Popi and the Choo-Choos

(What? What's this?? A new post from me... amazing.)

Bug's Popi has a basement full of trains and really cool train displays—a 3-year-old's dream grandpa. But Popi had a recent infestation of bugs in his basement, which required poison treatments, so the trains are currently off-limits.

Tonight, Bug and I were talking about Popi’s choo-choos, and he was lamenting this current predicament. Here’s our conversation:

Bug (crestfallen): I want to see Popi’s choo-choos.

Mommy: I know, but why can’t we see them right now?

Bug: Because of all the bugs.

Mommy: Yes, Popi had to spray poison to kill the bugs, and we have to wait until the poison goes away.

Bug (impressed...with mounting enthusiasm): Popi did kill ALL those bugs! He did hit them and kick them. He did say NO! and NO FAIR! to those bugs.

I can just see, in his little mind, Popi whoopin’ up on those bugs like the Karate Kid, giving them the what for with his mean right hook.

I *heart* the mind of a 3-year-old.

Everything I ever wanted.

The other day, I time traveled. Here's what happened: I was just driving along with Bug and Bean in the backseat of the SUV when all of a sudden, a song came on the radio. You know those songs that have such strong links to the past that they immediately transport you back in time? The songs that remind you of eighth-grade dances, old boyfriends and summers at the beach? Well, this was one of those songs.

It came on the radio and BAM! I was 16 again, driving down the road with the tape blaring from the tape deck of my black Chevrolet Cavalier, windows cranked down, unglued red ceiling upholstery rippling in the breeze.

I can remember this scene clear as day. I remember feeling free, unfettered-- the world was mine for the taking.

I snapped back to the present and glanced in the rear-view mirror at my two children, both of whom had fallen asleep in the backseat. "I'm definitely not unfettered, now," I thought, looking at my sleeping fetters. And that's when I had a rare moment of clarity.

At 16, when the world was mine for the taking, do you want to know what I wanted to take? Everything I now have: loving husband, son, daughter, cozy home, energizing career, car with upholstery intact.

In other words, I have everything I always dreamed of. Which was quite a moment of clarity, considering I tend to keep a constant tally of what I'd like to have but don't (new couch, granite countertops, trip to Italy). Looking in that rear-view mirror, I was honestly overwhelmed with the reality that I am absolutely, unequivocally, without a doubt BLESSED.

And I realized that if, at age 16, I had been able to time travel forward, into that exact moment of time, and seen myself, driving down the road in my big ol' SUV with my two precious fetters, I would have been blown away by how incredible my future was going to be. (Not to mention the complete awe I would have felt at my six-disk CD changer.)

The truth of my life--and I bet it's the same for yours--is that we are WAY more blessed than we generally take time to acknowledge. So, go ahead. Acknowledge it.

Big Boy Room

I have completely fallen off the blogger wagon. This is partly because we're running around like headless chickens getting our house ready for Baby Mia's arrival in six weeks. It's also partly because I'm running around chasing our two-year-old while also preparing for the arrival of Baby Mia. And partly because we've been working on our magazine's fun new Web site (check it out here) and putting out our summer issue (here), while chasing our two-year-old and preparing for the arrival of Baby Mia...all completely headless, mind you.

The irony is that our life is CHOCK FULL of awesome blog material these days! From creating Bug's Big Boy Room to working on decorating the nursery to getting hardwood floors and searching high and low for area rugs--my nesting craziness has been blogger's wonderland. But alas, the life of a pregnant nester leaves little time for recording or reveling in the results. I can't tell you how many blog posts I've written in my head (when it's attached) in the shower only to have them swirl down the drain with the suds.

Here's a little peek at our nest these days. Let's start with the big boy room, shall we?

Here's Hunk with a little helper, putting up the moldings in Bug's room. Bug is obsessed with any power tool that could potentially inflict a mortal wound.

Moldings going up:

And the finished room:

Bug approved!

First Question

Bug asked his first real question today. His first, honest-to-goodness inquisitive question. Now, I know that within a few months, he'll probably be a font of inquisition so constant I'll feel like I'm on trial in The Crucible, but today was a first and thus worthy of an atta-boy.

