What the...Falk??

Brady is an imaginative little guy. He enjoys having conversations with people who are not here, creates "parking lots" out of couch cushions for his cars, and makes up his own song lyrics on a nightly basis (his way of prolonging bed time). Lately, he has taken to making up his own words, too. We were leaving Eat n Park last night and the child, whose new method of hamming it up includes transposing letters at the beginnings of words, yelled, "WALK! TALK! FALK!" The last one clearly offended an older couple who was entering The Place for Smiles, but what can a mom do? I just smiled at them, and pretended that Zach and Brady weren't with me and Ella.

I don't think so, Dad.

 To offset the imminent string of crappy-weather-days that will necessitate inside-play-only and to burn off the notorious smiley face cookie (seriously! What is in those things?! CRACK?), we took the kids to the Mills last night and let them run (and cruise) at the indoor playground. There was a 4-year-old who probably could have kicked my ass manning the entrance to the playhouse and, of course, that's where Brady wanted to go. I really just wanted to shield him from the brute, but instead, let him run free and just watched. Like a hawk. I hovered, I won't lie. Everything was just peachy, which made me feel stupid...UNTIL, the four-year-old-monster grabbed Brady by the arms and started spinning him around in this tiny little playhouse. I heard Brady shriek, so I casually walked over (but my frantic face probably screamed EMERGENCY!) to find my little guy and this other boy...dancing. The shriek? It was sheer joy. Brady was having a blast. And when we were on our way home, I asked him if he liked dancing with the little boy and he replied, "Oh, dat was a yittle girl. She had yong (long) hair." This made Zach happy because it clearly proves Brady is attracted to girls and doesn't want to dance with boys. I was just happy that I didn't have to throw-down with a preschooler.

Note to self: simmer the hell down.

Hard work at the sandbox

Ella's 1st Birthday Photo Shoot

I took a personal day today, met Jen and Jess at The Picture People in Robinson and cashed in on an awesome Groupon deal for Princess Ella's first birthday photos! She was soooo good the entire time and we got some super cute shots. I got a glimpse of what a girls' day can be like and while I always envisioned myself as the mother of boys, I think I could get used to this kind of mother-daughter fun. I still can't believe my baby isn't going to be a baby much longer...



We shopped for the girl's bedroom and party at Hobby Lobby (the greatest place on earth), and then visited Jess's nursery. It's a Dr. Seuss theme and completely adorable! I cannot wait to meet that little one! Boy? Girl? Name? When will baby come?! All the anticipation is too much for me. I literally start to cry if I think about it. I think I need to see my doctor about these zits and crying jags; it's like I'm turning into my mother with bad skin.

Happy Ea...r Infection? And Ella is 11-Months-Old!

We've been busy. And by busy, I mean with a sick child and a trip to Childrens emergency room. It all started last Wednesday night...

After his bath, Brady began crying inconsolably. I was able to put Ella down and then tend to my little man, but nothing I did made a difference. Despite the fact that it was late and the kid was clearly exhausted, I brought him downstairs and snuggled with him on the couch. I felt so bad that I consented and he got his bink, which we are really trying to give up. He is ONLY allowed to have it if he's in his bed, but I just couldn't say no to his pathetic self. He fell asleep in my arms, which is something he NEVER does. One of the few traits he's gotten from his mother is his need for space when he sleeps! I knew then that something was wrong. That night, he woke up every hour, on the hour, and when I took his temperature, it was 102. Okay, no worries. Fluids, medicine, lots of sleep. He spent the majority of the day on Thursday under blankets on the couch, listless. I pumped him full of juices and water and was thankful for the Masters coverage that was on the Golf Channel. That was the only thing the kid cared about. But even with shots of Phil and Tiger "ripping it," as Brady calls it, the medicine and relaxation were no match for his fever. It was up to almost 103. Still, I tried not to worry.

One of his eyes is open--creepy.

Zach was home on Good Friday, so we tag-teamed Brady with more fluids and medicines and insisted he rest. At one point he got up for what seemed like the first time in 2 days and he could barely walk. He looked like a little old man, wobbling. It was so sad. In light of this sadness, Zach and I didn't reschedule our date night. In retrospect, pretty selfish of us. At any rate, Zach's mom, Brady's favorite person EVER, hung with the kids while the hubby and I gorged ourselves on seafood and wine. Terrible, terrible parents...

When we got home, we took Brady's temperature. It was 103.8. NOTHING was working: medicine, fluids, and sleep be damned. Time to call the doctor. When I explained the symptoms, she was less concerned about the fever and more concerned with the fact that he had just come off of a cold and the fever set in almost instantly. She encouraged us to have him seen immediately. On our way to Childrens, I called my friend who is a pediatric nurse and when she threw out the word "pneumonia," I almost passed out. (Note to self: I do not do well in an emergency. And this was hardly an emergency. Good to know).

