BANG!

Hey all! I have recovered (mostly) from the bone-rattling cough of 2008--and compared to the strep throat of '07 it was nothing. Upon recovery, I discovered that Fiona's hair had grown over her eyes in the manner of that sheepdog from those Bugs Bunny cartoons. I didn't want to cut all her hair because the back does this really awesome curly thing, so I determined the solution to be: bangs! Now she looks like a toddler and not so much like a warner brothers cartoon character.

Also it should be duly noted that she is a daddy's girl if ever there was one. Last night for dinner we had roast chicken and she and Aaron stood over it and picked the carcass clean. She was pretty thrilled with the lack of eating utensils and the general caveman aspect of eating meat directly off the bones. Witness:

How do?

hello, and don't mind the phlegm!

Adrian and I seem to have acquired the cold that will not die. I've got the chest-congested horrible hacking cough, and he's got the river of snot flowing from his nose. We could have gone as Pestilence for Halloween, but I don't think the neighbors would've appreciated it much.

Fion and Aaron are untouched by the germy germs. It seems unfair really, that the two people who care least about their health should be unscathed. Fiona eats things off the ground, for crying out loud! Things like dirt!

Halloween was good. In the spirit of things, Fiona would respond to the trick or treaters chorus with "ZoeyandElmo!" Adrian got to trick or treat AND hand out candy AND sit by the firepit. He capped the night off by sitting the wrong way in his chair and falling over into a pile of sticks. Sticks that were NOT on fire, to clarify.
Speaking of fire--hey wow. There was a giant fire in Tinley last night. It was about 3 blocks from us, on the other side of the train station--5 engines were sent to put it out and there were 2 explosions. And I can't find any information about it on any of the local newspaper websites. What's the deal with that? I surely can't be considered the source of breaking news here.
And now I am going to go to bed. Maybe I can sleep this cough away...
Pass the nyquil, wouldja?

Guess who's FOUR!

Why, The Amazing Adrian, of course. And as an early birthday present, Jack Frost brought some snow.

And for your viewing pleasure, here is Fiona Leigh. It's almost time to eat so all is right in her world.

We need

I have decided that we need some kind of climby-thing for the backyard. Something that will keep Adrian from climbing the exterior of the steps and all over the living room furniture.

This looks promising, but I don't know that I'm ready to drop $250. Although, if he tears apart my couch I'll be spending more on a new couch....

maybe I'll just sew some weights into the cuffs of his pants.

Snicklefritz and more

Hello Internets!

I have not been posting as I have been living. And cleaning up vomit (not my own) and silently cursing Aaron's employers.

Lets start with the vomit, shall we? (Note to self--if ever greeted this way in a restaurant: run!) Adrian has a sensitive disposition. About everything. I'm fairly certain he was born this way and that I did not turn him into the kind of kid who has a meltdown over trying new foods, but back to the topic at hand....He has a fear of new foods and a stubborn streak that would impress a mule. As a result I'm always trying to find foods that are similar to foods he will eat in order to gently widen his gastronomic repetoire. Well, last week I overdid it. ANd it took me a full 4 nights of vomit to narrow down the offending culprits to either tree nuts or milk. So we're back to a milkless, tree nut free diet. He has his 4 year old check up in November and I think I'm going to go ahead and request an allergy test so I don't have to play vomit-cleaner on a regular basis.

And the silent cursing is two-fold. Fold one: sending Aaron out of town for 5 days for a training seminar based off of the Army's 27 catagories of good leadership. Hullo you morons! Aaron was in the Army. He was an officer. he is overly familiar with said 27 catagories. And fold two: He gets home and surprise and congrats! We're changing your schedule 180degrees! You were on night shift, now you are on days! And those days that used to be your days off will be the days you work! And you had vacation? Well, I just don't know about that....
I hate that they treat him like a doormat.
Don't they know that's my job?
(kidding!)
The computer is low on battery power, so no spellcheck for you!

Crazy!

So dear friends, the time is upon us again when Aaron's wacky schedule gets even wackier. As a result, the kids are staging a sleep boycott. Adrian was up last night at 11, 1, 5, and 6. Fiona was up at 3 and 4.

This is how kids make you stupid. It's like...something terrible. With no sleep.

Yeah.
Totally.

You like pictures?

The kids hanging out in the garage. It's where they sleep. In a kennel. I kid! I kid! Adrian actually has the biggest bedroom in the house, but those are photos for another day.

This is Adrian in the living room, talking on the phone to Granma. (It's like he's 13 already)

Here is Fiona, practicing for Mardi Gras.

Here is Fiona, devouring an apple. She eats the whole thing: stem, core, seeds. She and Cookie Monster could go head-to-head in an eating contest.

