Durel and I were talking the other evening about how, even at our ripe old ages, our parents still kiss us firmly on the heads.  

My family has always been pretty affectionate, so I never thought about it.  Durel's family is less demonstrative, so he did.

Here is my operating theory:  No matter how old you get, you are still your parents' baby.  And they will kiss your head firmly, forever.  Because it's in their parental DNA.  They've been kissing you like that since you were born and there simply is no good reason to stop.

*     *     *     *     *  

So, Jack is huge now.  He has seen the first Harry Potter movie and asks me repeatedly when he can go to wizarding school.  (I see Harry Potter themed parties in our future.)  He will play Quidditch, of course.  He anticipates being in Gryffendor, but Durel and I are quick to posit the virtues of Slytherin.  (Seriously.  Slytherin is cool.  It's how you use your power that makes the difference, n'est pas?)

He's big on cocoa, also.  So, imagine the kismet that occurred when one of the items on his monthly homework calendar was to "drink a cup of hot chocolate and use your five senses to describe it."

We got to work, and here's what we learned.  

Me:      OK, Jack.  Let's use your eyes.  What does your cocoa look like?

Jack:    Clear vomit.

Me:      ...Oh!  Uh...OK.

Jack:     You know what I mean. It's all bubbly.

Me:       Rrrrright.  How about your nose?  How does your cocoa smell?

Jack:     (sniffs)  Chocolate!

Me:       Great.  What about touch?  How does it feel?

Jack:     (unceremoniously sticks finger into hot cocoa)  Oh!  LIKE FIRE!

Me:      Wow.  OK.  How does it sound?

Jack:     (looks at me as if I'm a bit daft)  Like bubbles popping.

Me:      OK, most important one!  Let's taste it!

Anyway, that was a successful (and enlightening) exercise.  Here are a few shots of Jack at his best lately. I took them in between stealing every opportunity to kiss him firmly on the head.

As we do.

Holding a baby kangaroo at his friend Addie's amazeballs birthday party.

We big puffy heart love Menchies. 

He stole my sandwich at Panera.

He also ate about half of my pho.  I swear, I feed him.

Hope kisses are firm and vomit is only theoretical in your world today.

Talk soon,
Heather

oh say can you see

Last night, my parents came over for dinner.  We had a great time.  We ordered Chinese.  Jack, in his inimitable style, ate seaweed and cucumber salad, shu mai, and a crab rangoon.  We chatted and laughed, caught up on life, and enjoyed one another's company.

Jack finished his dinner before the rest of us and went to play in the living room until the (dreaded) announcement of bedtime.  

Shortly thereafter, I saw something in the living room catch Durel's eye.  I turned to look.

The football game was beginning.  The national anthem was being performed.  Jack had stopped his play to stand quietly with his hand on his heart and listen.

Oh my God.

I hopped up and joined him without saying a word.

Durel wasn't far behind.  We stood, together, hands over our hearts.

I was filled with pride and gratitude.

Hope you feel pride and gratitude today.

Talk soon,

Heather

love wins

Apparently, five years old is when you start contemplating marriage.

Jack has informed Durel and I that he will be marrying his friend, Caitlyn.  We are great with this.  Caitlyn is smart and pretty.  We are good friends with her parents.  This is a solid choice.

And there's no stress.  I mean,we don't even have to start planning the wedding for like 20 years.

*     *     *     *     *

We have explained to Jack that the person you marry is the person that you love.  We've also told him that marriage is for grown-ups who want to spend their whole lives together and make a family.

We have explained that sometimes that means boys marry boys and girls marry girls.  Love is what matters.

I am so proud that the Supreme Court made this the unequivocal truth today.

Hope you feel one step closer to real equality today.

Talk soon,
Heather

brave new world

One time, when Jack was like 2 1/2 or 3, he was sick.  He wouldn't eat anything and was getting all tired and little kid listless.  Which is the saddest kind of listlessness because it is hard, I tell you, hard, to keep a little kid down.

I had an idea.  Let's give him a MILKSHAKE.  

