I Miss Blogging

I miss blogging, so I'm going to give it another shot, now that life has settled into a pattern of near normalcy.

The Beast, so adorably featured in my last post so, so, so long ago, is now a Beastly 3 year old.  He's not large for his age, but still freakishly strong.  Wiggle Man is in 2nd grade, which seems terribly old to me, and much to close to an age where he will no longer tolerate being called Wiggle Man.  I suspect, at times, he's already there.

Since I last blogged, our family has experienced joys and pain, love and loss.  I've been to Africa and back again.  I started a Master's in Ethnomusicology, a field which will let me combine my love of music with my love for Kenya, travel, research, writing, and languages.  I'm kicking myself for not realizing it sooner, but God's timing has always been best thus far in my life.

And now, since my last post featured some Beast-isms, I hereby present: a conversation with Wiggle Man.  The following was likely intended to drive me insane before 8 am.

Me:  Honey, don't forget to turn in your lunch money.

Wiggle Man: Mom, did you pack a snack for morning recess?

Me:  Nope, we're just about out of snacks.  (Really need to get to the grocery store today.)

WM: Can I have a Little Debbie?

Me:  Um, NO.  That's not really a fabulous morning snack.  Grab a Go-gurt.

WM:  We're out of Go-gurts.  (Of course we are.)  I want a Little Debbie.

Me: Well, how about some fruit snacks?  (At this point, Wiggle Man is walking down the driveway, apparently deaf to my voice, as he makes no indication he has heard this question, even after several repetitions.  I follow him out to the car, still wearing my jammies, like the crazy Mom I am.)

WM:  I know what snack I want!  (Starts to head back inside.)  How about a Little Debbie Bat Brownie?

At this point, it was all I could do to kiss his head and tell him to get in the car.

Kisses,

I Know, I Know...

I'm posting.  I know.  Whoa.  It's been so long, probably no one will see it, because who checks here anymore?  But, I wanted to keep record of some of the cute things the baby says.  He hasn't developed a nickname yet quite like Wiggle Man did, so here I shall call him The Beast.  I toyed with Bam Bam while I was pregnant with him, because I sensed his super strength, and let me tell you--he's a beast.

Anywhoo....I present you with some Beast-isms.

"Weawwy?"  Really?  Apparently, I say this a lot.

"AwwwRIGHT!"  Again, didn't realise how often I said that until The Beast started copying me.

"Sheeewww?"  Shoe is always a question.  Unlike most babies, The Beast hasn't learned many body/face parts yet, (except eyes, and "Um!" for mouth), but he's all about pants, socks, shoes and shirts.  The problem with "shirt" is that he leaves out the 'r.'

"Ewww."  The other body part The Beast knows.  As near as I can figure, he calls it "ewww" because I'm usually saying "ewwww" to all the food he puts in his hair.

"Off.  Off.  Off.  Off."  The Beast likes to turn things off.  Especially if he gets to press a...

"Bunn!"  Button.  Beast loves him some buttons.

Combine a cup (another favourite) with a lid that has those little buttons to push down (like from fast food places) and The Beast is in heaven.

But, c'mon.  How can you resist that cheesy grin?

I can't.

Kisses,

My Pinteresting Addiction

I love Pinterest.

I love seeing what other people are making, and getting ideas.

I love it even more when Pinterest shows me something so shockingly simple, but darling.


Like......

Seriously; how cute ARE these?  Teeny tiny cupcake toppers.  Made of Reese's minis, then decorated to match the cupcakes.

Then you just plop these little gems on top of your frosted cupcakes, and, voila!  (Or, "wahla" as Wiggle Man says, no matter how many times I explain the French to him.)

These are Wiggle Man's birthday cupcakes for school.  Yes, he is sampling one before his birthday.  Shhh....don't tell.

I let him eat the one that didn't get frosted properly.  :)

I'm Wiggle Man, and I approve this cupcake.

Kisses,

Ahh....Fall

I love fall.  Fall has been good to The Rev and His Missus.  Our family acquired this:

We tried it out locally this weekend for the first time.  There were some ups and downs.  Campfires are definitely ups.  Taking the baby home in the middle of the night because he woke up and screamed for an hour was definitely a down. 

