My parents think Jack is perfect.

Now, on principle, I'm not going to disagree with them.  He's amazing.  But...they don't wipe his bottom and deal with his tantrums.  So their rosy view is unfettered by unpleasant details.

My mom is known for her candor.  She is a lady who speaks her mind.

She has told me several times something to this effect:  "I know all of my children were smart.  You could tell.  But I'm telling you, none of you were as smart at this age as Jack.  He's smarter than all of you were."

[As Sara would say, "Damn, Gina!"]

But also, cool.  Because if Jack grows up to like, cure cancer or be President or teach at Harvard, I'd be WAY PSYCHED.  

As if to prove his Grammy's point, Jack spontaneously started asking me how to spell things over the weekend.  In response, I flipped the question around and taught him how to sound things out.  We sounded out everything from racecar to cereal.  No kidding.  And he did a really good job.  

Hmm.  [Have you met my son, the doctor?  It has a certain ring, doesn't it?]

Anyway, apparently today's post is brought to you by the letter "T"...

Which stands for, just off the top of my head and all:

• toothy grins
• timid in front of the camera
• traveling (double decker bus shirt as precursor for a year at the London School of Economics, clearly)
• threenager (oh, is he ever one right now)

Hope your "T" words are terrific and timely today.

Talk soon,
Heather

turning japanese I really think so

I could go on and on about all of the cool things that Jack likes to eat.  But that would be ridiculously annoying.  So, here's the list of what he does not like to eat:  

• macaroni and cheese
• eggs

Other than the fact that if the laws of quantum mechanics and nutrition were inverted, that's pretty much ALL I would eat, um, that's just weird.

Last night, Mom and Dad and Jack and I went out for sushi.  Mom is on a low sodium diet, per her doctors' orders.  It's a challenge.  (Salt is delicious.)

Anyway, Mom really wanted a cheeseburger, and Dad was pretty much on board.  (Cheeseburgers are delicious.)  (See also:  Cheeseburgers are salty.)

So, I chose a moderately risky roulette game to decide the matter of food.  Trying to be a good influence and all.  It shook down like this:

Me:      Jack, what would you like to have for dinner?  Sushi or a cheeseburger?

Jack:    SUSHI!!!

Mom:   Oh...OK, then.  Sushi it is.

Dad:     Wow!  OK.  Sushi then?

Me:      YES.

We had a great time.  Mom and Dad were happy with the choice, in that way that you know you've made the healthy choice and then it rocks.

And as for Jack?  

He got lost in a fog of miso seaweed deliciousness.

Not so lost, however, that he couldn't DEMOLISH a ridiculous amount of them.

He ate that entire bowl of seaweed salad.  And half the soup.

On the way out, I took him over to the sushi bar and taught him to say "arigato" to the sushi chefs.  It was so cute that my heart may or may not have splintered into a quadrillion pieces.

Hope you have a day low in sodium and high in satisfaction.

Talk soon,

Heather

viva la cookie

You know how stereotypical grandmothers like to give their grandchildren cookies and stuff?

Jack's grandmothers are no exception.

In particular, Jack's Grammy (my mom) has found the best bakery in Austin which makes the fanciest and most delectable cookies.

And she frequently brings Jack special goodies from there to enjoy.

Case in point:  an Easter egg cookie so beautiful that I actually Instagrammed it before I gave it to him.

Also?  Who is this big kid?
Also?  We'll talk about his hair shortly.  Stay tuned.

I'm so happy that Jack has his Grammy and Nonna (Durel's mom) to spoil him.  I daresay it's worth the "unspoiling" that Durel and I are left to do once expectations are set far too high for normal life.  

(No, we don't eat cookies for breakfast, Jack.)

Hope someone brings you a seriously kick ass cookie today.

Talk soon,

Heather

quakers

Jack's Pop (my dad) went to Penn.

To be clear, he went to the University of Pennsylvania, which is an Ivy League university located in Philadelphia.  Without any judgment whatsoever, it is not Penn State.  (How's that, Brynn?)

My dad is also a die-hard college basketball fan.  To Penn's credit, they have the coolest basketball arena in the country.  It's The Palestra, and is the oldest basketball stadium in continuous use in the United States.  It opened in 1927, and is still used by Penn and the rest of the Big Five today.

Image credit.  
I didn't realize it is also referred to as the Cathedral of College Basketball.  Nice.

My dad and I used to go to Philly to see Penn games together.  Afterward, we would go out to dinner, usually somewhere on South Street.  Those evenings are some of my fondest memories.  Quality time spent hanging out with my dad, seeing his pride for his alma mater, and learning about basketball from him.  Good stuff, indeed.

Penn's basketball program is, well, filled with spirit if not with success.  Penn's last trip to the Final Four was in 1979.  

But, as we know, true fans never give up.  And Pop knows that.  And so does the next generation.

Hope you don't give up on anything today.

Talk soon,
Heather

early Christmas, part three

Three is my max for multiple-part posts, in case you were wondering.  

