NO MORE CAST.

We went to our four week "broken arm checkup". Good news, NO MORE CAST. NO MORE BROKEN BONES. Look, mom TWO hands.



Then we immediately went to the grocery store. Stocked up on bubble bath essentials. Bubbles. And bubbly. It was no cast party time people.


We used an entire bottle of Mr. Bubbles. Both boys soon became Mr. Bubble and Mr. Bubble Jr. Max had really missed having his big bro accompany him at bath time. Mason had missed the fun of soaking up in the tub. His little arm was ready to be cleaned and scrubbed down. I couldn't wait to get my hands on that smelly, shriveled, tiny little arm.


The splashed and laughed. Giggled, doused each other with soapy suds over and over again. The sounds from the bathroom were glorious, total bliss. A bubble bath party like no other. The two of them and their infectious smiles, contagious laughs, and lathered bums.


Cheers, we are cast free.

Merry Christmas 2010!

From all my favorite boys.




Love,
Mason, Max & Nugget (the unborn who remains nameless - still).

It's done.

Well, I did it. The long awaited graduation ceremony has come and gone. What a rush. I had so many family members there to cheer me on, a true sign at how supported I've been all along this journey.The months quickly turned to weeks and the weeks to days. This semester moved quickly and though there were minor obstacles to overcome weekly and in every course, there was no barrier stopping me now.I still cannot believe it actually happened. I remember applying for graduation and receiving notification from my adviser that it looked promising, all my credits were lined up and in the computer. My diploma requirements were complete and upon passing the final credits of the semester, I'd be done. For real. All done. I still felt hesitant even after ordering announcements and picking up commencement tickets from the dean's office. I knew that at any moment a pesky email would arrive in my inbox stating that there had been some clerical error and I wasn't qualified or ready to graduate.

That e-mail, well it never happened. But graduation, well it did. Six hundred names in, mine was called. As I heard it read aloud, I could do nothing but smile. And walk to shake hands with whoever was on stage, grab the diploma and smile bigger. Just like that, it happened. Just like that, I'm done with college. I don't know what happens next or where I'd like to go from here. But for now I'm still smiling, still thinking "Wow, I did it. For real" and still so thankful for the opportunity and support all along.



Did it.

a half.

Max,
Oh you sweet little man you are one and a HALF today. Your mischief and happiness is still intact. You are quite determined and headstrong. Best put - you're down right stubborn. It is your way or...well, no way.

You've learned to hit and to whine for snacks. You have started to talk more and more. My favorite new word "turtle". You've really only said it twice but I love the way your little lips form to utter a T sound. Unbearable cuteness.



You lived through your first hair cut. Barely. With the help of none other than SWEETS. And bubbles. Which pretty much happen to be two of your very favorite things.

Saying you have a sweet tooth might be the understatement of the century. Child, you would live on candy and ice cream and anything covered in sugar. I'm certain it's why you are so sweet. Not only do you love sweets you know just where they are not-so-secretly hidden. You will race to the pantry or freezer at any given home we're at and wince and whine and point "dat" until you spot a golden wrapped Reese's. Suddenly ice cream appears from the freezer and you clap, race to the table and grin proudly. "Dat" is what you wanted and "dat" is what you got.


You've started to interact with your big brother and I love it. For the most part you just study him in full admiration. Watching each move to attempt and copy it later. you may be the younger brother but you are not submissive, you lash out if a toy is taken from you without your permission, you hit back fiercely, actually you often throw the first punch. You are a stocky, munchkin warrior. You are also quite the monkey, you can quickly scale a couch or bar stool, only to stand atop the kitchen table where you KNOW you do not belong. Instead of yelling for acknowledgement you wait until someone peeks around the wall and spots you. Then you smirk proudly and start to groan, because you know I'm coming to remove you.

You are totally growing up in to a little boy. The hair cut definitely helps make it more real. Oh but you are still such a little guy, a tiny baby. You snuggle with the best of them and have learned to suck BOTH of your thumbs at once. We love you Maximo. Keep on growing, thriving and being you.


