Dear Jacks,

oh hello there

2012-02-09T20:32:00.000-08:00

I am a horrible mommy blogger. I haven't written you a letter in months. So here are a few random moments, to hold you over, until I get my act together. Which is going to happen.

Jack-isms of late:

(Squirming in car) "Mama there's a booger in my throat and it's making me move!"

(Looking through a magazine) "I think Dada gave me this magazine when he was a mailman."

(Telling Katy and I what the specials are at your "restaurant") "Sour muffins that are good actually."

And some Instagram photos:

playground romance...

teacher's pet...

tackle football in indy...

snuggle time with mama...

beach baby

2011-12-15T06:12:00.000-08:00

you are one lucky boy.

not only do you live in California by the beach, your Auntie Katy takes pictures like this one.

when we met, we were awkward, giggly little 14-year-olds.

now she's Stella's mommy.

she's that very silly Ari's wife.

she's your Auntie Katy.

she's mama's best friend.

and she just happens to be the best.photographer.ever.

EVER!

go to here for more pictures.

p.s. I will chase away pigeons for you any day Mr. Jackson James...

O Christmas Tree

2011-11-28T11:15:00.000-08:00

I know you're not going to tell anyone that we've had our Christmas tree up for over 3 weeks now. Just like I know you're going to pretend that you were wearing underwear in this picture. And I KNOW that you're going to get over your paralyzing fear of Santa Claus so that I can get a picture of you on his lap. For my "This Is How I Terrorize My Child" photo album.

Bike Club

2011-11-05T07:59:00.000-07:00

You're learning to ride a bike. In the house. Without pants. That's how it's done, right?

WATCH OUT FOR THE BAR, SON!

"I snuggle with you."

2011-11-05T07:31:00.000-07:00

It won't be weird if we do this when you're 15. I swear. It won't. (Please.)

Trick or Treat!

2011-11-02T14:10:00.000-07:00

We had a great Halloween! Full of costume changes, sugar-induced meltdowns and red cup in hand trick or treating parents.

There you are... Rapunzel, Super Why and "I-Don't-Want-To-Dress-Up" sorting through the candy we were giving out, and by "sorting" I mean hoarding some for yourselves...

It took you a second to get into the whole trick or treating thing. You were very judgmental when it came to choosing houses. Take this one for instance...

3 lousy, tiny pumpkins and what's with that spotlight above the door?? And forget it if they had their lights on, door open and even a bowl of candy visible - if there were no pumpkins? You'd say, "No, I need a pumpkin house."

You're the boss : )

Apples and Pennies

2011-10-02T14:54:00.000-07:00

This weekend, we took a trip to the Apple Store. For fun? Not really. Let me rewind.

A couple of days ago I picked up my computer and noticed this sound - like something was sliding around inside of the thing. I looked at you, blinking adorably at me.

"Jack, did you put something in my computer?"

(No hesitation.) "Yep."

"What did you put in there?"

(Adorable face.) "A penny."

"Ok. Well. Never do that again, ok?"

That was a couple of days ago, and I've been ignoring the coin rattling around in my best friend's guts. Denial. But ignoring it became impossible when your dad unknowingly tried to insert a DVD into the disc drive and all sorts of horrible sounds erupted from the thing. Fast forward to our trip to the Apple Store.

I hate that place. Are they trying to intimidate the customers by outnumbering them with employees? Sweet Jesus, never walk in their wearing a blue shirt carrying an iPad - someone will attack you with nerd questions, even though you're a toddler. It's also impossible to figure out where you're supposed to buy something because the Apple Store is too cool for a normal cash register. No, at the Apple Store they use invisible laser air technology to ring you up. Whatever. Thank goodness for this:

It kept you busy half the time we were there. You occupied the other half with "can we leave NOW" questions.

Trust me son, I wanted to leave, but they decided that before they open my hard drive to remove the penny and Monsters and Aliens, I should back up my computer. Because I never have. Because I didn't even know what that meant. And because the penny might murder all of your baby photos.

So we left the Apple Store $200 poorer, but at least there's still a penny in my MacBook. And no, I did not purchase that Marc by Marc Jacobs computer sleeve seen in the above picture even though I really, really, really, really wanted to.

Halloween costume

2011-09-30T08:20:00.000-07:00

Last year you were a hot dog...

AND a New York Yankee (Jeter to be exact)...

This year, you are going to be him...

No I'm serious. And you are very well aware of it. When anyone asks you, you say "Cee Wo Geen." And when they ask you HOW you're going to dress like him, you say "I gonna wear awl the fancy things." I love you.

Knock Knock

2011-09-27T06:58:00.000-07:00

You've figured out 'knock knock jokes'. Sort of. Here's how your's go...

You: Knock knock who's there.

Me: No, just say knock knock. I say who's there.

You: Knock knock who's there.

Me: Ok. Who's there.

You: Cock-a-doodle-doo who.

Me: Cock-a-doodle-doo who who?

You: (Eruption of laughter)

Apparently I've just figured them out as well, or at least can't remember any of the good ones, because here's my version...

Me: Knock knock.

You: Who's there?

Me: Apple.

You: (Laughter)

Me: Say apple who?

You: Apple who?

Me: APPLE IN YOUR FACE!!!

You: (Rolling on the floor laughing and no, I will not abbreviate that.)

(Cartoon)

No title makes sense for this.

2011-09-26T15:36:00.000-07:00

Remember the scene in Ferris Bueller when the creepy principal thinks he's found Ferris, but really it's a pretty lady who sort of resembles Justin Bieber? I'm not asking you, Jack, I'm asking your fans. Anyone? That's what this reminds me of...

That is all, carry on with your day.

We should buy you some new underwear.

I love you, Mama

2011-09-20T20:17:00.000-07:00

That's what you just told me, clear out of the blue...

I said, "I love you too Jackson, more than the whole wide world. How much do you love me?"

And you said, "twenty minutes."

I'll take it.

(Image here)

Sports Class

2011-09-16T14:31:00.000-07:00

We just started something called "Multi-Sports" and your first class was today. I have to preface this letter by saying the following: I am not one of those mothers who think their child is an angel 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. (I'm not judging mothers that do, but recommending they seek therapy.) Of course, I am your biggest fan, but I will always be honest with you and everyone else. That said... YOU WERE THE BEST KID IN THE CLASS!!!

Just look at you attentively listening to Coach Derek, little hands behind your back. While the other kids were running away from their parents or throwing tantrums (not judging, not judging, been there, done that), you followed every direction, cheered for your classmates, shared, gave the Coach high fives and impressed us all with your soccer skills.

Coaches pet. I am so proud of you, that I rocked this shirt your dad surprised me with last night...

HELL YEAH I'M YOUR MOM! (I know nothing about soccer.)

2.5

2011-09-16T07:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday you were officially two-and-a-half years old. And you gave me that beautiful rose. I think it's time for a few updates...

In late July, you decided you were over your crib. Not by climbing out or anything, just by NOT SLEEPING. Also by pointing to the bed in your room and saying, "I want to sleep there, mama." You've always been very articulate. So, we got one of those fancy bedrail things and set you up. For the most part, you sleep great in it and barely ever get down from the bed by yourself. When you do, your father and I are terrified you will stumble through the hallway and fall down the stairs - so we've taken to locking you in your room like Rapunzel.

You've figured out how to undo locks.

Potty training: I would say we are 75% there. You've always loved to rub your diaper while you're drinking milk, and this habit will not die. So you're allowed a diaper in the morning, during naptime and at night. You're also allowed one when we're out and about and you haven't pooped yet that day. What, I'd rather not deal with cleaning up crap at the grocery store. Other than that, you love going pee pee in the potty. Every successful attempt is like a mini party... I jump up and down, hug you and tell you how proud I am, and you get an M&M. That is, if you remember you want one.

You always remember you want one.

I've started giving myself treats after I go pee pee, too.

Cinderella

2011-09-15T15:03:00.000-07:00

Today as we were perusing the super exciting cleaning aisles of Target, you pointed to a sponge and said, "Can I peeeeease have one?" What mother in her right mind would say no to that???

So we got home, I cut the sponge into little pieces, and you went to work scrubbing the deck...

