T12:35:00.000-07:00

Durel and I just got back from a fabulous long weekend at the beach with my parents. We had a gorgeous beach house, yummy seafood, an infinity pool ... in other words, it rocked.

The other thing that rocked about it was that Jack could actually get into the water, be it Gulf or pool. If you cast your memories back to our other (lovely) vacation in Florida this summer, Jack was doing his best Peg Leg impression a cast on his broken leg. That meant that beach, pool, and bath (all forms of water, in fact), were off limits to him.

Oh how I love the Interwebs. Seriously.

You may also recall that our trip to Florida has gone down in the annals of history as Toddlerpocalypse. This is because, well, just read about it here. I can't even bear to recap except to say: We flew. It sucked.

For this trip, we drove. We tried to outsmart Jack, based on our last experience. We worked full days at the office. We came home and fed Jack dinner. We got him ready for bed, including overnight diaper and jammie jams. Then, we loaded his (tired) little toddler butt into the car for the four hour drive to our waterfront destination.

Needless to say, our thought was that after a full day at school, rollin' with his homies, a dinner and his pj's, he would sleep.

Did he sleep? No.

What did he do?

Did I stop him? No.

Why? Because he wasn't crying.

What would you have done?

Have you read about the Toddlerpocalypse yet?

If not, go back, read it, and then ask yourself again: What would you have done?

I thought not,
Heather

Beach Boys

2011-09-07T13:18:00.000-07:00

I'm not usually wordless, even on Wednesday. But I think this speaks for itself.

Don't you?

Heather

Ten Things

2011-09-01T11:29:00.000-07:00

Recently, I took the Mom Pledge. To me, the Mom Pledge means that I am dedicated to creating a safe and informative space on the Interwebs for moms to share their experiences without judgment, with support, and with creativity and freedom. Since then, I have posted pictures of Jack eating cookies and being a butterfly. And while that's nice and all, it doesn't have much to do with the substance of the pledge.

Yesterday, a friend on Facebook posted that her four(ish) month old Little Dude doesn't like pureed peas. It made me smile, and I commented to suggest that she try pears and/or sweet potatoes, both of which Jack loved. The speed and ease of my response took me aback a little bit.

It was as if I read her post and immediately thought, "Oh, right. Peas are tricky. She should try other things that are a little sweeter, but not rely entirely on the orange purees, so that he never eats anything green. I should suggest pears and sweet potatoes. How cool that she's making her own food."

And with that thought, I felt like Such.A.Mom. And it was awesome.

So, I jotted down my list of Ten Things To Share. That means these are ten things that I was told, or learned the hard way, or figured out, but think are useful to put out there. Feel free to like, dislike, borrow, or ignore. It's all good.

1. Swaddling works. We swaddled Jack like it was our job. Because making him happy and sleepy was our job. And it totally worked. We really liked the Kiddopotamus. Miracle Blankets are cool, but the Kiddopatamus is EASY.

2. Breastfeeding is not easy. Forget all of those fuzzy, sepia-toned visions of nursing your baby while your endorphins surge. Or don't, because that might happen. But if it doesn't happen to you, it's OK. Not all breastfeeding situations are created equal. I'll leave it at that.

3. Making your own baby food is smart, cheap, easy, and rewarding.

Baby food is cheap, but making your own baby food is cheaper. And free of preservatives. And fresh and delicious. And it sort of makes you feel like SuperMom. I recommend it.

Not gonna lie. I enjoy a pea from time to time.

4. Trust your instincts. You know more than you think.

5. Trust Dad's instincts, too. He knows more than you think.

Look at us! Just trusting our instincts.

6. Reading is fun. We've been reading to Jack every night since he was born. Because it's part of our routine, and it's fun, and reading is important. For all of us.

7. You are tougher than you think. And you will slog through that poo-splosion to get to the other side. Because it's your kiddo, and you just will, that's all.

Poo-splosion? Who, me?

