I'm dreaming of NOT having Sickmas

Today, Cary had to stay home from school because of a 101-degree fever that started yesterday afternoon and lingered into this morning.

This was how he looked all morning. Awwww.

This also meant Dean had to brave the big, wide world of pre-school by himself for the first time.

Both boys did great! Cary cried a bunch at first when he realized that he wasn't going to get to go to school with Dean, but the promise of TV-watching soon cheered him.

And Dean, ever the good little brother, brought him popcorn home from school to make him feel even better. "I bringed Cary popcorn because Cary had to stay here because Cary is SICK!" he said when I called home to check on them both.

I'm not sure what exactly is going on with Cary -- he says his "neck" hurts (he means his throat) -- but I hope by the grace of all things good that it doesn't go coursing through the entire Davis family. I am so looking forward to some much-needed time off after this week, and I'd hate to be sick on my staycation. Also, who wants Christmas to be Sickmas? Bah humbug!

Especially after seeing THIS preview of how adorable Christmas is gonna be with Clair around this year!

OMG. Seriously, y'all.

 Awwwww!

My friend Monica took these and other photos when she came to visit this weekend -- after filling her belly with cheese grits. And I must say, it sure doesn't suck having friends who you love to gab with and drink brandy-spiked-eggnog with -- and who just happen to know their way around a camera and a flash!

 

When you say, "kiss," she leans in and eats your lips!

Dean accidentally broke a bulb and was so horrified about all the slivers of red and gold glass on the floor, he refused to put on other ornaments without adult supervision. It was really cute how serious he was about getting those bulbs on the tree intact!

Seriously, ya'll! Look at that face!

No sir. It doesn't suck at all!

Monica, I LOVE YOU, girl!!!

Ho-ho-ho!!!!!

Thinking hard about Christmas, faith and Santa

This is a hard post to write, because it is me looking hard at myself, seeing where I have fallen short and owning up to it. It is about religion -- what I believe about it -- so if you are not a fan, feel free to skip this post.

Yesterday the kids were looking at a photo of themselves from last year. Michelle had it taken while we were at work, as a surprise gift to us. It's of them with Santa Claus, looking miserable as can be (but still cute). They didn't get the whole Santa thing at 1-and-a -half, and they only sorta get it now.

So, sitting in front of our Christmas tree, I decided to explain.

I showed them YouTube videos of Santa in his sleigh, dropping brightly-wrapped gifts off for good little boys and girls. I taught them the "Santa Claus is coming to town" song. I laughed when Dean told a whining, crying Cary: "Stop it that noise, Cary! Santa Claus won't bring you any presents!"

I thought it was all so cute, I told that story to Lester after the kids went to bed.

And my wise husband said, "Hmmm. I wonder if we should have talked to them about the real meaning of Christmas first before introducing the Santa/presents concept." He said it in a very non-judgmental way, like he was really just thinking of it for the first time.

I stopped in my tracks, realizing that he was right. I -- we -- screwed up big time. He thought of it for the first time last night, but *I* hadn't thought of it at all. Ugh. Ugh. And oy!

I know that we can still go back and talk to them about Jesus, and help them understand on a 2-year-old's level how the two things (sorta) go together. So it's not like all is lost. I know that.

But I'm disappointed in myself.

As long as Lester and I have been dating seriously, we've consistently said that we wanted to make sure our kids had a good sense of God in our lives and theirs.  But ever since Lester and I stopped going to our old church, we have been woefully delinquent in that department. We haven't taught the boys about praying (except for at night and sporadically before meals); we haven't read the Bible (save a few kids' Bible stories). We haven't talked to them about God in any clear and consistent way. Worse, we haven't shown them by example that we intend to live our lives with God at the center.

And now that Christmas is here -- a perfect time to talk about religious traditions and what they mean and why -- I went straight for the secular.

I'm not even one who thinks that you *have* to go to church to be a person who has a heart for God.
But for us, it seems that without the accountability of a church home and family, we slowly have let our faith lapse. That worries me on so many levels.

Without going into private details, I'll just say that coming from a family where I think Mom and Dad did so many things right, except that, I have a heightened sense of anxiety about what can happen to a family where there's no sense that you have a purpose on this Earth other than to serve yourself.

So I have to do better. We have to do better. Whether we find a church home or not, there's no reason not to at least talk to our kids seriously about what we say we believe and value.

This is incredibly important to our family. And we just can't make any more excuses.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

The boys went out with Lester this weekend and picked out a fat and wonderful-smelling Christmas tree. Gracious, it smells good in our house!

