Sunday Afternoon in Pleasantville

The house has this rare "perfect mom" feel to it today. Clean wood floors and newly vacuumed rugs (clearly someone needed a little alone time), a running dishwasher, the hushed sounds of a snoozing baby playing over the monitor and the smell of baked oatmeal with raspberry and walnut wafting into the playroom.

Clean floors! Rejoice! Perfect for a game of Boggle...or, to stare in confusion at this thing that your parents call a game, but doesn't seem to be a game at all...

I love that moment when batter becomes baked good. You mix your eggs, milk, flour, sugar etc. grease the 9x13 and place this promising pan of gloppy goop into a preheated oven. I am so impatient in those first few minutes (this is why I do best with cookies--10 minutes to bliss), but I find, each time, that the wait is SO worth it. As soon as I catch the first tantalizing whiff of my baking treasure, I shift into relax.

Fresh out of the oven. Baked Oatmeal with Raspberry and Walnuts

Right now, the aroma of cinnamon, brown sugar and raspberry is making a lovely introduction. With it comes the giddy excitement of a three-year-old who was promised sweet things if listening ears proved to be "on" and the contentment of a mom who rarely gets to make such promises--not because of poor behavior, but because of limited time to do things that moms are supposed to do.

Soon the dishwasher will need to be emptied, the rug will be a less than chic dog hair shag, the baby will cry and the oatmeal will be gone, but, for now, I'll just enjoy the perfection.

Baked oatmeal, will you marry me?

Heaven is a noisy vacuum cleaner

I am confused by my relationship with the vacuum cleaner.

I hate having to use it, because I know that there is a definite time commitment that I'm making once I turn it on.  I can't just vacuum " a rug", I have to do the entire room, furniture included.  Having two shedding dogs creates a need for a wall to wall, floor to ceiling approach to hoovering.  If we didn't vac, we'd be up to our ears in hair within a week.  Seriously, it's awful...and gross.  It's awfully gross.

Once I'm done vacuuming, I instantly feel better, lighter, more carefree.  Minimal dog hair=maximum positive vibes from mom. Long term gains.

Today, however, I became aware of yet another gain in "pro" list of the house cleaning pro/con debate. 

Everyone leaves you alone.

No one bothers you when you vacuum. In our house, both dogs and Hen seem to be afraid of the thing, Alice is still too young to be affected at all but she's not inclined to army crawl her way towards the noise and Mike knows to stay out of my way. Usually when I'm vacuuming it means that I'm totally stressed out and fed up with the dog hair tumbleweed rolling across our wood floors and gathering in the corners of our rugs. Mike is no dummy.  He steers clear as soon as he hears the whoosh and whir of the vac.

I've just finished the living room and am feeling calm, cool, hair-free.  Thank you vacuum cleaner. You are my ally, my counselor, my superhero grime-fightin' machine.

Your own personal Internet

I sent this message via email to a few of my co-workers last night but am now realizing that it's totally blogworthy. We should probably quote crazy politicians more often.

 Email:

Greg made my life sunnier when he casually used the phrase "series of tubes" in our iPad meeting this morning. And so, since I feel it's been far too long since we first were touched by the wise words of former Sen. Ted Stevens (may he rest in peace). I am sharing the following in its (near) entirety:

Ten movies streaming across that, that Internet, and what happens to your own personal Internet? I just the other day got… an Internet was sent by my staff at 10 o'clock in the morning on Friday. I got it yesterday [Tuesday]. Why? Because it got tangled up with all these things going on the Internet commercially. […] They want to deliver vast amounts of information over the Internet. And again, the Internet is not something that you just dump something on. It's not a big truck. It's a series of tubes. And if you don't understand, those tubes can be filled and if they are filled, when you put your message in, it gets in line and it's going to be delayed by anyone that puts into that tube enormous amounts of material, enormous amounts of material. Best.Thing.Ever.

Ahem..hello?

Is this thing on?  Helloo-oooo?  Anyone still out there?

Radio silence for just under a month, and it's not that I haven't thought about the blog. I'd like to say (or, more aptly, I had prepared to say) that I've been so busy with my "40 bags in 40-ish days" project that I haven't had time for any other recreational activities.

False.

I have actually crossed a few things off the list, and am pleased with the progress of decluttering.  It got a little overwhelming there in the beginning when husband, inspired by my commitment to organization, decided to purge all of the basement clutter into the living room/dining room/porch.  Most of it has found its way to the Goodwill, or back to the basement, save for one lonely box of Kitten's 3-6 month clothing which just can't seem to get back to its home.  (ha!)

I can't really recap a month of stuff.  Mike completed his final of four summer classes. It still astounds me that he spent the past few months as both a full-time stay at home dad AND a full-time grad student.  Amazingly we still got to go on a nice long vacation and he got straight A's (along with much praise from all of his professors).  I couldn't be more proud of him!

Hen has been doing things that are decidedly "very Hen".  He's still golfing, also playing baseball and making up a lot of really clever jokes. He's memorizing his favorite songs and books and asking us how to spell certain words (uh-oh).  This week he moves into the next room at daycare--the room that you turn four in--I can hardly believe that my boy is this big. It's just not possible.

On to his sister. Oh sweet Alice. Alice is phenomenal.  No, really, she is.  She is phenomenally huge, phenomenally smart, phenomenally cute.  We've changed her middle name to Phenom, that's how outrageously phenomenal this kid has become (or, arguably, always was). One fun development over the summer has been Alice's increasingly sassy attitude. She comes from sassy genes (long line of 'em), so this shouldn't surprise us at all. When a student recently asked me "How do Henry and Alice spend their day?" I thought for a moment and then said "Henry plays every sport known to man, stopping occasionally to request sustenance and Alice makes sassy faces and sounds while army crawling around the house looking for things to eat...not always edible things, just 'things' in general."  This is still accurate.

As for me, life has been busy with increased numbers of visitors to campus and preparations for the fall. I'll be traveling, which I can't even talk about yet because it means that I'll be away from my kids and hubs for a period of time and I haven't yet come to terms with that reality. Aahh!  Stop talking about it!! Since part of my job has involved social media and writing (a part that I absolutely adore) my excuse for being absent has to do with the "work-life" balance that I try so desperately to find. Writing/blogging was feeling very "work" to me for a while, and I just needed a break. I'll post more about that later, but will say quickly that I'm REALLY excited about new developments at work and am looking forward to doing more in the area of marketing and communications.

Well, that's it.  Back to the kitchen to clean up dinner mess and gather things for tomorrow. Thanks for hanging in there while we were incognito! Good to be back.

40 Bags...40(ish) Days

I have been totally uninspired this past week. Maybe it's due to post-vacation blues. Maybe it's the exhausting, imposing, heat and humidity keeping my creativity at bay. For whatever reason, I just could not write this week.  Come to think of it, I couldn't do much of anything this week.

