Avast!

It's International "Talk Like a Pirate" Day! Shiver me timbers and such.

Am I Dead Yet?

Apparently, my life just wasn't scattered and frenzied enough. Apparently, I wasn't experiencing quite enough misery on a daily basis. Something had to change, and now. So I signed myself up (along with the whole family, because let's face it, Misery loves company...) for a membership at the YMCA. We are jumping in with both feet--at least I am--with yoga, water aerobics, and weekly use of the weight room/gym (see: "torture chamber"). I've got my whole week planned out, and I'm going to exercise three times a week. Yesterday was my first yoga class, and it was actually splendid. My instructor complimented me several times during class on my balance, and even asked me if I'd ever studied dance (here I believe she was resorting to shameless flattery in order to entice her only pupil under the age of sixty. I did take a dance class in college. Intro to Dance with Cornelius Carter, former member of Alvin Ailey. I'm certain the man did not realize he was leading an introductory level course. His lighter routines left this little white girl purple and gasping like a toad. I think he took special delight in those moments.). After yesterday's class, I laced up my sneakers, trotted out to retrieve the wee ones, who'd been blissfully playing in the kiddie care room (I get to drop them off for two hours at a time! Those Y suckers...), and gathered us into the van. This getting in shape business was going to suit me fine.

Meet me, if you will, in present day.

I feel exactly as though someone has taken a baseball bat to my innards. Honestly, it was all I could do to ease out of bed this morning. It hurts to cough, to laugh, to sit on the toilet. Ladies and gentlemen, I have staged a war on my fat cells and the fat cells are retaliating with outright ambush. A steady diet of Slim-Fast and ibuprofen since Sunday... and I've gained a pound. WHAT??????

Dare you to keep a straight face.

The diaper box said "17-24 lbs." Dang cheapies don't hold half that.

LOGOPHILE.

What's the word for a word-lover? My son's a textbook case.
Did she say book? Where??



"Mommy, know what? There's two trips."
"Huh?"
"Two trips."
"Mmm, okay. What does that mean?"
"Go on a trip in the van or trip on the stairs. Right, Mommy?"

Yes, Son, and YOU, my Love, are a third blessed kind of trip! Will he retain any respect for his old mom when he realizes he's smarter than she is?

Her Baby Blues

They make my heart melt into a puddle of chocolate syrup. She uses those sparkly little sapphires to her full advantage. Hang onto your Huggies, boys.

Happy 90th Birthday to you, Poppie!

Chatty Mimi

What a difference being bi-pedal will make in a person.

The Small One seems to have developed, along with newfound walking skill, an entire vocabulary overnight. Our little songbird's entire list of words consisted of "Dada," "Mama," (only used when she wants something. Learning early, I guess...), "baby" and "Woof." In the span of about a week and a half, she's suddenly blossomed into a regular chatterbox, letting loose with all sorts of delightful expressions. Amongst her numerous new terms are "brother," "snack," "bath," "down" and "stuck." I took her to the store with me yesterday morning to get her some suitable walking footwear, and when I placed them on her feet, she smiled and said "socks!" I had no idea she even knew that word, since nobody's worn socks in our house since Spring.

Of course her favorite pastime continues to be following Brother around and doing whatever he does. Connor began learning his alphabet at around her age, using the foam letter shapes he played with in the tub. With his help (and mine), she can recognize two letters already. Maybe he will teach her to read in a couple years!