Big Boy Likes Parmesan

He's a big boy ...

And he likes parmesan ...

'nuf said.

Life of Late

In the last week, there has been one of each of the following: a birthday, a holiday, and a funeral. I haven't wanted to write at all. But life must go on, and with a Goose to take care of, it IS going on right in front of me all the time (usually starting before 5:00 a.m.) and so I feel compelled to post this in an attempt to get back to normal ... whatever that is.

I have just uploaded many, many photos into my Flickr account, so for a full update, click on any of the pictures below (including the fantastic ones from Nana's fancy dancy camera). For the short of it, here's just a taste of our life of late:

First, there was a visit from Mama & Baby Bird (for more on this family, check out MB's super cool website -- of which I'm not at all jealous -- at www.deltabirds.blogspot.com). Baby Bird & The Goose couldn't seem to time their naps so that we could actually leave the house together AT ALL (except for a fun trip to Pancake Pantry), so we mostly stayed at home and played outside. Each time The Goose would wake up from one of his naps, The Bird would be down. And then as soon as Bird was up, Goose was down again. Argh. But it was still a fantastic visit and I now have a new boyfriend:

In the middle of the Bird visit, we got the news of Pappaw's passing, so we headed to Newton for the funeral. I am tempted to wax sentimental here and post a bunch of stories about my Pappaw, but where would I even start? I have so many good, sweet memories of him. But I do want to write that I was most touched at the funeral by how many people came up to me and said what a kind man he was and how much he loved me. I actually learned a lot about Pappaw during this trip home. I learned that he was a FOUNDING member of the Red Hat Deer Club, where on the wall there hangs a trophy in his honor: the rear-end of a deer. Many of the deer club members were at the funeral and a couple were pallbearers. Although I didn't see it, I heard tell that as the funeral procession passed down the highway on the way to the cemetary, there was a big buck standing just off to the side of the road. I don't think Pappaw ever killed a deer, but obviously they are still taunting him.

While we were in Mississippi for the funeral (and subsequently for Thanksgiving), The Goose enjoyed all manner of large farm equipment (including the grave-digging tractor at the cemetary). I mean really, what could be better than a large, loud tractor with enormous wheels?

And then there was the lawnmower love affair:

The Goose's newest thing is to take a set of keys, pick out a good one, and then look for a key hole (any key hole -- on doors of houses, cars, lawnmowers, or vacuum cleaners ... what's that? You didn't know vacuum cleaners had key holes? Whatever.) to stick the key into. As you can see from the above lawnmower picture, he is leaning down as if he's going to start her up, in just exactly the right place.

There was one other favorite four-wheeled device at the farm, my old Red Flyer Wagon:

As a child, I used to stick all manner of baby dolls, Barbies, stuffed, and real animals into this wagon and pull them all over the yard. Once I even hitched a dog named Fluffy Elaine to the front of the wagon in an effort to have her pull me around in the yard. Now I have a real baby doll to pull. Luckily, however, I do not attempt to cut this baby doll's hair.

That job is left to Husband. And although I know many of you will scoff at our decision to chop off his long, curly locks, it was deemed necessary after my mom's cousin Johnnie Mae asked what her name was. Here's a before picture:

And here's an aftershot:

I know, I know, I know. I loved his curls too. But here's the thing: They only looked like that first picture RIGHT AFTER A BATH. Then they just fell into a mangy mop sort of thing and it did sorta give him a feminine edge. We loved him with curls and we love him with his big boy haircut and anyway it's just hair and it grows back, people.

As a final note, I encourage you to please click on any of the above pictures to see more, especially those from Nana's camera, which span pages 1-3 of my photostream (that means that you have to actually click on the number "2" which is located in a box at the bottom of the first page ... and then you have to actually click the number "3" as well). Of course I'm not implying that some of you really would need directions to do something so simple, I'm just trying to cover all the bases. These photos are just too good to miss, as is all of life with a Goose.

Happy (belated) Thanksgiving!