8. Some days suck. Because they involve non-stop crying/pooping/puking/throwing/no-ing/dog tail pulling/nerve-fraying/etc. Dude, mama said there'd be days like this.

Really, Mother? Now is the time to take pictures?

9. Some days rock. Because they involve non-stop cuddling/cooing/smiling/nursing/sleeping/playing/tummy time/etc.

Around 4 months. He was home sick and we did a photo shoot on the couch.
I'll never forget this day.

10. Just when you learn something, all the rules change. Numbers 1-9 are based on Jack's first 17 months of life. But guess what happens on Sunday? He turns 18 months. Guess what else? We are currently on a fast track into the unknown, which involves talking, potty training, cup-drinking, utensil-using, disciplining and other scary things like that. So, my guess is that in a while, I'll have another list of hard-fought truths learned from doing hard Toddler Time.

Waiting in the orthopedist's office for his cast.
Riiiight. Things are changing, people.

I guess...stay tuned?

Keeping it real in list format,
Heather

Butterfly

2011-08-30T12:01:00.000-07:00

I decided to take a quick flashback to vacation today. One afternoon, Durel, Jack and I decided to take on Key West. It was hotter than the surface of the sun, so we didn't do much.

We did two things, though. We sat on the porch of an old-fashioned ice cream shop and shared a dish of key lime sorbet between the three of us. That's good stuff.

We also went to the Southernmost Point in the United States. Well, we were one pier over from the one that everyone takes pictures of, which looks like this:

We could have walked over to it to take a picture. We did not, because it was hotter than the surface of the sun, and walking to the end of the pier would have negated all the cooling effects of the sorbet we had just eaten.

We also stopped at a cool butterfly conservatory. If you do not have a toddler, you read that sentence and assume that we went through the conservatory. You would be wrong. If you have a toddler, and have been reading closely about our TWO events already completed on a day when it's hotter than the surface of the sun, your guess is that we did not go through the conservatory. You would be right.

We did however, in the great tradition of my family, go to the gift shop. We got little presents for Jack's teachers, and took this picture of our Boy as Butterfly outside:

Hope your day has a cool treat and a butterfly in it,
Heather

Worth It

2011-08-19T09:33:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, being a working mom makes me very tired. The days can be a blur. Get up, breakfast, commute, daycare, to work, deadlines, issues, stay hydrated, daycare, commute, 107 degree heat wave, feed dogs, dinner for Jack, bath time, bed time, dinner for grown ups, clean up, laundry, bed.

Oh, wait. I forgot to mention volunteering, yoga, half-marathon training, Junior League, and writing two blogs.

Phew. Oh, wait. I forgot to mention spending time with Durel, my parents, my friends, taking naps, drinking wine, or doing other fun things.

It's a good thing I'm a Type A personality. It's a good thing I'm a pro-style list maker. It's a good thing I like having a lot to do. Because it's the understatement of the week to say that there's a lot to do.

You know what? It is totally, one hundred bazillion percent worth it.

You know why? Because I get to spend it with him.

Here's to lists. And wine.
Heather

Yum

2011-08-16T06:15:00.000-07:00

I don't have much of a sweet tooth. I prefer a bagel over a donut, 100% of the time. I prefer queso as an appetizer over any dessert, 100% of the time. I did eat a hell of a lot of chocolate cake while pregnant, but I blame that on Jack. Because the kid has a sweet tooth.

Part of me thinks that's inevitable, though. Because sweets are good! And let's face it. If you've been alive for like a year and a half, and someone hands you your first chocolate chip cookie, what are you going to do? Freak your freak. Because it's GOOD. And you've never HAD one before. And suddenly, you realize that the world (aka, your parents) has been holding out on you. From that moment on, you crave the good stuff.

Enter, Jack's love affair with a chocolate chip cookie from this weekend.

Disclaimer: We give him lots of fruits and veggies. Promise. But seriously, look at that kid.

