Totten Tales

Happy Valentine's Day!

2012-02-14T11:23:00.000-08:00

Happier Food Critic

2012-01-25T21:00:00.000-08:00

...but fortunately sweet potatoes:

and carrots:

ARE fabulous!

Food Critic

2012-01-19T12:30:00.000-08:00

Rice cereal: apparently not so fabulous.

Next Stop, Broadway

2012-01-18T19:13:00.000-08:00

Tonight at dinner:

Abby has had her sweet potatoes and is done being trapped in her chair, so Bret holds her while Gabe and I finish eating.

Bret sits Abby up on top of his head and asks Gabe, "Hey do I have a baby on my head?" Gabe is eating and smiling looking at Abby on Bret's head but doesn't answer, so Bret turns to me and says "Babe, do I have a baby on my head?"

I look above Bret's head for a few seconds and say "Uh, no" and turn away. Then a few seconds later I turn back and say "Oh, but you have an Abby on your head!"

Gabe starts laughing and says loudly "Mama, you funny!"

So obviously I am quitting my job and we are moving to Hollywood so I can be discovered!

"Mama, what yong?"

2012-01-16T11:28:00.000-08:00

In our dining room a little while ago:

Gabe: "Mama, cack!" (Let me interpret: "Mama, snack!")

Me: "Ok, go get in your chair. You can have the rest of your yogurt from breakfast."

Gabe: "Fyacks?" ("Flax?" ...my mom started giving him flax on his yogurt a year (ish) ago and now he requests it whenever I suggest yogurt to eat. In fact, he will eat a couple of the top bites of yogurt with the flax on it and then request more...Bret has started asking him if he wants yogurt with his meal of flax!)

Me: "Yes, I'll put more flax on it." So I go about getting him his yogurt/flax and then sit down at my laptop with him eating at one end of the table and Abby happily spitting up on her bib at the other. I decide that since I haven't been on Facebook for a while, I will log on and peruse through the 7 million comments about the snow. (note - I underestimated, it was 8 million) In the course of my Facebooking, I saw a comment from someone I went to junior high with and said aloud, "I'm friends with him? I didn't know that." And then from his page I rabbit trailed to the page of someone else I was in band with in high school, and after looking through a few pictures and contemplating the strangeness of 20 years having passed since high school, I said aloud in a reflective manner: "Wow. Oh my gosh."

Gabe's response: "Mama, what yong?" ("Mama, what's wrong?")

I tell ya...I really think God gave two-year-olds the capacity for extra adorableness to combat their penchant for tantrums and the desire to wage epic battles.

Enjoying his "cack" of "yo-guut" and "fyacks"

Since he has a tendency to pose for pictures now with his eyes squinted
shut, I asked him to open his eyes for this shot...this is what I got!

Cautionary Tale

2012-01-13T23:59:00.000-08:00

Tonight I was still inside Target at 10:55 pm. I went out to run a couple of errands after the kids went to bed and since I was blissfully alone without an infant or a toddler to keep entertained, I was taking my time and pointlessly browsing the store. You don't realize what a luxury pointless browsing is until you haven't done it in a while.

Finally, at 10:57 pm I decided I should go up to the front to check out. Being (for the most part) a rule-follower means that if I were to actually wait until they announced that it was 11:00 pm and the store was now closed before I went up front, I would feel both irresponsible for waiting until the last minute and anxious that they would tell me that they weren't going to allow me to buy anything since the store was now closed.

As I'm walking toward the front, I hear someone say "Just to let you know, we're closing in a couple of minutes". I turn, thinking they're talking to me and ready to reply that I'm headed out, when I hear someone say in response "I know - can you direct me to the baby section? This is an emergency run...she can't find her blanket and she won't go to sleep without it. I need one with a silky edge and it has to be big."

My first reaction was completely judgmental: 'Wow lady, your kid is WAY too attached to that blanket if you're making a trip to the store at 11:00 pm for a replacement.'

On the heels of my reaction was an echo of Gabe's voice in my mind, asking for his "bappie": his blanket with minky dot fabric on one side that he likes to rub his face on. His blanket that when he bumps against something or otherwise gets hurt, he immediately asks for and runs to get and then touches his blanket to the spot that's hurt as if it has magical healing powers. His blanket that he faithfully hands to me first each morning before climbing into our bed to cuddle.

And then I realized: 'Wow lady, your kid is way too attached to that blanket.'

Because Bret told me last week that...

2012-01-10T23:09:00.000-08:00

...he was having a bad day at work and checked our blog to look at pictures, but was disappointed that I hadn't posted anything new in a month.

So Babe, this post is for you:

Gabe showing off one of his "houses"

Our smiley 4 month old, growing up so fast!

Long-arm shot from Christmas Day. I like this one
because the shirt you got me brings out my eyes.
Good job on the Christmas shopping!

But I think I like this one better because:
a) my head doesn't look so huge, and
b) you have a snowflake coming out of your head

Gabe diggin' his new Cars t-shirt.

Damage to the roof after the New Year's Day windstorm, which you spent your holiday off work fixing.

So there you go...next time you have a bad day and come here looking for a boost to your spirits, remember that you have:

- an endlessly entertaining toddler who thinks you're the coolest thing ever

- a wife who laughs at your jokes (usually), doesn't mind losing ping pong games to you (sort of), and who thinks you're the bees knees (always!)

- an adorable baby girl who one day soon will consistently sleep through the night and stop spitting up (right????)

...and that you are the kind of guy who can fix his own roof after a windstorm. Shazam!

Love you babe!

Mr. Gabe Head and Mrs. Abby Head

2011-12-09T15:30:00.000-08:00

"No mas!" When I first heard this Gabe-ism, my first thought was whether we'd watched any children's shows lately that taught Spanish. I kept trying to figure out if the context of the situation made sense for him to be telling me "no more"...then I finally figured out that he was talking about his Mr. Potato Head's mustache.

Of course. "No mas" = mustache

Don't know why I didn't catch that faster. (???)

Gabe's favorite thing to do with his Mr. Potato Head ("Ho head" or "Ho-ho head") is to put the pieces on his own head. This is a favorite look of Mr. Gabe Head's:

This morning while I was doing my hair, I had Abby in her seat in the bathroom doorway and Gabe was playing back and forth between his room and the hall. At one point I looked down and saw this*:

Hilarious.

*this picture is a re-creation. By the time I ran downstairs to get my phone to take a picture to send to Bret, Abby had de-mustached herself. I tried to get Gabe to put it back on, but he had moved on to putting Mr. Potato Head's arm into the slot for his hat. So, I had to try to capture Gabe's artistic flair on my own. I have to say that I don't think I did it justice.

What Gabe Said

2011-12-08T12:00:00.000-08:00

Yesterday Gabe and I went to the dentist, and Gabe got a new toothbrush which he saw sitting on the kitchen table this morning. He got very excited ("Tees!" {teeth} "Open!") and I told him we could open it after breakfast. Then I asked him what he wanted for breakfast. His answer: "Too-pace!" {toothpaste}

Earlier this morning while I was feeding Abby, he was playing with his football and running around the living room falling down like he was being tackled and yelling "Ta-down!" {touchdown} After one of them, he came up to me and very earnestly said "Heh-mut" {helmet} ...as in, apparently he needs to be wearing his bike helmet like football players have helmets.

I didn't even know he knew the words toothpaste and helmet...although I'm not sure why that surprises me since we use them and it seems like every day he comes out with a word or two (or three or four or ...) that I haven't heard him say before.

The Pros call it "Table Tennis"

2011-11-29T21:52:00.001-08:00

Bret and I have been talking about getting a ping pong table for several years, but the conversation has never seriously gone anywhere because of space constraints. This last weekend, though, I think the onset of the winter doldrums got to Bret because on Sunday around noon, he says to me: "I want a ping pong table."

So I say my usual: "You're willing to give up the other half of your garage for this?" (one half is already taken up by a trailer)

But this time he responded with a simple, unequivocal: "Yep!"

So I said: "Ok, get on craigslist and let's see what's out there."

8 minutes later we'd emailed in response to an ad for a free table.

A mere 9 1/2 hours later we were back at home with our new FREE* ping pong table!

Isn't craigslist grand?

It was too late to play on Sunday night when we got home, so last night we bundled up the kids and headed out to the garage after dinner. We set Abby up in her swing in front of a heater and Gabe ran around us playing with his dinosaur set and generally trying to get underfoot.

So far we are tied at 2 games a piece. We're pretty well matched - at least when Bret's not trying to perfect his slam/spike move on me. He says he needs to practice so that he can beat his dad & brother next time they're over...they grew up with a ping pong table and apparently there are some old rivalries just waiting to be resurrected. My family also had a table when I was a teenager, and I remember Dad & Paul playing a few epic games that included big slam/spike moves. Whenever either of them would do that in a game with me I would get SO mad and whine "I don't want to play if you're going to play like that!". It should be noted that I have already whined this to Bret at least twice.

Abby was all smiles for about 5 minutes, then fell asleep.
Apparently we did not play games interesting enough for
her to stay awake for!

Gabe emptied the contents of his dinosaur box and kept us extra nimble as we tried not to trip over him.

Yes, these are pictures of us with our ping pong table.

What? Is that strange?

*In the interest of full disclosure I will share that the table was located in Olympia, 2 hours away from our house, so there was an extra tank of gas required...however - since we all went to pick it up together, it's really just like we went on a Sunday drive and came back with a ping pong table!

I Sure Love This Kid.

2011-11-21T22:30:00.001-08:00

Animal Instinct

2011-11-09T15:54:00.000-08:00

The first time I held Abigail, I had an overwhelming urge to put my nose on her face. Specifically, to touch my nose to her nose.

yeah, I'll just let that sink in a minute.

...I don't recall being conscious of the urge at the time; it was only hours later that I realized as I held her, I kept putting my nose on her face. Looking at her, studying her, and then touching my nose to her. Not smelling her, but just touching her.

She's almost two and half months old and I still find myself doing this. And I don't think I can fully describe the need that's behind it. It's instinctive, it's basic, and usually I find myself thinking "weird, I just did it again!" because it's not something that happens with forethought.

Is it just me? Is it just Abby? I don't recall doing this when Gabe was a baby...although now we do Eskimo Kisses (i.e. rub noses) as part of bedtime routine hugs and kisses goodnight, so maybe I did do it with Gabe and I just never noticed it or thought it was unusual.

Oh My Goodness - have I nosed YOUR baby while holding it?? How far does this strangeness go?

And if I never did it with Gabe or with other random babies, why now with Abby?

I have wondered if it is my subconscious way of connecting with her and reiterating: "you are mine".

I have wondered if it's because Abby looks so different from Gabe (dark rather than fair). In fact, when they placed her on my stomach, my first thought was "wait a second - I don't have dark-haired babies". Even though we said all through the pregnancy that she would probably take after Bret because Gabe took after me, my first reaction upon seeing her was surprise because Gabe and his coloring had set the standard for "how my babies look".

I have wondered if I'm just really, really odd.

I have wondered how many times I've done this while in public and whether anyone was watching and thinking "Did she just NOSE her baby?!?". And then I have decided that I don't care, and that it probably gave them a good laugh.

I have wondered when (if?) I'll ever stop.

C'mon...tell me you don't want to put your nose on that face!

October Fest-ivities

2011-11-02T01:03:00.000-07:00

...we made our now traditional family trip to the Corn Maze:

Our fearless leader!

Gabe has no time for a family picture, he's seen the exit!

These two are so cute I can hardly stand it!

Don't we all look strangely happy about getting lost in a bunch of corn?

The farm we went to also had a Trike Track with various John Deere trikes and bikes for the "kids" to ride on.

...and this year we got our pumpkins from Grandma and Grandpa's pumpkin farm! My parents put a pumpkin patch in their lower backyard and got something like 20 pumpkins from it!

Searching for the perfect pumpkin

Found it!

Gabe picking out Bret's pumpkin - doesn't it look like he's laughing because "Daddy's pumpkin is smaller than mine!" ?

We picked the white pumpkins for mine & Abby's

...and for Halloween, Gabe was a very unhappy elephant. He did NOT want to wear his costume and whined the whole time I was getting him dressed and ready to go trick-or-treating with Bret. Abby and I stayed home to pass out candy, and I was attempting to get a few pictures of her in her ballerina skirt when she decided to have a major diaper blowout all over herself and me. Talk about an eventful evening!

This is from the day we bought the costume and were trying it on to make sure it fit. Gabe had the most dramatic slumped over posed the whole time I was trying to get a picture...apparently the idea of having to dress up to get candy is very emotionally taxing for a toddler.

But, of course, once he was back home in his sweats and looking at a pile of candy, all was once again right with the world!

Abby in her skirt when I bought it - didn't get any good pictures on Halloween.

Dear Children

2011-10-24T15:24:00.000-07:00

I just wanted to let you know that you both don't actually need to have poopy diapers twice a day for me to be aware that your bowels are in good working order. I would be fine with once a day.

Gosh, I would even be okay with once every other day.

Just rest assured that I am in no way worried about either of your bowels, so you don't need to keep proving to me multiple times every day that you're processing food efficiently. I've gotten the message.

Love,

Your Mother

The adorable reasons we are going through babywipes at an alarming rate.

Two

2011-10-18T22:46:00.000-07:00

Hard to believe that Gabe turned two today. So cliche, but really, where does the time go? I remember so much of the day I had him so clearly...and now he's so grown up and he both frustrates and delights me daily. I suppose I will always feel like time has moved in impossible leaps and bounds when it comes to the kids.

We celebrated with family on Sunday and the biggest hit out of all of his presents was the soft football I picked up for $1 at Target. Of course!

He even blew out the candle on his cake by himself!

We sure do you love you, Gabe!

