Roll, roll, roll your body, Gently on the floor...

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Let's do this some more.
(So, so sorry. Lame, I know, but this tune keeps going through my head and I'm trying to find an outlet before I go crazy!)

Seven month old Laurel has been mobile for a couple of months now. She's not quite crawling, in fact, we thought for sure she was going to skip that step until this past week. She has only recently started creeping by dragging her belly, arms outstretched, and toe inching it forward. No, her mobility is not in crawling, but instead by rolling. She manages to get to any object or place her little heart desires by putting her body in full spin. Round and round she goes, where she stops, only Laurel knows.


She begins at the playhouse. So much to do here, but alas, she is a baby and her interest quickly wavers. She looks around for something more interesting and finds...








...rattles and all things chewable. One tooth in and another trying to emerge means TEETHING!









Looky, looky, a ball. Oooohhhh, and a stereo with gobs and gobs of buttons to push.









Score! Ian left his train out, and he's no where to be seen. Finally, she has a chance to play with it.









But wait, a container with all its contents still enclosed? This can not be...SPILL!








The destruction continues...











Mama, enough already with the camera and give me some sweet, nourishing booby juice! NOW!!!!!

It'll Stunt Your Growth, Kid

Being ever observant, Ian has picked up on my parents' coffee addiction. Dinosaur cup in hand, grin on face, twinkle in eye, he boldly states...








I is drinking coffee.
















I'm just not worth a damn until I've had my morning cup of joe juice.

(Lighten up there buddy, or I'm going to enroll you in a twelve step program.)





Question for all parents/care providers of toddlers: Why won't he eat the bread crust? I'm pretty sure he hasn't seen anyone do this, he just does it naturally. It's like a graveyard of crust remnants.

The only thought that comes to mind, is we've worked on not eating the rind off watermelon and cantaloupe. He might be overgeneralizing.

The Importance of Grandparents

Happy Belated Grandparent's Day!

Such an important day, and somehow I missed it.

Paul and I feel very lucky to have both sets of our parents live nearby. Our children get to be constantly loved by two Grandmas and two Papas. They are also lucky to have two Great-Grandmas and two Great-Grandpas that live in our state, but unfortunately, are far enough away we only see them two or three times a year.

Ian and Laurel's Grandparents give them experiences that Paul and I just would never be able to find time to do or think of. Conversations, play, stories, gardening, walks, shopping, road trips, songs, laughter, games, phone calls, anticipation, hugs and kisses are just some of the perks for our children.

I know Ian would not be the same person without the influence of his grandparents, and the same will be true of Laurel. It is simply amazing to watch our children interact with our parents. There is so much love between them. Everyday, Ian demands, "Go bye-bye, see Papa and Grandma." Whenever their visit at our house is over, and they leave without taking Ian home with them, he is heartbroken. He frequently tears through the house to grab the phone when he hears their voices. Oh how he loves to pretend objects are phones just so he can call Grandma and Papa to talk to them (a great diaper change distraction by the way). He also loves to look at photoalbums and delightfully point them out.

In addition to all the fun and laughter, grandparents play an important teaching role. They spend their time differently from us parents. Whether it be gardening, talking to family members abroad on the phone, shopping, road trips, or painting, all these activities are taught to our children that would otherwise be missed out on. The vocabulary and ideas Ian has learned thanks to his grandparents are abundant.

Let's face it, the importance of grandparents lies in the very love they feel towards their grandchildren. The hugs, kisses, and laughter make our children know they are important. So Papa and Grandma, go ahead, spoil and enjoy our babies. Let them stew in your love, and they'll turn out nice and juicy!

HAPPY GRANDPARENT'S DAY!





Papa Dave

Grandma Ann

Papa Chuck

Grandma Edie

Great-Grandma Eva

Great-Grandma Edith

Great-Grandpa Del

Great-Grandpa Ray

Ian's First Time Ever to the...

We are heading to Target, when I spontaneously decide to pass it up. That's right, you heard me, I drive right past our usual turn off, and head straight towards...the...LIBRARY! I don't know what triggered that decision in my brain, but next thing I know, I am parked and getting the stroller out for Laurel. I tell a confused Ian where we are, and what to expect...BOOKS!

I know, it's a crime that I haven't taken my 27 month old son to the library before this. I can hear my husband nodding in agreement (rattle, rattle), especially since I've been spending a small fortune buying books at the stores and online. What can I say, I use to be a teacher. Today, it dawns on me as we are driving to Target, that a person could actually read and reread books (a mandatory activity for parents of todders) for free by checking them out at the library. Wow, what a concept...free, no, let me rephrase that...FREE! Well, umm, free that is, if I return them on time. We'll have to wait and see how that goes.

We walk into the children's section of the library, and Ian yells out, "Mommy, books. Books, mommy." He's very excited. Then he shouts, "Mommy, Bob the Builder!" as he points to a humongous quilt displaying said character. My little man's hooked and I now know what kind of book to look for. Laurel just blankly stares at the new surroundings.

I aim the stroller towards the board book section, figuring if we check out books for Ian, I want to make sure they won't rip. The section was certainly easy enough to find, I just followed the sounds of a crying youngster. Ian spots kids playing with wooden puzzles and bead mazes, and runs ahead of me to join in the fun. I realize he's not going to be interested in books for a while, so I let him play. Nearby is a bookshelf that I skim. I start pulling books that I think Ian and/or Laurel will be interested in. Then I spot it, a huge Scoop (from Bob the Builder) board book. Perfect!

I sit down on the floor with Ian and begin reading. "Mommy, again, read Scoop book again."

Success! Ian wants to read this book instead of playing. I barely start reading the book again, when out of nowhere two other eager young fellows show up and try to grab the book out of my hands. Easily enough, I convince them to sit down and join us in the story. The last page is turned, and they all shout out, "Again!"

After the third reading, I decide to let Ian read the book on his own so I can continue looking through the rest of the board books. Unfortunately, one of the other boys grabs it out of Ian's hands and runs off. We never see Scoop again. Poor Ian. He doesn't cry, he just numbly sits there trying to figure out what just happened. What can I say, Ian's not in daycare or in a playgroup and isn't street wise yet.

Laurel starts to get restless and begins crying, cueing that it is time to go. We go to the counter, get Ian's first ever library card (a significant milestone in my opinion), and check out the books on his card. Home we head to read, reread, and rereread these wonderful little treasures.