Hope your weekend had chocolate chips in it,

Heather

Brees, Baby

2011-08-15T06:00:00.000-07:00

Those of you who have been around since the early days of this blog might remember this picture, from this post, pre-baby:

"I don't have a baby yet. But when I do, they're wearing this. Asap."
(This is also before I learned how to edit pictures. Like I needed to say that.)

Jack is destined to be a Saints fan. In fact, while I lay like a beached whale in my leather recliner, massively pregnant and on bed rest, when the Saints won the Superbowl, watching my husband and his parents whoop with pure, unadulterated joy, Jack *might* have been named Drew for about ten minutes. Maybe not, though.

Anyway, pre-season football started on Thursday evening. And on Friday, in honor of this divine event, Jack wore this to school.

Yup, I look good. Like my pumped up kicks?

Why am I not in the car yet?

Oh, you want a picture of my outfit? Why didn't you just say so?

Right, then. Happy football season to all of us, every one.

Heather

I Took the Pledge

2011-08-12T07:04:00.000-07:00

So...you guys. I started this blog when I was pregnant with Jack, then known as Cheeseburger. (Due to our decision not to know gender and my undying hunger for cheeseburgers while pregnant.) I was on bedrest for the final two and a half months of my pregnancy. I needed something to do with my time, spent in the leather recliner in our living room. (Though Stacy and Clinton are great companions, I craved more.) I also knew that friends and family would want to see pictures of Cheeseburger after he/she made their grand debut. Since this blog started, that's what it's been for. Lots of pictures. Very light. The Jack Show.

But lately, I've realized that this blog means more to me than that. I have things to say! About sleep, diapers, potty training (shudder), words, work-life balance, priorities, careers, and how on earth working moms make dinner every night.

I have stoically resisted the label of "mommy blogger" because I (snarkily) thought, "I have a career, and other interests, and don't want to blog about being a mom all the time." As it turns out, that was a naive and judgmental way to look at it. I am a mommy blogger. Because, you know what? I blog, several times a week, about my beautiful boy and about the pleasure (and stress) of being his mommy. You know what else? I love it.

I also love the online community of amazing, like-minded, multi-tasking, honest, candid, funny, and intelligent women that I have discovered online. They are doing their thing, just like I'm doing mine. Some days are good; some days are bad, but they share the love every day. And that's awesome.

So, with that, in a seismic blog shift that may be significant to no one but me, I'm doing it. Opening up, with honesty, about being a mom and all the nuttiness that entails. And, to ensure that I do that with respect for all the other moms out there, I also took the pledge.

The Mom Pledge

I am a proud to be a mom. I will conduct myself with integrity in all my online activities. I can lead by example.

I pledge to treat my fellow moms with respect. I will acknowledge that there is no one, "right" way to be a good Mom. Each woman makes the choices best for her family.

I believe a healthy dialogue on important issues is a good thing. I will welcome differing opinions when offered in a respectful, non-judgmental manner. And will treat those who do so in kind.

I stand up against cyber bullying. My online space reflects who I am and what I believe in. I will not tolerate comments that are rude, condescending or disrespectful.

I refuse to give those who attack a platform. I will remove their remarks with no mention or response. I can take control.

I want to see moms work together to build one another up, not tear each other down. Words can be used as weapons. I will not engage in that behavior.

I affirm that we are a community. As a member, I will strive to foster goodwill among moms. Together, we can make a difference.

So, you know, there's that. Happy weekend to ya.

Heather

No.

2011-08-09T06:14:00.000-07:00

When your child is a newborn, they cry a lot. That's stressful, at least until you start to figure out what they need and what different cries sound like. (And/or get them medicine for reflux, which was sent down from heaven.) Then, you feel like the Baby Whisperer, which, in fact, you are. Each parent is a Baby Whisperer to their own child. It's the perfect system: The most gratifying reward ever is built into the world's most monumental task.

Then, when your child starts to toddle and babble, they cry less. Because there is less reason for them to. They're rocking their nap times, favorite toys, and sippy cups like little, well, rock stars. Tears are for tantrums, boo boos, and other unpredictable flare-ups. This, for the record, is a happy time in Parenting Land.