I am pushing myself out of this hazy, heat-induced, post-vacay creative slump. Pushing, I say. Yesterday, out of the blue, I remembered that cute little summer "to do" list I created back in mid-April (when I was sleep-deprived and crazy). Damn! It's August! I've done next to NONE of those things.  Summertime fail!! Recognizing an opportunity to get my "push-out-of-slump" on, I selected a few of the things on this list that we had yet to do and confidently wrote them up on the blackboard in the kitchen as our to-do for the week.

1. Make a kite & fly that kite 
2. Go on a bug hunt with Hen
3. Goodwill bag
and as a "maybe if you have enough time": 4. Make ice cream

Perhaps a bit high from the excitement that comes along with actually doing the things you say you'll do (shock! awe!) I took one of these tasks a bit further.

Behold! Forty Bags in Forty(ish) Days! (the "ish" because I know myself too well)

Forty locations throughout our home (including vehicles).  In each of these places, an opportunity to declutter. It's simple, really. I go to the cabinet under the kitchen sink and I take everything out, isolate and organize the stuff that we use/need, donate what I can, ditch the rest. Some locations are easier than others (basket in first floor bathroom is a five minute job...my dresser, a different story) but having all of these locations more organized will certainly help us feel less frazzled.

With that said, I'm going to go select a few of these on the list that I can take care of before Kit's nap is over. If there is one thing I enjoy more than making random lists, it's crossing things off of them!

We're Baa-aaack

Guess who has returned from va-caay-caaay?! That's right, our favorite little friends, Hen and Kitty. A week in the Outer Banks at Finis Terre (Latin for "End of the Earth") leaves us sun-kissed and in a bit of a beachy daze.  This was the perfect vacation, and the first with Liam and Alice, which made it especially wonderful.

There are many things that I enjoy about the beach. A general disregard for time is one of them. Keeping time at the beach matters very little. The clock doesn't limit our activities or dictate where we must be and when we must be there. There is not "9 o'clock" or "half-past three" at the beach. When you want to eat lunch, it's "lunch time", when you want to go to the beach, it's "beach time", when you want to nap, it's "nap time".  You're saying, "Hey, time, I really don't care that it's only noon and that I ate breakfast, oh, two hours ago, I'm having a margarita." It's my favorite part of beach vacation (second only to the memories we create with our family...and the aforementioned loose rules regarding how late it must be for one to enjoy a cocktail).

As for our schedule-loving kids, they did quite well. Naps still happened (for Kitty, at least...Hen held out for most of the week) and food was ready before bellies could eek out the first grumbly growl. Hen was a huge fan of beach time and took to the ocean like...well...a fish to...you know.

I took a ton of instagram photos throughout the week and posted many to my facebook page, but I've put many of them into a slideshow (previously posted) and included photos that Megan and Brigid snapped.  Hope you enjoy a little recap of our week of relaxation. If you haven't vacay-ed yet this year, maybe it will inspire you to do so!

Finis Terre 2011

Little slideshow of some of the photos taken throughout the week.

Make photo slide shows at www.OneTrueMedia.com

10 to 30

In ten minutes it will be July 15th. In ten minutes I will be thirty.

I've thought about this more than I would have expected. I'm not one to let something as silly as a number get in the way of the pleasure that comes with a day that is all about me (honestly, in my world, isn't every day about me?) ;)

I think I'm over-thinking "30" because everyone makes such a fracking big deal about it. What is really different about me or my life now that I'm a nice round number? How much of a leap will I take from 29 to 30? The other day I reflected on this with my sounding board and candy "dealer", Monty (not kidding about the dealer part...it's unhealthy...someone hear my cry for help please). Before I get into this, let me just add that everyone should have someone in their life named "Monty". It is so pleasing to say. If you don't know someone who happens to have a last name that lends itself to such a moniker, just pick a person you like and start calling them "Monty". I doubt they'll persist.

Anyways, I sat with Monty and worked through this idea of being a "person in their thirties". The majority of the time that I was a "person in their twenties" I was pretty terrified of life (or, I should have been). I was just finding some professional direction, I was blindly making my way through the gruesome world of the "single and ready to mingle" crowd, I was operating under the idea that it's "better to ask for forgiveness later than to seek permission now" without actually understanding what that meant.

In my twenties, weird things happened, and then some good things, and then a lot of dramatic things, and, ultimately, towards the end, the best things in my life. My marriage to Mike and my two cherubs, Hen and Kitty. In my twenties I experienced great happiness and triumph, as well as some great confusion and loss. I am not someone who likes to think about sad things. I don't dwell on pain and I will do anything to avoid discomfort. I'm a real big baby. With that said, I realize that I've learned more from those squishy, awkward, painful moments than I ever could have guessed. They've helped to shape me, and while it still hurts to think about them, I do feel oddly grateful for what they've brought me.

In my thirties, I have no doubt that there will still be plenty of discomfort. I know that I haven't figured things out, but I do have the confidence that comes with a few years of experience and a few stories to tell. Ten years ago I had a half-completed major in English, a super-cute new boyfriend (who would very shortly turn out to be majorly craptastic), an average relationship with my family...but I had reached my goal weight!!!

Now...I have a career that excites me, I have a husband that I am still majorly crushing on, two outstandingly cute, funny little kids and a relationship with my parents and siblings that is so important to me, I would do just about anything to protect it.

As for the goal weight...I have absolutely no idea. I threw out my scale years ago.

Hey, thirty-years-old, you're not lookin' so bad after all.

Hey...guess which one is me. Pretty sure it's obvi. Refused to take the glasses off for the entirety of the party. Celeb status at 3 years old. Baller.

mb

Something in the way she moves

Posting has been on hold this week. Not that there hasn't been enough to write about (there's been plenty), it's just that a mid-summer cold has had me out for the count. Honestly, I think my body is rejecting the idea of turning 30. Fever, sore throat, stuffy nose, achy body...yep, it's got to be a rare but serious Peter Pan/anti-aging allergy.

I'll tell you who is very interested in "growing up"...our little kitten! This series of photos was taken by Mike (on his cell phone) the course of a half an hour. She makes her way across the room, giggling and drooling all the while.

Just can't hold this kid down. She's on the move.

Ponyo Noodles

The new favorite "show" in our house is not actually a show at all, but a movie that we happened upon as we searched through our Netflix recommendations. That trusty list has brought us "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" and "Bones" and "Psych" and now, "Ponyo". An oddly named movie with a curious image and an all-star cast, "Ponyo" kept floating to the top of that list which has, to this point, only produced wonderful things (see list above). I have come to trust the Netflix recommended list blindly, it hasn't failed me yet.

