One Sunday in November

Oh. My. God, has it been forever. The 4th of July was my last post? Really?

 

Shameful, but Summer break, birthdays, house hunting, house buying, school starting, moving, illness, and another birthday meant I was too busy to think about my little blog.

 

So, in lieu of catching up, here are some photos from our Sunday. I wanted to do "10 on 10," but couldn't quite make it.

Happy 4th of July

Wordless Wednesday

A Bad Morning

Do you remember those mornings in high school when it all went wrong? Like not real world, starving children wrong, but Molly Ringwald wrong? The kind where the boy you like holds hands with another girl, you get a bad grade on a test then your bestie abandons you to have lunch with somebody else. This morning was one of those mornings.

After signing The Boy in at school I found him with two other boys. My love was showing one of his teddy bears to the boys and one of the boys said, 'I don't like that bear. His paws are scary.'

The Boy responded sweetly, 'but he's a really nice bear. He's just waving.' But the other boys seemed unconvinced. My heart hurt a little. I wanted those boys to accept The Boy and his bear and hoped desperately that his feelings weren't hurt.

Not wanting to embarrass him by hovering, I turned and left. As I headed out I saw two moms, one of whom I've spoken two several times before, having a chat. They'd been chatting when The Boy and I arrived too. No big deal, right? But coming on the heals of the mean boys being mean to The Boy, I just felt. like I was an invisible teenager again.

And just like in high school I wanted to come home, cry into my pillow and tell my cat how much I was hurting. I didn't, but this still sucks. I hate that my already shaky confidence is made even shakier by the fact that I'm disabled. I hate that the normal growing up and getting out into the world stuff The Boy is going through has to be experienced, by both of us, with me being the weird mom that no one wants to talk to.

I feel blue.

Travel

THIS post, written  by Andrea forever ago, brought back back bad memories of our flight back from Heathrow almost two years ago. We had an 11 AM flight and checked in in a daze before racing to the terminal before breakfast assuming we'd grab something to eat near our departure gate. We arrived a half hour before boarding only to realize, it being Heathrow and all, there was nothing AT the gate. No restaurant, cafe or shop, just a few crappy vending machines. So, awesome parents that we are, we gave The Boy some chips(crisps) and chocolate hoping to tide him over until we were given lunch on the plane.

Fast forward an hour and we were sitting on the plane with a child screaming from hunger, smiling sheepishly and apologizing while the rest of the passengers shot us eye-daggers as they boarded.

It looked something like this

It sucked, and we learned our lesson.

Since then we've avoided plane-travel but have begun our annual trip to San Francisco and have added another baby to take with us, but we're trying to keep things as simple as we can - in life and travel. But this is a big year. The Little Boy is turning one and I'm turning forty, both occasions to be marked by travel and, when added to our regular trips turn '13 into a pricey year. And this is supposed to be a cheap year as we save for a trip to Europe next year. Blerg.

Still, it's all worth it. Our Little Boy birthday trip is booked and my turning old trip will be booked within the next two weeks. I'm excited to book our San Francisco trip and starting to daydream about our trip to Europe next year. The reason it's all worth it is because this is what I do. I travel, and think about travel, and plan travel. Even now, when I'm dealing with a tempermental three year old and a broken body, travel's as essential to me as breathing.

I can only hope at least one of boys inherits my wanderlust.

School's Out

 

It' hard to believe how fast this year rushed by. Nine months ago we took my little buddy to his first day of school and he clenched his jaw, held back tears, asked us to stay, let tears flow and broke our hearts.

 

It was tough on all of us.

 

 

Last week, the end of the school year, was a different story. I took pics of The Boy, wandering non-chalantly into school - in his jammies, because they were having a pyjama party, but it took THIS POST on Andrea's blog to inspiredme to make a similar post comparing Day 1 to Day... whatever the last day was.



So now, on to Summer School!

And so it begins

Coffee with Grandpa.

Nearly forty years of following my dad to cafes, three years, interupted by school, of The Boy and I meeting my dad for coffee, and now it's The Little Boy's turn to inherit our family's soft spot for cafe society.

Honestly, The Little Boy and I have been enjoying outings with Grandpa for a while, but The Boy's brief break from school last week afforded us the first ever opportunity to get all four of us out together, without Hubs or friends or Step Mom.

Hooray!

Wordless Wednesday

Wordless Wednesday

It Feels More Like Work Now

Well, sort of. The Little Boy is pulling himself up on anything and everything so we purged my dilapidated, death trap of a desk and got a tiny yet solid desk for my little corner in our living room. Now I may be inspired to write a lot and blog a little.

Happy Day After Mother's Day

After years, only four years but whatever, of being disappointed by Hubs' lack of initiative regarding Mother's Day I finally took it upon myself to tell him what would make me a happy mama on Mother' Day - flowers and a nice brunch with my boys.

Mission accomplished as Hubs returned from shopping with some pink roses on Saturday and booked our standard fancy pants restaurant for brunch.

It was lovely. Hot, but lovely. And my boys held it together remarkably well. We came thisclose to needing to leave before dessert, but we managed to finish our meal and to avoid too much in the way of angry glares from fellow diners.

So, from me and my boys, Happy Belated Mother's Day!

Wordless Wednesday

American Made Summer

It's been uncharacteristically cool here and I've been loving every second of it. We do, however, live in Southern California so it was bound to heat up eventually. That means it's time to bust out the sun block, shorts and tees so my pasty boy can run around outside without turning pink.

Digging through The Boy's disorganized stash of seasonal clothes I realized that last year's 3T shorts and tees were already getting too small for my big boy and that I'd have to purchase some Summer stuff before Summer to tide him over.

