Gah!

First, a funny:

Adrian has become...insistent on privacy while filling his diaper with stinky mess. Last week we were in his bedroom playing and to achieve proper privacy for said act, he pulled out the bottom drawer of his dresser and stuck his head in.

Now, a not so funny:

Last night Aaron was in a car accident. He's o.k. (though sore and bruised), the other people are o.k., the car however was not so lucky. We are grateful that it wasn't worse, but slightly perplexed on how to work our schedules to allow for only one set of wheels. I realize people all over the world have done it for ages but it's new to us.

December, in review.

Since Nessa has the audacity to call me a slacker, i will tell you what we have been doing in lieu of posting to the blog.

Dec 13-17: My mom came for a visit. We made cookies and went shopping and played in the park. I went to make dinner one night and had to go borrow 2 eggs from the neighbors, which was somehow embarrassing.

Dec21-24: The following week, Adrian and I got into the car and drove to the quad cities where we stayed with Aaron's parents for a few nights, before driving to Aaron's grandparents on Saturday for Christmas, part 2. The following day we drove to Aaron's other grandmother's house for christmas part 3. Then we drove back to our house for Christmas part 4.

December 25: Aaron was off work. We cleaned the house.

December 26: Adrian was godawful cranky and we went grocery shopping.

Today: Adrian got up at 5:30 AM, more crankiness.

And I have also been creating another person in my womb. So I'm not slacking, I'm busy living.
For pictures, please visit the Flickr account.

Have a cookie

Adrian and oreos: it's a messy affair.

Today we went to music class and afterward had lunch at Subway, where we shared a meatball sub. After he was done eating, AD requested a cookie. I figured it'd be a good car-ride-home snack, so I caved and paid the 48 cents for a sugar cookie with pink sprinkles. Normally on the ride home, I'll ask him how he's doing in the back seat, and he'll tell me "good" or "pretty good". Today I asked him: how're you doing back there?
and he told me: great!
And I said: great?! What makes you great?
And his reply: cookies.

Can't argue with that logic.

Amnesia, anyone?

Here is a more lighthearted post than the last one. I didn't mean to bum everyone out, and I really appreciate the outpouring of support. You guys make my life a happy place to be. Now, onward!

The last time I was pregnant I vaguely remember swearing that under no circumstances would I ever get pregnant again. As two years ticked by, all of the discomfort and (let's be honest) agony of pregnancy were slowly erased by the trials, tribulations, and joys of parenting. And now that I have made it through the first 11 weeks I am here to report to you things that ought not to have been forgotten:

unbelievably sore breasts As in, don't breathe too close to me because I find the air currents you are creating to be nearly unbearable in their force. And then take that level of sensitivity and pair it with a two year old who really enjoys employing a full body tackle whenever he can slide one in.
the gas And I'm not sure how I forgot this one, but I did. Everything gives you gas. And not just mild intestinal discomfort (no, no that would be too easy), but you fart like a middle aged man after nacho-and-beer night. I have discovered that Adrian thinks farts are at the height of humor, making me a one-woman comedy show. And when you happen to pass one in public, you get horrified looks from passers-by because they don't know that you're pregnant. They just think that you need to lay off the beans and learn some manners....mmmm...I could go for a taco bell bean burrito about now.
the cravings Sandwiches. And more sandwiches. I feel like I could live off of sandwiches. I go though a one pound loaf of sandwich bread in about 6 days. And it's always the same sandwich: miracle whip, meat, lettuce, tomato, cheese, mustard. Also, I've really taken a shining to grits. Made with milk (not water) with a little cheese swirled in. Although if you're really looking to get in good with me, pick me up a veggie roll from your nearest sushi stand.
the nausea And I've talked about it with people, so I know that I had it with Adrian--all day every day for four months-- but it still managed to come a a surprise when I woke up one afternoon and said: ugh. the idea of food makes me want to puke. This time around I only suffer nausea in the evenings, which isn't so bad except that it squishes any desire I have to actually cook dinner.
the irritability I don't think I'm as bad as I was last time but Aaron says that it's just because I have more people to be cranky at. Which I don't think is true, because Iwas pretty damn cranky at Jim last time. It's just--do what I ask you to do THE FIRST TIME. That's all I want. Adrian can't seem to comply because he has the attention span of a gnat. Aaron can't seem to comply because half the time he "can't hear me" (call me Mumbles!) and the other half the time he has the attention span of a gnat. A word of advice: don't criticize a pregnant lady. It doesn't matter if she was in the wrong. It's not going to end pretty.

Irritable? Me? No!
Okay, more often than not, but I try to keep a lid on it. I'm surging with hormones, people. There's only so much I can deal with on a daily basis.

Distracted

I was going to be funny and witty, but I am distracted because my little brother is really sick--like in the hospital really sick and I hate that I'm so far away and pretty much useless. Since I haven't talked to him I'm going to assume that he'd want me to keep the details of his illness off of the internet so I'll leave you with this thought:
Illness sucks. It's arbitrary and unfair and it sucks. And while I am aware that this world wasn't designed with fairness as it's main objective, it just seems wrong that good people can get sick and people who really deserve a kick in the ass can walk around healthy-as-you-please until their timely demise.
So that's what's got my knickers in a twist these days.

5 things about Me.

As per Sarah's request, here are 5 things that the readership general may not know about me.

1. I am a Francophile. I love nearly all things French. I love French food--although it would have to be a frosty day in Hades before you'd catch me eating tete de veau. I have studied the French language off and on since I was 7...and I speak it like an eight year old with a mild stutter. I have been to Paris only once, but rank it among my top 5 favorite places. My favorite book? Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik.

2. I enjoy bad jokes. Not bad as in in poor taste, bad as in: What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhino? Elephino! (pronunciaton guide: Hell if I know!) The worse they are, the more they amuse me.

3. My dream is to travel to India, preferably on one of those Smithsonian journeys. Of course they cost around $6,000 USD, so it'll be a while before I've saved enough to do it. But one day!

4. If I won the lottery, I'd use the winnings to set up an arts center for underpriviledged kids. Art is one of the things that has been a mainstay in my life and a key element to coping with some really awful events. I believe in the theraputic effects of art and I think that every child should have the opportunity to express themselves, regardless of how much their school board budgets towards the art program.

5. I'm pregnant. And due in June. Surprise!

so, this is what 2 is like...

Terrible, indeed.

Example one:
Adrian: Dada, A.D. needs crackers.

Aaron: it's too close to dinner.

Adrian: Dadaaaa, A.D. neeeeds tasty wheat thins!

Aaron: no.

Adrian: (bangs head on floor)

Example two:
Adrian: Mama, go outside.

Me: Not right now.

Adrian: Go! Outside!

Me: It's 6:30 in the morning. How about we eat breakfast and wait for the sun to come up?

Adrian: GO! OUTSIDE!

Me: No.

Adrian: (bangs head on floor)


delightful.

Adrian's anatomy

Toddlers are supremely curious about the world around them and their place in it; Adrian has started to notice that there are in fact two genders*.
He explained it to me thusly:

Dada has penis.
Mama has sunglasses.

Your guess is as good as mine on that one, as I wear my sunglasses on my face like everybody else.

* Well, mostly two genders. We don't happen to hang out with Adrian in places where a third gender is readily presentable as a lifestyle option.

Halloween and the morning after

I made the executive decision not to take Adrian out trick-or-treating, as most of the stuff he would receive he wouldn't be able to eat (choking hazards and all that). Instead he helped me hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters, an activity he declared "exciting!" at one point in the evening. I was dissapointed in the lack of costumed youth, however. I expect it from high schoolers--a group of which told me there were dressed up as high school students, but when a gaggle of elementary school kids shows up at your door wearing the same clothes they wore home from school it's a little disheartening. I love Halloween--when I was little I wore my costumes for months of dress-up, when I was in highschool I used to spend weeks planning and making my own elaborate costumes. Now that I have no where to wear a costume, I throw on some bunny ears and call it a night. I can't wait until Adrian is old enough to get into the spirit of costumes and candy.