For the curious:
Ian's favorite book we checked out is School Bus by Donald Crews. We already own Truck and Freight Train by Crews, so I knew it would be a hit.




My favorite book we checked out is The Napping House by Audrey Wood, a sweet, funny story about the ongoing activity during a family's naptime.

Must Be a Full Moon

When I taught elementary school, we always seemed to be able to predict the weather and moon phases based on our students' behaviors. If our classes seemed wild, we knew either a full moon was due, or a storm was heading our way. Sounds silly, but it always seemed too coincidental.

Yesterday, after eating lunch, Laurel, Ian, and I head upstairs for our very routine naptime. Diapers changed, stories read, Laurel goes right to sleep. Ian, however, is restless. After an hour of getting him to settle down, I think he has fallen asleep and take the opportunity to jump into the shower.

Right as I'm rinsing out the conditioner in my hair, the bathroom door swings wide open, quickly followed by a bouncing, ecstatic Ian. He's smiling ear to ear. "Hi, mommy, hi!"

I decide to ignore him and continue with my shower. "Hi, mommy, hi!"

I still ignore him. Ian puts his determined, smiling face up against the transparent shower curtain and yells, "HI, MOMMY, HI!"

Holding fast, I continue giving him no response, hoping he'll give up and go back to his room. But then I hear something that needs my attention, Laurel is crying. No, make that Laurel is screaming.

Quickly, I rinse off any remaining soap, turn off the water, grab a towel and run past Ian towards Laurel's room. The second my eyes look inside her room, I only see white. There are baby wipes completely covering the floor. Walking on wet wipes, I peer into Laurel's crib. Her face is bright red from screaming. And no wonder, she's lying in the middle of towels, wash cloths, burp cloths, and blankets. Poor thing, buried alive. Fortunately, all these items are soft and light.

I scoop up Laurel and soothe her, while having Ian pick up the baby wipes, all the time repeating, "Baby wipes stay in the package, baby wipes don't go on the floor." This activity is followed by him putting all of Laurel's linens back into the drawer. It took every ounce of my strength to not laugh at Mr. Ian during all of this.

Yes, we had a storm last night, and double yes, there is a full moon tonight. Aye carumba!

Lesson via Ian-Style

It never ceases to amaze me, that it is we parents who are continually learning from our children.

Paul occasionally scores Diamondback baseball tickets through the company he works for. Ah, not just any tickets mind you, he gets Suite Tickets, and this time he got the entire suite! This includes three parking passes, two of which are reserved. All together now...sweet.

Paul needs to find bodies to fill the seats, not the easiest thing to do when the game is on a weekday afternoon. He calls friends and family. Fortunately, our friends Chris and Beth are able to go and bring along their daughter Riley. Ian now has a playmate for the game. Things are looking great!

Beth decides to stop by on her way home from work to pick up the tickets. I'm upstairs giving my dark and graying roots a salon treatment out of a box, while Paul watches the kids. Eventually, I hear Beth's voice and decide to say, hello. Looking down from the top of the staircase, I see Beth looking through Ian's toys and Paul looking at things around the room. Ian is excitedly running around the room wearing a huge smile. I'm curious, "Hi guys, what's going on?"

Puzzled and still scanning the room, Paul yells up, "Oh, I put Beth's tickets on the side table. I think Ian took them and put them somewhere."

Well, of course, naturally. Evidently, we still have not learned the age old lesson: anything within a toddler's reach should be considered GONE!

Trying to be helpful, I ask my happy-go-lucky son, "Ian, where did you put the tickets?"

Pointing at the den, he yells, "There!" He then bounces towards the den, Paul following close behind. No luck.

I try to think of all the places Ian has been interested in lately. Could the tickets be under the couch or between the cushions? In the trash or recycle bin? On the bookshelf? With his train set or car collection? Under the refrigerator or stove? In the VCR? In the air vent? In the toilet? Repeatedly the answer is no (thank goodness especially on that last one).

This could go on all night, so I tell Beth to take our tickets. We'll keep looking and hopefully find the others. We may have to put Ian under a bright light and interrogate him, but we'll find the tickets. Relunctantly, she takes our tickets and heads home.

Looking around the family room where the tickets were last seen, I repeatedly ask Ian, "Where are the tickets?"

He is all giggles as he points to different locations and delightfully squeals, "There!"

Paul and I search everyplace Ian directs us, but alas, no sign of baseball tickets. Finally it dawns on me, Ian spends a lot of time playing with items on the shelves by the laundry room. Extremely hopeful to solve this mystery, I practically run to the location and search under and between things on the shelves. I take my purse off the shelf and a stack of tickets falls to the floor. Oh glorious day, I found the tickets! A quick phone call to Beth to ease her worried mind, and then a hug for Ian for reminding us of yet another toddlerism.

Lesson learned, we do not put anything we want to see again on a surface that is shorter than four feet high. Of course, this height restriction will change as Ian grows, or when he learns to use a step ladder, chair, or similar object to get what he wants.

Ian and Laurel enjoying a walk during the 7th inning.

There's plenty of room to play in the suite. Give it up Ian, Riley just isn't interested in trading her cars for your space shuttle.

How do you work these things?

Laurel is trying to figure out how those wiggly things on her hands work. She sees mom, dad, even big brother pick things up with them, so she should be able to do it also. Question is, how do you make them do what you want?





I see crackers. I want those crackers. I can almost reach them!






I know I picked them up, why aren't they in my mouth?
(I can't help but laugh when the crackers are stuck to her palm. She opens and closes it, but the cracker just won't fall off.)







Oh, bother! If I can't eat the crackers, then I'll have to settle for the tray. Sigh.

Help, I'm Shopping Challenged

Recently, a good friend and I went out for a much needed lunch, girl-talk and shopping. Neither of us are enamored by finding, trying on and purchasing apparel, but we were on a mission: to buy clothes that didn't say beaten down mommy all over them.

Looking through my closet, deciding what colors were lacking, I sadly noticed a trend. T-shirt after boring solid t-shirt stared back at me from the rack. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my t-shirts! They're soft, comfortable, inexpensive, quick to change once you're spit up on or marked with crayons, good at covering up my...ummm...lumpiness (no, I don't have a disease, just two C-sections and not losing the added pounds have left their marks), and most importantly, they're IRON FREE! Ah yes, t-shirts, a mommy's best friend. But enough is enough, how many different shades of blue could one have in the same style shirt before the fashion police show up at your door? Uh oh, I hear sirens.

