Dough Boys

Rey spent the day with the boys today. They started with haircuts. (See pictures below for results of that. Mason looks great, Cole looks like they used a weed whacker on him. Can no one cut blonde little boy hair well??? If anyone knows someone in Naples who can, you know where to find me!)


Next they went shopping for supplies to make pizzas. Rey thought it would be fun and they would enjoy it. Rey was right!




Step One:

Begin with impeccably clean hands. Wait in eager anticipation for daddy to haul out ingredients.





Step Two:

Watch while Daddy brings out baking sheets.





Step Three:

Make loud clanking noises by banging baking sheet upon granite countertops.



Step Four:

Stare at crusts.

Step Five:

Let's get saucy! We have spoons and we're not afraid to use them!

Step Six:

Cheese!

Step Seven:

Pepperoni. Mason chose to put his in a circle, since "pizza is a circle and pepperoni is circle shaped too". Cole chose and "all over" method.

Step Eight:

Contemplate whether you can steal a bite of unbaked pizza. Attempt it and get caught.

Step Nine:

Pose for mug shot after being busted taking a lick of raw pizza.

Step Ten:

Watch Daddy toss some jalepenos on his pizza. Don't touch 'em or your fingers will never stop burning.

Step Eleven:

Admire handiwork, watch Daddy put pizzas in the oven.

Cole's creation:

Mason's creation:

Step Twelve:

Become excited upon spotting pizzas in oven. Draw a crowd.

Step Thirteen:

Admire finished product!

Steo Fourteen:

Eat and enjoy!

Notice the dog scouring the floor for dropped crumbs. He's very good about cleaning the floor!

Princess Lilacita

Since she’s delectably adorable and doesn’t get very much face time on the ol’ blog, I’ve decided to dedicate this post entirely to Lila, who coincidentally turned 8 months old on Tuesday!

Don't ask me why, but somehow she's adopted the nickname "Princess Lilacita." The boys came up with it--they made a combo of her nicknames "Princess" (which is what I call her), "Cita" which is what Daddy calls her, and of course her actual name!

By my best estimation, she’s probably weighing in at about 14.5 lbs. these days. She’s most content to be on the floor, preferably with someone close by (Mason and Cole are frequently given the task of keeping Lila company). So far she’s not much of a girly girl as her toy of choice is always a train or Matchbox car.

She gets around pretty adeptly these days doing her own version of crawling. She’s begun to travel room to room in search of whomever she’s looking for, mainly Daddy (apparently he’s her favorite, never mind that I am her main food source, makes me feel really good!).

Below is a photo essay of what I like to call “The Lila Shuffle” as she targeted the ever intriguing chair leg:

She’s a woman on a mission when she sets her sights on something!


She was a little, shall I say, plugged up, so I was giving her some juice to move things along. I decided to try to teach her to hold a bottle.

She’ll do it, but know that she is not the least bit happy about. I don’t know if it’s P.C. to call your baby lazy, but when it comes to bottle holding she is! If it droops a little and I touch the bottle to help adjust it, she immediately drops it. Smart girl—why do all the work if someone will do it for you?

But, when you're cute, you're cute!!

And a nice shot of Li and Big Bro Cole. He's always up to get to hold her, and he's insistent upon having his picture taken while he's doing it! (Yes, he's still wearing his name tag from the gym childcare. He likes to wear is for the entire rest of the day.)

All Jacked Up

It was time for this bleeding heart liberal to pull out her favorite phrase—I’m all jacked up!!

Where we you when President Obama was inaugurated?

I was in my living room, living it up with the boys!!

I decided the kids would watch the inauguration. I know, they’re 4 and 2 and 8 months, but I felt this was something they should be present for. History in the making, if you will. (Sadly, Lila missed out because she was napping!) Mason kept confusing “president” with “presents” (Sebastian, you’re not the only one!) and he thought something super great was coming in a wrapped package. The jury’s still out of whether he’s disappointed or not.

When it came time to pick out clothes for the kids today, I decided to dress them in some patriotic wear. Mason wore his shirt that says “Life Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.”

Cole wore his “Freedom Race” shirt.

A few comments on the event:

How cute was it that Malia was taking pictures of her father speaking!?

I wonder how George W. is feeling. It must be quite a shocking transition to go from being leader of the free world to just one of us.

