May and Me

I've been trying to practice intentional self care these past few weeks. (Don't I sound so in touch with my 2017 self in that sentence?) For real though, I know there are plenty of self-help books to tell me how to navigate the incredibly emotionally exhausting roller coaster of likely divorce, but none of them are actually written just for me and my marriage so it's still a lot of trial and error.

You know, like how I spent the first full weekend J-Man got with the kids alternating between watching Thirteen Reasons Why and packing all his things - therefore obsessing over memories in certain clothes and sobbing over tucked away love notes. That was a rough forty-eight hours...

Instead, I've been using the month of May to avoid sliding into depression or terrible binge teen tv-watching by keeping busy. First there was  SA's wedding (I guess I should call her Dr. S, or really double Dr. S with the whole MD/PhD amazingness she has going on). Then a friend invited me to a hot yoga class. I should clarify it wasn't technically bikram because the thermostat only read 99 degrees but that's hot to me. And despite having to occasionally take breathing breaks in child's pose, I was pretty impressed with how well I rocked those 75 minutes. Also all the cheesy yoga talk about feeling open and refreshed and centered really applied. So the next week I bought a yoga mat and my first official pair of yoga pants and have been trying out videos in my living room since. Even the boys have gotten in on the action.

A different weekend I went to visit FR in New York. Sadly EK wasn't there since she is a a professional wedding attendee (or so it seems) but FR and I had plenty to keep us chatting. Our lives may not be mirror images, but I know I found it therapeutic and comforting to talk and talk and walk and eat and talk the whole time. She shared a favorite breakfast spot with me and I shared a favorite with her from my and DrDrSA's time in NYC - only 2.5 blocks from FR! - and we mutually indulged in our love of Central Park and Broadway. The musical we saw was War Paint, and those impressive voices almost made us dip into Sephora to buy some face cream. Then we decided that until we're real make-up wearers, we'll save our cash and pray the wrinkles appear slowly and gracefully.

This weekend, while I didn't expressly celebrate fallen soldiers, I did hang out with veteran Big O and KB's family for a fantastic cookout. I also did a 24 hour trip to Winchester where the boys got their rural activity fill by burning trash, riding the Gator, walking to the mailbox with Granddad, and checking on the garden.

Today we hit up a favorite A-town spot and watched the planes take off above our heads. They love the loud noise and the feeling like you can reach up and touch the giant jet-liners.

That and tossing rocks in the river, quacking at ducks, waving at turtles, and making new friends. For me it was a nice break from their recent need to be Captain Underpants. All. Day. Long.

All this to say that I didn't magically flip a switch on my birthday and stop feeling sad or crying, but May's been good. I'm being good to myself. So here's hoping June's more of the same, if not better.

Good Riddance, 32

Guess who just finished celebrating her first solo birthday with her first solo wedding! That's right, this woman right here.

 (I was gonna write "this girl" but at 33, it's time I call myself a woman, I think.)

Now, I can't say that I survived the birthday weekend unscathed. I mean, I did sob while driving through the pouring rain at 8am after dropping off the boys, but a phone call to Big Sis and reassuring texts from KB and other friends helped keep it the only real cry of the day.

With that behind me I ventured out to get my hair relaxed at a new salon. And no, I haven't dyed the gray yet. Despite lots of people asking me. Just so you know, I don't plan on changing my mind any time soon, but feel free to keep asking. Seriously. The endless inquiries make me feel amazing. So young. So beautiful. So treasured for my intellect and personality. Can you tell how much I love being judged for something my body is doing naturally? I'm looking at you, random man at Target who felt the need to know if all that gray was real. Awesome.

Less sarcastically, I ate at the bar in Olive Garden while reading another Liane Moriarty novel and it was pretty fantastically self-indulgent.

So with my hair done and lasagna enjoyed I joined KB and O and hit the road to wild and wonderful WV for SA's wedding. There was a moment during the rehearsal when I realized I'd be walking down the aisle to the same song I walked down my own wedding aisle to and my eyes welled on instinct, but remembering it was SA's day and she is an incredible and wonderful friend, I told my emotions to save the pity party for another weekend and pushed through.

After that moment I honestly forgot it was my birthday for hours. We ate and laughed and crossed our fingers the weather would stay warm and sunny for Saturday (spoiler: it didn't). At the end of the night, back in the amazing cabin that we hope to revisit in September - according to Big O we will definitely be back, and fishing, with the little ones - we ate birthday cookies and it sunk in that I was 33.