And lastly, Adrian and Fiona relaxing while watching a movie this morning. Awwww.

the mystery of moving...

Now I know I threw A LOT of stuff out while packing, but I know that I didn't throw out 3 USB cords.
How can it be that 3 USB cords can vanish in a 4 mile move? So I am shopping for a new USB cord so I can upload all the photos I have to show you! Photos of the kids, photos of the house--many pictures to come!

Crazy, you say?

I am. Always have been a little. But I believe that the ultimate testament to my crazy is as follows:
Come Thursday, I will have 6 musicians camping in my basement for 2 nights.
(Providing that the van isn't too broken and the venue they are supposed to play isn't underwater.)
So I have been mopping the basement (stupid effing hurricane) with Pinesol. Repeatedly. So much so that there is a faint piney afterscent that follows me wheree're I go.
And! as if that's not enough--I have volunteered to find them a new venue should their scheduled venue be rained out. Do I actually know anyone in a position to book a show at a venue? No.
But I know people who may know people!
And I can be very persuasive.
Persuasive like a steamroller.

How's your weather?

too many...so much...rain.
flooded basement.
much mopping.
f--- you, hurricane ike. f-you in your f-ing eye.

Not hiding!

Oi!

I am not hiding-- I promise. I'm just busy and self-absorbed at the moment.
I was doing some crazy running around to get Adrian enrolled in the preschool provided by the school district. (yipee!) His new daily agenda: make mom crazy. And I'd have to say that he goes above and beyond.

Fiona is rapidly expanding her vocabularly. Her two favorite words: Emmie! and Casey! Which would be the names of the dogs on either side of us.

As for me, I have been spending hours in my studio! I love having my own space again. I love not having to clean up other people's messes before I can start my work. And I have scoped out 4 different venues to try and sell my work.

And once I find the USB cord I'll upload some photos.

Why I love this crazy milennium

As I sit here typing to you and drinking my frosty cold limoncello, a robot is doing my vacuuming. And I'm not talking about Aaron, my friends. Oh no. We have a lovely delightful and wondrous roomba from irobot. And i love him.
Another thing that's great about this technology age? I am wireless! I could be typing to you from the can! I'm not, but if the need arose I totally could.
Also theres this nifty internets thing--it's the best way to procrastinate EVER. Read a blog, click a link, and 3 hours later you know everything you never wanted to know about the life cycle of an earwig. (ew)
And did I mention digital cable? It's the best babysitter ever. I mean, I love that sprout channel. It's the best way to keep Adrian from bellowing my name as I'm trying to change a filthy diaper or put Fiona down for a nap. And I can watch MadMen on demand! I haven't yet, but I'm so going to.
Speaking of procrastination, I really need to go shower. But first, I should look and see if the weather tomorrow is going to be weather--like, because you just never know.

Funny thing...

Those of you who know me in real life know that I have multiple email addresses. One of these addresses requires frequent changes to my password to protect my safety yadda yadda yadda. At first I simply rotated through other passwords, but this account also has a thing where you can't doubleback until you've gone through a dozen original passwords. At our old house I had the computer remember the password for me and sign in for me and defeat the whole purpose of the crazy password change game. But... but this is the new house. With the new IP address. And the new computer, which doesn't even know how to get to the old email--I actually have to type the address into the browser.
And?
And I don't remember the latest password. I have tried at least 6--one new one each day and I am at a loss. And I didn't write it down. Sure I could call the helpdesk and have them reset my password, but by the time I get the chance to sit at the computer they have stopped answering the phone. So?
Basically I've done the online equivilent of locking myself out of the house.
I'm sure that sometime in the next few days I'll get the chance to make that phone call but in the meantime just email me at my gmail address, ok?

Mostly.

Hello beloved readers!
We are mostly in our new home. Every day we unpack one room, the next day we wonder should that really go there? And then we arrange, rearrange, and arrange again. The good news? We love our house--we love our neighbors--and the kids rooms are unpacked. We have gone wireless!
The bad news? The kids have gone to crazytown.

moving day

hullo dear readers!
yesterday aaron and i bought a house. yipee!
today is moving day.
moving day--bane of my existence.
here's a transcript for your viewing pleasure:
me: what is this shit? where did this come from? how did we amass all this shit? where am i supposed to put all this shit? should i really be moving boxes that have been unopened for 3 years or more?
aaron: i dunno.
me: razzin frazzin flibbity gibbet! (twitchy eye)

so...i'll be a little busy and a lot offline for the next 5 or so days.
if you need me, you can always ring me on the telephone.

back to the doom of packing.
DOOOOM!

So...what's new with you?

