Almost Breaks My Heart

The one year anniversary of the day of your birth is close. I've said it and thought it again and again and will keep saying and thinking it...I don't know how it can be. You turned 11 months four days ago. I can count on one hand the number of weeks until your first year of life is gone forever.

It is coming too soon.

Much, much too soon.

A year since that evening in the hospital? A year since I first saw your face? A year since I first held you and kissed you and named you and brought you home?

How?

I want to write about you, all about you, one more time before you pass that huge mark.

I haven't been nearly so dedicated at writing about you all these months as I would have liked to have been. There was so much, so much I should have, could have written. But, two little boys makes for one busy mommy! Though not all the memories are in type or on paper, they're all in my mind and in my heart, and they are my greatest treasures.

I lived each day with you and loved you to my heart's fullest, and that's what counts.

You are such a beautiful boy.

So beautiful with your blond hair and your curls. I've let your hair grow and grow and it is becoming quite wild. In the last couple of days you've been mistaken for a girl twice. I should probably consider busting out the scissors soon.

But I am struggling to cut those baby curls off forever.

But,

I know whether I do or not,

1 year gone is coming.

Haircut or no haircut, there's no stopping it.

I am struggling with losing my baby forever.

After 1 year old you will still be a baby,

And yet, not.

That word, "toddler"...I don't know if I can use it to describe you, I just don't think I can bring myself to do it.

But you are most certainly on your way to toddling.

Not that you are walking yet...not quite yet.

Your preferred method of transportation is still crawling. And boy, are you quick! I always seem to underestimate how quickly you will get from A to B. How quickly you will get back to that thing I just took away from you in the room clear across the house that I just carried you out of. (You hate it when I do that.)

Though you're not walking just yet, you are certainly working your way there. Pulling yourself up on things and lowering yourself back down is old hat to you, easy peasy. You cruise along the furniture here and there, this way and that, but you're not cruising circles around the living room just yet...you usually hit all fours whenever you really want to move. There have been a few very brief moments where you've let go of whatever you were holding on to and stood there unsupported for a tiny second before plopping back to the floor. We haven't witnessed you make any attempts at steps yet, at least on your own.

And that is just fine with me.

I am not going out of my way to encourage you to take steps on your own just yet.

I am not ready for you to walk.

I am not ready for you to grow up.

You can take as long as you want, I am in no hurry.

I love it when you crawl toward me, sit up on your knees and reach your arms up for me. Or pull yourself to standing on my jeans and cling to my leg until I pick you up.

That never, ever fails to warm my lil' heart. (No matter how inconvenient the timing might be.)

Being needed by you is always nice.

You are getting your top 4 teeth in...maybe even a 5th or 6th too. Such a cute toothy boy, you. But you grind them! Stop grinding them! I know that little discovery is probably very interesting to you, but dear baby, please stop grinding your teeth!

You wave, and oh its cute, it kills me every time. For awhile your wave was a silly sort of leg-slapping arm motion, but now it really is a wave. You wave when you hear "Hi" and "Goodbye." I will never get enough of it, you can wave at me forever.

More things about you...

The desire of your heart is to get to the bathroom.

So you can get to the bathtub.

You love the bathtub and you love baths.

If the door to the bathroom is left open, and especially if anyone is in the bathroom, you make a beeline to get in there and immediately go to check out the tub. You like to pull yourself up and look in the tub, and you're tall enough that you could just lean over and fall right in! Hence, the reason we keep the door shut. =)

When its bathtime and I sit you on my lap and start to run your bathwater you squirm and struggle like there's no tomorrow to get into the water...it is honestly, physically difficult to keep you from diving in headfirst! Once you're in you splash and splash and make a mess to rival those of your big brother.

(Between the two of you I think more of our bathtowels are used to mop the floor than to dry human bodies.)

Changing your diaper is not a pleasant experience for either of us. You.do.not.like.it.one.bit. You are too busy and you are upset the moment I place you on the changing table. You twist and squirm and cry and protest in every way possible until I finally get your bum covered!