The next day there were only tiny moments of heartbreak that sneaked in. I knew they would. I breathed them in and exhaled them back out. I accepted hugs from kind friends old and new, and I danced. A lot. With a confidence I owe to J-Man and eleven years of him insisting we always be on the dance floor within minutes of it being opened to the crowd. I wished I had someone to dance with. Then a new song would come on and I'd shoo that thought away and keep dancing.

I kept dancing.

And dancing.

And dancing.

Until the band packed up and we were the final twelve or so folks on the floor.

It kept my body warm in the crazy-cold, see-your-breath, wear-a-coat-through-dinner, night.

It kept my heart warm to be in motion. To cling to the songs about love and happiness and celebration, even if they all didn't feel 100% like current anthems.

SA's wedding was beautiful, and deserves more of a post than this, but what I realized about myself through the weekend is that for my 33rd year, I'm ready to be a doer. I'm ready to say yes. I'm ready to take the confidence I learned in the early years with J-Man, braving the chaos of Harlem and NYCTF, two cross-country moves, the madness of questionable fertility, the juggling act of two under two, and keep pushing forward.

I'm going to say yes more this year.

Yes, I'm going to NYC in two weeks.

Yes, I plan to have applied to grad school by my next birthday.

Yes, I will be on that committee or go to this yoga class or help out with those activities.

Even, yes I will recognize that I need a good cry, YA book and early bedtime to recharge before continuing to say yes to something else.

Yes, I will be happy this year.

Good riddance, 32. You brought too much heartache. You left too many scars. You demanded too many tears and compromises and surrenders.

Hello, 33. Bring on your adventures. Show me your hidden surprises. Tempt me with your possibilities. Teach me what to do with this bowl of lemons because I'm ready for the pitchers and pitchers of lemonade now.

Bring. It. On.

Cricket Lick-It

I love my J-Man for many reasons, but one is that he has the wildest appetite of anyone I know. Through him I've begun to eat sushi, Thai, jerky, Ethiopian, and learned that there are people on this planet who actually buy slim jims, eat corner store chicharrones for breakfast, pickle their own eggs in leftover pickle juice, prefer sparkling water with lemon to lemonade, and believe that adding hot sauce all over a meal is a compliment and not an insult to the chef.

Also, as of this summer, he's taught our boys to eat crickets.

See, hidden in those "Cricket Lick-it" lollipops are actual dead crickets. They were nervous at first. Who wouldn't be? MDG figured he'd do whatever PDG did though, and PDG wanted to be brave like J-Man so he went for it. He made it all the way to the cricket's head and kept on going.

MDG didn't quite get that far, but to be fair, MDG's cricket was embedded further down in the lollipop itself, and this was a near-bedtime treat that therefore had a built-in time limit. Maybe if we'd had all afternoon we could've found out just how brave he was.

Either way, I was impressed. We facetimed with Mama and Papa H who were impressed too. As for Big Sis, I have a great screenshot of her looking disgustedly sick as PDG licked away, but it's maybe not the most flattering so I'll spare the interwebs.

I'm not sure what delicacy they'll tackle next, but I can only hope that they don't start thinking that just any dead bug is fair game. Only ones trapped in hard candy and sold in trendy barbecue joints with just the right marketing to catch the eyes of a guy like their daddy.

NYC Revisited: Day Two

The morning after the wedding we slept in until a whopping 8:30. (Full disclosure I woke up at 5:45 and remembered I could keep sleeping, again at 7 and figured why not see what happened, and then at 8:30 knew that this was the latest my body could possibly understand how to stay asleep).

After a cute breakfast enjoying outdoor seating and people-watching we lazily set up our plan for the day. It revolved around eating, and particularly tracking down a portobello mushroom sandwich with mozzarella and tomato and zucchini that had once made me briefly consider being a vegetarian. We've thought about this appetizer for years and were so excited to see that even though restaurants like Orbit and Creole and One Fish Two Fish are no longer in existence, Ricardo's still was.

J-Man and I soon set off to walk from 80th and Broadway across the park and uptown to 110th and 2nd. We stopped to take some photos, though J-Man reminded me that we didn't need many. After all, we once lived here, and we can come back whenever. Still, I wanted to capture some cuteness.

