Sadness!

This here is a real travesty. Tomorrow morning I was supposed to go with a friend and her beauty baby to check out the new DVF line at GapKids. I was ready to throw down to get my kid some uber trendy graphic tees. I've been to the Barneys Warehouse Sale. I know what's up. Only I clearly don't because I just realized right this minute that the DVF line is girls only. Sorry little dudes. And moms of little dudes. Boo! Don't we deserve some fun designer fashions on the cheap too?

Perhaps my son could pull off a wrap dress. There was a little girl wearing a full-on mermaid costume at the playground yesterday. What's a little feminine styling going to hurt? The boy's got great legs! Should I still go or will the pain be more than I can bear?

Wow

I just read this story and am far more baffled by all the comments on Babycenter (of all places) that seem to be anti-child, or at least anti-child flying. As a firm believer in the power of travel and exploration to shape a child's mind, the idea of not flying with my son is completely anathema to me. Obviously, I can understand the pilot's need to maintain safety on the plane and perhaps that really was the issue here, though it did sound as though the parents managed to get their daughter strapped in prior to being kicked off.

Given that we are flying across the country again in a few weeks, I better start stockpiling my bag of tricks now. One suggestion from a commenter that I liked was carrying a couple of small gift cards (maybe $5 or $10 at Starbucks) or earplugs for your nearest neighbors in case the crying (or your child's go-to annoyance) gets out of hand. All I can say is hooray for the iphone and ipad so I don't lose my voice from the constant reading. Apparently books are just better when they are read 5 or 30 times in a row.

Who me? Shriek on a plane? Never!

A taste of the madness

They were already there, promise.

David Bowie?

• Strangers should compliment each other more. A woman in a restaurant yesterday told me she loved my coat, remarking that I "looked great in red." Made my morning.

• Peter Dinklage is rad.

• Today I overheard three men in their twenties (total Mission hipsters) wax poetically about their childhood dogs for a good ten minutes, complete with reenactments and wistful looks. It might have been the cutest thing EVER. Tony is one of the best gifts we could give our family.
  

• I know it makes me a total weirdo, but I really enjoy writing thank you notes. It gives me a small, perfect sense of accomplishment.

• Yesterday afternoon I let people in front of me while driving every time I had the chance. Feels pretty good not to always be rushing. One guy stuck his hand out his window and gave me a big old thumbs up. Nice.

• To Keratin treatment or not?

• Getting a book on a friend of a friend's recommendation and realizing that it's an erotica novel is hilarious. And yet I can't stop reading. Also, did you know that S&M is now called BDSM? An erotic and educational novel.

• Pinterest, stop sucking up all my damn time.

• My child has a terrifying fascination with curbs, stairs, and generally anything with a high probability of leading to pain. I'm definitely scared for his ski season to start.

• New Girl, you are pretty funny.

• Why does everyone complain about infancy when toddlerhood is SO. MUCH. HARDER?

• Between the bubbles, the somersaults and the balance beam, I'm pretty sure my active, exuberant and altogether impassioned (we're working on our euphemisms here) son had the best 45 minutes of his life this morning at gym class.

Flipping out

So yesterday, after being home for one day and cleaning the floor about 46 times, I decided to finally (finally!) buy a floor mat. You win, Mr. Monk, you win. I guess you are right, the food does belong on the floor and not in the mouth. His new favorite trick is to wipe every single bit of food off his tray when he decides he's had enough. Usually that's after two bites and I stupidly clean up the mess and put more on his tray. And, the fun begins anew. Can you guess who cries first? At least the mat is pretty cute and not truck-patterned. We are on truck overload up in here.

This morning I accomplished something I would have thought impossible. I almost didn't even try because I felt it so foolish a task. But, try I did and now the boy has eaten kale! Kale! That's like a guarantee that he's going to be in the Olympics. I chopped it rather finely and threw it in with some eggs and my child ate it all and asked for more (muh, muh). Pretty sneaky, eh? Just call me Jessica Seinfeld. Then again, this is the same kid who loves our "special" juice and hates anything with sugar. I'm not even sure he's mine.

