butter family picnic

Movin' on...Over?

2010-04-06T17:34:00.002-04:00

So, for right now, I've decided to post updates on the Tumblr version of Butter Family Picnic. So if you want hard-hitting news like what Eliot wore on Easter, or what I'm using to brush my teeth, head on over HERE.

Prepare Yourselves

2010-03-31T12:00:00.003-04:00

Okay, after some investigating, I think I might be able to make this Tumblr thing work for me. Get ready, we might just be moving...

Welcome Home!

2010-03-30T19:32:00.003-04:00

Today little Miss Violet is finally coming home. I can only imagine how grateful and excited her parents must feel today. It’s been a long time coming, little girl. Welcome home.

Shameless Spouse Promotion - Again.

2010-03-30T17:03:00.002-04:00

Be there.

Tumb-ling?

2010-03-30T16:22:00.002-04:00

I have not abandoned this blog. Well, not completely anyway. I just have not really be feeling it. Maybe it was winter. Maybe it was just 2009. Maybe I'm just a little lazy. Something.

I have been checking out the possibilities at Tumblr, and I'm strongly considering moving the blog over there. I mean, just take a look at what Butter Family Picnic might look like over there. Lovely right? Now I just have to figure out how to move all my old content over there (might not be possible yet) and what the best way would be to help all of you find me in the future.

Anyone have any experience with either of these? Comments welcome!

Modest

2010-02-26T15:55:00.004-05:00

Sometime past midnight, Eliot wakes up crying, the result of a bad dream. Ripped out of sleep and confused, I stumble into his room to find him sitting up in bed, crying.

He takes one look at me standing there in a t-shirt and stops crying long enough to say: "Put some clothes on!"

EAT!

2010-01-03T21:36:00.002-05:00

If I have to cook one more mother loving fish stick, so help me.

We are in a rut. Eliot's preferred diet consists of the following: Pirate Booty (all flavors), apples, clementines, fruit leathers (all flavors), yogurt, applesauce, carrots, toast with butter or jam, raisins, couscous, occasional cheese, Kashi Honey Sunshine cereal, milk, and fish sticks. So many goddamn fish sticks.

Of course, it's my responsibility as his mother to feed him a proper balanced diet. It's really me that's in the rut, I just kept feeding him things I knew he would eat, not wanting a fight on the food front. But I can take it no more. I've made a little headway by introducing a morning smoothie into the routine that contains fruit, yogurt, milk, and flax seed (if I remember). I'm planning on sneaking some spinach in the mix and telling him it will make him green like the Hulk.

In an attempt to expand his palette, I've been including samples of our dinner on his plate for the past few evenings with very limited success. Actually, it might be more accurate to report these attempts as failures. He takes the most minuscule taste (as in, it touched his tongue for a tenth of a millisecond) of veggie burger or avocado and he will loudly announce with a look of disgust, "I do not like it!"

Sigh.

I really don't want to give him nutrition by sneaking vitamins into brownies or whatever deceptive means being currently recommended by certain celebrity wives. I would really like him to actually acquire a life-long love of eating flavorful, healthy food. But right now, I'm feeling a little desperate.

Moms of picky eaters, help!

Holiday Cheer

2010-01-01T12:30:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year

2009-12-31T20:53:00.003-05:00

I thought I should try and get one more post in for 2009.

New Year's Eve has always been one of my least favorite holidays. Aside from the plentiful availability of a variety of delicious dips, I could never get over the pressure of having to have the best night ever! and was relieved to find out that as a parent there is absolutely no pressure to have any fun whatsoever ever again.

So we're staying in. Eliot is snuggled in bed (though whether or not he is asleep is uncertain). We have wine and chocolate covered pretzels, which for me qualifies any night for the best night ever. We're going to watch The Hangover and I'm hoping I laugh at least until we have to pause it so I don't literally pee my pants.

For all my friends, family, and readers, I hope that you are all safe and warm and with at least some of those you love tonight. Here's to another year!

Better late than never

2009-12-03T10:38:00.004-05:00

I sort of started a tradition of posting photos of Eliot atop a pumpkin at Halloween; that is, I suppose, if you consider doing it twice a tradition. As a result of my unexplainable break from blogging, the tradition has been deferred until now.

So here he is:
And there he was in 2008:

And look at this kid in 2007:

And in case you were curious, he dressed as Frankenstein on the big day:

He actually ended up looking more like just the torso and head of Frankenstein, but he had fun nonetheless. Apparently our neighborhood is the place to trick-or-treat, so we only had to walk a few blocks before his plastic pumpkin was nearly full. He was more interested in the decorations and other kids' costumes than the candy, so we (we? Maybe more like I) helped him out and consumed most of his bounty. In two days. Sometimes being a mother involves a lot of sacrifice.

Chat Stew

2009-12-01T16:57:00.006-05:00

I know we still have almost three months left, but so far, this kid's year two is not so terrible.