By the time we'd crossed the park my legs were already laughing at me and my suburb-driving self that doesn't exercise. My hips were like "you know we could've taken a cab right? or a bus or train or uber or horse carriage..." I grabbed a Snapple from a street vendor and told those legs to shove it. I'm still as city fit as I was at 22. In my mind.

Crossing back uptown was a fun adventure. The shift in color and culture of the people on the street came a little farther north than it used to, and people were actually brunching outside above 96th street. But soon enough we were back in our neighborhood. We blended in again, the Spanish chatter started to pick up, and the city transformed into what somehow once was home. Sure enough, as we turned the final corner, there was Ricardo's just as we'd remembered it.

Actually, it was busier than we remembered. And there was a DJ playing poppy hip-hop music. We waited for a table and looked over the brunch menu only to find... what?! No portobello?!?!? How had we not considered once that the menu could have changed in the eight years since we'd last visited? We had to laugh and roll our eyes at ourselves. Of course New York was changing without us. Luckily, the menu was still delicious, and while I'm not a food-picture-taker in general, I did snap this little beauty. Maybe it'll still be around in eight more years?

We walked another six blocks north to see if Mojitos was still around too. That place was our staple once upon a time. Work happy hours, late night tacos, flaming cucarachas. Not only was it going strong, but 116th had some sort of street fair happening. It reminded me of the week after I moved in and the Puerto Rican festival just popped up outside my window. I know when Papa H dropped me off in Harlem the day after my ivy-covered college graduation we were all a little nervous about the neighborhood, but I felt nothing but happy memories standing on the corner.

And J-Man had nothing but good memories standing on his own old stoop too, just a block away from mine.

In case you're wondering, my legs insisted that we cab it back and relax for a few hours next. We watched Spotlight and dozed before starting up friend time. Highly recommended by the way.

Our next food focal point was Tony's Di Napoli. I know there's tons of great Italian food in this city so not everyone will agree, but this one is our favorite. It was always a reliable meal I could take my parents to without exotic cuisine fusions dominating the menu. V joined us - providing stories that could prove to our other college friends that she does still exist and work and isn't on a top secret government assignment - and so did Miss F.  We ordered our favorite zucchini chips and ziti and J-Man's only acceptable chicken marsala. Conversation floated from stealing babies to AMNH exhibits to new job opportunities and of course, the boys we missed so dearly. Also, because V is quite elusive - I took some proof of life.

Back on the west side we finally got to see EK and her husband and thank them for letting us treat their apartment as our personal hotel for the weekend. EK, Miss F and I ate sweets and caught up on life while the boys chatted and discussed the Olympic gymnast's compound fracture.

It was all quite lovely. A perfect little trip. And exhausted we all headed to bed happy.

Oh, and because I like snapchat still, here's my story :)

NYC Revisited: Day One

Earlier this year a few girls in my first period class taught me all the wonders of Snapchat. This obviously made me feel old, but also brought me around to capturing the fun moments in life as they arise, writing all over them, and then adding stickers. Like this...

And while instagram is trying to steal the Snap thunder with their story feature, I've only just recently gotten the hang of these, and won't be converting to anything new too soon. So, since you probably aren't one of the four people who ever look at my snaps, let me use them to tell you a little about J-Man's and my trip back to NYC.

First off, it should be noted that Facebook reminded me that J-Man and I have been friends for ten years now. And that's pretty exact, because back in '06 I was pretty quick to add a friend right after meeting them in order to preserve that connection forever. I was in a brand new city, he was a crazy guy who invited me to see spectacles, we were both on a journey to make a difference and be grown-up teachers. Oh, and he had air conditioning.

Ten years later we were back to see another Teaching Fellow, E-Drizzle get married. We hopped on an Amtrak train, left the little guys behind, and set forth into nostalgia.

Within minutes of hailing our first cab (J-Man didn't want to subway and I felt weird using Uber in the world of yellow taxis) we remembered just how loud and smelly and hot and vibrant the city is. We dodged a street fair and multiple ambulances as we swerved our way to the Upper West Side to stay in our friend EK's lovely apartment. There we'd stay alongside another couple attending a different NYC wedding while EK and her husband were off at yet another wedding in Wisconsin.

Within the next hour we bumped into my friend V - who tends to disappear for months at a time - so it was pretty amazing that our paths crossed at all. We promised to catch up later and continued on our way.