This morning, I was on the couch reading and Adrian was enjoying a snack of raisins--or so I thought. I looked up when he declared"uh-oh".
"What? Uh-oh what, A.D.?"
He looks at me with a perplexed face and sticks his finger into his right nostril, "raisin" he tells me.
"Raisin? Are you telling me you have a raisin in your nose?"
Finger still inserted in nostril, "Yes. Raisin nose"
(Gah! Panic! No, no. Wait, remain calm.)
"How about we take that finger out of your nose, then?" I grab a flashlight, convince him to tilt his head back, and sure enough, there in the mucusy confines of his nose a raisin waves back at me. "Blow", I tell him.
He does, nothing happens.
I press the empty nostril closed.
"Blow"
He does, and again, nothing.
"Blow hard"
And voila--a snot covered raisin rocket lands in my lap.

Than he wants me to clean it off so he can eat it.
I don't think so, pal.

one more thing

(for those of you who know us well, i'm sure you're surprised it's taken so long for this to come back around to a discussion of bodily functions)

Yar.
When you're raising a child, you spend an inordinate ammount of time face-to-face with a variety of bodily functions. And our take on it is that if you have to deal with it, you might as well make it funny. Like when Adrian was a wee bairn and refused too poop for 11 days--we took to singing "hey, big pooper!" to the tune of "hey, big spender".
And now that we are in the full throes of toddler language acquisition, we are daily greeted with the mangling of common phrases.

Our new favorite is: drop a goose, instead of drop a deuce.

So there's your potty humor for the day.

Enjoy.

And then it was Wednesday

The party Sunday was a big hit, although D was sick and couldnt come. Adrian exhibited some fairly embarassing behavior telling us: AD no share!
I guess we have to admit that a two year old really will be harder than a one year old.

Other highlights from the past few days:

AD has decided that his calling in life is to be an Apache Helicopter pilot. This comes after he and Aaron spent an hour watching helicopter footage on youtube. (Thanks, big guy) I dont know how this will mesh with his current obsession with play-doh--every day he asks for "clay-doh" and then spends an hour or more smooshing it, rolling it, cutting it, putting it away, taking it back out. If there is an opening at the play doh factory for quality control, I think AD would be a shoe-in.

It"s pretty amazing to watch his little toddler brain in action as he dismantles and reassembles his surroundings. You can tell that he has a method and a purpose to every action, even if it seems as though that purpose is just to make me crazy. And we have those days, too. He will be the most onery obnoxious little shit and when I"m about 3 steps away from putting him on the train to join the Foreign Legion he will wrap his chubby little arms around my neck and declare: love you, mama!

And it works EVERY TIME.

Party time--take one.

Adrian, being the lucky boy he is, will be having 2 birthday parties this year. One for friends and one for family. This Sunday, it's going to be 2 of his friends from Gymboree and another kid who's mom & I are friends. So it's going to be 3 two-year olds and a 4 year old for 2 hours of morning mayhem. Whee!

I have planned that they will paint pumpkins with tempera paint, run around, and have lunch. Then everybody can go home and Adrian will take a nap. To that end, today Adrian and I purchased pumpkins, drop cloths, and a whole mess of cheapo towels for the sake of cleaning paint-smeared toddlers. Now my main concern is what to feed these kids for lunch. Adrian can't have dairy, his friend D is a picky eater, and the idea of feeding everyone spaghetti seems like more mess than I want to deal with.

In the grand scheme of things, I've got it fairly easy.

Too slow!

I was going to post photos but blogger is running too slow and I am in desparate need of a nap. For photos, go to the flickr page--click the link in the sidebar, I am also too lazy to embed links today.

Funny, ha-ha:
Adrian has a little doctors kit, which comes with a fakey syringe that squeaks when you depress the plunger(which is weird in itself). I told him it's for shots. He now call the thing "sharps".

didja miss me?

Egad!
Blogger is slow today.

Well, my fine friends I had planned to show you pictures of our lovely trip to the "beach", but you'll just have to check back later.

I haven't talked to y'all since the first, so a lot has transpired. In a random, as I remember it order:

Wednesday, October 4: Adrian and I drove to Rock Island, to stay with Grandparents Flecker. Adrian slept most of the way there, and was mostly well behaved when we got there. He discovered that he's tall enough to reach the water dispenser in the fridge door and gave himself quite the dousing. His words: Wet! Messy! Cold! Wet! That night Nina, Adrian & I went to Ducky's Lagoon for dinner. It was supposed to be Hot Rod night, but it was rained out. Adrian wasted no time in flirting with our waitress, and was rewarded with duck stamps, a tiny rubber duck, and a plastic duck call.

Saturday, October 7: Adrian goes to an Iowa Hawkeyes game with Gary & Nina and I drive back home. That afternoon, Aaron & I drive to Michigan City, IN to stay at Beachwalk. We got ourselves settled in, went for a walk on the beach: Sand! Water! Yay!
Then we went grocery shopping and out to dinner. At Red Lobster (thanks, Tootsie!) where my non-fish-eating husband ate: fried calamari, crab's legs, fried walleye, and grilled trout. I was very proud of him for trying new foods, and he didn't once turn green or throw up. Also, he experienced the magical cheddar biscuits.

Sunday: reading on the beach, lunch at the house, big nap, dinner, walk on the beach in the moonlight.

Monday: Breakfast, reading, lunch, outlet shopping (there was a creuset outlet! I got a 5 qt buffet caserole! I have been lusting after this particular piece of cookware for 2 years now), nap, walk on the beach, dinner.

Tuesday: Breakfast, Shopping at Attic Accents Antique Mall (which was good, but not as good as Coal Valley), Lunch at Eat at Moe's, where we met Moe himself. He was really friendly and the food was excellent. We ate so much that we didn't need dinner. If you're going to Michigan City, eat there.

Wednesday: we drove home. We tried to take I-94/I-80, but the traffic was horrendous and I made Aaron get off the highway so I could use the bathroom (which is no suprise to anyone who's taken a road trip with me before). We wound up taking back roads the rest of the way, and our 54 mile journey took us 2 hours.

Today is Thursday and I have many things to accomplish in the studio.
Tah, darlings!

i'm contagious

I had always suspected that my hormonal surges were contagious, but now I have proof! Adrian has been unreasonably moody today--screaming when I put him down for a nap; coping an attititude when it's time to go inside--maybe it's that Aaron's out of town and he feels unbalanced in a single parent home, or maybe it's because I am suffering from a severe case of hormone-related empathy.

This morning we were watching Sesame Street and Ernie was singing the "don't want to live on the moon" song and I cried. Real tears. And later we were watching Narnia, and I had to turn it off because it was making me erupt into tears every 5 minutes or so. And I've seen it before, I've read the book, I know what happens. But apparently in my hormone-addled state, the fact that Santa returns after 100 years of banishment was too much for me to bear.

ssh!

Adrian;

There is one thing I will never be able to figure out. Please explain as best you can how it is that you enjoy construction equipment, airplanes, motorcycles, and lawnmowers yet the coffee grinder is too loud?

Yours,
Mama

Chicken stop.

Watching Food Network, and the chef says that she's going to put some chicken stock in the pot.

Adrian: Chicken stop. Chicken! Stop!

Me: No, it's chicken stock, with a "ck" at the end.

Adrian: Chicken stuck. Chicken--Stuck---hnnnnnngh!

Pumpkins!

Today we went to Garden Patch Orchard and had us some fun on the farm! Or as much fun on the farm as I could handle. I really prefer to leave that sort of thing to the experts, and by leave I mean get in the car and drive away. Adrian fed some chickens...

Saw some bunnies with funny siamese coloring...
Rode in a wagon full of pumpkins...

Found the biggest pumpkin on the lawn...And we brought it home with us. At 40 cents a pound, I'm loath to tell you what that mamma jamma cost us--let's just say it was a third of the days expenditures.

For more pictures, check out the Flickr page.

Rock star in training.

In the mornings, Aaron likes to watch music videos on VH1 or MTV--and because I can be so very persuasive (read: bossy), we skip the "baby-inappropriate" videos (Sorry, Luda). But Adrian has come to be a fan of the Red Hot Chilli Peppers--as he proved to us this morning by putting on a crown, grabbing his guitar and jamming out to Dani California. It was the highlight of the week, really.

