Sit

Right around my birthday, the Coop-man begun to master the art of sitting unassisted. This is huge people. This is kinda when we go from infant to baby in my book.  This also marks the moment where we need to start thinking about baby-proofing.  We have made it with a three-year-old, and a whole slew of daycare kids through this house with very little "proofing".... but something tells me these two are going to be different. veeeeerrrry different.

Parker started perfecting his sitting skills this week, just about a week behind big brother, but he has yet to show his skills whilst in front of a camera.  As soon as I pull that bad boy out to document this milestone he falls over like a drunken sailor.  This is the reason that the following photographic documentation is lacking a wee-bit-o'-Parker, and has a whole-lotta Coop.

 Oh, this face... swoon

Update: Shortly after writing this post, our Cooper-monkey went from a crawling position (although he does not crawl yet), to a sitting position! This is HUGE, my big man.  Now, if he would just start crawling on the regular instead of giving us a teaser and then leaving us in the lurch... 

Apology

I am not a morning person. That is a fact.  I don't pretend to be. I need my time waking up.  I like my sleep (which is really only a distant memory at this point, let's face it).  I dream of the day when I will sleep all night, cozy in bed, no interruptions, waking rested........ oh, where was I, right.

Logan is also not a morning person.  This wouldn't be such a big deal except generally the first thing he is greeted five out of seven mornings is another kid playing with his toys.  Honestly, that's gotta be hard sometimes, but Mama's gotta teach him that, even when we are grumpy, we still need to be kind. and make good choices.

I add in that last part because, last week, this kid of mine did not make a good choice.  He was rude, and grumpy, to our neighbor and Eliza's Dad, Tom.  I was horrifyingly embarassed. In fact, he was SO grumpy that I have since suppressed exactly what the content of the grumpiness entailed.  All I know is that it was Icky.

So, what did I do? I told my kid to shake of the grumps, grab a marker and a gigantic piece of paper and get to writing. I explained what a letter of apology is, and had him tell me what he thought the letter should read.  Which was this:

Dear Tom,  I am sorry I was grumpy. I will be happy tomorrow and make better choices.   Logan

Perfect.

Logan wrote out each word, sounding the word out with some help.  I was very proud that he was dedicated to this task, and I know that he was pleased with the end result, and was very serious when he handed the note to Krystin to pass along to Tom.

The best thing? This incident reminds ME to be less grumpy in the morning.  Count my blessings! Smell the roses! Carpe Diem!

Just please, oh please pass the coffee first.

Bedtime Story

I remember bedtime rituals from when I was little. My mom used to sit on the edge of my bed, snuggled close to me, and trace her finger around my face.  The calmness of a moment like this, between mother and child, is something I will never forget, and I hope my own boys will never forget now that I find myself doing the same thing with them.

Logan's favorite bedtime ritual is for me to tell him "A Froggy Story".  It always starts out "Once upon a time there was a boy named Logan...", and has taken us on adventures everywhere from Grandma and Grandpa's house, to school, to the beach.  But, as it turns out, Logan's favorite story involves Logan and Froggy going to the park.

A friend shared the link to Storybird, where you can write your own story on a virtual story board. Logan could not have been more thrilled about some one-on-one time to sit down, while the rest of the house naps, and tell me aloud his favorite story for me to type.  It makes my heart ache just a little bit to read it.  Partly because I love how much he treasures these stories, and partly because he is growing up so fast, and is actually capable of telling a complete story from start to finish.  I am proud.

Without further adieu...
http://storybird.com/books/a-froggy-story/?token=dbnejw

Positive Affirmations

Being a mommy is hard. Like ridiculously hard. It is especially hard when you are a full-time, no break, no-alone-time-even-to-pee kind of mom. I have said it before, and I will say it again; when Brian is out of town it makes me realize (and totally appreciate) how hands-on he is as a dad.  Total partnership, and I thank every lovely bone in his body for it.

I am going to put it out there - I am so freaking tired.  Evidently, my super-adorable 7-month-olds forgot that they are no longer newborns and wake up a MINIMUM of 6 times per night now. We are talking between the hours of 11pm and 6am, which means there are some nights I sleep about 15 minutes out of every hour and a half. That, my friends, is not going to cut it to make me a productive member of society. And frankly, unless you have a newborn at home, I don't want to hear about your sleep problems. Tossing and turning? Having to get up early? Not the same. Not. the. same.

I can tell you, however, that even with the blurred vision (seriously, I am so flippin' tired) it is totally worth it, and today while washing his hands Logan says "Mommy I like you, because you are my best Mommy".

You get a car! You get a car! Logan's homage to Oprah.

I know. I KNOW! I need to stop laughing at him saying "(va)gina", but I can't. I am an eleven-year-old boy. 

Ah, the things he says.

The other day, Logan and Eliza were crouched down in the bathroom whispering.  He had mentioned earlier that they were doing some "very important work", which means "you better keep a super close eye on us because at any given moment we could potentially take out every damn book/block/truck etc. and create a toy mountain otherwise known as 'our work'". Yea. It has happened. After a few minutes of quiet, I hear Logan directly behind me whispering "Mommy, I was investigating the bathroom and discovered something.... I have to pee".