So off to the store I go, supportive friend leading me by the hand, determined to NOT buy yet another t-shirt. We take a huge leap and head to Coldwater Creek. As I peruse the racks, I start thinking I need glasses. My mind boggles, "Could this be right? Surely, this is an error. Really? $59 for a simple, mostly cotton blouse? But it's not even silk!"

My fingers quickly grab nearby price tags of different blouses and pants as I try to grasp the fact before me: these ARE the actual prices! I'm sweating, my breathing is erratic, and my head is spinning. I look up to see if others are also in shock. No, everyone else is happily, nay, gleefully selecting item after item. All those years of shopping Target have definitely molded my sale/clearance priced mind.

"I can do this, I must do this," over and over I tell myself. My little pep talk begins to take affect, and I choose a couple of blouses and pairs of pants to try on. A vulture saleswoman quickly offers a dressing room to store my finds until I am ready. Slowly, my friend and I make our way through the store. Everything is beautiful, I really like what I see, but those prices! And then I see it, a white blouse that screams, "TAKE ME HOME!"

I gingerly pick it up and nervously look at the price tag...$69. Too late, I'm in love. If it fits, if I look good in it, it's MINE...MINE I TELL YOU, ALL MINE!

We are greeted at the dressing room entrance by another overly eager vulture saleswoman. She asks our names to find our rooms. My friend is whisked away to a room as I stand at the ready to try on my beautiful blouse. The saleswoman comes back to me, scratches her head and asks, "What is your name again?"

She quickly looks at the post-it-notes identifying each room's customer, sheepishly walks back and tells me, "I am so sorry. I thought you had left the store, and I put everything back. Tell me what you got and I'll go find them."

I tell her what I can remember, which isn't much after the whole get-use-to-the-pricing trama. This actually is a lucky break. Since she screwed up, I feel the need to only buy the blouse. Sure, I'll try on the other stuff, it will be my exercise for the month day, but the white blouse is the only thing I have to have.

I'm escorted to a room and try on everything. Funny thing, the only article that actually fits is the blouse. Hmmm, a case of predisposition? Next door, my friend is having lots of success with complete outfits, no less.

We go to check out. The sound of my purchase...cha-ching. The sound of my friend's purchase...CHA-CHA-CHA-CHING!!! I am happy. I have spent a wonderful afternoon dining, shopping, and most importantly, giggling with a friend. There is a lovely white blouse hanging in my closet, ready for the next date I have with my husband or girls' night out. I think I'll wear it with my, ummm, my sweatpants, ummm, my denim shorts, ummm, my knit shorts, ummm...oh for Pete's sake!

His Own Personal Scapegoat

Ian loves his baby sister. He squeals with delight as he snuggles up to her and kisses her. He's more than willing to run after the ball she dropped and give it back to her. He often gives her toys to keep her happy, even toys he's currently playing with.

All this love, however, comes at a price. I know why he's such an adoring older brother...she is his scapegoat.

A quick whiff of an all too familiar smell, and I ask, "Who pooped?"

With a twinkle in his eye, Ian delightfully yells, "Laurel pooped."

I actually believed him the first couple of times. But when every inspection proved a dry, clean diaper upon his innocent sister, I finally got wise. Now when I ask, "Who pooped?" and Ian replies, "Laurel," I go after him.

Baseball and Babies...

We are Diamondbacks fans! Win or lose, we are Diamondbacks fans. And of course we are doing our best to brainwash our children...








Ian was all of 3 months at his first baseball game.















Laurel was a whopping 6 months at her first baseball game.









Go Diamondbacks!!!

Chicken or Egg Syndrome

I read this article, No Brats Allowed!, and wondered...

What came first? The adult or the child?

The article discusses how the public is becoming more and more non-child oriented. People think children are acting increasingly inappropriate in stores, restaurants, airplanes, museums, etc. Is this true? Are we really seeing a rise in misbehavior, or has it been there all along?

I had a high school teacher who brought this subject up. He joked about it, but put it in perspective for me, saying, "Even the Romans complained about their youth. Back then adults complained about teenage chariot drivers running over pedestrians."

Since kids naturally do act up and always have, then why does a growing number of people think child misbehavior is getting out of control? Are adults getting more uptight, or are we letting our youth run amuck? Maybe it's a little of both.

Children should be allowed to run, giggle, scream, jump, and wonder. Using all of their senses, they are learning about the world around them. Parks, playgrounds, back and front yards, beaches, and gymnasiums offer bountiful opportunities for them to explore. At the same time, children are usually thrown into the mix with other people, peers and adults included. That's when rules have to be observed. Now they have to be considerate of others (as much as they can for their specific ages). Toddlers may have difficulty sharing and controlling their voice level, but they can understand not to hit or bite others. Preschoolers know how to use an indoor voice but are still learning to not interupt when a conversation is already in progress. (Alright, so I'm making a guess on that last one since neither of my kiddos are that age yet.)

Yes, when in public, children should be expected to be among the mix, within reason that is. We parents are responsible for keeping the needs of our children in mind. It just doesn't make sense to take a toddler to an adult oriented museum or a fancy restaurant. Some parents justify such actions saying they work and want to spend time with their children. That's understandable, but they need to go to a place where a Kid can be a Kid. Zoos, family style restaurants, malls, parks and youth museums are better alternatives. I don't expect my toddler to sit still at a coffee shop while I enjoy my Frappuccino. However, I can enjoy said beverage while I watch him play at the park.

Once the family is in a child friendly location, that doesn't mean we let our children have free rein. Being out in public gives parents the opportunity and obligation to teach social etiquette one skill at a time. Today my toddler is learning to stay with mommy and not run off, tomorrow he'll learn to use an indoor voice. It takes time and patience, and won't happen overnight. In fact, it won't happen at all if parents don't take the lead, and lead we must!

Children tend to mirror their parents' behaviors. If mommy cusses, her son probably will too. Daddy is rude towards others, his daughter is also. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, has a lot of truth in it. Our children are constantly watching and learning what we model for them. That's how they learn most of the rules in the game of life. If we expect our youth to display manners and respect, we need to start with ourselves.

What about the ever dreaded airplane scenario? The best of parents can have difficulty keeping their toddler happy in such a confining space. Some passengers are understanding, some not so. If parents are doing their best to help their child cope, then anyone with a complaint just needs to suck it up. An airplane is definitely a public place, and not always a pleasant one at that (delays, security, delays). I realize there are passengers trying to work or get some sleep, but you know what, children are people too and have rights. Toddlers' needs are different from adults, but they are still needs and not just wants. If letting a child walk/toddle up and down the aisle keeps him from crying, then let him. If a child reaches a point of crying, be understanding. Criticism and dagger looks only teach inappropriate behaviors, not solve them.

