Kids These Days

Why can't they just pull their pants up?

The Goose is in full swing with all of his new perties. Every morning he crawls up to the rockin' horse and pats it on the neck -- just as if it were a real pony. Then he climbs on and rocks like a little angel straight from heaven. But then there's the pre-nap time where that's not what he seems like. We're working through a little separation anxiety.

Yesterday I went early to Goose's school so that I could pay tuition and spy on him through the one-way window into his classroom. He was sitting on the floor right beside Warren, holding a teddy bear and patting Warren's leg. Then he lay down on the floor on top of the bear and Warren lay down beside him. It was too, too cute.

As soon as the door opens, Warren starts saying, "bye bye bye bye" and has been doing that for weeks. But just recently The Goose has started saying it. Especially when the Baby McDonald DVD is finished playing and it's time to move on to something else. Or when the phone rings.

I picked Goose up and said, "OK, say bye-bye to Warren." His teacher and Ms. Paula (the director) were standing there with us. He looked straight at Warren and said, "Bye-bye War." I didn't really believe my ears, but then Ms. Paula said, "Did he just say, 'bye-bye Warren'?" Yep.

Phew! I was worried because he had pretty much stopped saying anything at all ... he was on a roll for a while and then just stopped. Now he says bye-bye anytime we encourage it.

Yesterday The Dad of The Family made his famous, award-winning pasta sauce (I'm not kidding, he really won 3rd place in the Flagstaff Italian-American Club's annual pasta sauce cook-off). He used the sauce to make spaghetti last night and then today he made Hawaiian pizza (ham and pineapple -- yum, yum) and we all pigged out. Of course red-colored sauce always calls for pictures. You can click on the photo above to see us in all our marinara glory.

One other note: The pants in the picture above were purchased yesterday at a consignment store where I like to buy and sell baby stuff. It's a great deal: I take his old toys/clothes (ones that we're not keeping for posterity) and they sell them for me. I use the store credit to get him new stuff. Yesterday I scored these cool pants, some Stride-Rite shoes, and ... are you ready? ...

HIS HALLOWEEN COSTUME!

It is a full-body dog suit with black and tan fur. The hood of the suit is a dog head. We will be at Aunty Amy's for Halloween this year and The Goose will be trick-or-treating with Parker Blue, Aunty Amy's friend's daughter, who is about 3 weeks younger than him. Aunty Amy suggested that we use a Donnie and Marie Osmond theme, but The Goose vetoed that idea.

Otherwise, we are just business as usual around here, which is just fine with me if you know what I mean. We would like to send a shout-out to The Goose's big-boy buddy, Babybird, who is having a tear-duct procedure tomorrow. Good luck BB (and MB and DB)!

HINT: You can click on the underlined names above to see pictures and read about them.

Horsin' Around

.

Not much time to write long descriptions about how The Goose is frantically trying to play with ALL of his new stuff (thanks again, everyone), but I have uploaded a few photos. Click on this horsey shot to see a few recent pictures of his antics.

p.s. The rocking horse was a gift from Great Grandma.

PARTY!

Birthday Boy!

It was quite a bash! There were family, friends, cake, and chickens. First, the guests:

• Mom & Dad
• Grammy & Grampy
• Macy & Grandaddy
• Mira & John
• The Holmgrens

Next, the CAKE:

As you can see, we used a soccer theme due to The Goose's obsession with his soccer ball. Do you see that unbelievable soccer ball cake??? Well here's the clencher: Grammy made it!

I don't have any pictures of the part of the party where the The Goose tore into the cake, OR the part where he chased the chickens around in the backyard (attempting to waylay them with his cart). The chicken chasing was probably the best part of the whole shabang. I'll post the details on that as soon as someone sends me a photo (hint to Grammy).

Even though we said, NO GIFTS PLEASE, there were, of course, gifts. Including, but not limited to ...

-A farm animal refrigerator magnet toy
-A singing elephant
-BOOKS!
-clothes

and ...

-The Bear

Here's another one of him with The Bear:

Cool effects! This is called a multi-burst shot ... a recording of 16 frames in succession as a still image. For more pictures, click on any of the ones above.

So anyway, the party was fun, fun, fun! Thanks to everyone for the gifts and thoughts and work!

Fun with a Gate & a Weight Correction

First, I must report that the doctors' office scale was wrong and indeed the Goose is heavier than 20 pounds. He's a full 22 pounds, people! Get excited.

Second, this post will detail his new favote past time ... SWINGING from the gate that blocks the stairs. Here's how it works, according to The Goose Himself:

The first thing you should do is pull up on the gate and smile at mom. If you look really cute (see above), then she'll then open the gate so that you can proceed to step 1 ...

Climb up the first few stairs.

Next, pull the gate closed:

At this point, mom will peer over the gate and say, "Be careful."

Then, launch yourself from the stairs while holding on to the top of the gate:

Now, SWING!

Then, DROP.

Can you guess what's next?

Start all over!

Little Red Wheelbarrow

Sing it to the tune of "Little Red Corvette" by Prince:

Little Red Wheelbarrow!
Baby you're much too fast!

Thanks to Aunty Amy & Uncy Todd for this cool birthday gift. There are more pictures of The Goose and his Dad if you clickety click.

Well who knew that working and trying to mother this child would be such an ordeal! Especially when one of us is ALWAYS sick with a cold. Now that I'm relatively over my cold, The Goose has now developed a runny nose with cough. Again. He went to school yesterday anyway, because if that's where he's getting these germs then he might as well go be a spreader just like the other little rugrats.

