Jessica's Blog

I figured I may as well try to do a little search on air travel to see Grandma Toni in October.  We figure we'll drive due to the numerous car seats and the fact that we neeeed our Odyssey.

But for the sake of due diligence....

I typed in our hypothetical stats and the wheels started churning..... then the warning screen popped up:

"An error has occurred while processing this page. Please see detail below. (Message 1348)"

I look further down the screen:

"There is a maximum of 4 passengers possible in a single search. Please reduce your total number of passengers and try again. (Message 1324)"

errr.... no can do, you silly orbitz.. we are now a party of five! ha!

I gafawed and announced to Hubby, "Guess what, Babe?  We have outgrown orbitz!"

I have so many feelings about what happened to this woman and her 4 month old son.

For those who don't want to check the link, I'll sum up real quick.  A 32 year old mom fended off an 80 pound pit bull who ran into her garage while she was cleaning out her car and tried to kill her baby!

Unreal.
Horrifying.

She fended the dog off for eight minutes straight.  She tossed her baby into a garbage can to keep it safe and the dog knocked the can over to get to the baby!  She ended up curling herself around her son and praying to save her baby.

So how did it end?  Well, AFTER contractors next door responded to the screams wielding power tools to scare off the dog to no avail, the owner called the dog.  The dog then snapped to it and ran back home (next door). 

Arms wrapped in towels, EMS arrives.  50 staples, countless stitches, and surgeries later, the mom cannot sleep.

The baby got through it without a single scratch.  Amazing mom.  As any mom would she said, "I did what any mother would do."  dang skippy!

the dog?

Funny thing.....

A red car showed up at the neighbor's house and immediately picked up the dog and drove off in a hurry.  Owners claim dog "ran away" and won't say where it is.  Owners have now disappeared.  Dog has violent history and was to be kept indoors and on muzzle when outdoors.  It's all on record.... for the times the dog's bites were reported.  It bit another neighbor no long ago.

What I want to know is why no one is saying this may be a "fighting dog".  Why else would these people work so hard and so fast to hide this dog from animal control and police? 80 pound pit bull viciously attacking (as in the mom has teeth marks on her bones) and not stopping until called of, and at that point, bloody muzzled and satisfied?  They must be earning bank of that beast.

The mom is out of work indefinitely (she is a special ed teacher), and has no insurance.  Her has no feeling in one of her hands.

SO so so so so furious and saddened.  Yes, we have a dog and love dogs.  I don't think this dog became vicious on its own and it's a shame that if found will not live long.

Terrible Twos??? Oh puleeze give me such a break!  Two is "no" and "mine" and tantrums.  Thankfully the kid tends to be smaller and can be tossed over a shoulder to leave a place if that is what needs to happen.

Three is a WHOLE other dimension, people!  A three year old will say no, tell you why, why you're wrong, where you should shove it, how hard you should shove it,  and kick you mercilessly while doing so.  And guess who turns 3 on Saturday, but has been acting three for about a month now??? Yup, Honey Girl.

This evening I actually felt nearly rage-ful over her three-ness.  I have to remind myself of Big Boy's time in the threes.  It wasn't a cake-walk either.

This morning at breakfast it was a fit over having her juice in the red sippy cup.  Yes, this escalated to yells, hollers and tears.  Yes, there was "But I want it!!!" and "NOOO!" and "That RED ONE, not the blue one!!!"  Of course (of course!) the red cup was the one that Big BOy was using... and the ONLY red cup.  We kept her from throwing other things from the table.  Calm, cool, collected talk.  In the end she was allowed to chose another cup from the cupboard on her own, into which she could transfer her juice.  It was the solution I could come up with that entailed the least amount of work from me, but would stop the darned hissy fit and keep her busy.  We succeded in getting breakfast into her.

At pick up time I got to read two separate incident reports on Honey Girl.  One due to an injury to her leg after a tumble on the playground.  The other due to a head injury.  She and a friend were sharing a hearty hug and when the friend leg go, she fell back and whopped her head on the ground.  This isn't too uncommon.  Sometimes, Honey Girl just doesn't want to, and won't, slow down.  The director of the school said she seemed fine after each incident, and if anything upset Honey Girl,  it as more being told to stop playing so they could check her over.  So very Honey Girl.