The wonders continued at spin class where I didn't pass out (though it got a little iffy at one point) and I totally fished my wish for some Michael Jackson. After a slammin' soundtrack featuring Madonna, JT, Rihanna, Cindy Lauper, Jay Z, I started jonesing for some Thriller action. And...boom, Beat It was the last song. So, what should I use my powers for now?

Speaking of special powers, I cannot stop reading "The Hunger Games" trilogy. I plowed through the first two books and am now rounding 50% on the third. I feel like I'm 15 again when I couldn't put my Kurt Vonnegut books down. Maybe I am a secret sci-fi nerd after all. Have you read them?

Things I learned while vacationing with a toddler

1. Always bring more snacks than you think you'll need.

2. Don't tell a mom who is struggling to corral her wild child, "wow, he must be a handful, eh?"

3. Disposable swim diapers are your new best friend. Cleaning poop out of swimsuits, even ones with built-in diapers, is not a good look!

4. Sometimes it's ok to let your kid play with the toilet paper roll in airplane/airport bathrooms.

5. Chilling at the beach while your son takes a two-hour plus nap in his stroller is a lot less fun when you realize he's completely peed all over his stroller.

6. If your child pees through his swimsuit all over his stroller one afternoon, you shouldn't be that surprised when it happens again the very next day.

7. Watching your kid chase around cats, screaming "at, at" while trying to feed them maraschino cherries is as good as it gets.

8. Pina coladas make the world happy.

9. Don't start reading "The Hunger Games" unless you've got a spare 5-10 hours in which to be sucked into a vortex where you will unable to carry on a conversation, go to the bathroom, look up.

10. Sand, while awesome, is also seriously annoying to clean off little boys' bodies.

11. Random people are very sympathetic once your toddler throws up on you mid-flight. Your husband, on the other hand, will repeatedly tell you that you smell.

12. The food that your child adores at home for some reason becomes disgusting and inedible in another country.

13. Some people really love seeing babies walk up and down the aisle on planes. Some really don't.

14. Grandparents are magical people for both children and parents alike.

15. Watching your kid walk for the first time in front of his great-grandma, grandma and great grand uncles is better than fireworks.

16. Doing shots on new years is always a bad idea.

17. The confused look on your kid's face when he wakes up in a fourth location in two weeks is seriously adorable and maybe a little sad.

18. There is always going to be someone skinnier than you on the beach. But, the odds are pretty good that there is someone fatter too.

19. Hypochondria is contagious.

20. It's best not to argue with your 96 year-old grandma when she says your son is a "cockeyed genius" just because he can find everyone's belly button.

Evolution hard at work

Three minutes later and this horsey was dead to him

Ever have to go digging through a diaper pail to find a missing shoe? I don't recommend it, unless the missing shoe happens to be the mate of the only pair that are just tight enough to prevent your child from kicking them off the minute you leave your house. Of course, if you do find yourself diaper digging, be sure to keep your eyes open for missing wood pegs, bath squirters and other assorted objects that have mysteriously disappeared in recent days. And hold your breath!

Yesterday, I managed to find a sock and stacking ring buried in the plant watering can. And, about a minute ago I opened the garbage to find his brand-new (well, used, but new to him) crocs sitting on top. This kid, as my grandma would say, is quite a character. I wonder how much of his stuff I inadvertently throw out on a daily basis. Sometimes I feel like we are playing a game and I misplaced the instruction manual-maybe he flushed it down the toilet before we smartened up and got the strangely complex lock that now has me tinkling my pants a tiny bit every time I'm rushing to the bathroom.