Here the boys are exploring  Chicken Nugget's "crib."  We had to get a little creative, but it worked.  Well, it worked in that he fell asleep ok, but kept waking up at around 3 am in a rage that would not be calmed.  Hence me driving him home.  

Interestingly enough, our sleepy town is not as sleepy as you'd imagine at 4 am.

Anyway, it was a lot of work, we learned some things to do differently, and now we are "campers."  Woot.


We also celebrated The Rev's birthday, and I officially have a new favourite cake.  This is a pumpkin spice cake with a....wait for it.....wait for it.....salted caramel cream cheese frosting.  I know.  My blood sugar spiked just typing that.

 In other news, Wiggle Man started Kindergarten this year.  I can't believe he's big enough for "big boy" school.  Also, note the little brother photo bombing big bro's photo shoot.  Classic.

Finally, both my boys have birthdays coming up.  We're throwing one big party this weekend, so I made myself a schedule.  I won't tell you exactly how I'll be using these fondant colours on their birthday cakes, but there they are.

Kisses,

Ten

Ten.  Chicken Nugget is now ten months old.  Among other things, I'm starting to feel the need to plan a birthday party.  A birthday party that will be for TWO boys, this year.  (Wiggle Man and Nugget's birthdays are nine days apart, so I'm totally planning the double birthday party for as many years as the boys will let me get away with it.)

But, before I get ahead of myself, here's a message to my little man:

Chicken Nugget,

You are ten months old.

You've brought joy, sleeplessness, love, amazement, poop, frustration, and more love to our family.

You eat blueberries as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

You eat Cheerios as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

You eat bananas as fast as your tiny hands can shove them into your mouth.

If it's food (or even if it's not) you eat it as fast as your tiny hands can shove it into your mouth.  Once, I caught you trying to eat a stinkbug.

You love your big brother so much it squeezes my heart.

You're a Daddy's boy, and I love that, too.  (Cuz sometimes I get to pee alone that way.)

You totally have the old man look going with your hair.

You cock one eyebrow at me sometimes as if you know something I don't.

You dance like me.  Not very suave, but a lot of head bobbing.

You are super strong for a baby.  Perhaps we should be calling you Clark Kent.

You blow raspberries, and it makes you laugh as much as it does us.

You do not like me cheering loudly at the television.  Or being told, "No."  But I can tell when you're fake crying.

I love you more than I could have imagined.

Kisses,

Immunity

Today I changed a diaper that if life were fair would automatically grant me immunity from ever changing a diaper again.  I think I used half a tub of wipes.  Chicken Nugget managed to stick his foot in it, and insisted on arching his back the entire diaper change.

I don't think the Rev will sign on for that, though.

Kisses,

Growing Boys

Look at this guy.  He's all done pre-school.  (Sniff, sniff).  He'll start KINDERGARTEN, people.  Kindergarten.  I can't get my brain around that.  I expect I'll come to terms with his being in kindergarten around the time he graduates high school.

That picture, as you can clearly read in the background (I'd be an awful spy, or member of the witness relocation program) was taken at Dutch Wonderland, which we hit up while on a visit to New Jersey.  Wiggles got to decorate his own cookie.  (And he only licked one of the communal icing spreaders.)

Then there's this big man:

Yes, he's pulling himself up!  He crawls, ladies and gentlemen, but apparently that's not enough for him.  No, in order to keep up with Big Brother, he must walk, or preferably, run.

Oh, and did I mention he's talking?  Granted, most of it's babbling, but we've got one word that has a definite meaning:  "Bwa."  Sometimes, "Bwa-bwa."  It's brother, my friends.  Chicken nugget will ask for Big Brother by name.  This morning, he looked at Wiggles, said, "Bwa,", and then proceeded to make raspberries (one of his favourite things to have Wiggle Man do).

We've had a crazy couple of weeks around here, with trips and sick babies and sick kids, but maybe, just maybe, we can settle into normal for a while.  I've gone back to running, which I missed, but running brings with it the scheduling I have not missed.  Trying to find time for the Rev to be home when it's not dark out, or the heat of the day is hard.  I think I'm going to get some reflectors, or some blinkie lights so I'll be able to run in the dark.  The more I think about it, the  more I like that.  It's cooler out, and no one has to get a good visual of me huffing and puffing out there.