My dad came to visit. He and I and AD went to Navy Pier to visit with his beloved Pride Of Baltimore II. He's done 2 or 3 sails on this ship, and plans to do more. If my dad won the lottery he'd more than likely quit his day job and sail the seas.

Coming up, I'll get to visit with some friends that I haven't seen in a while: Kathleen and Fuz. A good time will be had by all, and I do mean all b/c Aaron is working so I have to bring the brood along.

And I have been going into the city once a week to meet with some friends that I met during the class I took at the SAIC.

And the biggest news: we are in the process of buying a house. A WHOLE HOUSE. We're in the part of that process where we have to wait...and wait. And get ants in our pants. Which brings me round to my least favorite activity: packing boxes!
I have found myself procrastinating by any means possible...including a renewed interest in dental hygiene. Ooh! Dental Floss!
So that's me.
Your turn!

And when he came home...

Adrian went for a week-long holiday at Nana and Papa's house. He went to the air show, the zoo, to see a movie, to play mini-golf...they wore him out with all the going and doing. And when he came home he was like a brand-new kid. Gone are the temper tantrums, the snarky comments, and being mean for the sake of meanness. My mom tells me that it goes in six month cycles, and I'm beginning to wonder if it has to do with being cooped in the house during the long and unpleasant winter months.
At any rate, he has been delightful for the past 2 weeks and I'm loving it.


In Fiona news: Chocolate pudding is good.

Egads! Fiona Leigh is 1!

And quite frankly, she's pretty stoked about it. You would be too, if turning one meant a party and cake!
Here she's rocking some sweet shades on her way to the birthday festivities.


And then there was cake...


Which received a passing grade, and made it to the level of "so good I'll smear it into my hair"


Hey, it's my party--I'll wear cake if I want to. Back off!

Ahhh, Fiona Leigh.
At the age of one you are cheerful, inquisitive, and a little sassy. You have a goofy sense of humor--in this way you and your brother are very much alike. But there are so many ways in which you stand apart. You are so gentle with the cats and other babies, and if you really like someone (or something) you'll give it a kiss. At your birthday party you were so enamored of your snack of cracker and cheese that it received a kiss. You are not as interested in the water as your brother is, you much prefer to dig in the dirt or pull up the flowers. You love to sit and look at books, or bounce around to music.
I love that you don't take any crap from your brother--keep your ground! He needs to know that he can't push you around. I love that you love to eat. We've only found a few things that you aren't interested in consuming--and you'll put anything from the floor into your mouth. I have lost count of the number of googly eyes you've tried to consume.
Your vocabulary is growing every day, but you seem to reserve your talking for the family. I don't know if it's shyness or slyness, but you won't talk to just anyone.
You are a joy every day, and I love you.
Love,
Mama

Congratulate me!

Welcome to post 401!

I'd love to have lots of pithy things to say about posting 400 times in 4 years, but the long hard truth is: having babies makes you tired. Being tired makes you kind of dumb.

In other news, I took some classes at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago, and did a little blogging about it here. It made me think that I really would've kicked ass at Art School, if I hadn't been talked out of going. It also made me realize that I'm going to have to wait another 6 months to a year before I get back into a heavy art work schedule again.

Adrian is making me crazy--as only little boys can! This morning I had to tell him: don't eat your boogers, eat your breakfast.
Also, he has become exceedingly anxious about damn near everything and I find it really awful. Like for pete's sake kid, when I am in the bathroom I have no intention of climbing out the window to freedom. I don't need an escort. Does he heed these sage and sensible words? No. Instead I have had to explain to him what a period is and why boys don't get them. Although I am far more comfortable with that than I am with the opposite end of life. And don't think we've escaped the questions about death, either. OH NO. In fact he is quite fascinated by the whole thing and asks relentless questions about the expiration of life. Thank gods we haven't gotten to the metaphysics of death yet because that is a multi-cultural, multi-religious can of worms that I am not sure how to approach.
And in addition to his fascination with death, we have a fascination with superheroes! And bad guys! And how bad guys can be beat up by super heroes! And how quite possibly, the answer to all of life's disappointments is the beating up of the "bad guy" of the moment! Enter in threats of violence coupled with actual brute force. There's been manyMANYmany time outs for hitting, kicking, pushing, punching, and throwing directed at people. Frequently at Fiona Leigh, because in Adrian's rosy view of the world, life was better before she got here. I will give her credit though--she has no qualms about hitting him square in the face when he starts the melee.

As for my part, I remember being angry enough to hit my younger sibling, but I know it wasn't a daily, hourly occurrence. I also remember being really anxious about the monsters in my closet who were out to steal my opposable thumbs--but that was when I was 5. So maybe the whole furious/anxious Adrian is just genetic code, which means he should grow out of it. In the meantime, his butt will wear a groove into the time out spot and I will count the gray hairs as they arrive.
So far, we're up to 3.