What a pleasant game. I titled this post 'Cinderella' but I think you look more like Gus Gus...

Homemade Bubbles

2011-09-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

We made these bubbles over the summer and you were such a good helper. Who knew they were so easy to make?! Can you blow bubbles in the winter or do they freeze? Deep thoughts...

Homemade Bubbles

1 1/2 cups of water
6 T liquid soap
2 T corn syrup

*We ended up multiplying this recipe by 6.

Your birth story... Part 2.

2011-09-14T00:00:00.000-07:00

That was a very surreal night. I dragged my IV to the bathroom at least 5 times. I slept a little. Your dad slept a little. We silently stared at each other, the ceiling, all the while listening to your heart beating through the monitor. Thinking, this is the last night of our lives without you. Tomorrow is your birthday. Tomorrow changes everything.

They checked me in the morning but I wasn't having any contractions, and I was only slightly dilated. They checked me every hour or so after that. In the meantime, I had visitors. My sister, your Auntie Hannah, who brought your dad beef jerky so he wouldn't faint. Carson's sister, your Auntie Q, and her family... your Uncle Joel and your cousin Jaden. Your other cousin, Rinnie, was in Auntie Q's belly, due out the following month. They brought me that big blue bunny in the above picture (that I started eating when the contractions started). Carson's parents came, your Kiki and Pops. All of my girlfriends (your aunties) had gathered and were spending the day together with my Dad (your FarFar), waiting. Gigi was on a plane. I felt the love and excitement all the way down to my bones.

Around noon, there was still no action, so they gave me Pitocin to induce the labor. HELLO. HELLO LABOR. That drug is a quick SOB. I started contracting and they went from manageable to painful to HELL, fast. I don't really know how to describe it other than a cramp: a gut-wrenching, pain-shooting, evil-eyed cramp. I kept hearing our Birth Class Teacher in my head, don't get the epidural too soon but don't get it too late. WHAT DOES THAT MEAN, I asked my head. SOMEONE JUST TELL ME WHEN TO GET IT! And that's exactly what your dad did. He could sense my angst and simply said this, "Don't be a hero." That was all it took. Check please! Epidural time!

That was around 2:30pm. But your dad also reminded me... when you call for the epidural, it doesn't magically appear in your bloodstream. They have to call for the dude, he might not be ready, blah blah, blah blah. He came up around 3pm, and sloooooooooowly got me prepped for the magic drug. There was some chit chat, some instructions, but all I could hear was my brain telling me it wouldn't be kind to spit in his face. And then, LET'S ALL SIGH AND IMAGINE...

I felt nothing. I felt calm, happy. Your dad kept watching the contractions on the monitor with his jaw dropped. He kept saying, "You really don't feel that?!? How about this one?!" I was in my happy place, eating lots and lots of jello. Your dad went across the street to IHop for a burger. Gigi's plane landed and she made it to the hospital early evening. Everyone had gathered in the waiting room. One big happy family on the Ides of March.

It must have been 7pm-ish when they checked me again and said, "you're ready." A surreal thing to hear. Nine months of preparing, a lifetime of wondering how women do it, and there I was... about to find out. Everything moved fast after that. I asked my mom to stay in the room, to take pictures when you arrived. Carson put on Kings of Leon, and muted Shark Week on the TV. Dr. Kessler appeared and I watched him put on his scrubs, talking about the dinner he had left. And then I thought about nothing other than this powerful need to push that was overwhelming my body. A nurse grabbed one foot, my mom the other. Your dad took my hand. This was probably 8:20pm.

At 8:41pm, on March 15th, 2009, you were born...

You weighed 7 pounds, 9 ounces and were 20 inches long. We told everyone your name was Jackson James Daly, "James" after Carson's daddy in heaven.

When they handed you to me, I remember being hysterical. No tears, just smiles and shaky laughter and I think I said, "So this is what you look like." Your eyes were wide open, your cry was soft. Your father kissed me, and when I looked at him I saw you. Everyone came to meet you. First the grandparents, then the aunts and uncles and finally my best friends. You were loved from your first minute of life.

So there you have it, our birth story. I feel lucky to have loved every minute of it, even the pain. (Now I'm just lying to all of your faces.) Giving birth is like winning this awesome, fuzzy, pink, Oscar. So here's my acceptance speech:

I would like to thank God. And my family and friends. I would like to thank those juice cocktails the hospital hands out in the giant cups. Oksana the Nurse. Your Dada. And you. The End.

Your birth story... Part 1.

2011-09-13T10:27:00.000-07:00

Hello. It's been a very long time since I've written you a letter. I could go over a billion things right now - updates, silly stories, poo poo and pee pee anecdotes - but I thought for my first plunge back into this I would start from the beginning. Many of my friends have had babies in the last 6 months, their stories so fresh in my mind. It has caused me to reflect on your birth story, and it suddenly dawned on me that some of the details are blurring together. So before I forget any more of that fateful day, I wanted to write it down. After all, when you're a grown man, I know you'll want to recall everything that happened to my vagina on March 15, 2009.

You were due March 31st. People had bets on when you'd arrive, and most of them were post-due date. But I was all, hell to the NO! You see, I was experiencing horrible back pains that resulted in long, sleepless nights. Don't worry, it wasn't your fault! I'm just being nice, it was totally your fault. ("Tiny Bingo" is what we called you when you were in my belly, a nickname and a story for another day.)

The morning of March 14th, your dad and I were at our final "Birth Class" - you know, the kind where they teach you to do breathing techniques on a giant exercise ball that are completely useless. I started contracting, but I had no idea. I must have had a pained expression on my face, because our teacher looked at me and said in front of everyone, "Are you having a contraction?" I was like, "Um no? Yes? Maybe? What!?!" But it passed, the class ended and we went along with our day - which consisted of putting the car seat in the car, taking an infant CPR class, and eating huge sandwiches. We were very productive.

Early evening, I felt like taking a walk. I went by myself, and wandered to the exact same spot I sat, staring at the ocean, on the day I found out I was pregnant. I became emotional. I started talking to you, out loud, which, to a passer-byer, must have looked insane. I told you I was ready to meet you. I talked about all the people who were also anxious to meet you, who loved you already. I cried happy tears. And then I went pee in a port-a-potty.

When I got home, I made mac & cheese for your dad and I. We finished off the box, and settled down on the couch for a movie. 3:10 to Yuma. I fell asleep half-way through it. I dreamt your dad and I were a part of the movie...

This is when the party got started. Around 9pm, I was jolted awake by water, everywhere. I thought I had fallen into a toilet or peed my pants, and then I became sane. I said to your dad, "SOMETHING JUST HAPPENED." He gave me a funny look and then I said, "MY WATER BROKE!" We both jumped up and started talking to ourselves at the same time. My side went like this, "Ok, I'm going to go change. Maybe go to the bathroom? I don't think I have to go the bathroom. Ok. I feel fine? Oh dear, look at the couch." Your dad, "I should call someone, I should do something, I need a drink." When we finally started talking to each other, we came to the conclusion that we should get our "Go Bag" and head to the hospital.

We pulled up to Saint John's in Santa Monica and checked in. Once I was in bed, they checked to confirm my water had actually broken. I kept thinking, please don't let it be pee, please don't let it be pee. Because that would have been embarrassing and that would have been a record breaking amount of urine. It wasn't.

They gave us the option of going home, spending the night in our beds, and coming back in the morning. A lot of people probably would have preferred that option, but not your father and I. We like doctors and machines and drugs and people who know what they're doing. So we got settled in. I called my mom (your Gigi) who was still in Minnesota. She started looking into early morning flights. Carson called his parents in Palm Desert, and they got in the car. While I was getting all hospital robed and IV'ed up, your dad went home to get music and BEER. This shouldn't surprise you. Like I said, the party had begun...

To Be Continued.

Dear Jacks is on...

2011-08-19T11:40:00.000-07:00

I promise we'll be back in September : )

Summer.

2011-06-17T08:52:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I haven't written to you lately. I promise, I promise, soon...

Got Milk?

2011-05-19T15:55:00.000-07:00

You do:

And you're addicted. Like, crack addict hooked. MOMS, ADVICE!!!