So we start watching Ponyo one afternoon and instantly Hen is hooked. He's gotten to the age where he can follow a plot line well enough to stick with a movie for the full eighty minutes or so. I remember a year ago being asked "What is Henry's favorite movie?? Cars? Toy Story? Monsters Inc.?"  At  the time I was so surprised by the question that I had no answer at all--he could barely sit still for 10 minutes of Fireman Sam (different post altogether--terrifying kids program), how was he going to watch, relate to, and communicate interest in a movie?

At three years old, however, Hen is a true film aficionado. Opinionated and unapologetic, he will tell you immediately if he likes or dislikes something. Ponyo certainly falls into the "like" pile. 

Ponyo is a refreshing shift from Pixar-mania--which, I love, don't get me wrong, but after a while you  end up with John Ratzenberger's voice lodged in your brain. This film is also kind of trippy. Ponyo is a fish-girl (but not a mermaid) with a human father who protects the ocean and a mother who is the goddess of the sea (or maybe is the sea herself? that part is pretty vague). She breaks free from her strict father's sunken ship/bubble/home under the sea and makes her way to the surface. Souske (pronounced "So-skay") is a curious little boy who finds Ponyo when she washes up to shore and keeps her as his pet. Within the first two minutes of the main characters meeting, Ponyo licks blood from a cut on Souske's finger and the cut heals instantly. That's when you know that the business is about to get ca-raaazy.  And it does. It gets super crazy.  I won't say anything further, but do recommend checking this movie out. We are kind of in love with it, especially in love with its weirdness, also appreciating the relevance of its message in our world today.

Now, the thing about the three-year-old movie-goer is that the movie can never just happen on the screen. You have to experience it in real life as well. Mimicking the actions of the characters, or adopting their signature phrases and repeating them ad nauseum for the next two days, even requesting to eat or drink the same things that the characters do--for a three-year-old, watching a movie requires active participation.  One of the cutest scenes in "Ponyo" is the scene that finds Ponyo and Souske eat ramen cooked by Souske's mother (note: at this point Ponyo has turned into a girl, and NO ONE seems to question it...from fish one moment to girl the next...nope, not weird, totally acceptable). Ponyo and Souske dine on noodles, ham, green onions, hard boiled eggs--this ramen is the real deal. Now, as I've probably mentioned before, one of our most favorite spots in Carlisle (or, in the whole world) is Issei Noodle. Ohhh Issei, you fill our bellies with Vermicelli Noodle Salad, Yaki Udon, Chaushu Ramen and you fill our hearts with love. Thanks to Issei, Hen has had his fair share of Miso Udon and when he asked for "Ponyo Noodles" last night, we knew he wouldn't just eat them, he would LOVE them.  Instead of hitting up our fav noodle shop for the regular, we decided to make our version of the Ponyo recipe at home.

Ramen, ham, zucchini, mushrooms, hard-boiled egg in broth

Ponyo and Souske faah-reaking out over their ramen. What? Have they never seen food before? Oh, wait, that's right, Ponyo was a fish five minutes ago...

Ramen for everyone! (except for Alice...who is in the background chewing on a bath towel)

Ponyo ramen without the mushrooms (for me)

The noodles were delicious and the experience of eating exactly what Ponyo and Souske ate made the movie even more magical for Hen.

If you're in the mood for a good, light, slightly odd children's movie, you should really watch "Ponyo", and if you want to take it to the max, dine on some Ponyo ramen and sip hot tea and be just like the characters you see in the movie. Ahh. A three-year-old's heaven.

Who Wore it Better? Wedding Edition

Seersucker suits with pink/peach hued ties and tan bucks? I'd say that when it comes to this confident summer look, it's a dead tie between Henry and his favorite "big boy" Robert. Hen said "I didn't feel like smiling, because I wasn't happy, but I was." when he saw this photo and his scowling mug.  Other thoughts he has had today:

"I didn't like you dancing at the wedding because I wanted you to be my mommy and not to dance."

and

"I will take your iPad to school with me tomorrow so that I can do my plans on it."

and

"Daddy and I are doing work. We are doing the hedges outside. You can't do it because you aren't a big boy. Girls don't do hedges, they only drink soda."  (this invited a lengthy conversation on how girls and boys are equals and if mommy wanted to trim the hedge outside, she could certainly do just that.)

Oh the things that come out of a three-year-old's mouth. Precious.

Overtiredness, I loathe thee

What a weekend. Filled with wedding wonderfulness, family pride and only a touch of drama. We are all exhausted and looking forward to hitting the hay early tonight. I'll post wedding photos as I get them, but will keep it short and say that Mary and Brian's wedding was absolutely, hands-down, one of the best weddings I have even been to, and with such a huge family, I've been to quite a few.  Mary and Brian were perfect, the ceremony was personal and touching, the reception was beyond fun. All in all, the best way to celebrate my baby sister and new brother-in-law.  Hen & Kitty did very well and, again with the super big family and wealth of friends had plenty of eyes watching them and arms to hold them. They were surrounded by love and attention, which is something that fills Mike and I with joy (and appreciation, given that we were both a part of the wedding party).

The day after "the big day" is also quite important. It is the time to power down. Post-wedding exhaustion sets in differently for everyone. Some get cranky and snappy, others become giddy and punchy, many just disconnect and retreat to the couch. In the last sixty minutes, Henry has circled through all of these versions of overtiredness at least once.

First he was pleasant and low-key, playing "cut the rope" with me as we laid on the couch. Quickly, however, he moved on to giddy and punchy, as he forced me into a game of hide-and-go-seek by aggressively throwing blankets and pillows on top of me. As I ducked and took cover, politely explaining that I couldn't play "at this moment" but would in a bit, he ventured into cranky and snappy. Cranky and snappy is absolutely the worst phase of all. Hen had a freak-out, hitting-fest melt-down, I was on the receiving end. Dramatic screams, sweaty red face, flailing arms/fists/legs/feet, I had to be on my a-game to make sure that I didn't get a blow to the stomach as I quickly wrestled him into time-out.

This is absolutely NOT the ideal when it comes to discipline. I know this. There should be conversation, there should be plenty of warning before the time out, there should be multiple attempts to de-escalate, in short, there should be calmness and thought put into discipline. In overtired mode, however, there is none of this. There is only frustration, disorientation and the near-impossible task of suppressing the scream that is building up inside of you. In that moment, the most important thing to remember is also the most difficult: You are the adult, so act like it.

Thirty minutes later, after a time-out/meltdown/time-out/meltdown/time-out/meltdown series, Henry finally calmed down and listened. He stopped hitting/kicking us and through conversation, we came to a place of understanding. That is not an easy place to occupy with a three-year-old boy. To acknowledge that peaceful, rare moment, I allowed Hen to do something that he has been asking to do for quite some time, something that I have never had the patience or confidence in him to allow.

He did my eye makeup.