Just put him on repeat....and rollover.

2011-10-13T14:00:00.000-07:00

This is the conversation I have with Gabe 8 (thousand) times a day, starting as as early as 6:00 AM:

Gabe: "Daddy?"

Me: "He's at work, buddy."

Gabe: "Me?"

Me: "Sorry, buddy, you're too young to go to work."

Gabe: "Oh."

As the day goes on, Gabe's part of the conversation gets more urgent and my part of the conversation sounds more and more like a recorded message:

Gabe: "Daddy, Daddy?!?"

Me: "At work."

Gabe: "Me, me?!?!"

Me: "You can't work."

Gabe: "Oh."

Toward the end of the day, I start to amuse myself by providing long answers, in an attempt to see if it will change the course of our dialogue:

Gabe: "Daddy?"

Me: "Sorry, buddy, he's at work. Daddy goes to work and helps people with their computer problems. Sometimes their hard drives are fried, or their programs lock up, or sometimes people do silly things like just forget to plug things in all the way. Daddy's got some pretty good stories about the different calls he gets. You should ask him about them sometime."

Gabe waits for me to finish talking and then says: "Me?"

Me: "Well you can't work buddy, you're too young. In some countries I could send you off to work but here that would be illegal. I guess you could consider it 'work' when I make you pick up your toys...but then again, is that really 'work' or is it just teaching responsible toy ownership? I would say it's the latter. What do you think?"

Gabe: "Oh."

The kid definitely has a one track mind when it comes to the whereabouts of Bret.

In other news, Abby rolled over (front to back) for the first time last Thursday! Gabe's solution to tummy time was to fuss and whine and bury his face in the blanket until I took pity on him and declared tummy time over. Abby's solution is to take matters into her own hands and in short order she's usually flipped over and THEN starts fussing to be picked up. Guess she thinks her fussing will make a bigger impact if I can see her sad little face. Unfortunately for me, she's usually right. I'm such a sucker.

One Month

2011-09-30T23:32:00.000-07:00

My my how the time does fly! Abby has been here for a month already so I decided it was time to get serious about doing a blog post since all attempts up until this point have been thwarted.

This post promises to be all sorts of random and disjointed but I'm more interested in actually getting this written than it making a whole lot of sense so here goes:

Getting induced took longer than I hoped it would. It took a while to get things going, though it was cool because I didn't really feel contractions or discomfort until I was at 6 centimeters. From the time I had to concentrate on breathing through a contraction until Abby was born was only 2 1/2 hours. My description of my childbirth experience with Gabe was that "natural childbirth chose me, rather than me really choosing it", because of how fast things went. This time around with Abby, I wanted the opportunity to choose to go natural. I definitely chose it, but I sure didn't fully remember how much childbirth hurts. Wow.

Anyway - Abigail Anne was born at 8:28 pm on August 30. These are some pictures taken by a photographer that's contracted w/the hospital to do newborn photos. Abby is about 16 hours old in these pictures.

Abby was born weighing 7 lbs 10 oz - almost 2 pounds heavier than Gabe's birth weight of 5 lbs 14 oz. I was looking back through Gabe's growth chart and he weighed 7 lbs 10 oz when he was a month old. Crazy.

Abby prefers to be held, and usually me holding her gets the fastest calming results. This makes getting anything else done quite a challenge. I don't remember Gabe needing/wanting to be held as much, but then again both Bret and I were home for the first several months to share parenting duties whereas this time around Bret's back at work sooner and so I'm with a toddler and an infant on my own. For the first few weeks, I thought "holy cow how do people DO this with more than one kid??" at least a hundred times a day. My brother and sister-in-law have 4 kids that are a total of 4 1/2 years apart in age. Yeesh! So if ever I need a reality check, I think of Mandy when her kids were 4 1/2, 2 1/2, 1 1/2, and a newborn, and suddenly my two kids don't seem quite so overwhelming!

It also occurred to me a few days ago that Abby's wanting to be held will be something that in the future just becomes part of her story. We will talk about how I slept sitting up holding her for the first couple of weeks, and how even after that she slept better when she was sleeping next to me than in her playpen. When she sleeps alone she is LOUD...wheezing (the doctor says her lungs are crystal clear but she must have nose congestion because she wheezes and snuffles constantly) and squeaking and loudly sucking on her pacifier...but when she is next to me she doesn't even wheeze most of the time. So, I think she goes into a deeper sleep when she's snuggled. Anyway - it was sort of a cool realization about this being part of her story and it helped me think of it in a new way instead of just being frustrated about all the things I feel like I can't get done because my arms are full of baby. Bret and I have talked about how with Gabe, we didn't know what to expect so his development just came as it happened (if that makes sense). Now we know how much more fun kids get as they grow up, so we feel antsy to get past this infant stage. I feel bad because I really don't want to rush past this time since I know I will be so nostalgic for it later.

Speaking of which, she is asleep on my chest as I write this and she's starting to stir and will want to eat soon, so I will leave you with a few more pictures:

Taken just a couple of days ago.

Watching cartoons with Daddy.

Abby has a blonde patch of hair on the left side of her head. I consider it "my" patch of DNA.

Reading "I Love You, Daddy" before bed.

Bittersweet

2011-08-29T21:37:00.000-07:00

Tonight my chest is collapsing and expanding at the same time.

I am scheduled to be induced tomorrow morning.

He will no longer be the baby.

And she will join our family.

I think I'll be lucky if I manage to get any sleep tonight.

There's Nothing Quite Like...

2011-08-26T11:52:00.000-07:00

...the look on someone's face when they look at your very pregnant belly and ask you "So when are you due?" and you respond with "Today." The expression of surprise mixed with a slight trace of fear, as if they think you might suddenly double over in pain at the onset of a fierce contraction and they might end up having to be your labor support person, is really quite entertaining to see.

In fact, perhaps the only thing more entertaining is when they ask you "So when are you due?" and you get to respond with "Yesterday." Their eyes get wider, the traces of fear on their face get more pronounced, and they usually make some sort of nervous giggling sound or exclaim "OH!" loudly.

I can hardly wait for tomorrow's reactions!

Case In Point.

2011-08-22T21:48:00.000-07:00

Remember in my last post where I mentioned how having a kid or being pregnant has resulted in more conversations with strangers in the past couple of years than in all the years before that?

Case in point, the following two strange(r) moments happened on Sunday:

1) Sunday mid-morning, just inside Lowe's, loading Gabe into one of their racecar carts. An old man walks past, looks at me and my belly and says: "You'd better not be heading too far from town young lady!" (note: because he was a cute old man in a straw hat, I chose to hear "You look like you're ready to have that baby anytime!" rather than "Wow you're HUGE!")

2) Sunday after an early dinner, we drove into town to get ice cream and go to the park. Standing in Baskin Robbins, waiting to order, an older lady comes up to us and says "I was sitting in my car outside the window and I just had to come in and tell you - your little boy reminds me so much of my grandson who just turned 13 this weekend!" (note: because she was a cute older lady who was reminiscing about her grandson, I chose to hear "I just had to share my walk down memory lane with you!" rather than "I've been sitting in my car watching you guys for a while...")

I've Grown Accustomed to Her Feet...

2011-08-13T23:55:00.000-07:00

...her little kicks and tiny nudges.
I've grown accustomed to the bathroom that
I frequent night and noon.
My smiles, my tears,
My hopes, my fears
Are second nature to me now;
Like breathing out and breathing in.
I used to sleep through the night without a toss or a turn;
Surely I can be that way again -
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her hiccups;
Accustomed to her wiggles;
Accustomed to her feet.
(with sincere apologies to Alan Lerner for modifying his song lyrics from the My Fair Lady song of the same title)

Over the course of this pregnancy, I've thought a lot about the fact that this is most likely the last time I will be pregnant. It's sort of strange to think that when I was pregnant with Gabe, everything was new and "the first" experience, and now just a short time later everything is comparison and trying to remember if it's the same or different from being pregnant previously and it's "the last" experience.

There are a bunch of things I want to write down about how I feel lately so that I remember:

I was hit recently by the feeling that I'm not ready to have the baby. Meaning - I'm not ready to not ever be pregnant again. I'm not ready to not know what it's like to feel life moving inside me. I'm not ready to stop having the very odd experience that is talking to random strangers about the personal details of my life. I swear I've talked to more people in the past two and a half years since I got pregnant with Gabe than I had in the cumulative 34.5 years up to that point. And the things you find yourself saying/hearing! It's so odd! A few months ago a Starbucks employee asked me how far along I was, and 10 minutes later we were still discussing kids and she was giving me her opinion on our name choice for our daughter (she informed me that she approved...whew. no telling what kind turmoil it might've caused had she not).

On Wednesday I thought I might be going into labor and I first felt this surprising sense of peace...like even though it was 2 weeks early and I still have a ton to do at work, it is what it is and I can't stop it if it's going to happen. Then I immediately thought "but even so...not ready to have a baby today". And then over the course of the rest of this week it's been this growing emotional feeling that I haven't appreciated this last time around nearly enough; that I'm not ready for pregnancy to be a memory. And that I'm not ready for Gabe to not be my baby anymore. I'm not ready to figure out how to split my attention between two kids. Right now Gabe is so much the focus of our lives...his needs, his antics, the new things he's doing. There's a part of me that's sad that our attention will be divided now. And yet, I think that's healthy. We wanted more than one child - we wanted siblings for them so that they would have each other growing up and once we were gone. But still - this little girl being my baby means that Gabe isn't my baby anymore. Lately when I look at him I see such a little boy - how does time go so fast?

I wish we had the ability to revisit periods in our lives for a day or a two and that it wasn't just a linear path of experiences lived and then relegated to memory. I would go back to when I moved to California by myself and felt simultaneously so aware of being alone and yet so independent and proud of myself for stepping into the unknown. I would revel for a few hours in the fact that back then the only person I was responsible for was me. I would appreciate it more because I would know that never again would I have that experience, including the loneliness of that experience. I would appreciate the things I learned about myself during that time. I would go back to the night when Bret and I were talking in the parking lot of the church after bible study and it took us 3 hours to talk ourselves around to the point of "declaring" our interest in dating each other. I would re-live the stomach-dropping roller coaster of thoughts and feelings and remember how I so wanted to stay and find out if we were really both saying what it sounded like we were saying, and how at the same time there were a couple points in the beginning of the conversation where I just wanted to stop talking and go so we could keep things safe and friendly between us because I was sure there was no way he could be feeling how I was feeling. I would appreciate it more because I would know that that particular feeling of exhilaration and anticipation would never be something that could be duplicated again. I would appreciate it more because I would be able to relax and enjoy it and not be so nervous, knowing that I was really standing there talking to my future husband and the father of my children. I would go back to the first positive pregnancy test I took and remember that feeling of "oh wow, so I guess this is really happening then, we're really starting our family". I would appreciate it more because I would know that 9 months actually passes quite quickly, even though while you're in the midst of it it seems like it's lasting as long as an elephant's pregnancy (which is 22 months; I Google'd it so you don't have to...guess I'm just a considerate blogger like that).

Honestly, sometimes I really think I'm way too sentimental for this life. I think it's quite likely that I'll spend my twilight years in a retirement home looking at pictures, boring people with my memories, and crying over how "nothing is the same as it used to be".

Anyway. The funny part is, Bret texted me from work on Wednesday morning (after I told him I thought I might be feeling something early labor-like) and it said "I'm ready to get our new baby girl". Classic. I am one big pile of emotions, feeling everything and anything, and Bret is practical as ever, ready to tackle our next adventure.

So, since this will most likely be my last post until our daughter joins us sans womb (unless I somehow find some motivation to actually start posting all the drafts I've started but haven't finished), I will end this post with a few last pictures of us as a family of three. These were taken last weekend at Echo Falls (where we got married) for our anniversary picture (yes we got married in June, yes we were late taking this year's picture...we were late taking last year's picture...are you sensing a trend here?).

And then...a few days later I convinced Bret to stop again on the way home from my birthday dinner and take a couple pictures of me and my soon-to-be-gone baby bump because we haven't taken as many belly shots this time around, and because I was wearing the same maternity shirt that I wore when we took anniversary pictures when I was pregnant with Gabe, so I thought that'd be fun to have pictures of both pregnancies in the same place in the same outfit.

Baby Gender Reveal Bunko

2011-07-26T09:46:00.000-07:00

This is a picture of the hand of my daughter:

Yes, this is the same daughter that is due in about 4 weeks.

Yes, the date at the top of the picture says April 8.

And yes, once again, apparently the ultrasound folks feel the need to label the picture ("HAND") so that I don't think crazy-hormone-induced thoughts like "What IS that thing in there? A broom?!? A tail?!?".

This is one of those catch-up posts that I really needed to do a long time ago, especially at the rate I am accumulating new catch-up posts. Wouldn't it be nice if I was all caught up before the HAND we're expecting on August 25 arrives? Maybe this will mean that my catch-up posts will be more concise and efficient instead of my usual rambling prose.

Wait - who are we kidding...what it more likely means is that I will stay up way too late on way too many nights so that I feel caught up on documenting our happenings for the blog book I am one day doing to get printed since I don't really journal anymore since journaling doesn't include pictures and makes my hand cramp up and makes me think grumpy things like "ARGH! Writing is so SLOW! I wish I could be typing!". The sad thing is, I love journals. I love the excitement that comes with finding a journal with a really cool cover and how all those blank pages are just waiting for deep thoughts and poignant memories to be placed within. If only I could type into a journal.

What was I saying about more efficiency and less rambling? Right. Just as I suspected.