So, what came first, the adult or the child? Definitely, the adult! As parents, we have the responsibility to model and teach our children what behaviors are acceptable, especially when in public places. Those of us who are not parents also have the responsibility to model appropriate behaviors. We are all citizens of this world, age does not matter. Eventually, we interact with one another. Treat others as you want to be treated, not just a cliche, it's LIFE!

*********************************************************************
Edit note: the following was added Tues., Aug. 22 9:45 p.m.

Thanks for the responses. I thought I needed to add some clarification to my thinking:

I taught various grades (2, 3, 4, and 6) at an elementary school for 11 years before becoming a SAHM. I didn't think behaviors got progressively worse year to year. Some of the toughest classes I taught were early in my career. Maybe I just got better at disciplining and it reflected in how the students acted in my class. I had high expectations of every student and was very consistent with rules, rewards and consequences. My students knew the rules, rewards and consequences, and knew I was consistent in dealing with behaviors, both appropriate and inappropriate (I'm not going to use the words bad and good). I had students with extreme behavioral problems (ADHD, bipolar, depression) that could function and behave appropriately in a mainstreamed classroom setting. I took the time and was consistent in order for that to happen. Not all teachers do that, although in my opinion they should. Then again, so should the parents. Were my students perfect? By no means NO. Whenever someone took a step backwards, we would try again, maybe try a different strategy, but never give up and just let them continue misbehaving.

Out in public, I think I see children, and adults for that matter, acting more and more inappropriately. One reason I feel this is happening, is because people are always in such a hurry and don't care who they run over while they are trying to get things done. Hello, everybody, let's be a little more considerate of others. Another reason, is many parents drag their children around everywhere they go; the grocery store, the post office, department stores, restaurants, even to Starbucks! It is not reasonable to expect toddlers, or even older kids, to remain calm when they've been sitting in a shopping cart, stroller, and a car for hours on end. Parents need to keep themselves in check and not let this happen. Kids need opportunities to run and play.

Those of us concerned with this topic, can't exactly go out there and tell others how to parent their kids. I do my part by: (a) being a good role model to my children, and maybe even to other adults; (b) having high, but reasonable expectations of my children (Ian can walk through a store without touching things); (c) keeping my children's needs in mind and not expecting the impossible out of them (I'm not taking my two year old to see The Marriage of Figaro); (d)reinforcing my children's appropriate behaviors; (e) minimizing my children's inappropriate behaviors through positive disciplining and using natural consequences; (f)teaching again once my own children are school age.

Goof!

One of my favorite, silly movies is Parenthood with Steve Martin, Mary Steenburgen, Diane Wiest, Keanu Reeves, etc. just an awesome cast. Remember...

Tod: You know, Mrs. Buckman, you need a license to buy a dog, to drive a car - hell, you even need a license to catch a fish. But they'll let any butt-reaming a--hole be a father.

Garry: What is it with all the women in this family, that makes all the men in this family wanna leave?

Karen: I happen to LIKE the roller coaster, okay? As far as I'm concerned, your grandmother is brilliant.
Gil: Yeah if she's so brilliant why is she sitting in our NEIGHBOR'S CAR?


And then there's this one that's hitting a little close to home:
Karen: He likes to butt things... with his head.
Nathan: How proud you must be.






What a champ! I wonder if his head is still ringing? We may need to touch up the paint on that wall and door. Nah...we'll wait until the kids have flown the coop.

Shopping Success

Sometimes success comes in baby toddler steps...

After failing (well maybe not failing, but I definitely got a D-) the Take the Toddler and Baby Through the Store Without Having a Tantrum Test, I've steered clear of shopping with the two of them in tow. I admit it, I have been extremely nervous about facing that demon again.

Then there's that age old cliche: when you fall off a horse, get right back on (which I've actually been through, so this shouldn't be so hard, right? HA!). I finally decided to give shopping another try with my angels.

Yesterday, we went to Walmart. I figured that was as good a place as any to expose others to crying babies. After all, it's practically commonplace there. When we parked the van, I decided to talk to Ian about what I expected from him.

Me: Ian, do you want to ride in the cart or walk in the store?

Ian: Walk, mommy.

Me: I'll put Laurel in the cart and you can walk with mommy. You must walk next to mommy and look at things, no hands. Say, "No hands".

Ian: No hands.

Me: That's right, no hands, just look with your eyes. If you touch something with your hands you will have to ride in the cart. Ian, what happens if you touch something with your hands? You have to ride in the (pause)...

Ian: ...cart.

Me: Right. You can walk next to mommy and look at things.

As I put a padded cart cover and Laurel in the cart, I repeated the above conversation with Ian. He seemed to listen and think about what I was saying. I started to feel some of my apprehension disappear.

We walked towards the soap aisle. An excited Ian walked right next to the cart. He happily looked around and told Laurel and I what he saw. "Mommy, lollipops. Mommy, bananas. Mommy, cups."

He was having a great time. I felt more and more relaxed as we continued walking through the store together. As I put hand soap in the cart, I caught Ian reaching for something on the shelf. "Uh oh, Ian, if you touch something you have to go in the cart. Just look."

"Ok, mommy."

He actually dropped his hands down to his sides! Lots of praise headed his way.

Being a toddler, he of course had to test his limits. In one of the aisles, he was tempted by some toy sprinkler. He just couldn't help himself and grabbed it. I bent down to look him in the eyes and said, "Ian, you touched the toy. You need to go into the cart for two minutes."

Oh yes, there were tears and heart-breaking sobs. Once he had done his time, I picked him up out of the cart and restated the no touch rule. He calmed right down and was willing to walk alongside me again.

Would you believe we trekked through the toy department and he didn't touch a single item! He occasionally would stop, look at something and talk to me about it. He showed lots of enthusiasm, especially towards Thomas, Elmo and Bob the Builder products, and yet he managed to show control. I was/am so proud of him.

And what of his reward, you may ask. Lots and lots of praise and clapping on the way out of the store and the drive home. No candy, no toy, just a great feeling inside.

Must. Eat. Food!

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who would only consume booby juice. She looked at her parents in horror whenever they tried to put solid foods in her mouth. Thanks to the advice of books, magazines, and blogging friends, the little girl's parents relaxed and tried again a few weeks later.