I always joke that you are a scavenger. You find the tiniest, and I mean most miniscule little bits of anything that are on the floor and try to consume them. I try to keep those floors clean, but boy, guaranteed, if there is a crumb or anything bigger hiding anywhere (or some remnant of a snack that your big brother left out and within your reach), you will find it. And then when we try to catch you to fish it out of your mouth, you take off running...well, crawling (as afore-mentioned). But run-crawling.

So little, and you already know when you're busted. Its so cute.

Other hobbies of yours are playing with shoes (ew....sorry I always take them away), watching the washer or dryer spin and trying to climb into or pull things out of the dishwasher when its open.

Oh yes, and hanging out with that brother of yours. You watch him intently and seek to do whatever he does, play with whatever he's playing with. He doesn't always like sharing with you, but he loves you to bits. He is always asking to hold you (but of course you squirm away). He is always trying to hug you (but of course its more like tackling you).

Tommy can get a little rough with you sometimes, but you're pretty tough. Little-brother tough.

Watching the two of you play together is one of my favorite things. I can't wait to see you grow together. Though I'm sure that breaking up fights between you might become a staple of my every-day-life before too long, I know you will love each other and be best buds.

I love that you both have a brother.

And boy, does your daddy love you. It never ceases to amaze me how your sweet-tiny-beautiful-human-being-cuteness can turn your broad-shouldered, rugged manly-man of a father into a marshmallow. He lights up with a huge grin when he sees you after a day away. He's over the moon for you. (And you are always excited to see him, too...you take off run-crawling when you hear his voice coming through the door.)

Your daddy is a fun-rough-and-tumble sorta Daddy. Though you're still a little small for rough-and-tumble (as I'm always reminding him), Daddy always finds a way to include you in the action. You particularly love jumping on the bed (with Daddy's help) with your big brother.

(I think mommies are supposed to object to jumping on the bed...something about monkeys comes to mind...but I don't so much mind. Some of the best times we 4 have are jumping and rolling around on the big pillows and blankets of me and Daddy's big ole bed, dontchya think?)

(By the by, Daddy's a little bummed sometimes 'cause you're a bit of a momma's boy. I secretly sorta like that you are a bit of a momma's boy, but hey, give your daddy a few more of those snuggles. And what the heck, let him put you back to sleep at night too! ;) That would be nice...

...Cause you are not such a fabulous sleeper at night. Nope. We need to work on that little buddy.

But, no matter how many times I end up falling asleep with you in the glider in the middle of the night and wake up hours later with a sore back, or sore neck, or sore legs, you're worth it.

You're worth anything. You're worth everything.

I love you with my life,

my sweet one who is

almost one.

Equinox Thoughts

Spring is officially here, so the calendar says.

I guess the real official day was Saturday. I thought it was Sunday.

I believed it on Sunday. It was lovely on Sunday. The sun shone. No need for coats. My wearing of flip-flops was starting to feel normal and beyond reproach. (I am often chided for I wear them the year-round, whenever I can get away with it without getting frost-bite.)

We got to make our usual trip to Grandma & Grandpa's for Sunday dinner. The sickness of three-quarters of our family had us confined to our household the previous two weeks. (Somehow the plague of our household passed me by, praise be to the heavens.)

Yes, Sunday was lovely. Sunday deserved the title of a spring day.

As for today...meh. Wind and more wind, making that noise that makes me restless as it blows through the eaves of my house. Gray skies again. A little rain, but not the strong, sweet, refreshing kind I adore.

(Come ON, March. Go out like a lamb already. On to the showers and flowers, please.)

But even though there are still days like today where (despite what the calendar says) Winter is hanging on desperately by its fingertips, I can feel that dreary season really is departing. I can feel its final, absolute exit coming soon.

It's like the anticipation of finally getting a deep, prolonged breath of air after being plunged underwater again and again and again.