This evening is was the whole enchilada.  I remember so well from Big Boy's threes.  The ability to be so proud of doing something, "ALLLLL by myself!" one day and the next day having a screaming fit about needing help with something that's been rote for months. 
Then there's incessant commentary on every thing going on in her surroundings.  Like a voice over on a sitcom, or a spots announcer, but with a smaller vocabulary and voice.  But.... at top volume and each thing is stated with an exclamation point:  "MOMMY!!!!! I FOUND MY SHOES!!! YAY!!!!"  "NO NO NOOOOOOOOO THAT'S MIIIIIIINE  AAAAAAARGH!"  "HEY!  MOMA!  I LOVE THE BABY!  CANT I HOLD HER!?!?!?"  that is really good at immediately waking the baby.  "MOMMA!  YOU HAPPY!?!?"

She has discovered three year old humor.  "MOMMA!  I have a joke!"  They are all completely nonsensical and all start with "Have you ever seen a..."  I just laugh because she is wanting so badly to make folks laugh.  Also, if a group of people is laughing, she chimes in with the biggest, most infectious laugh of all.  That is funny, until she persists in wanting to know "whaso funny? whaso silly??"

Sadly, her listening skills are not as keen as her speaking skills, thus she and Big Boy got into a doozy of a fight this evening that got both Hubby and I up the stairs at a rapid pace to see if anyone was bleeding or dismembered.  Turns out Big Boy (told us through sniffs and skyward glances... because he wasnt.going.to.cry) that Honey Girl just would not leave him alone.  He used his words, he tried to get away, tried to tell her he needed space, and he finally just lost it. He was hitting her with his stuffed bunny.  Honey Girl was yelling and hollering and screaming because.... she wanted said bunny she was being to viciously flogged with.

*deeeeeep cleansing breath*

You are so amazing, Honey Girl... Everything you are you come by so very honestly.  It's become a family joke with your grandparents that I now am raising myself.... muah ah ah ah!  I swear I will do my best to keep you alive and well, without too much emotional scaring through this coming year of threedome.
;-)

TSA is now allowed to search the turbans of Sikhs flying?!?!?!

Okay... so does that mean women in Saris should strip?  Should a Rasta have to unwind their dreads?  Could a Bindi be explosive?  Should crucifixes or stars of David be screened?

Clearly we are out to show we have learned nothing from internment camps, McCarthyism, Jim Crow.

Not to rant too much... but this is...  I mean... Is anyone else as annoyed by this as me????  No, I take that back.  I will rant BECAUSE if I don't, if we don't, who will be left to rant when they decide to search you due to your background or heritage?

I have a tatoo.  Friends of mine know this.  It's nothing special, though I do adore it for all the reasons folks who have tats (and keep them) adore tats.  I got it on my student budget (I think it cost me $30!) from a big guy named Bob in Ohio.  He was a great artist, 30 years in the business, well respected and a dear man, but I brought it what i wanted and he dutifully carboned it and drew it on me.

I have had an idea of another tatoo in my head for about five years.  About the same amount of time I had the first tat idea in my head back when I got it in college.  In true college manner, I went with a girlfriend as she decided to take the leap to.  She got an Egyptian cat.

No, not going to share it (my newer idea).  Or where it would go.  Wont' be doing it for a while yet.  But I do want it as a mark of passage from my mothering of little babes phase of my life. 

I've toyed with the idea.  I've looked at that tat shops nearby  with a leary eye because... well, you only get a tat from someone "GOOD" and how do you know "good"?  Word of mouth.  But... I was hitting a wall as to where to go to get my word of mouth, as my geographically closest buds are tatoo-less or tat-removed.

But then *yay* this weekend I got to see my bud Vicky.  One of the first things I yipped after our hello hug was "OH WOW!! You have GOT to tell me about THIS!"  Vicky had an amazing outline of a chinese phoenix wrapping around the already completed winged dragon on her right deltoid.  Yeah.  Two and a half hours with a single needle (Remember that, Norah?) work in progress.  I felt myself jump over the wall.  She's got at least two more appointments to complete the work.  It's going to be really beautiful and another homage to her heritage.