I know one day soon when they are replaced by actual words I will miss his frenetic pointing and grunting, DARE, DARE!! There? Where?? The second I finally figure out one food that he seems to like and stock up on it, he flat out refuses to even taste it anymore. His friend's toys that he wouldn't put down just aren't as cool once they are in the confines of our house. Sometimes the car seat is a haven of security that immediately brings sweet slumber and snorty breathing, and sometimes it is so infuriating, so horrific that even the thought of being strapped in necessitates shrieking, full body thrusts and a stiff pelvis that is impossible to manipulate. Diaper changes have become an all hands on deck situation, as we never know if it'll be a poop smearing kind of a day. One minute I'll look at him and he seems such the big boy, about to ride a bike down the street and away from me; the next he's poking at my belly button and looking at me with his sweet baby smile. The only predictable thing about my child lately is that he is constantly changing.

Wash and fold

This week Mr. Monk is scheduled for a swim class, gym class and two library story time hours! My babe is going to be one social butterfly. Speaking of socializing (and potentially inappropriate behavior), he's actually developed this new incredibly adorable habit of lifting up people's shirts to see their tummies and then hugging them. What can I say? He's a sucker for belly buttons. Or maybe he's just checking to see if anyone else is an outie like him. So far most people think it's sweet. Hopefully, he drops this approach by high school.

Our little imp has also had the great fortune of visiting the indoor playground, aka the laundromat, twice this week! Sights. Sounds. Hipsters. The laundromat has it all, folks. We're doing a little (but seemingly endless) construction project on our house and didn't completely think through the whole being-without-a-washer/dryer-for-multiple-months thing. With a toddler who stains outfits before he even puts them on. Somehow I have managed to convince the babe that laundromats are awesome. He likes pushing the metal carts, and maybe taking a spin or two inside them. I'm not sure I've ever used a laundromat before, as most of the places that I've lived in had laundry in the building. In NYC, when there weren't machines in the building, it was far easier and usually cheaper to have my laundry done for me. Picking up those folded bundles was an awesome feeling, even if they ruined all my towels. I always expected them to be fairly depressing, but our local laundromats are clean and cheery. I'm making the rounds. At least our water bill should be sufficiently lower this month, though I may need to see a chiropractor after lugging around three loads of laundry plus a baby.

This evening I took a bath (see aforementioned sore back) and steamrolled through the rest of my book, The Marriage Plot, by Jeffrey Eugenides. One thing I hate about the kindle is not knowing how many pages I have left. Even after three years, I still can't think of books in percentages. The book explores life post-college for three Brown grads involved in a love triangle. At first it seemed both superficial in theme and heavily laden with obscure references, but it had a slow burn (and I let myself gloss over some of the references...shhh). Around 30-40% through (whatever that means), I started to enjoy it and became attached to the characters. Overall, it was worth the read, though I never fell in love with the story as I did with the author's previous book, Middlesex. But still, uninterrupted bath reading time was pretty special!

Just wondering...

Why is it that when I blow dry my hair it looks nothing like when the professionals do it? Does it really require a special degree? I even shelled out a bunch o money for a good hairdryer and yet it's still big on the sides and erratically wavy in the back. Whatever happened to my hair getting thinner post-baby? I'm pretty sure I'm part lion these days.

When does teething end? We had a three day break in between teething episodes. It was glorious-the child was happy, sweet, cuddly and (relatively) calm. And now we're back to this year's regularly-scheduled programming. How many teeth does one kid need? They are just going to fall out anyway. Can't we just stick with 8?

How did I not think through the fact that taking my son to a swim class meant that I had to be in a bathing suit too? Maybe I need to take my own lesson on getting my sexy back. And, note to self, bathing suits that fit last summer when I was still nursing are a tad stretched out and loose in one particular area. Definitely not my best look.

Who is this woman going out three nights in a row without her husband or her son? Party time! Granted, going "out" in my world means staying out past 9 pm, but still...I feel like a girl of 32 again.