But then I had a thought.  He's 2 1/2.  If I tell him something is a "milkshake," he will not drink it.  Taken literally, that sounds gross.  Little kids can be surprisingly literal.

Hmm. 

So, I told him it was "ice cream juice."  He drank it.  He perked up.  I perked up.  He felt better and I felt brilliant.

That feels like a really long time ago.

*     *     *     *     *

Now, this kid is bringing his glider planes to show and tell.  His friends listen to him talk about how he made them, and then they go to the gym and fly them.

He's wearing his Capture the Flag shirt, and he knows what Capture the Flag is.

He's wearing plaid shorts because in a perfect world, he wears plaid shorts every single day.

He is five going on twenty.  Or eighty, what with the plaid shorts.  

He asks me at least once a week when he starts kindergarten.  He has informed me that things will be very different in kindergarten.

Don't I know it, kid.

Hope you can rock some plaid shorts today.

Talk soon,
Heather

rescued by a hipster

We didn't mean to give up on Jack's hair.

We were just sort of out of ideas.

You see, Jack didn't really have any hair until he was close to 2 years old.  When he did start to grow some lovely locks, they defied our best attempts at styling.

We would let it grow.  We would comb it to the side.  Nanoseconds later, all the hair had come to a neat little point on Jack's forehead.  

We tried pomade.  I am inept with pomade.  

We cut it short.  That was OK.  But not, like, amazing.  Like Jack is.  It just wasn't the hair he deserved.

Here is a summary of our hair challenges from the past 2 years.

We had taken him to the place where you sit in a car and get your hair cut.  We didn't really like that place.  It was expensive and it smelled weird.

We took him to the cheap place.  You get what you pay for.

We took him to the "not as cheap also sports themed" place.  They're sort of (really) rude there.

Sooooo, for lack of a better idea, Durel took Jack to the barber where he goes.  It's a retro hipster man barber.  You know.

EUREKA.

Jack now has the hair he deserves.  We were saved by our hipster barber, suspenders and all.

Hope you feel ridiculously good looking today.

Talk soon,
Heather

jack these days

Jack is really something these days.  And by "really something," I mean a joy, a genius, a goof, a challenge, a mystery, a blessing, and a firecracker.

See for yourself.

*     *     *     *     *

On beverages:

Jack:    Mom.  I'm a grown-up now!
Me:      Oh, you are?  Wow!
Jack:    So, I'd like an iced Americano.
Me:      Uh...no, that's just what Mommy drinks.  It's not for you.
Jack:    Oh. Well, then I'm just a kid again.
Me:      Oh.  Um, OK.
Jack:    So, now that I'm a kid again, can I have some chocolate milk?

*     *     *     *     *

On bubbles and soccer:

Jack:  "Mom!  You have to pop them!  Don't forget to KICK them, like soccer!"
Me:    "Right!  You know how to play soccer!"
Jack:  "Mom.  Soccer is easy.  If someone has the ball, you just KICK KICK KICK until you get it from them."

*     *     *     *     *

On bedtime:

Me:      "Jack, you have ten minutes until bedtime."
Jack:    "But MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM, I didn't get to play with my toys!"
Me:      "Yes, you did.  You played with them all day."
Jack:    "Can I have just a few couple of minutes???"
Me:      "You can have two minutes while I get your bath ready.  Then, it's bed time."
Jack:    "Well...How about this?"
Me:      [thinking:  Holy shit!  He's negotiating!]
Jack:    "How abouuuuuuuuuut, I have ELEVEN minutes?"

*     *     *     *     *

On Sawyer:

"Mom.  I need BUNK BEDS.  I will sleep on the top and Sawyer can sleep on the bottom.  Because we need to do EVERYTHING together."

*     *     *     *     *

Hope someone keeps you on your toes today.

Talk soon,
Heather

chippy the christmas elf

Well, I did it.  It's the last day of 2014, and we STILL don't have an Elf on the Shelf.  

Jack requested one this year.  He was pretty cute about it (as he is), but I stayed strong.

Jack:  "Mom.  We need an elf on the shelf, to watch us!"

Me:    "No, we don't.  Santa is watching.  We're covered."

Jack:   "But, Mom!  I've already named him!  His name is Chippy!"