What was up with the hat the George H.W. Bush was wearing? Was he unaware that half the world would see him wearing that ridiculous thing?

(Did I mention how much I love Yo-Yo Ma? To be able to create beauty like that is such a wonder.)

I watched the flags fly over the mall and the majesty of it all struck me. To see thousands of people on the mall was stunning. And to see Obama get sworn in was something I’ll never forget!

The kids watched it, of course not realizing what the big to do was. I was jumping up and down (just a little) and said, “Do you realize what this means??”

Mason nodded his head in agreement and said, “Can we grab a snack now?”

Maybe he’s a Republican. : )

GUILTY

This is the face of a sad little boy.

Mason got in trouble today at the gym for being naughty, which resulted in the revocation of his TV watching for the day, which resulted in this face.

He and his 6-year-old cousin Carson were rambunctious, rowdy, unruly kids today at the gym. It was a recipe for disaster really. There's no school today and there were no joke at least 20 kids in there under the care of two women (who really do a great job, I might add). It was like monkeys hanging from the ceiling--kids if all ages were everywhere. Mason and Carson are generally troublemakers when they're together, especially when I'm not around to lay down the iron fist of justice. Not to make excuses for Mason though, because he's old enough to choose good behavior over bad.

So, no TV until tomorrow. Which trust me, hurts me as much as it hurts him!

Just when you think it's going well...

In the beginning, there was Mason. In retrospect, he was a really, really good baby. If you would have asked me at the time, I would have lamented about how hard it was to have a baby. I have come to understand this is a typical feeling of a first timer, no matter how “easy” of a baby she has. At eight weeks of age, Mason was sleeping 12 hour stretches at night. I remember the first morning I woke up after he slept through all night—I immediately rushed to the basinet in a panic to ensure the boy was breathing. Then I pep talked myself that this sleeping all night business might be a fluke and not to get spoiled by it—it wasn’t. Mason was, and is, the Champion of Sleep. In the four years that have passed since that first night that he slept through, I can count on one hand how many times I’ve been up in the middle of the night with him. I love that boy!

I decided I was really good at this motherhood thing. Look at what a wonderful baby I have! He sleeps! He eats! He’s on such a wonderful schedule! I could have literally hurt myself from patting myself on the back. Why waste such wonderful talent? We should have another baby.

Along came Cole. And did that boy ever put me in my place. From the day he was born until he was six months old, he was up every two hours. I tried everything—more frequent day time feedings, swaddling, moving him to his own room (perhaps he was a light sleeper and our movements were the waking culprit?)… I was beginning to think he’d go to college with “frequent nightwakings” as the pediatrician labeled it. And then it came to me: What if I tried a bedtime routine? So we instituted a routine, and lo and behold, his sleeping improved, the waking lessened and soon ceased. Now this could have been merely coincidence that he started sleeping through the night at the same time I came up with this ingenious “routine” plan, but I liked to take all the credit. After all, when you’ve worked so hard at something, you can’t possibly be convinced that in the end, it just happened all on its own.

Which brings us to Lila. I hoped and prayed that I had paid my dues with Cole and now I would be rewarded! Lila wasn’t as bad as Cole—she’d sleep four hour stretches at night and sometimes even grant me the gift of five. I promised myself I wouldn’t get upset that she wasn’t sleeping through until she was six months old—the age Cole was when he finally granted me mercy. She turned five months and POOF! She started sleeping from 8pm until 7am. I labeled it a miracle (I no longer take credit [or blame] for the sleeping patterns of these children. I’ve finally given in to the fact that I have absolutely nothing to do with it). Here’s the kicker—I've come to realize that if you mess with her schedule even a little bit, she will pay you back in the middle of the night, and her wakings are brutal. Yesterday we went to the Duck Race and she wasn’t home and in her crib for her afternoon nap. She seemed fine enough, not too upset by the variation of routine. But as we were going to sleep, I predicted she would be up at some point. And she was! Problem is I’m so inexperienced with children who wake up in the middle of the night for not apparent reason! I have no clue what to do with her, so I feed her, change her, rock her, etc. until one of my tricks works or I bore her to sleep, not sure which is the case, but the end result is that I get to go back to bed.

The nature versus nurture debate could rage on for eternity, but we have three children who we’re raising very much the same and are all so very, very different. Logic would assume that the more years I log as a mother and the more children I have, the more skill I would have gained along the way and the “better” I would be. The truth is, I often feel as new at this as the day Mason was born. The only thing I know for sure is the more kids I have, the less I know!