The Big Hand!

2011-05-10T07:18:00.000-07:00

You are obsessed with two things these days. One, a little show you like to call "The Big Hand Show" (otherwise known as The Voice). You actually can point out "Bake Shetton" and now, whenever you see a girl with platinum blond hair, you say, "Kiss-tina!" But mostly, you're obsessed with making "the big hand"...

It's not easy for your chubby little fingers, so you actually prefer it when Mama or Dada do it. Which brings me to your second obsession: taking pictures. I think you might actually have an eye for it! This you took on an airplane...

You caught me trying to watch Top Chef...

Over it...

At home...

While drinking...

BARF

2011-05-02T15:55:00.000-07:00

We just took a quick trip to New York. It was a lovely time, or, as you like to say these days, "AMAZING." (Some other new favorite words and phrases... "I'm so excited!" and "stupendous" - seriously.) We spent 15 of the 3 days we were gone in airports or on planes, but you flew like a champ! Until. Until the last 5 minutes of our return flight... when air pockets and too much milk and jet lag and lord knows what else got to you, and got to your tummy, and you threw up. On me. With one, quick "BLAH" I had vomit all over my shirt, soaking my hair, on my backside and in my underpants. It was actually quite impressive how you managed to get nothing on the chair or yourself. I took it all for the team. Your welcome American Airlines flight attendants. Did I mention who watched the whole thing go down?

That's right, she did. Sharon Stone was on our plane - and actually asked me if she could help as we de-boarded. Looking back, I should have asked for the shirt off her back, huh? Next time.

Stars, they're just like us!

2011-04-30T13:39:00.001-07:00

This is what I looked like when I nursed you, in case you were wondering.

Only my heels were a little higher.

ET Phone Home

2011-04-28T15:09:00.000-07:00

Writing a letter to the aliens...

Remember when...

2011-04-14T13:46:00.000-07:00

...you lived in my belly?

You quit.

2011-04-11T14:48:00.000-07:00

I guess watching mommy try on bras is not your idea of fun, but parking your butt on a set of train tracks is.

"A leeeetle baby"

2011-04-08T15:25:00.000-07:00

Nope, that is not you, that is mommy holding brand new baby Paxton. You and I went to visit him last week, and the whole way there you couldn't stop talking about "leeeetle baby Pat-ick-son." Of course, you showed zero interest while I held the sweet little guy (there was a skateboard in the midst, I mean). But you still talk about him, about how small he was and how he made "waaa, waaa" sounds. It's hard for me to remember you being that "leeeetle." Sigh...

School.

2011-04-04T07:39:00.000-07:00

You won't stop talking about it. You want to go, you say, and you want to "play with kids" and "climb" and see your "teacher" and "learn all about animals." And guess what? I am not ready. Just like I am not ready to put you in a big boy bed, or give up our morning-bottle of milk-cuddle time (and afternoon, and evening). But guess what again? You know the entire alphabet. You've memorized half-a-dozen songs. You read books to me and you get most of the words right. You can count to 10 and you know your colors (sort of... working on pulling the "Brobee" off the front of "green") and you have fully communicated with us for months now. Maybe you are ready. Guess what a third time? You're not going to preschool until you're 3.5 years old. So there.

But... guess what? Today, we're starting a "play club" at THE preschool we want to send you to in a little over a year. Compromise. You think you're going to "school" and I think I'm going to throw up.

(Your older cousin starts kindergarten in August. I remember when she was younger than you. Slow. Down. Time.)

"Your" drawer

2011-03-25T07:47:00.000-07:00

As you know, mommy spends a lot of time on her (fake) job, writing her food blog. Hey, before you complain, you score lots of yummy treats and healthy dinners from my (made-up) career! But it does mean I spend a good chunk of the day thinking about dinner, prepping for dinner and actually making dinner. If your dad isn't around to play with you, here's what we do...

I open "your" drawer...

...which consists of my baking equipment. All kiddie-proofed stuff, minus that somewhat sharp candy thermometer that I still let you play with for some reason. You love it. You make a mess. You bring friends (see Woody and Buzz above).

Yesterday I taught you how to design the floor with mini tart pans. I realize there will come a day when you tire of measuring spoons but until then, the drawer is all "yours."

There's a Hole in the Garden, Dear Jackson...

2011-03-23T14:05:00.000-07:00

"Little Jackson had a farm..."
"Boom Boom ain't it great to be... Jackson!"

Just a couple little ditty's from your new unique CD from the lovely people over at Name Your Tune! They are a company that sells personalized CD's featuring familiar songs with your child's name! (Not your child, Jack, you don't have a child, you're 2).

It's so awesome. Every time you hear that if Jackson is happy and he knows it, well, you clap your hands! Hearing your name sung by a stranger coming from mommy's car blows your mind, which is really fun to witness. Thanks Name Your Tune!

Two years ago...

2011-03-15T09:50:00.000-07:00

...you made me a mommy.

Best job on this Planet Earth. Happy Birthday my "Ides of March" baby boy. Thank you for making me, your daddy (and everyone who knows and loves you, as evident on the graffitied wall above) so incredibly happy!

Tantrum

2011-03-03T10:20:00.000-08:00

Your tantrums are adorable. I'm sorry, I know you want to be taken seriously during them because you're furious with life and all, but they're adorable! Whenever you get fed up with us, you say, "I go night night!" and you run into your playroom, shut the door, and do this...

Butt hiiiiigh in the air. If we try to follow you, you say, "Bye Bye! Night night!" So we leave you alone. And a couple minutes later you're as happy as a pig in poop.

You bowl now.

2011-02-22T15:16:00.000-08:00

A couple of times I was afraid the ball wouldn't actually reach the pins.

Back!

2011-02-17T15:31:00.000-08:00

As of late, when you don't want me near you (I know, I don't get it either) you sort of shove me with your hand and say, "Back, Mama, back."

Back where? Back where I came from? Well I've got news for you, Buster Brown, YOU came from me! So if anyone is going BACK where they came from, it's you. Into my womb. Huh? I don't know what I'm saying, I'm tired...

Glitter Hands

2011-02-02T09:03:00.000-08:00

I painted your nails.

Your dad let me. Sort of.

3 Strikes and Child Services comes a'Knocking

2011-02-01T14:34:00.000-08:00

You are almost 2 years old, and I assume by this point you've gathered enough information about me to realize that I am not the world's most "put together" mother. I don't know who is, but I do know that she showers more than twice a week, ALWAYS changes pee pee sheets instead of just throwing a blanket over the wet stain, and has never, EVER done any of the following three things...

1. Forgotten to pack baby's jacket when flying into a Blizzard.

We flew to New York during one of the 37 blizzards they've had this winter. Naturally, as Californians (and as a Minnesotan who has blocked cold weather from her memory), we were plenty concerned with warm clothing. Your dad brought his massive Raiders jacket that could fit 3 eskimos inside. I looked like this:

But your jacket? Forgot it. Your dad shoved you in his coat to keep you warm but mainly to hide you so it didn't look like we had a toddler without a jacket wandering around in a wintry mix of sleet and snow. We made it safely to the hotel, and the next morning I braved the 10-foot high snow drifts in search of a jacket. Did I mention this was the day after Christmas? THE STORES WERE EMPTY! No one had returned anything yet because they were still drunk off blizzard hot toddies. I went to 5 stores before settling on a 12-16 month (you were 21) girl's jacket (you're a boy).

2. Changed baby into shorts on the floor of the NYSE after baby wet his nice "business casual" pants.

A picture of the floor of the New York Stock Exchange is perhaps next to the word "BUSINESS" in the dictionary. Men in suits, women in suits, period. Visitors are asked to dress "business casual." We had the opportunity to visit the floor over Christmas break, and I fussed over making you look like the perfect future stock broker/GQ cover baby. Miiiiiight have paid too much attention to your clothes and maaaaybe forgot to change your morning diaper. By the time we reached the NYSE, you had wet yourself a billion times over. NO MATTER! I AM SUPER MOM! I COME PREPARED! I HAVE BACK-UP CLOTHES! Err, I have back-up clothes for California surfer baby, not future stock broker/GQ cover baby. F. So I was forced to change you into blue sweat shorts for all to see. Don't worry, pictures were taken.