Since Vicky grew up around here and went to college around here, and has three beautiful tats that I know of, she was happy to give me the what's what on the who's who.  She told me who she saw and who did the ink versus the drawing and their specialty.  She referred me to artists in SoCal who do amazing work and will sell a design, if I'm so inclined etc.  The person she's seeing has won gazillions of awards, is written up in every magazine etc.  Da Wei.

I've been researching tat studios in the area and reviewing artist portfolios.  Sadly the places closest to me are rather poor.  The portfolios left much to be desired in detail, color, and general artistry.  I did find a place that (has a great site, of course) and some really wonderful work.  Their specialty is collaborative original works for each client.  Not a "come in and point to something on the wall" type place TYVM.  I would be meeting with the artist and talking about ideas and images, size and placement.  Then meeting to review design work.  Then meeting to ink it (ouch!).  This would not be a one-sititng kind of thing.

So who knows when I'll get around to it or maybe even if I will.  But I do have a better "in" should I decide to get needled.  I imagine that if I do it, it would be around the time of Little Lady's birthday... or when she's fully weaned.  Kind of a "last kid up into the world" piece of artwork.

Our time at the ranch was truly wonderful.  So very wonderful.  It was hard to leave.  Really, it was.

I tend to get through things and then look back and go "HOLYHELLWHATTHEHELLWASTHATANDHOWDIDWEDOIT???"  Well, the two months leading up to our time away at the ranch were like that. 

Being up there was about the best therapy I could have asked for.  Singing under that stars.  Oh my gosh, the stars.  The Milky Way on a dark night at 4000ft.  Learning to line dance and laughing til tears came out, but hey.. I learned the "Tush Push".  I sang karaoke with my sis.  I had hours spent sitting on porch swings around the camp nursing Little Lady.  Porch Swings are just so heaven sent when it comes to soothing babes and kiddos and parents too.  I had time on the trail, I had time on Baldie in the ring, time at a walk to take in the scenery of the Sierras, time at a hair raising hell-bent gallop up a fire trail.

We have already reserved for next year.  Hubby wants to get there for a romantic weekend sometime.  We are considering spending our Thanksgiving there.  If we were the type to have bumper stickers, ours would read "We'd rather be at Greenhorn".

I loved sitting on the deck of the saloon with Hubby in the late afternoon.  We'd get a drink and enjoy watching the kids play at the pond.

Fun memories:

Big Boy's bullfrog coming in dead last in the frog races... no matter how much he (or anyone else) kissed it, slapped the floor behind it, or tried to get it to end the race.  The next night we found the frog dead in the pond... "New Pudgy" clearly didn't have long.

Honey Girls' frog winning that same race in three hops that ranged the whole floor of the saloon.

Hearing wrangler Jonathan holler, "Good Job, Jess" during riding lessons and my lope check, giving me the thumbs up to go on the advanced rides.  Mostly because this reassured me that I've still "got it".

The sound of gunfire late at night  and saying to Hubby, "Wow... you think they got the bear?"  and finding out the next morning that yes, they did get the 350 pound bear that had been terrorizing the camp for months.  They had the game warden present in order to track the bear, and it took seven shots to bring it down... out of the tree it clamored up. 

The well-timed rebuttal the wrangler gave to the cheeky guy on a trail ride who joked that the word 'round the coral was that it was really just a huge bunny rabbit.  After a long silence, the wrangler said, "Well you know what Jon?  Trout fishin' SUCKS!"

Watching my kids make new friends, and enjoying these new friends coming and asking for my kids to come play.

Big Boy getting his first snake bite.. from a gardener snake.. and while soothing his tears from the shock of it, telling him  about my first snake bite.. from a four foot python who was hungry,  when I was four years old as well.  He stopped crying real quick.  My mom still seemed pissed that the snake bit me when I was four.

Big Boy catching a big trout, taking it to the chuck house,  and eating the whole thing for lunch.

The sound of my kids hollering "Yay, Mommy!"  "Good job, Mommy!" from the grass while watching me do rodeo practice.  I didn't do the rodeo.  Hearing them cheer me on as I did pole bending and barrel racing was the best.