In keeping with my plan to buy more American made stuff I bought these shorts

 and these

and this shirt

in size 4 from American Apparel and the stuff just barely fits. My kid's three and a half and this stuff is, theoretically at least, supposed to last until he's five. WTF? How did my big boy get to be so big?

In any event, I went back and bought him a pair of these shorts in a size 6. They still look pretty small, but I can't bear the thought of buying him an even bigger pair. And besides, I swear I rocked the same pair of shorts in the late 70's and early 80's, so they'll be good for entertainment value if nothing else.

Wordless Wednesday

Adventures in Santa Monica

I always make plans to get out and about, to take advantage of the things there are to do in Southern California more often. But we rarely escape our little sububurb. There's so. much. to do and we do so little of it. Shameful, really.

So it was a double bonus when an old friend of Hubs' and mine was in Santa Monica for work - an opportunity to catch up with him and for us to get out to the coast for the first time since The Little Boy was born.

We met our old friend at a pub, a pub that my dad and uncle used to take me to when I was wee so we could watch Laker's games in the 70's and 80's. Sniff.

We chatted and ate fried food and peas before heading out for a walk to check out the sea and sunset.

Here's The Boy, acting like the King of Santa Monica, with our friend.

And The Little Boy and Hubs with one of the canons, the story of which I can't remember.

Me and my boys with the pier in the background.

And a not terribly bad picture of the sunset taken from the pier.

It was a lovely evening and reminded me of two things. First - friends are still friends even if eleven years have passed since you've seen each other. Second - It's totally worth the minimal effort it takes to get out and see and do things. 

8 Months Old

Army crawling, almost actually crawling, babbling, teething, inquisitive and active. Very, very active.

Make Believe

One of my only memories of pre-school was of me wearing a veil and pretending I was a bride - probably the only time that happened until my mid-thirties and I actually WAS a bride. I remember being small and playing games but not so much of me pretending to be anything. I mean, I pretended to be Maria from West Side Story and Sandy from Grease, but that was later. A therapist might be able to have a field day with that.

So it's with a fair amount of relief that The Boy has been so keen to pretend to be an astronaut, a chef, a train engineer or whatever. Also, his school provides a bounty of dress up and make believe stuff, and they're generous lending policy. After The Little Boy was born The Boy went through a phase of bringing home a baby doll, he often brings home a pair of sparkly pink plastic heels or tap shoes, but most recently he's been coming home decked out as a fireman.

I Am Sentimental

Having a family was something I never knew I wanted. I mean, I always knew Hubs and I were stuck together forever, but being married and bearing offspring were always just vague ideas. "Yeah, I want kids someday," was something I'd think, but never with certainty. So now that my boys' childhoods are going by so. freaking. quickly. I cannot believe I wasted so much time being blase about thinking this was what I wanted.

Anyway, being "older" and slightly shocked that I'm digging this parenthood thing so much, I find myself being a total softy more often than I'd like to admit. Like the other night; It was an hour past bedtime and I could hear The Boy "reading" in his room. This is a regular occurance as he fights sleep like a Kung Fu master - quietly and with much determination. As much as I'd like him to maintain more of a regular sleep schedule - 8ish to 8ish, hopefully, maybe, someday - I gotta say I love hearing his little voice read his little stories. It doesn't matter how rough a day we've had or how tired I am, when I hear him happily reciting stories from the memory of Hubs or I reading them to him a million times, my heart melts a little. Actually, it melts a lot.

I'm sure most people, barring those experiencing obvious marital/familial difficulties, think they have the best family ever. And I'm sure many families are genuinely awesome. But my family really and truly is the best. Seriously. Hubs is not only gorgeous and clever, but a saint to boot. He is a fantastic dad and he puts up with my disability AND my crankiness. It's a mystery what I ever didtomake him love me so. Likewise, my boys are spectaular. I don't know much about kids in general, but I'm pretty sure mine are among the cutest, smartest and funniest ever to walk the earth. Yes, I'm aware that I'm a gushing cliche.

And even when things aren't awesome, like now when dealing with teething - I'm looking at you Little Boy - or the certain stropiness that goes along with being three, I never think of my boys as anything but my treasures and love Hubs even more for feeling the same.

Man Of Few Words

Hubs doesn't say much. And it's not just me being a word slut that makes me say that, he is a genuinely reserved individual. He doesn't speak unless he feels it's necessary and he chooses his words judiciously.

 

And he doesn't smile often either, and almost never for the camera.

 

What a shame because he sure is cute.

Wordless Wednesday

7 Months(and 2 days)

Almost crawls, likes avocado but not broccoli, outgrew the shortest setting on his jumperoo, is fascinated by Cat, is even more fascinated by his big brother.

This is what happens...

When I leave Hubs alone with the boys on a Sunday morning. The entire baby entertainment deal gets moved outside, including the Pack and Play.

I had brunch plans with some girlfriends this past Sunday - yay - and when I emerged from my bedroom all gussied up and ready for a mimosa I found The Little Boy chillin' in the back yard while Hubs supervised The Boy's trike riding nearby.



Wordless Wednesday

About Damn Time

Food! Solid food. Or solid-ish food. The day The Little Boy turned one half of one year old  I finally fed him some cereal and he didn't hate it. 

 

I'm actually surprised he ate it, or slurped it, as I made it myself. Yup, I followed http://wholesomebabyfood.momtastic.com/ ' s recipe and pulvarized the heck out of some brown rice before boiling it and serving it to my hungry boy. It was super easy and felt like much less of a waste since I didn't buy a container of baby cereal that I'd only use a little bit of.

 

Next up, grinding up some barley then onto oatmeal and veg!

6 Months Old

The Little Boy is six months old. He does push ups, laughs with gusto, worships his big brother - already? - and, as of 11 AM PST, has yet to eat any solid food.

That will change once he wakes from his nap.

Wordless Wednesday