So anyway - we found out in early April that said HAND I am carrying is female, and I had decided that a fun way to share the news with our extended families would be to have a Bunko party with the theme of revealing the baby's gender. Everyone was to dress in blue or pink to indicate their gender guess, and the winners of the traditional Bunko categories (most wins, most Bunkos, etc.) would win more money if they also guessed the gender right.

Christina and Great Aunt Dode represented their picks in full head-to-toe fabulousness:

And much to my surprise, we actually had a pretty equal number of people guessing each gender.

The boy Guessers, holding their consolation prize chocolate cigars:

And the girl Guessers, holding their 'you-guessed-it-right' prize chocolate cigars:

If you're saying to yourself "wait a second, that's mother-in-law Mary in BOTH pictures! I declare foul play!" then let me reassure you that she was not playing the odds and trying to broaden her chances of winning additional Bunko loot by switching her guess back and forth. She came representing guesses for both her and my father-in-law. And besides, she's the grandmother of our little female HAND, so there are special rules in play. (For the record, and to document on Wayne's behalf, his guess was girl and Mary's was boy, and he was right. Which I'm sure he didn't tease her about or gloat over being right about like I probably would have smugly done to Bret, because we have only been married for 4 years and my in-laws have been married for 38. Although, I suspect I will still gloat over guessing things right even when Bret and I have been married that long, because I'm totally non-competitive like that.)

All in all a fun Bunko theme (in my oh-so-not-so-humble opinion).

And did you notice both Christina and Sara in their regular picture poses?

4th of July

2011-07-08T22:32:00.000-07:00

It's hard to tell who enjoyed the holiday more...

...this little boy:

...or this little boy:

All I can really be sure of is that as Gabe gets older, I should probably never let these two go to buy fireworks without either a chaperone or a very strict budget in place.

The little girls across the street shared some of their super-sized sparklers with Gabe:

...and he was a little disconcerted when Bret took his new car and lit it on fire. But once he saw it zoom off
and flip over, he thought it was pretty cool.

Lately Gabe has been giving me this response when I first ask him to smile for a picture:

I think it must be the beginning phase of that fake smile that kids start to do when you say "Say Cheese!" and they look back at you with a sort of forced grimace that they think is the picture smile you want but really it just looks like you're making them eat brussel sprouts. Luckily I can still manage to get a couple good ones out of him -

...especially if Bret's making him laugh.

Moink

2011-06-21T22:20:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I asked Bret what he wanted to eat for Father's Day dinner. His response: "meatballs...wrapped in bacon". It sounded like a rather heart-clogging choice to me, but since it was Father's Day I decided to oblige him. I also decided to Google it to see if I could find a recipe rather than just guessing at cooking times, etc...and this is when I discovered that bacon wrapped meatballs have a name: "moinks" (as in moo + oink). Only, ours were technically "gobbloinks" since I used ground turkey to make the meatballs.

Anyway - I found out yesterday that while I was making Bret moinks, my sister Laura was making my dad "scalloinks" (i.e. bacon wrapped scallops), presented to look like a bouquet of roses. Talk about creative! It put my moink presentation to shame! Also, while browsing moink recipes, I found one for bacon wrapped asparagus that I think I might try soon. Asparoinks? Hmm.

For Father's Day, we (ok, let's be honest...*I*...Gabe, while enthusiastic about helping open presents, is not yet a big help in the way of coming up with gift ideas) got Bret a fun new picture frame and a book from flattenme.com, where you send them a picture of someone and they insert the person's head into illustrations of a story. We (ok, *I*) chose the story "My SuperDad".

Bret said it was "cool but kinda creepy" to see himself in a book like that. Gabe thought it was pretty cool too, until he remembered that there was wrapping paper to be played with that he was neglecting. I am now wondering how I'm going to top this gift next year. Wonder if there's a tie out there that would elicit a response of "cool but kinda creepy"??

Mine

2011-05-31T23:01:00.000-07:00

Tonight I read this post, and of course it made me think of Gabe.

He was just a few months old the first time I realized that someday, he would not be "mine". Meaning - now, as a baby/child, he is "mine". I pick him up when I want, I hug him when I want, I snuggle him when I want. I give him eskimo nose kisses at night, and cuddle him next to me when he wakes up too early and I bring him back to our bed in an effort to convince him that it's still time to be asleep. I have no reservations in my expressions of love for him, verbal or physical - he is "mine".

But someday, he will not be. He will want space and separation and independence. It makes me ache to think about not having him be "mine" in the same way he is now.

The first time I lamented this realization to my mom, she reminded me that this does not happen overnight. The heartbreak I am imagining is not something that comes upon you suddenly so that it leaves a deep wound like the one I fear. Rather, you watch your child grow and take incremental steps into an identity and personhood so that it makes sense that one day you no longer give them eskimo nose kisses before bed.

So - when I read blog posts like the one I read tonight, and I think about Gabe and start crying that someday, all too soon, he will not be "mine", I try to remember what my mom said and remember the sentiment in the post that the joys and sweetness of my son's childhood are to be cherished now rather than dwelling on the sadness of looking ahead to the time when they will be a memory.

And - when I see my parents & Bret's parents with Gabe, I think to myself: someday, I hope, Gabe will have children. And I will once again get to have something that is, though more removed, "mine". I will get to pick those children up when I want, hug them when I want, snuggle them when I want. And it will be that much sweeter because it is a remembered joy and because I will get to see Gabe as a parent, doing the same thing.

From Bret's Childhood...

2011-05-23T22:32:00.000-07:00

Last Spring we got a random message on our voicemail: someone from near Eatonville (2 hrs away from us) had a child's rocking chair that she was wondering if belonged to Bret and if he wanted it back. I listened to the message and then said something to Bret along the lines of "some lady just left us a message saying she has a rocking chair with your name on the bottom of it, how weird is that?" and Bret responded with "oh yeah, I remember that chair".

HUH??

Turns out that Bret had the little rocking chair from when he was a kid, but then his family had a house fire and moved and the chair turned into one of those "what ever happened to that?" items.

So I called the lady back and said yes, she had the right person and yes, we'd love to have the chair! She didn't remember how she'd gotten it, but there's a plaque glued to the bottom with Bret's name on it and she'd been looking in the yellow pages and online trying to find the right person to give it back to. Pretty cool of her!

...this is the part of the story where time passes...and I think I lose the lady's phone number but then I find it, pretty much exactly where I thought I'd put it but under some other stuff...and we call the lady back and it's no problem, the chair is right where she had it before, just waiting for us to come get it whenever we have time...only at this point a year has gone by and we decide that we should just make the drive to go get the chair rather than wait until we're "in the area", because obviously we are never just going to be conveniently passing by...

So now we have the chair and it's pretty beat up but I love that it's something from Bret's childhood that we have now for our kids. And even better - there is a long history associated with this chair. The plaque on the bottom says:

"This chair originally given to Margaret Murphy Countryman by her family (1877-1955). Subsequently by Gertrude Murphy List to Geraldine List Adams. In August of 1975, given to Bret Totten, a great great nephew of Mrs. Countryman."

Geraldine Adams is Bret's maternal grandmother. Such a fun piece of history to have back in our family...I think it's so cool that the Eatonville woman held on to this chair and kept trying to find out who it belonged to!

Gabe in Daddy's chair

Mom, Part II

2011-05-09T15:20:00.000-07:00

Yes, this post is a day after Mother's Day. But last year, my mom didn't read my Mother's Day post until the day after, so my timing this year is just another way to honor her*.

Now that Gabe is almost 19 months old, my understanding of motherhood has increased to a whopping 1.98%**. In fact, I think I can actually round it to 2% since I'm pregnant, and have that added understanding! With this dramatic increase of knowledge (last year my understanding was only calculating to .7%) comes some new thank you's for my mom:

Thank you for every minute of sleep you gave up for me after I started sleeping through the night but then would randomly wake up and it was even harder for you to get up because you were out of practice since I wasn't a newborn anymore. Thank you for every step you helped me take and for the steps you let me take on my own while you held your breath, worried I would fall but knowing that you needed to let me try on my own. Thank you for your patience when I wouldn't eat my vegetables, liked something one day but not the next, and threw food/cups/spoons/bowls on the floor again and again and again. Thank you for every time I'm sure you wanted to yell "STOP THROWING YOUR FOOD ON THE FLOOR" and instead calmly said "Don't throw your food, please". Thank you for every time you pushed through pregnancy-induced tiredness or discomfort to pay attention to what I needed from you. Thank you for taking me outside and making a simple walk into a great adventure. Thank you for always giving me hugs and cuddles. Thank you for every simple task you wanted to get done that turned into a lengthy one because you let me be independent and walk instead of carrying me, or do something myself instead of doing it for me. Thank you for reading with me and helping me learn words. Thank you for praising my accomplishments and providing correction when I needed to learn boundaries. Thank you for enduring my "terrible twos" with grace, love, patience, and keeping in mind the joy that remains even when a toddler is constantly testing limits.

Mom, thank you as always for watching Gabe for us. I hope I say it enough so that you know how much it means to us - not just because it's a huge financial blessing, but because it's an incredible feeling of relief to be able to so completely trust the person caring for your child. And I hope you also know that I'm not just saying that in an effort to butter you up so that you'll keep watching Gabe and Baby #2 in the future (even though I've never kept that desire a secret - remember what I always say, it's only 6 years of your life! And just think of how boring it would be if you only got to do your own thing every day, instead of having to chase a toddler around!)...for as long as it works out, we are ever grateful for the gift of your time and energy in caring for our child(ren).****

Happy Mother's Day Mom, I love you!

* ok, so that's a total line of bull. I just didn't sit myself down at my computer yesterday to write this post.
** Assuming my lifespan is 75 years, and I had Gabe at 35 years old, I will have 40 years alive with Gabe (hopefully more, but I'm explaining my math in this asterisk footnote, so let's not get off track). That's 480 months, and if we assume the average of 2 kids per person that has kids, that's 960 months***. 19 months out of 960 total months is 1.98%
*** Understood that evenly doubling the months isn't accurate, since that assumes that the 2 kids are born at the same time.
**** Was it presumptious to throw the plural in there? Hmm...

2011 MS Walk

2011-04-30T22:30:00.000-07:00

The first weekend of April, we participated in the MS Walk in Seattle for the second year. Bret & Gabe joined us this year, and this year we also decided to take it to the next level and get matching team shirts, rather than just wearing the color of the cause (orange). We designed the shirts online at CustomInk.com and we found a cool syringe graphic to add to our design. After we placed the order, they contacted Laura and donated to our team for the Walk - how cool is that?!?

My dad was diagnosed with the Relapsing-Remitting Course of Multiple Sclerosis in 1995. Our team is "The Sunday Night Injections", named after one of the first medical management responses my dad tried for his MS: an injection of the medication Avonex each Sunday night.

I wanted to be sure Gabe could fit into his shirt for a few years...don't think that'll be a problem!

We made it up on the HuskyTron screen (second team name from the bottom)! Thanks to everyone who donated!!

2010 Photo Book

2011-04-17T22:16:00.000-07:00

I'm going through my pictures from the last couple of months and playing catch up with blog posts. So far I've got 4 blog posts in draft status...we'll see how long it takes me to actually get them published!

Mandy had the idea last Christmas to put together a photo book for my parents & grandparents as a Christmas gift. She asked me, Laura & Christina to contribute pictures we'd taken from the year, and Christina was even able to get pictures of Mom's off of her laptop without her knowing so that the gift could be kept a surprise.

Mandy worked many hours to put together the book and it turned out SO great!! She shipped it to Mom & Dad with a "DO NOT OPEN UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE" note on it, and we figured out a way for me and Christina to both just happen to end up at Mom & Dad's house for dinner one night, where we planned to have them open the Photo Book with all of us there to see it together for the first time. The surprise worked out perfectly because after dinner, Laura and Christina were talking about old Tim Noah songs & videos and Laura found some on YouTube that they were watching. One had a ringing phone in it, which completely disguised the Skype ringer of Mandy calling. Brilliant, Laura!

Mandy did such an awesome job on the book - she'd asked us for pictures and memories from the year, so the book is a fun walk down 2010's memory lane.

Our "seeing the 2010 book" picture, complete with Paul & Mandy on Skype and Mom holding the book...we thought it'd be fun to have this in the 2011 book!

Mandy's hope is to do a book every year - hooray for us!!

Luck o' the Pregnant, Part Deux

2011-04-12T16:05:00.000-07:00

Remember last time I was pregnant, when I took 2nd place in my office's NCAA Basketball Tournament pool? Well there must be something lucky about me and pregnancy (at least when it comes to betting on college basketball), because this year I took first place! And only one of my teams even made it to the Final Four! I'm thinking about writing a how-to guide for all the folks in my office that actually know the teams and stats and players. I think they'd really appreciate my insights.

Auntie Sara's Wedding

2011-04-01T21:48:00.000-07:00

by Gabe Totten

This is my Auntie Sara:

We've had some good times together!

Auntie Sara calls me her "sweet boy" and gives me hugs and snuggles. But then last Thanksgiving I heard her call this guy her "sweet boy" too, and I heard people talking about how they were going to get married.

What?! Married?! You mean I have to share my Auntie Sara's hugs and snuggles? I wasn't so sure how I felt about it.

But then I heard Mommy talking to Auntie Sara and almost-Uncle Jared about how I was going to be in their wedding and I started feeling better about it. After all, it only seemed fitting that both of Auntie Sara's sweet boys should participate in the wedding.

On the evening of the rehearsal I was feeling good (and looking good if I do say so myself).

I gave the paparazzi (a.k.a. Mommy) a chance to photograph me from different angles, I checked out the structural integrity of the church, I showed off my impressive upper body strength...I even helped an older lady up some stairs:

I felt relaxed and ready for the Big Day.

The day of the wedding I showed up at the church excited to put my much-practiced walking-down-the-aisle skills on display.