And in the meantime, happy half birthday munchkin man!!!

preschool programs

I'm really not sure when my little man became old enough to have a school program, but I guess he did. Somewhere along the last twelve months my baby converted in to a preschooler. Right before my very eyes. This transformation can be proven when looking back at last year's photo albums, catching a glimpse of a snapshot hanging on the wall and most of all when watching an old video. He's grown up in to a big, but ever so little man. My three, "but almost four year old" as he constantly reminds me, marked off another checkpoint of growing up. The first school program. And he rocked it, if I do say so myself.


The children filed in class after class and sat in the church pews in front of us. As soon as I spotted Mason my heart filled with pride and a smile crept across my face involuntarily. He was dressed in his most festive attire, a Santa shirt and a Santa hat. Ready to sing the songs he'd practiced so studiously.


At last, his class took the stage. He was front and center. His bright eyes began to scour the sea of people and recording devices, he was searching for a familiar face.


And then, he found it. There we were.


He had spotted Mommy and Daddy, eyes bright, smiling back, ear to ear. I'm not sure who was more excited, Mason or us. I'm betting we win that one though. I wanted to run out mid song and hug him, shake him and shout to the audience "HE IS MINE. ISN'T HE WONDERFUL? LOOK AT HIS SMILE. CAN YOU HEAR HIS SWEET VOICE? HE KNOWS ALL THE WORDS AND HE'S SO SHY BUT HE'S UP THERE - GIVING IT HIS ALL AND SMILING AND FULL OF PRIDE, JOY AND HAPPINESS. AND HE'S MINE. MINE. MINE. CAN YOU BELIEVE I MADE HIM. ME. THE BEST THING I'VE EVER DONE. I'M NOT SHARING HIM OR HIS SWEET SMILING CHEEKS EITHER PEOPLE!!" I resisted that urge. But seriously, in that very moment my heart wanted to burst. Full of happiness. Full of pride. Joy. Full of love for this sweet preschool nugget, that is all mine.


The concert ended and we snapped a few more pictures. We headed out for a celebratory dinner. Celebrating awesomeness and our first school program under our belt.

gingerbread adventures.

Those gingerbread house boxes you see at the grocery and craft stores. Yeah those, they are total false advertisement. The people smiling and icing the house with ease. Mmhm, that does not happen. Here is a real adventure in gingerbread house making. Maybe I should send those companies these pictures, but then sales may drop.

First of all, we sent Michael to the store with the mission of BUY BOXED, EASY TO ASSEMBLE GINGERBREAD HOUSE KIT. Michael walks in shortly after confirmation that the gingerbread house was purchased. We open the box, sort the goodies in to bowls, but umm...where's the icing honey? Oh that's right, we got a kit with icing you have to MAKE. And by the way, you have to add a shit load more water than it says. And with two extremely giddy, excited, impatient kiddos waiting around it's not the easiest route to go. Look at the amount of icing dust they packaged!!

I ate The boys used every sticky drop.


A lot of preparation went in to the building of this gooey wonder. Okay, so really Michael skimmed at the directions and Mason was fully intent making out with his mixer beater. But occasionally pretended to be focused on the task at hand. As usual, Michael got super in to the activity and before it was all said in done, I'm pretty sure we decided he could surely become an architect like tomorrow if he wanted. In the North Pole at least.

Do you see where the real interest lies? The beater. He is planning his tongue attack with great detail and lust. ICING & CANDY. YUM.


Max did what Max does best. Ate. He indulged himself in icing, candy and blueberries. The dinner of a champion. This baby has a sweet tooth like NONE OTHER. Seriously, it baffles me how much sugar he can consume without puking. It does totally show in his boisterous, banshee behavior. So serious about icing, he was double fisting.


Alas, our sweet finished gingerbread house. Will you look at that perfection. Who needs windows and a snowy roof? I mean what more could you ask for, each side of the house is staying put. Apparently, that's good enough for us.

Santa Claus.

Santa Claus is such a crucial part of Christmas for little kids. In Mason's eyes he is the ONLY one bringing gifts. We never even made a big fuss over Santa, but he IS Christmas for Mason. I was excited that this year, Mason was old enough to get the notion behind the magic of this holiday. His exhilaration for Santa and reindeer and tree lights is endless. We had reservations for breakfast with the one and only - yup, pancakes with Santa Claus. Mason seemed pretty excited yet a little apprehensive to actually meet Santa. All fun and games when that big man in the red suit is just an abstract concept, a picture on the page of a book, ya know?