Those weeks flew by and the parents eagerly fed solids to the little girl. Again, she looked on in horror and spit the wretched stuff out. No, she was not ready for change and refused to cave based on others' wishes.

A few more weeks flew by, only this time when a not-entirely-lactose-based-product was placed into her mouth, she paused...she tasted...she swallowed! Her eyes lit up as her taste buds sprang to life at this new discovery. She opened her mouth wide and waited. Her anxious parents realizing she wanted more, quickly scooped the luscious substance onto the spoon and fed it to her. The little girl was so delighted in this finding, she couldn't help but say, "Mmmmmmmmmm." There was no turning back, she was hooked.




Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy, here it comes!




Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!!!

Carrots, oh yeah!

Green beans, ummm, I can take them or leave them.











Alright, so I'll leave them...on you that is...THBPBPTHPT (major raspberry, targeting those within range)!!!!

Oops, I sprayed.








Ummmm, I don't suppose I could have another shot at those tasty carrots?

What's That Smell?

I wake up in the middle of the night. It's quiet, I don't hear either child crying. In fact, Paul isn't snoring for once. So why did I wake up? I lay there a minute, take in a deep breath, and then it hits me square in the nose...a stench drifting from some unknown origin. What is that smell? I check both kids' rooms, sniffing around expecting to find vomit or something worse. Surprisingly, my nose detects nothing in either room.

Too tired to investigate downstairs, especially since I need to take advantage of the fact both kids are asleep, I decide to ignore the offending odor. To sleep I go, hoping I don't forget to follow up on the stench in the morning.

There is no chance of forgetting, the smell permeats the entire downstairs level. I go into the kitchen to get Ian his daily fix of milk a-la-sippy cup. The funk is so heavy in there I gag. Quickly I check the garbage, nothing. Next, the sink and garbage disposal, nothing. As I open the fridge and grab the milk, I nearly pass out from the funk that fills my nostrils. BINGO!

I open the vegetable and fruit compartments, nothing. I search each shelf, nothing. Where is that smell coming from? The freezer, no. Then I remember, I keep onions and potatoes on top of the fridge. I reach up and drag down the basket containing said produce. Something drips. Drips, can that be right? To my horror, I find that an onion has liquified. Never have I smelled anything so putrid. Seriously, I've changed many a diaper, cleaned vomit, and diarrhea, nothing comes close except the trash barrel that sits outside baking its contents of trash and diapers all week in the Arizona sun.

I "pour" the contents of the basket into the trash can as I breathe through the shirt I've pulled up over my nose. The basket is dripping wet from the onion. There's no way I'm touching malodorous onion goo, so of course the basket winds up in the trash too.

The plastic bag is quickly knotted and taken out to the trash barrel. Cans of air freshener are sprayed, all the ceiling fans get turned on and I get busy cleaning up the liquid from the top of the fridge and the floor. It takes a while, but eventually we are able to breathe again.

And For My Birthday I Got...

... the world's largest, scariest ELMO!!! The birthday party consisted of two year olds. When Elmo walked through the door, the happy clatter of busy toddlers gave way to hysterical screams, especially from the birthday boy. Poor little fella.


Here's a picture of Elmo from a two year old's point of view. Scary, isn't he?

Look out, it's Elmozilla!

The hosting mommy got smart and provided trucks and cars for everyone to play with and had Elmo sit down on the ground. Ian was the first to jump in and play with Elmo.










Ian was the only toddler to venture a hand shake with Elmo.










One has to wonder, how much therapy is necessary for childhood tramas such as this one?

3, 2, 1, Meltdown

On certain days, I'm feeling a bit green. But on this particular day, I'm feeling especially GREEN!

It's Friday, Ian's going to two birthday parties this weekend. One for a two year old, and one for a five year old. The clock is ticking, so Laurel, Ian and I run to Target. Since Laurel is now an independent sitter, I decide to let her ride in the shopping cart and have Ian walk alongside me. Mistake number 1.

Laurel is pleased as punch about sitting in the cart. Ian is also excited about being out of the cart. (No big surprise there.) We go to the card section first. Ian squeals with delight and points out everything he sees. "Mommy, disaur on card. Mommy, Elmo on card. Mommy, frog, green frog on card."

To my detriment, he realizes he can take the cards out of the display case and starts showing them to me. "Ian, put the card back please."

"Mommy, Elmo on card." Proud of his find, he holds it up for me to see.

Elmo's head is slightly bent from Ian's overly exerted grasp. I think to myself, it's Elmo, it's a birthday card, and the two year old will probably never notice the crease. I quickly get an envelope and put both in the back of the shopping cart.

"Ian, don't touch the cards. Just look at the cards." Mistake number 2: I say this standing over him as I continue to look for another card. I know better than that, I need to bend down and make eye contact to get his attention.

My request is in vain. Before I even finish the sentence, he's holding another card.

"Mommy, cake. Mommy, cake!"

"Yes, birthday cake. Let's put the card back."

I now realize my mistake of letting Ian run free in the store, and quickly find a birthday card suitable for a five year old.

"Come on Ian, let's go."

I push the cart out of the aisle and soon notice he's not following. Mistake number 3. Duh, like a two year old is willingly going to leave an area containing pictures of his heroes (Elmo, Bob the Builder, and especially CAKE!).

I go back and lead Ian by the hand this time. Surprisingly, he doesn't put up much of a fight. I know Laurel needs clothes and head in that direction. Mistake number 4. I should grab only what I immediately need since Ian isn't contained.

As I look around trying to find infant sized clothing, Ian pulls his hand free. I think he'll be alright on his own around clothing and let him go. I mean, how interesting could clothes be to a two year old? Mistake number 5.

I turn my back to the kids to look at some shirts (mistake number 6), and then hear something that tells me my attention is needed. Ian is extremely busy tossing tiny pink shorts into the cart. "Laurel wants pants," he proudly proclaims.

Quickly I try to put the shorts back onto the shelf they came from, but Ian is already on the move. He's now holding several shirts that are obviously going to be tossed into the cart. Getting a little smarter, but not by much, I hold his hand and begin putting the clothing back. Coming to my senses, I realize we need to just get the birthday presents and go.