So, that's life around here lately.

Kisses,

Chicken Nugget

Chicken Nugget is 8 months old now.

He combat crawls with lightning speed.

He's already my little trouble maker, trying to see how many forbidden things he can cram into his mouth.

He still seems to have dairy issues, as I learned after I tried some yogurt melts with him.  And had reaffirmed after I mistakenly gave him lasagna...I forgot it had cheese in it.  Poor boy.

With the 2nd top tooth now through, Chicken Nugget officially has 4 teeth.

He loves big brother; no one makes him laugh quite like WM does. Even yesterday, in the grip of a fever (induced by the teething, I think...I hope...) he still giggled at WM's antics.

Blessings, by Laura Story, still calms him down when nothing else will.  In fact, it's playing right now while he naps.

And, while we wish he slept longer at night (le sigh), we're loving life with two sweet boys.

Here are my boys at (roughly) the same age:  (7, 8ish months.)

Chicken Nugget:

Wiggle Man:

Mudder's Day

Tomorrow is Mother's Day. "Mudder's Day", as Wiggle Man calls it. 

Except now I can't call him Wiggle Man.  He asked us, in a very big kid sort of way, if we could stop calling him that.  Le sigh.  So, we call him by his proper name now, and here, well, I guess I'll refer to him as W. 

Chicken Nugget is growing like crazy.  While he's average for weight, he's 80th percentile for height.  This means his onesies are super baggy around the middle, but barely button at the bottom.  Clearly, Mr. Tall and Lanky did not inherit my figure. 

He's also teething.  Again.  So between that and the constant growth spurts (are they spurts if it's all the time?) he's not really sleeping.  No, ladies and gentlemen, my baby who starting sleeping 8 hour stretches at 4 months is now waking every 3 hours.  And has been for almost 2 months.  If you see me with an eye twitch and glazed look, now you know why.

In the midst of the crazy, there's a card on the mantle.  W couldn't wait until tomorrow to give me the card he made in school.  There are thumbprint lady bugs, and fingerprint bees fly above foam sticker flowers and green marker grass. 

I think I'm going to frame it.

Mudderhood.  It's messy and joyful, heartbreaking and silly.  It makes me feel like a giant failure, and like the queen of the world. 
Happy Mother's Day,

Not Awesome

I'm sitting here waiting to see if Chicken Nugget is actually going to nap or not.   I gently laid him in his crib, drowsy but awake as per all the expert's suggestions.  Now we wait.  And I'm certainly not going to start anything productive until I know he's actually asleep.

So I thought I'd make you a list.  A list of things that are Not Awesome.  So here it is:

Things That Are Not Awesome:

Finding one of those hairy little spiders that look like teeny tarantulas in the car.

Losing him before you can squish him.

When your 4 year old walks in just as you've put the baby in the crib and loudly asks, "Whatcha doin', Mama?"

The face I make as I shoo him from the room.

Buying pj's for your 4 year-old's pajama day at school, because said 4 year-old only sleeps in his underwear.

Finding Scooby Doo jammies, only to find that the smallest size at Target is two sizes too big.

Buying them anyway.

Paying $17 for jammies that will, in all likelihood, get worn once.

Baby spit up.

Socks. 

Baby socks that never fit, but are darn cute anyway.

The fact that as soon as I finish this list and start doing something, Chicken Nugget will wake up. 

Kisses,

Little Comedian

Let me tell you--Wiggle Man has been on fire this week.  Just now, I picked him up to give him a kiss, and he informed me, "You smell like oven."  (Awesome.)

I asked him what he learned in Sunday School this week.  He told me his teacher taught him about clouds and storms, and that Jesus would protect him from "storms, and ghost-es and haunted houses."  (You should know at this point his favourite book right now is Scooby Doo and the Haunted House.)

So I said, "That's why we don't need to be afraid of those things, right?"
Wiggles:  "Nope.  But I don't think Shaggy and Scooby know that."

Me:  "Well, someone should tell them."

Wiggles:  "Maybe Fred."

Earlier this week, he asked me about breastfeeding.  Pointing to my chest, he asked, "Mama, did I sip out of those when I was a baby?"