My Very Own Annie Leibovitz

After the gym today, I went to take a quick shower, leaving the boys unattended. I put Bob the Builder on the occupy them, which usually does the trick. Today however, they had other plans. Mason got ahold of my camera and took over 100 pictures! Here are a few snippets:

First, he took a self portrait.




Next, he took a picture of Cole.



Then he took a picture of his chair,

followed by a picture of Cole in his chair.

His rocket ship...

Lila's basket of toys...

Then he took an interesting series that I like to call "Pictures of Pictures."

And my personal favorite, a picture of Cole getting into a ton of trouble. Here he is standing on my laptop to retrieve pens from the top of the computer armoire. He then used said pens to color on about a million different Post-it notes (that is my best estimation.)

When mama's away, the boys will play!

Holy Mackerel

Tonight, as I was making the boys dinner Lila was playing in the living room. She likes to be on the floor scooting around whenever she can.

Suddenly she start choking on something--I mean really choking turning blue, not able to breathe choking. So I ran in there, swooped her up, flipped her upside down and started whacking on her back, doing the best I could to remember the baby Heimlich we learned in Infant CPR. Mason's looking at me like I'm possessed and asks, "Why are you spanking her?"

The thing popped out after the first couple of whacks, and she starts coughing. I go to flip her over and almost freakin' drop her. I see the offending object is still in her mouth so I'm hurrying to fish it out before she chokes on it again.

It was a tiny tree branch, about 3/4 of an inch long. The dang dog and his shaggy fur, leaves and twigs are always hitchhiking in on him. She's always scooting after leaves he drops and I'm constantly picking them up.

Never before in over four years of being a mother have I had to eject an object from my child's trachea. This is a first I hope I never have to repeat. That Lila is a mischevious little thing.

So I nearly had a heart attack today. But Thank You God, she's okay. And Thank you Mr. Heimlich for your maneuver.

Heavyset to Hardbodies ... and everything in between

I’ve been frequenting the gym long enough to observe that there is an interesting ecosystem within it. And just as with any other, this ecosystem has defined clicks and even a definite pecking order, as well as a few odd ducklings. Once you enter the gym doors, it’s as if you’re stepping through a threshold into a parallel universe… it is literally its own little world.

There are several different groups of people divided amongst the various sweaty corners of the gym.

First, there are the Cardio Queens. They are usually drop dead gorgeous, painted with a full face of makeup, and adorned in perfectly matching workout clothes. The upper echelon of this group sports long, flowing locks that she doesn’t dare pull back into a pony tail (it’s so odd seeing someone on a treadmill with their hair down to their waist, I dare say it’s unnatural). Rarely do they exercise hard enough to break a sweat (their flat stomachs the result of tummy tucks, not toning), and they can often be seen socializing with other C.Q.’s on the treadmill. I’ve even seen one treadmill reading that she’d been walking for 30 minutes and only traveled a mere .5 mile. C.Q.’s are usually in the gym for about three hours in order to complete their 30 minute workout because pesky socializing gets in the way.

The archetype to the Cardio Queens is the Hulks—Big, burly men who grunt when they do their reps. They don’t walk, they strut, and their arms stick out at a 45 degree angle because of their enormity. I think they are all in a major competition with each other to see who can develop the biggest bulging vein amongst their collections of bulky muscles.

The Hulk’s female counterpart is Mrs. Hardcore. These are women who without long hair and sports bras would be confused as men. They don’t just have a six pack; they have an 8 pack, even a 10 pack in extreme cases. They only relax when they’re in the tanning bed, otherwise they are performing some sort of training. And no doubt, they are juiced up on some sort of illegal overseas pharmaceuticals, because it just ain’t natural to look like that.

Next, there is the yoga group. They perch upon their mats, spending a luxurious hour stretching and contorting into various poses. Never before have I met calmer people than the die hard yogis. Calm, peaceful, low talkers, they always seem focused on the miracle of their Zen. Everything I strive to be but alas, am not.

On the complete other end of the spectrum are the Spinners. They do everything fast-- they talk fast, they walk fast, therefore they burn calories fast. And if you watch them during a spin class, you can tell they are pushing themselves so far that they almost might die, but don’t. I’m always waiting for someone to stroke out and fall off a bike, but it hasn’t happened yet. And within this group, it’s a true badge of honor to have puddles of sweat collecting beneath you.