We enter the toy department. I am still holding Ian's hand as we cruise the aisle looking for something of interest to a two year old and a five year old. Excitedly, Ian yells out, "Mommy, fire truck," and manages to escape. He stands in front of the fire truck, somehow managing to keep his hands to himself. I decide to let him look at it as I scan the rest of the aisle. Mistake number 7. Alright, alright, I can hear your head shaking at me. What two year old is able to resist the temptations of the toy aisle? None.

As you guessed, it's not long before Ian is taking the boxes off the shelves and I'm on clean up duty. He obviously is not listening to me, and I finally grab the cards out of the back of the cart and put a very sad Ian in. He begins sobbing. Quickly I look around to see if there's something I can get him to cheer him up. Small cars smile at me from nearby shelving and I reach for them.

But alas, I come to my senses. What was I doing? I was going to reward Ian with a toy for acting innappropriate. Forget that! I put both hands firmly on the cart and search for the needed presents. Fortunately, it's not long before I see a fun toy for the two year old.

With Ian still sobbing in the cart, we move on to another aisle. We walk towards two Target employees stacking merchandise. I swear they ran off as soon as they saw (or more likely heard) us coming. Oh well, I'm not pacifying my screaming toddler with a toy! I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE! We search three more aisles before I finally find a present for the five year old, Ian crying the entire time.

As I bend down to put the gift on the rack under the cart, I look at my little guy with his tear stained face. "Ian, we've found the birthday presents. We're ready to go bye-bye."

He calms down, sniffles and softly weeps, "Go bye-bye."

I pay for the presents, load the kids into the car and head home while thinking about what had just occurred. I made several mistakes that I will learn from (yeah, like next time leave the kids with their grandparents), but in the end I felt it wasn't a complete disaster. This was the first time Ian has thrown a tantrum in public. Despite his pulling on my heartstrings and the stares I'm sure we were receiving, I did not cave and reward Ian's unacceptable behavior.

And what of Laurel, you may ask? She was good as gold, she fell asleep sitting/laying in the top part of the shopping cart.



Pictures of Ian at the parties. He actually got to play trucks with Elmo!

Breastfeeding Benefits

Yet another reason to breastfeed and be proud of it.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/14154841/

Hi, I'm Tina and You Are...?

Ian and I have been going to Tot Classes ever since he was 8 months old. I wanted him to be around other kids his age. I wanted to learn some fun things to do with him at home. I selfishly wanted to meet other moms (dads too, but let's face it, it's usually moms at the classes). I think back to all the classes we've been to, and I can remember quite a few of the children and their names, but as for the mothers and fathers, well...

Ian was invited to a fellow toddler's birthday party. We received the invitation at a Tot Class a week ago. We've actually been in a similar class with this child and mother before. Obviously we knew them well enough to be invited to the child's second birthday party (or so I thought). I got out the invitation to call and say we were going, but alas, I didn't know the mother's name. I knew her son's name (Sam), why didn't I know her name? Did I forget it? I didn't think so. I racked my brain, trying desperately to remember if we introduced ourselves and what her name might be. No luck, I couldn't remember any such event.

Instead of making an awkward phone call, I decided to discuss the party with her at the Tot Class. I thought I would just apologize about not remembering her name and reintroduce myself. As luck would have it, she and her son didn't make it to class. (He probably caught the cold Ian seems to get every other time we go to class.)

What to do, what to do. I remembered that the woman gave an invitation to another mommy in the class. At least she was there, I could ask her what the woman's name was. Sheepishly, I went up to the woman, introduced myself (because now I'm not taking any chances with names), found out her name, and asked her if she could tell me the name of Sam's mom. Of course she couldn't, we only introduce ourselves as our child's mommy.

Great, now I had to make that dreaded phone call and say, "Hi, my name is Tina, I'm Ian's mom. We're excited about coming to Sam's birthday party. By the way, what's your name?"

Why is it when we go to such classes, we introduce ourselves as, "Hi, I'm so-and-so's mommy?" We have names, we're important too. This must change. The kids are usually wearing name tags, maybe the adults should wear them too. We sing a welcome song using each kid's name, maybe we need to do this for the adults too. Alright, I realize the song idea is a bad one since it would take forever, and the kids would start to squirm or run about with pent up energy, but something needs to change.

I am taking an oath as of right now. Everybody join in: "I, Tina (please insert your own name, after all, that's the whole point), do solemnly swear to introduce myself, by my own name, to other parents at Tot Classes, future soccer games, cub scouts, dance class, and any other event that involves hyperactive kids and tired adults."

Just What the Doctor Ordered

Phew, I'm tired, I'm beat. The day started at 4:30 and it hasn't stopped. I changed diapers, fed/nursed kids, cleared dishes, started laundry, changed diapers, played, read books, wiped tears, kissed boo-boos, changed diapers, painted, cleaned off painted hands and nose and chin and cheeks and anything else the smock didn't cover, changed diapers, fed/nursed the kids again, cleared dishes, wiped up spilt water (at least it was only water), changed diapers, and finally collapsed with Laurel on the couch while Ian gladly trotted off to play with his trucks. You know, just an ordinary day for a SAHM or other day care provider.

I've felt like mommy road-kill before, but at that moment, well...I felt like I had been so squashed into the ground that the only recognizable thing about me was my wedding band.

As I sat on the couch pondering how I would find enough energy to get through the rest of the day, a very excited and happy Laurel "jumped" on my legs facing me. She looked directly into my eyes wearing an elated smile and grabbed both sides of my face with her dripping wet hands. What can I say, we lost the battle with the binky and her fingers won. She then pulled herself closer to my face, her mouth wide open, and landed a big, dripping wet kiss on my chin. I pulled her away and told her she's very sweet, to which she did it again, but on my cheek this time. There was a river of drool covering my face, to which I say...


Look out world, here I come!

Got Phone, Will Talk

Telemarketers beware! I have a toddler, and I'm not afraid to use him!

All too frequently, our little family is sitting at the dinner table when the phone rings. Thanks to caller ID, we know it's some charity driven group, or worse yet, it's evil telemarketing scum (although we should NOT be receiving the latter since we signed up on the national do not call registry). My apologies to anyone I've offended, I just find strangers trying to get something from me via phone very annoying.

I'm busy trying to get a load of laundry done, again the phone rings and it's a charity drive. What to do, what to do. Answer it? NO! Let them leave yet another hang up on the answering system? NO!

Solution: give Ian the phone.



With phone in hand, I quickly run to where Ian's playing.

Me: Ian, talk on the phone, ok?

Ian: Ok, mommy.