In Sandra Boynton's book Doggies, there's a picture where the dogs howl at the moon. The other day while reading this book to Bug, I explained that some dogs howl when they see the moon. Tonight, he was looking at a set of alphabet cards before bed, and he pointed to a picture of the moon and said, "The moon is outside. In my other book, the dog book, the doggies howl at the moon." (Okay, he actually said, "Moo's ow-eye. In oh buk, doggie buk, doggie ow ah moo."-- but I took the liberty of interpreting).

And then he looked at me with this inquisitive face and asked, "Does Munson howl at the moon?" (Munson is our dog, whom Bug actually calls Mai, so his question was really, "Mai ow ah moo?") I know what you're thinking: I've got a freakin' genius on my hands. Oh, sorry- that's what I was thinking.

:-)

Potty Party

We had an extraordinarily busy week with the second issue of our little mag hitting mailboxes. My inbox has been flooded with encouraging e-mails-- most of which are from people I have never even had the pleasure of meeting! How nice! And the response to our two giveaways has been overwhelmingly positive so far. Yea! Two lucky ladies are sure going to be in for a treat. :-)

So, after our busy week, Hunk and I decided that a nice quiet Sunday was in order. Unfortunately, Bug did not receive the memo on this one, as evidenced by how he greeted us when we went to get him out of his crib. He was sitting there with his footy pjs half off, his diaper completely off, and two fists full of the contents of his diaper. (Let's just say it wasn't pee.)

"That's it!" said I. "We're doing it! Today! It's time for the big boy potty."

Hunk looked at me incredulously for a fleeting moment, made some comment like, "Shouldn't we read a book about this, first?" and then, thinking better of arguing with a woman scrubbing poop from the spindles of a crib, obligingly trekked to the garage to retrieve the training potty I purchased a couple weeks ago (but had been procrastinating about bringing inside the house).

We announced to Bug that we were going to have a Potty Party. He was all ears. First, we put together the potty. Then, he got to pick out which pair of big boy pants he wanted to wear (it was a close call between Thomas the Train and a green brontosaurus, but Thomas won out). Then we broke out the apple juice (a rare occurrence in these parts).

Bug drank to his heart's content, promptly peed all over Thomas, plunked down on his potty, announced he didn't have to pee pee, got off his potty, put on brontosaurus, climbed on the couch, and promptly peed all over brontosaurus (and the couch).

So we abandoned the big boy pants in favor of going buff. Which worked! After one more accident, Bug caught on to the goal and began fervently broadcasting (about every 15 minutes), "B make pee pee!" He would then run to his potty and make good on his proclamation, to the jubilant glee of Mom and Dad, who showered him with kisses, praise and M&Ms.

By the end of the day, Bug only had one more accident (in his high chair during dinner--that was fun to clean up), but about 10 more successful trips to the potty! We're so proud of him!

And to celebrate his success and cap off our Potty Party, we had cake. Which Hunk declared to be more for the parents than for the kids. Let's just say we all needed a little sugar buzz after today.


Amendment, posted on Day Two:
Only one accident today (in the high chair, again-- but it was Mom's fault. I had the dog in the utility sink in the laundry room, washing off his muddy paws, and didn't hear Bug asking to get out of his high chair to go pee pee...until it was too late). And- no pee pee on Thomas, today. Go, Bug, go.

Chasing Blessings

It is a beautiful (understatement) spring day here. Sunny, breezy, warm weather. Azaleas, dogwoods and daisies in profusion. lovely.

Bug and I spent the morning on a long walk with a friend and then stayed outside playing until lunchtime. (Bug is all about the tricycle these days.) On a day like today, it's hard not to feel blessed. Life's true pleasures are simple but rich, aren't they?

Yes, today I feel blessed. Of course, we really are always blessed, but sometimes my feelings don't align with this truth. Sometimes, I find myself striving, wishing, waiting for the next milestone (Baby 2), promotion (go, Hunk, go), purchase (new couch, pleeeease?), vacation (Colorado in a month!).... But the constant longing for future blessings causes me to miss out on the blessings of NOW. And NOW is where life really is, you know?