I even spent some time thinking about what words of wisdom to share with the couple about the meaning of marriage.

Before the ceremony, I tried to relax by just getting back to basics and playing a little music to calm my nerves.

Everything was going really well until Mommy put me into a monkey suit.

Auntie Sara didn't have to wear her shoes, why did I??

And then, to make matters even worse, I had to be in a picture with A GIRL.

I found out that I not only have to share Auntie Sara with Uncle Jared, but with THREE OTHER GIRLS that also call her Auntie Sara!

I'm surrounded!

I was NOT HAPPY about this development.

But luckily, Auntie Sara seemed to remember who her #1 sweet boy is:

For the ceremony, I was in a pretty good mood again and as a gentleman, I let the ladies go first and I hung back a little so I could work the crowd and thank folks for coming out.

By the reception, I had loosened my tie, untucked my shirt, and decided to just have a good time.

I borrowed cousin Jason's Blackberry and called a few buddies to brag about how well the wedding had gone.

Toward the end of the reception, I pulled Uncle Jared aside to let him know he'd better treat Auntie Sara right. Before we talked, I spent a moment seeking guidance from heaven.

Yeah...Uncle Jared's a good guy, even if he does have three nieces and is another "sweet boy" to Auntie Sara. But I told him: I'm still gonna keep my eye on him to make sure he stays in line!

Okay, seriously?

2011-03-23T13:01:00.000-07:00

That post title is for Bret, who hates the sarcastic and oh-so-popular-right-now over-usage of "Seriously?" and "Really?" The sad part is, I used to say them too but I've tried to stop now because I'm just that fabulous of a wife.

Anyway.

The real reason for this post, and the title, is that this second round of pregnancy is out. of. control. Take pretty much any pregnancy "thing" (except for morning sickness, because thankfully I didn't have that with Gabe and haven't this time either), and multiply it by seventeen thousand gazillion trillion, and that's how I feel. Way more tired, way more sensitive to smell, way more picky about what I want to eat, and way way way way way more emotional. For a girl that's all about feelings anyway, pregnancy is like having an emotion-amplifier implanted into your heart and not being told where the off button is located. And for me, being happy or sad or sentimental or frustrated all ends up in the same outlet of expression: tears. Bret and I can both attest to the fact that this is both really funny and really annoying.

Here are some of the more ridiculous examples of recent emotional uprisings:

- A few weeks ago we decided to make a quick trip to Staples and Fred Meyer for a couple of things. We're singing along to the radio and just minutes away from arriving at Staples, when suddenly ONE LINE of the song that I've just sung hits me like a ton of bricks and I am instantly crying. Not just teary eyed, but full on hitch-in-my-throat crying. Okay, seriously? One line of a song is going to send me into tearful weepiness in half a second?? And then I'm both crying and laughing at myself for crying. Poor Bret was just left sitting there not sure what to do because our fun little karaoke-fest just turned into falling-apart-pregnant-wife on him.

- Sunday night I was watching TV before bed and flipping through the channels when I came across the end of Top Gun. So I'm watching Iceman and Slider fighting the Migs and thinking about how they're repeating every line and wondering if pilots really do that in real life. Then Maverick shows up to join the fight but can't get his head in the game because he's missing Goose and there's the scene where he stares at Goose's dogtags in his hand and says "Talk to me, Goose", and I tear up. Okay . . . Seriously?? Over Top Gun? Well apparently, yes.

- Moments after the Top Gun Incident of March 2011, while I'm still snorting over the ridiculousness of what this baby is doing to me, I decide to turn to the news to distract myself. They're talking about the first test flight of the new Boeing 747 Intercontinental that had happened that morning. So whatever, that's interesting enough but no cause for the waterworks to start...or so I thought. The newscasters are talking about how many orders have been placed and they're showing pictures of the pilots waving and Boeing executives shaking hands and then I hear "Hundreds came out to watch the historic event, including the press and many of the assembly line workers who've spent the past four years on the project" and then there's cheering and they show the plane lifting off. And I tear up.

OKAY, SERIOUSLY?? REALLY??

It's just that all those people have worked so hard and they probably felt such a sense of pride when they saw the flight, knowing that they were a part of that...and holy cow, we have the technology to FLY, to put a thing that big up in the air and it's unbelievable and incredible and aren't people and what they can come up with just so amazing?!?

...and I'm an idiot. I was just looking around for a picture I could put of the plane into this post and I came across this video of the flight, and started tearing up all over again. Sheesh.

And I have another 5 months of this to go, people.

!!!!

Outside

2011-03-08T21:53:00.000-08:00

Lately, Gabe begins every day roughly the same way: wake up, eat breakfast, then start pointing and grunting at the door to the garage indicating that he wants to go outside. Never mind that it's 40 degrees outside. Never mind that it might be snowing or raining or windy. Just point-grunt-point-grunt. Bret's been home with him lately and I telework, so we take turns trying to distract him or manage his expectations (i.e. you have to get dressed first before we can go outside). Once outside, he is content to toddle and wander around and would stay outside for hours if we'd let him. The other day we spent 10 minutes with him picking up rocks, looking at me and saying "Ish", me telling him "Rock", and him throwing the rocks back into area lining our front walk.

For Gabe's sake, I sort of wish he was a like a dog that we could let out into the backyard to wander around on his own. Then we wouldn't have to stand out in the cold with him. And if we could teach him to dig holes and go to the bathroom, I wouldn't have to change any more diapers! Have I taken this analogy too far? Hmm...

Back on track, then. Pictures:

Watching Bret wash the car (remember, Bret's car-washing knows no limits).

Offering me a leaf he found.

I love this picture but it's washed out and I couldn't get the contrast
to show up right via editing.

So I tried changing it to black & white - kind of a cool look.

Jackpot

2011-02-12T06:21:00.000-08:00

Gabe has a fondness for remote controls and we have learned to keep them out of reach or risk have the channel changed at crucial moments (i.e. middle of a football game, 3rd down, pass thrown, breath held to see if the catch will be made...and suddenly we are watching a golf tournament instead).

Christina recently moved out of my parents' house and took the downstairs TV cabinet with her. Yesterday, Gabe found the treasure trove of remotes that had been gathering there for years:

I believe Gabe considered it a very, very good day.

"Limited Cable Service"

2011-02-07T22:16:00.000-08:00

At the end of December, in an act of money-saving anticipation due to the pending arrival of this little gem,

we decided to take ourselves down to the basics of television entertainment. Remember in the 80's when there were only 6 channels and you had to (gasp!) get up off the couch to change the channel? Well we can still be lazy and use the remote, and we actually have about 15 channels, but we are definitely experiencing the "limited" part of what Comcast calls our new level of cable service.

(incidentally, our BABY (apparently they need to label the picture so I don't mistakenly think I'm having an inkblot) does not have two heads...one of those round things is the yolk sac, soon to be the placenta)

So, I have watched more Little House on the Praire, Golden Girls, random PBS shows, and Hallmark Channel movies in the last 6 weeks than in my entire 36 years up until now. Gone are the days of channel surfing and getting sucked into an episode of Real Housewives of a-city-in-the-US-that-you-didn't-used-to-have-any-opinion-of-but-now-you're-embarrased-for-the-people-who-also-live-there-and-whose-town-is-being-sullied-by-women-on-a-reality-show-acting-ridiculous. Farewell to the hours spent watching You've Got Mail for the thirtieth time simply because it was on TBS and I don't have a good book to read as an alternative. No longer will I stumble across Bret Michaels from Poison in his second, third, (fourth?) attempt to find love with a former groupie who swears she's deeply emotionally really and truly connected to the real man behind the rock star and not just the idea of being a rock star wife. And perhaps most disappointingly, gone is Top Chef...the one Bravo reality TV show I have never been embarassed to admit having seen.

Life sure gets a lot simpler when you're a chronic channel surfer who only has a few channels to choose from.

So here is what I've learned and/or pondered in the last month and a half during my pre-bedtime channel flipping:

1) How did Laura Ingalls get to the nickname "Manly" for her husband from his given name of Almonso? I would think that Al would be a more natural conclusion to have reached.

2) Well if it's good enough for Laura Ingalls, perhaps I should try it. I don't think Bret would mind being referred to as "Manly". I think people (including me and Bret) would snicker at this nickname, but I just might try it.

3) How did Laura's older sister Mary go blind? (This was actually Bret's question...he guessed that she had Scarlet Fever. I had no guesses since I was too busy wondering if the actress that played Mary went blind in real life and maybe that's why they wrote that story line. But then I remembered that the show was based on books by the real Laura Ingalls Wilder so it probably was an illness or something like Bret thought.)

4) Which one of the Golden Girls owned the house they all lived in? Was it Dorothy or Blanche?

5) Are any of the Golden Girls besides Betty White still alive?

6) Didn't someone know that the shoulder pads they all wore made them look like linebackers? Why were shoulder pads ever a fashion trend?

7) Some guy named Larry Levinson is the producer or creator or something warranting screen credit on every Hallmark Channel movie. Who *is* this guy?

8) The story line of every Hallmark Channel movie is a variation on the same theme: a strong independent woman discovers that something is missing in her life and inevitably it can only be provided by the unexpected suitor who enters her life. This often happens when the strong independent woman goes to a small town - possibly for work, or possibly to take care of business in the small town she grew up in. And often the unexpected suitor is an old boyfriend/husband who the new boyfriend/fiance just can't seem to replace.

9) The sole purpose of the Hallmark Channel is to make the viewer feel warm, fuzzy, and possibly even tearful at the beauty that is relationships. Forget thought provoking programming, forget current events, forget it all...Hallmark's only goal is ooey-gooey-smooshy-squishy-hearts-and-flowers LOVE. A couple weeks ago I watched the new Hallmark movie with Betty White in it, and they were showing classic Hallmark card commercials throughout. Two daughters finding all the cards from them that their father saved, two little girls playing tea party with a handmade Hallmark invitation...I spent a good portion of the commercial breaks teary-eyed and sniffling and by the end of the movie, when Betty White's missing-in-action husband who was shot down during WWII comes home in a casket with the American flag draped over it, I was choking back sobs because I didn't want to be a complete ridiculous blubbering mess in front of Bret, who was watching the end of the movie with me.

That's right Hallmark Channel, you sucked my husband in too. Oh you're a clever one, Larry Levinson.

10) I will be very glad when the new season of Amazing Race starts in a couple of weeks.

2011-01-24T23:41:00.000-08:00

Recently got some more pictures from Mandy of the November festivities and thought I'd share a few more of my favorites:

Love my boys!

Anna provides proof that pretty much anyone who feeds a baby subconsciously encourages the process by opening their own mouth!

Miriam, on the other hand, is the epitome of complete concentration with her expression (either that or she knew we'd been laughing about Anna the night before!).

This was the night Gabe started walking, and obviously I was REALLY EXCITED about the events transpiring. Bret looks dignified-excited. I look maniacal. Here's hoping no one has a camera trained on me the first time Gabe competes at field day in elementary school!

November

2011-01-06T19:00:00.000-08:00

(Yes, I realize it's January. I think if the last 6 months of this blog have taught us anything, it's that I'm not exactly timely with my posts.)

November was a big month for Gabe! Sure, he turned 1 in October...but November is really where the action was at.

He finally got to meet Paul:

And Caleb:

And Miriam:

And Anna:

And Micah!

Gabe and Micah, headbutting hello

Whew! And it took me 3 days after they left to realize I needed to change our bedtime prayers from: "...and please bless all my aunts and uncles and cousins, even the ones I haven't met yet..." to "...and please bless all my aunts and uncles and cousins, even the ones who live far away that I don't get to see very often..." because I'd been saying the first version for 8 months since we started Gabe's bedtime routine!

And this is a cute picture of Bret, Gabe & Grandpa, just because:

Actually, the reason I included that picture was because of Christina in the upper right hand corner. I didn't notice she was there the first time I saw how the picture turned out. She's a sneaky one, that Christina.

November brought Gabe's first trip to the zoo:

Grandma in heaven - all her grandkids together at once!

...and Gabe's first official sugar high thanks to his personal birthday cake:

What *is* this glorious nectar?

Wait, it tastes good AND it's fun to play with??

I think my work here is done...waiter, please clear my table!

But what topped off our 'November to Remember' was that Gabe started walking! It was really neat that it happened when Paul, Mandy & the kids were here to see it in person!

Love how he stands back up and claps for himself...love that I had the camera out so I could catch this on video...and love most of all that this first pass of multiple steps together was Gabe walking to me!!

Trapped

2010-12-14T00:21:00.000-08:00

Saturday morning Gabe trapped himself in his bedroom.

It was actually a little amusing once his crying stopped and my heart rate slowed down. Here's what happened:

I was in the bathroom doing my makeup and Gabe was hanging out with me while Bret washed the car. (I assume the rest of you that live in western Washington are now asking yourselves why Bret was washing the car, since it's been raining nonstop for the past week (or longer??). I'm sorry to say that I can't answer that question for you. We were driving back from getting Gabe's picture taken with Santa on Friday afternoon and Bret announced that my car was "ridiculously filthy" and that he'd be washing it before we left the house to do errands on Saturday. It makes no sense to me why he'd want to wash my car in the rain, but then again I've gone for months and months without washing my car. Quite possibly years, in fact!) So I'm at the bathroom mirror getting ready, and Gabe is toddling back and forth between the bathroom and his bedroom across the hall. And since our house is the size of a shoebox (oh alright, I'm exaggerating; it's really the size of a large shoebox), Gabe was at most about 6 feet away from me.