Precious Memories

THE TWO Es

Precious memories, how they linger!

How they ever flood my soul!

In the stillness of the midnight,

Precious, sacred scenes unfold.

14 Months

Dear John Boy,

Things I love about your 14-month self:

1. You don't care if your clothes match. I do care if your clothes match, but sometimes (just sometimes, not all that much, really) your desire to go outside is so urgent that I throw the first warm thing I can find onto your little body. Then I open the door and get out of the way because LOOK OUT, you are on a mission.
2. Already you are a much better artist than me. While I struggle to sketch out stick figures, you clearly have a full range of advanced crayon techniques at your disposal. It's obvious from this picture (which came home with you from school today) that you've got a above-average command of color, form, texture, line, and value.
3. You already know how to use a broom. Now THIS is really something that I can appreciate. And today at school, while we were waiting in line to get your picture taken, you tried to help the custodian do a little vacuuming. And also, today, in order to get you to hold still while I tied your shoes, I gave you the dustbuster. This kept you occupied for the entire 39 seconds that it took me to put on both socks and shoes. (And back to school picture day ... I was a little worried about the photo shoot because of your wiggle worminess and also because in front of us in the line was a two-year old and her little eight-week old brother. The brother was doing fine (despite the fact that they had stuck him in a fake manger with only one pillow and some sad-looking hay made out of brown and tan construction paper). It was the two-year old that was having trouble. She screamed and stomped around the manger and refused to "kiss the pretend baby Jesus" or give high (or low) fives to the photographer. And so I, as usual, stood there in line underestimating you in my mind. I was wondering how in the world to get you to sit or stand still and smile at the same time and not eat the beautifully wrapped, empty shoebox that was to be your prop. But you rose to the occasion, as usual, sat there perfectly still holding the box, and all but said CHEESE. You did so well with the holiday theme that they asked if I'd allow you to pose for the "classic elegance" theme as well. Of course I acquiesced, and in this one you stood by a tiny, brown wicker chair, propped up one arm on the back, and again, all but said CHEESE. It was phenomenal. You wore your new striped sweater from Nana, your navy blue slacks from Macy, and your brown shoes (hopefully they can airbrush away the scuffs). Behind you in line was Emma, from your class, wearing a striped dress in three different shades of pink, a pink hairbow, and PINK cowgirl boots which her mother said were the latest must-have from Wal-Mart.)
4. You can make an old pair of sweats look like a million bucks.
   

Happy 14 months!

Love,

Mama

An Update on the Recent Visit of the Paternal Grandparents

It was short, but it was sweet. And I'm sure The Paternal Grandma would tell you that the best part was that she was donned with a name: Nana. The Paternal Grandpa, well, we still just call him plain old Grampa or Gramps or Grampy or Grumpy. But clearly The Goose prefers "Nana" to "Grammy." He now has two new pairs of shoes, some new clothes, and an entire set of His Own Tools. Oh, the joy.

The three of them wrestled on the floor and snapped photos and went to the park to SLIDE and sang "Old McDonald" in Spanish with the Baby Einstein DVD and just plain had fun. There was lots of horsin' around, as evidenced by the photos in my Flickr account (click the above photo to view them all).

Also, while under all-male supervision, The Goose had an encounter with a bowl of oatmeal, which caused a slight abrasion under his left eye:

Luckily, no stitches were deemed necessary.

On a different note, there are more cute pictures of our visit to Austin a couple weeks ago if you click here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/amycbecker

That's about it from us. Hopefully Nana will send some of her pictures soon. She has a Fancy Dancy Camera and she's pretty good with it.

Happy Monday!

Big Boy Cup, Potty Chair, & Lasagna

Not at the same time, of course.

We have finally found a way to get him to drink cow's milk: a big boy cup (glass ... former jelly jar ... whatever).

And also, he now has a potty chair. It's dry, but I'm just insane enough to believe that he can be potty trained by 17 months. That's the goal. Stop being negative. Look at that smile and BELIEVE.