This weekend, we hit an important (and terrifying) developmental milestone. Jack started saying, "No."

Don't get me wrong. I am delighted to get to know Jack with words. His personality is big. We know this without the benefit of words. And the words he uses are adorable and enlightening. He loves his dogs, his parents, his balls, and his sippy cup. The kid's got priorities.

With the advent of "no," we're entering a new phase. Independence. Defiance. Absolutes. Tantrums. Discipline. Sentences.

Do I feel ready? No.

Do I have to be? Yes.

Will there be more stories? Oh, hell yes.

Here's to your favorite words,

Samples

2011-08-07T13:35:00.000-07:00

You know what's awesome? When you are at the grocery store and your kiddo gets hungry and there are samples EVERYWHERE.

You know what else is awesome? When the samples include Boursin cheese, focaccia bread, and freshly made tortillas. And your kiddo eats EVERYTHING.

That's artisan chese focaccia, you know.

Hope you have some cheesy bread today,
Heather

Swimming

2011-08-05T06:52:00.000-07:00

Last weekend, Durel and Uncle Dustin took Jack to experience Barton Springs. For those of you not familiar with this destination, it is awesome. It's a three acre pool, fed by underground springs, and the water is 68 degrees year-round.

Courtesy of City of Austin

The boys played in the shallow end of the pool. Jack didn't mind that the water was cold, didn't mind that he got his face wet, and didn't mind that everyone was watching him as he cuted it up.

Afterward, the boys head to a shady spot in the grass to dry off and have a snack. Swimming makes you hungry, you know.

Hope you can swim and have some Kix this weekend,
Heather

Oysters

2011-08-03T06:39:00.000-07:00

When Durel and I were dating, we realized that we both love seafood. We also realized that each of us firmly believe that *we* are from The State With The Best Seafood. I am from Maryland. Durel is from Louisiana.

Enter, debate. Maryland has the idyllic Chesapeake Bay, replete with oysters, rockfish, and, of course, CRABS.

Louisiana has the epic Gulf of Mexico, replete with oysters, redfish, shrimp, and, of course, CRAWFISH. How on earth do you decide the victor of this debate?

You don't. Marriage is about compromise, people. We took it as "meant to be" that we're both such seafood lovers, not afraid of eating crustaceans with our hands, and rocked on.

While on vacation, we rocked on in the kitchen with some fresh oysters. I didn't make a recipe, per se, but tried to replicate something incredibly delicious that we enjoyed years ago at Drago's in New Orleans.

Here's what I did: We left each oyster on the half-shell. I made a topping of Italian breadcrumbs, minced fresh garlic, oregano, lemon juice, and Parmesan cheese. I sprinkled that on top of each oyster, and we grilled them that way.

Works in progress.

They were delicious but, after I ate one, I decided that they were a bit dry. So, I whipped up a white sauce with butter, flour, milk, garlic, and more oregano, salt and pepper, and topped each grilled oyster with a spoonful of that. The results? AWESOMESAUCE. If I do say so myself.

My beautiful sister-in-law, Geri, enjoying the oystery goodness.

Did Jack have an oyster? No. He was already in bed.

Will Jack eat oysters? I'm sure he will.

Will one of us take more credit for Jack's hereditary love of seafood? Probably. We'll have to wait and see.

Sprinkle some Parmesan on it,
Heather

Boyz

2011-08-02T06:18:00.000-07:00

While on our recent vacation, we were able to catch up with two of Durel's cousins, Marshall and Shelly, who were also vacationing in Florida at the time. Marshall and Shelly have two adorable sons named Colton and Caden. They are All Boy, and they thought Jack was pretty cool.

We all head out into Key West and stopped for a refreshing beverage. While there, PapaDu became ground zero for all of the boys' activities. See here? He was surrounded. And you know what?

He loved it.