Except that his bedroom door was between us, and lately he's decided he likes to close doors. So he's playing in his room and chattering and I'm putting on mascara, and then I hear his door close. My immediate thought is "thank goodness I moved the ironing board from behind his door". We used to keep it there but moved it when he started crawling. My next thought was picturing what's still behind the door, which is this:

A set of wall shelves that we got for our wedding but haven't decided where to put up yet (yes, we got married 3 1/2 years ago...what's your point?) because of our lack of wall space (see previous comment about our shoebox house). I used to have the box of shelves standing up on end, but again due to the Gabe crawling factor, I decided I needed to change that. And lo and behold, the box of shelves fits perfectly in the space between the door on the right and the bookshelf on the left. A storage dream! And see how the box of shelves is almost the exact width of the molding, allowing the door to open fully without the box getting in the way? You can guess that I was quite pleased with this serendipitous development.

But I digress.

So Gabe shut his door and I wasn't too worried about it, and after about 15 seconds I went to open the door. And it would only open about 5 inches. I pushed harder, it opened a bit wider, but it was still blocked. And there's Gabe at the opening looking at me like "what's the problem, Mom?". I had those first moments of panic; the kind where you immediately jump to "MY CHILD IS TRAPPED I CAN'T GET HIM OUT WHAT AM I GOING TO DOOOOOO?" but then I realized that things were not as dire as my maternal panic instincts had made them out to be, and after reaching around the door to see if I could feel anything (which I couldn't), I grabbed the hand mirror from the bathroom to figure out what was blocking the door.

And yes, I was quite proud of myself for such a logical response. It may not seem like a big deal to those of you that are of the more laid-back variety, or have a few more years of parenting under your belt, but I don't really consider myself to be the type that's calm under pressure. So, thinking to get a mirror and find out what was causing the problem was a minor triumph for me.

I saw that the box of shelves was pulled out from the wall and wedged (remember how it fit so perfectly between the door and the bookshelf?) so that the door wouldn't swing open. Ok, no problem...I'll just find something to push the box back into place and voila!, the door will once again be free to go about its business. A broom handle seemed like the perfect tool for the job, so I tell Gabe that I'll be right back and run downstairs to get the broom. Halfway down the stairs Gabe starts crying and by the time I reach the broom in the kitchen he is SCREAMING. My maternal panic instincts were once again on high alert and when I got back to him, literally 10 seconds later, he was attemping to shove himself through the 5 inch door opening. So between my mad dash downstairs and my heart squeezing at my screaming baby trying to free himself, I was slightly anxious...and then I had to push Gabe back into his room so I could get the broom handle in there to try to move the box.

Oh jeez.

After a couple of tries I realized it was wedged pretty good and Gabe was still crying - so I pushed at the door again and felt it give a bit more against the cardboard of the box, making a space wide enough to pull Gabe through. After a good long hug he settled down and my heart rate began to slow, so I moved back to the task of getting his door open. In the end, I pushed aside the changing table that's right inside the door (thank goodness it's a lightweight piece of furniture on wheels that we decided to put there), pushed hard on the door and squeezed into the room. I expected to hear wood cracking at the hinges but never did, so that was good news...I would have hated to announce to Bret when he got back inside from car washing in the rain that his next activity needed to be door repair.

Once inside the room, I tried to figure out how Gabe had done it. I put the box back the way it had been in its perfect spot, and Gabe came right in, closed the door, and moved the box so it blocked the door again. As if he had completely forgotten the trauma (if his screaming was any indication) of moments before, or perhaps just wasn't as concerned about it now that I was in the room with him.

To document the event for the memory books, Gabe and I went to get the camera and took pictures of a re-enactment:

"Hey look! I can turn this box over on to its side! Cool!"

"Oh, hi Mommy! <sheepish expression> I turned the box over onto its side. ...But I guess you probably remember that from a few minutes ago, huh?"

Shutting the door (I really think this kid has a future as a re-enactment actor...he went right from tipping the box over to shutting the door with just a small pause in the middle to let his #1 fan take a picture. I definitely see an Emmy in his future.)

Trying to open the door wider to get out. This is when he started fussing again because he couldn't open the door any wider, and I decided to stop the re-enactment lest I add to his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the event.

Still smiling after our eventful morning (well, I am...Gabe was taking it under consideration).

After the photo session, our next activity was to find a different place to store that box of shelves!

Storage

2010-12-06T19:21:00.000-08:00

Today Gabe informed me by example that I've been keeping my shoes in the wrong place.

Clearly they're supposed to be kept in the kitchen drawer that holds his bowls and cups.

Just think about all the room I'll have in my closet now!

Comparison

2010-10-31T01:25:00.000-07:00

Let me ask you something:

If you squint your eyes, and tilt your head to the left, and tuck your chin down to your chest...then do these:

Look at all like these:

??

...yeah...I didn't think so either.

This was the birthday cake idea I saw in an issue of Parenting magazine (thanks for the subscription, Mandy!) and decided to use for Gabe's birthday party. Tonight I did a little test run and I have no idea how those wacky folks at Parenting magazine got the food coloring in the icing to turn out such vivid colors. I used 20 drops of red coloring and still all I got was a deep pink. I also couldn't make the jolly rancher fruit chews (the candy used on top to make the cakes look like legos) match the icing, so I experimented with gummy life savers. But the saddest part is that they don't even taste that good. It's frozen pound cake with pre-made cake icing and way too rich! So, I'm glad I did a dry run and I think I'll probably end up doing something different for Gabe's cake at his party next weekend. Cute idea though!

One

2010-10-24T00:08:00.000-07:00

Gabe turned one last Monday! We celebrated with a couple gifts from Grandma in the morning...

"A card? For me??"

He found the curling ribbon pretty entertaining.

And of course, he was really interested in ripping the wrapping paper...the magnetic animal puzzle book was a secondary attraction. (Although now that we have it home without wrapping paper for competition, he loves it!)

Awesome truck with jumbo legos! Gabe likes to push cars and trucks around and make engine noises at the same time; it's really cute.

...And then Gabe and I took a road trip to the Tri-Cities to see Lindsey & Lydia who were in town from WA DC.

Both Gabe & Lydia were not feeling very cooperative for a group picture, so we decided to just take what we could get!

Lydia's Grammy Sherry showing us how to keep two squirrely kids entertained...the talents of a Grandma!

It was an eventful day!

I'll leave you with a collage of monthly pics from Gabe's first year (idea courtesy of my friend Annie!). I think I already said in a previous post that all the cliches I've heard about parenting and having kids seem to be pretty true (so far as my whopping year of experience in that area goes), and the part about how time flies and how they grow up so fast is perhaps the most bothersome truth of all.

Then again, lately I've been really looking forward to Gabe walking, getting molars, and being potty trained...so at least in those respects I'm not so bothered by time flying!

Happy 1st Birthday to my precious baby boy, who makes me laugh and melts my heart and teaches me about myself and brings me such great joy - love you love you, buddy!

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth...

2010-10-17T23:38:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite poems is High Flight, by John Gillespie Magee, Jr:

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, --and done a hundred things

You have not dreamed of --Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air...

Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew --

And, while with silent lifting mind I've trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Recent high flights:

- Bret and his dad went skydiving! It was Bret's parents' gift to him for his birthday in April, but they had to wait to go until their schedules and the weather all cooperated. They went on a beautiful, HOT day in August...perfect blue skies!

Jumping out of a plane...just your average father/son bonding activity.

Gabe helping Bret practice the freefall position.

Coming in for landing.

Bret's tandem instructor was a guy I went to highschool with - small world!

- In September, we went to visit Sara in Idaho and her boyfriend Jared took us flying! We did loops and went weightless and I'm pretty sure I giggled like a maniac for 90% of my flight. There was even knee-slapping.

Yes, I said knee-slapping. Because apparently, my spontaneous instinctual reaction to having extreme amounts of fun is to slap my knee like a 1940's grandpa.

Anyway, I would love love love to get my pilot's license. Bret's dad has started lessons to get his...so maybe I'll talk him or Jared into teaching me someday. Now there's an idea!

Landing

That's me in the back.

- In early October, I got to go on my third hot air balloon flight! Perhaps not the kind of fun that inspires knee-slapping, but amazing nonetheless! My parents generously expanded their "romance aloft flight for two" and invited the rest of us along for the ride. (Though really, how romantic could it have been, with the balloon pilot there as well? It's not like he could step away and give a couple any privacy...)

We helped hold the balloon open in front of a big fan so it could begin to inflate, and Mom and Dad took this job very seriously. The bottom of the balloon opening was lifting up and blocking the inflow, so Mom went in to remedy the problem. So cute.

Phase 2 of inflation - heating the air inside the balloon.

I was a bit concerned Dad wasn't going to let go (remember, I said my folks were taking our roles in getting the balloon off the ground very seriously).

The basket turned out to be roomier than we expected...we could've easily fit a few more!

It was an eventful few months for us!

There have been a few times...

2010-09-28T23:01:00.000-07:00

...since Gabe showed up that I have had somewhat surreal realizations of my motherhood. Moments when I find myself in a reality that seems both strange and completely normal at the same time.

For example: the first time I took Gabe into a store by myself when he was a few weeks old. From the outside I'm sure it just looked like a woman taking her baby out of the car and into the store. But on the inside, I felt a bit like a little girl playing mommy with her doll. I felt like I had a big sign over my head flashing in neon "Rookie!" I must've checked a half dozen times to make sure I had the pacifier, a burp rag (make that two burp rags in case of emergency), a diaper (make that two diapers in case of emergency), baby wipes, an extra outfit, changing pad, blanket...I think I put pretty much the entire contents of the diaper bag into my purse. Would've just been easier to put my wallet into the diaper bag! I worried that I would trip and drop Gabe. I wondered what I'd do if he started screaming in the middle of the store and I couldn't calm him down. Up until then, Bret and I had gone out together with Gabe, so I figured that if he was inconsolable, at least I had a buddy to share my public embarassment. But the first time alone in public with Gabe, I felt self-conscious and suddenly very aware that I was a mother. And even if I didn't feel like I knew what I was doing, others would look at me and assume I did.

Another example: the first few times someone asked me about Gabe's preferences. As in: "Does Gabe like tummy time?" or "Does Gabe like having his diaper changed?" I had experienced his reactions first hand (see previous posts regarding tummy time and Gabe's thoughts thereon) but when someone asked me about his preferences, it was a reminder that I was being asked because they assumed that as his mother, I would know these things. What I felt like saying was: "<shrug> I don't really know, I just met him too."

Well yesterday I had another of these surreal moments. I had decided to wash Gabe's stuffed elephant, Mr. Oly Font, because he smelled like spit. Nice. So into the washer goes Oly, and out comes puffy stuffing all over every piece of clothing in the load and Oly with a leg injury:

And my first thought is: "Oh I'll just sew that up."

And then my next thought is "I'm totally a real mom right now! I'm gonna perform my first surgery on my kid's stuffed animal! That's such a mom thing to do!"

This excitement wore off a little as I spent the next 10 minutes cleaning up the stuffing stuck to the clothes in the load so it wouldn't clog the dryer vent.

But still! I'm very excited about this rite of passage of being a Stuffed Animal Nurse (with apologies to Oly for the sacrifice he had to make to get me here).

Made My Day

2010-09-27T10:42:00.000-07:00

Check this out - just made my day!

Cruise People

2010-09-01T23:40:00.000-07:00

Have I mentioned that my parents are Cruise People?

In 2003, my parents and Aunt & Uncle took my Grandma on a cruise through the Panama Canal. She'd been wanting to do it for years but had never planned it, and when she started to show signs of Alzheimer's, my dad decided that they should just take the bull by the horns and plan the trip so she'd really go.

Departing for their first cruise...love my Gram's pink velour tracksuit!

The start of an era.

This picture makes me miss my Gram. (sorry Laura, it doesn't really make me miss you, because I just saw you...but I think your hair is cute)

Well the Panama Canal turned my parents into Cruise People.

I think they've gone on something like 10 cruises now, and they're about to go on their 11th. Or their 20th. Who can keep track? (I'm not worried about being too accurate on this because I'm pretty sure my mom will include the correct number in a comment when she reads this post.)

Last fall, Mom called during their cruise to...Mexico? Hawaii? Who can keep track?...and was telling Laura and I how she'd gotten called up on stage again during an evening show by a ventriloquist. That's right, I said "again". You see, my mom is a volunteer-er. Always up for a good time or adventure, and willing to help out a ventriloquist in need of a dummy.

Haha. Sorry Mom. You know I love you. You're the best mom ever. And actually, I would be doing both of us a disservice if I didn't take the intelligence and wit you imparted to me and use it to make a pun about ventriloquists and dummies. (have I dug myself out of the hole yet? c'mon, i thought that last thing about doing both of us a disservice was pretty clever!)

So after we talked to Mom, we decided to have t-shirts made for Mom & Dad's next cruise. For Mom, an eye-catching pink shirt to aid her volunteer efforts. And for Dad, a black shirt with gray embroidered lettering to express his slightly more reserved outlook.

Playing their roles for the camera

I'll leave you with this: a picture I found of Mom on their cruise to Tahiti in 2005.

Mom's the one in the middle.

Haha. Sorry Mom. You know I love you. You're the best mom ever. And actually, I would be doing both of us a disservice if I didn't take the observational skills and wit you imparted to me and use it to make a joke about telling you apart from fruit animals. (what? that one doesn't work a second time? dang. actually, I love this picture of you, Mom. I think it completely exhibits your sense of humor and love for fun, and I can totally picture you exclaiming over each fruit animal and the creativity of how they were made. Love you!)

Spidey-sense

2010-08-22T21:59:00.000-07:00

Up until fairly recently, I've pretty much avoided character or cartoon themed stuff for Gabe. I figured that I'm going to be spending enough time over the next 12 years hearing about how cool Transformers are, or how his friend so-and-so has the latest Disney character-themed bicycle and he wants one too, or watching Star Wars 50 times, so why start all the hype before Gabe even knows what it is? Why become another cog in the marketing machine wheel?