E-Drizzle's wedding was lovely, even though we ended up inside rather than the outdoor park as they'd hoped. It was me, J-Man and two other former NYCTF English teachers and we hung out and talked books. My self-published one, another's upcoming poetry one, and another's currently in the query phase one. After some bouts of not feeling very accomplished in life lately, that conversation reminded me to snap out of it and enjoy the things that have made me happy. I wrote a book. It exists, imperfections and all, and it's ok to feel proud of that.

I proceeded to eat too much, meet new people, dance a bit, smile a ton, and have a fantastic time in the upstairs bar reception. The whole event was incredibly New York, and incredibly them and came along with the beauty of remembering my own vows in the place where I met the man I would love more passionately than I could have ever imagined.

cab ride home - 2016

cab ride home 2006

The day was wonderful, the company too, and it was only the first of the fantastic trip.

Silly Cakes

PDG and MDG both love to play on J-Man's and my phones. Maybe we shouldn't let them? I don't know. Regardless, they do. They used to love to scroll through photos of themselves. Then they moved on to some toddler apps that teach colors and numbers and the stuff that you're not supposed to expect a device to teach them, but in reality what can a little screen-reinforcement hurt on the topic? Sometimes they make their way to Netflix for some Daniel Tiger, Super Why, Chuggington or even occasionally the short-lived and intense Russian series Masha's Tales.

And also, as I've probably mentioned before, they love youtube. The thing about youtube is it remembers what you've watched before, and gives you suggestions. If, heaven forbid, I've watched a grown-up video (don't think badly of me here, I'm talking the soundtrack to Last Five Years, or the video for Bieber's Love Yourself or anything else that doesn't feature puppets or nursery rhymes) the boys get upset wanting to know where their videos are and insisting I get back to those bright and animated suggestions.

But once the suggestions pop up, especially when MDG takes the lead, it's a rapid fire roulette of clips. One video leads to another, to another, often with none of them being finished, until they land on either a) something they love or b) something they've explicitly been told to avoid. Again, don't go to bad places with this. I'm talking videos of people opening toys or eggs and showing how they work. Somewhere in the world millions of children or adults are watching these videos, but they are strictly prohibited in the G household. Want to know how toys work? Go play with any of the ones currently sitting stagnant in either of the giant toyboxes we own.

So, anyway, one day the boys got really quiet - never a good sign - and when J-Man and I realized they were watching what must've been an off limits video, we checked it out. Sure enough, it was someone explaining how something worked. Only the product wasn't in English packaging. And it wasn't a toy. It was Japanese gummy sushi candies. PDG explained that they were silly cakes, and the name stuck.

Also, surprise surprise, J-Man decided he had to get his hands on this treat. He went to the always trustworthy Amazon, ordered some silly cakes from Japan, and we waited the weeks for them to arrive.

They were a success. The boys loved them. It was daddy son bonding time. And apparently they taste good to grown-ups too. Plus, with the magic of youtube, we knew we could find videos in English of how the whole thing works.

Since then we've ordered them twice more, and the boys love making silly cakes with daddy. There's measuring and mixing and near chem-lab precision, and in the end, a tiny tasty treat. Highly recommended.

And, for my one Texas friend who will have any idea what I'm talking about, making these is like mashing together memories of our Thursdays in NYC at Wasabi Lobby and that Tasti D-Lite with all the gummies by the pound. Now all we need is a way to incorporate Grey's Anatomy and its decline into whine central...

Signs I'm Getting Old(er)

1. I put in my leave request this week for my upcoming tenth college reunion. Tenth!

2. My impulse buy at the grocery store was brie and water crackers.

3. I celebrated my thirty-second birthday.

4. I didn't care much about eating cake on my birthday. Although I still did.

5. My back hurts enough these days for me to request a massage as a present.

6. I fell asleep around 8pm on my birthday and felt no shame whatsoever. I was tired.

7. The early morning and late evening commute radio stations play throwback jams that now match my middle and high school years. Not my older siblings'. Not my parents'. The nineties are nothing but serious nostalgia now.

8. I spent the Saturday between Mother's Day and my birthday home alone, avoiding Chuck E. Cheese with its bright lights and terrible pizza and overwhelming noise like the plague.

9. While avoiding the big C.E.C. reward adventure (30 bedtime stickers for PDG!!), I instead took pleasure in catching up on laundry. Pleasure!

10. Did I mention already falling asleep at 8pm? Or is this early memory loss? And am I talking to myself now? Eek, this aging thing is scary!