Colton watches Jack beat on the table with approval. Caden watches the camera.

Hope your day is filled with cuteness and adventures.

Heather

PS: Happy birthday, Marshall! Hope to see you guys again soon!

Flashback Friday: July 2010

2011-07-29T06:00:00.000-07:00

I must be in some sort of a time warp. How was this picture taken a year ago?

At least some of my friends are in the same time warp, because this photo was also taken about a year ago, and I bet they can't believe it, either.

Jack, Emma, Gabe, and Jazmin show their patriotic baby cuteness, July 2010.

And, just as a reminder, here's where we are now.

What has happened in that year? Wow. What hasn't happened? We are done with bottles, swaddles, binkies, pumping, crawling, an entire wardrobe, one size of carseat. Durel got a new car. (Which is not a truck; don't remind him.) Durel changed jobs. I registered for the 3M Half Marathon. I got highlights. (This is a big deal to me.) Construction began on Nonna and PapaDu's Austin house. Aunt Geri and Uncle Dustin moved to Austin. We realized that Lucy had been eating Pablo's food for longer than we care to admit, and now feed them separately. I *feel* that I am starting to master being a working, blogging mama.

What a year it's been, time warp or not.

Hope your time warp brings you to a happy place,
Heather

Toddlerpocalypse

2011-07-28T09:39:00.000-07:00

This picture gives you a false sense of security that the story below is happy.

Our recent vacation began with a flight. It has taken me several days to figure out the best way to blog about this flight. Because this flight need to be blogged about. I've decided that the numbers speak for themselves. Here they are:

Magnadoodles rock.

Days before trip that I started planning how to survive a flight with a toddler: 10

Toys in Jack's travel bag: 10 (red truck, blue truck, stretchy frog, stretchy dinosaur, 2 books, stuffed animal, Magnadoodle, Weeble Wobble, rubber duck)

Toys in Durel's bag for Jack: 2, as in one DVD player with Yo Gabba Gabba and SpongeBob DVDs

Snacks in Jack's travel bag: 10 (2 Nutri-Grain bars, goldfish, mini grahams, Kix, applesauce, 2 packs of mini muffins, cheesy crackers, fruit leather)

Minutes we arrived at airport before plane boarded: 60

Number of gates that Jack marched up and down prior to boarding plane, which we smugly thought was sure to tire him out: 8

Level of fear that Durel and I felt prior to boarding plane (on a scale of 1-10): 4

Empty seats on plane: 0

Minutes of flight from Austin to Fort Lauderdale: 150

Minutes that Jack screamed, wailed, sobbed, kicked, and flailed, while in flight: 130

Number of minutes Jack slept on flight: 0

Number of people around us on plane who offered food, medication, or other assistance: 5

Number of things that worked to calm Jack down: 0

Level of fear felt by Durel and I during the flight: 10

Minutes of drive time from Fort Lauderdale to Marathon, Florida Keys: 180

Minutes of drive that Jack slept, when Durel and I actually could have handled crying because we wouldn't have been worried about pissing off more than one hundred people: 160

Amount of wine consumed by Durel and I once we arrived at our destination and put Jack to bed: Lots

We're calling it the Toddlerpocalypse.

How's your day going?

Heather

Kitchen Bandit

2011-07-27T10:22:00.000-07:00

Jack made himself very comfortable in the beach house where we recently enjoyed a Florida vacation. He thumped around on his cast with ease, explored cabinets, bounced balls, and really kicked back and had some toddler times.

He was particularly fond of the kitchen. On our second day there, he marched over to the cabinet that we had decided was our "pantry." He opened the door and pulled out a box of Nutri-Grain bars (his FAVORITE treat). He plopped himself down on the kitchen floor and pulled a bar out of the box. He then looked up at me as if to say, "What? I want a snack, woman."

Of course, I obligingly opened the bar for him. He proceeded to devour it in three bites.