I'm sorry for you, Chippy.  I hope you find a nice home somewhere.  I hope you entertain other kids with G-rated holiday antics involving candy canes and powdered sugar and whatever else you get into.  

Editor's Note:  I specify "G-rated" antics not because I have a devious mind (at least, not in this context), but because I can't not think of the Inappropriate Elf contest held by Baby Rabies in years past, which is full of gems such as:

(Image credit)
Because if I can't do this, I'm not doing it at all.

As luck would have it, Jack has decided that the Christmas pajamas I got him (Sawyer has a matching set, natch) are his "elf suit."

And so I ask you, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, if I have a real life elf, why do I need a fake one named Chippy?

My elf is much cooler, anyway.

Elf Jack accompanied Uncle James and Durel to Central Market for some holiday fixings.
En route, they enjoyed a leisurely holiday lunch at Red's Porch.
These pjs are street style.

Elf Jack listened to some block rockin' beats on Eli's iPad.
These pjs mix.

Elf Jack posed on his new skateboard from Santa,
right next to Durel's new skateboard from Santa.
These pjs don't bail.

Elf Jack likes taun tauns, Green Lantern Legos, and skateboards.
These pjs are ALL BOY.

Hope your street style dazzles someone today.

Talk soon.  Like next year.  

Heather

brussel sprouts and grandiose aspirations

Before you have children, you have grandiose aspirations of what your parenting style will be.  

Those grandiose aspirations are also TOTAL BULLSHIT.  

This is because they are concocted, in large part, as you sip a nice Chilean Malbec at a nice restaurant while you pretend that you are not judging the nice family across the dining room.  You are, in fact, judging them, and you should not be.  First of all, because it's not nice to judge people.  Second of all, you should be applauding them because if they are at the same nice restaurant as you, they are doing a lot of things right.

As a matter of fact, that family might be mine.  So you should definitely be sending over a dessert to congratulate us for doing such a good job.  OK?

*     *     *     *     *

I, for example, was certain that my children would not be the ones eating food while at the grocery store.

[Hang on; let me stop laughing AT MYSELF.]  

Right.  Anyway.  I also was certain that my kids would not be the ones who refused to eat anything but chicken nuggets and french fries.

As for Jack, I will say that much is true.  He isn't that kid.  He will eat almost anything.  However, the route we took to get there and how I feel about it are VERY different than my naive pre-children self would have imagined.

We have always offered Jack bits of what we were eating.  And he happened to like most of it.  We are really, ridonkulously lucky.  End of story.

*     *     *     *     *

Here is Jack the Gourmand through the ages (so far).

*     *     *     *     *

Here's the latest addition to the gallery.

Seaweed salad, with a side of HAM.

Hope you crave something salty and silly today.

Talk soon,

Heather

life according to Jack, fall 2014

On sushi:
"I LOVE FISH!"

Escolar, to be precise.

On Sawyer:
"I'm going to call him Little Peanut.  He can call me Big Peanut.  No...he can call me Big Brother."

On slimy things:
"Mr. Scott brought goo to class.  Goo...it's like slime.  But it's NOT slime.  Goo is just goo."

On bath time:
"But I don't want to take a bath!  I don't stink!  I promise!"

On Batman:
"Mom!  Make Robin hurry up!  We have to beat the bad guys!  WE DON'T HAVE MUCH TIME!"

On bedtime:
"Hey Mom, I'm not tired.  So let's play with toys all the time until I'm tired.  Isn't that a good idea??"

Hope there's lots of play time in your day.

Talk soon,
Heather

in like a lion and in like a lamb

Much to Jack's delight, he and Sawyer now attend the same school.  This school follows our local public school calendar, so the new year starts on Monday.  

(This is one of the times when my Maryland upbringing makes me feel baffled by Texas.  School NEVER started in August when I was growing up.  Not to mention that it was 102 degrees today.  When is the season for apples and pencils and jackets?  Sigh.)

Anyway, also much to Jack's delight, he will be an official big kid starting on Monday.  He will be in Pre-K.  He will be, in school parlance, a Lion.  His fellow Pre-K kids will also be in the Jaguars and Cheetahs classrooms.  They are clearly the most sophisticated students in the school.