Aaron was asking Adrian if he would like a brother and Adrian firmly responded "NO!". So then we explained that Uncle Austin was Aaron's brother and Uncle Jono was my brother--but he still said he wasn't interested. Inquiring after his feelings regarding a sister, we were met with silence and his attempts to ignore us while he ate his breakfast of cinnamon toast and sausages. I guess he's not ready to be a big brother. Not that he'll have to worry about it anytime in the forseeable future as I am NOT currently a baby incubator.

We spent this morning at the pet store--it's closer and less expensive than going to the zoo. His favorites today were the birds; which he asked repeatedly to "hold it", and the dogs in doggie day care; all of whom were equally interested in the pint-sized human on the other side of the plate glass. Which brings us to the current dilemma: dog or no dog? baby or no baby? dog and baby seem like an overkill--but you know that I have never been one for half-measure (Move half way across the country where I know no one with in a 4 hour drive? Sure! Oklahoma here I come!) And when you get right down to it: 2 babies and a dog isn't that big of a deal, considering that my next door neighbor is a single mother of 4 who owns her own business, and sends all 4 kids to private schools. I am daily in awe of her.

So that's my fakey dilemma. And really, anything to take my mind off of the fact that winter here is going to kick my teeth out.

Baby baby baby

As I'm sure you're all tired of listening to me complain, I thought I'd share some Adrian stories--because that's really why you're all here, right?

The bad news: I don't know if it's teeth or a virus but baby's got the runs and a nasty diaper rash to boot. It hasn't dampened his spirits much, although he did tell me that he was skeerd (scared) today when I laid him down for a diaper change. It was fairly pitiful.

The good news: Baby's got manners! We recently invested in a booster seat so he could sit at the big table with MamaanDada. Previously at the end of a meal he would announce "all done", and if you didn't get there fast enough, he'd start dropping food on the floor. Now that he's moved up in the world, we told him the proper way to get out was to say "All done, excuse me please" Which has been shortened to "all done. 'scuse me". Next step: getting him to keep his napkin on his lap. He knows that the purpose of the napkin is to "catch crummies" but frankly, he doesn't care.

He's also gotten really in to going to the grocery store. So much so that he asked to go 4 times last week. I figured twice a week was enough, so we went to the pet store, fabric store, and the book store. At the book store we shared tea and a cookie. I have plans to do that again.

Adrian also has a best friend, who we shall call D. The two met in music class, and we go over to D's house about once a week. D's mom and I get along really well, so it's fun for everybody. Adrian keeps asking to go back there, but if he's got a virus I want to hold off for a few more days. D's mom, A is pregnant and I don't want to get her sick. The boys are so stinking cute together--they chase each other, play hide and seek, and share snacks. If they grow up together I know already that they are going to get into tons of mischief.

Lately when Adrian was getting into things he shouldn't I'd ask him if he was looking for trouble. He now tells me he's "looking for troubles"

It's hard to be mad for long when they're so darn cute.

You want to sit where?

Okay, my fine friends!
We have the nearly finalized guest list. Now I just have to figure out where everyone is going to sit.
There's the healthy tradition of minding politics, religion, and the subject of procreation. And with our very diverse group of family and friends we have the full spectrum covered. From the very liberal to the very conservative, from Sir Abstains-a-lot to Drinky Drinkerson. I have to find a place for everyone to sit and eat where I can be assured that cutlery will remain cutlery and not evolve into implements of deadly force.

There has also been the suggestion of letting everyone sit where they want to, but then how to avoid the table of people who sat over there because they were unsure of where to sit and now are akwardly silent because no one wants to be the first to start a conversation? I assure you that akward silence is not what I have in mind to accompany this fine meal of hot dogs and tater tots* we will be enjoying.

So if you notice that I have taken to muttering under my breath, staring off in the distance and twitching, don't mind me. I'm just trying to figure out how to herd cats.

*There was supposed to be a food tasting today but the caterer cancelled because she was sick.

Party like it's 2003

As many of you know, Aaron and I eloped in 2003--thus avoiding all of the stress/politics/hassle/financial ruin of your typical white dress/ big hair churchy nuptuals.

Or so I thought.
I was trying to think of a way to get Aaron to the East Coast so that all of my friends who hadn't met him could do so, and preferably all at once, as those of you who know me know that my schedule is usually packed from the time I hit the ground in DC until the time we take off again. Well, this brain child morphed into the party that is shrinking me. It's really become a belated wedding reception (and I do believe we hold the world title for longest time elapsed between wedding and reception), which means that I had to send invites to all kinds of people from all over the country--you know the ones I'm talking about: so and so who was a dear pal of your grandmother's back in the sixties who attended your baptism, but no, you haven't seen her since. Which is fine. I like a good party and I figure the more the merrier, right? But is it too much to ask that you RSVP?

I'm fairly certain that Miss Manners would not consider failing to respond the same as a phone call saying "sorry, we can't come". I understand that many people are working/can't afford to travel/don't want to travel with kids/don't want to come. That's cool. I have turned down invitations to weddings/graduations/christenings and I know that there are many and varied reasons for doing so. My feelings will not be hurt.
But I shouldn't have to call you and email you and call you and email you to have you tell me what I already know: you're not coming.

All of that is to say: come September 1 if I haven't heard from you I shall file a missing persons report on your behalf. And I will be eating your slice of pie.

Looking for someone to love

Hey-dee-hey!

Anyone in the Chicagoland area looking for a dog/cat/guinea pig?

http://www.furryfriendsfoundation.com/

These folks are a no kill shelter what has to close and need to adopt out all of their animals.

Check them out.

Not too old for it

I miss my Mommy.

There. I've said it. Now fling your crazy looks over my head like I can't see you.

She's not gone or on vacation or anything dramatic like that. No.
She has switched offices and they have yet to install her phone. It's not that I need to call her, but the very fact that I can't call her that is making me a bit twitchy. I am used to knowing that if I pick up and call her in the midde of the day she will answer.

Because sometimes you need another adult voice. Sometimes you need to call someone to complain about your day, or ask them exactly how did that recipe go, again?

In summation:
Kind sirs who employ my mother,
Please install a phone in her office posthaste.
I promise not to call more than twice a week.
Three times, tops.

Yours in Gratitude,
Kara

it was my birthday.

And in no particular order... we ended the day with dinner. (L-R: me in fabulous birthday attire, Erica, Aaron, Gary, Nina; taken by photoman extraordinare Jim). I should say dinner and LOTS of vodka. Sunday was a whispering kind of day around the house.
The middle of the day had Gary, Adrian and Jim outside playing ball.
And Adrian inspecting the fancy interior of Gary's new BMW Z3.

And here is but a small quantity of the aforementioned vodka.

It was a good birthday. The company was fabulous, the food was tasty, and I laughed so hard it hurt. And, as per my request, I didn't have to plan a meal, cook, or clean up all day long. And I got an ice cream maker--woo hoo! Now I just have to clear all the store bought ice cream out of the freezer to make room for the good stuff.

egads

YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME.

Adrian, champion napper exraordinaire, has just forgone his nap.

I'm off to a terrible afternoon with a cranky almost two year old.

sweet.

you ready to party?

This weekend we will have FOUR houseguests. Aaron's parents, sister and best friend will all be here.
And I will be having a birthday. (you should have one too!)
I expect both pomp and ceremony.
I don't think a small parade is out of the question.

But no clowns. Or aligators.

Have a good weekend and we'll see you next week.

Vocabulary explosion

Adrian has been repeating words and making little sentances for the past week.
The cutest thing he has begun saying: love you. Except it sounds like "wuv yew". Yesterday he went around to all his stuffed animals, picked them up, hugged them and said love you.
It was so cute I almost threw up.

He also says things like "love Dada". And he calls Lunchbox "pretty girl" (which sounds like "pree gur") because Aaron calls her pretty girl. He enjoys "kimeing" (climbing), cookies, rays (raisins), and coloring. He says "hi neighbor" to our neighbors, and will tell you that birds are up up up (like the moon, Dada, Papa and Nana--I think anything over his head qualifies as up up up)

Papa D is now "Papi", he has a Gramma blanket and a bear blanket, he likes to watch the Muh Show (Muppet Show), and he can name all of the regular Sesame Street characters, but he likes Big Bird the best.