...

But in reality, I know I'm young. I have another year full of many great memories in the bank, and plenty of reason to look forward to all that being 32 entails. Bring it on!

PDG Turns Four!

Well, it happened. My little baby PDG got all grown on me and now is a whopping four years old. He's still my little PDG Pie though, and I still want to eat him up!

At any rate, turning four apparently means a lot of celebrating. I mean, there was the sleepover the week before, and then the anticipation of a daily countdown from then until the 12th.

On Friday we took some cupcakes (because PDG insisted that this year he wanted cupcakes and cake) to his daycare. All the big kids happily sang to him, especially knowing they got a treat for having done absolutely nothing. That's the best part about birthdays right - getting treats just for existing? Even better when it's just for someone else existing.

Saturday PDG awoke fully aware it was the big day, and unable to contain his excitement. By the time Mama and Papa H arrived, we knew there'd be no nap. Instead, we made cupcakes.

Before the official party at 5pm, we had to give in and do some presents early because somebody just coud not wait another minute.

Sidenote: PDG's current fascination with puzzles is driving J-Man's fight against tiny toy pieces struggle to the limits.

We decided on a not-quite party this year. Paw Patrol ribbon, TMNT napkins, and Batman plates with a random pin the tail on the donkey and tons of fruit and pizza made for an odd assortment of decorations and a menu.

PDG loved it though. LOVED it. And with his very very best friend Lil O, as well as his neighborhood church crew and a happy-to-tag-along Charlie, it was the most kid activity our backyarad has seen yet. And by far the most our living room has endured. Thank heavens for Lego Movie on DVR to keep us warm as the sun started to set.

All in all, a great day celebrating a great kid.

And before I forget, his stats. He's 40lbs even - 81% - and 44 inches tall - 98%. He could answer most of the doctor's questions, but clearly I need to get him a tutor so he knows how to answer "what gallops?" next time. (Honestly, can doctors give us a cheat sheet ahead of time so I can teach to the test? Not that I do that as a teacher or anything, but my competitive edge totally took over and I really wanted my kid in the 99% in the 'random doctor questions at a checkup' category too. I'm just sayin'...)

Hugs and kisses to my big little baby.

One Last Snow

Every year around Valentine's Day Big Sis and her husband come to DC for a week for a work-related thing, and every year they bring crazy cold weather. It's true. Every single year. Meteorologists might try to convince you that this has always been the case around President's Day weekend, but I dunno. I think it's Big Sis.

And this year was just like before. Except, that is, without me having to take her to the hospital and get her treated by my doc on the L&D floor and forcing her to finish her turkey sandwich so we could all go back home on that snow day.

This year, we had our annual brunch with Mama and Papa H, KB's family, Big Sis's and mine where, like we have every single year since beginning this tradition, we showed up with more kids than the year before. Table for thirteen anyone? One sling, one high chair, three sets of crayons and lots of delicious Clyde's food and conversation.

Afterwards we all fought the cold by cramping together in my tiny house for Mama H's surprises: layered cake and iced sugar cookies. Of course the naptime countdown began and some wailing commenced, but once the babes were all locked away, and sadly that meant KB and fam heading out, we did manage to get a game of Scattergories going.

You guys, do you hear that? It's the sound of me celebrating convincing my family to play a competitive board game with me!!! (It's also me entering the 2000s and learning how to save and use gifs - expect my blog to be revolutionized with short animated visuals (also no, there's no actual sound, don't worry, I'm not that fancy))

Anyway, it was all in all a great day. And much like the last time Big Sis was in town, and like the previous years she visited, it was immediately followed by snow.

Monday, a day I already had off school of course, was a beautiful snow day. Three or four inches of pretty, light, fluffy stuff just dancing outside the windows.

We didn't get many snowstorms this year, and one could argue winter isn't officially over yet, but the few we got were still dazzling and perfectly punctuated by this sweet little white blanket.

Also, by some strange miracle, we got Tuesday off school too, which naturally meant we hung out around the house like this.

Isn't that how you dress on your days off? Boots, helmets, and Christmas pajamas? Ok, good. Me too.

So... spring?

Sadmark Mall

The mall where I get my hair done is the saddest place on earth. This has nothing to do with my own feelings about getting my hair done. It's just really empty, and really depressing.