Reminds me of a Joyce Meyer devotional Hunk has had taped on the bathroom mirror for years:

"Instead of chasing after blessings, we need to chase after God. If we chase God, He will chase us with blessings.... If we want blessings, we must get our mind off of them. God knows what we want and what we need."

So, today, I am not chasing blessings. I am just committing to chase the present moment. And to chase a little Bug on his tricycle.

Blessed (happy, fortunate, to be envied) is the (wo)man whom You choose and cause to come near. Psalm 65:4

Fun Spring Things

Dontcha just love spring? Here are some of my favorite spring things.

First, some fun little things for the kitchen table...

A little birdie nest....
And a little birdie for the nest.

A pretty little terrarium...

Easter egg hunts...

And chocolate bunnies!!! (or chokut bubbies, says the Bug)
Long live spring!!!

News Flash

Bug spelled out a message with his blocks, below....

That's right! He's going to be a big brother (on or around October 16).
We are very excited!!!

THANK you, once again, SUMMER, for capturing this shot for us! This was all her idea (the photo shoot...not the baby).

Spring Pictures!

Summer Adams, one of the awesome photographers for our magazine, called this weekend, asking if Bug, Hunk and I wanted to be her "test subjects" for a new location (the Marietta Educational Garden Center) that she wants to start using with clients. Eager guinea pigs, please raise your hands? Us! Us! Us!

We had so much fun with Summer (it's hard not to), and I really love the pictures she took. She totally captured Bug.

Summer, thank you, thank you, thank you!!!
We will treasure these pictures always.

To admire more of Summer's artistry, go here. :-)

A Familiar Face

Bug is now officially two! For his birthday, he received many great cards, gifts and generosities in the mail, which were all met with much delight. In one of his cards, he found someone QUITE familiar on his five dollar bill. Watch and see...

The Cutest Shoes on Earth

Bug is tough on shoes. His current go-to little suede pair has been rubbed to a patent-leather polish on the toes. Time for a new pair.

But, see, here's my dilemma. Our household's current economic stimulus plan (no bail-out included) does not accommodate for new shoes for... me. Which is quite a sad story, given all the super cute spring styles out there right now (more on that here).

Yeesh, I'm cringing at how selfish that sounds, but I'm just having a little honest maternal moment and admitting that I sometimes find it difficult to shell out major bucks for a teensy speck of a cow (a mere bovine iota, really) that Bug will inevitably outgrow in the next six weeks.

But, the cuteness factor of baby shoes does help to compensate for the fact that my oblivious tot has more fashion sense, literally, in his pinky toe than in his mother's entire wardrobe these days.

Check out the edibleness of these little pairs...This little red suede number is "Avery" by See Kai Run (my favorite little boy brand). And for just $32 on www.tinysoles.com, they're a comparative STEAL.
Oh, Bug would flip if he saw these. Let's just say that he loves dump trucks almost as much as vacuum cleaners. Which is a lot.
Robeez Tredz "Trucks," $34.95 @ tinysoles.
Two words for you: PENNY LOAFER.
Pediped, $31 on tinysoles.
And there is something incomparably cute about a tousled toddler boy in Polo.
$53.10 at Zappos.

Reviewing these top picks, I'm suddenly feeling a strong, STRONG urge to call one of Bug's grandmothers.

Now that's an economic stimulus plan that I can live with. ;-)

The Elusive Baby Handprint

About a year ago, a couple of Bug's little friends enrolled in a local childcare program, and all of a sudden, artwork started appearing on their refrigerators. Colorful shapes, funny finger paintings and indiscriminate scribbles provided magnetized proof of all the wonderful things these young ones were learning.

I started to fear that keeping my son at home with me might be putting him behind in life. Because while he could talk on a cell phone, bang a computer keyboard and fold some mean laundry, the craft projects were few and far between in Bug's world.

