No It All

Yesterday we went to Nate’s 2-month doctor’s appointment, one week shy of two months.  As I suspected, his percentile stats are very similar to his older brother and he’s right on track to becoming a real chunkster!

Weight: 13 lbs 3.3 oz: 89.92%
Height: 23″: 64.30%
Head Circumference: 39.5cm: 46.81%

At this point, I wouldn’t recommend a pure liquid diet unless you’re looking to be compared to squirrels and meatballs.  But I think you’d agree, the look just works for Baby Nate.

Luckily this bunny wasn’t made of chocolate… otherwise I might have had to eat this little one for Easter brunch!

Bunny Nate

Easter Sunday bunny breakfast… the definition of good mommy or bad mommy?  You decide.

Today the thought occurred to me: Are there other people in the world named Oprah?  If so, why haven’t I run into a single one?

Given this thought, now you’re thinking I’ve been on maternity leave too long, huh…

Birdies.  We are all about birdies.  Chasing more than watching.  Jakey knows that eggs come from chickens and that a variety of birds make an array of sounds.  A few of his favorites include:

Rooster: Cock-a-goo-gooooo
Chicken: Buck buck
Crow: Caw! Caw! (He spends a lot of time trying to get crows to come to him by yelling “Caw!  Caw!”  One time he tried to get them to come over by throwing little bits of stick off the porch for them to eat.  All I can imagine is Jake standing like Snow White and having a huge crow swoop down to land on his arm, knocking him to the ground…)
Ducky: Quack quack
Mingo (flamingo): ?
All other birdies: Tfeet! Tfeet!

A couple of weeks ago we went to Wing Stop and sat outside.  Jake had the best time chasing the birdies and trying to get them to eat peanuts that he found on the ground.  “Eat peanut birdie!  Eat peanut!”

He especially likes to blow at birdies when he chases them… as though the gust of wind exiting his mouth is what makes them take flight, not his sporadic movements and the fact that he throws in quite a few lion roars.  “I blow it, I blow it.”

James and I love to bust out a “Tfeet!  Tfeet!” when no one is looking.  You should try it– it just feels good.

Last week our microwave gave up the ghost.  It was exactly 18 months old.  I’m pretty sure my parents are still using a microwave that is 22 years old…

I like to think the microwave lasted such a short time due to overuse as a time-out time keeper.  It was used for so many time-outs that it just collapsed out of pure exhaustion.

In actuality the motor burned out, but I’d rather memorialize it as the hero that it was, lasting just one month into the terrible two’s.  An eternal time-out; may you rest in peace.

Ever since Jacob was able to see past the end of his nose, he has been highly attuned to PDAs: Public Displays of Affection.  Only between Mommy and Daddy.

When he was little he would yelp if we hugged or kissed.  As he got older, his face would take on an extreme look of alarm and he would yell or grunt to get our attention… if we’re hugging, he’ll quickly wedge himself in between our legs and say “No Mama, No Mama, No.”  James and I are not allowed to touch.  All affection must be directed toward those 3-feet tall and under.

Last week Jake was riding in his car seat and James was driving.  Without thinking, I rubbed the back of James’ neck.  From the backseat I hear, “No Mama.  Hands in lap!”

Clearly an exact quote from one of his teachers…

Mickey Mouse is taking over my life.

It’s a little fuzzy, but I do remember life before Mickey.  Probably about a year ago I was at the Uffs’ house and the older kids wanted to watch some show I’d never heard of: Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.  I wasn’t really paying attention, but I distinctly remember this song that went “Hot Dog, Hot Dog, Hot Diggity Dog…” (http://tmbw.net/wiki/Lyrics:Hot_Dog!)  I figured it was just a song made up for that particular episode (alas, I was mistaken).  It was horrible and of course, the hook was so strong that my brain replayed it all night long and into the next morning.  I remember smugly thinking, “Oh, thank goodness we don’t watch this Mickey Mouse nightmare at my house.  Not going to happen.”

Ha!

Whenever you find yourself thinking a self-satisfied thought about parenting, be prepared to eat your words… for breakfast, lunch, and snack time.

Someone (throat clearing) has programmed the Tivo to capture Handy Manny and Special Agent Oso… which apparently play ten times a day because anytime I’m trying to watch something, the TV hijacks my show and goes straight to the Disney channel.  It’s driving me freakin’ mouskacrazy.

The following statement poses a high risk of me being disowned by my in-laws, but there’s just something about blogging that requires you to confess your deepest, darkest thoughts: I’ve never been into Mickey.  Ever.  Please forgive me!  I don’t know if it’s his little girl voice or his tight black jeggings?  We just never hit it off.  I’m more of a Donald Duck gal.

And now Mickey Mouse Clubhouse has cemented our relationship divide.  Meeska Mooska Mickey Mouse?  Mousekedoer?  We got ears, say cheers?  We’re splitting the scene, we’re full of beans?  Oh toodles?  There’s just too much to comment on so all I’ll say is: Oh toooooodles kind of sounds like tools, but not really.  Not at all actually.

Before he was even two years old, Jake was riding in the car with his dad and exclaimed, “Daddy look!  Mickey Mouse, on the bus, right there!”  And of course he’s more inclined to wear his overnight diaper because it features his favorite Mousekedoer.

My MBA program seemed to be a three year study of Southwest Airlines with a brief mention of Disney.  I want my money back.  Any company that can develop this kind of brand recognition and loyalty, before the age of two, deserves more air time in graduate student classrooms and corporate conference rooms.

Meeskegibberish.  Mooskecrazy.  Mouskebillions.

In the fashion world, black goes with everything.  Its versatility is infamous, timeless.  At our house… “want” is the new black.  It burst onto the scene just under two weeks ago, and like that LBD, its adaptability is irresistible. It goes with everything.  Everything.

I want it.  I want this.  I want that.  I want car.  I want in the bed.  I want in the outside.  I want hold you Baby Nake.  I want down.  I want touch it.  I want baba.  I want banana.  I want grapes.  I want (insert anything a two-year-old should not touch).

Tonight, I overheard the following conversation between Jake and his dad.

“I want that.”

“What?  This wine?”

“Yes, I want wine.

“Wine is for grown-ups.”

“I want grown-up.”

This morning I was waking-up and drinking my “hot tea” and Jake was playing with his pretend food.

Jacob: “Mama, dinnertime.”

Mama: “Mmmmm.  What’s for dinner?”

Jacob: “Breakfast!”