And also, he LOVES Dad's lasagna (as does his mother).

We're happy.

Yet Another Future Olympic Sport ...

Naked Running in Light Blue Socks with Fire Engines on Them.

Just when you thought there was NO POSSIBLE WAY for the Olympic Steering Committee to add another event to the roster of Summer sports, The Goose comes along and ups the ante. And it's not even summer! Or an Olympic year! His prolific additions to the list of popular sports can only be attributed to the fact that during the last trimester of my pregnancy with him, I watched approximately 9 hours of Olympic coverage per day from a hotel room in St. Croix Falls, Wisconsin, while alternately painting my toenails and preparing meals on a hot plate. Ah, how I long for the good ole days.

And folks, there is other sports news as well: The Goose is now even more into soccer. Information about last night from The Dad include reports that there was LOTS of kicking going on. Down hallways. Through doors. Into bathrooms. Kicking a big soccer ball! My baby! A star! Already! I mean, of course he was BORN a star, but now he's like a SUPERNOVA!

Here he is stuffing a handful of organic oatmeal cinnamon alphabet toddler cookies into his mouth. Don't even think about trying to hand him one at a time. He only eats them if you allow him to to stick his hand down into the box, root around for awhile, pull out a fistful, examine them (while dropping several on the floor), and then stuff as many as possible into his mouth. We have no idea how he learned this. No idea.

And the phone is still a hot item. Whenever he hears it ringing, he goes looking for it. He usually can't find it (and neither can I), but I'm sure that if it was findable, then he would bring it right to me and say, "It's for you, Mama" or, "bye-bye!" or, "Dat. Za-za."

Finally, I'll leave you with this little snapshot. Look at that disheveled hair and the long drip of drool. Get yourself down to a bookstore and look at the newest edition of Webster's ... I dare you! Go to the "D" section and let me know if what I suspect is true: He is redefining the word DELICIOUS.

Mother & Goose: On Easy Street

Today was one of those Really Good Days where you're really happy at the end of it and you wonder WHY Why why can't this just happen all the time?

The Goose & The Dad got up before 6:00 a.m. (WILLINGLY!) while I stayed in bed murmuring incomprehensible English. I think it was English.

Then The Goose napped, I graded papers and guzzled coffee, and The Dad read and drank green tea. Next, we all went to the park where there was sweet Sophie of about 12-months. Now if you think that my child goes to bed early, think again. Meet Sophie. Down at 6 p.m. Up at 7 a.m. Wow.

Finally, there was a lengthy afternoon nap (sans coughing, thank goodness), a photo shoot (see below), dinner, and finally bath and bed time. And of course I couldn't let Sophie's mom one-up me. Goose went down at 6:30 p.m. tonight.

This parenting stuff is nothing. A piece of cake! Why have I ever complained before about how hard it is?

You know what this means, right?

I will pay tomorrow.

Photos from today follow:

Piano Lessons with Mom. I tried to get him to use the J.S. Bach anthology and learn a few Inventions or Fugues or something. But his style is more like rock-n-roll.

I was actually trying to get a picture of him rocking the horse back and forth violently while holding one hand up in the air, just like a rodeo king. And here all this time I've been saying, "NO football! It's just too dangerous and violent and all of that." And here he is wanting to just go 8 seconds on the rocking horse. They dream big, don't they?

Halloween & Habañero

GRRRRrrrr!

It's a bird! It's a plane! It's Black-and-tan-dog-suit baby! Er, Toddler! And it's not Halloween! And the black and tan dog has green webbed feet! And there are more shots from the side and back if you'll just click on the above picture!

And for those of you following the ketchup infatuation (if you listen to "A Prairie Home Companion," then right now you MUST be singing, "Ketchup, Ketchup!" to that lovely tune):

There has been a major development ...

The discovery of Crystal Classic Habañero Sauce. Why do we even HAVE Crystal Classic Habañero Sauce? And what makes it "classic"?

Happy Wednesday!