monkey see-monkey do.

Max is an observer. He's always paid very, very close attention to everyone, especially Mason. He's had this infatuation with his big brother for a long time, but now that he's incredibly mobile, he's acting on it. Hello copy cat. Max also has quite a little temper so when he can't climb a 4 foot tree and dangerously jump from the branch (after being told to please not do so) just like his brother, he gets pissed. Quickly and furiously. This is what I call zero to sixty. Both my children have this lovely personality trait. I have no idea who they inherited that from...cough, their father...cough.

Mason is full of energy and pizazz. I love that about him. But if Max follows every step his brother did and cues in ultimately shaping his own being- from Mason's doing. I'm going to be in trouble. Lots of trouble. I'm going to have my hands full, at least that's what everyone at Target, the grocery store, hell, everywhere I go says. You'd think I was babysitting sextuplets or something freakishly similar; not just taking my well behaved twosome on a simple outing when we go out. Maybe it's because I look like a fresh faced high school freshman? If Max chooses to continue this monkey-see, monkey-must-do NOW phase, people are going to really think, know I'm slowly slipping away to insanity.

The other day I was sorting through and putting away laundry upstairs. I had safely locked the boys upstairs with me. I even set Max in his crib, you know with lots of toys and entertainment to stay busy for as long as possible (read: 2 minutes, max). I was on a roll, I'd procrastinated nearly a week, meaning I had roughly 500 pieces of clothing to put in it's proper drawer, in two rooms. Sounds like an easy task right? It's eerily daunting. It comes close to the chore of emptying the dishwasher or cleaning a highchair of a newly self-fed toddler. Not fun.

All of the sudden from Max's room, I heard squeals. Squeals of delight. Prior to this noise, I'd heard...well absolutely nothing. Silence is never a good sound in this house, unless I am fully aware that my children are sleeping, at the same time, which rarely happens in this house. I should have known better. Should have. I stopped mid-glory of sorting 3T boxer briefs from 12 month jammie shorts and headed towards the nursery. They're happy, whatever they're doing is making them laugh and it was that contagious, from the very bottom of you belly, laugh. Don't ruin their fun. I kept repeating this in my 1 minute lunge to check what could be so extremely entertaining. They have the same laugh. Identical. I couldn't tell who the instigator of the laughing fit was, because as soon as one would stop to take a breath, the other would burst in to a continued bout of laughter. How bad could it be?

I opened the door and saw two little monkeys. Jumping on their bed. Oh excellent, Mason has not spent more than 48 hours of HIS LIFE in a crib. Yet he voluntarily climbed in with his content (probably calm) brother and taught him to JUMP up and down and shriek in his bed. Joy. It was pretty damn joyous. At least they thought so. Do you see Max's intense observation going on? He is fully studying how Mason is jumping with ease and clutching the crib rail, pondering his own successful execution of this trick. And isn't it fitting they happened to be in matching attire that morning? I thought so.


Within three minutes Max had busted his head on the railing. SEE, little monkey you are still too small to see and then do (quickly and without processing the consequences). I took full advantage of this situation--you know two kids already in the crib and suggested a nap, both of them, in the crib, because that would go over great and all. Mason voluntarily launched himself from the crib, similarly to a teenager hurdling a fence from a raided house party, and bee lined it to his Hot Wheel Track. That little (somedays big) monkey was not so in to following his baby brother's lead straight to the land of nod. Maybe next time.

Since this incident Max has continued to see and (attempt to) do, just what his big brother does. He clearly did not learn from his head-straight-to-crib-rail encounter. Looks like I'm headed for trouble. DOUBLE TROUBLE.

da boyz.

i always had a feeling that my kids would be boys. i love tutus, obnoxiously over-sized hairbows, smocked dresses from every walk of life, embellished tees, glittery ballet flats and those precious little pearl bracelets. so naturally i grew penises, double time; i mean that does make sense, right? apparently so.

when i was pregnant with mason i had no motherly instinct for gender. i took every gender quiz under the moon online and most of them pointed towards blue. that was confirmed at 24 weeks. HELLO TURTLE HEAD. that kid had an appendage and he was NOT shy about it. once he was born, i couldn't imagine not having a boy. the blue slowly took over my life, as hard as it was to find cute clothing, i searched high and low, alas i'd built an adorable wardrobe for my little boy blue. adorable in my opinion, which is all that matter, right?

a year and a half later we found out we were expecting again. yay. my motherly instinct was shot, again. yay. michael was SURE it was a boy; after all he only makes boys. i went back and forth toying with the idea of waiting until deuce was born to find out who he/she was. the minute they put the warm ultrasound jelly on my belly i knew i wasn't waiting 20 more long, agonizing weeks to know if i needed to stock up on tutus. surprise, another TURTLE HEAD. again, a baby with a third leg, who was NOT shy. i still remember finding out max was a boy, michael literally jumped for joy, like out of his seat in the ultrasound room. so much for "i really have no preference with this baby marce". apparently he did. he was so precious in that ultrasound, he was going to be another adorable boy.

max joined us late june of this year and they were right..he was a boy. i don't know why i'm so surprised still that i have TWO boys. i mean i always knew i'd have boys, brothers, little dinosaur loving, train fanatic, boys.

that's exactly what i got. boys.

sure i mourn the loss of those adorable tutus and smocked dresses. everytime i walk in to gap or gymboree i sigh at all the pink masses that i don't get to browse through. my checking account however sighs in relief, my husband too i'm sure.

but boys are fun. so incredibly fun. i never realized how lucky i'd be to be shopping in the understocked side of gap, to paint two nursery's two incredibly different shades of blue, and to not own a tutu (yet). i have boys. two beautiful son's. i feel like i own the world. i'm the luckiest person ever, to have these two boys call me mommy.