3. Failed to clean up pee on playground equipment with other mothers watching.

Now we're back in California. It's easy and breezy and calm and warm and everything is cool. No need for a jacket, surfer boy back-up shorts a'plenty in the diaper bag... all is right in the world. Until one day we're at the playground and I look down to text your father and I hear, "I think your son is peeing." I look up, and you are peeing. You are peeing on some piece of playground climby thingy. I go to pick you up and realize I have nothing on me, the diaper bag is in the car and the car is far away. I grab you and sort of kick sand over the urine-contaminated spot, avoid eye contact with the other mothers, and run away. It sort of reminded me of this.

p.s. I realize a lot of this letter had to do with pee. What. You pee a lot.

Homemade Play-Doh

2011-02-01T10:17:00.000-08:00

You are a big fan of play-doh, but mostly just smushing it deep into the carpet. So what did I decide to do?? Make HOMEMADE play-doh so you could ruin even more of the house! But I don't mind, I love play-doh too. It smells like childhood and you can turn it into spaghetti with one of these. (Yes, that is mommy's cocktail hiding behind the tupperware...)

Homemade Play-Doh
(Makes approx. 2 cups)

1 cup flour
1/2 cup salt
1 T oil (I used vegetable)
2 tsp cream of tartar
1 cup water
Few drops food coloring

Place all ingredients in a pot...

Cook on low heat for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly...

Let cool. It will appear lumpy and soft first, but once it cools it becomes playdoh-like consistency.

Store in covered containers!

Chalk it Up!

2011-01-17T14:07:00.000-08:00

We decided to take a whole wall in your play room and turn it into a chalk board...

It has been family fun for all! Check out my DJ Lance Rock!

Not bad, if I do say so myself...

But speaking of BAD, check out your dad's depiction of me:

That's horror film scary. I'm starting to see a trend here...

Twenty Eleven

2010-12-31T08:15:00.001-08:00

Jackson James, we have successfully survived a FULL year together. Can you believe it?! Do you remember this time last year? I just re-read that post and I can't believe how much can change in a year. For one thing, the weather...

Last year a few flurries, this year a full-on blizzard. But that was days ago, the snow has now melted and it should be a warm 40 degrees tonight in Times Square.

Last year you had 4 teeth. Now you have eleventy. Last year you were almost walking. Now you're almost doing cartwheels down the hall. Last year you were a baby genius, this year you're a toddler genius.

I predict Twenty Eleven will have wonderful things in store for us! I resolve to be a more patient mommy, daughter, sister, friend and partner to your daddy. I resolve to eat more chocolate, and exercise more than twice. I resolve to let you get muddy, to ruin your clothes, and to allow you to draw with pen all over your tummy. I resolve to write you more letters, but only during naptime. I will write a children's book, about something. And I will love you even more than I did this year.

(Happy New Year to YOU and YOURS. xo)

You're Fired.

2010-12-14T11:31:00.000-08:00

We recently stayed at the Trump Soho in New York City (p.s. now when you see any building higher than 10 stories you point and say "Ooo Ork"). It was a lovely hotel with a lovely room and lovely service. They even gave you a coloring book to play with! Success. However, here is a page in said coloring book:

Fail.

Really, Donald Trump? This is the message you want to send small children? Notice how the lady isn't even holding any bags, leading me to believe those are not, in fact, her children but rather small slaves she hired to shop with.

Thank you Florence

2010-12-11T13:22:00.000-08:00

I am in love with this video...

We just decided to try out the song on you, and it was like magic! At every moment the song picked up, your little head started shaking like a bobble-head. What a perfect song.

Pee Pee in the Pot-Tay!

2010-12-09T14:11:00.000-08:00

You've gone ahead and taken the first step in potty training yourself.

Only you're backwards. And you have clothes on. Also, I'm not sure why you've bought my favorite pink kitchen tongs along with you. If you think we're going to use those to pick up the poo poo, you're... hmm... maybe I'll buy another pair of tongs.

Picasso.

2010-12-08T12:48:00.000-08:00

Are you ready for another installment of My Kid's A Genius? Just look at that artwork:

You have been drawing nearly perfect circles for months. Now, you're including small circles inside of the larger ones! Most of the time, as you're drawing, you say, "two eyes!" Bravo, my son, bravo!!

p.s. They also sort of look like boobs.

p.p.s. Please disregard the Jack Daniel's chalkboard we bought after seeing it in a bar.

Dancy Dance Time

2010-11-29T14:22:00.000-08:00

Hi. I am your crazy happy mother.

These days, unusual things amuse me. You poop in the bath tub, I'm laughing. You look at me, shrug, and say, "I don't know, mama." I'm dying. You repeat a swear word. Wait that's not funny. (Ohmygoshyesitis.)

So when we went to Yo Gabba Gabba Live, I was on CLOUD NINE. I mean it, best time of my life. You had fun too, but this is about me, I mean it's about you, I mean I want to go again.

p.s. Those glasses I'm rockin' were made of paper, but I kind of like them.

Baby Mine

2010-11-22T12:09:00.001-08:00

A song I sing to you every night...

I remember watching this as a child and it hurt my heart, every single time. Now, as a mother, it hurts my heart in a new way. The thought of being chained up, my only contact with you through a tiny window, unable to hold you in my arms, but only with my long trunk. Oh wait, I'm not an elephant. But you know what I mean.

It's Thanksgiving time, and after watching this video I am thankful that I can freely sing this song to you every night. (And I'm glad I'm not in the circus.)

Yo Gabba Gabba Live

2010-11-18T12:04:00.000-08:00

In just 9 short days, we will be going to Yo Gabba Gabba Live!!!!

Who do you think is most excited? Your dad, with his new Gabba Vans that you like to rock... ME, who has a crush on Brobee... or YOU, who says "WO WO WO GABBA WO WO WO GABBA!" all, day, long!?

You ate a crayon.

2010-10-26T16:11:00.000-07:00

I guess I should be glad that you digested something green.

Mama

2010-10-13T10:34:00.000-07:00

HOLY LACK OF UPDATES. I'm sorry, son. It's just that... you turned into a Crazy Person Big Boy Kid all of a sudden and I have zero time to write blog posts. Well, right, except for my other blog that I update daily. I still love you.

So, it took almost a year and a half, but in early September you finally said my name!!! And the masses were right, I shouldn't have worried myself into a tizzy over the lack of the word because now that you've mastered it you say it a lot. A LOT. There are even a few variations in tone, and I've come to understand each...

1. Question Mark Mama... this tone comes into play when you're trying to get my attention. Usually, you stick your face right in front of mine and you say my name quickly and more than once. "Mama? Mama? Mama? Mama? Mama? Mama? Mama? Mama?"

2. Why Did You Do That Mama... when you use this version it means I've done something wrong. At least in your world. If I take something away or ask you not to put Cheerios in your ear, you go, "Oh, Mamaaaaaaaa." Sort of like, "Aw, man! What's wrong with this woman. She's no fun."

3. I Love You Mama... my personal favorite. Your tone is sweet, and it's usually accompanied with a hug. "Mama!" If I could bottle this one up, I would. Because I know there will come a day when you call me Poopy Head Face, and this will make me sad.

poo poo

2010-09-23T09:23:00.000-07:00

I happen to think you are the smartest little boy in the world. Probably because I am your mother but also because you are the smartest little boy in the world. What does this have to do with poo poo? Be patient.

You are so smart, that when I spell your name you say "Yak!" You are so smart, that I can ask you to go find a matching shoe and (sometimes 10 minutes later) you will come back with it.

Now, after you find a weird corner to do your business, you come back to me and say, "poo poo" and tug at your diaper. Naturally, I assume you're taking the first step in potty training yourself. I won't have to do anything. Genius.

(By the way, what, is, this.)

Color.

2010-09-13T12:43:00.000-07:00

You love to color. Thankfully, you no longer seem interested in eating crayons. However, you also have zero interest in coloring on paper. Instead, you like to color on things. Like your grandparent's floor, for instance...

How did I let that happen, you're wondering? I was busy coloring in a Dora coloring book. Obviously, I was enjoying it far too much and ignoring you.