And then I saw these Spiderman pajamas. And they were adorable. (As everything is when it's miniature. This is why little kids look so cute in overalls, and why I should've realized that the overall craze 10 years ago wasn't for me. Instead, I got a pair and wore them all the time. Comfortable, yes. Adorable? Sadly, no.)

The first night I put the pj's on him, I immediately notified Bret that we would be having a pre-bedtime photo shoot due to the extreme cuteness quotient we were witnessing.

Spidey-sense on high alert

Heroic triumph

I do believe the marketing machine has now been activated, and I am being assimilated.

Dagnabbit.

10

2010-08-20T22:23:00.000-07:00

Gabe is 10 months old. And yes I am feeling very cliche about it - as in "I can't believe he's almost a year old, where has the time gone" etc. etc.

Doesn't this look like one of those poses they make kids do for senior portraits?

This is what I know about him right now. And yes, this is the cliche part of the post where I make sweeping generalizations about the habits and character of my child, based on very little historical knowledge, so that I can someday say things to Gabe like "You always loved Cheerios, even as a baby" and to VH-1 Behind the Music like "Oh I knew my son would be a talented drummer...as a baby he would bang spoons on pans and even then, he could keep a steady beat". (because, anyone can keep a beat if there are only 2 beats being counted)

Gabe loves cats. He squeals and screeches in delight whenever he spots Smedley.
Gabe prefers to eat from a metal spoon over a plastic spoon. My mom and I have done experiments on this and tonight was the most blatant display of this preference of Gabe's I've seen yet: I was feeding him dinner and bites offered from his plastic baby spoon were emphatically refused while bites of the same exact thing, seconds later, from a metal spoon, were happily accepted. We think it's because he sees us eating off metal silverware.
Gabe adores Bret. But I've mentioned this before, haven't I?
Gabe's eating preferences are very urgent (that's the only word I can think of for it). Once in his chair, he does NOT want to wait to eat. Once done eating, he does NOT want to wait to get out of his chair. And once he spots his bottle, he will go from completely fine and happy to whimpering (and screaming, if he has to wait for it to heat up). And this one's my favorite: if I'm carrying him upstairs with a bottle in my hand and he spots it, he will contort himself in an effort to get his mouth on the bottle nipple, with no thought to how he might be working himself out of my grasp/arms. so, calling it my "favorite" is highly sarcastic.
He now has 5 teeth, and the three upper ones all arrived in the last 2 1/2 weeks. Good times. Oh, and his front teeth are growing in with a huge gap in the middle:

I understand that these are only his baby teeth, but this gap has already got me thinking about the costs of orthodontia.

And finally, I think Gabe probably needs a haircut, because the hair over his ears is long and awkward. But somehow it just seems too early to cut his hair (see my previous comment about how I'm feeling very cliche about him turning one soon).

Gabe's Blog

2010-08-08T17:00:00.000-07:00

Not too long ago, someone said something to me along the lines of: "I haven't checked Gabe's blog lately {smirk}, because you know it's Gabe's blog, not yours."

By the way, isn't smirk a great word?

I was reminded of this yesterday as I was blog-stalking and read someone's post about how they had always vowed never to become one of those people who suddenly turns their blog into all about their child, once they have a baby. While reading the post I felt a wave of embarassment, because my blog is probably 75% about my child. Okay, 80%. 85%? 99% ?

Whatever.

Anyway, I immediately jumped to my own defense because I didn't even start this blog until we found out we were pregnant, so its purpose was actually to be about our baby in the first place. HA! Take that, Mr. Embarassment!

Not that I address embarassment on such a formal basis, usually...this case just seemed to call for an official title.

Besides, I'm much more interested in blogging about Gabe than I am in blogging about me. And I figure other people don't have to read it if they don't want to.

Although I guess if I really didn't care if other people read it, I wouldn't have a map gadget down at the bottom of the page. Hmmm...

Regardless, I am determined to forge on, and Mr. Embarassment, you can either come along for the ride or go find someone else to make blush.

So there.

41 Weeks and 5 Days

2010-08-06T20:49:00.000-07:00

...is how long I was pregnant with Gabe, and is how old Gabe is today.

And even though:

- it was much easier to carry him around in my belly than it is to carry him around in my arms (those kangaroos really have a great thing going),

- I got a lot more sleep when I was pregnant than I have since he arrived,

- the most annoying thing he did in utero was press on my bladder (oh yeah, and refuse to come out near his due date) and now he's discovered whining as a means to an end,

I would much much much rather have him ex-utero than in.

New (and old) friends!

2010-07-30T20:00:00.000-07:00

We got to visit with the Brooks family last weekend! So fun to have them over for the day and introduce Gabe (9 months) and Lydia (just turned 1!).

Gabe's been pulling himself up on furniture, and Lydia is wanting to let go of furniture and stand on her own. It was funny to see how excited we parents were about their respective triumphs in development (...as in: I stopped Lindsey mid-sentence to exclaim that Gabe had just pulled himself up on the outside of the playpen and he'd never done that before and I had to get the camera (thank goodness Lindsey is a great friend and sympathetic new mom who understands the importance of stopping all adult conversation to exclaim at something profound and simply earthshatteringly brilliant your child is doing, haha!) and later both Lindsey and Thomas had separate outbursts of proud parenthood as they watched Lydia let go of her handhold on something and try to balance on her own).

Was a great visit with great friends!

Because it's Wednesday.

2010-07-28T21:51:00.000-07:00

Reminiscent

2010-07-26T20:00:00.000-07:00

This:

Reminds me of this:

...except for the part at the end where Gabe sees a cat on the fence outside the window and the part where Kip tells Napolean they're late for prime rib. Those parts are included just because they're funny.

Carousel

2010-07-21T20:00:00.000-07:00

Gabe went on his first carousel ride at this year's Sultan Shindig.

I am concentrating very hard on not letting my kid fall off the carousel. And I don't think it was even moving yet at this point.

Just when I started to relax and have a little fun, Gabe seems to be over the whole thing. Could it be that my vice-like grip around his stomach was ruining the experience for him?

Bret took him on the carousel a second time, and even with Bret's more confident (and therefore, relaxed) hold on him, by the end of the ride Gabe's expressions seemed to indicate that he was humoring us and indulging our excitement, yet not really feeling it himself.

And perhaps this is the reason why: the weekend before the Shindig, we went camping and Gabe had his first motorcycle ride with Daddy. So maybe it's not too surprising after all...would I be thrilled with a plastic horse going up and down and around and around after learning what real horsepower* was on a motorcycle? Probably not!

*yes, I am quite proud of myself for this pun

Oh sure, shopping for a new carseat is all fun and games...

2010-07-20T18:00:00.000-07:00

...until Mommy and Daddy stick you up on the display carseat at Babies R Us...

...buckle you in...

...and leave you there while they take pictures, exclaiming over "what a big boy you are!", as if they think a display carseat in Babies R Us is completely the appropriate place to discuss this observation with each other.

Um, Mom & Dad?

It's not.

Sincerely,

Gabriel

Homework

2010-07-19T22:37:00.000-07:00

Lately I feel like this blog is homework I don't want to do.

Which isn't really true, but sort of is. I have stories and pictures I want to post, memories I want to preserve, but the end of the day rolls around and doing a blog post becomes another item on the (ever growing) list of things to do.

But tonight I came across this picture, and it made me happy, and the thought of posting it didn't feel like homework.

Perhaps I will just forego the stories part and only post pictures.

(ha...who am I kidding?)

To My Husband on Father's Day

2010-06-20T22:45:00.000-07:00

To my husband on his first official Father's Day (because neither of us thought last year's Father's & Mother's Days really counted, with Gabe being in-utero and our parenting skills being a thing of conjecture rather than a reality worthy of a full day of honoring):

Babe, if I thought you were snazzy before, it pales in comparison to how I feel about you now that you've added "father" to your list of life roles. Since Gabe's birth - wait, let's go back even further, during the preparation stage...

You came to OB appointments with me, shared my awe at ultrasound pictures, called me at work to remind me to drink more water...you came to a million baby classes with me, and supported me when I felt like labor induction wasn't what I wanted to do. You held my hand through contractions and encouraged me and advocated for me and held me up and kissed me and told me I was amazing when I pushed Gabriel into the world.

And then you immediately stepped up to fatherhood as you watched the nurses clearing his throat so he could breathe easier, urging them along in their task with fierce protectiveness and anxious concern resounding in your voice.

You tackled diapering and dressing and swaddling from day one - perhaps a bit worried about handling a tiny baby but not letting it deter you from caring for your son.

When I struggled with breastfeeding, you were in the trenches with me as we first tried feeding Gabe formula via a syringe while I nursed, then formula via a supplemental nursing system, and then you giving him a bottle so I could pump. You went to every lactation consultant appointment and every baby weight check appointment. You admitted not fully understanding the depth of my sadness over not breastfeeding, but you let me cry without censure. And you reminded me that the most important thing was our healthy baby boy.

You took on bath-time as your specialty, and the first bath I gave him was when he was almost three months old.

You took Gabe on a tour of the garage when he was only weeks old, and you put his little hand on the grip of your motorcycle, explaining to him how you guys would ride together when he's older.

You make up songs and stories and you made it a goal to learn the songs I sing to him, like 'Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes', 'Skittamarink-a-dink-a-dink', and 'Abba Dabba Honeymoon', even asking me to write down the words so you could learn them faster.

You can make Gabe laugh harder than anyone, and he adores you. He starts smiling and waving his arms in excitement the moment he sees you. If we're at home but you're not, he'll look down the hall to your office as if hoping to see you've appeared, and when you call up the stairs that you're home, he stops what he's doing and stares at the doorway in anticipation.

Watching the tenderness with which you snuggle Gabe and shower him with kisses makes my heart swell and I fall in love with you more every time. I am so proud to be your partner in parenting, Bret.

Happy Father's Day, I love you!

To My Dad on Father's Day

2010-06-20T22:25:00.000-07:00

Dad,

Since I was little, you've been the mark by which I measured any boy/guy/man.

You may have given me away...

...but you will always be the first man I loved.

Happy Father's Day, Dad - I love you!

p.s. I know this post sounds like a totally cheesy Hallmark card but I really don't mean for it to - although, maybe I should submit it to them and see if I can get a greeting card writer job on the side?!

All because two people fell in love

2010-06-16T22:18:00.000-07:00

On this day, thirty-eight years ago:

...these two crazy kids got hitched. And I do mean kids. If Gabe even remotely considers getting married just out of high school I think I just might lock him in the bathroom and set up a tent outside the door to keep watch so he can't escape. He'll have water and I'll slip him sandwiches under the door.

That having been said:

1) I'm glad my grandparents were more rational than I am and didn't lock either of my parents in the bathroom.

2) I do want Gabe to be happy, so if he decides to get married right out of high school, I will give him the best advice I can based on the circumstances at that time and then pray pray pray pray pray.

Mom and Dad: your love for each other and the life you've made together is...well, it just IS. I've been sitting here for five minutes trying to think of how to phrase my thoughts, and "it just IS" feels like the best way to describe it. Your example has shaped my life, it's been constant, it's a grounding factor for me - it "IS". You guys get happier as the years go by and truly enjoy each other's company. Mom still greets Dad at the top of the stairs with a kiss and Dad still surprises mom with "I love you" on the bathroom mirror in Mom's lipstick.

Happy Anniversary to you two crazy kids!

April Birthdays

2010-06-15T00:02:00.000-07:00

Papa T (Bret's dad) turned 60 at the beginning of April! We decided to spruce up the festivities with some party decorations and while shopping for them, I saw this hat:

...and I decided that we should start a birthday tradition!

Papa T and Meemo - aren't they adorable?!

And another festive onesie for Gabe:

Then Bret's birthday came at the end of April. A few months ago we borrowed Christina's DVD's of the first five seasons of "The Office" - really funny and we totally got hooked - so in honor of his birthday I made Bret a Dwight-ism birthday banner.

Me: "Babe, smile"

Me: "Babe, look at me and smile for real"

Me: "BABE!!!!"

Me: "Now was that so hard?"
Bret: "Yes, actually..."
(We have had similar conversations many, many times over the past 5 years. How many spouses (mostly men, I suspect) would like to throttle the person who invented the digital camera?)

The Birthday Tradition hat makes a second appearance. It's possible that the hat will mysteriously disappear after Mary's birthday in July and just as mysteriously reappear in October for Sara and Gabe's birthdays.

After his birthday brunch Bret wanted to go for a hike, so we went up to Barclay Lake and Sara and Jared joined us.

On Bret's actual birthday we repeated last year's activities and bought Bret new running shoes, then went out to dinner for hot wings (Bret's birthday dinner of choice).

Now, I know what you're thinking. "Wow - party hats, tennis shoes, and hot wings. Gabe has a LOT to look forward to." I figure we're about 10 years away from copying my Great-Grandmother's classic Christmas gift of socks & underwear. Should be an exciting adolescence for the Gabester.

...And in light of my last post about the Mercer Island Half Marathon, I will leave you with this: Bret's big birthday gift this year from Gabe and I was a Nike+, which is a transmitter you wear when you run that tracks how far you've gone, your speed per mile, the temperature on Jupiter, the NASDAQ, the relative humidity in France, etc. etc. (obviously I'm being facetious - you can't expect it to track how far you've gone when it's busy with the temperature on Jupiter!). Anyway, after Bret got his new running shoes, we went to the high school track so he could calibrate it, and I tried again to take pictures using the Continuous Shooting function on my camera that failed me so miserably the day of the Mercer Island Half (or did I fail it? hmm...). The results:

Look! Look what I can do!! Gabe wasn't nearly as excited for me as I wanted him to be. I think he found my jubilation a bit ridiculous, since obviously there was no picture-taking pressure in this situation...after all, Bret would be coming around the track again in a few minutes!

