From the mouths of babes...

So I was talking about the dogs in the car on the way home from dinner tonight.

A wee little voice piped in from the carseat with this:

"Bad dogs poop."

Wise words Son. Wise words...

Happy Birthday to Daddy!

You know you've become completely enveloped in parenthood when you're singing Happy Birthday to your husband, and the two of you are looking at your son for his reaction. And of course, the beloved progeny must help to blow out the candle. Then the real Birthday Boy cheers for HIM!




Dan polished off this fabulous celebration by filing for our tax return. Ha!

I tried to teach Payne to say "Happy Birthday Daddy!" and it came out more like "Abby Budnudah DaddEEE!". Fortunately Dan still appreciated the effort.


P.S. I had to share this awesome photo that Dan snapped of Payne while I was at work the other night. The blogger uploader recognizes when a human face is flipped sideways and will correct it automatically. Um, I had to manually correct this one. heh heh.


It's good to see "the face" on film again.

Minor illness + Early pregnancy = Stupidity

Two prime examples:

Fully believing that Corn Pops in an open cup will be both a nutritious and tidy breakfast for a two year old.



Packing a lunch for your child that is so unrecognizable, it requires both reassurance for the lunch distributor, and a label.

Breaking News: I cannot spell the word "alarmed" either. Awesome.

You take a kid to the park....

you freeze your booty off so he can have a chance to burn off some energy, and he chooses to sit next to you on the park bench and "read" a book. (sorry for the ridiculously blown out photo)

You give up, take the kid home...

and he plays with the tennis ball strung from the ceiling (for parking assistance) for as long as you'll let him.

Really son, I could have saved some gas if you could have just told me you wanted to play ghetto tether ball in the first place.

Also, I was very sad to retire his fabulously squishy and adorable puppy sweatshirt today. I love it dearly, and didn't want to give up on it. Unfortunately, putting it on caused Payne to emit headache inducing "my skull is being compressed" shrieks, and pulling it off elicited similar, but more intense "my ears are being ripped off" wails.

Farewell painfully adorable fuzzy dog face applique. You've fallen victim to ownership by an abnormally large headed tot. (sniffle)

I keep finding him like this.

(This photo is awesome on a grand scale. Definitely makes the "show future girlfriend" list)



I'm not referencing double fisting the blankets. That's totally normal for this "nigh nigh"-aholic. You can see here how we get him to willingly separate from them. He gets to go into the "forbidden room" to throw them in the dirty clothes.

I'm crafty.

Anyway, the new and weird thing he keeps doing is taking off his socks and pulling his pajama pants up to his knees. Either he is channeling his Payne Stewart days, or he's decided to go for a more European aesthetic (man capris?).

Payne has street cred.

The kid is certainly a "dive in head first" type, so we've seen our share of bumps and bruises. I was actually afraid to take him in public when he was an early walker. Why do children learn to walk before the reflex to shoot out their arms when they fall is well developed? Gah. Today was quite the day though, the worst one in regard to minor injuries that we've had in awhile.

The morning started off nicely with a swan dive off of the pew at mass directly onto a very nice elderly gentleman's feet. Payne got a beauty of a kneeler shaped bruise on his eyebrow as a souvenir. Late this afternoon he completely ate it crawling all over a chair he wasn't supposed to be messing with, and he ended up with a scrape on his neck, bump on the back of his head, and goose egg on his forehead from that fall.

I swear, on days like this I just want to put him safely in bed at 6 p.m. and start over tomorrow. (sigh)

Here's the damage. You can tell he's really torn up about it. I'm sure these will ripen to a lovely blue grey overnight.

Payne says he knows nothing about a church pew and you should see the other baby.

You can also see his chipped tooth from a previous spill. I prefer to think of the look as "rugged".

On a happier note, Piggy was able to join us for dinner. He really enjoyed the chipotle chicken. I think he will be enjoying it for some time, since it's now ground into his snout curls for all eternity.

The Sleep Hangover

This pregnancy has been delightfully devoid of many symptoms, except for what I've coined as my sleep hangovers.

At night I wake up and am so very happy I'm in bed. I get excited that I'm sleeping and laying there just feels delicious. So I guess this would be the "sleep drunk" that precedes the sleep hangover. ha.

When it's time to get up in the morning I struggle. I lay in bed awake unwilling to give up my cozy nest. Once I finally stumble out of bed I feel ridiculously groggy and sort of stagger towards the coffee machine. My brain doesn't work and everything seems obscenely difficult to accomplish. Despite having just gotten a full night's sleep I feel truly mentally and physically exhausted. I genuinely feel hung over. The only symptom conspicuously absent is overpowering desire for a Whataburger breakfast.

So, what made me laugh and prompted this relatively uninteresting and unillustrated post, was what I did in the midst of my hangover today. I went to get my coffee cup and spoon, set up my sugar and cream, reached for the carafe, and looked down to (nearly) pour my coffee into a cereal bowl.

I remember feeling amused and slightly unnerved by this last time, but it's weirdly hilarious to be fully aware that one's brain isn't firing on all eight cylinders, and won't be for a good long time yet. heh heh.

(p.s. I just spell checked this post and had like 8 errors. Usually I have none. This baby is definitely a brain sucker.)