B is for...

Baseball!

Ok, really, T-Ball. Mase started T-ball two weeks ago and can I just say ONE THING - a four year old in baseball pants, oh be still my beating heart. *swoon* It may just be (one of) the cutest things I have ever laid my eyes on. Not only is the attire super delicious, Mason loves it and he's quite the stud on the field. He seems to be best at batting, but runs and slides a lot when it's time to play the field as well.

 

At his first game every time a family member would arrive to cheer him on, he would quickly and eagerly run to the sidelines and show everyone his batting gloves (he is the only four year old with batting gloves, because someone's daddy went overboard with the gear...) and hat. Then of course he did what he does best - flashed us his flawless smile, made some silly faces and ran back to play. I think this might be his sport!

 Big Boy Bike!!

He actually got one for Christmas, but it never really held any interest. First of all it was a blue bike, I mean I should have known to get green. Also, it didn't have pedals OR training wheels. It was a super cool developmentally appropriate bike where you learn to properly balance (you learn to glide then ride). Umm, yeah all that jazz wasn't flying for Mason. He wanted to RIDE and not GLIDE and ASAP. So we set out to Toys R Us and Mason picked a new, very green big boy bike!! He loves it and rode it for a whole hour the first day he got it.

He proudly gave his "little boy bike" to Max. I think he was pretty excited too. Except the peanut can't reach the pedals quite yet. Within ten minutes Max was fighting and whining to ride the big boy bike. He admired (and looked on jealously) Mason flying up and down our street. He ended up settling for running along side Mason all afternoon with the happiest belly laugh I've heard.

Baby toes!

Oh who doesn't love baby feet? We kiss these little toes daily. Maybe even hourly. Alexander has big feet and long skinny toes and I want to eat them up!

Boots!

All Max wants to do is walk around in rain boots.  ALL.DAY. EVERY.DAY.  If you know Max, you know he gets his way. So, boots it is.

B is the letter of the week around here.

Alexander Quinn.

 He's here! He's here! Our newest baby boy has arrived and we are all head over heels.

Alexander Quinn arrived March 16 - at 2:34 pm.

His birth was the quickest yet. He was born with a head full of black hair which has earned him (lovingly by mama) the nickname fuzzy wuzzy. He really is the fuzziest little newborn on the block. And perhaps the most darling. He has a temper like his daddy and lets us all know when he isn't satisfied. His cry is pitiful and his lips are luscious.

Both of his big brothers are totally taken with him - Maximo especially. He wants to hold him ALL day long. He walks around our house saying "baby" nonstop. It's really cute.

Mason really likes to hold him and tells everyone that his baby's name is "Alexander" after a few minutes, he'll then tell them "but you can call him Alex...or Zander". We do not ever call him Zander, but that's Mason for ya. Creative and crazy. Mason constantly asks if he can kiss him. Between the two he's getting enough loving and an early lesson in never being left alone.

He sleeps all day. Parties all night. Has the sweetest pair of pouty lips that I spend a large quantity of time kissing. His tongue is perfection, he smacks it constantly and is one of the noisiest babies I've ever met. Every single sound he makes is hilarious and adorable. Can you tell we love us some teenys?

After months of debating and not agreeing we chose the most beautiful name. A name that holds great meaning, a name that shines. Shines as brightly as our new little man. Alexander Quinn.

We feel so lucky, so blessed, and so happy he's arrived. Safely, loved and fitting right in. Just like we knew he would. The best little brother we could ask for. Alexander, welcome to our family. We are so glad you are ours. You complete us sweet baby.

Alexander, we love you so! Happy birthday nugget!!

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.

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.

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.