Yesterday when I went to pick him up he was in tears. I asked Ms. Sarah what was wrong and she said that he had a breakdown when Warren left. Best buds. I hope they never get in a fight because Warren has got 10 entire pounds on him. But that Goose is fast, so you never know. And speaking of weight ...

Tuesday was the 12-month checkup and here are the stats:

• Head 47 cm
• Height 29.5 in
• Weight 20 lbs

But perhaps the biggest news is that while we were in the examining room waiting for the doctor, The Goose took FIVE STEPS! The Dad and I were cheering so loudly that the nurse came in to check on us. Not really, but we were happy! Yay for almost bipeds!

Not much other news to report. There's a birthday party this weekend, so stay tuned for more fun pictures!

M&G B-D VISIT

Macy & Grandaddy left today after a fun birthday weekend visit. We shopped and ate out and played played played with all The Goose's new toys ... so far he has scored the following from friends and relatives:

• clothes
• a baseball/bat toy that screams "HOMERUN" if you hit it really hard and also sings fun ballpark songs
• a steering wheel and dashboard that also sings fun songs (though it's way under pitch)
• a pop-up toy thingy
• a Minnesota Vikings football that sings!
• a remote control car
• some books ... including a new favorite: Sheep in a Jeep
• a check from Great Grandma (whoa baby!)

Needless to say, he's just the slightest bit spoiled (this is all BEFORE the birthday party).

More pictures are just a click away.

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes of The Goose

Dear JEB,

Happy first birthday guy! I remember when we still counted your age in days, then weeks, then months, and now, the big "Y" word, YEARS! I have been spending this week thinking back about the time before we knew you. I mean, we knew some things about you before you were born ... like your squirmy nature and affinity for avocados and boiled eggs ... but on the whole, much about you was a big surprise: the boy parts, the hair, the not-much-sleeping schedule. How can it have been a whole year? At times it was really slow, and at times it flew. I think mostly it flew, because try as I may, I can’t ever remember a faster year.

This first year has been a time of learning and watching. Watching you, of course, as you grew and did your firsts: smiling, rolling over, laughing, sitting up, crawling, bursting through the bottoms of your footy pajamas, etc., but also watching how you've affected those around you. Like your grandparents, who laugh and marvel at you, who worry and glow about you, who count the days until they can see you again. And the great grandparents, who nearly burst with pride when they see you, the fourth generation! And the perfect strangers, who first oohed and aahed over all of your hair and who now wave back as you hold out your hand, "Hile Hitler" style, in passing. And I'm sure all of the above groups have gotten a huge kick out of your dad and me, making our stumbling entrance onto the stage of parenthood.

And you have watched and learned too. In fact, I think you could win some sort of Curiosity Award for all of your interest in everything around you -- airplanes, bugs, wheels, nuts & bolts, drawers, doors, rocks, coasters, VCRs, stuffed animals, CD players, the blinker in the car, balls, anything on TV, toilet paper rolls, measuring spoons, wrenches, toothpaste tubes, books, the list could go on and on. It is fascinating to watch you learn. You are a perfectionist (we have no idea where that came from). You practice skills over and over until you perfect them and then you look up, smile, and move on.

Most of the time I was pregnant with you we were jobless and homeless, floating around amongst relatives who all had to endure my crying spells, incessant nesting, and heartburn. Between May and July of 2004 we moved from Flagstaff, AZ to Austin, TX, then to Milwaukee, WI, and then to St. Croix Falls, WI. But despite our instability, your Great Grandma Ellie (after whom you would've been named had you been a girl) kept saying to us, "Your luck will change as soon as the baby's born."

Although we weren't jobless and homeless when you finally arrived (and by the way, why in the world did you keep us waiting for so long?!?!?), we didn't have a permanent home or job and were waiting to hear about the position that your dad has now at Radnor Lake. When you were born, we were living on the border of Wisconsin and Minnesota where your dad was a National Park Ranger at the St. Croix Scenic Riverway (and I was a regular at the public library and the Holiday Inn swimming pool). Your dad had an interview scheduled for this job (a permanent job he had waited on for MONTHS) on the very day that you popped out, and so he had to reschedule it. Then, when you were less than 24 hours old, your dad left the hospital to go home and shower, and in the middle of his shower, he got the phone interview call ... so he interviewed for this job standing in the middle of our dining room with a towel around his waist, dripping water everywhere and soaking the floor. But he got the job! And then he started saying that your Indian name was going to be "Little No Worries." Your Great Grandma was right.

Now, one year later, we still marvel at how incredibly lucky we are, although "no worries" may not be entirely true. We worry about you an awful lot, and mostly for no good reason, only those what-if kinds. OK, maybe "awful lot" is a titch understated, but there's no need to accentuate the obvious. I am only the teensiest bit neurotic about your health, and your grandmas and Auntie Amy may be just a little bit worse than me. So anyway, all that was just to say that you have brought us an incredible amount of luck and joy and love Love LOVE LOVE LOVE .

One year, three hospital visits, 12 months, 47 mommy meltdowns, 52 weeks, 150 lullabies, 365 days, 3,000 diapers, 525,600 minutes, or 1,000,000 kisses ... however you want to measure it, it's been quite a journey for us. It reminds me of a sappy song from the Broadway musical Rent called "Seasons of Love:"

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments so dear.
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes,
How do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee,
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes.
How do you measure a year in the life?

How about love?
How about love?
How about love?
Measure in love.
Seasons of love.

Happy first birthday John Emmett!

Love,
Mama