I had thought of writing while up there.  But I never found the time to.  I do regret that somewhat, because I would have loved to have written down all the good stuff while it was still really fresh in my mind.  But oh well.  It's now going to be relegated to the realm of nostalgia, right where it belongs.  It's important to have that near perfect place in my mind.

This evening:

Big Boy: I would really like to have a bird.  Like Loco or Cwementine. [Loco has passed away at the age of 20 or so :-( and Clementine is my mom's cockatiel that Morgan has fallen in love with]

me:  I know, Hon.. you really are wonderful with birds

Big Boy:  Why can't I get a bird? (said sweetly and inquisitively.. no spite or anger here)

me: Well, we're pretty full up on animals at the moment.  There's Max and Cleo and Buck....

Big Boy:  Oh, I get it...

me:  oh?

Big Boy:  We have to wait for one of the cats to die for me to get a bird!

*ahem*

Can't say he was wrong... He is really wonderful with birds, but man, we've got animals and when we travel it's big farming them out.  Zoiks.  Please Universe.. I've got enough of a zoo.... but hey, at one point, I had 6 guinea pigs and two cats as a kid.  And yes.. the 6 guineas had started as two. ;-) it was amazing what I learned that year.  But yes, Big Boy.... you may well need to wait for one animal to move on before another moves in.  We could do hermit crabs, I suppose.. we have the tank in storage from our failings as goldfish parents. 

This all sparked from having an animal-free home today.  I go to open a window and there's no cat sitting in the sun underneath.  Someone makes a noise outside and there's no Buck to bark at them.  I sit down and I'm not immediately flanked by cats and dog.  Our floors are a little dirty.  Hubby called Buck to the kitchen this evening jokingly because he spilled something.

I already miss those stupid fuzz-butts!

We leave tomorrow for the dude ranch.

I have decided to remain plugged in this trip.  I want to write about the days spent up there and the fun that we have, because I don't want to forget them.

Today has been a mad packing day.  It's not done.  I'll pack Little Lady tomorrow.  Hubby will pack the techie aspects of our lives and we still have the toiletries.  That really doesn't sound like much but when added to the morning mayhem of two kids who are eager and desperate to see their Auntie Nessa and Gramma Mawgi, it will be trying.  aka "can we go YET?!?!?"  " Are we there YET!?!"  I mean, we gotta strap the Thule rack on the Odessey for this.    Bike helmets for horse riding, life vests for the deeper pool, flashlights, bug juice, bite relief... on it goes!  The phone has been abuzz between the family members lovingly reminding each other of who is driving up when, who is going to go where, what articles of clothing can be borrowed or might need to be bought.  It's really cool.

I have been in a really crappy mindspace much of the week.  Desperately in need of time away from this valley in the summer.  Clearly my entry about my dreams has shown that fact.  Turns out there's a very good medical reason for my feeling off.  Yup.  Had my appointment with the endocrinologist today and I am in a state of.*drum roll please*  Post-partum thyroiditis!  So I'm hyperthyroid.  My heart races and palpitates while nursing.  I sweat at the slightest inclination.  My mind can't stay on any subject.  I'm hot. I'm jittery.  I can joke that it's prep for menopause.  WHo knows.  Maybe it is. 

My doc says that the levels aren't anythign to really worry about, but he wants another blood draw in a month.  This is interesting to me.  See, the only way that hyperthyroidism is treated is with radioactive stuff.  I've not researched it, as it has *thankfully* not been a real issue for me ever.  But I do know that the treatment would stop me from breast feeding.  This is a normal condition for women like me who have Hashitmoto Syndrome that has not required any medication at all.  Things get screwy for a bit and either normalize (so far so good after Big Boy and Honey Girl) or fail completely (I hope not) requiring synthroid. 

In light of this medical stuff.. I've been feeling rather Attention Disorder Deficit, stressed, feisty, jittery but tired.  It'll pass.  Heck it's par for the course of life with three kids, one of whom is a newborn, yes?