Giddy/punchy

2 seconds later: disconnect & retreat

He obviously really took advantage of this moment and didn't limit himself to my eyes, but included my forehead, cheeks and chin. I've always felt that eye makeup is underutilized--too fun to be limited to ONE part of your face--and I have such a great appreciation for that fashion-forward avant-garde look, so of course I loved the end result.

Luckily, there are not too many of those exaggerated, emotional discipline "battles", but when they do occur, Mike and I do manage to remember one parenting "must do". We always take time, after the lesson has been learned, to connect in a positive, nurturing way with our independent little boy.  To reassure him of the fact that while we may feel unhappy with some of the choices he makes, we could not possibly love anything more than we love him, his sister, each other--our little family.

Liam and Alice love each other.

My first update from the iPad! At GiGi and Grandpa Mac's house with almost the entire fam. Only Blake is missing but he'll join us shortly for the wedding of the century!!! The bride and groom (seen here holding Alice) seem to be doing quite well with nerves under control. Can not wait to see them take their vows in two short days.

Our Kind of Normal

Conversation over the phone on the way home for lunch:

Molly: I'm sorry I missed your calls earlier, I was busy all morning.
Mike: Well, I'm sorry I missed your calls earlier, we're just coming home from Newville now. ((note: I didn't call him once this morning))
Molly: Where are you right now?
Mike: I'll give you a hint, it's the place where you like to enjoy your white zinfandel.
Molly: **long pause** I don't know where that is.
Mike: The underpass before rt. 641.

Doesn't miss a beat, that husband. Wickedly funny all the time. Love him.

Lavar Burton would be proud...

This past weekend I enjoyed a lovely night at Piatto, drinking fancy Prosecco drinks with my super-hip book club, CARDS (Carlisle Area Reading and Drinking Society).  All of those are things that I love--Carlisle, Reading, Drinking, Societies...Areas...winning. Seriously though, what a perfect way to spend a warm summer evening AND to feel pretty smarty pants (yeah, that's right waiter, I read books...big books...books with words).

This past month, we read "Room" (whoa, wack-titude), coming up, "Jitterbug Perfume". I've read Tom Robbins before and am excited to dive on in. I do wonder if this book will have fewer scrota and graphic sex scenes than the Robbins books I've read before...will keep you updated.

What I didn't realize was that Hen is also a CARDS member. Hmm. Funny he hasn't made any of our meetings. He's getting started on the July book (now I'm really hoping that this is a tame Robbins) and has found his own little "reading spot"

Dang, that kid is good! Wait, is he past the first chapter already?? What the French, Canada?! Way to show me up in the area of "reading". Sorry that I'm busy working, and watching "The Voice". Guess you'll have to give me the skinny on "Jitterbug" an hour before the CARDS meeting. That's what kids are for, right?

Fratting it at the yard sale

This weekend we invited community members to come on by and buy our tacky crap. The front  yard featured $1 and $2 tables filled with all sorts of amazing random stuff, including glittery false eyelashes, some fancy candle holders, picture frames, kitchen stuff, books and two super old school tapestries (one from Mike, one from me, both from college days--classy to the n'th degree). Normal yard sale junque. We saw some business, but, for the most part, the sale was pretty tame. I attribute this, in part, to the fact that I forgot to wear my lucky fanny pack. Dang!! Forgetful! Had folks seen my impressive sales-lady style they might have thought twice about passing on our rad gear.  Fail, Molly.


We did enjoy the company of two of the more ridiculous Dickinson students that I work with (Teddy and Dixon), and one very lovely and fun Dickinson alum (Georgia). As soon as Teddy arrived, before doing anything else, he invited Hen to a game of hide-and-seek. As you can imagine, our three-year-old was positively elated.  Laughing, smiling, occasionally missing the point of the game ("You go count and I will hide here!"), Hen couldn't have asked for a better time.  After a little while, he had exhausted many of the traditional hiding places, but certainly would not allow this to get in the way of his game. Hen thought on his feet and moved on to more creative hiding "situations". Below is the BEST by a long shot. 

Lamp shade hiding place. All he needs is one of those tapestries tied around his neck like a cape and he's living frat-large. So college. Proud moments for parents.  And speaking of parents, I have to go be one right now, so I'll post the highly anticipated series, "Kitty in Funny Hats", at a later time.

Jelly-Man Kitty

Breakfast at the Hamilton this past Saturday and Kitty sat in a high chair this time. She just wants to be part of the action nowadays. Of course, along with this promotion to "table sitter" comes a whole new world of "grab and chew" opportunities. Nothing (within arms reach) of Kitten is safe. We remember this stage well our first go-round with Hen, and had prolonged the inevitable status change to "occupant of the high-chair" for as long as we could.

Here, exploring her new freedoms as a member of the table, Alice reaches for the one thing that we haven't shoved as far from her as possible. The jelly packets. She stretched those chubby little Michelin man arms out for a good five minutes before she started to get really frustrated. We replaced the coveted jellsters with a Baby Mum-Mum after a while, and she accepted the substitution.

I look at these photos, and I think "Man, I can't to embarrass my kid with this someday". I wonder now if my parents had the very same feelings...which would explain a lot, actually.  Hmm.

June 11-June 16: In pictures

 

What better way to start a post than with a yummy, summer mojito!  The only thing "wrong" about this amazingly refreshing summer cocktail is the way that I pronounce it (because sometimes it's just more fun to mispronounce things intentionally...mah-jaih-toe).

Last summer I was all knocked-up and such and due to my "condition", our wonderful, fancy friend, Dave Bender, mixed me my very own "faux-jito".  Tonic, simple syrup, squeeze of lime and sprig of mint and I was like a proud little girl at the grownup table.

 

The post-mojito morning brought a beverage of a different kind. Above you'll find a sweet photo of Albie and I having our morning cup of coffee. While dining out, Al is one of those obnoxious types that tells the waitress, "high test, please!" instead of "regular" and puts her hand OVER the top of her mug when the poor girl tries to "top off" her cuppa joe.  Seriously lady?!  That hot coffee could have burned your hand!  Couldn't you just say "No thank you"?  Noo, you had to be super weird about it.  I don't understand people sometimes. Neither does Alice.

*We gave Alice her own "teensy" mug when she kept trying to wrestle my actual cup of coffee out of my hands. Greedy gussy.

 

Ohh, we haven't seen the last of "Pooey the Builder", here, overseeing her crew (Mike and Hen) as they redo the driveway. "Lay the bricks EXACTLY half an inch apart, guys! I'm not kidding. I'll come over there with my ruler and check your work if I have to."

Ohhh, last but not least...tonight's dessert!  Raspberries from Grandpa Mac & GiGi's garden (picking them is so zen for me) with chocolate & vanilla ice creams. This is a fun little series...