The promotion to Lion comes after Jack's successful year as a Dolphin.  I attempted to document Jack's last day as a Dolphin photographically.  I was rebuffed.

Sawyer, in contrast, is a Lamb.  And he will continue to be a Lamb on Monday.  Far from his fierce and sophisticated Lion brother, Sawyer is still cuddly.

Though apparently, based on sartorial clues, he aspires to be a Tiger.  I guess we'll have to see.

(Side note:  Does anyone else think that Sawyer looks EXACTLY LIKE MY MOM?)

I hope your day involves both cuddles and sophistication.

Talk to you soon.
Heather

hanging out

When Jack says "hang out," he pronounces it with a hard "G."

So, Jack doesn't hang out.  He hanGs out.

I guess Jack sees Durel and I enough that time spent with us doesn't qualify as "hanGing out."  However,  it's quite the opposite with Aunt Kiki and Uncle Dagwood.

See?

I hope you get to spend some time hanging out (hard G or not) with someone you totally dig today.

Talk soon,
Heather

the world according to Jack

On coloring:

Mom.  I don't scribble scrabble anymore.  I color in the LINES.

On fruit:

I just like strawberries.  I don't like bananas.  Oh wait!  I like bananas. (Jack, would you like a banana?) No. I only like bananas at school.

On reality:

(Hi, Superman!)
Mom!  I'm not Superman!  I'm Jack.  It's just a shirt.

On maturing:

Yesterday, when I was a BABY, I sucked my thumb.  Now, I'm a big boy.  And I don't suck my thumb.  I quit.

On negotiating:

(Jack, it's bedtime.)
Aw, MAN!  Can I have just ten more minutes?
(You can have five minutes.)
Can I have THREE minutes?
(Sure.)

At Whole Foods:

Mom, I'm thirsty.  I see some drinks over there.  I'll be RIGHT BACK.

Hope someone calls you precocious today.

Talk soon,
Heather

a life aquatic

Hey you guys.

Jack can swim.  

Like, he goes underwater and swims to the steps.  He can dive down and grab toys.  He uses his arms and legs in appropriate motions to move through the water.

He's pretty psyched about it.

We're pretty psyched about it, too.  

You can't NOT swim when you grow up in Texas.  It's hotter than hell.   Until you are old enough to drink frozen margaritas, swimming is pretty much the best way to cool off.  (Even when you're an adult, swimming *while* drinking a margarita is pretty great.)

On a related note, Jack is now seriously grown up.  He's 4 and a half.  He does very four and a half year old things like: strolling through the kitchen to the pantry and grabbing a snack.  Or, opening the fridge, grabbing two carrots, making the dogs sit, and rewarding them with the carrots as a treat.  (Our dogs love carrots.)

Also, his current career aspirations are to "feed Sawyer from a bottle" and "go swimming."  

I don't blame him one bit.

Hope you stroll somewhere for a snack today.

Talk soon,
Heather

a lyrical genius?

Jack takes music classes at school once a week.  Since he's 4 going on 14, we don't always hear the details of how music class was, but he drops clues that it's going well.

-- Walking around the house, singing, "Hello.  I love you won't you tell me your name?  Hello.  I love you let me jumpintoyourgame."

-- Observing on TV:  "Mom.  That's just an ACOUSTIC guitar."

Apparently his burgeoning music career has also made him listen more critically to the radio when we are in the car.  Specifically, he isn't sure that most songs are named the right, or most logical, thing.

Jack:    Mom, what is this song called?
Me:      Magic.
Jack:    [listens]  It should be called "I Don't Know."

Jack:     Mom, what is this song called?
Me:       Pompeii.
Jack:     [listens]  It should be called "If You Close Your Eyes."





The one song he hasn't bothered to rename, because we are both far too busy singing it, is La La La.  Don't judge.  It's catchy.

(Editor's Note:  The real video is cool, but seeing Sam Smith live is better.  And then David Letterman comes out at the end and is delightfully awkward.)