Noted.

Then he busts out with stuff like "Mommy you need to put more toilet paper in the bathroom for when I totally have to poop, because... that's just what people do". Really, child? Really?

Sometimes he says super cute stuff like "Mommy I need to wear my play shoes because we are going to a play", or even super smarty-pants stuff like "Mommy, five plus two equals seven, and I know that because it's just true".

Can't argue that logic.

However, sometimes, he says a really doozy. You know, the stuff that makes you laugh, but kinda makes you wanna cry at the same time, because you are IN PUBLIC.  This time, it wasn't just in public, but at the home of one of Brian's co-workers, and surrounded by other co-workers.

Let's set the scene: Logan and Brian, in the middle of the back yard, surrounded by 6786 people, playing catch.  Logan, the unfortunate boy, takes a ball straight to the crotch. I knew it was coming. He bent over, grabbing "the family jewels" and belts out in the loudest voice in the history of loudness

 "UGGGGHHHH! My (va)Gina!".

Yep, "my vagina".

Aw, crap. The roaring laughter ensued, and I joined in because, let's face it, either that or I use my bare hands to dig myself a hole right there in co-workers' back yard.

The boy knows he is sans a lady garden, and knows fully well that he is equipped with a penis and a scrotum (however he calls that a penis-bag. Too much information? Okay).  So I really am quite unsure why the new obsession with vagina. I can tell you that, the other night at dinner, Brian, the babies, and I were graced with a lovely song titled "Vagina", and went to the tune of "Twinkle, Twinkle", and composed with the word "Vagina" over. And over. And over again.

What's your sound?

Just as every good parent, I want my kids to feel that they have free-will to decide what they want to do in life. What their passion may be.  You wanna ice skate? Super. I will be there holding your blade guards. You wanna play football? Rock on. I will be there scrubbing the grass stains out of your tight white pants. You wanna wrestle or play hockey? No. Mom says no. Why? Because I said so.

Moving on.

Since the babies are still working on sitting unassisted and spoon to mouth coordination, we will wait a bit until we figure out what they are destined for. But, Logan?  My boy. My 3 ft. some inch tall kiddo has so far shown some pretty darn fancy skills playing catch, golfing, throwing, soccer, and hitting a baseball.  Perhaps he will be a natural.  All of those things are fine and dandy when he is playing outside.... but none of them light up his face quite like the tuba.

Yes folks, you read that correctly. The. Tuba.

Tuba.

My 3-year-old could care less about the candy being thrown at the parade.  No.  He was indifferent about the mardi gras beads, the fancy floats, the lights and fanfare. But when that band was heard around the corner, his face lit up kid at Christmas, and when that Tuba player rounded the block my boy could hardly keep his composure.

The tuba.

This, people.

Did anyone take a little look-see that that price in the link? Don't do it. Anyone got a kidney I can sell? 

I am aware he is only three, and he may not end up being the Principal in the New York Philharmonic.

But, he might.  And if he is, I will be there holding his giant tuba spit rag (actually, I don't even know if that's a real thing), and I will sit in the front row, and I will tote that giant Tuba around in the back of my bus Minivan. Go for your dreams, Mini-McGowans.

Welcome!

To-do list

I am in a home-imrovementy type of mode, but as I mentioned to a few friends, I haz no money. Sooooo.... I have been wandering around my house looking for stuff to change/fix/move/redecorate on the cheap.  I started with the toy storage area in the living room and added an IKEA storage unit. I am seriously loving on this thing. (notice the sleeping dog's paws).

About a month ago I got a wild hair to paint our front door.  I love the end result of painting, but hate the task, so I was more than thrilled when our good friend, neighbor, (and professional painter) offered to paint said door. Hell to the yea. So tonight our dingy 5-year-old front door will go from blah white to HELLO! Quixotic Plum. Enchanting sound to it, don't ya think?

Brian is itching, seriously itching to finish the back yard.  He wants to pour a patio and do some stone work around the deck.  I am not kidding when I say he is itching - he is found numerous times a week wandering around the back yard plotting out the patio with the garden hose. I believe this will be our next "big project".  Up to now I have dictated most of our home improvement projects,  so I do believe it is time Mr. McGowan has his day in the sun.

Today, however, I decided that I want to paint our kitchen cabinets white.  Our fireplace is white, and since the kitchen is on the opposite end, and currently a boring oak, I really think that white will be fabulous. I am not worried about the maintenance of white, since as it is, I currently clean the cabinets at least once a week anyways.

But today the projects will wait. Today my job is Holder of Sleeping Babies.

Some Twinkie Love on a Tuesday That Feels Like a Monday

I know I am biased since I put in a whole lotta time and effort baking these babies, but I just have to say that these are two cute boys. 

Outnumbered

3 kids.

2 parents.

1 dog.

Totally outnumbered.

Brian and I have become experts at baby juggling, especially when in public.  My babies take pacifiers, yea sure they do, called Le Boob.

What prompted this post? 4th 3rd of July festivities. Now I am finally sitting down for the FIRST time today, and... well look at that, it's tomorrow.