Saying that Eliot is a verbal child would be a gross understatement. I am not really exaggerating when I tell people that he talks from the moment he wakes up until he falls asleep at night. He even talks in his dreams. He narrates his day, he asks a million trillion questions per hour, he creates funny voices for his toys, he makes up songs and stories. He is most definitely my child.

We are amazed daily by the complexity of his thoughts. His correct use of phrases. For example, "Mommy, that's not a real word, it's just a figure of speech". A figure of speech. Of course, I know that I have used this same explanation for him when attempting to clarify idiomatic expressions. But to hear it coming from his tiny toddler mouth completely floors me.

He uses words like 'cooperate' and 'gigantic'. He's constantly playing around with new vocabulary. He makes words up when he's felling silly. And he's great at naming people. His current best imaginary friends are Avin and Axon Bagega. And then there's his pumpkin named Mr. MacGreganton.

Along with the explosion in vocab, Eliot's imagination has taken off. In just one day, he might inhabit the skin of the Hulk, a doctor, a daddy, spiderman, a prince, a witch, a pirate, and a scarecrow. And that's before lunch. It's no easy task to keep up with him. "Okay, Hulk," I'll say, "let's go potty," to which he will respond, "I'm not Hulk, Mommy, I'm Doctor Hulk". A real renassaince man. Hulk smash osteoperosis!

So instead of dreading the possible Fucking Threes, as I've heard them called, I'm going to revel in this time right now. Yes, we have tantrums, often a result of tiredness or hunger, and more recently related to his aversion to getting dressed. But they are short lived, and within 5 minutes we're usually laughing about something else. He keeps us on our toes, constantly testing our knowledge (and occasionally our patience) and making us realize how much there is to discover and how infinitely amazing life can be. We're learning right along with him.

Thank god for Google.

Travelin'

2009-11-19T17:30:00.002-05:00

If I updated this blog with any sort of regularity you would know that Eliot and I have driven from Pittsburgh to St. Louis 3 times since we moved north. Solo. While Google Maps would have you believe this is a simple 9.5 hour jaunt, we generally clock in at the 11.5 to 12 hour mark. Many have called me crazy. And I tend to feel pretty crazy around hour 10.75. But we have so far survived all three round-trips (that's 6, count 'em six individual journeys) without too much long-term damage. We are gearing up for our fourth such excursion for Thanksgiving, and I thought since many of us are planning travel with toddlers for the holidays I might share some of the lessons Eliot and I have learned on our adventures.

Food, food, snacks, and more food
Be prepared. Especially if you are the only adult in charge. I pack E-size portions of all of his favorite snacks, as well as some that are in the 'special' category. Like lollipops. And M&Ms. While I don't usually advocate sugar as a means to avoid a melt-down, desperate times call for desperate measures. I don't know how many times I've saved myself from whipping over to the shoulder to threaten to Turn this car around right this minute young man! by simply offering some snacks. Surprisingly, fruit leather usually works just as well as the sugary stuff, but it pays to have back-up.

Toys, books, and gasp! DVDs
I bought an over-the-lap tray for Eliot's car seat, so he is able to color, 'sticker' (yes, we're using that as a verb now), and eat without too much trouble. I also try and pack some favorite books and some brand new ones from the library. In addition to his own toys, which I pack in a plastic shoe box with a lid in hopes of containment (prepare for a major toddler explosion all over the backseat of your vehicle), I also invest in some inexpensive but time consuming new toys to present when boredom sets in. For us, Playmobil guys are the best - they have one million pieces, which he loves (and you'll be enjoying finding for years to come) and he gets really engrossed in figuring out which parts come off, and then interchanging their stuff with his existing Playmobil guys. And a one or two guy pack only costs a few dollars, which is worth it for us.

In order to avoid overwhelming him, every so often I'll make a suggestion, "Eliot, would you like to color?" or something similar and then hand back the crayons and a coloring book. When we have potty stops, etc., I try and do a quick backseat clean up/re-org so he doesn't feel like he's playing in a toy landfill.

And the DVDs would be best discussed in our next section:

It's okay to break some rules
Normally we don't frequent fast food restuarants. Normally we don't eat candy all day long. Normally we don't watch hours upon hours of television/DVDs. Normally we don't hand out presents every couple of hours unless it's Christmas.

But this is not a normal situation. This is a situation in which you are trapped in a either car or on a plane with a very small person who has very little patience, and no clear concept of how time works. You are trapped. Your only escape is your destination. I knew we were in for a long day of driving recently when Eliot asked, "Are we almost there yet?" 20 minutes into a 12 hour trip. Being prepared means everyone lives.

So, what I'm saying is, yes, have lots of enriching activities planned. But don't be ashamed to put on back-to-back DVDs when you need to focus on driving, or when you are going a little crazy as well. And it's okay to stop at the Golden Arches so that the kid can run off a little steam in the cootie-infused playland, just give them a hand-sanitizer bath afterward. I've even bought a happy meal and asked for 'just apples'. I know, I'm square, but he thought it was the bees knees that he got a box with apple slices and a crappy toy in it.