Me:  "Yes, for a couple of weeks, and then you drank bottles."

Wiggles:  "Did Chicken Nugget sip out of those?"

Me:  "For a couple of days, and then he got bottles, too.

Wiggles:  "Oh.  Do you make chocolate milk?"

No, Wiggle Man.  Mama has enough trouble making regular milk with these things, let alone specialty varieties. 


Kisses,

Life With 2 Boys

I'm slowly adjusting to my new life as mommy to 2 boys.  Granted, one of them does a lot of sleeping, and the other has learned to, you know, poop in the potty and stuff, but still.  Mama to 2 of the little stinkers. 

Most of the time, they manage to make me laugh.  So what if that laughter occasionally verges on the maniacal, and I'm telling Wiggle Man that he may have to come visit me in the Asylum. 

Wiggles is at that lovely point in life where he knows enough about certain of life's, um, more delicate procedures, but not enough to understand when and where to talk about them.  For instance, a hushed furniture store is not the place to happily prance out of the restroom and loudly annouce, "Mama, I just made a GIANT poop!"  (Complete with hand gestures approximating size of said poop.)

Wiggle Man is convinced that the Rev's sinus issues have to do with rogue beard hair that has traveled up his Daddy's nose.  I'm not sure if he thinks the hair has grown upwards, or if it traveled there post-shave. 

Then there are his Wiggle-isms. 

"Mama, I want to eat with chomp-sticks, so I can be like Kai-lan."  (Thanks, Nick Jr. for your foray into multi-culturalism.)

"Don't leave fer-out me!"  (Oh, Wiggles.  We'd never leave home ferout you.)

"My day is RUINED!"  (He's a bit of a diva, what can I say.)

"Police la-di-da."  (Feliz Navidad, judging by the tune.) 

His baby brother, whose nickname we are still debating, has his share of humour, as well.  Cranky Man, as the Rev seems to think he should be called, causes fits of laughter every time he sticks out his sad, sad little lower lip to cry. 

Chicken Nugget, as I like to call him, still has a slightly odd shaped head.  I can't remember if that's normal still at 3 months, or due to the torticollis.  Regardless, it makes him look a little like a cartoonish evil genius.  So when he gets really angry (like, say, his bottle is 2.56 seconds later than he'd prefer) his face gets all red and he shakes with tiny, tiny rage, I keep waiting for him to shout, "Curse you, Perry the Platypus" or something like that.

Anyway, that's my life these days. Diapers, preschool, bottles, stories, and occasionally, to curl up on a chair with Wiggles and a Cranky Chicken Nugget, and have a bit of a nap. 

Police La-di-da, and Happy New Year, y'all. 

Kisses,

Good News/Bad News

It's been a while since I've done one of these posts, but I thought it might be fun to bring it back, so here goes:

The Good News is that Wiggle Man is feeling better after a weekend long cold, and is actually eating normally.
The Bad News is that eating normally right now includes informing me that the mac n' cheese I made him for lunch "tastes disgusting."  I then attempted to add some shredded cheese to it for him, but was told that I had "scrunched up" the cheese. 

The Good News is that Bam Bam has a new nickname.  While he's as strong now as he was in the womb, he's so laid back that Bam Bam doesn't seem to suit him.
The Bad News (for him) is that I've taken to calling him Chicken Nugget.  I'm sure he'll love that in about 10 years.

The Good News is that the humongaloid spider in Wiggle Man's room this morning was not, in fact, a Brown Recluse as I suspected, and that the Rev graciously, and without mocking me, removed it for me.
The Bad News is that there was a honking humongaloid spider in Wiggle Man's room when I woke him up this morning.  UCK.  (*Cue extensive shuddering*)

The Good News is that Chicken Nugget is perfectly content to sleep through his big brother's temper tantrums.
The Bad News is his big brother's temper tantrums.  I am not as adept at blissfully ignoring them.