Other than how cute that is, let's really get what happened here. He knew where the food was after one day in the house. He got it out himself. He was getting himself a snack. People, he's not even a year and half old yet. What the what?

The other kitchen item that Jack enjoyed was the strainer.

Well? What do YOU do with strainers?

Hope your day is full of Nutri-grain bars and other good things,
Heather

Potty

2011-07-25T12:28:00.000-07:00

We just got back from vacation!

For starters, here's what I will say about that:

(1) Mojitos are awesome.

(2) Hemingway was not as fat as people seem to think he was.

(3) Having a toddler in a cast on a beach vacation is not easy.

(4) Having a toddler, cast or no cast, on a plane is not easy.

More on those topics later. For now, a quick image that I took before we left town for sandier pastures.

That is one Little Dude, sitting on his new Ikea potty, in his pajamas, watching Yo Gabba Gabba.

What am I thinking? Here's what. I bought this book on potty training. (I know, but that's how I do things...) I meant to read it on vacation. I didn't. But somewhere in my travels, browsings, and Interwebbings, I saw this nugget:

The first thing to do is get the kiddo comfortable with the potty, in particular, sitting on it. Even if you start with them sitting on it while fully clothed.

So, there you go. Boom. Now I just need to read that book and figure out what to do next.

Diapers and Yo Gabba Gabba until then,

Heather

Bionic

2011-07-22T05:00:00.000-07:00

Everyone has been asking to see the cast, and I haven't blogged any pictures of it. Sorry. Jack is so fast, even with the cast on, that it's hard to slow him down to take pictures.

In fear of finding an entire meal worth of crackers, raisins and sundry items inside the cast when it is eventually removed, Durel and I have been dressing Jack with a sock over his cast. It's working well, and is very stylish.

Sixteen months old, one shoe, and one sock-clad cast, courtesy of Puma:

What cast, mom?

Seriously, what cast? Is this thing on my leg supposed to slow me down?

Whatever, dude.

Totally whatever,

Heather

Sit

2011-07-20T11:52:00.000-07:00

Jack heard that this was a cool place to have a seat. So, he opened the cabinet, removed the bag of kitchen sponges, took a seat, and obligingly posed for this photo.

Because it's cool to hang out in the kitchen. And everyone needs to sit down sometimes.

Here's to copping a squat,

Heather

Ikea

2011-07-18T05:00:00.000-07:00

The other weekend, Durel, Jack, and I decided to venture to Ikea.

To many people, going to Ikea is not that big of a deal. To us, it is.

Why? Because Ikea is kind of far from our house. Granted, we're lucky to have one in the Austin area, but it's a bit of a haul. Also? Because Ikea is completely and totally overwhelming. I have a tendency to get all worked up whenever I go. I decide that I want EVERYTHING in the store, that my whole design aesthetic has shifted to be totally Scandinavian, and that I hate everything in my house.

Oh, and that I'm hungry.

So, we don't go to Ikea that often. And when we went last weekend, we had a specific goal in mind: Get Big Boy Stuff for Jack.

How did we do?

Grammy and Jack work on their art.

Jack's fitting tribute to the recently deceased Cy Twombly.

Happily seated at his Big Boy table and chairs.

I think the trip was a huge success. Also, we acquired that black and white spotted dog that is on the table in the last picture. Jack will not let the dog out of his sight for one second. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have our first "lovie." Stay tuned for more adventure in Lovie Land.

Hope you have a lovie today,
Heather

Taking a Moment

2011-07-15T05:51:00.000-07:00

The other day, Little Dude and I had a mid-day trip to the doctor. (A little sinus infection; nothing some grape-flavored antibiotics can't fix.) Afterward, we grabbed lunch.

Jack was tired. It was a late lunch, and we were dangerously close to nap time. But, he was calm as he waited for me to do something other than put him at a table, in a high chair, and smile at him.

I snapped this picture.

And honestly, this picture makes me feel like my heart is breaking. Not that anything is wrong. No, on the contrary. But because this is not a picture of a baby. This is a picture of a little boy.