Where can I buy baby patches for my Mr. Monk's pants? He's still not hip to the whole bipedal thing we humans do and his extreme crawling is wearing holes in the knees of all his bottoms. On the plus side, we're thinking of entering him in some crawling races, as his technique and speed are quite impressive.

Mommy, look what I've got!

After wedging himself beneath and between his parents' airline seats for five hours, spilling almost a full bottle of whole milk down his shirt, sitting in a pellet poop-filled diaper for most of said plane ride because every time his mama looked down the back of the diaper she didn't see any poop even though she could have sworn that she smelled it and should have just changed the damn diaper...my baby loved himself some bath time and discovered his new best friend down there. Every few seconds he would check to make sure it was still attached. And so it begins.

Definitely wearing sunscreen

I'm just going to go ahead and say that I fear I've gone too soft to live in the NYC anymore. At least with a toddler tearing ass all over town. Yesterday we went to a local playground and after he spent ten minutes crawling through puddles, over rocks and in dirt mounds, he started to lick his hands. I'm not usually a germaphobe (the five second rule has elapsed into a 50 second rule in our world), but even I freaked about that. At least he managed to keep his hands and his tongue to himself as we rode the subway.

After visiting with three couple friends of ours with kids in the past two days and spending this morning immersed in this awesome manic mecca, I am starting to get how much confidence (craziness?) it takes to raise a baby in a city as dense and intense as New York. Some of our friends live in one bedrooms and have completely given over the bedroom to the baby for the sake of wakeless nights. Their clutter was making me anxious and overwhelmingly appreciative of our washer/dryer.

Then again, the constant frenetic pace does have its benefits. Since I haven't touched any of the work out gear that I laughingly toted along, it's fun in a masochistic way to test my She-Ra power lugging the baby, plus stroller, plus (slightly less gigantic than in previous infant stages but still relatively large) bag of crap up the multiple flights of stairs that exist in every single building. Why is nothing ever on one level in this city and how did I never notice that before? Being here makes me realize once again that San Francisco, particularly the little corner of the 7x7 that we occupy, is hardly a city at all.

Despite all the difficulties, I can't help but think how cool it would be to grow up right on these crowded blocks. These kids are exposed to so much just walking out the front door. Art, music, speech and all other forms of creative expression are in your face here-you practically have to go out of your way to avoid them. Literally, I have been crossing streets to avoid the big crowds around street performers and various occupiers. Speaking of kids + art, tomorrow I think I may take Mr. Monk here. Why not let him explore his inner Picasso, especially when someone else is on clean up duty. Or maybe the mister and I will leave the babe with his grammy and go have ourselves some museum fun.

The ground, pre washing by Mr. Monk's tongue

He's got places to be and people to see...


Lights!

Clearly the most awesome toy in the whole museum was mommy's purse

Ready for greatness

Tomorrow we leave for an almost two week trip to the east coast. Atlanta-New York-Maryland to see some friends get married, visit some newly hatched babes, reunite with beloved family members and GO OUT IN NYC WITHOUT HAVING TO WORRY ABOUT NURSING. Hip, hip hooray for built-in family babysitters. As much as I enjoy living in San Francisco, the thought of being nearer to family and close friends is a delightful one. I miss my people.

My husband and I each chose to get Mexican for our respective lunches today because we knew we'd crave it while away. This is love, people.

While playing in the playground sandbox yesterday, Mr. Monk was digging away at the world's problems with his shovel and uncovered a treasure trove of cat poop. Apparently, my son's personal nirvana is just one giant kitty litter after dark. I scooped out what I could, got my baby the hell out of there and alerted all the other nannies/moms about the contamination. Most agreed that it was pretty gross, shrugged, and went back to gossiping while their kids continue to pour the sand down their pants, in their mouths, and in each others hair.

Speaking of hair, today was the first time I had my hair professionally colored in almost two years. Holy moly, so that's what it should look like. The greys were staging a mutiny. And now they are dead. For 6-8 weeks.