Heeey!

This is Fiona's impression of the Fonz.
There's something about that facial expression that reminds me of my mom's sister Jan. I don't know exactly what it is, but for those of you who know her--do you see it too?

So here's a bit of a stunner: Fiona Leigh will be ONE YEAR OLD in FIVE WEEKS.
Where did 2007 go? What do you mean it's 2008?
Did anybody else loose 2003?

Techno crazed

Hullo!
As I type this I am simultaneously texting, uploading music to my portable music device, and knocking back a glass of wine. Who said that you can't do it all at once? (Let me add: it's easier to do it all at once after the kids are in bed)

This month's highlights:


Adrian got one of those hippity-hop bouncy balls. The basement is the perfect location for rainy day bouncing.

We visited Aaron's parents. It was a nightmare drive out there, with Adrian whining and screaming for nearly the entire drive.

My mom came to visit! Whee! As in weee packed A LOT into 4 days.


And finally: Fiona has learned to read. Well, not really. But every day she pulls all the books off the shelf and carefully inspects each one.

She's either going to be a librarian or have a wicked case of OCD.

Happy April, all.

Look! It's Fiona!

Egads! She stands!
I realize that Fiona has been getting the short end of the blogging stick of late. That's not because she's low baby on the totem pole, so much as it is that she is so very good. She sleeps well, she eats well, and she's quite possibly the most cheerful person I know.
I figure I'd post some photos and let you all bask in the joy that is Fiona Wee.


She loves to eat--all the live long day.



She helps Dad sort the laundry.



And she's almost ALWAYS smiling. Deeeelightful, through and through.
Now, brace yourselves...Adrian has a new haircut.


He's in the middle of chewing, which is why the funny face. But the hair! He requested a "sweet mohawk" from his dad last week and dad complied.
Boys will be boys, no doubt about that.

Posts from the land of Zombies.

Hullo to all--

I am writing to you from a place I haven't been in many many years: sleep deprived. It's an awful place and I recommend that you don't visit. Ever. How did I come to be here, you ask? Ah. Sit back and relax while I regale you with the tale of the past three weeks....

Things you should know beforehand: Aaron's job has a crazy swinging schedule. He works 4 dasy for 13 hours a day and then has 4 off. For 2 months he works during the day--leaving the house at 5am and returning home at 7pm. Then they switch! And he works nights. Same deal, 13 hour days.
Now our tale of terror: When he's on days, Aaron gets home and we all sit down and have dinner together. Then he and Adrian play while I put Fiona to bed. When he's on nights I am outnumbered by 2 tiny people to whom the word 'patience' is merely a collection of sounds. Basically I'm being yelled at by either Adrian or Fiona. Fiona b/c she's tired or wants attention, and Adrian b/c I won't ignore Fiona and "leave her in her bed". Even if it were possible to train her to go to bed at 5pm, I wouldn't do simply because then she'd be up at 5am. Not that that would make a difference. Herein lies the problem: Adrian HATES it when Aaron works nights. It creates all kinds of anxiety that his 3 year old brain is unable to put into words. It gets translated into actions instead...he has nightmares and he wakes up every 2 hours and seeks me out. It started 3 weeks ago and is continuing to this day. He sleeps in his bed until midnight just fine, and then I see him at 12, 2, 4 and 6 when he finally starts his day. Of course somewhere in there Fiona wakes up for her nightly feeding, so I'm up for that too. I've taken to going to bed at 9:30 so I can get 3ish hours of uninterrupted sleep. I hate this. I hate being so exhausted that I have no patience. I hate feeling trapped to this horrendous cycle of no sleep. I hate that I can't fix it. He's too little to be medicated. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say to Adrian to convince him that I'm not going to disappear in the middle of the night.

It takes a 3 year old...

It takes a 3 year old to demonstrate enthusiasm for food in a way that no one else can match.

Hey all.
Sorry to leave you hanging after the last post of doom and gloom. But life is chugging along and I am trying to find time to sit down at the computer rather than do all of the other mundane tasks of momdom.
Things here are allright. Adrian is going to preschool 3 days a week for 6 hours which gives me a little time to breathe deeply and enjoy the quiet. Fiona is crawling and pulling up and following Adrian at every opportunity, which he is enjoying (this week). I am making grand plans for gardens and art (involving solder!), and finding my life full of all of the blah chores: laundry, cooking, dishes, keeping the floors free of debris for the crawling girl. I'd love to tackle a big chore like making a pile of things to donate to Goodwill, but the very thought of such a project wears me out.
And now I have to go for a hair cut, with someone other than my regular stylist b/c she called in sick--this is the second appointment that has been canceled. I'm starting to take it a little personally. All of that is to say that I may be sporting a terrible head of hair for the forseeable future. In which case: hooray for hats.