I look into those ocean blue eyes and see that in there is a guy who is going to skateboard, and want to learn to surf, and race bikes with his friends, and bring home frogs. I look into those blue eyes and realize that in there is a boy who will, in a few years, not think it's the coolest thing in the world to have lunch with his mom. Who will not think it's fun to play peek a boo in the castle at the pediatrician's office. Who will not nestle his head into my neck and suck his thumb when he's tired.

And then I remember how my parents tried not to cry when they dropped me off at college, five hundred miles away from home. And I understand.

And then I square my jaw, straighten my shoulders, and recommence enjoying every.single.second with my precious boy.

And then our food came, and he started shoveling sweet potato fries into his mouth, three at a time. And all was well.

Hope you like sweet potato fries,

Heather

Guero's

2011-07-11T06:48:00.001-07:00

In the fair city of Austin, Texas, there is a restaurant named Guero's. It is a ridiculously cool place, on the ridiculously cool South Congress Ave. When friends and family visit, we take them to Guero's. Many of you are reading this and nodding your heads.

Jack has decided that he loves Guero's, too. We've been before, when he loved it less but did really like our waitress. We went on Friday night with Nonna and Papadu and Uncle Dustin. It was a success.

Why? Because Jack ate queso for dinner.

And then got to wear the chip basket on his head.

Hope your day is full of cheese and cool hats,
Heather

Splint

2011-07-07T07:19:00.002-07:00

On Saturday, Jack broke his leg while skydiving.

No, that's not true. On Saturday, Jack broke his leg while scrimmaging with the Hopkins lacrosse team.

Nope, that's not true, either. On Saturday, Jack broke his leg when he misstepped from one carpeted step in our home while Durel, Papadu and I all saw it happen.

Yes, that's true.

How did it happen? He was, at our instruction, getting off the steps, where he is not allowed to play, just as we had taught him to do. He misstepped at the bottom and fell to the ground.

How did you know his leg was broken? We didn't. The fall didn't look bad at all, in total honesty. He cried, and we assumed that it was because he had frightened himself. However, one hour later, when he was still really upset and not walking (bell goes off in head), we realized that we needed him to get checked out.

What did you do? We took Jack to an urgent care center. They examined him and took two x-rays of his leg. The x-rays confirmed what is called a "buckle" fracture. It's also commonly known as a "toddler break." (Insert realization that these are frustratingly common.)

Then what? Since this happened at the very beginning of a long holiday weekend, showing what I hope is not Jack's tendency toward impeccably bad timing for crises, Jack received a splint and instructions to see a pediatric orthopedist asap on Tuesday after the holiday weekend.

The splint:

Happily eating at home with the splint (now wrapped in packing tape and covered by a sock to prevent toddler removal):

Gobbling up Pad Thai with Dad before visiting the orthopedist, still totally unbothered by broken tibia or splint:

Pictures of the cast to come, of course.

Hope your day finds you cool in the face of a crisis and gobbling up the Pad Thai,

Heather

Summer

2011-07-06T05:00:00.000-07:00

When Durel was little, he liked to sit on the sprinkler.

Yup, I just put it on the Interwebs for all to see.

As soon as Jack sits on a sprinkler, I'll be sure to post that, as well.

Hope your day is full of comfortable seating.

Heather

Fedora

2011-07-04T08:58:00.000-07:00

Did you know that Ernest Hemingway had cats with six toes? And that descendants of those cats can be seen in Key West, where Hemingway lived?

Did you know that we're going there soon to see it all, live and in person?

Jack knew. That's why he got the hat.

Hope this finds you well! Happy Fourth!

16 months

2011-06-30T19:05:00.000-07:00

I guess it goes without saying that I can't believe Jack will be 16 months old this weekend. But I just said it anyway. Because I can't.

I figured it might be time to record some of the habits and cute things of this age. For posterity and stuff. You know.

Weight: 22.5 pounds. He is little! But, listen, the kid eats like CRAZY. His teachers can't believe how much he eats.