The spring-cleaning bug is starting to flutter around in my brain. Incessantly. It feels much like the nesting urge that honest-to-goodness attacks me in my late pregnancies. It nags at me constantly, it won't let me rest. I must get things done, I must clean, I must organize, I must awaken and refresh this house after being holed up in it these long months.

Even when I don't have time to do those things (which is, ahem, most of the time) I look around at my home and dream the impossible dream...the dream of all papers thrown out or filed away, cupboards and closets cleaned out and re-organized, clothing and toys and neglected things sorted through and donated or sold or put in storage, surfaces cleared off and dusted and washed and polished.

Ah, the house in my head is a lovely place. A place where every thing sparkles and shines and the only thing left to do is throw open my windows and let the spring breezes carry away the final traces of winter mustiness.

And then I come back to earth and see before me the dishes and laundry and the normal stuff that still isn't (and never truly will be) done.

(Still, its a lovely and inspiring dream.)

I keep thinking, "I can't wait for Jacob's first summer, it will be so fun!"

And then I stop myself and realize his first summer was a year ago.

Really? Yes really.

But he was just 2 and 3 and 4 months old then. Even as a 2nd time mom, I wasn't too keen on venturing out with him in the sun all too often. Especially alone and with my toddler in tow. And I suppose I was just busy. After Jacob arrived in late April and I became responsible for not one but two little human beings, I believe time began to exponentially increase in speed. Here I am nearly one whole revolution of the Earth later, and I honestly feel baffled by how that is possible. Its like I was beamed forward in time somehow and have sustained some kind of partial amnesia...the memories of last spring and summer with my baby have begun evaporating already. (I am getting old. Or I am just not getting enough sleep.)

This spring and summer will be different.

Jacob will be the robust age of 1. (I still can't get over it.)

There will be oodles of trips to the park and the swimming pool and anywhere else fun, picnics and road trips and family reunions and vacations.

And visits to the farmer's market too. I've never been to one of those (I can hear some of my friends saying "REALLY?" Yep, really.). I want to bring fresh, delicious, home-grown things into my house, and I myself am not a gardener or any approximation of a green-thumb bearing human being.

I've been dreaming about experimenting and concocting some fantastic smoothies for the hot days. Mixing up fresh, sweet, cold homemade treats that give my boys colorful mustaches sounds delightful for summer. (I've never made my own smoothies before. I'm excited to try a particular one that involves not only fruit but also spinach...ya know, to sneak in some veggies for the kiddos. Other combination ideas, anyone?)

To state it simply, I am beyond excited about the warmer, lovelier days ahead.

I don't think I've ever craved the spring and summer months as desperately as I do this year.

Jacob's daddy carried him outside on our lovely Sunday afternoon to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air, and to look at the tree that stands outside our home's office window.

A red-headed finch has been visiting that tree. We think he might make a home there. This week we are going to get a bird-feeder for him.

Jacob's daddy put him down on the grass of our front lawn.

I think it was the first time my little one has ever experienced grass.

I was a little sad. It was not soft, tickling green grass. It was stiff, yellow and brown, not yet revived from its months in hibernation.

Jacob didn't want to put his hands on it. He didn't crawl around or explore. He sat in one spot, looking slightly perturbed while tentatively touching the course, strange carpet of our lawn, only to pull his fingers away each time.

That is one of the things I am longing for most...the green, when will the green come? When will the snow on the mountains finally disappear, when will the trees get their leaves and blooms and when will I start hearing the hum of lawnmowers? This is unusual for me to say, but I can't wait for grass that needs mowing. I want to smell through my open windows the scent of fresh-cut, rich, beautiful, vibrant green grass that grows so quickly we can't keep up with it.

A signature of real spring.

No matter what the calendar says, its not quite here yet.

But...its getting there.

Erin Go Bragh

I love Ireland.

I've never been there, but I've already decided I love it.