Then there is a special specimen, “Naked Old Lady in the Locker Room” (NOLITLR for short). I mean seriously, why can’t she just be “Old Lady in the Locker Room” – why must she be naked? And when I say old, I mean old. Just today I walked into the locker room and NOLITLR was right by the door. I was not at all prepared for that. This is a pretty big locker room we’re talking about, with at least 15 sinks, and she chooses to take her nakedness to the one that’s right by the door to wash her hands. What boggles my mind is that she often has a towel wrapped around her waist (which I appreciate, really I do)—why not boost it up and cover up the Girls too? It is a locker room, and I suppose it’s an appropriate place to be naked, but there’s nothing wrong with being dressed either. Her exhibitionism amazes me. You’d think she was a hot chick the way she prances around, but nope, she’s NOLITLR. Today I was granted to special treat of listening to NOLITLR’s conversation with another old lady—they were talking about vertigo. NOLITLR, if you’re prone to passing out, perhaps you shouldn’t be traipsing around naked. Could you imagine if the paramedics had to haul you out on a stretcher, buck naked?

And lastly (a recent addition) is the New Year’s Resolution clan. They really have no typical physical definitions as they are all ages, sizes, and include those in both sexes. They clog the gym for the month of January, staring at machines they can’t figure out and lifting free weights in an awkward, improper fashion, generally making you insane. They hog up the spin passes only to quit ten minutes in, leaving those who might actually want to take the full hour to settle for an hour on the treadmill. Oh, and P.S. -- putting the treadmill incline at Level 7 and hanging on the the handlebar for dear life while your legs chase after you... doesn't count as exercise. No worries though, they’re gone by Valentine’s Day, no doubt curled up somewhere with a giant heart-shaped box of chocolates.

Riddle me this

The boys have been in their room for the past hour reading books in Cole's bed. There have been no screaming, arguments, or blows thrown by either of them! Just happy chatter about dinosaurs and such for upwards of 60 minutes straight.

Which begs the question: What have I done to please the gods?

Sugar

Tonight I went grocery shopping. Saturday night excitement for a suburban housewife.

I was driving out of the parking lot and there was an old man leaving the store, waiting to cross in front of me. To be kind, I stopped to let him pass. Those of you familiar with Naples know that a) there are a whole lot of old people, and b) they cross the road really slowly. He is taking for-ever to clear the road.

As I'm scolding myself for being polite and letting this geezer pass, I notice the necessity of his cart is merely to help him walk as its contents are only two items:

1. A "Happy Anniversary" Balloon that is flapping in the breeze, and
2. A dozen red roses.

As the man crossed (and believe me, there was a lot of time), I wondered what number anniversary he's going to celebrate and hoped that one day when Rey is old he'll hobble into a Publix to get me flowers and a balloon. And I thought of how sweet it is that this little old man has a little old lady to go home to. Provided, of course, that the flowers and balloon weren't for his little old mistress. : )

Dear Girl Talking on your cell phone at the gym...

I understand you are probably a very important person holding a very important conversation, but is it really necessary to spend 30 minutes lounging on the leg extension machine whilst doing so?

I know, it must be confusing that this is not a resting place, seeing as the machine has this perfect little footrest to assist in reclining, thus making you more comfortable for your rather lengthy conversations, but there are people at the gym who actually want to put weight on said machine and use it to build muscle.

Perhaps, and this is merely a suggestion, you could move you ass over to the couch that is about 8 feet to your right. The gym supplies it for sitting and the machine you're lounging on for exercising.

Sincerely,
Girl Trying to Work on Her Fitness

Savannah

For those of you who know my friend Amber (and even for though of you who don't, really) please say a little prayer for her baby Savannah (who is not-so coincidentally Rey's and my goddaughter). She went into the hospital today for the second time in her barely 5 month long life. Without recapping the rather lengthy history of her maladies, she's rather sickly, and now they are suspecting pneumonia.

As someone who has lived through the experiences of both a hospitalized infant (Cole) and a NICU baby (Mason) I can say they are tied for the worst ones of my life. So I can say with earnest honesty that I hope and pray for a speedy recovery for Savannah, and a chance for her mother to enjoy some healthy children.