I'm hoping to keep writing while happily tucked up in the Sierras.  I can't wait to breath in the thin air.  I look forward to seeing the stars... as in the whole darned milky way stars.  I look forward to time with my family.  Maybe some Texas two step or karaoke or bullfrog hunting, smelling like bar-b-q and horses.... but just time away.

Another dream blog, bear with me.

Last night I had a bad dream.  While I'm not one to be judgy about dreams, this one was not fun.

In the dream I had to rescue Honey Girl from a bad situation.  It's all foggy, but the images had to do with getting her out of some chair contraption she was tied to.  She was crying and trying to stay calm, but I know she was terrified and hurt.  Yes, a truly parental kind of nightmare.  The circumstances of the dream are lost to me now.  Was she being tortured to get information from me?  Who was doing this?  I don't recall.  But I do remember I got free from wherever I was and ran to her cries to free her and was trying my hardest to be a soothing mom, even though I was scared.

Now... These kinds of dream aren't very common for me.  I mean, yeah.. they happen... but this one had me reeling.  I was in  a bit of a daze this morning over that dream.  Honey Girl climbed into bed with me as I was nursing Little Lady and I told her I had a dream that she was hurt and I had to help her.  She thought about it, smiled, hugged me, and said, "But Momma!  I'm here!  I'm ok. ... and I love this building!"  I had to laugh, "You mean, our HOME?  You love our HOME?"  "Yes!" she nodded "And I like all the homes next to it too, they all work together.  And I love my bear shirt.  And I love my kitty.... HI KITTY!!!" and she proceeded to go after Cleo.  It all brought me nicely back to reality.  Of course after begrudgingly allowing some "petting" Cleo was off and under the bed.

Later as Hubby and I were brushing teeth etc, he asked if I was okay because I seemed pensive.

"All I can think of is how for me it was a bad dream.  A dream I would rarely ever have.  A nightmare.  But.... for so many millions of people in the world, it's a reality.  It's not a shock.  How many millions of people have watched in horror,  helpless to save their own children?  We know that children had been tortured in order to bring compliance from their parents.  To do such a thing is thought of as evil accepted in times of political conflict.  That is why I'm lost in the thought.  We live in such a safe bubble,  We know this.  But that dream slammed me with it.  I am grateful to live in this safe little bubble."

Then we took a deep breath together and hugged.

I know that's heavy for a blog entry of a stay-at-home-mom, but I had to put that out there.

I also had a dream about Big Boy as an awkward teen trying to hide something personal from me.  In the dream all I could think was, "Darnit... if you were still 4, I could just tackle you and hold you.. but now you're taller than me!"  I'm sure that time will come along all too soon!

I took the kiddos up to visit the grandparents for an overnight (that they lovingly chanted over and over and over and over was a sleep-over/slumber par-tay!). 

Hubby is in a crunch period at work and so we gave him a couple days and good night's sleep to fuel him on.

The time at my folks' place was really great.  The kids had a blast... and then it was night time.

It was bedtime.

I was exhausted by 9:30 from the day and the drive.  Well, so were my folks.  So this is how my night went....

Honey Girl crashed out at about 10.
Little Lady gave up around 11.  I sent my mom to bed, as she had fallen asleep on the couch next to the very awake Big Boy who was getting a kick out of... SOUTH PARK!  har har har.
11:30pm Honey Girl gave a holler, but was asleep when I checked.
Big Boy fought sleep like hell and gave in at 12.
Honey Girl woke up hollering at 1AM... something about momma and ... well, I soothed her and tumbled back to my room.
Honey Girl wokeup hollering at 3 am.. something about her teddy bear.  I Toldher I'd go look for it, and she fell back asleep.
Little Lady woke at 5AM and nursed for a *holy crap* long amount of time.
Big Boy and Honey Girl came dancing into my room announcing, "Mommyyyyy wake up time!!!!" at  effin' 7.

My response,  grumbled, as I could not open my sandpaper eye sockets, nor could I muster the strength to roll over and face the ... er... children:
"I really don't think so.  Go back into that room.  Close the door.  Do something QUIET and don't dare to come back in here until.... oh...." *sniff* *sniff*  "Honey Girl, is that you???"

"Yes, Momma... I have a pee pee AND a poo poo in my diaper, I need your help.. No, wait!  I can do it myself!"