Those green, enchanting, rolling hills.

(...that so far I've only seen in movies. Ohmigosh, P.S. I Love You. I can't get over that scene, where they first meet on that country road, when she's in Ireland for the first time and lost...you know which one I mean.)

The music.

(I've probably been listening to Enya longer than any other musician on the planet. Though her music felt too mellow today...I was really wishing I had some Riverdance-type stuff to listen to. I Riverdanced for Tommy anyway.)

Those lovely Irish Blessings.

The history. The culture.

And hey, they have castles.

(We have a lot in the U-S-of-A but we don't have castles.)

I fully plan to visit the Green Isle one day.

(...on my dream tour of Europe that will also include England, Scotland, Spain, France, Austria, Italy, Greece, and maybe just a few others.)

But for now I will wear green on St. Patrick's Day and tell my little boys about leprechauns.

(See how I love you Ireland?)

(I love those neighbors of yours, but I don't celebrate any of their national holidays!)

We didn't have any kind of a big to-do about St. Patty's Day at our house, but I found it was a wonderful excuse to make cupcakes.

With green frosting of course.

(I just bought food coloring a few days ago. It is the first food coloring I have owned in 8 years of marriage. It felt momentous...)

Oh yes, and we dusted them with sprinkles too. Tommy wanted not only green but also pink, blue and orange.

(And leprechauns are all about rainbows, right?)

I am always trying to find excuses to make cupcakes lately.

I love 'em.

The husband prefers cookies.

And cookies will always have my heart,

But oh, Betty Crocker, I am into the cupcake thing these days.

And I hear cupcakes are "In" right now.

(Not that I really know or care much at all about what is "In." Don't you know me?)

While I was busy mixing the frosting into a lovely shade of green, Tommy said emphatically to the cupcakes,

"You're gonna get frosted!"

(Kinda like a warning.)

And then a moment later, he said to me,

(very matter-of-factly)

"I speak cupcake."

(I kid you not.)

Boy, did I laugh.

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(P.S.
I took some mighty cute photos of me wee leprechauns to post but the computer is telling me some rubbish about how it can't download me photos for whatever odd reason....*and I make a growling-type, irritated noise here)

Oh wow oh wow...

My baby is just ten days away from turning 11 months

That is practically One.

I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out.

This first year went by so, SO much faster than my first baby's first year.

I can hardly believe it.

It almost doesn't seem fair.

When you have two kids it is a lot harder to just sit back and soak it all up.

All the moments.

I suppose I should get used to it, because this family will definitely have more kids someday!

(At LEAST 4.)

(At least 4 TOTAL that is, not 4 more.)

(But you never know I guess!)

I'm very sad I haven't written more about my sweet baby Jake in these first months.

Every month I've thought,

"6 months! I need to write!"

"9 months! I need to write!"

And now his birthday is quickly approaching.

Same thing with Thomas.

4 years old in July.

So much about him hasn't been written either.

It would take volumes.

He came in to tell me about his victories with Play-doh just now.

I gave him great big squeezes and told him about all the fun things we're going to do this spring!

The day is still slightly chill and snow is still on the mountains, but the sun is out and

OH, it is glorious.

It makes me feel my love for my children even deeper in my bones.

I just want sun and green and blooms and to go out and walk around in it all.

With my dear, beloved, sweet, beautiful little boys.

(Life is not perfect and parenthood is hard, so hard at times,

but I love my boys,

Oh do I.)

Church, Boo-boos, and Hockey

(It drives me crazy when I'm not timely with writing! I started this over 2 weeks ago but never finished. That's what happens when I get long-winded...)

Tommy gave his very first talk in Primary on Sunday, February 21st.