Pastafarianism

In Kansas, there was a boy Named Bobby Henderson, and he was touched by the noodly appendage of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

Today, the noodly appendage has landed upon the baldy head of one of the Flecker-DeCarlo household.

This is to say: if you can find humor in religion, boy do we have a website for you!
http://www.venganza.org/

Go and experience the FSM for yourself.

Note: if you do not have a sense of humor in relation to God or the creation of the Universe, this website is not for you.
Also, do not peruse website whilst drinking a hot beverage.

Pop culture, full circle.

Aaron and I share a few interests, and one of those interets is a long list of television shows that we watch together. Not that we're couch potatoes, but prior to baby the couch had special well-worn divots for our respective rear ends. Post baby, things that were funny seem horribly inapropriate for someone so young and unworldly. That of course doesn't stop us from making references and jokes about the things we have seen. But, lo, children are absorbing all the time. Yea, they are the sponges of the human race.

We are constantly making jokes about "peanut butter fingers"; from the episode of Friends where Monica is planning her wedding and needs help picking out hors d'ouvres...you know? (She hands the list to Joey, he gives it back with two additions, she says "what are peanut butter fingers?" he mimes sticking his fingers in a jar of peanut butter and then eating said foodstuff)

Yesterday, Adrian asked for peanut butter. And I said "you want peanut butter?" It's an odd request for him.
And he said "yes" held up his first finger and said "finger".

Our not-quite-two-year-old just asked for peanut butter fingers.

Kazoo

Nana came to visit us and we went to Brookfield Zoo. As evident by Adrian's face, the zoo is serious business. Here we are in the very neat primate exhibit, where it rains indoors. Adrian has not been able to stop talking about it, except with his limited vocabulary it goes like this: monkey Nana kazoo monkey (points to ceiling) rain.
(Kazoo means the zoo)

Here is evidence that babies are babies, regardless of species. I have to say that the primate exhibit here makes me feel sad for the monkeys (and such) who live in zoos where they don't have access to interesting environments.

This was supposed to be the first picture in this series, but Blogger has it's own ideas about picture order. This was on the drive to Brookfield. Adrian was pretty impressed with his ability to wear sunglasses and pick his nose at the same time.
It's good to have goals, I guess.
What would a trip to the zoo be wthout visiting the elephants? I love elephants.
THIS IS NOT AN INVITATION TO BUY ME ELEPHANT TCHOTCHKES.
I'm not a tchotchke kind of girl.
But if you happen to know of a place where I could go and hang out with some elephants, that would be information I'd be interested in.

Erica; here and gone.

A record of Erica's all-too-short visit:

Monday, noon:
Me: You have to take a nap so that after nap we can go get Erica from the train station.
Adrian: Erica?
Me: Yes, Erica is coming to see us. She's taking the train.
Adrian: Train?
Me: Yes, Erica is taking the people train to come and see us. But you have to take a nap or we can't go and get her.
Adrian: Night night.

Monday, 3pm:
Adrian and I head to the train station, only to find that Erica missed the stop because a) the conductor failed to announce it and b) she doesn't move at super-human speeds.
So we wait for her to come back the other way on the next train. During the wait, all of the stuff on the floorboards proved to be extremely useful in distracting Adrian from the fact that he was strapped into his car seat. We investigated deceased lady bugs, made puppets out of empty snack containers, and read some books that had escaped the diaper bag in months prior. That took 15 minutes. Then we got Erica, came home and Erica took Adrian outside to play while I made dinner (Thai fried rice with basil-yum!).
6pm: Adrian takes a bath and shows off for Erica, splashing and doing his impression of Elmo swimming.
7pm: Aaron comes home, Adrian goes to bed. I go to yoga (where I learn that I look like I'm 20). Erica and Aaron clean the kitchen (hooray!)
9pm: I get home. We all laze around until 10, at which point I go to bed.

Tuesday 6:30am:
Adrian wakes up. We go into the living room, where Erica is sleeping.
Adrian: sssh. Erica seeping.
Me: Yes, I see that.
Adrian: ssssh.
Teletubbies are watched, at 7 Erica wakes up. Coffee and breakfast are consumed.
At 8:45 we go outside. Bubbles are blown, plants are watered. Holes are dug, hostas are planted. Then we go to the park. On the way there, we pass a small bag of pot laying on the sidewalk. At the park we discover a condom and loose change.
Adrian: monee!
We show Adrian how to put money in his pockets and go home.

Lunch is eaten, Adrian puts hotwheels stickers on Erica's face.
Noon:Naptime for Adrian, and Erica gets ready to go.

22 hours of Erica just isn't enough.

Saving the planet!

I don't know how many of you caught that special on the Discovery Channel with Tom Brokaw about Global Warming and what we "need to know"; but Aaron and I watched and were thoroughly shamed by our living habits.

According to Tom your computer, TV, and stereo use 40% of their power while turned off (as opposed to 100% while on and fully functioning) . Aaron and I have decided to test this theory: every time we finish with the computer, we turn it off and unplug it. At night before we go to bed, we unplug the TV. If Tom's assertions are correct, we should see the difference in our energy bill.
We'll let you know how it goes.

He's a sly devil, that Tom Brokaw, with his gentle voice and concern for the planet. He shames us all with his coiffed hair and LL Bean apparel.

Of course all of that is somewhat silly, when we still haven't had our recycle bin delivered by the city (after 10 months of residence). And last Friday, the truck that dispenses city cans drove right by our house, WHILE WE STOOD OUT FRONT AND WAVED OUR ARMS FOR HIM TO STOP.
This Friday, I may have to lie in the street.

Now I know my Q, R, T's!

Adrian has these tubby letters, made of some sort of foam. Not only do they stick to his head, they are an educational tool. Witness:
Aaron is giving Adrian a bath, while I tidy the living room. The following is the conversationI overheard just this evening.

Adrian: E
Aaron: That is an E!
Adrian: T
Aaron: That is a T!
Adrian: B
Aaron: That is a B! What other letters do you know?
(This continues through R, Q, O, W, A, S, U, D, P, F, H, I, K, and X)
Aaron: Kaaaaaaraaaaah!
Me: Yes?
Aaron: Did you know he knows all of his letters?
Me: Um. Yes, I think so.
Aaron: How long has this been going on?
Me: Um...couple of weeks, I think.
Aaron: Why didn't you tell me?!
Me: I don't know.

I guess I figured he'd find out eventually. And compared with all of the other stuff that Adrian is learning and doing every day, the alphabet isn't all that exciting. (Don't get your feathers ruffled!) I'm just saying he's now sharing his snacks with his toys, engaging in imaginative play--his animals graze the carpet, complete with chewing noises, he's trying to write letters (he does a mean "Q"), he cleans the toilet (no, really), and he's making little sentances.
We're also in the stage of very funny verbal mix ups.
For example: for dinner, Aaron and I had tater tots.
Adrian had tater tits.

Some stuff that happened.

this is the 4th at Brookfield zoo (the joyfully damp one), some watermelon, and baby's first haircut (for which he was rewarded marshmellows). More posting will happen when I'm not up to my elbows in addresses, envelopes, and trying to stay on the good side of the folks at the local post office. (Hi! It's me again! How many ways can we send this? Which is cheapest? Oh...you have to scale them to find out, hunh? Well...would you? Yes, I know that there's a line forming, but I'm paying in pocket change so either way, they have to wait)

Kara D: disgruntling employees everywhere.

oooh, nice

As of late, Adrian has taken to pouring water on himself at bathtime and declaring "ooooh. niiice" The 'nice' is all stretched out and breathy-sounding, and is fairly rediculous.

Not as rediculous as the other instances when he has decided to trot out his new catch phrase:

while rubbing his face on the cat

upon discovery of a long-forgotten stuffed animal

while eating watermelon

To this I would also like to add that I never thought my catch phrase would become:

we only put fingers in our nose.

Parenthood: it's a whole other reality.

Mama's got a new number!

Hello ducks, dolls, and darlings!

I promise to update you sometime soon on the crazy hectic existence that we have been living.
But the big important news is that I have a new cell number and the 571-xxx-xxxx no longer works.