ME!

Hiya!

Amber keeps asking me to post about me, so if you are completely bored by self-indulgent mundane drivel now would be the time to walk away.

Aaaah. Let's see. The weighty question I've been asked to answer is how I'm doing. The glib answer to that would be fair to medium. The long answer, if you've got the time is as follows:

I'm doing better.
Winter is the worst time of the year for me. I hate the cold. I hate being trapped indoors. I hate getting up before the sun. I hate that I can't go outside and plunk a plant in the ground until the end of April due to the ground being an iceberg with some dirt mixed in. I'm frustrated by my 3 year-old. Not because he's doing anything particularly awful or out of character but because I have been so black I can't see the humor in raising a high-spirited smarty pants. My patience has been non-existent these past 2 months and I feel like I've been yelling over stupid shit and basically putting everyone around me on edge. I see it, I know it's happening and I can't stop myself. It's really awful to know that you're the party crasher. That being said, this past week I feel like I've turned a corner. Maybe it's because the sun is getting up before me, maybe it's because February is almost over, maybe it's because I have gotten back into exercising--or maybe it's because Adrian's back to preschool and I feel like I can get 10 minutes of quiet before the sun goes down. I think it has more to do with daylight than preschool--but I'm not ruling anything out.
With this renewed energy I'm also sneaking moments here and there to get some art done, and that gives me a sense of purpose (outside of being the mom). I am still trying to figure out how to parlez that art-thing into a money maker. It could be difficult, considering my last 5 graphic design jobs were done for free. To be fair, I do get portfolio filler and references should I ever decide to pursue the graphic design route. I just dunno. It would be great to have people pay me to "art it up". Any of you out there want to pass me some cash in exchange for some art just say the word, yo.
On that note I'm gonna take my chilly buns upstairs and get working on my newest piece.
Peace.

Photos for you!

Welcome to February--my worst month of the year. I get a full on case of the blahs and do a lot of avoidance of any extraneous activities. Hence, blogging gets a back seat. As does laundry and dishes 2 days out of 5. But that's ok. I am kept plenty busy managing a 3 year old and an 8 month old who crawls. And here they are:

This is Fiona's usual expression and a general comment on her overall personality and demeanor.


Here is Adrian with his personal hero, Nick. (Aaron's cousin)


Here is Adrian and Aunt Elaine--the famous Aunt Elaine who helped me to so many prenatal appointments.



Adrian with Aunt Erica--his favorite girl in the whole wide world. This may be because she lets him do things that are verboten at home, or just because she's fun.


And here is Adrian with Uncle Austin, who's home on leave for a month. Austin's nickname is Spud. Adrian calls him Uncle Fud.

arr, matey.

Now that Adrian is 3 there are some concepts that we're supposed to be teaching him; compliance with the social contract, manners, and a sense of boundaries.
So we were hanging on the couch after he had bathed and a teachable moment presented itself. I casually mention the parts of his body that are considered private and that the only people who should be touching that part of him are his parents, his doctor and himself. I also mention that he shouldn't be touching anyone else's privates. He nods thoughtfully and I think: I am so awesome at this! I should totally open a school for parent-child communication!
And then he says: but I want to touch pirates.
Sigh.
Let's start over, shall we?
PRivates, not PIrates.

The never-ending christmas!

December 22: Christmas I. Gifts from Grandparents Flecker, Aunt Toots and Great-grandma Flecker.

December 24: Christmas I 1/2. Presents from Nessa & Sandy, and Great Grandparents Schablow.

December 25: Christmas II. Presents from Grandparents DeCarlo, Aunt Carmela & Uncle Steve.


December 28: Christmas III. AKA the Puetz family Christmas.

This year was, in a word, ridiculous. I can only hope that we aren't setting his expectations too high.
I remember the story my high school English teacher used to tell about her childhood Christmases: they got an orange. and one present. and some pocket money.

I feel...strangely guilty that we're able to do this much celebrating. I know that we're really lucky to live when and where we do, and to have so many lovely people who care for us the way they do. I feel like there's not quite enough words to tell you all how much I appreciate all that y'all do, how much I appreciate the way you make Adrian's face light up, how loved I know he feels when he's around you all.

It was a bad day

Yesterday may possibly have to go down in the annals as a day not to be repeated.

Everything was fine up until 5:45pm.
Then the shit hit the fan.