His teachers sent him home with a little slip a couple weeks beforehand with the date and topic. It felt surreal to me that my first baby was already old enough to give a talk in Primary! I've still been trying to get over the fact that he's old enough to be in Primary. Ever since Tommy graduated from Nursery to Primary at the beginning of the year, I've been a little nostalgic...It was surprisingly hard for me to have to watch him leave Nursery forever! No more toys and playtime, no more snacktime. Its just the first of many ways he's leaving behind being little. He always loved Nursery and I was so worried that Sunbeams would disappoint him when he realized how different it would all be. He did have a hard time saying goodbye to us when we dropped him off the first several Sundays, but I think he's starting to get pretty used to it now.

*Sigh* He's growing up at lightspeed and its starting to freak me out. Although all the milestones are fun to watch, its hard for me to see him leave each one behind forever, and then move so quickly to the next!

Anyway! The talk, the talk. The subject was "Through the atonement of Jesus Christ, all mankind may be saved." Wow. The Atonement. Heavy topic for a Sunbeam. Okay. I just wrote a simple little talk for him, keeping it very basic, and we brought a favorite picture of Jesus that we keep in the house to show the Primary. Tommy did great. He repeated the words I whispered nice and clear. It was adorable. At one point when I was listening to him say the words I kind of choked up a teensy, tiny bit for a split second because it was so, so cute and sweet. I was so proud of him.

*I'm so bummed that I didn't get a picture of him before or after church that day!*

I'll confess I was a little nervous about how his talk would go. He was very excited about it and we practiced and had several discussions about it and everything, but I had been worried he would do one of two things...like 1) Freeze up with nervousness and refuse to say anything I whispered to him, because he can go from being a ham to being shy in a nanosecond. Or, 2) He would get all silly, ignore what I was telling him to say and start putting on a show up at the microphone...because he is a ham! He has been dying to talk at the microphone ever since he started Primary. He's tried to escape his teachers during sharing time and wander to the front trying to get to the podium. The Primary Presidency told me they've even let him sit with them up front a time or two.

He was even a bit naughty before his talk...he got to sit up front while he waited for his turn, but several times he got out of his chair and snuck behind the conducting Primary Presidency member to draw on the chalkboard. I wanted to intervene but I was sitting in the very back row, so calling to him or going up front to sit him back down definitely would have been disruptive. So Ryan and I just exchanged amused/embarrassed glances with one another until the Primary Pres. Member realized she had a little artist behind her and sat him back down. Twice.

Bless their hearts, those Primary Presidencies. They're so patient and tolerant. I've never had a calling in Primary at all...Nursery, but never Primary...so its been years and years since I had been in a Primary sharing time. As I sat there in the few minutes before Tommy's talk, watching these dear women trying to run sharing time through all the commotion made by wiggly, restless, talkative little ones, man did I appreciate them. It appears to me a very overwhelming, exhausting calling! I hope I never, ever get called into a Primary Presidency. And, I just doomed myself to getting called to one someday, right there, just wait and see...

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It turned out to be a weekend of not just one but two milestones for the Tommy-nator.

Because, the night before Tommy gave his first talk in Church,

He got his first set of stitches.

5 of 'em, in his chin. Yep!

There's really not even an interesting story to it! He was just playing in our tile entryway, crawling around down on all fours, and he stumbled on his own arms, fell and *SmAcK*...split open his chin on the tile. We didn't know there was anything wrong with his chin at first because he buried his head in his daddy's shoulder and cried for several minutes, and wouldn't let us look at his face. I was worried he'd knocked a tooth out...he's already come close to doing that once. When he finally pulled away and I saw the blood on Ryan's shirt, of course I did the mommy thing and freaked out a bit. I freaked out a little more when Ryan told me Thomas had a gash on his chin and almost immediately thereafter, "I think he's going to need stitches."

Stitches scare me. I've never had them and so I've always imagined all kinds of scary things about the experience. For the longest time I didn't know that they numb the area before they stitch it. I thought you just sat there and lived through the pain of being sewn up with needle and thread. Was extremely glad when I found out that wasn't true.