The Good News is that I can zipper and button my "big" pre-pregnancy jeans, and zipper and almost button (using the good ol' hair elastic trick) my "tiny" pre-pregnancy jeans.
The Bad News is there is a serious case of muffin top in both instances.  Also, I'm trying not to get too optimistic, since the first couple of weeks after Wiggle Man was born I was almost back to my pre-pregnancy weight.  Then things got very, very scary.
The Good News about that is that my midwife thinks she knows why my body did that, and what we can do to prevent it this time around.  Here's hoping.

The Good News is that I love banana bread, and made a pretty awesome healthified version of it last week.  Whole wheat flour, applesauce instead of oil--next time I may even throw in some flax seed.
The Bad News is that I cannot imagine banana bread without chocolate chips.  And I may have consumed the entire loaf myself over the course of the weekend.  There's nothing wrong with banana bread for dinner, right?  (Before any cyber-detectives jump on this--yes, I know eating tons of banana bread and popcorn is not likely to prevent the scary weight gain from recurring.  I promise, I usually eat very well; my calorie intake is not the cause.)

The Good News is that Chicken Nugget slept long enough for me to eat lunch, and type this post. 
The Bad News is that I have to now wake a sleeping baby to feed him...and waking a sleeping baby's never good.

Kisses,

He's Here!

Bam Bam has made his appearance!

On Friday morning, I went for my regular 38 week appointment.  At my 37 week appointment, I was 4 cm dilated.  Before she checked me on Friday, my midwife wanted to know how I'd feel about stripping my membranes if I was 5 cm dilated.  Then she checked me and said, "Uh....how about if you're 7?!?"

Yep, I was walking around town 7 cm dilated. 

We decided the best thing was for me to go home, get my things together, pick Wiggle Man up from school and get him settled at his friend's house, then the Rev and I would head to the hospital.  Once we were at the hospital, I wanted to see if I could get some stronger contractions going without resorting to pictocin.  I had pitocin with Wiggle Man, and that plus having my water broken equaled some sudden, painful contractions.

So this time around, I walked.  I walked around and around and around the floor.  I sat on a birthing ball.  I sat in the jacuzzi tub.  I walked more.  I sat on the ball more.  And after 4 hours I'd made it all the way to 8 cm.  I know.

So we started the pitocin.  At this point, my water still hadn't broken, but the contractions were picking up.   The Rev made a great labour coach, by the way.  He was fabulous, and I couldn't have done it without him.

Eventually, we realized I wasn't getting past 8-9 cm without my water breaking, so the midwife did that.  Since I have already scarred friends of mine with a detailed account of that, I will save you the visual.  But it would have made a great scene from one of those teen comedy movies, I assure you.

The very next contraction I was ready to push, and about half an hour later, Bam Bam joined our family on "the outside."  The put him on my chest while they cleaned him up, and the midwife waited until the umbilical cord stopped pulsing before she cut it. 

I remember when Wiggle Man was born it was hard to feel anything beyond the relief that I had done it; I had actually delivered this baby.   This time was more emotional for me.  I think knowing how much love I have for Wiggle Man helped me feel that maternal swell of love for Bam Bam right away.  Although, I will admit that some of my first words to Bam Bam were "Thank you for coming out!"

Wiggle Man is so gentle with his little brother, it makes my heart melt.  He gives him tiny kisses on his forehead, and strokes his dark hair.  When Wiggle Man came to the hospital to meet his baby brother, Bam Bam turned to look at him as if to say, "Oh, I know you."   It was darling.   I'm still waiting for the sibling jealousy to kick in.  I'm sure it will, but for now I'm loving every second of my two boys.  And my big one. 

Speaking of Bam Bam, I think he needs a different nickname.  While he certainly was strong and active in the womb, his personality so far on the outside is very laid back.  At the risk of jinxing everything by saying this, he's a really calm baby.  It's a little unnerving.

Kisses,

This Week

Well, I'm still pregnant.

Which is good, really.  Today is the 36 week mark; when I go to my appointment tomorrow I find out if I am allowed off the couch this week, or next week. 

Things have been quiet around here, for the most part.  I hang out on the couch, I crochet, I read, I check my email more times a day than is good for anyone's sanity, and try and keep Wiggle Man occupied.

We have been super blessed by a church family who is taking wonderful care of us. 