So...flying across country with a 13 month old that can't seem to sit still/be held/keep quiet for more than 45 seconds? Thinking this might be the trip that we order drinks for all our seat neighbors.

Many, many thanks to Irene from I'm a Silly Mami and Roxanne from Not Winning Mom of the Year for my Liebster Awards. Just knowing that my musings and rantings amused you both is reward enough. But, feel free to send chocolates too. Seriously, the blog community is so supportive and welcoming that it's almost therapeutic to be a part of it. And it's free! One of these days I'll get around to posting some of my faves too--procrastination is my strong suit (as evidenced by the fact that it's almost 11 and I haven't even packed)!

Who needs a playground filled with cat poop when you have a laundromat with its own coffee shop?

Just look at that grin

We're in for it now, eh?

'Tis better to have loved...

This morning at the dog park, I was chatting with a woman who had the most amazing Southern drawl. You don't hear that too often 'round these parts. Her sweet pup was a 12 year old Golden named Hugh (don't you just love inappropriate pet names?). As we were talking about the dog's health and well being at his advanced age, she started to well up and nearly broke down into a full on cry. I too got emotional sharing about how worried I am for Mr. Monk to grow up with Tony only to lose him right around when he hits puberty. I remember when my first childhood dog, Erica, died and my dad buried her in our yard, with a big stone on top so we'd always know where to find her.

Seeing how much joy the dog brings to him each and every day is amazing. The second Tony bounds into the room, Mr. Monk lights up and laughs. He gives him an awesome full body belly flop hug that he now uses as a way to greet every other dog he sees. Having a dog around teaches him so much about responsibility, family and what to do with food he no longer wishes to swallow. Their relationship is only going to deepen and grow and it is one of my favorite things to imagine about the baby's life.

In some ways it's comforting to know that he will learn about death at a young age. That might make it a little easier to process when being confronted with it again over the course of his long (exceptionally long, my grandma is 96 and kicking!) time here. As painful as it is, death is just about the only sure thing in life. Who am I kidding? It's going to be awful. We better have at least another good 10 years, Tony!

I can't shake this sense of loss. I had a very sad phone conversation earlier tonight. A good family friend is fighting a tragic battle with cancer. This poor girl is only 25 and has been suffering in pain for much of the last year. My heart aches for her and her family. I sort of just want to climb to the edge of a mountain and wail at the unfairness of it all. How can one even comprehend her own mortality at that age? She should be just starting her life of adventure. There is no sense to be made of this other than to be grateful for all that we have and all that we are. And all those doctor's appointments I've been neglecting to make? Scheduled.

Hug your loved ones a little tighter, stare at the stars a little longer and consider yourself a little luckier.

Off and running

Last night we had a mini dinner party with 2 other couples and their four boys (five boys age 5 and under-check, please!). Mr. Monk loved being with the big boys. So much so that today he took his first step! Our little baby is becoming a man. Soon we'll need a lasso. Though, really, could he possibly get any faster than he is now? His crawl is like lightning. Blink and he's across the room and out the doggie door. He's less of a baby each and every day. Where is Evie Garland and her magic fingers when I need her?

While walking Tony when we got home after our testosterone-fueled dinner, he took off running and dragged me behind him up to the middle of a steep hill, in between two street lights. In the pitch black darkness, I turned around to give him privacy to do his business. I was minding some business of my own, texting and whatnot, when I started to notice some little bits of brown running toward me. The dog's poop had broken apart into about eight pieces and started rolling down the hill. Tootsie rolls of shit were flying everywhere. As it was the neighborly thing to do (and I was afraid of ruining my new boots on the walk home), I ran around with my little iphone flashlight trying to pick them all up. The fun never, ever ends.