And then we spent the weekend decorating it, letting the boys hang bulbs and talking to them about some of the more personal ornaments and what they meant to us, like the one we made at a pottery shop in Fredericksburg, Va. on a little mini pre-anniversary trip we took in 2007. (I was pregnant with the boys and didn't know it!)

He was so deliberate about every bulb.

Mommy, I want this one to go up high! Way up high!

So far this holiday season has been really great because the boys have been really in to the whole thing -- from picking out the tree, to decorating the house to singing "Jingle Bells" and "We Miss you a Merry Christmas." (That's how they say it.) And we aren't spending every waking moment trying to get them to NOT TOUCH THE TREE! Even Clair hasn't been a problem. She crawls around and touches everything, but not the tree, for some reason. She likes to stare at the lights, though, and kick her little feet at how beautiful it is.
 

Best time of the day: When the kids go to bed! We like to just sit, and have a holiday-cocktail and just look at the tree.

Sunday, my friend Monica came over and had breakfast with us. She's from the South, so I used that as an excuse to serve some good, old-fashioned cheese grits, made with plenty of butter! Lester made pancakes, too (more butter, YUM!). So we had grits and eggs, sausage and pancakes and have never been so happy. :-)

Monica took a few photos of us while she was there, and I can't wait to see them. She's an amazing photographer -- really, simply amazing -- which is why I was so surprised when she told me that her favorite camera right now is her iPhone.

Really? She showed me some photos on her phone that she took with her iPhone and they were absolutely breathtaking! "How can I be down?" I asked her. How do you do that?

So she introduced me to some photo enhancing apps she uses, but most were still too advanced for my Mommy brain. I picked one to play with called Camera +, and I am now obsessed with it!

I apologize in advance for all the photos I'll be enhancing and posting. It's just so cool!

Here are a few existing photos I had in my phone that I enhanced using Camera +:

You're my...Bright-Eyed Girl. Sha-na-na-na-na-na!

Look at the color!

This seriously looks like it could be from back in the day. My boys look so dapper. Their look is what my dear old Grandmother would call "smart!" As in, "Don't those boys look smart?!"

I think this should be an ad in a magazine for something. I don't know what. But for something.

Focusing in on Cary and his favorite activity (after whining and arguing), and making everything else go softly out of focus. Cool!

Again, more color -- and light! And Deanie smiling! What's not to love?

I don't know if there's a filter I could use that would make me NOT love this photo of my two super cool dudes.

 Pretty cool, huh? Anyway, this is my new toy, so indulge me, please. I'm pretty sure this too shall pass. (Until the next thing comes along!)

Oh! Last thing to point out:

This morning, Dean seemed not himself. He was subdued and slow and said he wanted to go back and take a nap. He said, "My tummy hurts." At one point, for no apparent reason, he burst into tears.

I got down on my knees and tried to get him to tell me what was wrong. But he just sobbed.

Finally, I said, "Baby, please tell Mommy what's wrong, so I can help you. What do you need?"

And he said, through tears, "I-I-I-I.... I need a hug."

OMG -- I had to hold back the tears! Seriously, I can't tell you how much that tugged at my heart. My sweet boy!

I hugged him long and hard, and rocked him like a baby.

And it was the saddest and happiest moment I can ever recall.



 

Laughter is good for the soul, right?

Embarrass Mommy While Daddy's At A Work Event:  A play in one act 

The scene: Electrician's in the kitchen. Kids are at the dinner table. I note an unpleasant odor. I know it well.

Me: OK boys, who has a poop?
One innocent face; one sheepish look.
Cary: I think Mommy has a poop! (Giggles)
Me: No, Mommy does not.
Dean: (Giggling) I think Daddy has a poop!
Me: Daddy's not even here.
Cary: The bapairman has a poop!!
(More giggling.)
Me: (In hushed tones.) OK, that's enough. That's not kind. The electrician does not have a poop.
Cary: (Loudly) Yes he does! The bapairman is STINKY!!
(Hysterical laughter. Even Clair is laughing. She has no idea why.)
Dean: THE BEPAIRMAN IS STINKY!!
Cracking up laughing to the point of choking...

And...scene.

**********

They can be maddening at times, but I do love hearing the sound of my kids laughing. 