My bowl of ice cream (L) and Hen's bowl of ice cream (R) about two minutes after I'd dished them out.  Notice which dish has already been nearly finished.

Hen arguing that we should "switch ice creams", and forcefully pointing to the dish that I should claim as mine. "You take THIS one, mommy. It is prettier for YOU". I declined and he switched tactics "We should share. That is the nice thing. Will you share with me, please??"

Closeup of my raspberry/chocolate/vanilla delight. Pre-sharing. I did give him a few friendly bites, but saved the raspberries covered in melted chocolate ice cream for mah-self. Yummm.  Nothing gets between this lady and her dessert.

Play a Happy Little Tune

**ERMama & Tammy--not sure if you'll see my response to your comments on the last post, so I'll just bring attention to them here. :)  Thanks for those!!  Comments do make my day.

OK, short post.  Today was my first day back to work after glorious staycation and I decided that I definitely needed a way to "announce" my return...not just once, but every time I entered a room.  Solution: harmonica necklace!!!

A photo of harmonica necklace really wouldn't do it justice, a video seems much more appropriate.

Sarah McAbee, I know you remember buying me this little beaut, and I think you'll be pleased (but not surprised) to learn that this is Hen's most favorite thing in my jewelry box, second only to my engagement and wedding rings, which he is constantly trying to swipe ("You have TWO, you should SHAAAARE").  Tiny harmonica (which has another secret codename) will be with us forever.

Molly vs. Butterick Pattern B5629

Steps to sewing success:

Take a staycation. Go into start of staycation expecting to focus on LARGE list of honey-do projects that have been amounting while incorporating lots of play time, reading time, relaxing time with two adorable children.  Two days into staycation, decide that honey-do list is boring, and that completing to 65% is just as good as completing the whole way.  Shrug off the remaining 35% in favor of a "project". Surf internet for awhile, spend midnight hours on mommy-blogs, wonder why other moms are so awesome. Feel both strong dislike, and great admiration, for these D.I.Y. moms (seriously, they basically have their own sorority...sisters of DIY, we don't think we're better than you...we know we are). Only half-decide on a project, figuring that you can "flesh out the details" at the store.

Arrive at local Jo-Ann Fabrics.  Wander through aisles filled with colorful bolts of fabric. Having been seduced by said fabric (on sale! of course) and with delusions of crafting grandeur, venture into the abyss of the "sewing patterns" section. Go against better judgement to elect an easy project that could be completed over the course of an afternoon (new throw pillows, kitchen curtains...), instead, decide to sew a dress for your daughter.  (The plans said "Very Easy"...so it really can't be that difficult).

Emerge from fabric & pattern section half an hour later, with ridiculously well-behaved children in tow ("Oh, yes, thank you, they're always like this"). Pay for two yards of fabric, two Butterick sewing patterns, fusible interfacing and $15 worth of bonding/elastic/hook-eye closure/bias tape "stuff" that you know nothing about, but that you seem to remember as "important"...maybe...maybe not...who cares, just buy it.

Reward angel-boy with a trip across the mall to the sporting-goods store (or, "The Golf Shop" as it is referred to in our home).  Let him putt on the mini-green for 10 minutes, or until angel-baby wakes up and decides to pitch a fit.  Escort rumply, fussy, once perfectly-behaved children out of store.

Make it to car in just-in-time moment, only to realize that keys are lost.

Back into mall.  Tempting fate.  Search frantically through fabric store with crying baby and close-to-fit preschooler.  Allure of fabric store is lost after purchase has been made, and these other shoppers really seem to know what they're doing.  Feeling regret for such an ambitious project, but no time to revisit.  Keys are missing.  Run across to sporting goods store, smartly avoiding golfing section ("But I neeeed a 5 hyyyyybrid, mommeeeee"), realize five minutes into this crazy-lady search that keys were in front of stroller all along. Sigh of relief. Slap forehead with hand.

Lunch at Issei with Lizzie (best part of the trip!) and then home to piece through the goodies in the Jo-Ann bag.

After wrestling preschooler down for nap-time (unheard of), revisit contents of the shopping excursion with excitement and some uncertainty.  Sense of false confidence--check!  Am convinced that if Butterick says "Very Easy", it should be a walk in the park.  Get started making that "very easy" reversible dress with empire waist, button closure and gathered skirt for Kitty!!

About 2 minutes into instructions, realize that people who sew have their own super-special secret language.  Understitching? Grainline? Easestitch? Out-facing? Ok, that last one is sort of self-explanatory, but in the context of the overall plans it is just as confusing as the rest.  W.T.Elf Butterick Pattern B5629? Very Easy? Very easy for who, exactly? Martha Stewart?!

I managed to cut out pieces for the "bodice" (who uses that word?!) and have decided to just wing it for the rest.  Above is a photo of a cleaned-up version of what my dining room table looked like an hour into the project.

I'm going to preserve my crafting self-esteem and finish two projects that were already on my to-do list.  Sewing a ring-bearer pillow for the upcoming nuptials (SOOO SOOOON!!!  We are giddy with excitement--can you tell?) and a wedding bow-tie for my dapper nephew, Liam.  I'll post photos of those projects once completed and my confidence (or, over-confidence) in my sewing abilities will be restored.  Someday I'll finish that dress, I just hope Alice is still wearing size 12 months when it's complete.

Now, to enjoy the last day of staycation with a trip to visit my sister and Liam in Chambersburg.  A much nicer way to spend the day.

Pro-nunn-ciate.

We're learning new things every day in this house.  Kitty is rolling over, nearly sitting on her own, and doing other things that sound a lot like dog commands.  She was an absolute treasure during her 6-month checkup yesterday, cooing and laughing as Dr. Holly took measurements and checked all of the usuals (eyes, ears, nose, belly, etc.)  She weighed it at a solid 21 lb. 11 oz. and is literally off the charts in both weight and height.  Big ol' baby.

Hen's daily discoveries are (obviously) of a more sophisticated nature.  Each week his vocabulary expands, and while he does understand the meaning of the word or phrase, he doesn't always nail the pronunciation.  We have to help out a bit, but this is the thing--I don't want to help him. I think the mispronounced words are the sweetest.  (Oh, pardon me cowboy, is my bad parenting peeking through?  Let me just cover that up quickly...this is a family-friendly blog).

For posterity's sake, I'd like to capture a few of those mispronunciations.  They're like prehistoric beasts--with us one era, and extinct the next. 

Plip-plop: Flip-flop
Walt: Wallet
"I'm gonna beep you!": "I'm gonna beat you!"
The light Bathroom: The Bathroom light (as in, "Please leave on the light bathroom for bedtime")
My rubs: My ribs

There used to be so many more of these, but, alas, my little boy gets bigger and his use of the English language reflects that.  He's currently yelling, "Ladies and Gentlement, lintroducing...!"  Not sure where this is going, but I like how showy it is.  Maybe I should oblige with a tap dancing number?  Morning at the Boegels.