It shouldn't be quite so bad. It's easily accessible from 395, has tons of parking, three stories, a Macy's... you'd think the shops would stick around. Instead the shops are mostly hair-related. Salons, barber shops, wig shops, eyebrow threading, etc. Besides that, just a lot of empty, boarded up commercial space.

So based on previous experiences at this mall, we've decided there are only four reasons a person ventures here

1. hair business
2. speedwalking in constant circles
3. the small toddler play area
4. chick-fil-a

Unsurprisingly, #3 tends to lead into #4. Except, when we went last weekend during the great Snowzilla Thaw, we hung out with KB's and another family, until the kids started getting bored and hungry and wandering away. We happily put shoes back on, headed up the escalators to the food court to find... Cajun Mongolian. Everything else was out of business. No frozen lemonade and nuggets for this lot.

I felt badly for the lady from Cajun Mongolian, the place where J-Man would have happily eaten regardless of CFA's fate. She tried her best to lure us over with samples with no luck. As our three families stood, trying to make pre-meltdown lunch plans for the kiddos, we watched her try and fail to convince the next few groups of people riding up the escalator to find the same sad fate of our tasty lunch dreams. They were equally disappointed and uninterested in a replacement.

We soon trudged out of the mall en route to a cheap buffet in hopes that we'd all get full enough for Saturday naps,  and J-Man told me he didn't want to ever come back. Not that the kids were bad or he misses juicy chicken sandwiches, but the place just makes him sad. Deeply, profoundly, sad.

But let's face it, depressing as it may be, I'll be back. Even without a chick-fil-a, my house is too small to survive winter without the occasional sad or strange indoor play area. We'll just pack some sandwiches next time and pretend malls are supposed to be that devoid of actual economic activity.

Conversation Snapshots

Here are some sample conversations from this week:

The first day

4:30pm - Me: Mama doesn't feel like cooking. How about Happy Meals?

PDG and MDG: Yeah!

5:00-5:05pm - silent stuffing of faces. Nuggets. Fries. Sauce. Gogurt. Apple Juice.

5:08pm - PDG:  Mommy, my tummy hurts.

5:09pm - PDG: Bleggghhhh (is that how you type the sound of massive projectile vomiting?)

5:11pm - PDG: Mommy, I'm hungry. Can I have some dinner?

The Next Day - via text

Mama H: I can't put your book down!

Me: Really?! (book and smiley emojis)

Mama H: Yes. Dad called for me to help him and I made him wait! I can't believe she [spoiler]! Gotta go. Can't wait to see how this goes.


The Next Day in a last minute faculty meeting

Assistant Principal: We need each of you to use one of your planning periods to make continuous laps of the school checking every stall in every student bathroom and noting the time and what you find.

My inner monologue: I can tell you what I'll find in girls' bathrooms, and it will be disgusting, smelly, and likely bloody. Also, I miss New York and its union, where no one could make me do this crap without extra pay. Yes, a bathroom pun. Let's see how many of these I can work in until this temporary duty is over. Doo-ty. Score, another one.


The Next Day in a lesson on formal commands and giving directions around town

Student who mostly communicates through grunts: Sra G, you're the best Spanish teacher.
Me: We're all good. We just have different styles.
SWMCTG: No, you're the best.
Me: Well, then, gracias. Now back to work.

So yeah, a week of ups and downs.

MDG Turns TWO

I don't know when or how it happened, but MDG turned two!!!!!

(Ok, that's a lie, it happened on Dec. 2nd, but the how is still confounding me. Like, he was just born. I was just pregnant. He should still be my baby. Period)

A little bit about my MDG

He's big. He weighs almost 30 pounds (twenty-nine point something) 78% and measures right at 36in - 91%. Head size in the 50% but we blame that on J-Man :)

(Unrelated, anyone see that link going around facebook that using sideways smileys is not cool anymore? Just like using periods in text messages. Oh well. :))

MDG still doesn't really like to eat. I don't know how he's so giant when I swear all he does is drink milk. When I told the doctor he has four cups a day (actually five lots of days - I'm just not great at being 100% honest with doctors) she gasped aloud. So that's one goal, less milk. More water and food. He loves broccoli though. And fruit of all kinds. He's warming up to meat and other vegetables. He must eat at daycare. But when all else fails and your totally kid-friendly meal gets spurned while PDG inhales it and asks for seconds, MDG will go for a well-rounded plate of string cheese, yogurt, krab, clementines, and a gallon of milk.