 

We love the French! (especially their fries ... and their toast)

I have a lovely and lucky friend Lynn who married a Frenchman in her 40s, ran off to France, popped out a beautiful baby girl, then a beautiful baby boy, went back to school to get her Master's while raising these two babies and is just generally living la vida loca (shutUP! I KNOW that ain't French!), sipping French wine and strolling through villas in Lille, eating Nutella and croissants and having a blast. Also, she's a size zero.

I hate her.

OK, actually I LOVE her! We worked together at The Sun, and even headed up the newsroom's wing of the Newspaper Guild (our version of a union) together, rabble-rousing for a good cause. She left to come to the company where I work now and when the owners were looking for a good writer to hire, she suggested me. So that's how I got to be where I am today.

She's awesome and super-fun and cheerful and giving, a real straight-shooter and always, always ready with a laugh (California girl that she is). And I miss her.

So when she rolled through town for a hot second this week, with her baby boy Gaston, who is 7 and a half months, even though it was a crazy week I knew I had to make time for her to come visit!

Tall AND tiny! I hate her!

This is how she always looks. So happy! I love her!

Gaston is Clair's first French suitor. Too bad he was all debonair like, "Bonjour, mademoiselle!" And Clair was all Baltimore like, "French fries?? Where?!" LOL!

And I'm so glad I did.

We had Gil's Pizza (a Baltimore landmark) and Cupcake wine. Clair was into everything and the boys showed off mightily (grrrr!). We talked about marriage and kids and France and Baltimore and families and old friends (and Lester even managed to work in French politics, of course). We had a blast until Dean stole her Pellegrino and chugged it, and started pretending to have a meltdown and Cary stole Clair's toy from Gaston ("NOOO! It's Clairzeee's!") and started having a real meltdown.

And just like that, our very short visit was over. She and her family are off to California for the holidays and then back to Lille, and it'll be awhile before she makes this trip again.

Sniff.

Au revoir, Lynnie! We'll always have Baltimore.

Kate Middleton is pregnant! (and other random baby bits)

The first thing I did when my co-worker and friend Stacey yelled out in the office, "New York Times reports: The Duchess of Cambridge is knocked up!" was not go to the NYT to read up about it.
No, the first thing I did was go STRAIGHT to Suri's Burn Book to see her reaction.

It was priceless! Hands down the best part of this announcement.

In other baby news, on Day 2 of the Big Boy Beds, it took Cary and Dean 45 minutes to settle down last night while I was giving Clair her end-of-the-night bottle. So after I finally got her down, I went in to tell them to "Go to sleep!" Cary was in Dean's bed. And four of the slats in the blinds near Dean's bed had been pulled out. Great.

The thing that baffles me is that those blinds were always there. Nothing has changed about his proximity to them or his ability to reach them. So who knows why now he decided to destroy them. Toddlers are inexplicable.

The good news is it only took that one time to get them settled and they were conked out after that.

So while Lester was at the Redskins/Giants game having a blast, I got all the kids asleep by 8:30, and the dinner dishes and bathroom cleaned up and their next-day snacks made by 9.  Which meant I got to watch two full episodes of Teen Mom 2, in the bed all to myself, no kids, no remote-control-hogging husband and no noise!! Hooray!

In other baby news, Cary and Dean are smart as whips. We played with Play-Doh together this weekend and I was amazed at their creativity. They're also doing so great recognizing all their letters. Cary can recognize them all, and Dean is not too far behind him. And they're becoming slightly more purposeful about their drawing/coloring adventures, which makes for some interesting "Mommy, look what I made!" mysteries. (Most of the time, I'm like, "Uhhh....ummmm....errrr....a squiggly line?? A big mess? Some sort of Rorschach test that will explain your future life choices?")

But sometimes, they surprise me:

Um, Kate Middleton -- let me see your Royal Baby do that at 2-and-a-half! HOLLA!

Big boy beds! And the aquarium!

The big boy beds are here!

(I know saying this probably means the kiss of death, but...) So far so good!

Yay! I'm a big boy!

I'm free! I'm free!

Lester converted them on Sunday, so we've only had one nap and one overnight to practice, but aside from a little bit of extra time to actually get them in the beds, we have not had any issues. They stayed in their beds for the entire nap and overnight too. Both times one of us had to go in the room once to say, "Hey, knock it off!" for some reason or another. But as is usually the case with them, right after that, they were conked out.

So let's see how this goes from here on out.

Also, we took all the kids to the Baltimore Aquarium for the first time. We met up with our friends David and Stephanie, and their beautiful boys Dylan, 2, and Landon, 2 months.