I suddenly found the sudden strength to hop out of that bed, dislodge my nipple from the Little Lady, and catch Honey Girl before she removed the poopee diaper herself.  Believe me.... it ain't pretty when a daytime fully potty trained kids decides to handle their own overnight diaper poop accidents.

I herded the kids back to my dad's office and turned on the tv... Thank God for Thomas and Friends on Saturday mornings.  I cleaned up Honey Girl and let her go comando.  They were asking me if I was grumpy and I said, "Yes, I am!  You have been awake all night and I *really* needed more than an hour or two of sleep.

I stumbled back to my bed and conked out for the blessed other twenty minutes.  That's all I could really get.  Ergo.. rise and *cope* by 7:30.  As I helped kids get dressed, bruch teeth etc I fielded the queston, "Momma, are you happy?"  "Yes, Honey Girl.. I'm just tired."

My folks made me coffee.

My folks took the older kids to the park mid morning so I could catch some Zs.... we were all concerned about me surviving the drive home safely.  I luxuriated in the silence once Little Lady went down for her morning nap.  When everyone got back from the park, I admitted that I tried to sleep, but I really just enjoyed listening to the sound of nothing.  They chuckled.  It sure is quiet up there in Novato.

Next time, I swear, I am going to bring the benadryl!

Now I'm home.  Kids are snoring, I'm sitting next to Hubby, who's probably also blogging.  Eureka is on.  The dog and cats are lounging around us.  I hear trains, helicopters, dogs, cars, and occasional people yelling.  *deep breath*  it's good to be home.

I just read my very first post ever for my blog.  It feels great to think of how far we've all come as a family since that very first post.  The chaos is funny, but even moreso... seemed I was trying to contain it, or keep it in check... har har har... so impossible to do with little ones in the house!

So good to climb a mountain and every now and then look back down the mountain to see how far the blog has come.

This afternoon, Big Boy came up to me and asked me, "Momma?  Are you very, very , old?"

*silence*

"Ummm. NooOOOooooo, no no no.  Why?" I say

Hubby says, "[Big Boy] I'm older than Mommy!"

I dont' remember the rest of the conversation... I was awash in wondering  if my sunscreen/moisturizer was doing a good enough job, if I needed a facial....But I think Big BOy said somethign about me looking older than Daddy, but then saying he was just joking... I got hugs, but... I was too traumatized to remember the details. ;-)

Then at dinnertime, Big Boy announces at the table, "Daddy, you are Naughty!"

Hubby and I look at each other puzzled.

Hubby: Why am I "naughty"?
Big Boy: You are very very naught and I will show you why!

Big Boy gets up from the table, marches with much purpose into the kitchen.  Hubby and I exchange the look of "I dunno... do YOU know?  No, I dunno...." .  Big Boy rummages in one of the cupboards, returns to the table and places something on the table.

Big Boy:  You are naughty because you brought THIS into the house!  ...... ANNDDD.... it's JUNK!

We all look at the damning evidence.  It is a snack pack of mini Chips Ahoy cookies.

At this point I'm covering my face to hide the convulsions of laughter that are choking me.

Hubby: Well, um, er... actually... yes, well... they are "junk" but when eaten in small amounts with healthy food....
Me:  Oh c'mon Honey... they're junk, I was surprised you bought them.
Hubby: Me!?!?  What?  I thought you bought them.. you put "snacl packs for lunches" on the board and I got the other combo packs of animal crackers and teddy grahams... when I got home, I saw those in the cupboard... did YOU get them?

Big Boy looks at me in an accusatory manner.  I am on the hot seat, the witness stand.

Me: Me?  But you did the last run to Safeway.  Huh.. maybe... [Big Boy] did you sneak it into the cart?
(notice how I hop off the hotseat so fast?)
Big Boy (now laughing as Hubby and I are too):  Me?!?!? NOooOOooo!!!
Me:  [Honey Girl]?  Did you seak it into the cart?
Honey Girl (whose eyes have been bouncing around the table at the drama.. stopping to look longingly at the cookies between each exchange):  NOooooOoooooOoooOo! *big smile* that's silly!
Me:  Huh.. Maybe it was Little Lady?
Honey Girl:  NO!
Big Boy: No! 
Me: Why not?
Both Big Boy and Honey Girl (in unison): She's just a baaaaabbbyyy!
Me:  OOOoooh... Well, tell ya what, Big Boy... Mommy and Daddy will do our very best to make sure, for your good health, that those cookies are GONE by morning, okay?