Eagle. Birdie. Hen.

I've heard the calls and am responding with a post...yes, a post...finally.

There is so much that I have to write about--it builds up and I end up with a logjam of ideas.  A "blogjam" if you will. Heh. Heh heh. Amused with myself.

First (and for this post) there is the matter of the increasing interest in the game of golf. Henry plays every day, almost all day.  He has indoor clubs (the plastic kind--a gift from Uncle J and Aunt Meggie on his 2nd birthday) and real outdoor clubs (including a putter that Mike claims is nicer than his...sneaky husband trying to get new clubs...don't think I don't know what you're doing).  He has outdoor balls (the real kind), indoor balls (the plastic practice kind), outdoor tees (again, the real deal) and indoor tees (whatever random small toy he finds that will act as a stand-in tee).

The daily golf game is a given in our house now.  It's just a part of our day to day.  Recently, however, this love of the game of golf even found its way into night-time routine.  Every night he'll ask to take a "pet" to bed.  This is a privilege afforded to those who remembered to bring their listening ears to daycare.  For the past two nights, Henry has asked to bring a pet to bed, and of the many different stuffed animals and dolls that he could choose from, he picks his outside driver and then his seven iron.  He says, "They're not soft pets, Mommy, they are hard pets, but I love them and I want to hold on to them when I am asleep."
 

Choosing to tee off from the "sand" (aka baseball diamond at the local park).  Also--as per usual, dressed himself.

It comes as no surprise then that Hen claims "I will be a golfer-man when I am bigger".  He asks to watch golf on the television, he asks for more clubs, he requests golf-related reading material--in fact, the other night he asked if I'd read him the latest issue of Golf Magazine as his bedtime story (that got interesting).

He's golf-obsessed.  We're supporting it, trying not to over-do it, allowing him to discover it on his own with some gentle guidance from his dad.  He seems to feel fairly confident already in his own coaching/mentoring skills and has said, "Mommy, when your birthday is up, you will get your girl clubs and then I will show you how to putt it in the hole. Is your birthday up yet? Is it tomorrow? When will we play together?" I am positively tickled by this, and also curious if Hen is at the age when I could get valuable information out of him--like what I'm getting for my birthday. 

At the same time, Mike and I know well enough not to move too fast too soon, because if we've learned anything about preschoolers, it's that they'll move on to a new "favorite" thing, a new curiosity, a new problem to tackle as quickly as we change the water filter--and that is perfectly fine and normal.  For now though, we're enjoying this. Hen is such a neat little kid with interests that he develops largely on his own. We are content to sit back, count strokes with him, cheer him on and to wonder what he'll discover next.

May 28: Pooey the Builder

So many new jobs have come in this week--thanks a lot 'nado--and Pooey the Builder is busy at work.  Here we see her toiling away in her office.  She is seriously going to have to can that useless Wendy. Honestly Wendy, c'mon, it's "Pooey the Builder", not "Pooey the Office Manager".  And don't think that we don't know about all of these personal calls you've been making on the company phone.  Wendy, this is a place of business, not a sorority house. 

Off to get ready for the night out--bachelorette party!!!  Updates from tonight (possibly...) in a future post.

May 25-26: First Massey's of the summer & Stormpocalypse

This has been the most bizarre month weather-wise.  Rainy and low 50's to sunny and mid 80's, torrential downpour followed by perfect blue-skied day and, now, tornadoes.  Feeling awfully "rapture-y" to me.

Wednesday was great--sunny, a little hot during the day, cooling off in the evening.  Blue, bright, wonderful.  Mike had the great fortune of online class, which meant his daily driving time was reduced from 2.5 hours to a piddly 1.5 hours.  ;)  A few minutes before class "began", he casually mentioned that if I was interested in driving over to Massey's, he could be interested in that.  Ohh...OK Mike, gotcha... you could be interested, *wink wink*.

I am never one to turn down the opportunity to get ice cream (see previous post involving chocolate ice cream face).  Hen and I hopped into the car and drove the short distance to our favorite local ice cream place.  Arctic Mount w/pb cups, hot fudge & peanut butter sauce for mom, same w/Reese's Pieces for dad, kid's cone with sprinkles for Hen.

Now I'm not sure if you can see this in the photo, but I was really interested in the Massey's sprinkle color-scheme: chartreuse, robin's egg blue, lavender, fuschia, beige and white.  Beige sprinkles???  Who has beige sprinkles?  What is this, some hip pop-up ice cream joint?  Hen took far less interest in the color of the sprinkles and quickly got to work devouring his cone.  He held onto it so tightly that his shirt got scrunched up under his arms and his belly button got a little air time.

We drove home and continued to eat our treats on the porch in the newly painted Adirondack chairs (yay! Mother's Day!)  Hen finished his kid's cone, wiped his face with the back of his arm, stood up, and removed his shorts.  He invited me to do the same, but I politely declined.  I hadn't finished my ice cream yet, it would be in poor taste to remove my shorts before finishing my dish.  After a little underwear dance party on the porch, he finally agreed to bath and bedtime.

Too young for ice cream, but NEVER too young for dress-up.  She started talking about flux capacitors and all that junk.  Nerdy baby.

Chatting on the front porch--taking a break from the cone.

Underwaaaaaare!!!!!!  "Mama, take of your shorts!!"

The following evening was less picturesque.  Tornado warning and very menacing, dark skies had us in the basement, wearing headlamps and eating cake.  Kitty seemed a little uncomfortable with the situation, but Hen embraced the dark & stormy and was fully on board for a basement adventure.  He didn't want to come back upstairs, but I am fairly certain that this had less to do with his newfound love of the spare-sock filled, musty, dark underworld of the basement and far more to do with his disinterest in bath/bed. 

Once he hit the pillow, however, totally different story.  Out like a light.  Alice was the same.  I was also completely exhausted and fell asleep, until awoken by our VERY loud neighbors.  What is it about a terrifying weather-related experience??  People were overly friendly and far too interested in socializing.  Go back to your quiet existence inside of your own homes, peeps.  I am trying to sleep!  I feel it important to mention that one of these "post-tornado block party" folks was my husband.  He's much friendlier to the people who occupy the other homes on our street.((See "list for summer" post and the bit addressing my poor neighbor-friend-making skills.  I really am a jerk)).

Those happy-go-luckies (including the two older ladies that live next door to us and WAITED OUT THE STORM ON THEIR PORCH--baller) were shivering in their boots at around midnight/1am when things got super apocalypse-y.  I have never heard lightning that loud.  It was really awful.  I wish that the kids had been able to sleep through, alas, they woke up and were stressed and afraid.  Worst feeling.  I wish I could have made that all better. 