Here we are at the dolphin show, which was a huge hit!! Landon is wearing the outfit we bought him, which says, "World's cutest little brother!" Awwwww.

This is the classic Dean face.

The boys loved all the fish and the dolphins, but truthfully, I think they liked riding on all the escalators much more. So we'll wait awhile before paying the $30-per-adult (!!!!) ticket price until we think they are really ready.

Afterwards, we went out for lunch at the Inner Harbor and ate seafood -- appropriate, right? :-) 

There's a huge guitar on top of the restaurant. When Cary saw it, this was his reaction. He thought it was the silliest thing he'd ever seen.

  All in all, a  very good weekend!

The end is near!

No, I'm not talking about the Mayan calendar.

I'm talking about the end of life as we know it. This week, Dean Davis learned to climb out of his crib.

Pause with me here while I silently mourn the era of putting children to bed and not worrying about them getting out of the bed again until we were good and ready to come get them.

....

....

....

OK. I'm working on pulling it together. (sniff. sniff. sigh.)

The thing is, we tried for a few days to just tell him to "Stop it!" firmly, and also to "indicate" (read: lie) that it was actually impossible to climb out of the crib. Unfortunately, my child never listens to a thing we say. And eventually, he made it all the way out, and fell -- with a heart-stopping thud -- on to the floor. He landed on his arm in such a way that I could readily see the soft cast he's going to have at some point, at least once, but maybe more than that, in his young life. Thankfully, we were spared a trip to the emergency room -- and he only cried for about 5 hearty minutes.

Lester tried to linger a little longer in denial, by saying, "Well, at least he won't try that again!"

But the next night, our little maverick cried real tears because we'd pushed his crib too far away from the dresser for him to get the leverage he needed to hoist himself over the crib rail. Real tears! This daredevil was determined to try it again! The night after nearly falling to his death!

So as we all know, this means the cribs have to go. Once a climber, always a climber.

So, this weekend, Lester's going to break the cribs down into toddler beds. And life as we know it will end.

Thanks, Mayans.

(Throwback pic of the boys in the little room -- which is now Clair's -- when Cary first learned to stand up in the crib and Dean was all like, "Hey! How the heck does he do that?")

The good ole days.

I played the laundry lottery and lost

ATTENTION: The Powerball is up to $500 million. That's half a billion dollars, people.

I'm not a gambling woman, but when the lottery gets that high, I can't help but play. I know it's ridiculous. I know all the stats about having a better chance of being struck by lightning or spontaneously combusting or some such...but I don't care. It's half a billion dollars. I'll play those odds.

But I have to admit that I am not really confident in my luck these days.

For example, I have been trying to do a better job of making sure we get all the socks in the house paired when doing the laundry. And so when I got around to folding this pile below the other night, I crossed all my fingers and toes and said, "Please, please, please. My kingdom for one frikkin' load of laundry with no unmatched socks!"

That's all I wanted, folks. Not a half a billion dollars. Just socks that match.

Instead, this is what I got.

Sigh. I guess I'll just add these to the pile.

When I win the lottery, I'm not running off to the south of France, or buying a mansion.

I'm hiring someone to do the laundry. And it'll be their job to figure out The Mystery of the Socks.

Little Brown Baby

My Granddad, who the little kids call Pop-Pop, is 96 years old. Have I mentioned this before? It's a little amazing, typing it out that way. 96-years-old. That's 4 years away from being 100. Craaaazy!
And a blessing.

Granddad is pretty stationary, as the result of some kind of stroke-like thing that happened many many years ago. But other than being unsteady on his feet, he is the picture of health. He has no chronic diseases, lives independently, eats like a horse (and whatever he wants, whenever he wants) and most importantly, has all his faculties.

In fact, my Granddad simply amazes us with his quick wit and his ability to pull random bits of information and history from his brain at the drop of a hat.

Here's just one example:

Over the Thanksgiving holiday, we went to his house to visit. We sat upstairs with him in his TV room (which is the room my Dad and Uncle Harrison shared as babies/children) and chatted about politics and current events. Cary and Dean were tired and hungry, so they were being especially clingy to Lester, and not interacting much with Pop-Pop.

To get their attention, Granddad turns to Cary, leans in close to his face, and recites a poem:

LITTLE brown baby wif spa'klin' eyes,

          Come to yo' pappy an' set on his knee.

What you been doin', suh -- makin' san' pies?

          Look at dat bib -- you's ez du'ty ez me.