Mercer Island Half Marathon

2010-06-13T22:45:00.000-07:00

Bret, his mom, & his sister are running another half marathon in a few weeks, which means I better get the post done for the one they ran at the end of March.

Yes, I said the end of March.

Ahem.

Anyway, at the end of March, Bret and his mom ran the Mercer Island Half Marathon. When they did the Seattle Half last November, my sister Christina came along and we scrambled around Seattle to cheer them along. For the Mercer Island Half, we added my father-in-law (otherwise known as Papa T) to our cheering section as we zoomed around Mercer Island. And I have discovered that, for some reason, I hear the Wicked Witch of the West music when I am driving in a hurry to get to the next cheering destination.

We were amateurs back in November for the Seattle Half, checking the Thomas Guide on the fly and driving willy nilly around Seattle. But not this time, oh no; not this time. This time I printed out the course map in advance, estimated Bret's average speed per mile, and jotted down several possible cheering locations. Oh yes, I was taking this Mercer Island Half Marathon much more seriously.

We got to the first location and settled in to wait. Christina and I ran a few picture drills to stay alert. We were determined that our picture taking skills this time around would not turn out like before. (Taking it much more seriously, indeed.)

But alas...

See, the problem is that in the excitement of the moment - the moment of "There he is! YAY!!" - everything goes all thumbs and all the picture drills in the world haven't helped. Observe:

Bret on the far left of the picture...

Bret on the far right of the picture...

And that's Mary (i.e. Bret's mom/Meemo) waving from behind the woman wearing #1577 in the foreground.

Sigh.

Well at least we got one good picture at this first stop...Go Meemo!

So it was on to cheering-destination-number-two and hopefully better picture taking. Mission accomplished as far as the cheering section was concerned:

But the fate was not to be the same for our runners.

I had remembered that my camera has a snazzy "Continuous Shooting" mode. Brilliant! Inspired! Magnificent! I would simply hold down the button and let the camera click-click-click away as Bret ran past. Why hadn't I figured this out earlier??

Well, here's why (and please keep in mind that I wasn't looking at the camera's view screen to see what it was capturing in the moment - I was just holding down the button and moving the camera to follow him as he ran by - so the captions are my thoughts as I was reviewing the pictures later):

"Oh good! This first one caught him on the left of the screen...but it's so blurry! Hmm..."

"Not as blurry...this is where he was getting ready to hand his backpack off...must've been bothering him to run with it."

"Hey, you're not my husband. Where did he go?"

"And you're not my husband's legs."

"No really: where did he go?"

"?"

"?????"

"@#%?!"

"Finally! But he's so blurry...and close! Was the camera on zoom?"

"What is that? His license? Why would he be handing off his license? Is it a note? Ok, Cheryl, that doesn't even make sense. Why would you think he'd written a note while running a half marathon? Jeez! (Stop to ask Wayne what it was) Ah, the remains of a Gu wrapper. Now *that* makes sense!"

"Well, darn."

"All that excitement about the Continuous Shooting function and I didn't even get a good picture of him!"

When Mary came by a few minutes later, I had zoomed the camera back out and it made a big difference:

So then it was a mad dash to the finish line to find a place to park the car and cheer them their last few steps. It was here that I remembered that, earlier in the week when I was commenting to Bret that I hoped the picture-taking worked out better this time around than it had for past runs, Bret had said we should just take a video.

Hmm...sure wish I remembered what Bret had said back at the beginning of the run! (I also need to note that Christina took the videos...my videography skills have yet to be proven under race-day pressure. Guess we'll see what happens in a couple of weeks!)

After the race, Gabe revealed his team spirit via his onesie:

After the the run we decided that we should spell it "Meemo" instead. Every time I see the onesie I chuckle...I still read it as "Memo" (i.e. memorandum - but you probably already knew that, right? Just making sure. Wouldn't want you confused as to why I'm chuckling. Although maybe that adds to my air of mystery. Or lunacy. Hmm...)

Good job Mary & Bret!

Woefully Overdue a.k.a. Playing Catch-up

2010-06-06T20:00:00.000-07:00

There are at least three events over the last few months that I want to post about but feel like it's a daunting task due to lots of pictures and lots of words (c'mon, do you really think I could post without lots of words?). So maybe soon you'll hear about the Mercer Island Half Marathon that Bret and his mom ran in March...Papa T's 60th birthday celebration in early April...and Bret's 36th birthday celebration in late April.

But until then, here are a few other snippets and cute pictures I found:

A visit to see Auntie Sara in the hospital in February. Sara had a kidney stone and ended up in the hospital to have it removed. We brought the Gabester for a surprise visit and a distraction from the pain. Timing must run in the family because in early May, Bret had a kidney stone (his second...the first was 7 years ago) and went to the ER three times in two days to get the pain under control. They decided to let Bret pass the stone on his own...thankfully it only took about a week, but MAN what a long week! I've heard that a kidney stone might be the closest a man can get to experiencing pain that's remotely similar to childbirth...I told Bret that I felt sorry for him because at least after I experienced all that pain, I got Gabe out of the deal...Bret only got a jagged rock.

Relaxing with a good (tasting) book. Gabe prefers to eat them rather than read them.

Aunt Laura: "Yup, my book's pretty good...how's yours?"

Gabe: "I'm on the last chapter (eating the tag), but I have to say that I'm disappointed with the author's over-indulgent use of imagery and alliteration...and this tag tastes like dried spit from the last time I chewed on it."

Playing with Grandma's reading glasses. Yet another example of an item that's cute on a kid but not as cute on an adult (sorry Mom, I think you're adorable and all - but I have never looked at you while you're wearing your reading glasses and wanted to exclaim "Ohhh, cute!!"). Overalls are another item that are cute on kids but not adults. At least not this adult. It's a shame, too, because they're so comfortable!

Out to dinner for Laura's 25th and Christina's 21st birthdays. We went to a really nice French restaurant in downtown Seattle and Mom's menu caught fire from the candle on the table. Yes, caught fire. Laura had the presence of mind to put her cloth napkin over the flame to smother it, and we all tried to act very nonchalant and inconspicous while the smell of burnt paper wafted through the restaurant. After the excitement, Laura and I noticed that Mom was sitting directly under a sprinkler head on the ceiling. Close call!

So, what was I saying about not being able to post without a lot of words? Even the caption option couldn't discourage me!

Simple Things

2010-06-04T19:00:00.000-07:00

One of the best things about Gabe is that he reminds me to find joy in simple things.

Today's example:

Hijacked

2010-06-02T20:00:00.000-07:00

I found these as I was uploading pictures from my camera to my computer. Looks like Grandma & Grandpa hijacked my camera for some candids last Friday:

The thing that made me second-happiest about finding these pictures (because, of course, what made me the most happy was finding fun pics of Gabe with my folks) was that I am not the only one who has trouble getting the camera and Gabe to cooperate at the same time, as evidenced by:

I ask again: what did parents (especially first time parents) DO before digital cameras? I shudder to think of what my investment would have been in film development, had Gabe been born a mere 6 years ago (before I got my first digital camera).

Perhaps this is the true reason Bret and I didn't meet until we were 30: so that I could save money by not having to develop tons of film. Yet another question to pose to God. Bret also wants to ask him why the need for eating, going to the bathroom, and sleeping; three activities that Bret says he could gladly do without. I always find this incredibly amusing, whenever the topic has come up. Something about picturing Bret, in the presence of GOD, asking about why we have to go to the bathroom...makes me want to giggle every time.

Blanket, revisited

2010-05-31T21:20:00.000-07:00

Since the 'blankets' post from yesterday, I've been thinking about how one of Michael Jackson's kids is nicknamed Blanket.

And how strange that is.

And how judgmental it is of me to think that's strange.

But c'mon, Blanket? As a nickname for your kid?

Perhaps Michael Jackson really liked blankets, and so he nicknamed his son that. And that's all fine and well and good. But, I like mint chocolate chip ice cream, and I'm not using that as an endearment for Gabe. (yet, at least)

Or perhaps Michael Jackson's son really liked blankets, and so they all started calling him Blanket. And that's all fine and well and good. But, Gabe likes Strawberry Apple Puffs, and I'm not using that as an endearment for him. (yet, at least)

Gabe likes to slobber and drool, and so I've used "Slobber King" and "Droolmeister". Gabe really likes Bret, and so I've used "Daddy's little worshipper" (but I'm not jealous, or anything). But never have I addressed Gabe as Slobber, Drool, or Bret.

Because that would just be strange.

There may come a day when I happen upon a nickname for Gabe in the same noun/object/item category as "Blanket"...and on that day I may even post a retraction.

But until then, I just can't wrap my head around it.

I mean, really...Blanket?!?

Blankets

2010-05-30T21:26:00.000-07:00

Gabe is the recipient of two new blankets!

This one is from my mom - it's soft and cozy and I love it for snuggling both Gabe and I into during his 5:30 AM bottle.

This one is from Juliann - she makes super cute, super hip baby blankets and I was so excited she made one for Gabe!

Jul and I got to visit recently and it was so fun to catch up for a bit! I got to meet her daughter, Lucy, and see her baby belly which currently contains daughter #2, due in August. Jul and I have known each other since the third grade in Mr. Clingen's class. Mr. Clingen read Where the Red Fern Grows out loud to the class and I do believe that even the boys were a bit teary-eyed at the end. If you haven't read it, please do. It's such a good story! Makes my top ten books of all time list. Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice is also on that list. As is the Bible. And, let's be honest, Stephenie Meyer's Twilight. Is it sacrilegious to have the Bible on the same list as Twilight?

(Please note that though this post may lead you to believe otherwise, we do actually dress Gabe in more than a diaper from time to time.)

...Makes Me Happy

2010-05-25T23:44:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been thinking about what makes me happy. It started when I was folding Gabe's laundry, which I totally enjoy doing.

No seriously, I dig it. I'm fairly sure that when he starts running around and putting grass stains on the knees of his pants I won't be so enthralled by his laundry. And I'm pretty positive that when he's a smelly, sweaty teenager I will be teaching him to do his own laundry. But for now, miniature socks and shirts and pants just make me feel all sorts of warm and happy inside.

So then I started adding to the ...Makes Me Happy list in my head, and of course "Sunshine On My Shoulders" came to mind. The thing is, sunshine on my shoulders really does make a person happy. That John Denver was really on to something.

Other items that made the list:

eating whip cream out of the can
fuzzy socks
getting a puzzle right the first time in the Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box game I'm playing right now on my DS (thanks for letting me borrow it, Christina)
watching Dancing With The Stars on Monday and Tuesday nights. Tonight's the season finale. I wonder what I'm going to do with my time now? I guess I could read, or finish that blanket I started knitting back in 1997, or something else more productive than sitting on my bum and watching TV. Now there's a thought.
going in to get Gabe in the morning and seeing that he's just laying there quietly, already awake and talking to himself or playing with his blanket (you really didn't think Gabe wasn't going to be on this list again, did you?)
going in to get Gabe in the morning and having him smile the biggest "I'm so happy to see you!" smile at me (you really didn't think Gabe wasn't going to be on this more than a couple times, did you?)

Oh man, all this talking about him and now I miss him. Bret and I have commented more than once to each other how funny it is when we'll put him down for a nap or to bed, thinking how glad we'll be to just have a few minutes to actually get something done, and then before long we'll be missing him. Those of you that have kids: tell me when that stops? During the terrible two's? The constant-question-asking four's? The bratty pre-teen years? The attitude-copping teenage years?

We went away for a long weekend with Paul and Mandy when she was pregnant with Micah, and Paul said at one point: "It's hard to be away this long; we miss the kids." And I remember being quite surprised and thinking 'Really? After 3 days? You guys never get a chance to be away as a couple, I would think you'd be relishing this and hoping you could extend the trip even longer!' My thought now is: kudos to you guys for making it three days and making it a priority to have couple time away from the kids - "hard to be away this long" seems like the understatement of the year to me, now.

I am off to add a map to my sidebar, idea courtesy of Paul. Remember - imitation is the sincerest form of flattery (ha - I originally wrote "mockery is the sincerest form of flattery"...somehow it just didn't look right!)

Smarter the Second Time

2010-05-18T22:03:00.000-07:00

After weeks of craning his neck, arching his back, r-e-a-c-h-i-n-g for things that he wanted....Gabe finally figured out how to get over his shoulder and roll over from his back to his tummy on Sunday morning!

I was smarter this time around and I went and got my camera right away to try to capture the event (last time he revealed his rolling skills it took me a while to get it on film).

Also based on my last experience with Gabe learning to roll, I assumed that he would share this new trick with us and then refuse further demonstrations. But, according to my mom, Gabe was a rolling maniac yesterday and even today (well - that sounds a little extreme...how about: he was a rolling enthusiast - there, that's better).

We shall see what the rest of the week holds!

(Please note, you may want to turn your computer volume down before watching this video. Like a good little mommy I cheer Gabe's accomplishment. And since I'm holding the camera, the microphone picks it up and it's really loud. Plus my voice sounds funny. And Bret's mouth, which you can see in the video, is open. So it looks like he's making the noise but really it's me. And the whole experience is just strange. But Gabe makes a cute noise at the end. So turn your volume on just loud enough to enjoy a little Gabe noise but just quietly enough so that I don't yell in your ear. And good luck finding that magic balance between the two without hurting your eardrums!)