Adrian and I are sitting at the dinner table and he's got ants in his pants and can't sit still. And to add to his antsy-pantsy dance, he decides to use his fork as a drum stick and the plates & table as his drum kit. Not acceptable. This is a standing house rule. I give him 3 warnings then take away the fork. Woe unto those who shall deprive him of his cutlery! 20 minutes of sobbing and hysteria over a stupid fork. We replaced the "big boy fork" with a baby fork and hustled his tushie to bed.

Then a few hours later, Jack decides that it is time to supplement his meals with a mouse. He brought said deceased rodent into my house and tried to eat it off the dining room floor. Mama don't play that.
For those of you who don't know Jack there are two important things to note: firstly, he is a cat. secondly, he never catches his own rodents. He finds ones that have been pre-caught. And in Jack's mind, rodents are without expiration date. There have been rodents that are so far past living that...lets just say that the circle of life can be really gross and wriggly.

Then (it gets better!) at 12:54 am the smoke alarm goes off! I groggily haul my butt out of bed and yank it down off the wall b/c it is not the regular beep-beep-beep of the smoke detectors of old, but more of a beep. beepity-beep. beep. And ours is a new fangled smoke/carbon monoxide doohickey. I'm trying to read the instructions on the back and it's happily chirruping away, and I read the line: if the red light is flashing, get out of the house & call the fire department. I flip the mamajamma over and sure enough the red light couldn't be happier about being a red light: look how i blink! So first I call the fire department, then I wake the weensy ones and haul them out to the car to wait for assistance. Poor Adrian is so confused and cold, i stick him in the car w/ the heat running & a blanket--Fiona is all snuggly in her bunting and could care less. The paramedics arrive, check the house for CO and declare it safe to reenter. Turns out I should probably just change the batteries. And if I hadn't been woken from a dead slumber I probably would've figured that out on my own.
So now I feel like a giant ass for having called the firefighters, and woken the babies, and I was hoping for one of those undo-buttons to miraculously appear in front of me, but no such luck.

And where was Aaron for all of this?
At work.
He misses all the fun.

Because...I said so.

How-dee.
It's been almost a month since I said hi-do. And that means that very few of you know of the failure of project: family dog. Huge flaming failure. Which is a pity, because what a sweet dog! The main problems with the doggie arrangement were as follows:
1. Dog was an unexpected gift. (kind of like an unexpected pregnancy, but with more legs. And a tail.)
2. Adrian could not, would not follow the doggy rules. He really enjoyed getting the pup all riled up and then complained when the pup did puppy things, like pulling on clothing.
3. Aaron was quite ready to make my life more complicated than necessary by acting like an overgrown toddler in response to having a dog thrust upon us.

So what did we do? We returned the dog to the gifters and said find him a new home. Which they did in less than 8 hours. And now sweet puppy is pampered in a toddler-free home. I still miss his buggy eyes and sweet temper, but it's also nice not to have to repeat the rules OVER AND OVER AND OVER again to a 3 year old who doesn't want to hear or obey.

What else is new? Adrian has developed some kind of anxiety, which he copes with by chewing the back of his hands. If I knew what was making him anxious I could fix it, but I've only got suspicions, not concrete conclusions.
Fiona rolls! And sits! And shrieks--mostly at Adrian. She'll be 6 months on the 14th...and she's still a joyful bundle of baby. She's an excellent sleeper, never grumpy--even when she was producing more mucus than should be allowed by law. When that girl gets a cold she really over does it with the congestion.
And now we are awaiting giftmas. It'll be a veritable Bacchanal of toys for tiny people. I'm not sure how I feel about the tide of stuff...but I am grateful that so many people want to make this a wonderful time of year for the tiny ones.

a brand new addition!

Introducing: Tucker the Trucker!


Featuring: a boy and his dog.


Needless to say, I've been a bit busier than usual these past few days. Oh! And to ice the cake, Adrian developed an ear infection yesterday.

to see a film

in a theatre is a real treat...treat as in the last time I saw a film in a theatre Adrian was 10 months old.
This past weekend, thanks to the presence of my favorite mother-in-law, Aaron & I went to see Dan in Real Life with some friends. It was a good movie, entertaining and all that, yes I'd recommend it, but...
It's been 5 nights and I'm still completely puzzled by Dane Cook's so very very white teeth.
How did they get to be so white?
Did it hurt?
Do you think he now has really sensitive teeth and can only consume room-temperature food and breathe through his nose?

To sum up: I need to get out more often.

Photos of our busyness

Warning! What you are about to witness is pure hideousness!



A vile trashcan invading possum! I don't understand how anyone could find these animals to be cute--look at it! Gaah! The horror! (To reward you for your bravery, there are pictures of Adrian and Fiona to follow)



Nothin' says "good morning" like a face full of chocolate donut.