Look at dat mouf -- dat's merlasses, I bet;

          Come hyeah, Maria, an' wipe off his han's.

Bees gwine to ketch you an' eat you up yit,

          Bein' so sticky an sweet -- goodness lan's!

He missed a few words, and I never heard him say "Maria," but for the most part, he nailed it. And then he leans back in his chair and says, "Paul Laurence Dunbar."

Wouldn't you know it is a Paul Laurence Dunbar poem, called "Little Brown Baby." Seriously, where'd he pull that from? I can barely recite my name and address if caught off guard. How does his brain retain and retrieve that kind of thing?

I'll never know -- but I hope to be half as sharp as he is when I'm pushing 100.

And I know my boys won't remember this day or that recitation, but I LOVE it that I can record the moment here, so they will forever know their Pop-Pop was a font of information and culture, and wanted to share it all with them, his great grandsons, little brown babies of mine.

Fun fact: This little brown baby is sitting on the very bed her Granddad slept on as a child. Isn't that cool?

Thanksgiving thankfulness

I am thankful for SO many things. When it gets to this time of year -- when everyone is posting about gratefulness -- I find that I can't actually list them all.

I mean, there's my relationship with God (ever-evolving), my seriously amazing husband and friend, my beautiful boys, my sweet daughter, my supportive and loving parents, my wonderful family, my devoted friends, my awesome babysitter, financial stability, good health, a safe and happy home, a job I enjoy, etc. etc. etc. And those are just the big things. I could go on and on and on and on about the small things (heated seats, helllllooooo!) 

So I usually don't participate in the gratefulness postings. It sounds silly, but I just get overwhelmed by being grateful.

But after spending three days at my Mom and Dad's house this Thanksgiving holiday, I decided to post about three things for which I am grateful (Mom's sweet potato pie is always on the list, so just imagine that item as 1 a, b and c.)

1. I am grateful that my boys so LOVE being at their "Nana's house." All of my sisters' kids have lived with my parents for some period of time. So I always worried that our every-so-often visits to Mom and Dad's would never compare to actually living there, and that my kids would not be as comfortable running around their house as their cousins. Suffice it to say, I was so wrong. These boys think Nana's house is like Christmas, Halloween and birthday parties all rolled up in one. They have so much fun. And my Mom always finds ways to up the ante each visit. This weekend, she pulled out old costumes she had lying around and put them on Cary and Dean. The little dragon and the little doggie were the happiest two critters around! This makes my heart so glad! Just because we're the only ones who live more than 20 minutes away from my parents doesn't mean we miss out on all the fun. Hooray!

Having a very important discussion, clearly.

2. I am grateful that my sister Tahira enjoys doing little girls' hair (because I am still so bad at it). And that Clair sits still for the hair-and-beauty session. I am grateful that my sister, who is one of my best friends, loves my children so much. I am getting teary just thinking about it. (See? Getting overwhelmed!!! Ugh!)

Clair is going to have such a special relationship with her Auntie. It reminds me already of my relationship with my Aunt Fern, who I used to stare at, when I was a little girl, thinking, "She is the most beautiful, most stylish, most fun, most wonderful Auntie ever!"

 3. And I am grateful for my nieces and nephews, who are a loud and wild bunch, with attitudes and sassy personalities and who never, ever, ever sit still. But that's not why I'm grateful for them. I am grateful for them because -- despite having challenging lives and growing up way too fast -- they are still so super sweet. They love C, D and C to pieces. They give us all hugs and kisses and ask a zillion questions and are always so, so glad to see us. And this weekend, when the Davises put all our kids down for a nap (and decided to steal a few winks with them), 6-year-old Alahna put this note on our bedroom door.

Isn't that the sweetest? Good grief, those kids are sweet. (Getting overwhelmed again. Oy!)

We "lov" you, too Alahna. And all the rest of you crazy kids, too. And the whole darn family of crazies. And we're so, so grateful that you're in our lives.

Happy post-Thanksgiving all!

Clair's 9-month appointment

Clair had her 9-month appointment today.

Before the shot: I LOVE the doctor! After the shot: I HATE the doctor!!

She is 29 inches tall and weighs 17 lbs., 12 oz., which is only 3 oz. more than she was at her 6-month-appointment.