Our pediatrician's sage advice was this: "Keep feeding him. He'll grow." Have I mentioned that I love our pediatrician?

Words: Mama, Mommy, Dada, Daddy, Pablo, Lucy, doggie, ball, nana (banana)

Oh, and he also says, "HI!" with great enthusiasm when he enters a room, when someone else enters the room, when we pass someone at the grocery store... He is a one man welcoming committee.

Walking: No. Running is more like it.

Food: Costco pizza, of course. But you know, he eats everything. He had ice cream for the first time yesterday. Eyes. Lighting. Up. He also tried, and liked, Thai panang curry. Seriously, the kid eats.

Sleep: He sleeps like a champ. Twelve hours a night. He goes to bed without a fuss because he likes bed. This might be my largest personal victory to date. And that includes law school. Law school is easy compared to functioning on sleep deprivation when your baby won't sleep.

Favorite Things: Balls. Dogs. Yo Gabba Gabba. Being outside.

Least Favorite Things: Rush hour traffic. Nose blowing. When the parent that he wants to hang out with at that moment (gasp) leaves the room.

Best Thing Ever: Tickle fights. He giggles and rolls around and it is the best thing ever, for his mama.

Hope you are rich with Costco pizza and tickle fights, like we are,
Heather

Flashback: Jack in June

2011-06-27T11:50:00.000-07:00

I can't believe this was about a year ago. I remember the day clearly. I hadn't been back at work for very long, following maternity leave. Jack had one of his first ear infections. (Little did I know that there would be more, there would be tubes...) We were hanging out at home and it occurred to me that I should be taking pictures.

You know, that voice that you hear in your head, reminding you that this is all very precious, that outfit is cute (and not pooped on yet), he's just napped and is all rosy-cheeked, and if you don't take pictures RIGHT NOW, you will miss something fleeting and awesome.

So, I grabbed the camera.

And snapped these. Looking at them now, be still my heart. Holy moley, D and I make cute kiddos.

Who, incidentally, turn 16 months old this weekend, and now like to stare meaningfully into the camera while devouring chicken nuggets with messy hair.

I joked with Durel that he looked sort of like the guy from Prodigy with his hair like that. To me, that just means that parenthood doesn't steal your sense of humor. If it disturbs you, pretend I didn't say it.

Hope this finds you with your camera in hand and chicken nuggets on the table.
Heather

Dogs and Balls.

2011-06-24T05:00:00.000-07:00

Jack loves Pablo.

Jack loves Lucy.

Jack loves balls.

I mean, he really loves it. Look at his face! Yikes.

Hope you love stuff today,
Heather

Peas.

2011-06-22T10:52:00.000-07:00

My mother, Jack's Grammy, loves peas. They are her favorite vegetable. Full stop.

We have yet to figure out what Jack's favorite vegetable is. He's burned out on green beans. He's hit and miss with carrots. He's skeptical of broccoli.

Today, I tried peas. Hold on to your hats, people.

There are three stages of peas. First, there is exultation that peas have been served.

Then, there is laser-like focus while consuming the peas.

Then, there is celebration at having eaten all of the peas.

So, uh, suffice it to say, he's Grammy's grandson. The apple doesn't fall far from ... the pea?

Hope you eat your veggies today,
Heather

Rock On, Dad

2011-06-19T05:31:00.000-07:00

Jack loves his dad. He wants Durel to hold him, play with him, take him outside, and hang out and be dudes with him.

Durel loves his Jack. He chooses the best outfits for him, plays ball with him, teaches him how to pet the dogs (gently!) and shows him the ropes.

I love seeing them together. As the wife and the mama, it brings joy to my heart that I can't describe. I can't wait for my guys' adventures to include fishing, camping, ball games, and all that other guy stuff that they'll do together.

To this wonderful dad and his wonderful Little Dude, a heartfelt happy Fathers' Day.

To the dudes, big and little,

Heather