Friday, March 11, 2011

what were up to.

Enjoying the sunshine.

Chalk and bubbles.
{Mason does most of the writing and drawing and chalking. Max is our chalk taste tester. Yum.}

More bubbles.

And more chalk.

Baby laundry. 

Little Gym and swim class. Movies and popcorn. Sometimes we stay in our pajamas until it's time to get in to a new pair. Sometimes we watch cartoons or movies all day long.

Eating as many ice pops as humanly possible in each sitting.

We are just soaking up our time together. Enjoying the days as they drag or fly by. Together. Anxiously awaiting our newest little man's arrival. Anticipating him, hoping he doesn't make us wait too much longer, but just long enough.

Our days are uneventful, but our weeks are full of fun.

Thursday, March 10, 2011

love me some max.

Oh Max - you are such a little pistol. You've earned yourself the hilariously fitting nickname "train wreck" from your Papa. You are a non-stop tornado. Lately I've caught myself reveling in your awesomeness. I constantly find myself thinking wow, this baby is a bad ass. I tell your father numerous times a day, how comical you make the afternoons. I love me some Max.

I mostly love you just because you are you. You make loving you pretty easy. But my favorite things, oh how could I ever start to count them.

I love your ability to be completely filthy five minutes after waking up perfectly clean. Any given meal time or playground outing pretty much guarantees a mess. I really don't like dirty kids, but you make dirty look good. It's only a matter of time at the breakfast table before yogurt is slung, oatmeal is run through you bed head and the fruit is on the floor. But I love that about you.

Your hands attract dirt at the playground. I really love the way your chubby hands meet your soft forearms to create a perfectly, delicious roll. And yes, I find myself wiping that roll clean of dirt almost hourly. You are a mess. A beautiful, playful, terror of a mess. And I love it.

I love the way you repeat the words mommy and daddy all day long. I've heard my name called out eleventy billion times before noon. You bounce through the house, waddling, running a tad off kilter, shrieking. Rehearsing in a sing songy tune - mommyyyyy, mommy, mommyyyyy. And if I didn't love your sugar coated voice I may have gone crazy by now.

I love the way you firmly tell me NO NO, loudly and sure of yourself. After you throw a train directly at your brother's head. I love the way your purse your lips when you discipline. I love the stern look in your eyes. The uncertainty of what will happen after your naughty little episode. It's so Max.

I love that bedtime kisses always guarantees a little tongue slippage. I really just love your tongue. The way you use it to say 'turtle' and fifteen other words that I've yet to decipher. You often use it to lick up a cheerio or goldfish you've placed on the floor. After each snack is successfully eaten you look up proudly and clap and giggle. Quite the character.

I love the way you fight a diaper change, putting on shoes and clothes and brushing your hair. Which is why most days you sport the birthday suit and a mangy mess of curls. Then some days all you want to wear is shoes while your naked. A perfect little train wreck.

I love the way you have to carry three things with you at all times. A train, a book, a ball - it really doesn't matter, so long as there are three of them. I've tried to convince you that two would be exponentially easier, since you know, you have TWO HANDS. I love the way you stubbornly lash out and insist that you carry all three. Maneuvering that the third object in your hand securely, never letting go. Determination.

I love the way you say cheese when you see my phone or camera come out. Automatically assuming I'm headed for a picture of you. I love the way you sit still for a book but not a movie. I love the way you cry at the pantry right after being fed. I love the way you stand before you throw things - your like a little ninja. I love the way you cock your head back to laugh from your belly. Oh, how I love your laugh. Lately you cover your sweet mouth with both your hands, tilt sideways and giggle for days. Over any little thing. You rarely do it unless I'm watching - it's like you know it's too cute to be done in solitude.

I love so much about you little man. You are one awesome baby.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

It's March!

Me: "Mason today is March 1st. Yay! Do you know what this means?"
(implying this is the month the baby will be here - thinking excitement will ensue in full force)
Mason: "Yes. We can wear Crocs everyday now. It's time for Crocs. March is for Crocs."
Me: "Ummm...yes, Crocs. And your new baby brother's birthday will be this month too! Isn't that exciting?"
Mason: "Yup. Better get him some Crocs though".

Awesome. I never thought I'd buy in to the Croc frenzy. I really never liked the way Crocs looked on anyone, but if parents liked Crocs for their kids and themselves so be it. However, so long as I had the power to choose my children's wardrobes I wouldn't dare buy a pair of them, especially not a real pair that was $22.00. Yeah, right. Then Mason saw a pair while running an errand - he must have been just two years old. They were Lighting McQueen Crocs. If there was anything worse than Crocs, it was licensed character Crocs. He loved them and I love him, so I bought them.

It's been all downhill since. We now have a rainbow of Crocs. Mason has them in almost every color, they are one pair of shoes Max doesn't fight tooth and nail to get on, they are a prized possession in this house. So happy March people, it's Croc season.