So, in the wake of becoming a big brother, that's what Jack's been up to lately.

Hope you rock out today.

Talk soon,
Heather

bad movies and debatable lunches

Every city has an Achilles heel, right?  (Except London, maybe?)  When I lived in San Francisco, I realized it is pretty close to perfect.  Except for the outrageous cost of living.  Oh, and the ever-present threat of a devastating earthquake.

Austin often seems perfect, as well.  And then it's 104 in the summer and you think, "Oh, Austin is perfect except for the heat.  Well, I can go get a frozen margarita and handle that."

By January, you feel smug because you only have to read about the "polar vortex" or whatever the hell is dumping feet of snow on my sister and friends back East.  You text them, "How much snow?"  "Are you OK?"  And then you put your flip flops back on because it's Austin.

But then cedar happens.  Mountain Cedar trees pollinate from mid-December until early March, and they hit their highest levels in January.  The wind blows the pollen off the trees in clouds, and misery ensues.

Not even kidding.

If you live in Austin, just skim this because you already know all the pain.  For the rest of you, cedar means wheezing, snorting, your nose running off your face, clearing your throat and/or coughing so often that you no longer realize you are doing it, buying ONLY the Kleenex with lotion or aloe in them, and comparing notes with everyone about what you're taking versus what they're taking in case you need to switch.  (Note to self:  Buy stock in Flonase.)

When you are wheezing and snorting and 7 months pregnant, this trifecta means you are not taking your energetic almost-four year old outside as much as you should.  Because, self-preservation.  It does mean that you start exploring indoor activities with determination.

*    *     *     *     *

Jack and I went to see The Nut Job last weekend.  You know, the one about the squirrels to decide to do a heist of a nut store? 

Don't worry if you don't.  It is bad.  It is a bad movie.  Jack didn't even like it.  

Halfway through he turned to me and said, "Momma, can we go home?"

And since we were at Alamo and I hadn't gotten the check yet, I said no, but that speaks volumes, dude.

*     *     *     *     *

I tried to up my game on Monday, when Jack and I were both off for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.  I took him to a "jumpy place" so that he could GET IT OUT while I was safely indoors, blowing my nose and following him around from foam pit to inflatable slide.

That was a success.  He loved it.  He GOT IT OUT.  And then, it was time for lunch.

We went to Whole Foods because I needed a few things.  And, I love eating lunch at Whole Foods.  We picked up our supplies and then grabbed food.

Jack chose some cantaloupe, a slice of pepperoni pizza, and a chocolate cookie.  Oh, and a can of sparkling water, which he calls "bubbles."

Life was good.

*     *     *     *     *

On the drive home, I was feeling good.  Accomplished, even, in that way that only the mother of a small child can feel accomplished when you've pleased them without spending one zillion dollars or losing your mind.  In that way that even involved fruit and exercise!  In that way that knows that "Nap" is the next event on the agenda and that sounds damn good, too.

A voice interrupted my self-congratulatory reverie from the backseat.

Jack:   Momma, I wanted to eat lunch AT A RESTAURANT.

Me:    (making the split-second decision to be just a tiny bit deceptive)  We did!

Jack:   No, we DIDN'T.

Me:    (Thinking - True!  Well, shit.)  Well, what do you call that place where we had lunch?

Jack:   (I swear to you he SCOFFED.)  Momma.  We ate lunch at the SUPERMARKET.

[pause]

Me:    Well, that's one of my favorite places to eat lunch.  So, I guess that's that, isn't it?

[no comment]

*     *     *     *     *

Hope your city is pretty perfect today, your movie choices are solid, and your lunch is just where you want it to be.

Talk soon,

Heather

things that are OVER

Well, 2013 is over.

Bye bye, 2013.  You were a tricky one.  

I've got some pretty big plans for 2014.  I'm not going to bore you with them or turn them into a blog feature.  Suffice it to say that having a healthy baby in April is my most significant goal for 2014, and the rest are pretty cool, too. 

Over the weekend (not really a weekend, but isn't it weird when New Years is in the middle of the week?), Jack informed us of some things that are over in his world.