I figured this would be the case, as she really has tapered off with her bottles. It happened almost right after her 6-month-appointment, actually. She just had little-to-no interest in her bottle. She was happy to eat soft food, but not much of it, honestly. But she even refused to drink much milk before bedtime or when she woke up after fasting all night. She was happy and healthy so I didn't bother the doctor, and he said today my instincts were just right. You can't make kids eat, and as long as she was healthy and happy, then there was no reason to worry.

In his opinion, Clair started out a much bigger baby than her genetics really mean for her to be as a child/person. In other words, her disinterest in eating was her body's way of evening itself out. So even though she started out 7 lbs., 14 oz. at birth (pretty big for a 38-weeker) she's likely to be a smallish person, he said. More Cary than Dean, but probably somewhere in between.

She also has a pretty gross nasal infection, which explains her constant need for suctioning -- and her fitful sleeping -- so he prescribed antibiotics. He also said I might need to check with my doctor about this horribleness that is lingering in me. Yeah, sometime between now and when the kids go to college, I'll have time for that. Aaaa-choo!

In all other things, Clairzee is perfect -- even ahead of the game. She's crawling, cruising, babbling, and waving. She's a master at pincer grip and is alert, social and cute as can be.

And, clutch the pearls, she doesn't have to come back until she's a YEAR OLD!

This is seriously moving so fast, people. I know I say that all the time, but I truly can't get over how fast time is moving with her. A YEAR?? With the holidays coming, we all know how fast that time goes; before we know it it'll be the New Year, and then bing, bang, boom -- February!

Excuse me while I go look at baby pictures of Clair and scream and cry and pull my hair out. Thanks.

Bye-bye curls

I thought I could live with Cary's patchy hair, but Lester and I both decided it'd be better to get his hair cut and let it all grow back in evenly.

So I took the boys to the barber on Saturday. We saw the same barber who cut Cary's hair the first time. She laughed at his bald spot, and got straight to work. Cary, for his part, was not thrilled, but didn't cry.

Look at my little curl-less boy. :-(

When it was all over, Dean clapped wildly and said "Good job, Cary!"

I have the best boys!

To reward Cary for having to lose all his hair to his brother's barbering experiment, and to reward Dean for being a supportive little brother, I took my sweeties out for pizza afterward.

They sat at the table like big boys, and didn't get down and run around or throw things or act like banshees. I've been teaching them to sit either "on your bottoms or on your knees" at restaurants, and they were really good about remembering that. They said "thank you!" to the servers, and waved "Hi!" to the children in the booth behind us. We stuffed ourselves full of cheesy pizza and chicken strips and fries. The boys even tried honey mustard for the first time (Cary - NO!; Dean - Yes, sir!!) and life was good.

Notice Dean's trance-like state? There was a TV on behind me with some kind of NASCAR-like race going on.

So all in all, I'd say, the aftermath of losing Cary's curls was not so bad after all. I got to bond with my big boys and Cary actually looks kinda cute.

So, bye-bye curls. We'll miss you, but we'll be waiting for you to come back in a few months. (And this time, we'll keep the clippers away from Deanie!)

A rant, a rave and a real housewife (sorta)

First, a rant.

I have been very quiet about my kids' pre-school, because I have not had a lot good to say about it. The feelings I had in the beginning about the teachers have not gone away. In fact, they have only been confirmed. I won't go into detail, but let's just say, I'm going to have to have a long discussion with the school about their 3s program -- and especially the teachers -- before we even think about enrolling them next year.
I have not shared most of my displeasure, but I had to share this:

So RUDE!!

 Do you see what I see there?

The teachers thought it was appropriate to send home a note to the entire class, listing the parents who still needed to send in "pullups" -- their catch-all term for diapers -- and wipes. It's not like it's a long list; there are three people listed there. Why couldn't they have slipped something discreetly and kindly in the kids' take-home envelopes? Or said something privately to the parents when they came in? I don't know how those three parents feel about being publicly shamed in this way, but I am outraged for them! It's just plain rude, in my opinion, and I am not loving the fact that my children are being taught by people who think that that is any way to behave. Also, I truly cannot get over this woman's obsession with "pull-ups." If she put half as much energy into teaching, playing with and nurturing the kids in her class, those kids would all be future Rhodes Scholars and philanthropists and tree-huggers.

OK, rant over. It's Friday. I'm not going to let her ruin my Friday buzz.

Now, a rave!

We took Cary and Dean to the dentist again today and they were AMAZING!

Checking out their goodie bags after being SUPER good boys at the dentist!