We studied the war wound a bit (which surprisingly wasn't bleeding that much) and decided to send a photo to Ryan's Mom on her phone...she's a nurse and we're always calling her with medical questions. As soon as she saw it she told us it would definitely need stitches. It wasn't a very long gash, not even an inch, but it was gaping pretty wide open. We showed Tommy the photo of it on Ryan's phone and he said it looked like a "little mouth." Ha!

Aside from being sad about Tommy's busted chinny-chin, I couldn't believe the bad timing. When Tommy fell, we were *literally* about to walk out the door to go somewhere...to my brother Travis' last college hockey game ever. He plays hockey for BYU, he's graduating in April, and it was the last game of the season. We'd been particularly lousy at going to his games...we had only gone to one other game the whole season. So I was bummed not only that my little baby had to get stitches, but because we were probably going to miss my brother's very last game. But hey, we thought, at least we were already ready to walk out the door to go to the doctor!

And though it was a Saturday night, we were able to get right in to get Tommy stitched up. I love our Pediatrician's office, Utah Valley Pediatrics. The office we go to is actually one of several sister clinics all over Utah County, and each clinic takes turns being open on holidays and weekends. We were able to call in and get an appointment just about an hour and a half later. And our co-pay for an after-hours visit was just $25. I was so glad we didn't have to go to the Instacare or heaven forbid, the ER. I've never had to go to the ER, but I've heard nothing but horrible stories about how awful it is to take your kids there, especially with how long you have to wait.

So after a trip to the McDonald's drivethru for dinner and to cheer Tommy up, we took him to see the Doc. The clinic that was open for afterhours wasn't our regular clinic, but everyone there was fantastic. When we showed up they just put a numbing gel on Tommy's chin and let it sit for about 20 minutes while we watched Curious George on their TV. Tommy was totally fine and happy, and even Jacob was a trooper and stayed conveniently asleep in his stroller the whole time we were at the doctor's.

The numbing gel they used was actually a preparation for the numbing shot...so nice because after the 20 minutes Tommy's chin was already so numb that when he got the shot he didn't feel it at all. Ryan had warned me that the worse part of stitches is getting the numbing shot, and I was not looking forward to Tommy's screaming when he realized he had to get a shot. Even though his chin was already numb and he didn't feel it when they gave him the shot, we had a lovely, kind young nurse who kept Tommy's attention on her and he never even saw the needle or knew he got a shot at all.

And he was such a big kid while he got stitched up. The nurse and doctor asked him all sorts of questions about himself and he laid so still while they gave him "whiskers" (their cute nickname for stitches). Tommy did awesome. I was truly so relieved when what I always thought would be a scary, painful, traumatic experience wasn't really that bad at all.

BUT, that doesn't mean I want to encounter stitch-inducing calamities with my children again...I'm all worried now whenever either of the boys play in the tile entryway. I shoo them away onto the much softer hardwood of the kitchen.

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Oh yeah, and we did manage to make it to my brother's hockey game....for the last 6 minutes of the last period anyway. Oh well. At least I got to see him play one last time! And the Cougars WON! Against Boise State, 3-2. BOO-yah!


Band-aid chin boy was in high spirits, even though he had just barely come from getting his stitches. (Jake is MIA in my pics because he continued to be an awesome little trooper, sleeping in his carseat pretty much the whole evening!)

Love my bro. (Don't he look dapper? He always dresses up after the games.)

These guys love my bro. (No one's hotter than Kotter, yeah! and that's D-"Fence" if you're wondering =)

Tommy loves his uncle.

Tommy loves the Zamboni.

Afterwards we all celebrated with my bro over a late-night breakfast at IHOP, like so many times before.

Gonna miss that. =)

Again, to March

I think I just might be doomed to loathe you for all time.
(I am trying oh so hard not to use that word, hate...)

I had hope for you this year, you arrived with such sunshine.