He talks a lot now. He sings a version of the ABC's that just repeats ABC over and over, but he can throw in other letters when you sing with him. He thinks every letter he sees is a P and counts "one, two, seven, three" more often than not. He's expanded his color guessing to go "green? purple? green? blue? green? purple?" To help him out we often ask him about something green or purple when he gets frustrated.

When you cough or sneeze he'll ask if you're ok, and also right after he tackles J-Man. Before he tackles J-Man he'll usually ask "ready?" too. The answer doesn't affect the impending full-body flinging. He likes to help "wakie up" the Santa and snowman decorations in our yard, and will ask if it's good morningtime when I go in at 5:30 to get them dressed. He pops up with a smile and is ready to start the day. I'm telling you, he may look like an H, but he's got G genes dominating in the personality.

He's pretty into Super Y, Daniel Tiger, and Elmo on TV, and then anything his brother is playing with for toys. He had a brief scared-of-bugs phase a month or so ago, but unlike with his brother's, I was totally calm this go-round.

MDG continues to be our passionate child with the high highs and the low lows and no middle ground. He lights up our lives and I can't imagine life without him. Happy (belated) birthday to my darling, not-so-baby boy.

MDG Summer of Crazy

The summer was hard for MDG. We're still not completely sure why. I suppose that the 18-21 month time frame is pretty overwhelming for babies. They're trying to talk, and failing, They're trying and failing to do just about everything independently, and no one knows what the heck they want.

this day apparently, he wanted an entire tub of aquaphor

At Big Sis's house, there was no pack n play or high chair, so he got thoroughly confused. Papa H started lying down with him on the air mattress for every nap and bedtime, which got him crazy spoiled. Then he got to sit on someone's lap at every meal, which got him even more spoiled. Throw in a couple tantrums and this mama was about to lose her mind.

Everyone there knew MDG as this happy-go-lucky fun kid, and then here I was with a little monster. Yes, we understood it was a phase, we aren't totally clueless, but the phase was passing slower than it had with PDG.

I don't think it helped that there was no daycare structure to his day. I tried the Camp Nicole approach, but things are always different with mom than with acaregiver. At church, when I tried to drop him off with his brother in Nursery, he flipped out. Lots of babies cry, and they're used to it, but this was the sort of irrational screaming that meant they came and found me to say either I stay with him down there or he'd have to stay with me in my Sunday School classes.

that's the wax from one of hundreds of cheese snacks we ate this summer

When it came to meal time, he mostly just wanted cheese. Not much else. Maybe yogurt. Some milk. Really he would've been happy if we just bought a cow for the backyard to be his own personal dairy supplier.

No matter what we were doing, he needed me. At the park, in the living room, walking from the van to the house. If I wasn't touching him there was a good chance he was crying. Even around other people he loved.

When he climbed out of his crib I thought I'd lost my mind. PDG never did that. PDG never did anything I mentioned in this post. PDG was this weirdly easy kid that I thought was a typical kid and now I had a typical kid that felt like an off-the-charts psycho. Had I changed? Was I a totally different parent? Could I fix it?

Nope, nope, nope. Turns out, kids are different. I should know this. Big Sis reminds me of how different she and I are all the time. My parents probably turned to each other almost daily back in the mid 80's saying, wow, Nicole sure is different than Big Sis.

At any rate, we did survive it. He's now back sleeping through the night in his toddler bed. He doesn't try to run out of the room purely because he's awake; instead he lies there patiently with PDG until given the go ahead to come out. He sits in his own grown-up chair at the table where he doesn't eat everything, but he does eat more than in July. He'll stay in Nursery with his brother as long as I disappear ninja-style while he's distracted. If he cries, he can be calmed with some snuggles.

The only battle still remaining is probably the scariest: the car seat. He unbuckles himself. We thought he was mad about me still keeping him backwards, so I gave in last week, two months short of turning two. And yet, still, I found myself pulling off the highway a few days ago because PDG (my resident whistle-blower) announced MDG was being unsafe. Sure enough, happy as a lark he'd still chosen to undo the clip and couldn't put it back together himself. If he were older I could reason with him better. As it is, it's tough to find the balance of scary enough discipline to fit how scary the consequence of this could be. I have no idea if I'm handling it right at all.

I'm hopeful, in the end, that this is part of a stage too. One that ends super duper fast.