I press TALK, set it to speaker phone so both Ian and I can hear the other person, and hand it over to a very excited little guy.

Ian: Hiiiiiiiiiii (in sweet sing-song style).

Evil telemarketing scum: Hi, is your mom there?

Ian: Hiiiiiiiiiii.

Evil telemarketing scum: Can you get your mommy?

Ian: Hiiiiiiiiiii. Giggle, giggle.

Evil telemarketing scum: Where's your mommy? Go get your mommy, ok? (Alright, so this woman is being very sweet in how she talks with Ian, and maybe she's not all that evil. Still, this is cracking me up and decide to let Ian have some fun.)

Ian: Ok. Hiiiiiiiiii.

Sweet telemarketing scum: Hi. Give the phone to your mommy, ok?

Ian: Ok. Giggle, giggle. (This boy is in heaven. I think he's not being as talkative as he could be, so I give him a topic.)

Me: (Whispering, so as not to be heard.) Tell her about the garbage truck.

Ian: Garbage truck coming, trash barrel upside down.

Sweet telemarketing scum: Umm, go get your mommy ok?

Amazed that the sweet telemarketing scum hasn't hung up yet, I decide to go around the corner and throw some laundry into the washing machine.

Ian: Black trash barrel upside down.

Sweet telemarketing scum: You need to give the phone to your mommy. Go find your mommy, ok?

Ian: Ok. Garbage truck coming today, black trash barrel upside down.

Sweet telemarketing scum: Hi. What are you doing?

Ian: Trash into hopper.

Sweet telemarketing scum: Are you playing with the phone?

Ian: Phone.

Sweet telemarketing scum: You need to give the phone to your mommy. Ok?

Ian: Ok.

Sweet telemarketing scum: I'm going to go. Give the phone to your mommy, ok?

Ian: Ok, hiiiiiiiiii.

Sweet telemarketing scum: Ok, give the phone to your mommy. I'm going to go, bye.

Ian: Hiiiiiiiiii.

Click.

Ian: Hiiiiiiiiii.

Poor guy, he thought he had found a friend. This conversation ended way too soon in his opinion. As for me, I had a great laugh and managed to start a load of laundry. I will definitely give Ian the phone from now on whenever someone annoying calls our house.

Boob, A Baby's Breast Friend

Breastfeeding on the SERIOUS side:

Is it possible? Do I really live in this country? We are so full of ourselves it is unbelievable, because you know, we really do have ALL the answers. And one thing is for sure, breasts are SINFUL!

Just the other day, my husband and I were commenting on how sweet we thought the cover of BabyTalk was, and then we came across and read Eyeful of Breastfeeding-Mom Sparks Outrage. People, including breastfeeding mothers, are actually up in arms over the picture.

We really do need to get over our squeamishness about the human body. It's a breast, it has a WHOLESOME purpose of providing nutrition to babies. Nutrition, that baby formula companies try to replicate.

I breastfeed. I breastfed Ian until he was 12 months, and I'm currently breastfeeding my six month old daughter Laurel. What really outrages me, is I'm too aware of how the public feels about this topic, and so I feed my baby discreetly. I just don't want to deal with backwards peoples' stares or them coming up to me snarling, "That's disgusting."

Unfortunately, growing up a guilt-ridden Catholic, I'm also very modest and worry what others might think about my actions. I just can't get past those facts. Close friends and immediate family members have seen me breastfeed, but only because I know they won't pass judgement. As for the rest of the world, I'm just not ready. I applaud the women that are past their and other peoples' inhibitions and can breastfeed out in the open.

One day, walking around Costco, I noticed a mother breastfeeding her child. I couldn't help but stare. It wasn't that I found it disgusting, it was the fact that she was WALKING around the store nursing her infant. This was truly amazing! Me, I have to get perfectly situated in a chair, with a Boppy or a My Brest Friend pillow no less, before I let Laurel at it. But this wonderful mother was making the most of her time. Infants feed pretty much around the clock. She found a way to multitask. Shopping and breastfeeding at the same time, the ultimate multitasking if you ask me! No slinking off to a dressing room, corner of the store, or worse yet, the bathroom, ick. She was out there, getting things done, not caring what the world thought. I don't know her name, I will probably never see her again, and yet she is my heroine.

I haven't given up on myself. I still hopefully have another six months to "expose" myself to the public, but alas, I just don't think it will happen. A few of my big hopes are that my daughter will be able to breastfeed where ever she needs without worrying about other's thoughts, and that the U.S. will finally educate itself (hello, third world countries are smarter than we are in this matter) and realize a breast has a purpose beyond sex. Don't we have more important issues to get outraged about?


Breastfeeding on the lighter side:

Ian is a keen observer. He is also very curious. When I nurse Laurel, he is right there, checking it out. He doesn't want to miss out on something good. Often he looks like he might jump right in and partake, but then he giggles and runs off.

One day, I heard Laurel cooing and laughing with glee. I peeked around the corner and saw Ian practically laying on top of her head. He was holding his shirt up with one hand and was placing his nipple over her face. I had to ask, "Ian, what are you doing?"

"Mommy, Laurel wants milk."

But of course, perfect sense.

Ok, breastfeeding critics, even my two year old knows what's natural and necessary.

Sit Down Comedienne

Umm, excuse me...





I'd like to share a story. You see, there was this baby, toddler and preschooler at the sandbox...







...and then the baby spits out her binky, gives the evil eye to the toddler and preschooler, and says, "THBPBPTHPT!"










Ha, ha, ha, hee, hee, hee.

That one always cracks me up!










True story, honest. What, you don't believe me? Well just ask the baby, she'll tell you it word for word.

Thunder Storm

Last night, we finally had an honest to goodness thunder storm. I can't remember the last time that happened. I lay in bed watching streaks of lightning peek between the slats of closed blinds. I should have opened them to watch the show, but was too tired. Thunder rumbled softly for a while as the storm approached. Then it was over us. Buckets and buckets of rain, lightning, thunder so close it shook the house.

I kept wishing for Ian to wake up and come running into our room. I wanted to snuggle up with him and share this rare event. Paul was downstairs working late, so I decided to peek in Ian's room to see if the storm woke him. No such luck, he was sleeping soundly. For a brief moment, I thought about waking him up, and then remembered the cardinal rule: If the baby's happy and calm, let him/her be. Darn it! I went back to bed and laid down listening to nature's music, quickly surrendering to sleep.

Puzzled

Unbelievable...my 26 month old son is doing 24 piece jigsaw puzzles.