Monster Mama

2010-09-04T09:06:00.000-07:00

I walked in on you and your Daddy drawing a picture last night. Your Daddy asked me who I thought it was, and naturally I said a Monster Lady...

Look at her. She has scary teeth and crazy hair and garbage all over her. Then, Daddy asked you who it was.

You said, "Mama." Naturally.

Cass the Dog

2010-08-26T09:18:00.000-07:00

We are on vacation with your Kiki and Pops and their dog, Cassie. No, this letter is not about how you can now say "Cass" and you STILL can't say "Mama." This letter is about how obsessed you have become with this dog. You kiss her face (which I try to discourage because she eats her own poop), you take her for walks, you feed her Cheerios and crackers, and you've even sampled some dog food (oops).

However, our vacation is coming to an end and that will mean, no more Cass. So, your Kiki bought the stuffed dog above as a replacement. Think it will work?

Wings of Joy

2010-08-10T15:52:00.001-07:00

Remember these?

They haven't gone away. In fact, I think they've gotten longer and curlier. What. the. fudgesicle.

Muck

2010-08-04T08:48:00.001-07:00

Now, in addition to signing the word "milk," you've started to say it! Only, it sounds like you're saying "muck." It's adorable. Muck, muck, muck. Although it sort of makes me think you want a glass of this:

Google image, you are really incredible. "Glass of muck" actually yields results? Photo here.

Mission Impossible

2010-07-30T12:11:00.000-07:00

There are nights (many nights) when you wake up crying. I usually try to ignore it (trust me, it's better for both of us) but sometimes it gets to the point where you start to convince me that there might actually be a monster under your bed. So, I walk down the hall like a sleepy elephant, bumping into walls and tripping over my own feet. I first try to soothe you back to sleep with my soft voice and a gentle pat on the back. If that doesn't work, I rip you out of bed and shove a bottle of water in your mouth. Eventually you fall back asleep... and this is when the trouble begins...

Mission Impossible: DON'T WAKE THE BABY

Obstacle 1 is walking out of your room. This part is relatively easy because luckily, there is carpet, and I am able to time my steps to the waves that your Sleep Sound Machine makes.

Obstacle 2. Did I say luckily there is carpet? Scratch that. There is too much of it, and closing the door against the thick carpet makes a really loud "swisssssshhhhhhhh" sound. Again, if I time that with the sound of the fake waves I am able to close it in 3 attempts.

Obstacle 3. This:

The gate that will prevent you from falling out of your crib, opening your own door, walking down the hall and falling down the stairs. The gate that sounds like prison doors closing. So opening and closing it in the middle of the night is not an option. I have to climb over it. During the day I can do this no problem. But at night, my limbs are heavy, and my body is rubbery. Fifty percent of the time I successfully make the leap. The other fifty percent results in a CLANG! that slaps the quiet night in its balls. You wake up. Repeat soft voice, gentle pat, rip up, shove water, obstacle 1, 2, 3...

Obstacle 4 is walking down the hall. Tiptoeing is never a good idea. I am too clumsy for that at 2:32am. No, instead I need both feet flat on the ground. I know exactly where the floor creaks. I avoid those spots like land mines. But I have to step every so softly, equal weight on each foot. I must make lucid movements, relax my body, because if I don't...

BONE SNAP! How is it even POSSIBLE for one's body to make such a loud noise!!?? I curse you old, out-of-shape body!!! DO SOME YOGA, G'DAMMIT. Sometimes you hear these bone snaps and it's back to square one, repeat soft voice, gentle pat, blah, blah, blah.

Obstacle 5, I am back in bed, I can't fall asleep. 5 minutes later, it's 6:30am, and I have to wake up...

And The Winner Is...

2010-07-26T07:33:00.000-07:00

What a fitting 100th post!! Without further adieu, random.org chose number...

MARY B!!!!!

Congrats Mary, please email me (siri at siriouslydelicious dot com) with the initial you would like on the necklace and your address.

Thanks everyone else for playing, and especially to Posh Mommy for making such lovely jewelry!!

p.s. Thank YOU Jackson for sleeping through the night. I love you.

Giveaway!!

2010-07-21T12:17:00.000-07:00

Posh Mommy Jewelry has been kind enough to offer a One-Disc Initial Necklace for this Giveaway! If you're the lucky winner, you'll be able to choose posh lowercase or vintage style font, as seen in these examples:

Perfect gift for yourself, a grandmother, a friend... you can choose your own initial, your child's initial, your cat's initial... whatever may please you!!

The rules:

1. You must be an official "follower" of this blog (click the "follow" button on the right margin).
2. You must leave a comment to win, it can be about anything!
3. The winner will be drawn at random on Sunday, 7/25, at 5pm PT.

That's all! I have one of these necklaces and they're divine. Check out Posh Mommy's website, Twitter and Facebook page!

16 month update

2010-07-19T10:07:00.000-07:00

You have discovered how to climb stairs. We congratulate you when you do it at the playground. We say NO when you do it at home...

Your hair looks like this, curls or mullet?

Your new words are "golf ball" and "apple" and "car" and no, you still have not said "mama" - I'm starting to wonder who you think I am...

You love to eat these and Mommy (that's ME) wants to buy stock in the company (photo):

Last night you were up at 10:21pm, 12:08am, 1:00am and 4:37am. What's that about?

You know how to sign "milk" (photo):

You continue to be your Mommy and Daddy's best friend!

Splash

2010-07-14T13:14:00.000-07:00

When I say that you hate swim class, I really, really mean it. You hate it as much as I would hate swimming with these guys...

However, you love the pool and have no problem splashing around at your grandparent's house. You love water in general... the beach, your tubby, drinking fountains, sinks, buckets. Anything that will get you wet.

But swim CLASS is another story. Maybe you're afraid of how I look in my headache-inducing swim cap I'm forced to wear at the Y. Or maybe it's the part where I dunk your entire head under water, suddenly, with no warning. Whatever it is, you scream for the entire half hour while I flash fake "I'm calm and I don't care if you're judging me and my child and this swim cap is squishing my brain" smiles at the other mothers.

No Day But Today

2010-07-13T08:57:00.000-07:00

This made me hug you extra harder this morning. May she rest in peace.

More shoes and high fives...

2010-07-09T09:58:00.000-07:00

We call your feet meat patties. They are very thick, and it hasn't been easy to stuff them into shoes. Until now! You have a better collection of footwear than your own mother, I'll have you know. Just look at those!

Other than sporting new shoes, you're into head banging, making "silly circles" (spinning until you get dizzy and fall down) and giving high fives.

Is there a picture in the world better than this?? I wish those were my pretty hands but they're not, they belong to your Auntie Ingrid. She's a hand model.

New Kicks

2010-07-06T12:47:00.000-07:00

Well, not exactly NEW, you got them for your 1st birthday from our dear friend Katy. But now they FIT! Shark chucks, with teeth and fins. I can't get over how adorable they are, and how old they make you look. My big boy in sneakers...

E-I-E-I-Oh.

2010-06-24T16:31:00.000-07:00

Hey Buddy,

It's been awhile since I've written to you, but I swear I'm only neglecting you in bloggy blog world and not in real life. We've been up to SO many fun and interesting things!! Here's an update...

HITTING

This one falls in the "interesting" (said sarcastically) category and not the fun one. You've hit your mama (moi) and more than once. It happens when you're a combination of frustrated, angry and exhausted. As a 15 month-old, you're not exactly sure how to handle these emotions yet. So you hit me in the face. My response has been a very stern NO (which causes you to sob) followed by a gentle (I think) explanation on why you don't hit your mama. This should work. Right? Right.

SLEEPING

You have 4 teeth coming in right now, which has been interrupting your sleep habits. (Don't worry, if I had 4 poky things piercing through any part of my body I would scream in my sleep too.) The only thing that seems to sooth you back into a peaceful slumber is when I sing Old McDonald Had a Farm. However, I'm a little koo koo at 3:30 in the morning, and sometimes it's hard for me to remember what belongs on a farm. The other night, my rendition of the song went something like this...