I've emailed a few of you, called a few of you, but for those I have inadvertantly neglected, please email me (karacrafts(at)gmail(dot)com and I will get it to you post-haste.

You can also leave a comment here with your email address, but DO NOT LEAVE YOUR PHONE NUMBER. This is an open forum, which means anybody and everybody can see your comments!

Kiss kiss!

The rest of Virginia

Okay, I realize that a lot has happened between now and Memorial Day (like an entire month), and I haven't been posting because I should be finishing up all of my stories about the trip Adrian and I took to Virginia. But as the days go by, the details get fuzzy. So here are some images and brief descriptions. Above, Fuz is playing upside-down baby while Chris looks on. (Adrian loves upside down baby). That day was hard because Adrian didn't nap well, and was overstimulated with all of the big people he had to boss around. Kathleen was there, too but I didn't get her picture. I'm not sure why.
The next day, Lyre (on the left) and Karlee (on the right) came over and we ate and got bossed around by Adrian. It was a good time. I hate living far away from all of these fabulous people.
Jono entertains Adrian with his amazing guitar skills. Adrian tries to un-tune Jono's guitar.
And the next day we went to the airport, got on an airplane and sat on the tarmac for 2 hours, before we went back to the gate and were told to try again tomorrow because of the weather.
The day after that we got on an airplane at 6:30am and actually made it home.

See how the time and the space dilute the memory?
Sorry if this has read like a rant of the insane, but I just had to get it over and done with so I could tell you what's happening now. Like how Adrian's learning about 5 words a week. And he's starting to realize how words that sound the same don't mean the same thing, and how he's starting to put together little sentances.
It's very cool.

Journey to Virginia: days threeand four

One of the many very cool, very old houses in Salem, VA.

Day three
Friday! The day that Mem gets married!
The morning starts in Arlington with the usual wake-up rigamarole. Then Mom takes me to pick up a rental car (which makes me feel very grown up). Drive back home, load the car, distract the baby, and then it's off to Salem with a heavy heart. I was physically pained upon leaving Adrian behind. I got over that as soon as I was on I-66 and had to play dodge-the-jerks-so-i-don't-die. A game familiar to anyone who has driven in Northern Virginia. This was also the Friday prior to Memorial Day, so 66 inbound was full of Vietnam Vets on their way to DC and the Wall. I almost cried twice. But I held it together for the sake of not dying while driving. It was orginially my clever idea to take 66 to Rt 11 and mosey on down to Salem the scenic way (instead of taking the speedy 81). After hitting EVERY RED LIGHT in Harrisonburg, that plan way quickly revised to the tune of: bugger that.
I will say that driving into those mountains was very much like coming home.
I arrive in Salem, take a driving tour of the College campus--wherein I am much confused by the new construction, and then head over to Mill Mountain Coffee & Tea on Main Street. Where I run into none other than Richard Gandee. Richard and I spent lots and lots of time together freshman year because I was dating his roommate (which is another rediculous story altogether). Richard is really funny in that irreverent way that I do so enjoy. Funnier still, Richard graduated from Roanoke in 2003, and is working in Mill Mountain because he's back for more of that higher learnin'. For the mere price of a cup of coffee I got to be entertained and order Richard around. Good times. After my caffine fix, I head over to Kym and Cat's very very cute house where I will be staying overnight. We do brief cathing up, I throw on wedding clothes, look outside and it's raining! Which puts the lid on my plan of walking to the church.
After my rediculously short drive--4 blocks--it stops raining, and I walk in to say my hellos and sit. That plan is quickly changed, as I am whisked away by Mem's mom to see Mem. She was so beautiful! There was a lot of trying not cry going on.
The ceremony was beautiful, the reception a little akward, as I knew only a few people, and they seemed to all know each other. After all of that, I headed back to Cat & Kym's where I de-fancified. Then Kym and I went to Mac & Bobs for 2 whole drinks (we're wild ones) before calling it a night.

Day four
The day started with breakfast at the coffee shop with Kym. And we talked about art (which is one of the reasons that she is so awesome), and took a driving tour of Salem, and reviewed Kym's fabulous photography.
Then I was back on the road for another 200ish miles of fun. I got home in time to hang out with my little man, feed him dinner, put him to bed. There's nothing better than hearing your son say "mama" when you walk through the door.

Trip time: 30 hours.
Total trip miles: 450.
I enjoy driving, but you know what I enjoy even more?
Getting out of the car.

Papa D and Adrian.

I'd post more, but I'm just too tired.
Check out the new pictures at Flickr.

Journey to Virginia: day two

Day two
The day started nice and early--5:30 a.m. eastern standard time.
I cursed the singing birds and the jingling dog tags and the sun.
But Adrian was awake, so our day began. Breakfast was had at the kitchen table, and then it was baby away!
This was when I started to notice that he was much less a baby and much more a little person. He required less of the hovering-style supervision and more of the mindful-from-a-distance supervision. It was an improvement.
Gagah and Papa went to work, and Adrian and I found ourselves keeping busy with toys and the out-of-doors. I think that a sliding screen door and a fenced in back yard are definately high on the list for our next home. Then it was lunch, followed by nap.
Post nap, Gagah returned home from work and there was much playing to be done. By playing, I mean travel to and much money spent at DSW (a shoe heaven). It was grown-up playing. Adrian enjoyed running up and down the aisles and throwing away trash, as well as playing peek-a-boo with another bored boy.
Then we returned home, fed baby, bathed baby...and then I left the grandparents to put the baby to bed. I walked out the front door...To have dinner with the fabulous Emily and her fiance Steve. We ate at Whitlow's on Wilson (which has been in Arlington as far back as I can remember--they used to advertise their brunch on the back of the church bulletin), then strolled down a block to the Galaxy Hut. Where I discovered a few things that shocked and pained me:
1. they had painted.
2.our bartender wasn't working there anymore (granted, it's been 4 years, but come on!)
3. they were doing karaoke. At my bar.
The bar that used to house wicked indie rock bands and be painted black with white spots that suggested constellations. Now it sports silver walls and has karaoke. Plus everyone there looked like they were 12 despite the "21 and up" sign posted on the door. It pains me that my once cool hole-in-the-wall bar aspires to more. I enjoyed it's lack of pretention: the unapologetic bathroom graffiti, and the "patio" (a glorified alleyway with green plastic lawn furniture). Another reason I could never move back to Arlington.
Being the old lady that I am, I was home by 11. And I only had 2 margaritas.

Next installation: The day I drove, and sat at stoplights, and drove some more! Plus Richard Gandee, Cat and Kym Davis make guest appearances!

Journey to Virginia: day one

(Drinking Gagah's iced tea)

Here I am to recap what-all everyone missed while we were away because I was truly on vacation. Technology, I refuse to be at your beck and call.

Day one
We get up at our usual time (5:30ish a.m.) after washing of faces and packing of last minute items (toothbrush, breakfast) we are out the door to the airport. Aaron is chauffering(it's a verb now, baby!) us, as I cannot manage airplane check-in, baggage, and an eightteen month old with an insatiable curiousity in the mundane.
We arrive at the airport and our plane is running slightly behind, but that's okay-by-me. It allows us a more leisurely pace through security and not one but two bathroom stops. (It's the coffee, okay?) Then we hang out at our boarding area, where Adrian meets-and-greets all of his future constituents (or voters in American Idol season threemilliontwelve). After a snack of applesauce and a diaper change it's on to the airplane!
I honestly don't remember anything about our flight. I know it wasn't traumatic and that's good enough for me.
Mom (aka Gagah) picks us up at the airport. We take the toll road back to Chez DeCarlo, where Adrian has a quick lunch and then a crappy nap. Or no nap? It's all a little fuzzy at this point. I do remember that his first 24 hours of sleep away from home were truly wretched.
In the afternoon, there's outside play time with the dogs (Mosby aka Bees, and Blaze aka Baze), a tasty dinner courtsey of Gagah, tubby time, and much requesting of Papa D.
Papa D arrives, and there is great showmanship on the part of young Adrian: watch me throw this ball, watch me spin in circles, watch me climb this chair. All of this is to the chorus of "Papa, Papa, Papa, Papa!" Then it's bedtime! Or to hear Adrian tell it, it's time for the paper-cut and lemon-juice treatment.
Oh, the screaming and the sobbing and the general dramatics.
After an hour and a half of carrying on he finally falls asleep. (Makes you really want a baby, doesn't it?)