(Context:  Jack's favorite color has been yellow for like a year.  When he's serious about something, you'd better be, too.  We've been in his Yellow Phase, wholeheartedly, for so long that apparently,  I was taking it for granted.)

Jack:     Yellow is OVER.  I like white now.

Me:       Really?  White is your favorite color now?

Jack:    Yes.  Yellow is OVER.

Me:      OK...

I had barely had time to wonder how long the White Phase would last, or how on earth it would work, since white is not any mom's choice when an almost four year old is involved.  Just as soon as it started, it ended.

We were at the car wash.

Jack LOATHES the drive through car wash.  Despite this, I selfishly take him with me through said car wash pretty regularly.  We talk about the water and the soap, we sing songs, we try all sorts of things to make it less scary.  But when Jack and I are out running errands, I don't tend to forego something that I really need to do because he doesn't want to do it.  I guess I'm a hard ass, I don't know.

Anyway, we went to the fancy car wash this time, which Jack loves.  He loves it because he doesn't have to sit in the car and be scared.  He likes it because they have free popcorn and benches where you can sit and watch the cars go through.  To him, there is no comparison.  Even I have to admit, the fancy car wash is pretty delightful.

So, there we were, having our snacks, when a very nice and fancy black Mercedes sedan comes cruising through the washing line.

Jack:     THAT CAR IS MY FAVORITE COLOR!

Me:       Huh?

Jack:     (in a rushed voice) Yellow is over.  White is over, too.  My new favorite is BLACK AND THAT CAR IS BLACK AND THATS MY FAVORITE COLOR!!!

Me:     Oh!  OK.  Cool.  (I mean, what are you going to say?)

It's too early for him to be entering his Goth phase.  Right?

Yes.  Perrier (which he chose) and khakis do not a Goth phase make.  OK.

Oh, also, he informed us that apples are OVER.  He likes grapes now.

Hope you make up your mind about what's over for you and joyfully embrace something new.

Talk soon,
Heather

things overheard at our house

It's busy times, folks.

Durel and I are both super busy at work.  Jack is busy anticipating Christmas.  We are buying presents, getting our home ready for guests, decorating, and the like.  (We also make time for cuddling on the couch in our pajamas and watching excellent things like Monsters, Inc. and the Grinch.)

Jack is extremely busy saying things that amuse and surprise us.

Here are a few:

From top to bottom:  Sully, Mike Wazowski, and Boo.  FYI.

Jack:  I want to name the baby "Boo."
Me:   OK, well if we don't name the baby, "Boo," what else would you name it?
Jack:  Mike.
Me:    Mike Wazowski?
Jack:  [with what can only be described as a withering look]  NO.  Mike BERNARD.

*     *     *     *     *

(About five times a day, at full volume):  CHRISTMAS IS AAAAALLLLLLMOST COMING!!!

*     *     *     *     *

(When I was sick in bed the other day):  Do you want to read a book all by yourself?  Here.
(Hands me a book from my nightstand.)

*     *     *     *     *

Mom, Lucy's going to dress up as Darth Vader.

Not sure Lucy minds being villified, if it gets her pettings.

*     *     *     *     *

Mom.  HEY MOM.  Momma!  Moooommmmmyyyy....  MOM!

*     *     *     *     *

Mom.  Hey Mom.  Mom!  I want a pickle!  Mmm nom nom nom nom I LOVE PICKLES.

Hope your day is both salty and sweet.

Talk soon,
Heather

the one where Jack and Santa are totally up to something

Last year, Jack wanted nothing to do with Santa.

This year, he definitely got the memo that Santa is a good person to have in your corner.

Not only did I not have to sit in the chair for the photo, but apparently Jack and Santa became fast friends.

See?

They sat down for a meeting of the minds and seemed surprised that there was a pesky paparazzi there snapping away.  Hey man, we're trying to talk here.

Now, let's get down to business...  This is trouble.  Clearly.

Safety meeting successfully held, they politely posed for the paps, looking angelic.

But we know better.

After this, Jack gave Santa a hug and they "ho ho ho'ed" at each other.

Hope your day is delightfully conspiratorial.

Talk soon,
Heather