Tuesday, September 30, 2008


Good Tuesday to you all!

I hope this blog finds everyone doing very well. Thanks for continuing to come back and read what we've been up to, as trivial as it may be at times. I am loving your comments too so keep 'em coming when you feel like it!

This morning I thought I'd try to post a couple of Grayson's songs. Below is a link to one and I hope it works. If not, I'll be back to try to fix it later.

He astounded me this morning over banana pancakes by singing ALL of his ABCs that he learned at preschool. We sing all the time in the house but I didn't realize he knew the entire song until just this morning. It sure is humbling to realize they absorb so much from other people and places in addition to what you try to teach them yourself. Anyway, take a listen and hopefully I can post some others soon.


Be back later,

Friday, September 26, 2008

A Day at the Park

When the hubby's on travel and the days are long, sometimes there's just nothing better to do than to take an afternoon trip to the park. We're so lucky to have a really great park complete w/pond that Sadie wades through within a stone's throw from our house. However, on this day "Grandma Nonie" (pictured below w/Sadie)and I drove b/c the wagon ride seemed like a hike through the Appalachians w/this ever-growing belly weighing me (us?) down.

Grayson was much more excited by the broken water fountain and Bocce Ball Court "sand" than by the slides and swings. He had a wonderful time playing w/his shadows and watching Sadie disappear into the cattails in the pond. It was a good day to have my camera.

(By the way, I'm feeling great, for those of you who've been concerned. No more repercussions from the hyperemesis that I can really notice and even the scars are fading. Doesn't mean I'm not tying up shop forever-more after this baby's born but even that I'm thinking about twice now. Wow, doesn't take very long for the amnesia to hit, does it? )

Friday, September 19, 2008

Advice Please

"I'm hungry and all my pants are too big."
I just realized you could put pics in the actual blog post. Rookie mistake I hope. I'll have to do that to save on the scrolling avenue of photos on our right...

Does anyone have any advice on a toddler who just isn't into eating? My son is either sneaking downstairs and making himself peanut butter sandwiches at night or he can quite literally survive off of pancakes (2 very little ones at that) at 7am, a few Goldfish crackers throughout the day, and about 15 oz. of apple juice/water/milk. He outright refuses much lunch, if any and almost never eats dinner. Granted, I really do suck as a cook but I've been keeping things super simple to try to appease a persnickity palate. I guess my next step is to cut back on the fluids to see if he's filling himself up that way but that just feels mean if he's not starving himself?

What say you, readers? Seriously, I'm asking even if you think it sounds obvious and even if you don't have children of your own. Anything goes.

Thanks in advance!

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Shopping Issues

For those of you who are shoppers, more power to you. Seriously, I've always envied people who can spend lots of time and lots of money on their appearance or their home's appearance but I've never been one of them. Shopping to me is like walking around a carnival without any real desire to ride the rides. All fun to look at but you don't really know what you're doing there after a few minutes.

I have been, however, a Target fanatic through and through b/c it is a "one stop" shopping mecca. You'e in and out in less than an hour and have plenty of time to play at the park or stop off at Quizno's (there will be forever more, until Dec. at least, a food theme here on this blog-be forewarned.) Perhaps this is what they mean by the "nesting instinct" but lately I've stayed awake too late at night w/the need and desire to find the perfect whatever. Granted, we have under three months to get ready for our next little minion to arrive but that's a sorry excuse for the number of times I've been in the stores or online looking and obsessing over material goods for this little baby number two. Today I went to Gymboree and spent 45 minutes picking out at least 20 little outfits with matching beanies, blankets, and socks. Matching beanies and blankets? This coming from a woman who can't tell you what goes with off-white. Ah well, there are worse things...at least all these items were 50% off and now baby Shriver won't freeze in mid-December.

Friday, September 12, 2008

Word Play for Tracy

September 12, 2008

a rainy day between summer and fall

falling short of summering at all

chalk on the driveway

crumbs on the floor

why doesn't the maid pick up anymore?

baby's running out of space at

-L'Hotel Economie.

was there ever a time for

Victoria's Secrecy?

toddler's sleeping now

for an hour or four

mom's baking brownies -

what calorie war?

Husband's attending

a "Hail and Farewell"

wife's attending

a potty training

(not going so well).

rainbow scrawlings on the table,

juice droppings galore,

polka dotting our carpets, our walls,

and our floor.

Today is a day inside, not out

I'd give nothing to change it

although I may shout,

(cry, bargain, beg, hide far away)

This is our living,

This is today.

Monday, September 8, 2008


Lately I've been researching moonbounces for Grayson's 2nd b-day. Just last night I ran across a rental place that advertises one in particular that is "for all ages." Could this be right? Am I thinking wistfully and selfishly? Could this moonbounce really hold all one hundred and...you can guess the rest...pounds of me plus another 30 or so for the birthday boy? What about the other party guests? Will it collapse in on itself like a bad comedy if we all jump in there like pathetic older kids whose parents aren't looking? I cannot even imagine such a specimen...until....