Fiona in the exersaucer! She seems to be growing exponentially...click here to compare with Adrian in the same device.


Whoops! Haha... I just realized that this is sideways. Oh well. Here is Adrian's dino costume courtesy of The Dude (Jim King)...although AD puts it on and declares "I'm an inguana!"

So there you have it--photos from the land of busy. Now I have to go and work on a graphic design project for some dudes. Whee!

oi! what a week!

Well! Friends and neighbors, I apologize for being away so long, but we have been BUSY.
Fiona Leigh has been battling the goopy eye--not quite conjunctivitis, but still ick. She's also being trying to roll over.

Adrian Christopher had his very first day of preschool this week! And I got pictures, but not digital ones. He had fun, and was ready to go back on Friday. So we got all dressed and back pack on and went to school and whoops! No school on Friday. Poor Adrian was so excited to go, and so bummed that there was no school. (Bad Mom!)

And what else? We had a hideous awful pair of LIVE possums in our trash can. And what did we learn from this? Our city has no animal control. What is that?! So we let the buggers loose and the very next day our neighbor won the possum roulette. Evil nasty vile beasties.

AD turns 3 in 9 days. Does that seem unreal for anyone else?

Barb & Dave, this one's for you!

As Adrian approaches his 3rd birthday (as the asteroid hurtles towards the Earth), one of the most startling changes he is undergoing would be the development of his imagination. This has resulted in numerous hours spent pretending to be someone else. Most notably Nick (his cousin) or Shana (another cousin).When Adrian is pretending to be Nick he is doing big boy things: playing ball, helping in the kitchen, or watching TV on the couch. Shana, on the other hand, has become a scapegoat for all activities forbidden or dangerous. Example?

Me: Adrian, don't climb the back of the couch.
Adrian: Shana doos that. I'm Shana!

or
Adrian: I'm Shana. Watch me jump on the stairs!
Me: I don't think so, buddy.
Adrian: Shana does do that.

All little boys should be delivered with notices that read:
Upon the approach of my third birthday I will be seized with the need to run, jump, and climb at every available opportunity. It is your responsibility to prevent my untimely end in these matters. Best of luck to you!

Call me...

Call me a bad mother. Not as in bad-mamma-jamma, but bad as in: for shame!

I am having difficulty dealing with Adrian's new spate of little-person behaviors. Maybe it's because I'm used to him being such a compliant happy chap, maybe it's because we're both stubborn, but there are days when I think: I wish I could sign you up for school because you are getting on my nerves.
And it's not that he's mean or bad or even mischievous, it's that he has so much energy and can't seem to put a lid on it when the lid needs to be put on. And the emphatic refusal of any suggestions that might help him to productively spend the energy is quite trying. Example? How about jumping rather than hitting things with toys? How about putting on some music and dancing rather than using baby toys as nunchucks in the vicinity of the cats? How about we go outside and kick the ball around rather than jumping off the couch?

Which brings us to grievance time: some obnoxious neighborhood kids have walked off with Adrian's soccer ball(in addition to his two kickballs). These are probably the same kids that come up into our driveway when we're not here to play in his sand table. Just a tip, kids: if you're going to play with other people's stuff when they're not around you might want to put it back the way you found it. I have a feeling they'd probably make off with the table if they could shift it. It's a pity that I haven't caught them, but I am thinking of posting a large sign in the front yard that says:
NO HALLOWEEN CANDY UNLESS ALL OF ADRIAN'S TOYS ARE RETURNED.

I am prematurely a cranky old lady.

photo-heavy post

Fiona Leigh as of last week. I just can't get enough of those chubby, kissable cheeks! I'm still waiting for her to roll over...and she is showing no inclination to do so. Ah well. All in good time, I guess.


Adrian's new race car apron, made by yours truly. He wears it when he helps me in the kitchen. He is an excellent stirrer, measurer, and dumper of canned things into pots. And to answer the question "who does Adrian look like?" Take at look at this:



Me, circa 1984. (Photo courtesy of Aunt Carmela)

my least favorite phrase

uttered by Adrian, usually from another room:
I spilled just a little bit.

Fiona Leigh and Zombie Boy

Here are my two lovlies yesterday.

Fiona Leigh is an all-night sleeper and a smiley happy baby. She's pushing up on her belly, laughing a little bit, and trying like crazy to get her arms to follow her commands. She loves to watch Adrian, the television, and the cats.

Adrian is...well, he's almost 3. He's willful and determined, curious and fearless. He's remarkably sweet with his sister and crazy wild fool with his best friend. He's also decided that sleeping is for weenies and he's not going have any of it. You can imagine my joy at this new development. He's also decided that he's going to be a superhero when he grows up. Either that or a delivery man.