So, we bought some chubby crayons and alphabet magnets, and Bug went to town coloring and gluing and having a downright grand old time decorating our fridge. I felt better.

Until I noticed the handprints. Bug's little childcare-attending pals regularly carted home perfectly captured little handprints stamped onto their artwork. Try as I might, I could never, never seem to get Bug's squirmy little digits to cooperate with my plans to capture their cuteness for time and eternity. Whenever I attempted a handprint, it ended up looking like an inkblot gone wrong.

And so, alas, Bug has tragically few handprints preserved in the baby book. Until I checked out a friend's blog the other day, that is. She had the most ingenious idea for memorializing tiny fingers. It's called the copy machine. No more inky smears. No more fists full of paint. I finally have a way to preserve the preciousness! Check it out:


And please, please, please nobody tell me that copy machines cause cancer. I might just be forced to enroll Bug in preschool tomorrow.

The Weird Things We Do

Kids make you do weird things. Like wipe someone else's little snotty nose with your bare fingers (and not even flinch). Like tackle the dog under the highchair to remove a stray grape from his mouth. Like invent songs about rainbows and meowing cats to keep a cranky toddler appeased in the backseat.

Or like climb the ladder to the attic and hang out up there. In the attic. That's Bug's current favorite place to hang, especially with Dada. "Up agee!" is the rally cry as soon as Hunk comes home from work. And so my patient husband pulls down the attic steps and helps our delighted son clamber up. Then they just sit up there, at the top of the steps.

Yesterday, I asked Hunk, "What do you do 'up agee,'?" and he said they "talk about life." Really? "Yeah, about furnaces and insulation and Christmas decorations. You know, life," he said.

Ai yi yi. Kids make you do weird things.

Knowing Your True Self

When I was expecting Bug, the most common comment I received when people would gawk at my over-sized belly was, "Oh boy, things are about to CHANGE!" They always said it like that was a bad thing, like I should go fill my pantry with canned goods and hole up for the inevitable nuclear fallout I was about to experience.

They were right that things did change when Bug was born. Everything changed! But, and I know every mom out there would agree, my life changed for the better. It morphed into something richer and deeper than I knew possible. As cliched as that sounds, it is so inexplicably true.

I honestly feel like I am more "myself" now than I have ever been, and while I am not sure if my comfort in my own skin is due to becoming Mommy, to having recently completed another decade in my life (grrr), or just to natural maturity, it feels nice to be a little more kindred with myself.

Here is a prayer by George Appleton, shared with me by a dear confidante and mentor, which speaks to this...

Give me a candle of the
Spirit, O God,
as I go down into the
deep of my own being.

Show me the hidden things,
Take me down
to the spring of my life,
and tell me my nature
and my name.

Give me the freedom to
grow so that I may
become my true self,
the fulfillment of the
seed which You planted
in me at my making.

Out of the deep
I cry unto thee, O God.

Amen.

Here's to learning our natures and our names. Here's to becoming our true selves.

Superbowl Deegup

What do blenders, vacuum cleaners, toothbrushes and teacups have in common?

Give up? They're all Bug's current obsessions. (That's "bubba," "vagoo geegee," "toobup," and "deegup" in Bugese, by the way).

Take the latter, for example: deegups. On Sunday night, we watched the Superbowl at a friend's house. It was a football frenzy in the family room, but where was my son? Trying to sneak into the formal living room to snatch a teacup. He was hanging over their baby gate chanting, "Deegup! deegup! deegup!" It wasn't at all embarrassing.

I have no idea why he likes teacups. It can't possibly be because the child has been overexposed. I mean, we've only done this a couple times:

One, two, five times max. But-- in my defense--notice the bib!! He's exposed to guy stuff, too.

Sometimes.

Dare to Reclaim Your Chosenness

Bug is sick today. But his runny nose and congestion have not depleted his energy level any. He's finally down for a much-needed nap, and I'm stealing a moment of alone time at my desk. The gray morning has turned into a beautiful afternoon. A sunny window, a quiet house, a sleeping son and a new journal: it's the small pleasures that make life rich!