I have some boxes of puzzles for when my five and eight year old nieces come over for a visit. Ian somehow found them, and of course dragged out the one with a picture of Cookie Monster and Elmo on it. He opened the box and delighted as pieces of his heroes fell all over the floor. I decided this was a great opportunity for some one-on-one time with him and helped him piece it together. He was so excited to find that all those pieces came together and made his furry blue and red friends.

Now, the boy is obsessed! Frequently throughout the day, I find Ian working on a puzzle. It is amazing how quickly he is able to put it together. When I watch him complete a puzzle, he likes to tease me and start singing the Clean Up Song while lifting up an edge or corner piece, like he's going to put it away. I'll join in and start singing the song along with him and he'll giggle and state, "No Mommy, no," and puts the piece back in its place.

True to toddler form, Ian loves to do the same puzzle over and over again. This has definitely helped him learn how the pieces fit together. He could probably do a few of the puzzles with his eyes closed. I'm exaggerating, but not by much. I once watched him complete, take apart, and reassemble his Cookie Monster and Elmo puzzle four times in a row before trying a different one.






So question is, does this take the place of his garbage truck obsession? No way! When he hears the garbage truck coming down the street, he drops whatever puzzle piece is in his hand, runs as fast as his not-so-little leggies will carry him to the front window, and excitedly screams, "Garbage truck, garbage truck coming!" Imagine how crazy he would become if I found him a garbage truck puzzle!

The Big Pay-Off

Paul and I are doing our best to make sure Ian is exposed to different foods. As all parents are aware, cake is more than acceptable to a hungry toddler. Cookies, ice cream and french fries, ditto. Brussel sprouts, well, umm...you have to draw the line somewhere, right?

Different articles state it takes several attempts, perhaps around 15 times, before a baby/toddler gets used to a new food. Armed with this information, Paul and I face each meal with determination. No matter how often Ian refuses to eat a particular fruit or vegetable, protein, or other food group, we continue to put it on his plate.

Another frustration we are aware of, is the fact that a toddler will refuse to eat favorite foods on a whim. This does not mean he suddenly dislikes it, just that he wants to exercise his power to say no. After all, toddlers thrive thinking they have control. We can't force Ian to eat, but by golly we can continue to put those foods in front of him. The idea behind this is to let him think it's his choice to eat those vegetables.

Persistence is key. Articles claiming it takes about 15 times to acquire a new taste, are understating it ten fold for flavors along the lines of say brussel sprouts and broccoli. Those are some strong flavors to get used to! Be that as it may, we continue to put those lovely greens before our charming little fellow. And guess what, he's come around to liking some of them. Look at the picture carefully and you'll notice Ian happily eating broccoli. There are even floret fragments on his chin to prove it! Trust me, this didn't happen overnight. It didn't even happen within a month. He's probably seen broccoli at least 20 times before even trying the stuff, quickly spitting it out with a declarative, "BLAH!"

At that point, he was at least willing to keep trying broccoli, although for a long time it kept being spit out. Eventually he started swallowing the horrid, ahem, I mean wonderful stuff. He even eats the left overs while still cold. Crazy I tell you, and I'm loving it!

Today, Ian's eating broccoli and tomatoes. Tomorrow he may eat red peppers. As for lima beans, we've got a long way to go, but we keep trying. Poor Ian, he's going to have a lot of beans staring him square in the face during dinner.

Catch Up

Hard to believe, but it's been a month since I last posted. YIKES!

Let's see... what have we been up to?

We took a road trip to northern Arizona to see not one, but two Great-Grandmas! Add to that two Great-Aunts, two Great-Uncles, three second cousins, and a Great-Grandpa. There's just a whole lot of family going on up there. Laurel and Ian are very lucky to have an abundance of family nearby.

Right before we left for the road trip, our computer died. I was trying to make a collection of pictures of the kids to print and take up to the grandparents. In the middle of editing a picture, the hard drive took a turn for the worse. We had not backed up last month's pictures and were worried they were lost for good. Paul is a genius and managed to recover them all and fix the computer.

Paul and I celebrated our third anniversary. Thanks to our gracious parents babysitting the kids, we went out for a very stereotypical dinner and a movie date. LOVED IT! We saw Superman Returns, a very fun movie in my opinion, and ate at Cheesecake Factory, super yummy.

We spent the Fourth of July at my parents, along with the very energetic cousins Miss Allison and Miss Madison, and their not so energetic dad. The girls definitely know how to get Ian excited and bouncing off the walls. We stood out on the street and were able to watch not one mind you, but three firework shows! BANG!

Lucky Ian got to see the dentist. In the past, Ian has screamed bloody murder the minute he has to lay down for the checkup. I thought I would help the poor little guy get mentally ready by talking to him days ahead of time of what to expect. We even role played the visit. Pretending to be the dentist, I would tell Ian to open wide and then I'd count his teeth while I brushed each one. He was cooperative and seemed ready for the real thing. Confidently we went to our appointment, Ian talking about the dentist on the drive over. The second I laid Ian down in the big chair, I could tell he was not ok with the proceedings, whimpers and sobs were heard throughout the exam. At least he didn't scream this time, a huge improvement in my mind.

A couple unpleasant events occurred this last month. Our air conditioner went out on a Friday night. The soonest we could get someone to take a look was Monday. We quickly packed for the weekend and headed to a cheap motel, big mistake. The room we started out in was having cooling problems itself. Ugh. We packed everything back up (which of course is an easy thing to do with gear for a toddler and a baby) and headed to another room. At least it had a working AC unit. Monday morning, we left the kids with grandparents, Paul headed off to work, and I waited in a sweltering house while the technician determined we needed to replace the compressor, ouch. Of course, he wouldn't be able to pick up the parts until the following morning, double ouch. Tuesday, I lounged in a 97 degree house while the guy worked in 110 degree heat for seven hours. Thankfully, we have cool air again.

We also have had swimming pool trouble. We feared there was an underground leak in the pipes leading back to the filter. The soonest we could get someone out for the repair was two weeks later. Despite us manually trying to scour and skim, the pool was slowly getting dirtier and dirtier and turning green from algae. To our relief, the leak was above ground and did not involve jackhammering the deck.

Currently, both Ian and Laurel have colds. It seems every time Ian and I go to a toddler class, he comes back with another cold to share with Laurel. At least their immune systems are getting a workout.

I think that catches us up. Hopefully, I'll be able to find time to keep a little more current.