This morning--no work due to power outage (as you can tell from this post, the power has been restored), messy streets, sirens all over the place (that's actually normal for Carlisle though) and...clear and sunny skies.  Raaaaptuuuuure...!!!!

May 24: Kitty is Hen's #1 Fan

It's been a while since we had a kitty-clip.  Not that there is much variation between them--Alice bobbles, growls, drools, does something cute, I praise her, end of video. As similar as they may be, I do know that I'll be grateful that I took these videos two years from now when she is a living terror and I need to be reminded of a time when I called her "best-baby".

Speaking of living terrors (joking)...Hen is now demanding that we follow him into the backyard, where he will demonstrate how he hits the golf ball with his seven iron and then with his putter.  "You hit it hard when you are far away, and then you hit it softly with your putter when you are close to the hole".  Thanks for the lesson,  Hen.  Pickle Mickson (or, Phil Mickleson, as he is known to anyone outside of this home) would be proud.

Favorite moment in this video--when Hen (off camera) steps into the room and Alice immediately looks towards him and smiles.  This kid really loves her big brother.

101 and aren't we having fun

I just realized that this is my 101st post!  I feel so impressed and proud, which, honestly, isn't that different from my day to day life.  I have a pretty high opinion of myself.  Not gonna lie.  It's obnoxious.

Since my last post, things have been busy but at a tolerable pace.  Last week my colleague and I shared a "Inside the Admissions Process" presentation/discussion with parents/students in the Gifted & Talented program at the local high school.  The following day was the graduation for the students in the Youth Leadership program that I "support" (weird word choice...I'm the chair of the committee for the program, so I'm not sure what the appropriate active verb would be).  Lots of changes will likely be made to that program in the coming year--expanding to include 7th and 8th graders (currently just offered to 9th graders), will focus more on mentoring & academic success, less on themed sessions/field trips.  Hopefully changes that will enhance the program and allow it to reach more students and have a greater impact over time.

The rest of the week was blurry--Senior Week for our Class of 2011.  Lots of special events and parties, lots of bittersweet exchanges, lots of glasses of champagne.  Holy Hannah, senior week was very "college senior-y".  I even saw closing time at the local bar.  MAN that brings me back.  The last time I saw closing time: Barack was a senator, Britney Spears was bald and stink bugs hadn't yet invaded my world.  Needless to say, this was a special event and definitely one that will not be revisited anytime soon.  I learned my lesson at 7:00am the following morning (or the same morning? I'm still confused...) when Mike woke me up as he left to go play golf.  7:15am tee time?  Douchey move, Mike Boegel.

Lucky for me, sisters were in town and we had a little McDougall rendezvous (minus Mary) at the empty nest.  Speaking of that nest--now that we're all good and gone my parents are redecorating EVERY room in the house.  I'm not even kidding.  Every room.  It has always been a really beautiful home, but now, it's Better Homes & Gardens photo-ready.  Dang! Mom and Dad!  What are you trying to say here?  You had to wait until we were all gone to have super nice stuff?   Are we not capable of living amongst lovely things without ruining them with nail polish, ink or food stains?  What are we, animals?? Thanks.A.Lot.Parents.  (Real life sidebar: Nearly everyday, as we watch our children and pets wreak havoc on our home, Mike says to me "Someday, when everyone is gone, and it is just us, we will finally have nice things."  Ok Suz & Mac.  I suppose I sort of understand.)

McDougall rendezvous was followed by Mrs. Stamm's -- fried chicken, stuffing balls, mashed potatoes and gravy -- **buzz buzz** Alex, what is...hangover food?  Glorious stuffing balls.  If you live in my town and you DO NOT know about Mrs. Stamm's you are missing out my friend.  Best.Food.Evs.

Rest of the weekend was low key.  I brought best-baby to graduation and she wowed people with her pleasant disposition and Mona Lisa smile.  Coy little kitty love.  Hen opted out, he had golf balls to hit...aggressively.  I'm starting to wonder if we might trade in that seven iron for a hockey stick.  Kid can swing.  Hard. 

Quick recap and now I'm ready for bed.  PM is about to turn over to AM and that is something that I do not need to see on this already long night.  So long, farewell.

May 16: Everything is coming up chocolate

 

Oh my.  That is happiness.  Chocolate ice cream after 6:00pm, what is this kid's mom thinking?

Nothing much to say about this, except that I love finding reasons to buy and eat ice cream with Henry.  He was SO excited this afternoon when I said that we'd go out for a special mommy-treat after my Hope Station board meeting.  I was initially expecting to go to my meeting solo (that would make the most sense) but plans changed a bit this morning when Mike called to say that his May term grad class started today at 5:30pm.  Not in the original plan, but hey, we'll go with it.  

So this evening, after a quick dinner of chicken, pasta and peas, we got going.  Looked a little something like this (all in quick succession...one after the other): Pack kids up.  Drive to community center.  Try to block playground area from sight.  Meander down halls past kiddy yoga class and secretly wish that was the room you were heading to.  Arrive at meeting.  Feel bad about kiddy yoga thing (glad to be  here). Ask to give first committee report.  Try to speak in professional manner over very loud growling baby.  Address board questions while catching flying crayons being catapulted from seat next to you.  Finish report and politely excuse yourself. Pack kids up.  Avoid playground again.  Load into van and it's ice creeeeam tiiiime!  

We chose Friendly's for the booth seating (a specific request from Hen) and went to town on some chocolate and hunka chunka pb fudge.  Mmm.  Rewarding positive behavior with unhealthy food choices.  I don't know that I'd call my parenting style "smart" or "restrained", but I sure wouldn't hesitate to call it delicious!

May 15: 13 Miles, 3 Sisters

This morning, at 6:00am, when I was wrestling with the decision to either get out of bed and feed my hungry kids, or lay there for ten more minutes pretending to sleep so that Mike would do it (I chose the latter), my three little sisters were walking a half-marathon in Pittsburgh.

While I don't yet wish that I had walked the half-thon with them (ugh. pushing myself physically?  No thank you), I do wish I had been there to cheer them on.  I also wish that I had known about the "New England proud" dress code--I would have lent Brigid my Red Sox hat.  ((Make mental note to buy her one if she doesn't have one already))

Looking at this photo makes me feel so proud to be the big sister to three beautiful, talented, hard-working women.  I know how much preparation went into this 13 miles and I applaud them for doing it.  While I didn't participate in the event itself, I did have the great pleasure (sarcasm) to join them on one of their training walks.  At the start of all of this, Megan and Mary were the only two on board.  During a family get together at my parents house, Brigid mentioned that she was going to join them the following day for their morning walk, and then eventually decided that she'd participate in the lucky 13.  On that night in mid-April, I joked that I might also show up for the morning walk.  They encouraged me to join them, but ultimately, laughed it off, knowing that walking for any great distance was the LAST thing I was interested in (unless the walk ended with donuts or beer...or both).