In my journal, I've copied a passage from Henri J.M. Nouwen's Life of the Beloved. Here's what I'm pondering on this sunny Monday afternoon:

"We have to dare to reclaim the truth that we are God's chosen ones, even when our world does not choose us. As long as we allow our parents, siblings, teachers, friends and lovers to determine whether we are chosen or not, we are caught in the net of a suffocating world that accepts or rejects us according to its own agenda of efficiency and control.

"The great spiritual battle begins--and never ends--with the reclaiming of our chosenness.... Our preciousness, uniqueness and individuality are not given to us by those who meet us in clock-time...but by the One who has chosen us with an everlasting love, a love that existed from all eternity and will last through all eternity."

Hmmm... I've just added another (not-so-small) pleasure to my simple afternoon: knowing I'm chosen. That's quite a nice thought for a Monday.

Timeout (for Moms)

Bug has turned two early. He hasn't technically reached his second birthday, but for all intents and purposes, he's already there. Being "two" has brought with it many grand ideas (like climbing on the stool to reach the light switch to reenact Saturday-Night-Fever-strobe-action in the kitchen). And being two has also brought many Bug frustrations, particularly if he is unable (due either to inability or parental intervention) to carry out said ideas.

And so Timeout has become a new visitor to our household. Just tonight, for example, Bug was visited by Timeout when he let fly his noodles at dinner. One of my friends used to say that their child was two and "very, very ridiculously good at it." Ditto.

As proud Mommy to this accomplished tot, I have discovered that I, too, need a timeout on a regular basis. Or, more accurately: time outside the house. I need time to reconnect with the still, small Me dwelling below the surface of Mom-me.

And so, on a fairly regular basis, I schlep a book and a journal to a retreat center near our home. Wooded, secluded, silent, sacred. Perfect.

Regardless of the place, I hope you have a sacred spot in the midst of our bustling world. A spot where you can be alone, be quiet, be still. Just be. A place where you, too, can take a timeout.

Vagoo Geegee!

Well, today I signed Bug up for a two-day preschool program for the fall. I think it will be great for him to be around a group of other children in a semi-structured environment. He's a very social little guy. Hunk asked me what I hope Bug will learn at his new school, and I said, "Sitting." High hopes!

We went to the school this morning to register, and Bug had fun running around everywhere. He poked his head in all the closets and asked, "Vagoo geegee? Vagoo geegee?" Apparently, his greatest concern is whether or not they have a vacuum cleaner.

Today's Episode

Hunk and I have this little thing where he'll call during the day and ask, "What's today's episode?" Over the past (almost) two years of Bug's life, the episodes have ranged from "Giggles and Grins" to "Holy Crap!" and everything in-between. (I'll spare you the details of that latter one....)

Today's episode is: "Fling the Food." Dog food, that is. Across the kitchen floor. Now, normally the dog food is very much OFF limits, but this game produced so many shrills and peals that I couldn't resist snapping a few shots before calling it to a halt. This game, in case you want to repeat it at home with YOUR kitchen floor, goes like this:

Toddler finds a plastic cup in the laundry room. Mommy is checking e-mail in the kitchen. Toddler fills the cup with dog food. Mommy is still checking e-mail. Toddler runs, laughing, into the kitchen carrying the cup, with the dog in hot pursuit. Toddler takes a piece of food out of the cup and flings it with glee across the linoleum. The dog scurries--fur flying, paws skidding--to chase it down and scarf it up. Squeals of delight issue from toddler. Repeat.

Hilarity all around.

All About The Box

Bug was thrilled the other day when I went to Garden Ridge and came home with a big, beautiful box in the back of the car. Mommy was thrilled about the big, beautiful (on-sale) chair inside the box, but to Bug it was all about The Box. So, this was our afternoon:



And then, because I'm one of THOSE moms, we had to go make some text-to-life connections. We read:

Christina Katerina was my FAVorite book when I was a wee one.

My wee one's FAVorite book.

Vroom-Vroom-Vroomy-Vroom-Vroom! Buggy at the Wheel!