Tomorrow: Find out what time Adrian wakes up! Hear about the nap that was too short! Learn about how nothing stays the same or proof that I am really an old lady in a young shell.

Travel: it kills me.

(Adrian and Jono)

I often fancy myself to be an intrepid explorer of places uncharted (uncharted by me, that is) But this past week kicked me in the teeth.
I am wore out. And it was so loverly that the whole thing ended with more! airline! problems!
Due to weather, we sat in an airplane on the runway for nearly TWO HOURS before air traffic decided to cancel the flight. TWO HOURS of keeping Adrian entertained, keeping him from kicking the seat in front of us, keeping him from running in the aisle like a baby posessed. The stranger sitting next to me was so kind and so helpful and I didn't even get his name or get to say: thank you, angel from heaven in a grad student's body.

Despite all of that, Adrian kept his cool and we were able to get on a plane at 6:30 this morning and come home.
And I have many photos, which I will share once this cold oozes it's way out of my head.

Funny boy.

I've known him his whole existence and I still can't figure out how his brain works.

For example:
Adrian has the hiccups.
I said to him: you have the hiccups.
him: hiccup.
(then he looks up)

hiccUP.
look UP.

It's funny he'd make that connection.
And they say mystery is dead.

Alternate Plans

In October, Aaron has some time off from work. I told him I'd take him to London, as he has never been overseas for fun (just for Uncle Sam). But check your calendars ladies and gents! It's nearly the end of May and our dear boy has yet to get a passport.
So!
Alternate plans are being considered. I've sent away for travel brochures to some US locations, because whether or not we go to London, we have to give Adrian over to the grandparents for a week. A week without a 6 am wake up "Mama!", a week without my life revolving around the schedule of the tiny tot! Clearly I cannot sit at home--the silence would be soul-crushing. If the much needed passport is not obtained, we will still be going somewhere. Or, I can go and Aaron can stay here.

Baby house, weekends, and yelling too.

Baby prison? No! Baby House! Which Adrian pronounces "haus". Followed by "Nana"(provider of house) and "Ank Oo" (Thank you). He's recently started saying "thanks" without prompting (it happens 30% of the time), but it sounds like "angst". Either he needs to work on his diction or he's terribly precocious. (Egads! He's a teen already!)

The main attractions of the baby house are as follows: he can move it with minimal assistance, it's an excellent spot for hide-and-seek (as well as hide-and-poop), he can look out the windows while declaring "peek!", and it has funny little drawings of ladybugs all over it.
We'll see how long the love affair lasts. (Hopefully years)

It was a life saver on Sunday when everybody(my mom, Aaron's parents, and Aaron) left. There were only a few tears and they were from me (yes, I'm a big giant crybaby. Let's move on)
My mom's visit was fun, although the weather was MISERABLE. Forty degrees and rainy the whole time. Adrian calls her "Guh" for Grandma, and spent most of his time telling her to sit and/or watch. There's no doubt that he's the Little Emperor.

Yesterday he was standing on one of the dining room chairs and I asked him to sit (repeatedly). So I finally said (loudly) SIT! DOWN! his response : AAAAA! AAAAAAA!
I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. It was unexpected, and I found it really funny that he thought that would pass muster as a convincing argument in his favor.
After I was done with the laughing and the wiping of eyes, I said "that was really funny, but I still need you to sit"
And he did.
Mystery.

Pictures for yous guys.

Not much to say--hey-hey-hey.
My mom gets in tonight for a brief stay and I'm super excited. I even bought flowers.
There's still cleaning to be done (surprise, surprise) and curtains to be hung (surprise, surprise).

But enough of the balr-de-blar from me. Go to Flickr and check out the new pictures.

Blogger was too slow with the uploading today.

Translation. Adrian to English.

Here it is, an up-to-date users guide to the subtle and nuanced language of Adrian (or what one childless friend refered to as inane baby burble--wait till you have your own and then you'll see how far from inane it is)

In no particular order:

Adrianese: English

Ba : Ball
Buh: Book, Bird, Burt (from Sesame Street or Mary Poppins)
BaBa: Bottle (although this is a universal one)
Bach: Lunchbox (our cat)
Aaa: Jack (the other cat)
Ti tees: Kitties
Eeeee : Eat
Na nan: Lawn Mower
Hecah: Helicopter
Tutuck: Dump truck
Sigh : Outside
Duhstes: Downstairs
Cow: Cloud
Moo : Cow
Up : Up
App: Apple, Apricot
Coo: Cool
Fa : Far
Fwoe: Throw
Keet : Kitchen
Chay : Chair
Tash : Trash
Durt : Dirt
Wheee: Playground
Wawa : Wagon
Wawer: Water
Tee : Tea, Tree
Bi Bur: Big Bird
Emoe : Elmo
Oss : Oscar the Grouch
Goger: Grover

Most of these are words and signs, especially in the instance where one sound may mean two things. It's fairly clever how he's training us to communicate.
That's all for now. Stay tuned for further installments.

Update:18 months

Dear Adrian;

Congratulations! You're a year and a half! At which point your father would interject: only 16 and a half to go.
I believe that it is fully appropriate to crown you with the title of toddler. You walk, run, dance (including the MC Hammer side-to-side dance taught to you by your father), and do the splits. You're interested in everything, which is fun to watch but provides unpleasant side effects such as the inability to leave the house in under 20 minutes, the refusal to sit in the grocery cart, and the desire to explore the personal space of strangers. Especially strangers with hats.

Your vocabularly expands daily with the most recent additions of Iowa, business, and Dude. Iowa is courtesy of your Granpa Gary who is bound and determined to see you go to the University of Iowa (you also know Herky, and can say Hawkeye), who spent the past weekend teaching you to play catch and say Iowa. Business came about because you were calling for Granpa and I told you "he'll be right back, he's taking care of business" You then looked at me and said "bissbiz". Now it's how we describe anyone who is off doing something in which you cannot participate: Nana's cooking? Nana's business. Dad's smoking a pipe? Dada's business.
And Dude! You've said "dude" before, but now Dude applies to the one and only Jim King. You think Dude is pretty cool, as he will chase you around the yard and play catch. I also think that this increases his cool factor by a million.

Your eating habits are becoming heavily influenced by the word "no".
Me: Adrian, would you like chicken or a hot dog?
You: No.
Me: How about peaches or a banana?
You: No.
Me: A cracker?
You: No.
Me: noodles?
You: No.
Me: what do you want?
You: (sign language for eat)
Me: you want to eat?
You: No. (while trying to climb into high chair)

I'm going to stop giving you choices if you keep this up.

It's very funny to watch you grow and change. Every day you move a little closer to adulthood, all the while pushing me a little closer to the edge of my patience. I understand that this is normal, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. My least favorite is when you pretend that you can't hear me so that you can continue doing something I've just told you not to.
I recently discovered that no ammount of explaining can prevent you from pitching a fit when you've decided to do so. This time in your life has also introduced me to a crucial point in my life: learning to divert my temper. I have a fierce temper, and I spend many moments counting to ten or taking deep breaths. I'll say that this is the most difficult aspect of parenting--I try to model "cool, calm, and collected" so that you may one day be able to do the same. I want you to know that it's okay to feel angry, but it's not okay to take that feeling out on someone else. I try hard to show you that your feelings matter, that some days aren't all sunshine and marshmellows, and that no matter how many fits you throw or how many times I tell you no my love for you doesn't waiver.

Love,
Mama

more signs of spring

The choke cherry tree in our back yard--
heavenly scented delicate blossoms.

signs of spring

iced tea!


shirtless baby!

Eggs n' such

We're home, and I am pooped. And about 2 days behind on my to-do list.
I figured at the very least I should get some photos up for those of you who couldn't come and play last weekend.
This one here is a teaser. You can find the rest over at Flickr.
Adrian has his 18 month check up on Thursday, so I'll definately fill y'all in after that.
Tomorrow I need to spend all of my free time in the studio.
Squeezes all around.

mundane.