Old McDonald had a farm. E-I-(YAWN)-E-I-O. And on that farm he had a (LARGE PAUSE) folder. E-I-E-I-OOOO. With a fold fold here, and a fold fold there. Here a fold, there a fold...

You get it.

TALKING

You've been saying lots of new things! Step, truck, beach and of course, DADA. What woman's name have you uttered? DORA. That's right, not mama, but DORA. The EXPLORER. It's okay, I'm not bitter, because it is adorable when you say your girlfriend's name. Dooooooooooh-rah! (As long as I'm next...)

Photos HERE, HERE and HERE.

Dear Lord...

2010-06-07T10:45:00.000-07:00

HELP. You have figured out how to do this:

No, not transform yourself into a monkey. STAND IN YOUR CRIB! Do you know what this means?! It means, if you don't feel like napping, well then you can just stand up. And jump around. And throw your video monitor on the floor. And eventually, you can figure out how to climb out. Rather, FALL out.

Time to build a new crib with bars that reach the ceiling...

Photo HERE.

Some words?

2010-06-01T08:09:00.000-07:00

Vroom. Diggle. Duck. DADA.

While Scrabble may not officially accept the word "diggle" since it's actually not a word at all, I'm pretty sure they would allow "vroom." Yes? Scrabble lovers? Never mind that, I accept it as a word because YOU say it. All day long. Mainly because we have a lot of these in the backyard:

You also love to say DUCK. Duck, duck, duck, duck, duck. I'm trying to get you to QUACK but for now the ducks just say DUCK.

And finally, DADA. The word you say the clearest. You look right up at your father and say Dada with a twinkle in your eye. It's adorable. WHY WON'T YOU SAY MAMA?!? It's not for a lack of trying on my part, believe me. I've decided I'm going to try and get you to call me by name. SIRI. It's better than nothing.

Signing Time

2010-05-26T11:51:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to teach you (and myself) some sign language. Rachel Coleman teaches American Sign Language through a series of music videos, and they're fantastic. Check out her YouTube channel here.

Rachel's first daughter was born deaf. And her second daughter was born with cerebral palsy. Talk about overcoming challenges. It's amazing how, as parents, we adapt to whatever situation we find ourselves in with our children. "Normal" can mean a million different things. I hope you always remember that, Jack Attack.

If you're interested parents, you can read more about Rachel's story here.

Step 1: Make a Drink.

2010-05-17T11:54:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, you threw up milk all over your new Britax car seat.

Now, you really want to wash a curdled-milk-stained car seat right away, or else the smell turns into something awful. So that's what we did. Well, that's what your father did while I took you to the beach. (I know, hardly seems fair, right? But it was Mother's Day weekend and your father is a saint.)

Not an easy task, washing this boat of a car seat. It took your dad 3 different phone calls to stores and a web video to figure out how to remove the covering. And putting it all back together once everything had been hand-washed? Forget about it. I used to think Ikea assembly was hard. Not anymore.

(Image here)

Thank you...

2010-05-08T21:29:00.000-07:00

That's me, when I was a tiny thing like you. And that's your Gigi (grandma) and your Great-Grandma DeBoer. I always think about these fine ladies on Mother's Day, and always will. However, now I think about someone else, too. You. Thank you Choo Choo Meatball Man, for making me a mommy. I love you.

Snout Mouth

2010-05-05T11:37:00.001-07:00

Last night, I went mental. Let me explain...

You woke me up around midnight, not exactly crying but stirring in your crib. I sluggishly turned to the monitor, half asleep, to take a look. (We have a video monitor which has come in very, very handy... i.e. when it sounded like you were coughing but instead you were throwing up on your back.) It took a second for my eyes to open even halfway, and that's when I started to panic. You looked strange. Your mouth was very dark, and in a weird shape. Almost cartoonish. It looked like a pig's snout. Like this:

What was wrong with you, I started wondering?!? Oh my god, you looked swollen and weird, and where were your eyes?! Suddenly all I could see was this darkened, odd-looking snout mouth. I threw off the covers, ready to make a mad dash for your room. And that's when my eyes opened fully, and I realized what I was looking at.

Your feet. You had moved and your feet were where your head usually is. You had them pressed together and I guess the movement of your stirring combined with the nighttime shadows combined with the fact that my eyes wouldn't open made you look like a pig monster.

I quickly checked your actual face. It looked fine. I went back to bed.

What's the Name of That Song?

2010-05-03T11:02:00.001-07:00

I can't describe to you the joy I feel when I rediscover a classic Sesame Street video. This morning, during breakfast (when I have to show you YouTube videos on the computer to get you to eat food), I found this little ditty:

Instantly, I traveled back in time and was a 4 year old girl in pigtails again. Somehow I knew every word, like I've been singing this song all of my life. I got reeeeeeally into it, absurdly so, as if I was competing for a Tony Award (that's a contest, right?). You just stared at me, like you didn't know who I was. It was me, your mama! Only from yesteryear when I couldn't tie my own shoes and liked to tell strangers I was a boy.

Attack of the Birds

2010-04-29T10:44:00.000-07:00

We took you to the beach yesterday to see the "birdies." I put that in quotes because that is only how I refer to them in front of you. If you weren't around I would call them "dirty freakish nasty terrifying creatures" aka pigeons. You were sitting on the ground and your father accidentally dropped a french fry in your lap. Did you know that a pigeon will scoop up a french fry from just about anywhere, including a baby's lap? It ferociously came at you and the fried potato, spastically flailing it's ugly wings, until it's gross, pointy beak snatched what it was looking for. I screamed. You laughed.

Do I sound harsh? Well I was pooped on shortly after that. So. You tell me.

Welcome Home!

2010-04-26T11:46:00.000-07:00

I went out of town this weekend, for the first time since you were born, and came home to this on the front door:

Yes, that's a Triscuit taped to my sign. Lately you don't go anywhere without a Triscuit in your hand, but you gave one up to welcome me home. This equals LOVE. Sigh.

April 21st, 2010 - EPIC DAY!

2010-04-22T08:02:00.000-07:00

You started walking last night. YOU STARTED WALKING LAST NIGHT!

For months you've been cruising around with your little fingers tightly grasping my hand. Recently, you let me go and turned to the wall for support, traversing along like Spiderman. (No, you haven't scaled your way up to the ceiling, not yet at least.) In the past week, you've been slowly moving from wall to nearby object with no help at all. And I've caught you standing by yourself many times, beaming with self satisfaction.

But yesterday, it was go time. Right after your ridiculously quick afternoon nap. You must have decided you were ready. You must have decided you wanted to make your father and I swell with pride and astonishment. You must have decided I need less time sitting on my ass, watching you play on the floor, and more exercise in the form of frantically running after a 13 month old. Because you just up and started walking. It still blows my mind. How does one just do something they've never done before, and successfully? Maybe I should attempt to play the violin as well as those child prodigies? I've always wanted to be that good, and maybe if I study them enough...

The world must feel so new to you. Every morning must feel like Christmas. You no longer need to point at something you want, hoping and praying I will understand. Now you just go to there. It is your world. You can go to anywhere, son. Except the laundry room, electronics closet, near the fireplace, the stairs, the computer, my bathroom, any of the toilets, the street, the cleaning closet, the garage, the alcohol cabinet....

Baby Proofing

2010-04-15T14:10:00.001-07:00

Today you are 13 months old and we finally, FINALLY got to baby-proofing the house.

There you have it... gates, door locks, drawer latches, outlet covers, toilet seat locks, etc. Besides keeping you safe, I see 3 things resulting from this. Some good, some bad, and some very bad.

1. I will snack less.

(Here is where I share with you how lazy I am...) Just a second ago I went to the pantry to get some chips. But because it wasn't effortlessly simple to open the cupboard and grab them, I decided against it. Mind you, it's one push of a latch and the chips are at my disposal, but the effort it takes to exert such force with my fingers wasn't worth it at the time. No matter, I didn't need the chips.

2. I will pee in my pants more.

This is self explanatory. Those toilet seat locks are tricky. And I've already told you how lazy I am.

3. Your father will fall down.

Your dad leaves the house at 5am every morning for his radio job. It's dark, he's tired. It's very likely that just once, or maybe twice, he'll forget about the gate and go flying over it. Hmm, maybe we should pad the floors too?