In this "Sunday best" on Easter morning

Fast forward a few hours: 2 rectal temperature readings and 3 failed attempts at looking into the kid's ears and we were sent home with Motrin. The culprit: viral infection. Brady was a trouper for the most part, but I can't say I would want a stranger shoving something up my butt either.

As you can imagine, Easter weekend was anything but festive. We didn't make our usual rounds, save my taking Ella to my aunt's for dinner. We didn't even go to church, and the boy could barely muster up enthusiasm for his basket. It was a sad day (especially because I was suffering from cabin fever, just another perk of my job), but thankfully today, Tuesday, my man is feeling better. We went to the park and then he ate lunch without me having to beg him or him bursting into tears. Success.

The boy loves him some stamps.

In the midst of all the turmoil, Ella celebrated her last monthiversary: she's 11-months old. I kinda hate it. I have EWS, Empty Womb Syndrome, but Zach isn't budging: we are sticking to our 2-year-plan. I suppose that's okay, seeing as how my face is breaking out like I am, in fact, pregnant. Maybe I can get this crap cleared up by next April.

That face is going to get away with A. Lot.

Ella made the monumental mistake of proving that she can, in fact, sleep through the night without crib-side service. Terri kept her over night when we took Brady to the hospital, and the child slept for 10 solid hours. How nice for Grandma! As a result, I have confidently and emphatically been ignoring her 3 am pleas ("Mum! Mum! Muuummm!), and have been sleeping better myself. She still wakes up early like her dad (5:30 is early, I don't care what anyone says!), but with a brief snuggle and nursing session, she's usually good until at least 8.

Terri didn't have any bows to contain the hair; this was her solution. Hilarious!

Our little diva is incredibly busy during the day. She's cruising all over the place. If there is something to hold onto, she finds it and she's on her way. She's standing independently, too, which is pretty funny because she doesn't even realize she's doing it. If Nosy has something in her hands, she'll let go of her anchor to check it out and viola! She's standing! Her first steps are still a ways off because she's found that if she simply crawls up our legs, she gets to where she's going. She's quite clingy. But oh-so cute:

Climbing on dad

We've scheduled her 1st birthday party, I'm planning the menu and decorations, and, of course, grappling with what she'll wear. I'm not too into clothes, but this is a milestone outfit must. I've seen adorable ideas with huge headbands and tutus and while I always promised myself I would never go there, I just might. She'll hate me when she's, like, 13 anyway, so why not? :-)

She's a hot mess. P.S. Zach dressed her that day.

11-months-old!!!!!

And So It's Begun...

I've officially begun planning Ella's first birthday party. No offense to Brady's first shindig because I think it was pretty awesome what with the Elmo crap EVERYWHERE, but I have higher expectations for Ella's. I have no idea why; that's an issue I'll need to explore elsewhere, but for now I'll just admit I want it to be pretty.

We're renting a pavilion at a park because we'll have older little kids (like Brady) who will want to run and swing, so that'll make the tots happy. And if the weather is nice, that'll make me happy. We have too big of a family to host such a large event at our house. We tried it with Brady's birthday and it was a hot mess. Literally. It was almost 90 degrees and because we had half of the guests hanging in the garage, we couldn't put the AC on. The grandparents were none too happy about the humidity or the fact that they had to compete with so many steps. So, we're keeping it simple this time; let's just hope for no rain on May 6th, The Day We Celebrate the Girl.

Having a conversation with my keys...

Brady has reverted back to Satan and, again, we can't pinpoint why. Last Saturday, we were all eating a "Dad's New Breakfast" (Brady calls Zach's French toast a new breakfast, apparently opposed to the same old crap I give him each morning...) and out of nowhere, he just wound up and smacked Zach. He spent a few minutes in time-out and when Zach went to get him, Brady said he was not ready to come out. While we were hoping that he was exploring self-behavioral techniques, turns out he was just crapping in private. Awesome.

The gorgeous weather took a brief hiatus and that's the only reason I can think of for Brady's bad 'tude. That and he's a two and a half year old boy.

Blowing bubbles in an outfit only his father could pick out...

We've got a busy few weeks ahead of us: Easter, my mom's birthday, Ella's first birthday pictures, and, of course, more baseball. I feel terrible because when Zach comes home I don't even remember to ask if they won or lost because it's bath time then bed time then more work time. It's just a never ending cycle of responsibilities. I'm not complaining (yes I am) because I'm grateful for said responsibilities, but a little more help would be super. As I repeat to myself 45 times a day, this, too, shall pass.

His first Oreo cookie. He was a fan.