Mason

Mason and Cole got these swell pajamas from a relative for Christmas (also known as blanket sleepers). Cole is pretty obsessed with Cars, so he was loving his for that reason (he has many zip up pjs so this was not novel to him).

For Mason, on the other hand, it has been quite a long time since he's worn zip up, footed pajamas so this is a MAJOR novelty for him. All you moms out there are probably aware that a) these are difficult to come by in a size 4T and b) they really are a hinderance for the potty trained child. As a result, he's been sleeping in two piece pjs for over a year now.

Well, Mason is IN LOVE. He would wear these things morning, noon and night if I let him. He will unzip them and store Matchbox cars in the legs, stuff his Ruff Ruff in the stomach portion, etc. and generally carry all his crap around in these things like he's a pack mule.

Yesterday I told him if he wanted to get to sleep in them again that night he couldn't eat lunch in them because they'd get dirty. So he took them off, got dressed, ate lunch, and promptly requested permission to put them back on when the meal was over.

They're pretty thick so I catch him unzipping them and pulling his arms out, leaving the top to hang around his waist. He's sweating buckets, yet still refuses to take them off.

And for those curious minds, he's even figured out and effective and dare I say efficient method of using the bathroom in them.

Who knew that pajamas would be one of his favorite "toys" from Christmas??

Cole

This is what happens to a two year old little boy when he skips his nap! He was out the other day having a swell time in the backyard with his big brother and their buddy Andrew. Those boys are 4 years old and obviously have more stamina, because as soon as the fun was over and Andrew went home, Cole promptly climbed on the couch and went to sleep. Nothing like a little 5pm catnap!

Resolutions, Part Deux

I almost forgot....

This was the very first resolution I came up with--I want to take more video of the kids.

Mason and I bought Rey and video camera for Father's Day 2005 and we've barely used the thing. I take some footage from time to time with the video function on our digital camera, but you can't shoot too long or with much quality. But everytime I see one of the kids in action when they were tiny tiny tiny, it makes me wish I had more to watch.

So, I'm gonna work on it.

So Cute I can Hardly STAND it!

I came across this bedding in my standard Saturday morning leisurely online shopping session. If I were to birth a baby boy tomorrow, this would be his nursery bedding! I love the nostaligia yet currentness of it, not to mention the bright colors and cute characters!

PotteryBarnKids.com has a whole line of adorable Dr. Suess stuff, be sure to check out the cuteness!

Bye Bye Baby(Center)

I have heard rumblings of what has now been made official--the Baby Center store is going out of business on January 6th. Many things are marked down wicked cheap, so if you're in the market for something Baby, head on over because there are deals to be had.

I always liked the Baby Center store, and shopped there on several occasions because they were always just a little bit cheaper than many other online stores. But I am looking on the bright side here and being thankful that the whole site isn't going under. From way back during my pregnancy with Mason, I would get weekly email updates on each stage of his gestation, and to this day I continue to head there to search for topics from "Allergies" to "Yeast Infection Diaper Rash" (my current nemesis, poor Lila). So I'm am glad my little .com partner in motherhood will still be there, even if I'm losing a shopping spot!

2009

res-o-lu-tion [rez-uh-loo-shuhn] - noun

1. a formal expression of opinion or intention made

2. a resolve or determination

3. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.

Okay, so I'm not typically one to make resolutions. I once read somewhere that only about 12% of New Year's Resolutions are followed through with. But in the interest of being interesting, I'm making a few this year.

First, I going to read one book each month. I used to read at least one book per week, a pace I was able to keep up right through my pregnancy with Cole. So I think one per month is doable. This move is to achieve a greater goal of making more time for myself. I am drowning in motherhood. I need to find more me in ME. I'm thinking of starting with The Hour I First Believed.

Second, I want to get Mason to eat a more varied and by default healthier diet. A kid can't subsist on chicken nuggets, grilled cheese and waffles. He will fight me tooth and nail on this, I promise.

Third, I want to finish potty training Cole. This is a project that started spontaneously by his sudden interest and had stalled just as suddenly due to my lack of interest. Truthly, he's a good 90% of the way there and sports his dinosaur BVDs most of the time, so this one should be easy.

Last, I resolve to cook dinner four times a week. Okay, three times a week. No sense in setting unrealistic goals!