Counting to 4

2010-04-14T09:20:00.001-07:00

This makes me happy. This makes YOU happy. And most importantly, this distracts you while I shove breakfast in your mouth.

The Golden Rule

2010-04-08T12:06:00.001-07:00

Would it be wrong of me to hang this in your room?

Swank Mommy

2010-04-07T08:05:00.001-07:00

Dear Moms, Dads, Friends of Moms and Friends of Dads,

Check out this site, Swank Mommy. They make the most beautiful, customized jewelry. Here's what they did for my son...

That's his birthstone, aquamarine. What a great Mother's Day gift! Also, for Dads...

Daddy Dog Tags! Quick, order yours now for Mom's Day, Dad's Day or for no reason at all!

Barfy Barf

2010-04-06T16:08:00.001-07:00

I think I'm a pretty good mom to you. I do lots of things right. Whatever "right" means. What I'm trying to say is, I think I'm getting the hang of this parenting job, and I think we make a pretty good team, me and you.

Unless, UNLESS, we are talking about vomit. I am terrible at this part of motherhood.

I have always had a queasy spot for vomit, pun intended. It's just so gross. I was that friend in college that handed my girlfriend a hair tie and then bolted. I think that the film and television industry should be required to post a running ticker, warning viewers of any upcoming spew.

But I guess I've always figured that when I became a mother, all of that would change. I'd be this Super Mom, a beacon of strength with throw up in her hair and heels on her feet.

I managed the spit up part just fine. But this barfy barf stage is new. It's happened twice now. Over-eating and a bumpy car ride. Your dad was there to help with the over-eating incident but the car ride, that was just moi. You were sitting in a grocery cart when it happened (note to self: kids throw up in grocery carts, WIPE THEM OFF BEFORE USE). For a brief moment, we both just stared at each other. I was thinking, hmm, what to do, that's icky. And you were thinking, Jesus mom, do something, this is icky! So I cleaned you up and awkwardly carried you to the car in a way that made it look like I'd never held a baby before.

I will get better at this, I will. Because something tells me this stage will last forever.

Itty Bitty Teeny Tiny Bites

2010-04-02T06:15:00.000-07:00

I think I want these...

Why do I want them? Because, I'm going to cut up your food until you're 18 years old and you eventually leave me. Why am I going to do that? Because, I don't think I will ever, EVER get over my fear of you choking. I mean, it might help when you have more than 5 teeth. A little. Right now, I'll give you a small bite of chicken and I'm talking VERY SMALL. As your little fingers guide the chicken towards your mouth I panic and think, wait that wasn't small enough. Was it? No, look at it Siri, it's huge, IT'S HUGE! GRAB IT! GRAB IT! I will then grab it and break it up into minute pieces, almost to the point where it becomes invisible.

This is NOT helping you learn to eat. I need to take a chill pill. Yeah, I said that.

Thanks Style Cafe Moms for the info on the shears. You can buy them HERE.

Dear Cheerios,

2010-03-26T06:59:00.000-07:00

There is a MAJOR market that you are missing out there, and that is the baby market. All my son will eat are Cheerios. And while that's fine and dandy, I would like him to eat other things too, like broccoli and carrots and meat and fish. So, favor... could you please make some spinach-flavored Cheerios? Salmon? Lean white meat? That would be so great, I would really appreciate it.

Your friendly consumer,
MOM

Welcome Spring 2010...

2010-03-24T11:27:00.000-07:00

I have been slacking on my letters to you. Bad Mommy. But there has been a lot going on lately... let me try and catch you up.

YOUR FIRST BIRTHDAY

You turned 1. I made a cake. You wanted nothing to do with it. For some reason, I'm still having a hard time coping with this. Which is stupid. As a mother, I should be thrilled that you're not into sugar yet. But I was so hoping for that picture of you, shirtless, pointy birthday hat strangling your neck, colorful cake and frosting in your eyeballs, ears, hair, etc. What's wrong with wanting that memory? Oh well. I guess I'll just take a picture of your father doing that stuff.

YOU GOT SICK, AND THEN YOU GOT SICK AGAIN

This experience truly brought out the "first time parents" in your father and I. We had books out, google up, our mom's on hold, and the drugstore in our house. And then we got sick. Cousins got sick, aunties got sick, grandmas got sick. AND, apparently, this will happen again, we've been told. Unless, of course, I try to keep you in one of these:

I TOURED A PRESCHOOL

Yes, that's right, a preschool that you won't even be attending for another 2.5 years. We have been told, however, that you are supposed to "develop a relationship" with the schools in your area around the time your child turns 1. Your father and I thought that was ridiculous, hilarious, stupid, and then we went along with it. I actually just got back from the tour, and I saw your whole life flash before my eyes. Stay little forever, please.

Uh huh. Uh uh.

2010-03-19T21:02:00.000-07:00

Your new thing... nodding. Every time you hear the word YES, from anyone, you start nodding with eyes open wide. It's adorable. I'm trying to teach you to shake your head when you hear NO, but so far with no success. You're a Yes Man.

I'm trying to decide if that's a good thing, or a bad thing? NO is an important word to learn. No bite. No pull mommy's hair. No walk into the street. You nod YES furiously through all of that.

Of course, when you do learn NO, it will all flip around. YES go back to bed. Yes eat your vegetables. Yes get mommy some more wine. I can already see you shaking your head...

It's Your Party!

2010-03-14T11:54:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow, you turn 1. What? Who, when, where, HOW?! When people tell you time flies, those people are not lying. On Saturday, we had a little birthday party for you. Your nickname, for now, is Choo Choo, hence the train theme. Here are some memories...

Balloons.

Gifts.

Cake.

Hats.

Monkeys.

Happiness.

(Majority of photos taken by iamchasingthirty.blogspot.com)

We all sing with the same voice!

2010-03-09T16:02:00.000-08:00

This just made me seriously happy:

I was showing you Sesame Street videos on YouTube while you were in your highchair, trying to distract you enough to eat ANYTHING (you've been sick, you're no longer into food), and I came across this video. The song came flooding back to me almost immediately, and when the chorus started, I practically flew out of my chair in a joyous, melodic movement.

"AND WE SING IN HAR-MON-EEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Beautiful.

These kids must be like 50 now.

Birth Day

2010-03-06T16:41:00.000-08:00

Each year on our birthdays, we're reminded by a certain someone of the day we were born. Our mothers go over the details we've heard a thousand times. We listen, sometimes with feigned interest because it's 2:27 in the morning, and we let them remember the experience like it was yesterday. I know mom, you kicked the anesthesiologist in the face, we say. The truth is, until we become a mother ourselves we can't fully understand why our own moms have done this year after year. It is because, while our birthday is important to us, it is equally if not MORE important to our mothers.

I write all of this as my son approaches his first birthday. For months, cakes and themes and invites and baby books have held my mind hostage. A train cake? A rainbow cake? Paper invites, or an E-vite? Do we invite everyone we know, or do we keep it small? Do we get a clown? A pony? Do we cater it? Or do I cook and lose my head?

Thankfully, in the midst of that madness I will have a moment of clarity and I will think... my son has been on this planet for almost one year. What?! How did that happen? I gave birth to him yesterday. If "yesterday" is equivalent to March 15th, 2009. Oh, what a day that was! I suppose my yearly tale to me son will go something like this...

It was beautiful out. Your father brought beer and music to the hospital room. It felt like a party, minus the contractions. Your grandparents were rushing to make it in time, from as near as Palm Desert and as far as Minnesota. Friends and family flooded the waiting room. Wonderful nurses... angels, saints, my best friends. Juice, jello, an epidural. You took your time at first and then came fast. It was a piece of cake. Ten fingers, ten toes. More beer. A celebration!!

Something like that. He will hear a version of that tale this year (although he may not understand me) and every year after that. Because I am his mother. I am the one responsible for his birthday! (Well, his dad shares this responsibility but this site is letters from me, right? Right.) It is a day for us to celebrate such an awesome accomplishment. It is a day for us to remember. It is not a day for us to stress about ponies and scary clowns.