So breakfast with Santa approached last Saturday. Mr. Fancy pants one and two in their ties loaded up for a feast with the bearded man, Mason excited and Max having not the slightest clue of what was to come. A few mentions of "I'm going to ask Santa for ____" blurted from the backseat on the ride to eat, a few shrill screams from Max in regards to the tie he hated so much. Excitement abound.



When Santa finally came out, Mason was strangely uninterested. Max was paying so much attention to the chocolate chips sprinkled atop his stack of pancakes that a real reindeer standing on our table wouldn't have made for much distraction. I was a little bummed, no one even cared. Was I more excited than my children about Santa Claus? Apparently I was.



Max was less than thrilled. Completely distraught. Hysterical. He took one look back at the exhausted, characterless Santa Claus and lost himself. I couldn't help but laugh irritatingly and snap away, while my poor helpless toddler sat there reaching for help, desperate for his life. Mason stood back just watching it all, refusing to render aid to Max. I finally nudged him over towards Santa and he let out his famous, ear to ear grin just long enough for a picture. Then he briskly forfeited his space next to jolly (er...barely breathing) old, St. Nick. Max was bailed out of Santa's lap and we were done. Done with Santa.



So we like the idea of Santa Claus, sneaking in to our house while were all snuggled in bed, leaving lots of goodies beneath the tree. But meeting Santa, conversing with that man, no thank you.

first haircut.

We did it. Finally. We cut Max's hair! It was so long and starting to get a little unruly. I'm not sure how many times he was referred to as a precious, little, "she"...seriously people he is decked out in boy clothing - are you THAT confused? Clearly they were. We were so close to making it to the 1.5 year mark with out a snip, but we had to for the sake of him being able to see.



He wasn't thrilled to say the least. He refused to wear the smock, which resulted in a sprinkling of baby curls on the floor throughout the day. The first snip made my heart skip a beat and then I was all good. I know I sound ridiculously dramatic. He was totally rocking the baby mullet - rocking it well if I might add.

There's something about the first real haircut. It's the token from babyhood to childhood. It was bittersweet, but definitely time. Most of the cut went a little something like this.




Though we got a few of these.


I now know lollipops, bubbles and perhaps straight jackets were created for first haircuts. This pretty much sums up our trip. Curls snipped and a hairy Dum Dum.


We made it out alive. With some curls intact! Before we started, I asked numerous times if she thought he'd lose all his curls when she started cutting. She was really hesitant and didn't want to offer false hope, but said most babies do lose a lot of it. After the cut the stylist said she thinks he'll keep his curls since so much was hacked off and they were still unscathed.



A flashback of Mason's first cut. What a little munchkin he was. And are they seriously siblings - because I don't see it.

it's the most wonderful time of the year!

Footie jammie time that is. The weather has finally cooled down to where it's legal to bust these adorable, matching (why of course!), sleepwear out. And so we trekked to Carter's outlet and stocked up on some new, cozy, footed jammies.


It all started a few nights ago - it was chilly and I slipped Max in our sole pair of footies that still fit either munchkin. Mason saw them and the questions started coming. "Where are my jammies with feets like that?" "Am I too big for feet pjs now? I'm growing up so fast". The jammies Max was sporting were actually Mason's oldies, so yes, Mase, you're growing, so fast. He was really bummed that he didn't have any and I felt really guilty that I'd assumed he was too big and would refuse to wear them.At Carter's I grabbed a few different patterns, but kept holding them up out in front of me to look at. They looked so big and silly and I'll admit I tried to convince him in to some two piece sets that seemed like they were geared toward bigger kids. He wasn't buying it. Every time I said "How about these?" he quickly replied with "do they have the feet". So I caved I bought jammies with feet for my almost four year old. A four year old in footies? Of course. 4T footies, coming right up.

He was so excited last night to take his bath and zip up in his pair "just ilke Max's". He was thrilled to show Michael his new pj's with FEET. I have to admit after seeing how cozy they were all bundled up together on the couch, I was wondering if maybe they made maternity footies. Then I snapped back to reality.


They were both so enthralled with these enchanting sleepers. I knew the minute Mase flashed me his cheeser grin, that the 4T footies were the best purchase this season. It's the most wonderful time of the year - footie time.