Mom

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

When Gabe was around 2 months old, I spent a very long night trying to get him to settle down and give in to sleep. We had moved him into his crib in his bedroom at 6 weeks old, so comforting his middle of the night fussiness now meant groggily walking down the hall instead of taking two steps to the playpen from my side of the bed.

On this particular very long night, I remember 5 or 6 instances of hearing him fuss, immediately getting up, going in to pat him or give him his pacifier, him quieting down, me going back to bed, laying there for a few minutes trying to relax back in to sleep and thinking "He's still quiet, this 3rd (4th...5th...6th...) time might be the charm", and then he'd start fussing again and I'd repeat the pattern.

After the 5th or 6th time, I had an epiphany.

I got it. I mean, I got it. Really GOT it. For a brief moment I saw backwards and forwards in time and I truly, deeply, profoundly understood. And consider this: at that point, I had only had my baby for 2 months. So in the grand scheme of things, if we make a couple assumptions (admittedly, they're pretty sweeping assumptions, but go with me on this) and say that on average, a person's lifespan is 75 years, and on average, a person that has kids has 2 of them, then my epiphany was only really a .2%* understanding. A .2% understanding! That's less than half a percent! It's less than a third of a percent! So what I'm trying to get across here is that I had what felt like a HUGE moment of clarity, and really it was based on a very small amount of experience, so imagine what that clarity is like for parents that have watched their kids grow up, and have had more than 2 kids!!

So after all that, what was my big "A-HA!!!!" you ask? Well rest assured, I haven't brought you this far into this post to desert you now.

I realized that no matter how exhausted, weary, rundown (and every other synonym you can think of for tired) I might feel, and no matter how frustrated, exasperated, flummoxed and confused at how to help my baby relax and sleep I might be, I would keep trying, keep getting up, keep comforting, keep nurturing that baby...because that's what being his mom means. And in that moment I understood that this is what my mom felt for me. This is what my mom did for me. This is what my mom does for me.

I love my mom. And I tell her that. And I thank her for stuff. And I've been telling her I love you and telling her thank you for various things for years. But I didn't get the enormity of what what her motherhood has entailed until that moment. And I only understood .2% of it.

The moments after the big moment were spent welling up in tears. Lying there, waiting to see if Gabe would fuss again, a million examples of her sacrifice and giving came into my head; crashing like waves one after another, each one not able to be a fully formed thought before the next one rushed in.

Gabe is now almost 7 months old, which means I now have a .7% understanding****.

So Mom, I want to thank you for a little of that .7% that I've got experience with.

Thank you for every minute of sleep you gave up for me. Thank you for every meal you didn't eat or didn't get to eat until you were WAY past hungry because you were making sure I got fed. Thank you for every hug, every kiss, every cuddle. Thank you for every minute of alone time with Dad you gave up so that we could have family time. Thank you for enduring splashfests during bathtime. Thank you for cherishing my smiles. Thank you for singing to me. Thank you for reading to me. Thank you for keeping me safe. Thank you for finding delight in my giggles and laughter. Thank you for being in awe of the Miracle of Life. Because of your reverence, I truly believe that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Thank you for being excited and encouraging when I could first hold a spoon, hold a cup, reach for a toy...thank you for challenging my growth and expanding my horizons by putting that toy a little further away, and thank you for cheering my accomplishment when I determined to get that toy and succeeded. Thank you for having a sense of wonder and discovery and truly finding joy in trying to see the world through a baby's eyes.

Mom, thank you for caring for my son. Thank you for the privilege of getting to see, as an adult, some of how you likely interacted with me when I was a baby. The joy and delight you take in watching Gabe grow and learn; the way you talk to him; the way you play with him...I see it with an adult perspective and the child in me feels cherished and treasured.

I am so very lucky, so very blessed, so very honored to have you as my mother.

Circa 1975

*Assuming my lifespan is 75 years, and I had Gabe at 35 yrs old, I will have 40 years alive with Gabe (hopefully more, but I'm explaining my math in this asterisk footnote, so let's not get off track). That's 480 months, and if we assume the average of 2 kids per person that has kids, that's 960 months**. 2 months out of 960 total months is .2%

** I get that evenly doubling the months isn't completely accurate, because doubling it assumes that the 2 kids are born at the same time. How about you stop being so picky and just work with me, here?***

***Forgive the sarcasm...it's just that I'm tired of writing these explanatory footnotes and I want to go back to writing the post, so I'm a bit cranky.

****See*

Let's get right down to business, shall we?

2010-05-05T23:48:00.000-07:00

Last night I discovered that Gabe's hair is long enough for a mohawk.

I've started several posts in my head over the last couple of weeks, but that's as far as they get. And now that I'm sitting here in front of my computer, I don't remember much of what I wanted to say. Which of course means I can claim that it was all brilliant, ground-breaking, really insightful stuff. But I'm sure that really it was just mostly about Gabe. Like this for example:

Gabe's 6 month picture (which I took at the 6 1/2 month mark...details, details). I like the picture so much I made it EXTRA LARGE. Gabe's finally big enough for the Totten University onesie - wahoo!

A few fun facts about Gabe at 6 months:

At his well baby checkup appt he was 16 lbs 7 oz (35%) and 26.25" in length (50%). I'm amazed that he's only 35% for weight because (as you can see) he's got some good healthy baby chub on him. I asked the doctor what the 50% for weight would be and he said it's only about a pound more (17.5 lbs). Interesting.

Over the past several weeks we've gotten back into a good bedtime/sleeping routine - he typically goes down easily around 8 p.m. and usually sleeps until around 5 or 6 a.m. We are amazed sometimes at how active and smiley and playful and wired he can be right before bedtime and yet still (usually) go down with a minimum of fuss.

We have had a few grumpy baby episodes, and I keep expecting to see teeth show up to provide an explanation...but nothing so far.

Gabe loves, and I mean LOVES, his daddy. For example, Bret had picked Gabe up from mom's today so I could work a bit later. When I got home, Gabe was happy to see me and all, but when Bret handed him off to me Gabe IGNORED me and stared after Bret at the bedroom door for a good 45 seconds. Now, to be fair, there are times Bret has felt slighted because he'll be holding Gabe and Gabe will be more focused on me than Bret. I have a theory that Gabe is smart enough to have figured out that he can feel one parent holding him so that's why he keeps his eyes on the other. Of course, I also think my child is capable of winning a Nobel Peace Prize, an Olympic Gold Medal, and the Scripps National Spelling Bee, so of course I attribute his behavior to brilliance. My other explanation for his behavior is that he's far-sighted and can't actually see the parent holding him, so he looks at the one further away. So obviously, I like the "he's brilliant" answer better.

Love this picture. Love my boys. I need to find a better word, too, because "love" just doesn't say enough. I need a bigger superlative.

In other news, I got a new laptop today from work. It's got Windows 7 and Office 2007 on it. Everything is fluffy looking and I can't find all my old favorite shortcuts. And yes I realize that complaining about not liking my new computer is incredibly ungrateful. That's why I only intend to feel grumpy about having to learn a new system for another day. I promise.

And because now I feel like a cranky lady who doesn't like change, I think it's time for another picture of Gabe, who has been a major life change and one which I am not at all cranky about. Take that, Microsoft! It's not change I am annoyed at, it's just you and your fluffy-looking updated systems!

Gabe + Fuzzy Sleeper = Even More Huggable Than Usual, As Surprising As That Might Be.

Lastly, I'll leave you with this, which I'm pretty sure qualifies as What's Cool On The Internet, but Paul will have to be the judge of that.

Because it's Monday (or at least it was when I started this post, but four tries later on Tuesday morning is when I finally got the video to upload).

2010-04-26T21:49:00.001-07:00

A couple things to note about this video:

1) Because Gabe is wearing the same shirt that he wore in another video I recently posted, I want to just say for the record that we do put him in other clothes. It's just that apparently I only take videos of him in this shirt.

2) Nothing amazing happens in this video. I don't want you to watch it thinking that Gabe's going to start reciting the Articles of Confederation halfway through, or that a scary gremlin is going to pop onto the screen and yell "Boo!" (because trust me, around 1 minute and 20 seconds you will think to yourself: "Hmm. Is this it? Really? "). It's just 3 minutes and 16 seconds of me thinking my kid is worth recording. He does a little laughing and babbling for about a minute, and then he remembers the rice rusk in his hand and spends the rest of the time either trying to eat it, trying to pick food shrapnel from it off the tray, or banging it on the tray. Who knew it was such a versatile baby distracting device?

Ok, that is all.

I miss being pregnant...sort of...not really...actually, only for one reason.

2010-04-14T20:51:00.000-07:00

You know how there are some women who say they loved being pregnant? They loved how they looked, they loved how they felt, they loved feeling life growing inside them.

And then there are women that say they really did not care for being pregnant. They did not enjoy how they looked, most certainly did not enjoy how they felt, and were anxious to have the life growing inside them brought outside them so they could go back to looking and feeling their regular selves again.

Well I fall somewhere in the middle of the two. I'm glad I had the experience, I'm amazed by the Miracle of Life, and I feel privileged that I got to participate in it. But by about the 8th month, I was tired of worrying, tired of not being able to see my baby, tired of being uncomfortable, and just plain in general tired. I was ready to get Gabriel into the world and get on with it already (and I'm sure my antsy-ness is the reason he decided to stay put in-utero for a couple extra weeks past his due date!).

But lately...I miss being pregnant. Specifically, I miss one thing about being pregnant.

I miss the fact that people could see, just by looking at you, the reason for your: tired, vacant expression; scatterbrained-ness; lack of ability to concentrate on conversation; distractedness; undone hair haphazardly put up into a ponytail; lack of makeup; jeans and t-shirt and comfortable shoes; and stains on your shirt (am I the only pregnant woman who managed to end up with part of her meal on her shirt every day??).

When you're pregnant, you get oodles of sympathy and concern from everyone who sees you, because they can SEE the "why" behind the "what".

But now...no such luck.

Gabriel has a bunch of fun onesies that say things like "I love Grandma" and "Dad loves me" and "My Auntie is the Best". I am seriously considering having a t-shirt made for myself that says "I'm sorry, I'm having trouble paying attention to you because I have a new baby whom I think is fabulous and who consumes 90% of my thoughts. I am tired and didn't put makeup on this morning, but I don't really care what you think about that because my son smiles at me a lot and so it seems he doesn't care if mommy's eyelashes are Lash-blasted or not. And yes, that stain on my shoulder is where he spit up on me this morning after I thought I was in the clear and so didn't notice I'd been hit until after I'd left the house."

I have realized, though, that the time it would take for someone to read the t-shirt would be a really prolonged, awkward, staring-at-my-chest experience. So maybe I'll just swipe a fake baby bump from a maternity store dressing room instead and start wearing that around. Or make my own, since stealing one would be really weird (yeah yeah...and illegal too, of course). Imagine how much sympathy and concern I would get looking pregnant AND carrying a 6 month old baby!?

Dear Gabriel

2010-04-06T00:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Gabriel:

I need your help! I'm a new mom and I'm having trouble figuring out some of my baby son's behavior. He whines when he eats his solid food - does he not like the taste or am I not feeding him fast enough? He's stopped sleeping through the night - is he teething, or going through a growth spurt, or adjusting to our new routine because I've gone back to work?

Thanks,

Your Mother in Sultan, WA

That's right Gabe, this is your mother. I want you to know that I'm very proud of you for having your own column, but you're still in trouble for getting a job without asking your father and I first.

Hi Mom!

Now that you know about my column, can I have my own laptop? Haha, just kidding. Unless you'd really let me have my own laptop??

Actually, they told us in our "first time baby/first time parents" class in heaven that our parents would have trouble correctly interpreting all of our behaviors and noises. For a really long time.

A really, really, really long time.

But they assured us that our parents would be trying hard to figure us out, so our job was to keep communicating, even when we felt like giving up and just crying all the time.

The funny part is (not ha-ha funny, ironic funny), even though I have superb command of the written word at this early stage of my life, we were also instructed in heaven not to inform our parents in writing of how we feel or what we're trying to say.

Trust me Mom, that direction was as frustrating and seemingly ridiculous to me as I'm sure it is to you. But are YOU going to tell God that to His face? Exactly. Which is why all the babies in the class looked confused but just nodded in assent. He went on to explain that parents and babies learning from each other using only the basics of communication (facial expressions and tone of vocalizations) is part of what seals the bond between them. Makes complete sense! And you thought God's directions were silly at first. tsk tsk. I know I am playing with fire by teasing you in my column...after all, you're the one with all the embarassing pictures of me.

You may wonder why I'm allowed to explain all the above but I'm not allowed to just write you a note about what I'm thinking or feeling when I whine or cry. When I got your "Dear Gabriel" letter, I felt that printing and responding to it would be of value to all the new babies and new parents out there. So I asked God about it and He said okay. I don't think He's going to be thrilled about my teasing you - I think I'm dancing on the border of not honoring my mother and father a little here - but I know God has a sense of humor (have you seen how my hair's growing in? He for sure has a sense of humor!) so I'm just going to go with it.

Mom, don't worry...we'll figure each other out. You're doing a great job so far (I smile and laugh and I'm chubby...so obviously you're doing something right)!

Love you,

Gabriel

Lessons Learned

2010-04-01T22:11:00.000-07:00

1) The trick is heating the veggies.

2) Beans really are the musical fruit.

I can't decide which is funnier...

2010-03-31T20:17:00.001-07:00

...Gabe laughing at Bret's antics, or the antics themselves. Bret will make the funniest faces and noises to get Gabe laughing...and Gabe laughs and squeals up a storm. I finally went and got the camera after watching this for about ten minutes (I know, smart as a whip, that's me), and by that time Gabe was starting to get a bit fussy. Hopefully next time I will think to grab the camera sooner!