Today we went to the last of our playgroup baby birthday parties. This one was a goodie--no less than three different kinds of baked goods and lots of candy. I kept throwing the wrappers away after every bite so I couldn't keep track of what I ate. And then I remembered that the dress I was planning to wear to a wedding this weekend barely fit me pre-pregnancy and I haven't tried it on since. What's another white chocolate covered oreo going to hurt? I'm finding the worst part of weaning to be the fact that I now have to actually exercise to burn calories. The fueling another life from your body and being able to eat whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you want? Magic. Maybe there is something to extended breastfeeding after all. Or maybe I should just drag my ass back to spinning.

Why yes, I'd love another piece of cookie...

Down the rabbit hole

Follow me...

Yesterday at music class I learned that the 18 month old twins in our class are fully potty trained. Like wearing no diapers potty trained. Whoa. I didn't know that was possible. Somehow I doubt we will be freaking other moms out with our peeing/pooping prowess in 6 months. Half the time I can hardly remember to change the baby's diaper. He's peed through 2 pairs of pants this week. And I'm the one who's supposed to teach him how to navigate through the maze of life?

Now that he's starting to understand (a bit) more, I'm realizing that I need to curb some of my less desirable behaviors. I am a modelizer after all. No more fucking cursing every third word. No more yelling in order to get my husband to give me what I want. No more feeding Tony from the table. Definitely no more going completely limp and then violently thrusting my pelvis when my mommy tries to put me in my carseat.

An old friend and her 3 year old son came over the other day. We were gabbing and gossiping like in our pre mom jeans days. I believe the subjects of divorce, sex, sleep, Thomas the Train and Ryan Gosling were covered in equal measure. The boys were playing nicely and rather quietly so as to let their mamas get their coffee talk on. All of the sudden I came to the creepy realization that toddlers shouldn't be quiet and what the hell were they up to? I ran through the house screaming and found both of them outside, halfway up the slate stairs, staring down a piece of dog poop. We were probably three seconds from a world of pain. Who's winning mom of the year? I let a 3 year old babysit my 1 year old. Awesome.

There is a boy in our playgroup who loves to give out hugs. Just doles 'em on out to babies and mamas alike. As the mother to a lovely little maniac who will only allow the briefest of snuggles, and these only when he's sick and/or scared, I'll take it. You'd think Mr. Monk would get jealous when he sees his mom getting some loving from another shortie dude, but he seems so relieved--finally, now she'll leave me to my climbing.

Biker dude

He's pretty unsure what to make of this contraption, but he did laugh more than he cried. Score. Visions of big wheels, tricycles and bmx's are racing through my head.

Ready to roll

As if I wasn't already excited about the new baby bike seat we got for Mr. Monk's birthday...now if only we could figure out how to attach it.

Secret To A Long, Healthy Life: Bike To The Store

by Nancy Shute
November 2, 2011


What would you say to a cheap, easy way to stay slim, one that would help avoid serious illness and early death? How about if it made your neighbors healthier, too? It could be as simple as biking to the store...





Hajime Ando/Flickr
Putting the shopping bags in the bike basket rather than in the car trunk could deliver big health benefits.

He's perfect(ish) to me

Now that my baby is a one-year old big boy, I suppose I should stop calling him "my baby." But, do they ever really stop being our babies? He still seems so tiny to call him a child and I am really not feeling "toddler" just yet. So, I guess he'll just have to stay a baby for a bit longer.

It's been really interesting to see how differently people treat Mr. Monk once he turned a year. Or, rather, I should say, how people treat me and my parenting. Invariably, the second question out of a person's mouth after age is, "Has he started walking yet?" I have heard that question no less than 30 times in the past week. Whoa, people, simmer down. I'm not sure why all of the sudden people expect him to be walking just because he's a week older than he was last week when no one asked if he was walking. This question is usually posed as he's crawling around the playground. If he were walking, you would see him walking, no? Every time, people then tell me about their son/daughter who didn't walk until he or she was 15-20 months. I don't really care about when he hits these milestones, as I know it doesn't really matter, but I'm not sure why anyone else does.