Oh, and I try not to eat everything in the house.  Like, this afternoon I had a cheese stick, a pudding cup, and some popcorn.  And I'm seriously considering a bowl of mashed potatoes covered in cheese.  For some reason, the last month of pregnancy for me is always a killer.  I do great with my weight until that last month, when I no longer crave fruits and veggies, but carbs, carbs and more carbs.

In other news:

This big guy had his first day of school today:

He was sooooooooo excited to go to school.  The Rev and I were sooooooooooo excited to have him go.  He's been in need of some routine and some time out of the house.  When he came home, we made a craft for each set of grandparents.  He's been adamant we need to make them something for Grandparent's day, which according to the Sprout channel is coming up.  (Sorry Mom and Dad--I didn't know!)   I'd show you a picture of our craft, but I'd spoil the surprise for Grandma and Poppa, and Grammy and Pop Pop when they get their presents.

Plus, Wiggle Man wrote his name on a piece of paper that was actually legible.  Whoa.

Kisses,

What a Week!

Well, this week has certainly been a surprise.

A little background--when I was pregnant with Wiggle Man, he came right on his due date, and I felt very little in terms of contractions. (Lucky, I know.) Basically, from the first contraction I felt until the time Wiggles was born was about 3.5 hours.

So when I started feeling crampy this past Sunday night, I honestly thought it was just something I'd eaten. When it didn't go away, I called the midwife Monday morning. I got an appointment Monday afternoon, and honestly expected to be told it was nothing and sent home.

I wasn't expecting to be sent to the hospital, stabilized and then transferred to a university hospital with a NICU. It was...chaotic, to say the least. Also a little humourous, given that I'd driven myself to the midwife's, then driven myself across the street to the hospital, walked up to the L&D floor, where I was whisked into bed and told not to move. (Ummm...I DROVE HERE.)

The good news is that I'm still pregnant. They were able to stop my contractions and the progression of my labour. They gave me steroid shots to help Bam Bam's lungs should he decide to show up early. Then they monitored baby and me for a couple of days, and sent me home.

Now, we wait to see what Bam Bam has in mind. I've been told to take it easy. Beyond that, we're not sure what will happen when.

I will say this--it's new motivation to get that nursery done! (I'll be supervising, of course.)

Kisses,

Shameless Self Promotion

Depending on what part of the country you live in, you may be either a) kicking into high gear for school or b) counting down until your kids go back to school/you go back to teaching.

This means that private music teachers like myself start thinking about recruiting new students, and gearing up for another year of lessons, festivals, and recitals. Until recently, most of my attempts at self-promotion have been local. After all, it's hard to take lessons from someone on the other side of the country.

Except when it's easy.

Last year I started a website for my new online studio, Studio 10:10. If you haven't checked it out yet, please do so. If you have, feel free to check it out again, and let me know what you think. While it's primarily set up as a flute studio, I'm considering expanding my online studio to include piano and voice, like I do in my home studio.

How does it work? It's actually very easy. As long as you have an Internet connection and a web cam, you can take lessons from anywhere. I've even given lessons to students on vacation!

I use Skype (a free service, if you're not familiar with it) to set up a video call with a student, and the rest progresses like any other lesson. The sound quality is usually great, although it may be affected by the quality of the student's equipment. In situations like that, there are usually simple remedies, like purchasing a separate microphone, or sometimes even moving the laptop to the other side of the room!

Now, here's a pretty screenshot of my website.

Oooh. Ahhhhh.

The actual address is http://www.cyberflutelessons.com/ and like I said, I'd love for you to check it out and pass along any feedback you might have. If you have friends or colleagues that are looking for music instruction from a qualified teacher without the high pressure atmosphere, please let them know about my studio.

My online music studio is also listed on Thumbtack, a great place to find contractors and other service providers.

Ok, commercial over. Now back to our regularly scheduled content of pregnancy updates, life with a toddler, and my latest attempts at crocheting.

Kisses,

What's Up, Buttercup?

Not much, actually.

Bam Bam continues to beat the stink out of me from the inside. At this point, I'm starting to believe he will give Wiggle Man a run for his money when it comes to how active he'll be once he's "on the outside." He seems to be doing well, I'm doing well, the midwives are all happy--8 weeks to go!