I almost didn't recognize these two children. Whereas last time there were tears aplenty, this time they were cooperative, friendly and agreeable. They did everything the hygienist and the dentist asked them to do. They said "aaaahhhh!" with aplomb! They laughed at the dentist's goofy jokes. They smiled when people spoke to them. Everyone was gushing about how well-behaved they are, and how adorable, and what a great job we are doing taking care of their little teeth! I feel like a million bucks! 

Of course, Cary decided he didn't want the bag of rewards the hygienist gave him, and threw it on the floor of the car, only to decide he did want it after I was already driving (sorry, buddy!), causing a grating whinefest for the entire ride home. But a girl can't have everything, now can she?

And -- just to make sure Clairzee gets in on the Friday blog-post-action, here she is doing her best "RBONJ" imitation. (That's "Real Babies of New Joizy" for the uninitiated.)

Totally needs her own reality show!

Isn't she the most?!

Happy weekend, all!

Hello, 1980s? When'd you get back in town?

I never thought I would think anything from the 1980s coming back was cute.

I mean, shoulder pads? Neon? Acid-washed jeans? Ugh.

But Clair in hot pink legwarmers has got to be the cutest thing this side of Ryan Gosling!

Isn't she just TOTALLY RAD?
:-)

The good, the bad and the ugly

The good:

Clair is waving! She does it all the time, and appropriately. When you say hello or good-bye, she starts waving. Of course I tried to capture it here, and the twin tornados had to get all up in the mix. So you can barely see the wave. I'll work on getting a better video. Meantime, here she is, my happy little waver.

And now for the the bad and the ugly -- which are all in one:

Lester went to give Dean a haircut. He plugged in his electric clippers and turned to go get something he needed out of the dining room. In an instant, Dean -- who is ALWAYS looking for something to get into (seriously, 99.8-percent of the time he is into something) -- grabs the clippers, figures out how to turn them on, and gives Cary this awesome (NOT!) haircut.

Sigh.

It looks a little bit less noticeable when his hair is not wet, but I think I'm fooling myself by thinking I don't actually have to cut his hair all the way down to that newly-shorn length. But I love his little curls! And I don't want him to look like such a big boy with a big boy haircut! Waaaaaah!

Oh well. The good news is I posted this unfortunate turn of events on Facebook and got to read and laugh about all the ridiculous hair-cutting stories that have happened with friends' kids over the years. Here's the best one, from an old college friend:

Been there done that so so many times over the last thirteen years. One time the oldest shaved the middle child's hair in the middle while he was sleep and then krazy glued the excess hair to his face. True story.

Now THAT is so much worse than Cary's little reverse Mohawk, I actually do feel better. LOL!

Synapse Checklist check-off

As the boys were turning 2, I started thinking about what kinds of things I wanted them to do and experience before they turned 3. (Since everyone knows that birth-to-3 is like the ONLY time kids ever learn anything ever and after that, if they haven't learned it, they're screwed for a lifetime. :-) )

So I created a Synapse Checklist, which is really just a list of fun things I want to do with them.

The boys hit  the 2-and-a-half mark yesterday, so here's where we are on the checklist:

• Go to the beach. Build sand castles. Watch the tide come in and out.

• Pick some fruit at a real fruit orchard. Bring it home and help Mommy make something out of it.
• Fly a kite.
• Ride public transportation.
• Have a picnic.
• Dig for earthworms after a good rain.
• Go to the State Fair. Ride some kiddie rides. Eat funnel cake.
• Sleep in a sleeping bag.
• Go to the zoo. (We've done this a bunch, but I think they're old enough to really get it now.)
• Play with Play-Doh.
• Finger-paint. (Ditto.) Does it count that they've done this at school? Yes, I think it does!
• See a real rainbow in the sky.
• Go on a hayride. Help Mommy or Daddy carve a pumpkin. On second thought, I think this knife-wielding activity is a "next year" task.
• See a parade, complete with floats and marching bands.
• Ride on some kind of boat.
• Participate in at least one, maybe two organized activities (music class, soccer, swim lessons,etc.) Music class is humming along!

We did go to the beach but the boys refused to help build sand castles. We watched the waves come in and out -- but not the tide -- because I did not think hard enough about how long you have to sit on the danged beach to watch the tide come in AND out. So watching the waves is good enough for me. (Is this cheating?)

We didn't go to the State Fair this year, but we did go to a bunch of festivals. We had apple fritters at the apple pick, which tasted a lot like apple-flavored funnel cake, but no actual funnel cake.