(I mean, how many posts can she squeeze out of one weekend?)

The answer is a super lot, but I limit myself to three.  Promise.

So, my father in law is an excellent cook.  (Durel the Elder.  That sounds so Lord of the Rings, doesn't it?  In real life, we call him PapaDu.)  For Christmas this year, PapaDu made Gruyere popovers.  Behold.

I took a picture through the glass of the oven door, my love of bread and cheese is so deep.  They were awesome.

PapaDu also let Jack help him open presents.  Jack wore the requisite bow on his head, originated by my family. (The Irish Clan Davies, of the wine drinking, potato eating, and bow wearing.)

Also, Jack made it clear that he would like to be a pirate when he grows up.  Or now.  Whichever.

I hope your chosen career path also involves a boat and snazzy head wear.

Talk soon,
Heather

Relaxed

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

Peas.

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

Here Come the Men in Plaid

We had a super laid back Easter this year.  We didn't do an egg hunt.  We didn't overdose on Peeps and marshmallow eggs.  We just hung out and relaxed for the day, and that was perfect.

Durel boiled crabs for my parents, which was the first time they've had that classic Maryland treat prepared in that way.  In Maryland, crabs are doused with Old Bay seasoning and steamed to bright red perfection.  In Lousiana, crabs and other crustaceans are boiled in spicy water to the same perfection.  Included in the pot are what we affectionately refer to as "the groceries," which includes:  sausage pieces, corn on the cob, celery, garlic, onions, and other yummy goodies to enjoy.

Anyway, a true Marylander is initially suspicious that there is "another way" to cook crabs.  Mom and Dad suspended their skepticism and we dove right in.  The result?  Let's just say that minds were blown.

And that plaid shorts were worn by all.

Hope the Easter Bunny was good to you,
Heather

Jacques and Granddad

Yesterday, Jack and I joined my parents for a lovely lunch at a French bistro that recently opened near their house.  It is so French, in fact, that they had no soup du jour.  Why?  Because they are closing next week for one of their several trips back to France to relax, refresh, and dream up new menu ideas.


You had me at bonjour.


Anyway, as I enjoyed my seared salmon with tapenade butter (served on a slate tile for extra presentation points), Granddad and Jacques hung out in their delightfully French surroundings.

La vie est belle.


à votre santé,
Proper Paige

Grammies are the Best

Aren't they?  Jack thinks so.

Hope this finds you well.
Heather

Jack's Baptism

In what can only be described as "real, grown-up parenting," Durel and I decided to have Jack baptized at our church.  Gone are the days of yore, when 9 AM on Sunday morning was for sleeping off the previous night's transgressions before waking for a leisurely brunch. 

You know what?  That's great with me.  I prefer this.  It rocks.

Uncle Dustin and Aunt Geri did us the honor of agreeing to be Jack's godparents.  We have long known that Jack would have a special bond with them, but this just enhances that bond.  Good stuff.

The service was lovely; a total of 4 babies were baptized.  Jack was first.  Durel, Dustin, Geri and I did a good job of speaking in unison, reading our lines correctly from the Book of Common Prayer, not crying (Geri and I were at risk of this), and generally behaving well in public on this momentous occasion.

Jack also did a good job.  He didn't cry, puke, or have a massive diaper blow-out.  He did make his presence known, though.  I think we're dealing with quite a personality here.  (Not a newsflash; just an update.)  He "talked" during the service with explosively loud "DADADADA's."  He flipped over backward in Durel's arms and watched the sermon upside down, making everyone giggle.  When the water was applied to his head, he looked at her with a priceless expression of, "What are you doing??"  All in all, Jack was in the house, and everybody knew it.

All of Jack's grandparents were in attendance for the special day.  It was truly a wonderful day and a good time was had by all.

After all the excitement of church, Jack took a pro-style nap when we got home.  As a result, he missed his Baptism Brunch, for which I had gone to Martha Stewart levels of preparation.

The menu:

• fruit salad
• savory mini-scones
• sausage balls (my nod to the fact that I have birthed a Texan)
• Paula Deen's crock pot macaroni and cheese (shut the front door; it's amazing) (leave out the eggs, by the way)
• cake
• mimosas
• coffee

It was great.  Have I said that ten times yet?  I am delighted with how it went.  Grown-up parenting is pretty stinking fun.

Hope this finds you well,

Heather

Wordless Wednesday: Granddad

Overdue Update #1: Grandparents

Okay, so Jack is a month old, and this post is about a month overdue.  Oops.  Sorry!  I'm a little sleep deprived!

With Jack's arrival crowned the debut of his four grandparents.  (The Davies grandparents have years of practice with Eli and Francie, of course, but they are brand new grandparents to Jack!)

Without further ado, introducing:

Grammy Davies

Granddad Davies

All together:  Jack, Grammy, and Granddad Davies!

Also introducing:

Nonna Bernard

Jack, Nonna, and PapaDu Bernard!

Jack is destined to be spoiled by all four of his adoring grandparents.  We are bracing ourselves already!