Monday, yesterday, was Adrian's second music class. He was excited this time, and seemed to catch on quickly. He was also eager for praise from our instructor, Ms. Sarah. When he got the hang of something he'd leave my lap and march right up to Ms. Sarah to show her that he totally knew what was what. I found it funny to watch him interact with the other kids, to walk away from me and assume that I would be there when he turned around. It was nice, but kind of sad--as much as I complain about him hanging on me, I also enjoy being the ultimate comforter and boo-boo fixer. Watching him befriend others and feel comfortable in a new setting made me realize how temporary this phase in his life is. Sigh. On the other hand, it looks like he's ready to take on the world...maybe as supreme ruler, with marshmellows for all.
This photo is especially for Granpa--see the Hawkeye's pants? Adrian's choice. Indoctrination complete. (Cue fight song)
And here is evidence that he is getting taller, if not gaining any weight (23 pounds and holding, baby!) Those are feety pajamas. Minus feet, as I can't zip them up when the feet are attched--previously they used to trail after him down the hall, making him look as though he was reenacting scenes from Stephen King's Misery. (I can't read King novels anymore. Haven't been able to since early adolescence, really. They give me perpetual heebie jeebies).

Today we took a jaunt down to the health food store to get more Rice Milk for Adrian. Then we came home and played in the yard, until we noticed our neighbor (Teenie) out washing her car. In an effort to be neighborly, we went over and struck up a conversation. And then we wound up caravaning down to the food pantry and I have an appointment to get set up as a regular client next week. Because as Teenie says "it's not about being poor--it's about putting your money to better use".
Teenie says a lot of things.

Sunday.

Any day is a good day to play with some jewelry. Adrian especially enjoys bracelets, as they can be worn on the arm or the foot.
See how well he smiles for the camera? Also, I have to tell you, I am loving my new camera. (Cannon Powershot S2 IS) A good digiCam is one of the joys of life.
One last photo of the bejeweled wonder.
Tomorrow is music class! And now that I know where the joint is located-- tucked in the back of the stripmall, up the hill, completely invisible from the road--I anticipate less squirming from the A-man. Of course I'll still have to listen to him pull at his car seat straps and demand "out! out!" for the majority of the ride. He'll quiet down for a verse or two of "the wheels on the bus", but I can only come up with so many noises a bus can make. Maybe tomorrow there will be hippos on the bus....

Mountaineer Flecker

So when I talk about Adrian being a crazy, climbing monkey I'm not exaggerating. Here is photographic proof :Step one: climb into basket of clean laundry. (Also note that mom and dad could use some extra storage space for that giant pile of clean linens in the background)
Step two: hoist self onto bed, using foot rail as leverage.
Step three: smile pretty for the camera.
It's not just the bed. It's anywhere, everywhere all day long.

That's why I was hoping to burn some of this energy off with playdates (went fine, but J is almost 4, not almost 3 as I had thought), Gymboree music class (he was a little intimidated at first, but seemed to get the hang of it), and Story time at the library. There's no verdict yet on any of it, other than all that stuff wears me out.

Update: 17 months

Dear A-man;

Taa-daah! You're 17 months old and for your 17-month-day you got an ear infection! Pretty crappy present, I know. This has not deterred you from playing outside in the 60 degree weather, or pointing out babies everywhere we go.

Your curiousity has become insatiable, nearly surpassing your need to climb things. You explore everything within arm's reach, and your dad has taught you a new phrase to apply to things that are suitably impressive: cool, dude.

Yesterday we went to the library for your first story hour. You were much more interested in arranging (and rearranging) the name tags than you were in the story. There were 2 other babies your age present and the three of you took turns passing markers and nametags back and forth, as well as pointing out the Sesame Street characters on one another's clothing. It was your first interaction with people your own size and I think it went well. I've also signed you up for a music class at the local Gymboree, and we have our first play date coming up on Sunday. (Which we may have to cancel depending on how you feel)
It's spring, and you and I need to get out and do things!
You've started singing on your own this month and I have to tell you that I love it. You sing for no reason and you sing no discernable tune, but it always involves a bit of sticking your tongue out and waving your arms around. The arm-waving you picked up from Harry Belefonte's performance on the Muppet Show...which you request by holding the DVD and saying "day"(for Day-Oh) over and over. You also enjoy watching John Denver sing "Inch by Inch", which you refer to as "by".
Now that the weather has started to warm up a bit, I try to take you outside twice a day. You dig in the dirt with sticks and your fingers, you roll the ball down the hill, open and close the garden gate to hear the squeak, and we play peek-a-boo by chasing each other around the tree in the back yard. You also try to walk yourself down to the park on occasion, and are really indignant when I won't let you go on your own.
You also have a new bed time as befitting your big-boy status. Seven o'clock is the new "nigh-nigh" time and it seems to be working--you actually sleep until 5:50 instead of 5:30. Those 20 minutes make a world of difference--to me. But the later bedtime makes cooking dinner a little more akward, as we are busy with your dinner, bath, and bed time ritual from 5-7. The upside is that you now get to see Dada on work nights, and he brushes your teeth and reads your bed time story. It's good for both of you.
And now my tired brain is winding down towards a nap. I love you, little boy.
Love,
Mama

Found you!

What with all of the snot and crankiness, you'd think we'd be virtual slugs around here--but no. Adrian has kept me busy, busy, busy while Aaron spends his days at work.
The little man has kept both of us entertained with his swank dancing skills and his new-found love of singing. He has also upped the activity level of peek-a-boo by turning it into a sort of hide-and-seek; he'll tell you "peek" and then run down the hall and into his room. At this point you're supposed to duck behind a piece of furniture, and when he comes toddling by yell "peek" and then catch him before he falls down from laughing.

And then there's the mastery of a new phrase : no no. He learned it from the KT Tunstall song "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree"; this means that he doesn't say it so much as sing it. Which has it's own charm.

And call me an unfit mother, but I let Adrian play in the cat food. He stirs it. Or he'll spoon it from one side of the bowl to the other--it's one of those double-feeders. I also let him play in the cat water...which he tries to drink using a measuring spoon. I'm not so keen on the ingesting of the cat-water, but you should see how very enthralled he is playing "kitchen" for the cats. The new plan is to get him a little play-stove so he can cook while I cook...rather than hang off my leg while I cook.

And I apologize for the lack of photos but I am through with using the video camera to get still shots. I finally bought a digital camera and it is scheduled to arrive next week. I've got ants in my pants over the excitement of it.
Although not actual ants in my pants because I've had that before and it's really quite awful. Especially when you're 19 and have to strip down to your underoos in front of a whole mess of boys who live in your dorm because you just can't stand the agony any longer. Pain and embarrassment--double score!

A bed time story

Adrian's bed time routine starts with a bath (or tubby, as it's known around here), then he gets dressed while watching Baby Einstein, then we brush his teeth (all 8 of them), say good night to the cats and Dada. At this point we go into his room, shut the door, turn on the white noise machine and Adrian picks out 2 books for me to read before he gets into bed.

As I was getting ready to read Adrian his bed time story tonight; he approached me with his book of choice, leaned in real close and whispered "pee pees".

I paused. This isn't something we normally discuss prior to bed, so I was momentarily confused.

Then aha! "Adrian, did you go pee-pees? Do you need me to change your diaper?"
He nods yes, the diaper is changed, and we go on with our routine.

Could it be time to talk about toilet training? Doesn't he seem young for that?

Big smiles

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Originally uploaded by kdecarlo.

We're home, and a sick mucusy mess are we.