It's good to have goals.

a little too quiet...

Adrian goes downstairs to amuse himself while I nurse Fiona before her nap. She falls asleep and I put her in bed. Then I realize that I haven't heard a peep out of Adrian for at least 5 minutes...
I creep downstairs and HOLY CRAP THERE'S PAINT ON THE CARPET.
Turns out little man scaled the bar to reach the paint and then decided to empty 5 containers into one cup. When he turned around and saw me he cheerfully announced: I'm mixing the colors!

Yes. Yes you are.

Two is a funny age

This morning Aaron shaved his beard off. Adrian looked at him and asked "what's wrong with your face?"

And more Toddler Translations!

Toddler to English:

Man Book = Guide Book

Arm Clock = Alarm Clock

here I am!

Since we last spoke:

I have turned 27. It's a lot like 26, but closer to 30 and with less alcohol. (who knew?)

Fiona Leigh has turned 9 weeks old and passed her check up with flying colors--she's 11 1/2 pounds and says Iowa. I'm pretty sure that's just a fluke, but Grandparents Flecker seem to enjoy it. She also holds her wee noggin up and is determined to sit up--failing, but persevering.

Adrian has decided that the time for toilet training is now. He has told me that he's learning to go in the potty so he can go to karate chop school. We've had a week in underwear and he's doing very well. I am thrilled that he taking this step forward and even more thrilled that I only have to buy diapers for one now. He's pretty pleased with himself, too. He announced to his art class "I pee in the potty now". All were suitably impressed.

And now it's time for Toddler Translations!

From Toddler to English:

Joy Sauce= Soy Sauce
Fider Man= Spider Man
Anks= Thanks
Fantaskick Four= Fantastic Four
Masstass= Moustache

A month and then some.

Hello to all. Life has been busy busy. I am just starting to get used to sleep deprivation and life with two little ones. And my findings are thus: two children equals four times as much laundry and four times longer to get out the door. It doesn't seem like that would work out mathematically, but that's the reality of it.

Adrian has done very well with his sister, the main problems arising when he's tired and she needs to be fed. He's also decided that he's going to grow up to be a crane operator or Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs.

Fiona mostly does this. She's still spitting up frequently, earning her the moniker: puking princess of the south side. But she's also one of the smilingest babies I've ever known. I guess it's a good balance.
Here's the fearsome duo being all tucked in, at Adrian's request. And that's all I have for now--as I have to go change Adrian's stinky diaper. Fiona, for her part, hasn't pooped in 5 days.

I have no idea when the next installment will be, so just keep checking in.

4 weeks old tomorrow

Little Miss Fiona Leigh, at 3 weeks & 5 days old.

The differences between Fiona and Adrian at this age are astounding.
She is a champeen sleeper. She sleeps through nearly every noise imaginable, she has no trouble sleeping alone in her bed or her playpen, and usually lulls herself to sleep before she has a chance to get overtired and fussy. JOY! Fiona is now smiling, but most of her smiles are reserved for our resident thespian, Adrian Christopher. She LOVES to watch Adrian, and will babble to him more so than to us. And for his part, Adrian tells her (frequently) "I love you, Fiona" in a sweet and gentle voice. (It is at this point that I would like to say that I have the best kids ever) Unlike Adrian at this age, Fiona is not a screamer. She voices her disapproval by grunting, although she will let out a full cry if she's hungry and I'm not making quick enough with the breast milk.
I love how she stares intently at us when we hold her, as if she's trying to memorize our features. I love how she's so laid back and agreeable--it makes dealing with a 2 year old much more tolerable.
This 2-kid thing seems to be pretty spectacular, and although I am loopy from lack of sleep I would do it all over again for sure.

A mini vacation

Adrian has gone to Rock Island for a mini vacation with his grandparents and the house is very quiet...too quiet.
Last night to pass the time, Aaron and I played "find the smell"--there's an odd odor in our dining/kitchen area and we have no idea what it is or where it's coming from. Aaron even pulled out the fridge in case the cats had left us a half-digested treat behind it but no luck. So now in addition to haunted plumbing we have mysterious smells. I think it may be time to move.

Fiona is doing well, sleeping well and is a general joy to be around. Next week marks the first time I will be a mom alone with 2 little ones and I'm very nervous about the whole thing. I'm sure there's some kind of trick to it, but I don't know what that trick is yet. A friend of mine has opted for the never-leave-the-house method of child rearing but that doesn't appeal to me much. I'm sure I'll figure it out as the days tick by....

Sorry there are no pictures today--I'm charging the camera's batteries.