The next morning, to their great surprise, I showed up, ready for the pain and possible humiliation of walking 6 miles with these three physically fit young ladies.  They were pretty shocked, and made a few VERY funny jokes about me going out the night before and buying sneakers and workout clothes.  "You own those??"  Megan said, eyeballing my Helly Hansen kicks.  "Mike made you buy them, didn't he. Have they ever been worn??" Snarky-second-sister-makes-me-belly-laugh moment.

We got going and I felt good.  Kept pace (which was closer to a run, than a walk...sickos), chatted happily with the girls, cracked a few jokes about crashing and burning on the walk...asked if we could stop for candy along the way...all of the normal stuff.  "You'll be fine with this, Mol.  You're probably in better shape than you think."  Mary said.  Little-sister-gives-big-sister-more-credit-than-deserved moment.

I got to about mile 3 and I was starting to become VERY interested in returning home.  They continued to push me, only checking in occasionally, trying not to overdo it with the "Hangin' in there Mol?"   All the time, I'm sure they were secretly whispering to one another "Do you think she's going to make it?"  "I don't know, we might have to call an ambulance...this could be embarrassing."  and "I've never seen someone's face turn that color before...she might be dying."

Miles 4 and 5 were pretty brutal.  Thank goodness for Brigie, who walked with me, letting the competitors keep their race pace.  She was supportive, encouraging, told me I was really doing well, especially given the fact that I hadn't worked out in, oh, 4 years or so. At the appropriate moments, Brig would shout at me ala Jillian Michaels of the Biggest Loser.  "Just think of Jillian, Molly!  Jillian would be screaming at you do finish this thing!  The Biggest Loser contestants can do this stuff and they are horribly overweight!  You can do this."  Sweet-sister-does-what-it-takes-to-support moment.

I don't remember mile 6.  I don't want to remember mile 6.  That is a period of my life that will forever be a mystery.  

Finally, the walk ended...and I didn't crash and burn.  I don't know if it was the reference to The Biggest Loser (I cry during EVERY elimination, I swear to you), or if it was sharing a moment with the girls that I love so much, or if it was the delirium that set in after mile 4 (I'm pretty sure I was speaking strictly in Pig Latin at that point)...whatever it was, I made it through and I actually think I enjoyed it. 

I returned triumphantly to my parents house.  My sisters dropped me off after mile 6, then got back out there to complete 2 additional miles...freaks.  I sat down, took a few breaths, got up, walked into the kitchen, drank a glass of water, and then cut a sizable piece of chocolate peanut-butter cake and ate it, sans utensils or plate, hands only.  I guess there are some things that will never change.

End on this-- big-sister-swells-with-pride-over-little-sisters'-accomplishments...not just for a moment, or for a half-marathon, but for a whole life.

May 8-14: Walk of Shame

Seven days.  Yes, it's been seven days.  I'll spare you the excuses and just say that I've been very busy NOT being busy.  It's been pretty spectacular and the break from busy was much needed.

I knew it'd been a little while since I'd written a post, but was kindly reminded earlier this week via a post on my facebook wall:

"as we approach the one week anniversary of the last time you updated your blog, I'd like to pause and reflect on all of the poor college students who should've spent countless minutes procrastinating and reading your blog instead. you single handedly might have increased the overall GPA of the Dickinson Community but no doubt left us without the h-core wit of yo blog. get on it molly bo bo!"

This is Teddy's idea of a gentle reminder.  I was honestly shocked that he didn't  come to my office to feed me a dose of guilt trip every day that I failed to update--and he is one of the last people who actually needs updates on my life.  I see him five days of the week!  Sooo---Teddy, here you go, you're welcome.  To anyone else who happened upon this site in the last week and wondered why they heard crickets, my apologies.

In short, this was a great week, including a very special day in our house--Mike's 34th Birthdaaaay!!  Love celebrating that guy.  Here are a few photos from the week:

Mother's Day present from Henbot 3000.  Mother's Day was such a lovely day with  my guys and my gal.  Note in this photo--Henry is wearing his old winter hat.  No weather-related need to wear it, he just likes this hat a lot.  Reminds me of that washing machine commercial with the boy who has the favorite blue & white hat that he wears everywhere.  Except that his mom washes his hat after a day of wear and tear.  This mom just sprays stuff with Febreeze.

Mike's #1 birthday wish--Dinner out at Issei Noodle.  BEST.FOOD.EVER.  We are die hard Issei fans and with two kids, don't often get out to eat.  Hen is chowing down (with one chopstick) on his order of Miso Udon.  He loves the fish cakes and gets a real kick out of the fact that there are hard-boiled eggs in his soup.  After an Issei-amazing dinner (always puts us in the best mood), we went home to sing the bday song and eat Mike's dessert request--Oreo Truffles.

Henry at 6:15am.  He's been getting up at around 5:45am lately and I just can't understand WHY I have to be awake when the first number on the clock is anything below a 6.  Honestly Hen.  Of course, I get up, but will try my damndest to get Henry to focus on something other than sitting on the bed saying "Mommy!!!  It's WAAAKE UP TIME!!!!!  I WANT CEEEREAAAAL!!!"  Usually I end up moving into his room and lying, awake but resting, while he plays with his toys.  On this particular morning he built a few tracks on his train table. 

Thursday morning activities--accomplishing so much before 6am.

Oh my wordness.  Alice's legs could not be any chunkier.  They are so cute, SHE is so cute.  Dressing her in warmer weather has been beyond fun for me.  You'll see her in a little plaid skirt above (with bloomers)...

...and then, in no bottoms at all.  It took me a few minutes to squeeze her into that skirt (it's sized 9 months, so it should fit her).  After realizing that trying to contain the chubbiness was not only silly, but near impossible, I released her from the confines of clothing.

There you have it.  A quick week-in-the-life.  There are a lot of other things going on (some work changes, last week of daycare for my cherubs who will be off for the summer with dad, family activities, volunteer-work-related commitments), but the few things mentioned above are those that are most dear to me.  I'll get back into the groove and will put something up tomorrow.  We're hamster-sitting for my sister and I have a whole photo-shoot planned for Porgy the Teddy Bear Hamster.  Look forward to it. 


P.S. Again, a little tale about the post title.  I recently explained to my mom what the phrase "walk of shame" meant.  She was aware of it, and got the concept in general.  Some of the folks in her office were using it in reference to the walk from the candy jar back to their desks...appropriate usage, and pretty cute, if you ask me.  While visiting her at work, I overheard someone mention that they were doing the candy walk of shame. Of course, being the good daughter that I am, I DID take the opportunity to share with my mom what the "college" walk of shame meant.  She screamed, covered her mouth and laughed, and then just said "Oh!  Molly!!"  :)  Love that mom of mine.