We have time still for riding on public transportation (Lester thinks the trolley at the beach counts, and I'm willing to concede that point if I get too lazy to actually take my sweeties somewhere on the city bus between now and May).

And if push comes to shove, I can pull out a sleeping bag and let them sleep in it any ole time, even if it's on the night of May 10th.

But now that the weather is cold, I don't think we'll get to the kites, earthworms, rainbows or boating situations anytime soon. So that means we will have to be on it in the spring! On. It!

Looking at this update, I'd say so far, so good! Countdown to May 11, 2013 begins....now!

P.S. Just for some perspective about how far these two boys have come, take a look at this picture, taken when they were both just a little over two weeks old! Look how scrawny!

Dean on left; Cary on right

And now look at them -- driving already (LOL!)

Taken at the Unbalanced Mommies meet-up yesterday at Oregon Ridge. Just a small part of our whirlwind weekend (all done while Mom is sick as a dog!) which you'll hear more about in another post. Perhaps.

We ARE somebodies!

Clair's sick and has been up at night with the stuffed-up nose, can't-breathe, uncomfortable thing going on. So I'm exhausted from getting up to comfort her, suction her, help her find a pacifier, re-situate her in the crib, put her blanket on and just love on her.

This weekend we have play dates scheduled with Abby and Maya, the twin girls we met at the vegtival who are also in our music class, and also with the Unbalanced Mommies.

I have been spending a lot of money on kids' clothes and shoes lately and I'm not exactly sure why.  Year of Austerity? HA!

I spent EIGHT HOURS cleaning my house from top to bottom this past weekend and somehow, just six days later, it is a cluttered mess again. 

Lester and I wanted to go to Boston this Thanksgiving to visit my Mom's family - including my Nana who has never met Clair - but the expense is too much for air travel and driving from here to there (hello NJ Turnpike!) with two toddlers and an infant is too much just all around.

Sounds like everything is just blah, blah, blah doesn't it?

But you know what? It ain't.

We are keeping hope alive!

'Cause we ARE somebodies!

(I'm such a cornball!)

Celebrate!

I am soooo happy about my President.

 I can't lie. It makes me incredibly happy not just that the country re-elected the man I believe is the best man for the job, but also -- ALSO -- that a black man earned the trust of the American people two times in a row!

Considering our nation's history (and sometimes its present), this makes me feel all kinds of overwhelming emotions about the possibilities for my boys.

I am so emotional about it, I can't even adequately convey all my thoughts.

But also, I am so happy that my state of Maryland finally has given the right to marry to people who are gay! (It's so awesome to really see in full color that my vote counts!)

The marriage equality vote chokes me up too. I'm a Christian and I love the Lord, but civil rights are civil rights, people. And it's a sad day when folks willfully choose to conflate religion with rights.

But today is NOT a sad day. Today is a happy day! And I am celebrating!! I am celebrating for all my friends who can now get married (shout-out to Jessica and Holly -- can't wait to go to ANOTHER wedding of yours!) And I am celebrating for myself, too. I love it when love wins over hate.

And I love it when Cary busts in on me in the bathroom first thing in the morning to say, "Mommy, Barack Obama wunt!"

Sweetest words ever!

As Kool and the Gang would say, "Celebrate good times come on!!! It's a celebration!!"

Why 2-year-olds should not be allowed to predict elections

Last night, while intensely studying his Lightning McQueen slipper (that boy is an observer, I tell you), Cary points to the tiny American flag you see here and says:

"Mommy, look! Barack Obama!"

I decided to take that as a sign. My child sees the teensiest symbol of this great country and immediately and unequivocally equates it with Barack Obama, the man who is fighting tooth and nail to hang on to the presidency. The man I would like to see win again.

From the mouths of babes, I thought. Dear Lord, let it be so.

I even posted my prediction on Facebook. (Dunh dunh dunhhhhh.)

Fast forward to this morning, election day.

Getting in the car, Cary spots my "I voted" sticker and claims it as his own.

I tell him he can't have it, because it belongs to Mommy. Mommy gets to have it because Mommy voted.

"I voted too," he says, nodding vigorously.

"Really?! That's great," I tell him. "Mommy voted for BARACK OBAMA!" (I say it with gusto, so he and Dean know that this is a good thing.)

And then Cary says, "I voted. I-I-I-I voted for MITT ROMNEY!" (He says it with gusto.)

And smiles at me. And takes my sticker.

Sigh.

Get out and vote, people!! A lot of folks died so we'd have this right. So get out and do it today!