Now that I am a mother, I understand all of this. I understand why parents (there you go, dads) feel such joy on their children's birthdays. Thus, on my own birthday this year (oops, already went by, next year), I will act like I've never heard the story of my mom arriving to the hospital in a limo. Tell me more, mom, tell me the whole story!! That's what I will say. I will not stress over my son's birthday cake. Much. I will not stress much. And I will always, ALWAYS recall the details of March 15th, 2009. To anyone willing to listen.

Bzzzzzzzzz

2010-03-03T15:49:00.001-08:00

Today, we went on a nature hunt!! In our house. To kill a bee. Yes, a bee was buzzing around the house all morning long. If you know your mother at all, then you know that I am not only terrified of bugs, but I always, ALWAYS imagine the worst case scenario. In this situation, it was you getting stung in your eyeball and then we find out you're allergic to bees. In my mind, that was going to happen.

So, after a few failed attempts at swatting the thing and running away like a pansy, we were presented with the perfect opportunity! The bee landed on our paper towel roll. I sat you down, far, far away, and I slowly approached the roll. Oh and I was wearing a glove. Yes, that's true.

Look at that! I did it!!! I successfully and simultaneously saved the bee's life and yours! TRIUMPH!

And I also TP'ed the backyard.

Really Sesame Street?

2010-03-02T08:55:00.001-08:00

I nursed you, but this makes me feel funny.

Maybe it's because she sounds like a small child? Or maybe it's other reasons...

Pop Goes The Weasel

2010-03-01T05:55:00.000-08:00

Because your name is Jack, you have a few of these guys:

They scare you. They scare me! The music is so sinister and creepy, like when movies foreshadow something terrible that's about to happen. It pops just a hair before you think it should, every time. A quote from your 4-year-old cousin:

That just made my heart tickle!

That's an adorable way of saying this mother f'er needs to be thrown out.

(Yes, it's before 6 in the morning right now...)

Your first girlfriend

2010-02-26T15:34:00.000-08:00

That's right, Katherine Heigl. Yes, I know we never watch that BS Grey's Anatomy but why else are you always calling out her name?? HEIGL. Hi-gull! You say it eleventy times a day.

Son, I have no problem with older women but she looks naked. Come on.

Terror at the Library

2010-02-24T14:35:00.000-08:00

Week #2 of Story Time at the Library. You officially think it's the most terrifying place on earth. What is more horrific than a room full of babies and moms and books and librarians? Not much, according to you. Waaaait, I know...

You see dead people.

&@$%#^^&#%

2010-02-23T06:56:00.000-08:00

In the middle of the night, when I think I hear you crying, as I reach for the monitor to check, I inevitably knock the damn thing down... sending a huge ruckus of THUD into the otherwise quiet night. This is the definition of frustration. Because most of the time, you were sleeping. I was only hearing your cries in my cracky sleep. But the noise of my clumsiness echoes down the hallway and THAT wakes you up. FRUSTRATION.

Bill

2010-02-22T14:05:00.001-08:00

I just asked you if you wanted to watch Kill Bill.

I meant Little Bill.

But Kill Bill would have been fun too.

We're walking, and we're walking...

2010-02-22T11:03:00.000-08:00

I think I forgot to mention something...

YOU TOOK YOUR FIRST STEPS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yup, time to baby proof the entire house.

The Great Adventures of Mr. David

2010-02-17T15:24:00.001-08:00

There is something about me you should know. I am from the Midwest. This means, I am too nice to people. For instance, when a man with a guitar on his back just approached us at the park and said he was selling children's CD's, instead of calling the cops and reporting a child molester like anyone else in LA would have done, I bought one. Yes, I bought his $8 CD. He said it was Beatles inspired, cartoony, fun for both kids and parents. That sounded nice. And I didn't want to hurt his feelings.

We got in the car and put the CD on. As it turns out, it's really good.

There he is, The Great Adventures of Mr. David. Website and all! "60s-influenced, rock'n kids music for ages 2-8. Truly original songs that parents will enjoy as much as their kids."

You see, sometimes it pays to be nice. Cost $8.

And don't take drugs from strangers.

When life gives you lemons...

2010-02-16T07:11:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, you sucked on a lemon and loved it. I refuse to turn that moment into a famous YouTube video, but I do not refuse to exploit others that have. Enjoy...

Ocean's 11

2010-02-15T06:19:00.000-08:00

It is Day 3 of Waking Up Before You and so far, so good. You're still asleep. I almost fell down the stairs on my way to get coffee, but I was able to regain my balance quietly so again, so far so good.

HAPPY 11 MONTH BIRTHDAY! You know what this means. This means we're nearing that age where I stop counting your age in months. I swore to myself I would never say you're 19 months old. How about one and a half? Close to two? Just turned one. That sounds better.

(I will crumble under pressure... you just wait... you'll be 13 months before I can stop it from coming out of my mouth.)

Choo Choo!

2010-02-13T08:48:00.000-08:00

I procrastinate. A lot. Avoid, avoid, pretend something's not happening, avoid. Not my best quality. HOWEVER, it is now almost less than a month before your first birthday and I will NOT procrastinate here, NO, SIR.

Since your nickname is "Choo Choo" I would like to make you a train cake for your birthday. I've been inspired by some images online, like the one above and this one:

Anyone have any good ideas? I bet you do!! If not thanks for NOTHING.

Stuf

2010-02-12T07:03:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up at 5am, to try and get stuff done. I am turning into that crazy person that wakes up at 5am to try and get stuff done. I'm not sure even I know what stuff I'm referring to. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is that you woke up at 5:30am. The only stuff I got done was showering. I guess that's something, considering most days I don't do that particular kind of stuff.

Somehow you fell back asleep in my bed and I was able to go downstairs to collect my coffee and computer. I love that stuff. And speaking of stuff...

One f? Why? That is all.

Once Upon A Time...

2010-02-11T07:08:00.000-08:00

I've decided to wake up before you in the mornings to try and get stuff done. But this morning, by the time I got downstairs, threw out last night's cheesecake that was still sitting on the counter (or my nightstand, whatever), microwaved some coffee (your dad turns the pot on at 5am when HE wakes up), turned on the news, powered up my computer, and sat down... I realized you'll be up in like, 6 minutes. Oh well, let's see what I can accomplish in 6 minutes!!

I took you to the library yesterday for Story Time...

I can't believe it's taken me 11 months to do this. It was incredible. Short and sweet. Kids under 2 years of age everywhere. All kinds of moms, grandmas, one dad, nannies. Stories, songs. It was awesome! You were terrified.

Yes, I think you are suffering from stranger anxiety... which only encourages me to take you there more!

Quinoa for Baby

2010-02-10T10:18:00.000-08:00

I'm already finding myself in ruts where I feed you the same meals every day. BAD MAMA! So yesterday I tried something new, quinoa! Pronounced "keen-wah." Not "quinn-oh-ah." But call it what you want, it's good. You have 5 teeth now with more on the way, you're MORE than capable of feeding yourself and you're almost 1! All bets are off. No more meat paste. Praise the lord!

Quinoa and Veggie Salad

1/2 cup quinoa
2 T olive oil
1 cup vegetable stock
1/2 cup chopped zucchini
1/2 cup chopped yellow squash
1/2 cup chopped butternut squash
crumbled feta cheese

Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in saucepan over medium high heat. Toss quinoa in olive oil for about 30 seconds.

Add vegetable stock and turn heat to high, bring to a boil. Cover and simmer for 20 minutes.

In the meantime, chop veggies into teeny, tiny pieces. I actually put the butternut squash in a Cuisinart to chop. It's difficult to get into teeny tiny pieces with a knife because of its tough texture, and because I'm lazy.

Once quinoa is done, remove from saucepan. To save dishes, I used the same one for the veggies. Add remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil over medium heat. Saute vegetables for 10-15 minutes. Taste to make sure they're cooked through. Obviously, if you're making this for a small child, you want them to be well done, almost over done.

When veggies are cooked, combine with quinoa, crumbled feta and stir!

I mentioned this on my other blog, but for adults... add 1 clove of garlic to sauteed vegetables, season with salt and pepper and top with toasted pine nuts. A healthy side dish or lunch for big people and mini people!