But then I remembered,
you are you.
you quickly did what you always do
you fickle, tempestuous month

You bombarded us with cold new snow
and blank grey skies
then teased us, again, with warmth and sun
for a day or an hour or a second or two
only to withdraw it
again
and these last few days you've tested my patience
with your delivery of cold, hard winds
that shake the very panes of my windows.

But NOW,
you've completely abolished any desire I had for a truce with you
by deeming it necessary to bestow
one last heartless dose
of particular misery
upon our household
with SICKNESS.

All three of my dear boys, one by one, have become feeble and infirm thanks to you.

My husband has an official case of pneumonia and the poor man wheezes all day and night.

My two wee ones are not nearly so bad, but they have hot little foreheads and their lungs bark in protest to what we call "the germies." I am taking them to see their Doc tomorrow.

Tonight I hear each poor boy coughing in turn,
tossing in their beds
struggling for rest
And I venture continuously to the room of my dearest little one
to cradle and rock and soothe him back to sleep.

You couldn't even spare him, you rotten pack of days, you.

It is probably a MIRACLE that I am not sick myself
(yet)
But I think deep down its because I refuse to give in
to your last efforts at torture.

I have 3 boys to take care of.

I don't have time for your tantrums.

Get thee hence,
thank you very much.

Dear March,

Usually I disdain you.
Usually
when you arrive each year
I sigh impatiently
in grim anticipation
of your lingering winter
and long procession of
blah
days.
But,
you behaved yourself rather well today.
There just might be some hope for you.
Keep it up with the sunshine, if you please.
Thank you very much.

Picture of the Day

love him.

P.S.
I know I said this was picture of the ~day~
but I can't leave out my first boy
So here is a picture of the day
from last week.
Tommy
at 3 1/2
is already working
on perfecting the art
of the self portrait.


love it,
love him.

Hooting in my Kitchen

I love this music from my head to my tippy-toes.

I say its like musical candy...

as sweet and scrumptious to my kids

as it is to me.

I like to put on these tunes and dance with my little guys

before lunchtime

or in the restless evenings.

I bounce and spin with baby Jacob in my arms

while Tommy runs circles around the island.

A favorite is

"Hello Seattle"

- The Remix -

It starts out gently, quietly,

very pretty

then slowly builds into a fantastic

infectious

irresistable dancing beat.

Tommy says

it "runs out of air"

at the end.

Many songs are catchy and quick,

others are lovely and heartfelt,

But this whole album is perfect

for this stay at home mom

who often needs a way

to shake off the stress.

Aside from my love for the music

I am also particularly impressed with

the artist of this album

for his writing.

He is wonderfully inventive

with delightful, witty, whimsical lyrics

about beaches, hot air balloons,

dentists,

even toupees.

Buy it, I say.

Do it now.

Go to iTunes or Amazon or the nearest place you can buy media

Snap it up

and you will discover so many more treasures

than the two they are playing on the radio.

(Get the Deluxe version.)

If you don't like it

I would have to say

To each her own

(or his own)

But I would also have to say

Perhaps

The child at heart in you

just needs a little nudge.

The Computer and I

Around 7 pm

still awaiting

the hubby's return from the day

my toddler is watching cartoons

and I slip into the office

to squeeze in a few minutes of email-checking

and blog-stalking

while wrestling the baby on my lap

with one arm.

The baby wriggles and grabs

at everything in sight

so I relent

and place him on the ground.

Then I have T minus thirty seconds

before he tries to escape

underneath the desk

to check out the garbage can

and power cords

or

he discovers the stack of Daddy's rolled-up houseplans

stuffed in a corner

and threatens to rip them up

or

he escapes into the living room

where his big brother will no doubt

tackle him

(affectionately)

until he cries

and I go to rescue him.

And when I go to take the baby away

his big brother begs,

"I wanna hode 'im!"

And I let big brother give his little buddy

one more hug

until I must remove him

so he doesn't suffocate.

Then I escape into the office

to steal a couple more minutes

with the baby in my arms

and it all begins again.


...I really need to get a laptop.