Speaking of other people caring and oversharing, some woman came up to me in the playground today as my mini was enjoying his few minutes of bliss in the spinning bucket seat. I was standing over him, pushing him round and round when an older lady ambled over and remarked, "Isn't he a little young for that kind of activity?" Aren't you a little old for this kind of activity is what I wanted to respond. Instead I just said that he really seems to love it. And, I'm right here watching my child, thank you very much, ma'am.

Later in the day, on one of our daily visits to Whole Foods (I wish I were kidding), Mr. Monk was again enjoying himself. This time, his revelry involved a bagel and a relatively loud rendition of his favorite song, "dadadada daddyyyyyy." As we were walking down the baby products aisle, an older woman got all up in his stroller and said, "Inside voice, please!" I had already been trying to tell him to be quiet in the store, but I wasn't exactly appreciative of this random busybody's reenforcement. He's 1, lady, give him a break! And, you have NO IDEA WHAT SCREAMING SOUNDS LIKE IF YOU THOUGHT THIS WAS BAD!

My beautiful, loud, manic crawling, bucket seat spinning enthusiast had himself a birthday party full of hootin' and hollerin' and we have the pictures to prove it!

Keep it simple, Stupid

Hay is...fun?

So, once in a while I will get it into my head that I am a super creative, crafty person. Those times include my wedding and my son's first birthday party, which is TOMORROW. Hello. Even though I wish I were one of those people who could whip out a garland and a souffle in 20 minutes, I'm more of an agonize over choosing the right one, make a million mistakes along the way, stress for twice as long as it takes me to make something wondering why I didn't just buy it, enjoy the fruits of my labor nonetheless kind of person. For my wedding I went pretty crazy coming up with all these ridiculous details that no one but my mother and my mother-in-law noticed.

Can I just tell you that I printed up pictures of EVERY. SINGLE. GUEST. and put them into table-coordinated picture cubes on the rehearsal dinner tables. Just thinking about that project gives me hives. It took months getting all the pictures of family members we hardly knew, our parents' neighbors, etc. My inspiration was the slideshow that you see at every wedding. I always feel honored when I'm included and a little sad when I'm not (self-centered much?) I thought it would be awesome if all the guests felt special and included. That night, people loved, raved, freaked over the cubes and most guests took photos as a souvenir. Now, if I asked 99% of our invitees about those sweet little picture cubes that gave me insomnia, I guarantee you they wouldn't have a clue what I was talking about. Nor should they, unless they are stalkers like me who remember bizarre minutiae about every wedding ever attended (can I unload that brain power please and refuel).

Yes, yes, the details should be for you not for others because no one ever cares as much as you do about your event. At least I am damn sure that Mr. Monk is not going to remember whatever happens tomorrow. But, I do kind of love trying to be crafty/thematic in a masochistic sort of way. I tend to go a little big whenever I host dinner parties, playgroup, book club, exterminators, though I've been reigning it in since having le bebe. My husband kept pleading with me to "keep it simple" for the party. And, I have, for the most part. A chocolate owl lollipop and an owl pinata filled with cheerios (and other assorted baby crack) never hurt anyone.

Time to party with my little!

Something's Gotta Give

This morning I took Mr. Monk for a blood test to celebrate his impending first birthday. We moms know how to party! Apparently, the doctor needs some stats so along came the needle. I was expecting some serious drama based on the little's recent theatrics (he's gone shrieking!) but, to my complete surprise, he did not make a peep! He stared at the nurse as she withdrew the blood with utter fascination. That boy filled up three vials and never even blinked. I'm thinking he's definitely going to be a doctor. Or a vampire.

As for his recent discovery that he can shatter glass with his voice, well, that's causing all sorts of reactions. We've tried the ignore it and pretend it's not happening response. That led to the "you're hurting our ears so please stop screaming" pleading. Then we went the screaming back route. Kidding. Sort of. This lovely phase started a few days ago. We're expecting it to pass in a few years.

At least when he's not screaming, he's doing lots of this: