Painting Eggs

What the Heck Do Babies Have Against Baby Toys?

Silas's favorite new toy:

Take it away and you die.

Easter

Well, Sadie may be afraid of leprechauns and a bit wary of Santa, but it would seem that the Easter Bunny is so not scary.

When we woke this morning I said, "Hey Sadie, do you think she came?"

Yes, the EB is a she. How do I know? Sadie told me so.

Anyway, all it took was that reminder that it was Easter and Sadie was down the hallway. Come, Mama! Come!

I'm thinking next Christmas she'll be sneaking out to open presents at 4am with no fear.

Here's what Ms. Bunny (did I not mention she's also a women's libber?) left for Sadie and Silas:

A book, a toy, a puzzle and bug catcher for the gal who loves worms and ladybugs.

Some chocolate bunnies, too.

Here Sadie is right as she managed to get me to agree to give her one to eat in the morning.

Hey, I did make her wait until after breakfast. But Easter is a day to eat junk at times you don't usually get to. I ate a half pound of See's chocolates. Really.

And some felted wool toys I made.

The two eggs are rattles for Brother. And a cracked egg with a bunny for Sadie.

And here's the bunny out of its egg.

And, yes, I am aware that bunnies do not come from eggs. Creative license, people.

Happy Spring, Everyone!

My Dose is Duffed

Try having a conversation about Alvin and the Chipmunks when you're sick and can barely talk through the phlegm. With a three year old. It goes something like this:

Mama, who is that little hamster?

Those aren't hamsters, that's Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Who? (intelligible gibberish) and the chickups?

No, hon, Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Alpbin and the Chickups?

No, Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Mama! What!?

Aal-Vin and the CHIP-MUNKS.

Alpbin and the Chickens?

Yep. That's right!

I give up.

The Week in Pictures 2

Raisin-walnut bread

The cutest cookies ever! Made by Grammy.

Eating them.

Fat's Stats

Silas had his 6 month check up yesterday.

Yes, yes, I know he's 7 months. But it was still his 6 month check up.

He's 28.75 inches.

He's 22 pounds 11 ounces.

AT 7 MONTHS. Holy mercy.

My aching back. I'm so sorry, Back. One day I'll make it up to you.

He got a clean bill of health from the doctor.

And I got some big, fat, back-relieving, prescription ibuprofen pills.

I kid you not.

It must have been the pact with Satan...

No, I didn't win the Zigo contest. Well, maybe I did, but it hasn't ended yet.

But I did just score a brand-spanking new Zigo off of Craigslist for less than half the price. So thanks for all your universe asking, well-wishes, prayers and hopefully not pact-with-the-devil-making!

Pictures to come soon.

No, it's MY Zigo

So, as I've no doubt blathered on to some of you, the bike I really want is more money than I have. I have been saving, and saving, and saving, but I just can't reach my goal of enough dang money.

This is likely due to the fact that my lousy kids demand things such as food and electricity. What don't those little buggers want?!

Anyway, I have entered several contests over the last months to win a Zigo. And, because I have never won anything in my life, I should know this is a futile attempt. But you get an extra entry if you post about it on your blog. So here I am. Posting.

Go check out the handsome Zigo at MyZigo. And the contest at Jolly Mom, Rave and Review & Monkeys.

This is not to say that I don't love old Trikey. 'Cause I really do:

There we are in our glory days.

It's just that this fella came along:

And there ain't no room at the Trikey Inn.

So, anyway, cross your fingers, say a prayer, make a wish, light a candle, make a pact with Satan...well, not that last one...that maybe, just maybe, if the universe wants to smile upon my non-contest winning soul, I can win this awesome bike.

But don't hold your breath. Judging by my past performance in contests, I like you too much to make you not breathe forever.

The Week in Pictures

So I have a vision. That every Sunday (or Saturday or Monday) I will post a "Week in Pictures" post.

You know, all those pictures I want to post but can't actually think of a post that is coherent, interesting or well thought out. That's sounds like I'm saying that my posts usually are those things, isn't it? Um...

At first I thought I would just post pictures and let y'all suss it out. But we all know I'm pretty much incapable of keeping my blogging trap shut, so I've amended that to include a comment or two. Or eight.

But I'll try to let the pictures speak for themselves. Or not.

Here goes:

Future plums.

Best soda bread I ever made. Recipe.

Ready for planting.

Um, so NOT ready for planting.

Grass feels good!

Yum.

Puzzles.

BFFS 4EVA.

I Know I'm His Mother And All...

But, seriously, he is so cute.

I mean, truly A-freakin-dorable.

His fat cheeks just scream Nibble me! when he smiles.

I just can't get over his deliciousness.

And it's a good thing.

'Cause, man oh man, he doesn't sleep worth a damn.

Top O' The Morning

We went and got Sadie all worked up about the possibility of catching a leprechaun last night. After all, if you catch a leprechaun you get all his gold.
And who doesn't want a big ol' pot of gold?

So we made a trap.
And we baited it with...what else? Irish soda bread.


And then we waited.
And, yes, the trap is a cup on a string, looped over a chair. But it worked. When you picked up the soda bread it fell. And, by God, that was about all Sadie & I were capable of yesterday.

This morning I asked if she was ready to check out our trap.
You go, said Sadie, I don't want to. I'll wait here in the bathroom.

She was totally scared to check.

Who knew I'd scar her for life with talk of leprechauns?

He had escaped, but left her some booty for trying.

And from what I hear he really expected to get to the bank for some gold dollar coins. But he didn't. And he really doesn't even have a good excuse. Except it's another two-children-out-of-the-car-stop. And leprechauns are notoriously lazy.

He did turn the juice and toilet water green. Which completely erased the scarred-for-life moment. Now she can't wait to do it again.

Matzo Ball Soup

We took a book about matzo ball soup out of the library.

Well, the book was pretty wordy and sort of pointless. Sadie actually declared, for the first time ever, That book was random, after we read it. But it left us with a hankerin' for matzo ball soup.

And that's a hankerin' you must not deny.

We didn't have enough matzo ball mix left, so we ran out to Fred Meyer. I thought it might be a long shot but, lo and behold, they had matzo ball mix! They even had gefilte fish. It blew my mind.

And it was great, because I can't imagine a world in which my child doesn't know about matzo ball soup.

You know, because I'm half Jewish.

Well, yeah, okay, I'm not...

But my step-half is Jewish. So half my heart is Jewish.

And I think if you grow up with more Jewish grandparents than you have non-Jewish grandparents you are automatically required to pass down the traditions.

And, hey, I say things like Oy Gevalt! and tuchus and can still recite the Hanukkah prayer by heart.

And, let me tell you, we make a mean matzo ball soup.

Especially for a couple of Shiksas.

Does letting your kid eat the remainder of the marshmallow fluff out of the container with a spoon mean that you're not crunchy?

If so, I'm doomed.

Chompers

A tooth for Baby Boy! A bottom one.

He had been sleeping MISERABLY the last few nights and I thought we were back at the worst of the colic. Screaming all evening and carrying on.

It didn't even occur to me that he was teething. Duh.

In my defense I will say that he had the same almost-tooth-bump on his gum in that spot for a month or more. I gave up waiting.

Anyway, a tooth! And now, hopefully, sleep!

Baby-Led Eating

As some of you may remember, I did what's called Baby-Led Weaning with Sadie.

Due to both liking the idea behind it and the fact that she karate-chopped any sort of feeding implement that came anywhere near her mouth, it was a perfect fit.

Sadie basically never even had yogurt until she was old enough to get it in her mouth by herself. That's how anti-spoon she was. God forbid you even thought about offering something on a spoon.

I would give her big chunks of soft foods and she would feed herself, eating as much or as little as she wanted. She would squish and smash and have great fun. Messy, yes, but supposedly BLW lets them decide when they are full, encourages earlier ability to manage larger pieces of food, and is a fun exploration. I liked it, she liked it, and all was right with the world.

I was sure Silas would do BLW too.

Enter Silas. The baby who likes to be fed with a spoon.

The baby who does enjoy feeding himself sometimes.

Until he drops the piece of food.

Then all hell breaks loose.

You see, when he drops it (as all babies do, you just give it back to them or they pick it up themselves) he is so mortally offended that he turns purple and starts screaming.

He is so angry that he has to get out of his high chair immediately and won't eat anything else.

And he does really want to eat. He loves food.

If you both give him a chunk and feed him with a spoon he is much happier. Yes, he still gets upset when he drops it, but you can give him a bite off the spoon, quick, and he'll calm down.

Food in mouth. Food good.

He slurps stuff right off the spoon. He loves the spoon.

The spoon is his best friend. Sometimes he shows no interest in the big chunks. He folds his chubby little hands together like a gentleman and sweetly spoon-slurps.

So I've followed his lead.

And that, my friends, may not be Baby-Led Weaning, but it is Baby-Led Eating.

Oh What A Beautiful Morning

It was 65 degrees and sunny the other day.

So we pulled out the picnic mat.

And got us some vitamin D.

We played in the grass. We smiled.

Some of us were introduced to bubbles.

And some of us were reacquainted with our love of bubbles.

One of us ran back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

And one of us decided it would be a perfect time to read a book lying in the sun. While both kids were occupied.
Heaven.