I give Hubby the triumphant look of "Oh yeah... I got him good now!"  Hubby smiles and nods back.  And hey.. we can eat the evidence if we want.

*silence* 

Everyone looks at each other.  Big Boy looks around at us, and back to the offending contraband...

Big Boy:  But... But.... I, I.... I wanted some! (he says reaching to open the bag)

Grown-ups: Oh no no NO... you SAID they were JUNK!

muah ah ah...

okay, gotta go nurse the Little Lady.

Big Boy and I buzzed by Starbucks this morning on our way to his doctor's appointment.

Big Boy was proudly wearing his latest creation: his first tie-dye shirt he made himself at summer camp.

I had Little Lady in the *not on purpose, but kinda nice* organic cotton New Native Baby Carrier.  I was wearing my croc mary janes (fully recyclable, TYVM)

Big Boy looks down and sees a paper cup in an empty parking space and announces rather loudly (aka 4 year old normal speaking voice), "Momma!  Look!  Garbage!  I am going to pick it up right now and put it in... recycling!  Because it's PAPER!"

"Wow [Big Boy] that sounds like a good idea."

"There!" he says after triumphantly placing the cup into the recycler, "I am doing what I can to save the Mother Earth!"

Folks sitting on the patio of the Buck's were kind enough not to laugh TOO hard.

Today Big Boy had his pre-kindergarden appt.  I would say 5 yr old appt, but since he won't be 5 until after the school year begins and needs the shots.. well, ya get the picture.

He's a healthy guy!  Something about watching him do his vision and hearing tests just made me beam.  Not with pride, but I just really got a kick out of watching him process these interactions with the nurse with such grace.  How he named the symbols on the vision test, "A sailboat, an ambulance sign, a heart symbol" and how he had to make sure the hearing headphones were on juuuuust right before he was willing to begin the test, "This one feels a little bit hurty..."

He's now 45 pounds and 45 inches tall.  so, 90th percentile height, and 75th percentile in weight.

Yes, he cried when he got the shots, but was very still.  For the first time in months, I have had the joy of holding him and carrying him with his head resting on my shoulder.  When they tried to cheer him up by offering him stickers, he gave them a look like, "You think a f*&#$ing sticker is going to make this feel better?!?!?!"  I had to hold back some hearty laughter.

And yes, being Big Boy, he listened very carefully and asked very interesting questions about what tuberculosis, polio, pertussis , and tetanus are and how the vaccines work to train his body to fight so well.  It's pretty cool to be able to explain to him about dead viral matter held within egg proteins and know he got it at some level. *gafaw*

Keep growing like your growing Big Boy, you rock our world.... and you're so big now.. and you're only almost 5.  It's going by so very fast. 

We weighed Little Lady while at the doc's for Big Boy's pre-kindergarden appt.  Granted, fully summer-clothed in a dry diaper... she weighed in at 13lbs, 10oz!  SHe's now 10 weeks old.

WOW!

I'm now again typing w/her nursing.  The voracious kind of nursing where I feel my body trying to keep up... wondering if she will ever finish.

VAMPIRE BABY!!!

And I'm loving it...  she's is so tall and so strong.  I look back at those first weeks, and I'm so glad things have moved onwards and upwards.  She's only getting about 4 ounces of formula a day now.

She's babbling, taking turns in "conversation", following people around the room with her eyes and and her head, and as of yesterday, she's trying to sit upon her own when reclined.  She tucks her chin to her chest and curls her shoulders in trying to sit... up!  She's starting to flirt from the shoulder with strangers when we are out and about... big goofy grins, coy little grins... coos.

She amazes me everyday.  Now, I'm going to grab a big glass of water and small bowl of cereal as all this nursing has me whooped.  Hubby can placate her til I get back.