Pictures From June

Is that box really strong enough for this? Doubt it.

Pretending to be a bat. (Because bats always make kissy lips, doncha know?)

Gotta love a hibachi restaurant that gives kids a paper chef's hat!

Swings = Weston's favorite thing ever. He sat in this one for about 30 minutes...

...And then, he switched over to this one for another 10 minutes.

Is it just me or does Luke look enormous in this picture???

This is one of the first pictures I have of Weston standing without holding onto anything. He ALSO looks enormous.

Sweet baby chub!

Bike riding is the best. Even if your helmet is held together by super glue.

McMoose and Luke at the duckpond in the town where we went to college. (We = McMoose and I. Just in case you didn't get that.)

The monkey on my back. He entertains himself by tugging on my hair.

You can see that Luke is just thrilled about being a part of this picture, can't you?

McMoose proposed to me beside a tree. This is all that's left of the tree. *Tear*

Curiouser and Curiouser

You know, back before these little people came into my life, I used to notice things. Strange things. And I questioned those strange things. "Why does that car have moose antlers on it," I wondered. Or, "I wonder who thought it was a good idea to put a dog crate on a motorcycle." CURIOSITY! It was a great thing.

I find that I have very little curiosity now. I'm pretty sure that along with the calcium from my bones and teeth, my children also leeched all the curiosity from my brain during their time as fetuses. (Um. Feti? Fetum? Feet? No, fetuses. I think.) But you can take calcium supplements and so I decided that I should also be able to supplement myself with curiosity. (And while we're on the subject, I should probably TAKE calcium supplements. Right. It's on the three-mile long to-do list. I should get around to it in about, oh, twenty years or so.)

Where was I going with this? Oh, right. Curiosity. So. Here is a list of the curious things I've seen today:

1. A car in the parking lot of a strip mall with no wheels. Zero wheels. It was up on cinderblocks and had a tow notice on it. But just...why? Or perhaps more relevantly, HOW?

2. A skateboarding while pulling a red wagon with a toddler and a dog in it. I was highly impressed. And also, a little confounded by the physics of the whole operation. How do you get enough momentum on the skateboard to pull the wagon without constantly needing to push with your feet (which she wasn't doing?)

3. A goldfish in a bowl sitting on top of an (empty, parked) minivan. Ok. So. I'm guessing the owners of goldfish and minivan didn't want the fish in the van because...what, they were worried that the car would get too hot and their pet might end up getting cooked? But, uh, is the top of the minivan any better? In the blazing sun? (P.S.-Why is a goldfish going to a sports/activity mall in the first place? The place has an ice rink, a couple of play spaces for kids, a toy store, a preschool...where does the goldfish come into all of this?

One!

Weston turned one on Monday! All day, I kept looking at my watch and thinking, "At this time last year, I was ___." And then, of course, we got busy and suddenly, I looked at my watch and realized I had missed the birth moment by almost an hour. Ah, well--the sign of a day well-spent, I suppose.

The biggest piece of recent excitement is that he's walking! Over the past week or so, he has really started wanting to be on his feet more and takes 10 or more steps without falling over. Right now, we're in the 50% walking, 50% crawling phase, but I know that stage is short-lived, so I'm enjoying every crawling moment we have left.

His favorite word is "Uh-oh," and he says it constantly. He very much enjoys sitting in his high chair, dropping food over the side, and then pointing to it and saying, "Uh-oh!" Apparently, he thinks we're fools who won't realize that he's doing it on purpose. He also likes to say bye-bye, ball, all done (ah-duh!), and Mama. He used to say Mama to call me and Dada to call McMoose, but he has now clumped us both together as Mama. He also uses Mama to mean, "Pick me up, you fools," and "Give me more food THIS INSTANT." In other words, he walks/crawls around babbling Mama most of the time and then adds in the other words as necessary.

He is such a snugglebug and loves hugs and kisses. Of course, we have to be somewhat liberal in defining "kiss," because most of the time, he comes at us with a wide-open mouth and puts his teeth on us as a show of affection. Or, uh, aggression? No, I'm pretty sure it's affection. Or he puts his lips on ours and waits for us to blow into his mouth, which is apparently the funniest thing ever. (Weirdo.)

He loves to repeat everything--sounds, actions, faces. He and McMoose like to waggle their tongues at each other and he and Luke sit in the car and make faces at each other and laugh uproariously. We spent a weekend last month in the town where we went to college and instead of crying or sleeping on the drive up there and back, Luke and Weston threw toys back and forth and laughed at the top of their lungs, which has led me to the decision that our next vehicle needs to be a limo. They can create a ruckus in the back and McMoose and I can sit up front and close the sound-proof window and we'll all be happy.

This past year has gone by unbelievably fast and it's hard to believe that in what feels like the blink of an eye, our chubster of a baby has turned into a chubster of a joyful, loving toddler. Happy (belated) birthday, Weston!

Bug Me Not, Gnat

Gnats. Oh, how I despise gnats.

We had them every summer at the apartment, but as with all negative things that happened at the apartment, I blamed it on, well, the apartment. Of course, it was completely ridiculous to assume that once we had a house, gnats would go the way of shared air vents and loud bass at midnight because here we are: no shared walls, and gnats, gnats everywhere.

I've mounted a seek and destroy campaign against them, but, uh, have you ever tried to seek and destroy gnats? They're freakishly intelligent. I'm pretty sure their mission in life is to annoy larger life forms and then disappear. (Oh, and I'm also pretty sure that they actually have the power to disappear. Not just fly away, but just disappear. Maybe the key to understanding teleportation is to study gnats in greater detail.) And even on the very rare occasion that I do manage to get one, the thought that lingers in the back of my mind is that this gnat has probably already reproduced and although I might have hastened its trip out of this world by a couple of hours, chances are that there are a couple dozen more coming to take its place tomorrow.

One-liners from Luke

While looking at some ladybugs through a microscope at the science museum: "All these bugs appear to be dead. Or asleep. Hmm...let's go with asleep."

While playing with Jenga blocks: "I made a 'Y' with these blocks. It was very cool. I feel clever."

While trying to explain a noise he heard: "It was this squeaking, this kind of loudly quiet squeaking. You know how things can be loud and quiet at the same time? Like, I don't know, I can't think of it right now. It was just a noise. I'm done talking about this now."

When telling his friend about a little toy frog he got at the science museum: "I got this dead frog from the museum. The life and science one. There's a butterfly house there, and have you ever seen the North Carolina butterflies? I think a crane put the butterflies there."

When I made the mistake of calling him Boo-Boo: "I am not Boo-Boo. I am Luke. Or Luka. Or Lucas. Or Lucas Rohan. Or Lulu. Or Lukabear. Or Lukaberry-Crunch. Those are your options, okay, Mama? Your ONLY options."

I try to remember the fact that the above statements are very cute and the presence of the one-liners and the child who utters them enrich my life greatly when I'm faced with that very same child saying to me, "Mama, if you tell me to stop, I will kick you." I mean, really? He's the size of a well-built toad and he's threatening me with bodily harm? Lord, grant me patience.

New Frontiers

Things that Weston has figured out how to climb today:

-Luke's bunk bed stairs. Each stair is more than half his height, and somehow, he managed it anyway. And he is doing his very best to figure out how to get to the mattress once he gets to the top stair and once that happens, I will never, ever get to relax again.

-Luke's bed (ie-the bottom bunk.) He used to climb on a trampoline and then climb the bed, so as long as we kept the trampoline away from the bed, things that were on the bed were "safe." This was integral because Luke really, really needs a safe place to put his lego creations so that Gojira--er, Weston--doesn't demolish them. All that came to a crashing halt a few hours ago when he figured out that he could prop his foot up on the bed frame and then heave himself over the mattress. Awesome.

-The couch. No, this one is really ingenious because he pushes the cushion off the exact right amount--just enough to use the bottom part as a foothold, but not so much that it destablizes the cushion. Oy.

-Luke's art table. He pushed a child-size chair over to it and then climbed up on top. Pushed. A. Chair. Over.

I'm pretty sure he's going to want to climb Everest someday.

Loopholes: Found. Buttons: Pushed.

So. Three-year-olds. Can we discuss those for a minute? I don't understand the saying "Terrible Twos," because really, two was a dream compared to...this:

*I'm trying to make lunch, when Luke walks up to me and licks my arm*
Me: Please don't lick me.
*Luke licks his finger and then touches me with it*
Me: Stop. Keep your tongue in your mouth.
*Luke drools on his hand and wipes it on my shirt*
Me: Luke! I do not want your slobber on me. Do you want to help me make a sandwich?
*He shakes his head no, tells me he wants to do a puzzle and goes to the playroom. 45 seconds later, he returns with a damp napkin, which he rubs on my foot.*
Me: I SAID I DO NOT WANT SLOBBER ON ME!
Luke, grinning: Actually, you said you didn't want MY slobber on you. That was WESTON'S slobber.

You. Have. GOT. To. Be. Kidding. Me.