Grammies are the Best

Aren't they?  Jack thinks so.

Hope this finds you well.
Heather

Crackers for Crackers

For the Love of Carbs, He's My Son

I blame my love of carbs on being Irish.  I'm not sure that my heritage is entirely to blame, but I figure that since my ancestors loved potatoes and poetry in equal parts, they can carry the load on this.

I was pleasantly surprised when Jack's (excellent) teachers at daycare (we call it school) informed me sheepishly the other day that they had given him crackers.  He seemed hungry, they explained, and we had previously discussed how it's high time to introduce self-feeding and textures into the baby food mix.

I reassured them that was 100% fine with me, and they were relieved.  They continued with enthusiasm, then, to tell me that the crackers were Saltines, and that Jack really liked them.

I just smiled.  He IS my son, I thought with pride.

Of course, we went straight home and ate more Saltines.

Ooh, what is this?

Ah, very good.   My favorite!  Saltines!

Cracker-eating victory is mine!

Hope this finds you well (and with plenty of crackers),
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