We flew in Sunday, and by Monday we were filling tissues and hacking up phlegm nuggets. (how's that for a mental image?)
The trip home was only slightly less scarring than the trip out. We got our bags checked in without a problem, then headed over to the security check point. While waiting in line--literally 2 people away from the metal detecor--Adrian peed on me. Twice. I had him sitting on my hip and all of a sudden, my side felt very very warm. And all I could think was "oh. no." Because in the diaper bag of doom I had a complete change of clothes for him, while I had to dry my shirt out as best I could under the hand dryer in the ladies room. And the pee-pee pants? I threw them out. I wasn't in the mood to haul around a zip-loc bag with urine soaked pants inside.
So we get on the plane and we're in a seat next to someone--in the window side, and I can not get the attention of the flight attendants to see if we can move to one of the very very empty rows in back. So the whole flight, Adrian is squirming and kicking the lady next to us, who was very understanding--bless her soul.
Then we land in Chicago--20 minutes early and there's no sign of Aaron. And Adrian is going "Dada? Dada? Da? da?" b/c I told him that when we got off the plane, we'd see Dada. Aaron shows up at the time we were supposed to land, and my suitcase doesn't show up at all. They've failed to put it on the plane. Ergo, United I quit you. That's 2 times out of the past 3 that you've deemed my belongings not important enough to put on the plane.
And now my nose needs a kleenex and I need some hot tea.
Travel has kicked me in the teeth.

Update: 16 months (and a few days)

It's not that I forgot, it's just that there's no February 29th.

Dear A,

This month has been full of the very many cute things you have decided to master: throwing things in the trash (by request), picking up after yourself, organizing your toys just so, kissing the cats goodnight, climbing up onto our bed to watch the trucks on the highway, and finding a new favorite movie (Harry Potter & the sorcerer's Stone). There's also been the not-so-cute things we have had to endure: the screaming, flailing fits (complete with self-induced head trauma!); the flinging food to the floor to indicate the end of a meal, grinding crackers into the carpet using your heels, your insistence on repeating a behavior after we have told you 'no'. And the be-all, end-all that has led to this month's weaning: biting my nipples and then laughing when I say "no". Injuring people is not funny, especially when people is me.

But for the most part you are a delightful little boy. You enjoy stomping around the house to find the spot that makes the most noise. You enjoy collecting sticks in the back yard, front yard, side walk, and pretty much anywhere sticks can be found.
You now have your own jewelry box and delight in putting on necklaces and bracelets and looking at yourself in the mirror. You enjoy hats--wearing them, putting them on us, other people in them--our trip through airport was a running tally on who had a hat and who didn't.
You love children and especially babies--I realize that's common at this age, but it's so darn cute to watch your face light up when you see other kids.

You're trying so hard to communicate with us, and for the most part we understand you, but every now and then you utter a long sting of single syllables and look at us expectantly. Sorry, but I didn't get that last part? Was it da bur dl gk or da bur dl tuk? Not that either means anything to me.

Right now we're visiting your grandparents in DC and they are loving every minute of it. Tonight at dinner you were in full dinner-theater mode and had your Grandma laughing out loud. You make me laugh at least once a day, and I love when I can do the same for you.

I am grateful to have you in my life you funny little man.

Love,
Mama

PS--thanks for finally saying Mama--it makes the tough times a little easier.

the gods must be crazy

Or I was past due.
Holee crap-today was the worst travel day I've ever had--worse that the time that I had to be re-booked and re-routed twice because I missed connecting flights. Worse than that time i drove back to Roanoke from Birmingham and someone peed in my car while we were sitting in Knoxville traffic. Worse than that time we went to the beach and got into a car accident on the side of the car where I was all curled up sleeping, peaceful-like. Worse than...
Okay. You get the idea.
I've traveled a lot. I like to travel--it's an excellent opportunity to test your comfort zone, try new things, and make lists (and boy-howdy do I love those lists!)
I take it as a given that with all of this travel, there will be a few rough trips. But today I found where the deep dark chasm of my patience ends. Today I thought "maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to leave Adrian on this plane"
Let's start our day at 6AM, per usual. Everyone gets up, gets dressed, Aaron makes coffee, changes & dresses Adrian, and I pack all of Adrian's sleepy-time possesions.

6:50AM-we're out the door. 5 minutes behind schedule, but nobody's sweating.
We manage to hit nearly every red light and fail to factor in going-to-work traffic. But that only adds 10 minutes to our journey.

7:35AM--we arrive at Midway, check in, check our bags, get boarding passes, blar-de-dar, easy peasy.

7:45AM--we go through security.

8AM--we get to our gate, and I troll Adrian down to the bathroom for a diaper change. He HATES diaper changes in public bathrooms. There needs to be a rehaul of diaper changing stations, complete with soft music, babycentric TVs nestled into the walls, and NO toilets that flush louder than Niagara Falls.

8:10AM--an announcement is made--the doom begins! Our plane has been diverted to O'Hare because of Fog conditions (damn you, fog), so we all need to make new arrangements. The lovely ticketing agents procure new flights, boarding passes and travel vouchers for us, so that we can take the shuttle from Midway to O'Hare. We have to go and procure our bags from the carousel and take them with us.

9AM--the shuttle leaves for O'Hare. Adrian quickly loses his interest in his carseatless journey and wants to wander about the van. As you can imagine, that was the biggest no-go ever.

9:45AM--arrive at O'Hare. I have to check this g-dforsaken suitcase because I cannot manage it and Adrian. I ask a ticket agent what do I do? I already have a boarding pass I just need to check this bag? I am directed to a self-check-in station. It doesn't work. I already have a boarding pass. I ask for help. I am told to try again. Meanwhile Adrian has decided to play: befriend the stranger. I yell at him to "COME! HERE!" in public. Without shame. I should mention at this point he's removed his shoes and socks and is a barefoot baby. I cannot get the accursed machine to help me. I give up and proceed to security, figuring I'll check the damned bag plane side. The security lady tells me they won't do that here and that I HAVE to check the suitcase. Back down the line I go, back around the corner, hauling Adrian who has decided that this is a good time to go limp. I am telling him that he has to help me and hold on when a service rep spots me and asks if I'd like a trolley. No, I tell her, I want to talk to a real person who can help me. I get my wish! I talk to Jeremy, who checks my bag lickety-split (I now harbor a secret crush on Jeremy for his can-do attitude and willingness to assist me).
Back through security we go, back through the diaper change routine, to our boarding area-where Adrian eats applesauce and charms old ladies and men in uniform.
10:54AM--we board the plane. For those of you familiar with Adrian's schedule, you'll realize that we are now 6 minutes away from nap time. Since he was not wearing a watch, Adrian mistook nap time for crazy-time. He fussed, fidgeted, pooped, screamed, and cried. Dee-lightful. And then, when we had landed, he rested his head against me and fell asleep. In that cute, super-exhausted way they do so that you can smell that little-kid smell wafting up from their hair and your heart melts and all is forgiven.
He slept until we walked through the doors at baggage claim. A total of 15 minutes.
ANd he was awake until he went to bed.
It was a looooong day.
ANd now I am going to bed.
please pardon all punctuationa nd spelling errors--I am too tired to proof.

This thing on my neck...

the, waddaya call it? head?
head!
right.
So, my head hasn't been functioning at 100% lately. Things keep falling out of it. More specifically, I can't remember who I've told and who I haven't told that Adrian and I will be in Northern Virginia next week.
Tuesday through Sunday. As in we leave Sunday.
So there it is, internets. The datebook is now open, and I will be scheduling fun at your leisure.

smell the domesticity

Aaron is upstairs cooking pulgoki...
(deep inhale)
mmmmmmmmm.

life, she is good!

Evil! and then not so evil...

Things I hate:
programs what install themselves on your computer and then refuse to be moved to the recycle bin.

Whoever is responsible for the abomination known as the search engine Zango should be drawn and quartered. Or at least made to stand in tapioca pudding on a hot day near a nest of quizzical bees.

Things I love:
Adrian's laugh. It comes all the way up from his toes.
The smell of peonies. (heaven)
New tubes of paint!
Lists. (see?)
Eating pappadums. (crunch-crunch-crunch)
Iced tea the way my mom makes it.
The smell of kittens...puppies, too.
Goofing up song lyrics by replacing one word for another (Example: Lords of Acid's Pussy. Replace pussy with puppy. Much funnier! )
Muppets. (even sell-out Pizza Hut Muppets)

Things what make me nervous:
Squealing tires
Bees
Running with pointy things (sticks, forks, knives, scissors)
packing for trips
airports

things you should do at least once before you die:
visit a foreign country
fly first class
climb a tree
watch the sun come up
hold the door for a stranger
bring your mom flowers
have cake for breakfast
cuddle a puppy