Today Grayson and I went to a place called, "Bouncetown." I had been hyping this place up since I decided we'd go there last night so Grayson and Mom were equally excited about the prospect of a place where running, jumping, and bouncing to our heart's delight is not only allowed but encouraged! So we pull up one hour before close (I'm excited, not crazy-it was close to his nap time) After an impromptu meltdown (one could ask, "aren't they all impromptu?" to which I would reply "no because there are definite times a young one has sent many signals of distress that the meltdown is imminent but not yet decided upon.") This one was different- and it was all Kellogg's fault. If they didn't make such delicious Nutri-Grain bars we would've glided right into the property without a second glance. And I'll take the other half of the blame for pulling the Mom Card at the wrong time. There I was, not wanting to make a bad impression on the Bouncetown staff (b/c we're all joining a Book Club together? having late tea? becoming pen pals? don't ask me, it's a thing about the "public personae" I'd have to guess.) I told Grayson he couldn't bring his beloved Apple Nutri-Grain bar with him into the building. I may as well have unzipped my son from himself because this unexpected announcement caused him to become 100% unglued. In the parking lot. In front of the huge bay windows where all the parents sat. Thank goodness for those windows in retrospect as they were my only shot at distraction. A few stolen peeks at other toddlers galavanting around and Grayson was mute with awe and renewed expectation. So we check in, pay our 8 dollars, put our shoes in those cute little cubbies and...
there they were - in all their primary color glory-about three GIGANTIC bounce houses that could IN FACT hold adults as well as children! The woman behind the counter actually used the words, "Please feel free to bounce too!" Grayson was overwhelmed, I was overjoyed and together we walked aimlessly around in our socks trying to get the lay of the land. Just when we spotted an opening into one of the beautiful pillowy havens and I lift my son into this rainbow land of fun, Grayson decides to go monkey-boy on me and clutch onto my hair, face, and shoulders like I'm going to drop him into a pit of hungry hedgehogs (they're much scarier than they sound.) Drat my luck...this is my ONE chance to return to my youth and let my limbs fly where they may but I am once again reminded of my adulthood and motherly responsibilities.

About ten minutes later and after much gentle coaxing, I help Grayson find the fun out of climbing into one of the inflatable giants. This one happened to be a combination slide that reached maybe 12 feet high (okay NOW I can appreciate my little boy's initial shock and terror) and we spent a good solid five minutes somersaulting around and generally giggling like idiots. "Good", I thought to myself, "now he's probably ready for the big guns," and we make our way to the front climbing section. Being the good sport that he is, my son follows his mommy to this insanely tall "staircase" if you will and just looks up at me as if to say, "Aren't there any see-saws or baby swings available at the park today?" But no, I don't cave, I press on in my attempt to climb these stairs with toddler in tow. It must have been the lure of a ridiculously fun fall or the high from the extra oxygen being pumped into this room but my sane brain had left me for a short holiday. Luckily, before we made our ascent, another mom busied me with conversation about potty training, military moves, and her not-so-secret distaste for Sarah Palin and Grayson never had to make the treacherous climb up to the top of Mt. Scarier than Hellimanjoro. I bet she was an angel toddler saver who made it her immortal duty to rescue little tykes from the near catastrophic decisions of their adventure-deprived mothers. Thank God for you Miss Angel of Bouncetown. We both made it out of those billowing pretend buildings and safely back into the lobby where Grayson spent 30 minutes in a coin-operated space shuttle. This miniature aircraft gently rocked back and forth like a warm bubble bath while playing "My Country 'Tis of Thee." The smile on his face said it all and my heart couldn't have been more humbled. My goodness will he ever survive me??

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Alone Time

Everyone can appreciate a little alone time and I'm no different. Just last night I ordered myself some sushi (sin of all pregnant lady sins! Well okay, calling it sushi is being dramatic b/c it was a California roll) and left the house ALONE to pick up my luxurious meal. Since we live in Skippack, PA there is no such thing as "rush hour" and an eight car line would be considered "backup." Last night I was in our version of traffic and had to slow my roll to a maximum speed of 11 mph. In most circumstances, this would infuriate any normal driver. For me, however, I rolled down my windows, felt the 6pm breeze blow my hair to smithereens, and cranked a Pat Benetar song on the radio.

Glancing around from driver to driver I realized none of us were in the process of gesticulating, cursing, or otherwise throwing an adult-size tantrum. It was a good time to be alone for the lot of us. I imagined the gentleman in front of me as a single father who had just dropped off his son at a soccer game (soccer's big here) and was going to get a beer before heading back to practice to retrieve his son. Granted, this does not make him Father-of the-Year by any stretch, but he had that stale Malboro Man look about him and as long as the game took a couple of hours there's no harm in a small libation to pass the time. Regardless, this gentleman simply rolled his windows down as well and tapped his cigarette to the time of his Def Leopard jam. The woman behind me? She and what probably was her mother (they had the same high cheekbones) were engaged in a light-hearted conversation that brought smiles to both of them at different times. I love my rear-view mirrors.

So, a few minutes passed before any of us even realized we weren't moving and an impatient motorcyclist turned himself around awkardly and went back the way we came. Good riddence, you don't belong here with us Loners of the Open Road, Patient Timbers of this Asphalt Wood, Introspective Minds of Route 113. We, the people stuck behind a broken light, are happy to be here going zero miles an hour up the street for an undetermined length of time with nothing but the sun freckling through the trees to entertain us. Well that and "Finding Nemo," which was still playing on my son's DVD player in the back seat. So much for an unadulterated trip away from myself. The sushi was all mine though, in honor of my fellow Skippackian Traffikians.

War Paint

So it happened, our little boy-genius covered himself in his own excrement before I could yank him out of the crib yesterday. All parents must be initiated through experience and I should've expected nothing different. Still I was surprised when upon hearing the angelic, "Mommy?" that greets me each morning, I walk in to find my little warrior had liberally applied his own poop to his face, hair, stuffed animal tenants, and crib rails. The worst part? It was already hardened and stiff which would lead one to believe self-painting had been going on for some time. Not a pleasant picture, I agree. If this is the beginning of things to come I'm going to have no choice but to tuck him into the bathtub every night so we can just cut to the chase the coming morning....to be cont'd...unfortunately.