Free without Purchase

On Saturday we went to our neighbor's church's carnival. We'd seen the sign that said "Free food, games, music!" Of course, we didn't really believe it. Sure, maybe a free miniature Hershey bar and $5 for a hot dog. Guess what? Everything was free. We got to the main table and they handed us a food ticket with drawings of cotton candy, hot dogs, chips and soda, that each got punched when picked up the represented food, I guess so we wouldn't load up on 15 cones of cotton candy (blech). The lady suggested we enter the raffle, and G asked how much each ticket was, and she looked at him and repeated, "It's free." A scary clown gave A. a balloon. A. also earned tickets at the games (sort of - he tried to kill the rubber ducks in the duck pond and got several tickets for that and nearly took out a young boy with a golf club at the putting green) and we traded the tickets in for a plastic truck, a couple cheap necklaces that look smashing on him and a monkey coloring book. We played in the toddler's bounce house, ate hot dogs, chips and soda, tried our hand (or feet) at the free cake walk, and listened to the mediocre Christian pop the hip young Lutherans were singing. Everything really was free, and no pressure to join the church, either. It was remarkable.

Blegh

Sigh. I had such high hopes for today. We had nothing planned, except maybe a trip to Costco. I was quite motivated to use the day to get organized, to catch up on scrapbook pages, etc. I did get the fishbowl cleaned, and A. is clean and doesn't seem too hungry, so I guess that's a success. I was just bone tired. Tired down in the marrow. I'm writing this by dragging one forefinger across the keyboard while I rest my forehead on the monitor. And anxious, too, with the hyperventilating and such, for no reason. This is about the time I'm supposed to ovulate, so I blame a drop in estrogen. Can't wait for menopause. To hell with the warnings - I'll take a risk of cancer with hormone replacement over the almost certainty of slitting my throat any day.

And A. was tired too. He went down for a nap a full hour and a half early, which meant he got up earlier than usual, which didn't bode well for the rest of the day. For future reference, A., here are some things to avoid next time your Mama can barely put one foot in front of the other:

1. Don't act like it's the death scene in Romeo and Juliet when I have to part Thomas and Percy (train cars who stick together with magnets) for ONE MILLISECOND to get your arms out of the car seat straps.

2. Don't pile books on my face when I'm lying on the sofa.

3. Ditto for cars and trucks.

4. Don't throw your jammies in the trash. I know you're trying to help, but they don't go there and I don't always see them in there before I throw coffee grounds away.

5. Don't scream that you need raisins in the grocery store when you have eaten nothing but raisins all day long.

6. On a similiar vein, don't eat raisins all day long without pooping. You have no idea how that scares me.

I expect that we are on the same page now. For my part, I will let you eat pretty much anything you want on these days. Cheese, raisins, yogurt, it's all good, right? Papa'll give you some vegetables tomorrow. And any time you want a "Big Huuug" like they say on Teletubbies, I'm your gal.

"Rollin' Along With The Ramblin' Ramblings..."

1. Will someone please tell me what the secret is to keeping shorts and pants on little toddler boys? They won't stay up. The 12-month stuff is too tight, but the 18-month (and 24-month) fall down. Actually, the knit elastic-waist ones stay on OK, but denim and khaki are way too heavy and their heaviness just weighs the shorts down until poor little guy has turned into one of those kids with their crotches at their knees. Maybe I should just give up, put boxer shorts under the pants, stick a pick in his hair and be done with it.

2. Please retire "Everything I Know I Learned in Kindergarten" from all commencement speeches hereforth.

3. I take that back - keep "EIKILIK" and retire all student speakers. Also, no one cares what the President of the School Board has to say.

4. Look at this picture
And tell me it doesn't give you a headache. Thanks to Dan for that one.

Side effects of being a mother

...of a toddler. I've got the damn "Hat" song from Teletubbies stuck in my head. For those not familiar with it, it goes a little something like this: "Hat haaaat hat haaaat hat haaaat hat." Repeat over and over and over.

Early Lesson in the Feminine Mystique

Had a Memorial Day BBQ at Other Big Sister's house, and it was very funny to watch A. and his cousin (I'll call her K.) interact. N. is 7 months older than A., and she adores him with every fiber of her being. Except when he plays with her toys. It struck me that they were the perfect Mars/Venus pair - she wanted his attention, hugs and kisses, to sit next to him, etc. He let himself be hugged and kissed a couple of times, but clearly thought she was being a little too high-maintenance. At the table, she wanted to be near him and he really couldn't have cared less. (Sitting 3 people away was just too far! Reminded me of high school where you HAD to sit next to the guy you liked and a real friend would never sit in between you because she KNOWS you like him). And his response was so typical - he can't be bothered when he's eating or watching TV. She was also really, really tired - the toddler version of PMS - and was quick to fly off the handle because THAT'S HER BARBIE PHONE, DAMNIT! A., being the child of therapists that he is, saw her anger mounting and literally ran from it and hid. Taking the Barbie phone with him, of course.

MIA

Yeah, I was MIA this week - Big Sister and Big Niece came and visited and a good time was had by all (especially them the second night when we fixed the hard-as-rock-futon problem).

The SWAN: What the hell was that? I realize I'm late on the bandwagon here, but with so many reality TV shows, sometimes I just watch the final episode. I'm a busy woman, people! So, these women have found new lives and new self-esteem through plastic surgery? They've overcome massive odds to succeed in their makeovers and they feel like new women? As Squeaky Weasel noted, they look like a bunch of drag queens. You know what I think? These women need to go work on a burn unit for a while. Then come back and cry about how awful you had it. I'm all about shallow TV, but this bugged me.

Cuteness: Our little neighbor boy (about 7) plays football with his parents in front of our house after dinner most nights. A. adores him so we go out with our soccer ball and kick it around next to them while I try to keep A. from running into the middle of their game. So A. and I are out there alone one afternoon, and all of a sudden A. grabs the ball, squats to the ground, and says, "Too! Fiiiv! Sik!", drops the ball and runs wildly in a big circle. It took me a couple rounds of this to figure out he was imitating the neighbors playing football. Oh, man, it was funny.

More cuteness: A. resisted baby sign language in the worst way possible. He clearly never got the memo that says babies are supposed to take to this stuff like ducks to water, and would only do the signs for "airplane" and "hot" for months. He absolutely refused to do the sign for nursing, and refused to say anything like "nurse." He preferred to pull on my shirt, and he'd sit up when he was done with one side and I'd say, "Other side?" and he'd say "Yep!" Fine, it got the point across, whatever. But now he's had a leap of little brain development and now says, "Shiiiide!" and "Udder shiide!" for nursing.

It's a Brand New Day...

So whaddya think of the new topper? The idea is summertime, if it's not obvious. And yes, that is A. on the far right. There's another cute photo of him with a mohawk (what else do you do when you have to slather sunscreen all over a baby's scalp but create cute hairstyles?), but I liked this one. He's mad there because he was chomping on a lemon and I took it away. Don't worry, everyone, I gave it back.

Here in sunny California, it's gray and the sun is AWOL. About 6-8 times a year, G teaches a couple's communication workshop and has to take our big TV and VCR to the office for a few days. We substitute my tiny early-90's-era TV in our family room, don't have a second VCR, and the DVD doesn't work with this TV. This access to only 35 channels and no recorded video creates a bit of a crisis for A., as both Playhouse Disney and his beloved Teletubbie/Thomas videos are inaccessible. He rarely throws tantrums but he was really pissed off this morning. It's times like these I think, "Hmmm. Maybe we let him watch too much TV."

More Random Stuff

1. Saw 11 clients today. For you non-therapists, that's a lot. Exchange of the day:

Me: So you disagreed with your mother?
Client: It's not that, I just thought she was wrong.

2. G. took care of A. for 12 hours AND had dinner ready for me when I got home. My hubby - I think I'll keep him. (Anyone remember the old Geritol commercial? Which reminds me, see #5)

3. A. finally figured out the whole "Bye" thing. He'd say it if we prompted him, but I don't think he totally understood what it was about until now. Last night we were walking to bed, and he suddenly turned and said, "Bye, cahs!" and waved to the toy cars. I guess you'd have to be his mother, but it was really cute.

4. Haven't watched American Idol yet. Had to tape it because it was on at the same time as the West Wing finale. But I forgot to give my public service announcement: "STATE OF HAWAII, STEP AWAY FROM THE PHONES!"

5. I'm reading "Bitch in the House." Good collection of essays about marriage, motherhood and women's roles that is way overdue at the library because by the time I get to bed I'm exhausted and can only read 3 pages at a time. OK, so anyway, it's got me thinking that the first feminist I knew was my mother. She didn't work outside the house and as far as I know never had any ambition except being a wife and mother. But I know she was a feminist by the way she'd yell at the commercials on TV. Remember the old Wisk commercials where someone would notice the grimy collar on some dude and he'd glare at his wife and she'd look embarrassed by his "Ring Around the Collar?" My mom, while folding laundry, would yell at the TV: "Tell him to wash his goddamned neck!" She hated the Geritol commercial too, where the dude would say condescendingly, "My wife - I think I'll keep her!" (later immortalized in that great Mary Chapin Carpenter song). And she said once that she admired my sister's husband for pitching in and helping around the house (he still keeps a lovely house, I must say). The more I think abot it, the more I realize how trapped she felt and how unsatisfied she was with her role, and frankly, it explains a lot. Can't ask her about it because she died when I was 21, but I'm grateful for the message she sent about not just buying into the fantasy that women were supposed to be happy that they had a husband and children, and really couldn't expect anything more in life. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband and little leprechaun, but I'm glad I have more options. And because I have more options, I don't resent the role of wife and mother, because I really feel I've chosen them. I don't think my mother thought she had a choice.

This blog has...

been observing a weekend of silence in honor of Lily Saedis. Her funeral was yesterday, and the burial is today. Our friends are attending the burial and cleaning Ani's house afterwards. My hearts go out to them and the family. A fund has been set up for Lily's family - we hope to buy a leaf on the Tree of Hope for little Lily, as well as help her family with other expenses. A PayPal donation button has been added to the left sidebar.

In other news....

A. is obsessed with cars. It used to be that cars were "cahs" and trucks were "CAHS!" Now he can say "truck," which is good because it lets him give me the status of what type of vehicle is outside our car window as we're driving. Which he does, constantly. When we're outside walking, he has to touch the license plate of each and every car and identify it as a "cah." This means it can take upwards of 15 minutes to walk from our car to the entrance of Target. He woke us up this morning saying, "Cah!Cah!" from his crib because last night he received a generous donation from an 11-year-old friend of all his old Hot Wheels, and he knew they were waiting in the family room. Definitely a boy.

I bought him a Thomas the Tank Engine DVD because judging from the little boys I know, I figured it's just a matter of time before we're Thomas-obsessed too. What a mistake. Why didn't someone warn me about Thomas and his crowd? A bunch of moody train cars that don't even move their mouths when they speak! Sometimes their expression changes - that's it. The people in the story don't move either - they're those plastic fake people you see in train sets. This is the world of Thomas? At least the Teletubbies have arms and legs and actually DO something. Oh - and there are no voices. George Carlin tells the story and it seems, does all the voices, too. I have to switch back to Teletubbies or Playhouse Disney before I lapse into a coma. A's already got an intimate relationship with Thomas - he calls him "Tom" - so it's not going to be easy.

I Love You Too, Tree

Tried to teach A to say "I love you" this weekend.

Me: I...
A (yelling): You!
Me: Looovvve...
A (yelling): You!
Me: I love you too!
A: Two!! Tree! (Throws his arms around me)
He's probably not sure why we're counting, but I do know he loves me.

He also made me laugh this morning by bringing me a handful of TV/VCR/DVD remotes and saying, "wu-MOTE! wu-MOTE!" This kid knows what's important.

Mumble Mumble

I've been kind of interested in the way the Blogger ads change at the top of this page depending on what I write. For a while, they were for Wiggles merchandise, after I wrote about the Wiggles. Then for Coke products, after I mentioned Diet Coke. Then baby products. But now it's suggesting I have problems with dyslexia. Sheesh, everyone's a critic. Maybe when it sees the title of this one it'll suggest speech therapy.

Today was hot, so I tried to put sandals on the munchkin. To put them on, I had to take off the socks he slept in. He freaked. He didn't seem to mind his sandals so much as the fact that I took his socks off. A moment prior, he'd been happily eating his fake soy burger, and now tears were rolling down his face and he was gesturing wildly to the socks I'd so heartlessly removed. I asked, "You want the socks back on?" He cried, "Yeah!!" OK, fine, socks go back on, I don't care. But he had the same reaction when I took off his top to eat spaghetti - I figured, it was hot and spaghetti's messy, we're taking a bath after this anyway, might as well avoid tomato sauce stains on the shirt. "WAAAAHHH!" He grabbed the shirt and tried to cover himself with it. I thought babies liked to be naked. He is so darn modest. I don't know why - he's got an awfully cute little belly.

AI: Diana's growing on me, I must say. I missed what Simon said about John, but I take it that it was respectful. Jasmine, thank you for getting rid of the silly flower, but you didn't do well. I missed Latoya too because I was getting all the darn Costco stuff out of the trunk. I want them to get back to the Ford commercials 'cause that Subway one was just silly. Yeah, Fantasia's gonna dig working at Subway.

Toddler Recreation

Between Music Together classes, Wiggles tickets and new books, we've spent over $200 in the last month on entertainment for A. And here's what entertained him this morning:

Putting gravel, piece by piece, through the cyclone fence so that it would be inside the dog park instead of outside the dog park.

Walking through the parking lot touching every license plate asking, "Caw?" Every so often I'd try to throw him off by answering, "No, that's a duck." But he's no fool and gave me that sideways glance that says he's just barely tolerating my presence and would have preferred to be by himself but needed me to drive.

Walking up hill, sliding a bit, applauding when he got to the top, and then coming back down, sliding more.

Watching the dogs frolicking. I was glad he wasn't a bit older because some of their frolicking would have necessitated an early explanation of the birds and the bees.

Watching squirrels either play or fight. I wasn't sure which but they looked like they were wrestling, and I don't know if squirrels wrestle. Maybe they were just taking a cue from the dogs.

This, of course, was all free, if a tiny bit boring for Mom (really, only the Gravel Relocation Program was boring. The dogs were cute and the squirrels were funny).

Wiggles Analysis

We're going to see the Wiggles Live! in a few weeks. I think it's going to blow A's mind. "WTH? I KNEW there were real people inside that TV!" So, here is my take on a few of the Wiggle characters:

GregAnthonyJeffMurray: Undifferentiated Ego Mass. Although, don't you feel a little sorry for Jeff? He's so short and they don't really let him sing. No wonder he keeps falling asleep.

Henry the Octopus: The Entitled Bully. He's always ordering everyone around. "Shine, shine, shine my shoes! Rub some seaweed on my shoes!" Hey, Henry, with 8 arms you should be able to get one of them to work - do it yourself. And stop ordering that underground band around - those backup fish are going to become famous and leave you in the dust if you aren't nicer to them.

Dorothy the Dinosaur: The Co-Dependent Whiner. "Oooohhhh, the hat I made you got all wet!" I was hoping to win your affections by sucking up to you, Anthony. Because I think that's the only way I can make friends. Oh please, tell me I'm OK, over and over.

Wags the Dog: The Narcissist. But, I like Wags. C'est Bon, C'est Wags. You go, dog, do that tango.

Captain Feathersword: He's easy. The Delusional Manic. Oh, OK, you're a pirate. And people do dances with pompoms on your pirate ship. Riiiiight.

A. found his pacifier (God knows where) and handed it to me. I thought he was being so good because he knows he's only supposed to have his paci in bed. But then he walked over the sink and pointed to it. He wanted me to wash it off. Oh, OK, Suddenly-Afraid-of-Germs-Boy. Then he took it back and popped it in. So I said, "Hey, let's go put that back where it belongs." He immediately ran into the TV room and pointed to the TV - "ooohh! Oooh!" Like, "Look at Stanley! He's talking to his goldfish!" (Let me say here that "Stanley" is the show that holds A's interest the least. He's never shown any interest in it - until now). Nice try, bud.

G told me over the phone that he'd found this great chair at St. Vincent de Paul's thrift shop. He said it was sort of an academic chair, like professors use. It has some sort of Latin crest on the back. He's offering it to me to use at my computer, but he really wants it in our waiting room when we have our own offices. I don't think we've decided on the decor of the future waiting room, but apparently Dead Poet's Society is our inspiration.

My voice has gone from lifelong-smoker-sexy to barely a squeak, and A. threw up in the grocery store much to the consternation of the lady handing out free samples (he threw up right after trying one of her free pieces of roast beef - then looked up and said, "More?" Didn't phase him a bit but he made some of the other shoppers gag). G was feeling left out so he's sick too. We had to wash A's sheets because he threw up last night, and so he was napping with us today in our bed, which reminded me why we don't co-sleep. A. seems to think that the only comfortable spot in the bed is the one which I occupy. At one point he had his head on my neck and his feet on G's chest. That's not going to go over so well with your future wife, darlin'. 'Course, I put up with G's nocturnal chats, so I guess love conquers all.

Hiding My Kid's Books

Am I the only mother who hides her child's books so she doesn't have to read certain ones?

A. has this alphabet book that was cute at first. For the letter "A" there's a picture of an apple, but then you lower the flap and it becomes an angel. Every letter has a picture of something that becomes something else. Some are uninspired - Star and Starfish. Some are clever - an Ice Cream Cone turns into an Iguana. Yeah, the first 50 times, maybe. But the alphabet is only so interesting - this book ends with numbers, but I say "The END!!!" before we get there and so far A. hasn't noticed. But now it is somehow shoved under A.'s crib.

"Snowman's Party" bugs me too - it's a very short pop-up one that A. loves. Maybe it's because Santa's head got torn off along with Snowman's arm long ago and I think it's macabre. Here's Santa getting some new socks and he doesn't even have a head. I suppose the Snowman's fate is even worse - in horrible irony, he gets new mittens.

Rainbow Fish is OK, especially since we got the abridged version (I always end it with, "..and the moral is, you can buy your friends.")

Went to John Kerry's rally at the Teamsters last week. We were very very lucky - it was a huge crowd in line and a campaign worker came by and pulled all the families with babies and let us in! I'd say about an eighth of the whole crowd got in. The rest were outside fogging up the windows as they tried to see him. WTG, Aidan! I knew we had him for a reason. The bummer, though, was that my digital camera was still fried and I didn't get any photos - we were about 20 people away from him. All I could think about was what a great scrapbook page it would have made for A's 2nd year.

Swim lessons went better this morning. A. complained a little at first, but I found a dolphin that squirts water and that was hecka fun. He had a death grip on me the entire time, although the water barely comes up to his belly if he stands up. Curiously, he enjoys the big pool much better than the little pool. I guess he knows I won't let go of him in the big pool. He actually kicked a little, and got all googly-eyed at our teenage instructor when she complemented him on his form.

My subconscious mind is driven by:


Okay. I'll buy that. I also have a 131 IQ, which seems to have gone down. When I was tested in high school, I distinctly remember testing at 145. Doesn't surprise me. The whole Ph.D. thing made me way stupider.

Test Yourself Here.

Reality Show Update:

The Apprentice: FINALLY!! Geez, Donald, took you long enough. Nothing against Omarosa - in a particular type of setting, she'd do fine. She's smart, but she's not very good with people.

Survivor: Hate to be a cynic, but at first I really thought Sue was thinking, "Hey, no one here's gonna let me win a million dollars; but I can use this as a ticket to some food and a hot shower, and get paid to boot!" After watching her on CBS whatever-that-show-is with Harry Smith, I decided differently. However, I suspect she has some abuse in her past to be so brutalized by Dickie's dick. More Lex this week - yee haw!

Eden: Yawn. A reality show with no end and no one understands what the game is? This is just a reworked Paradise Hotel. Boring young beautiful people, lots to drink, and a green apple. Yippee.

Food update: I'm at my heaviest weight ever (besides the last trimester, and even then I'm a bit too close to that weight for comfort). I think I have to go low carb. I hate to give up my corn flakes and toast, but something's gotta change. My belly is hanging so low it's hard to shave before swim classes. That's just not right. And besides, if we're gonna go for Lil Uechedo #2 this year, I'd like to start off not looking pregnant already.

Aidan can put away groceries. This is a marvelous revelation. All we have to do is leave the groceries outside the front door, and he will take it upon himself ("what, you guys don't know where the canned fruit goes??") to put them away. One at a time, he'll pick a can out of the bag (canned peaches are most important because they're the best), lift it up onto the step, crawl up the step himself, bend down to pick up can with both hands, walk to the cabinet, put the can down, open the cabinet door, bend down to pick the can up, put can on lowest shelf, close door, walk to doorway, hang onto doorjam, lower self to step, start all over again. It's very mindful and Zen-baby of him. I always said he was a Zen baby.

Today at St. Martyr's, every person in the building had ashes on their forehead except me. Yeah, I skipped mass. Sue me. I was kind of afraid the Rapture would happen then and there and Jesus would know who to keep and who to toss by the ash on their forehead, and I'd be out of luck. The priest who did it at this mass also does a really good cross on the forehead, not just a smudge. The big scandal today was that the hot lunch lady planned burgers for today. Couldn't she have planned pizza instead? I bet she would have if she knew the uproar her meat patties were going to cause. I'm giving up chocolate, except that I forgot and had a banana-chocolate energy bar. But I don't think that counts because it's not REAL chocolate. Not like my beloved Nestle Treasures, which I finished last night in preparation for Lent. I'm going to treat myself to those and a bunch of Cadbury Creme Eggs (Yes! My favorite part of Spring!) when Easter's here.

We have entered the terrible twos at 18 months. I've heard that's normal. Aidan has learned the magical word "no." Not just "no," but "nnnooooooooo!" with a whine that suggests I've just told him his father and I are leaving him forever. He also says "yeah!" with such enthusiasm that you'd think we've just told him it's ice cream for dinner from here on out.

What I'm thinking about tonight: What exact threat to marriage and family exists if we allow gay couples to marry? Are the conservatives afraid that straights will suddenly *stop* getting married? And why does the government get to decide that, anyway? If it's a religious issue, then deal with it in church. On Larry King tonight some blonde legislature kept asking Gavin Newsom "What about polygamy? Where does it end?" I suppose we could come back with, "And what about legislating our bookshelves? Are you going to insist we all own and read the King James Version? Where does it end?" Grrrr.

And what's the exact problem with Janet Jackson showing her boob? Why is that soooo much more offensive than the violence of men tackling each other for fun? (FTR, I do like football). I wish people would be as offended by all the commercials targeting our children and all the violence on prime time. I'd much rather Aidan see a boob than see all the gunfighting. Heck, he sees mine all the time (my boob, not my gunfighting). Also, it was pretty obvious to anyone who saw it any of the 10,000 times they showed it that she was surprised afterward and tried to cover up. I believe that that lace thing was supposed to stay on.

:::Off the soapbox::::

Aidan had his first big owie this week. Took a tumble and knocked into the sharp corner of a chair leg. It looked much worse than it does now, honestly. It took 2 hours to see a doctor, and by that time I felt pretty foolish, but I'd already paid my $25 for him to say, "Yep, he's fine." I missed my mom's group dinner, so I sent G out for a bottle of red wine, which I desperately needed by that point.

Bonus:

Reality Show Update:
American Idol tonight! Hope it's better than last week. Update: Yeah - better. Trying to get the rugrat down so I missed the first two. Jon Peter fascinates me, although I don't think he's great. I'd like to see him advance just because he's interesting to watch, sort of like Clay was in the early auditions. Go LaToya - way to represent Oaktown! She was good, but I didn't think she was the best they'd ever seen, so I was a bit surprised by the judges reactions.


Littlest Groom: Good for him for picking the little woman, but really, it was kind of obvious who he had more in common with.


My BFOF: AWESOME finale. I was ready to go live with that family by the end of it (minus Randi). I loved the way the mom just got up and calmly walked out. She didn't even yell at Steve, she just said, "That's fine, Steve, you can tell them." Now there's a mom who doesn't need to yell - but when she's pissed, you know it. I also loved the way the family made the producers beg them to come back. Way to rise above it! Too bad about that money-grubbing middle child, though.

Survivor: Best season ever, though I'm sad to see Rob C go. I think he'd have been at his best after a merge and he never got a chance to do some good scheming. I've heard rumors about who's in the finale and I will be a bit disappointed if it's true. We'll see. Still love "Pretty Boy" Ethan. Also like Lex. Would probably marry Lex if he were single and if I hadn't already gotten my first choice of husband (added that in for G). He guests as a DJ at a local radio station when he's not surviving on a desert island, and he's pretty funny. Beginning to think Rupert might have some delusional system going. Digging down into the sand? Even I know that's a bad idea. Jerri's much more tolerable this time. Jenna's not. Richard's great - loved that he bit the shark back. Oh yeah, and that Tylenol "Push through the Pain" award - great idea. Gotta give it to Goat Farmer Tom this time. Ouch.

Here're the new fishies...Thursday and Friday. Friday's camera shy.

Well, Seattle was fun...what I saw of it, anyway. I got sick with whatever Aidan had on Saturday, so I spent the day in the hotel bed. Fortunately, it was a really nice bed. Thank you to my sister for securing an apartment-size hotel room. Then poor Greg got it on Sunday. I think we all had strep, because the sore throat and fever were the main symptoms. We also had this weird rash, which apparently was scarlet fever. Isn't that what made Mary blind on Little House on the Prarie? "Didja hear about the Lunasea's? They got that scarlet fever over at their house!" We're all fine now.

G and his friend T held a baby shower today for their friend D. T's wife and I helped, but really they planned it all. I'm realizing that's kind of unusual - guys holding a baby shower. G made Betty Clarizio's famous pizza (from his grade school days) and it was quite good even though I usually don't like homemade pizza. It's kind of like homemade chinese food - just not quite as good as takeout. But his was pretty darn good.

A's current words: "TeeVeeeee"; "Pretty": said about anything outside that he likes; "Yeah": a general affirmative answer, as in "Can you say please?" "Yeah." He needs to get his hair cut again, but I'm not sure I'm going to go the homemade route again.

So. We are now the proud parents of a full-fledged toddler. He now sees walking as the preferred method of locomotion, and for some reason being upright has instilled in him a new sense of independence. He is the master of his own destiny. Gone are the days when he'd crawl around the family room playing with his toys and occassionally the TV remote. He needs to unplug everything in the house. His sense of style is offended by the candles by the fireplace, so they need to be lined up on the carpet. He's also yelling alot. Not unhappily, just sort of a "I am Toddler, Hear Me Roar" kind of thing. Oh, and his favorite word is "TV." We're so proud.