The only downside right now is that while I don't have Gestational Diabetes (phew) I am "carbohydrate intolerant." Boo. I was with Wiggle Man, too. One of the midwives actually suspects that I remain this way for longer post-partum than most women, and that this was the cause of my ridiculous (and hitherto unexplained) weight gain after Wiggles was born. I was counting calories and dieting post-partum, but not carbs. Ooooooohhhhhh.

Many of the other symptoms of carbohydrate intolerance/insulin resistance are things you might typically expect post-partum, like fatigue, irritability and mood swings. It's like a giant light bulb has gone off. I'm bummed to have to watch my carb intake (I do love bread), but I'm also kind of glad to finally have a possible explanation.

I was super blessed to have two baby showers last week. The first I knew about--the members of our church choir, bell choir and their families got together for a fun cook-out and baby shower. They did a great job of making Wiggle Man an important part of things; he had a ball helping me open gifts.

My friends surprised me with another shower later in the week, and even arranged for some surprise guests! The Rev's sisters, Mom and Aunt drove down for the occasion. This baby is set, let me tell you.

Now all we need to do is get everything ready. The Rev has been working hard painting Wiggle Man's new room. Once we get him moved into his new digs, we can start on the nursery for Bam Bam. I've been sorting toys and clothes (man, we have a lot of 2T and 3T clothes) and trying to do what I can that doesn't involve inhaling lots of paint fumes.

My current crochet project is a blanket for Wiggle Man. He thinks I've done enough hats and booties for his brother, and that it's time for a blanket for him. 2 squares done, 7 more to go--I'll get a photo up when it's done.

And now you're caught up to speed!

Kisses,

Hats!

I fell in love with this little hat the first time I saw the pattern. It's not exactly practical wear for a newborn, but I think it will make for some cute pictures when Jumping Bean makes his appearance:

The elf hat pattern can be found here. When I made it, Wiggle Man asked what kind of hat it was. I told him it was a baby elf hat. His response? "The baby is gonna be an ELF?" Oops.




Here's a better shot of the pumpkin hat I made from this pattern here:

And here are Jumping Bean's hats together:

I love teeny tiny baby hats. This little one is going to have a well covered head, me thinks. And lest you think Wiggle Man has been left out, he insisted on having a hat made as well. However, you're not likely to see a picture of that here.

Do you know what happens when you let a 3 year old pick out his own yarn at the store? You end up making a hat out of the most hideous orange yarn ever. And assuming you will have some yarn in your basket to add stripes to the hat that will match the hideous orange yarn is a baaaaaad assumption to make.

Kisses,

Wiggle-isms

June! It's June! June means summer, and summer means days at the lake, at the pool, and running through the sprinkler. (Wiggle Man, not me. No one needs to see my pregnant self frolicking through a sprinkler.)

I'm still working on a nickname for Little Bean...these days he's more like a Jumping Bean. He's not so little any more, and he bounces around like crazy. This weekend I forgot to order my new favourite frozen coffee cup o' happiness as decaf; let's just say the whole ride home I was treated to fetal jumping jacks. Me thinks he likey. (Mental note: always stay within the recommended caffeine intake for the day.)

Here are some Wiggle-isms for your reading pleasure.

"I'm STAHVIN'" (Not funny, but if I have to hear it every day, you should have to hear it once.)

"Mama, when I woke up, der were sun fuzzies all over my room. I blowed dem away."

"Dis is gonna take FOWEVAH." (Said anytime I'm asking him to do something cruel and unusual, like go to the potty.)

"Mama, can I play wif EVERYONE?" This is a seemingly innocent question, seeing as "his girls" had just come over to play. Naturally I answered, 'yes.' It did not occur to me that "everyone" would include the 15 month old I was babysitting, who still had an hour and a half to go on his nap. Wiggles and "his girls" were in the room the baby was napping in before I even realised where they were headed.

When asked how he got the giant scrape on his nose: "I went to jump on da pillows, and didn't see da floor der." (Floors can be sneaky like that.)

"Can I play wif da big kids at Youth Gloop?" (Youth Gloop=Youth Group.)

And there's your dose of Wiggle-isms. If this baby is half as hysterical as his big brother is, I'll be ready for my reality t.v. stardom in about 2 years.

Kisses,