I think that it's okay for your kids to have treats (food and otherwise), especially if you are trying to sell this trip as an experience that they'll remember for the rest of their lives. How great it was that they got to do all these special 'off-limits' things because you were on a trip. How their parents didn't scream or fight and everyone rode a rainbow colored sugar high all the way to Grandmother's house.

Don't forget about the driver/navigator
So treat yourself to a little This American Life or a book on tape on the mp3 in the front seat. And you deserve that triple latte from the drive-thru at a certain green-logoed coffee seller. After all, you have to keep your strength up for the drive.

Famous

2009-11-18T16:00:00.003-05:00

Check out Cara's amazing and thrifty decorating skills on Ohdeedoh! What little girls wouldn't love this room?

Potty Bandit

2009-11-18T09:33:00.002-05:00

What He's Into

2009-11-16T22:48:00.005-05:00

Capes
Rain boots
Wearing as little as possible, excepting capes and rain boots
Running everywhere at top speed
Talking constantly, even while sleeping
'Guys'
Superheroes
'Quiet Time' in place of regular napping
Sleeping in until 9 a.m.
Witches, goblins, skeletons, and banshees
CANDY!
Fruit leather
Laughing hysterically as often as possible
Daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy
Pirates
Little Bear
Olivia the Pig
Shel Silverstein
Charlotte's Web
'Fudge' from Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing
Self-created "Cool, cool tricks!" involving hurling oneself onto furniture
Coloring and drawing
Narrating, as in, "Don't jump on the sofa!" said Father Bear
Pretending
Taking walks
Peeing in the potty standing up
Poop/pee/butt jokes
Playmobil
Pretending to sleep
Playing 'Hop-si-tal' as both the doctor and the patient
Making up stories and words
Using words like 'actually' and 'unfortunately' in casual conversation
Learning U.S. presidents
Asking one million questions per hour

Happiness

2009-07-02T14:35:00.002-04:00

Old School

2009-06-29T19:40:00.003-04:00

I stumbled across this picture of Eliot from just before his first birthday. It makes me laugh every time.

Sandside

2009-06-24T17:00:00.001-04:00

While I realize that I have not been a very prolific blogger recently, I thought it only fair to tell you that the Butters are on vacation on the eastern shore this week, and will hopefully return with lots of photos, and only 8th degree sunburns.

From the depths

2009-06-16T19:55:00.002-04:00

In an attempt to work as much as humanly possible given my other job as Grower and Nurturer of Eliot, I have neglected my blog. I will likely continue this trend until next week when we are on sweet, sweet vacation at the b-e-a-c-h. Hang tight everybody, I will post pictures of your most favorite Butter soon.

I wanna hold your hand

2009-06-03T20:13:00.004-04:00

Eliot is a born traveler.

320 stickers, 15 library books, 4 lollipops, 5 packs of 'fruit' snacks, 2 bags of Veggie Booty, one portable DVD player, 2 oranges, 4 strawberries, 3 bananas, and 5 iced coffees equals an 11 hour solo driving trip with a two year old.

And we survived.

And dare I say it? It was fun. We had fun. A lot of it.

And that was just the drive. We had a week of lots of family, friends, and ice cream cones. In 6 days we managed to see: Jonah, Lucy, Emmett, Parris, Bronte, Lila, Rosalie, Sylvia, Easton, William, Christina, Madeline, Ruby, and Henry. Those were just Eliot's friends. And sadly we didn't have enough time to see everyone we would have liked.

There was a lot of hand holding:

Eliot and Lucy.

Bronte, Eliot, and Parris.

Eliot and Ruby.

The trip itself seemed to mature Eliot. He was up for anything. He started noticing and playing WITH his friends instead of beside or against them. He shared.

Part of me felt like we never left St. Louis. But something was missing. Oh yeah- it was Justin. We both missed him. A lot. And I even missed Pittsburgh a little.

Eliot and I survived the drive home with as much ease as the first trek and I feel confident that it's a trip we can take again. As soon as I replenish my stockpile of lollipops.

Lovely

2009-06-02T12:29:00.001-04:00

Eliot and I were having lunch outside yesterday when he looked at me and said, "Mommy, we are beautiful. The whole wide world is beautiful."

In that moment, I had no choice but to agree.

Still Alive

2009-05-29T09:54:00.003-04:00

Eliot and I just returned from a whirlwind 7-day, 1200 mile roundtrip adventure to St. Louis. Here's a picture of Eliot holding our brand new baby cousin Madeline to tide you over until I can tell you more....

The Caped Crusader

2009-05-18T10:45:00.003-04:00

Costume design by Eliot Visnesky.

Please excuse my heavy breathing - I ran down and up 3 flights of stairs to grab the camera in order to capture this amazingness.

Mini Update

2009-05-11T15:51:00.002-04:00

How to have the best birthday/Mother's Day weekend:

Plan to sleep in and wake up early and refreshed instead
Snuggle in bed with your boys
Let Eliot open your presents
Eat Indian food at every available opportunity
Stop for a drink at an outdoor patio when you are supposed to be running errands
Eat homemade chocolate cake with peanut butter icing
Watch cousins play
Eat lots of white bread with butter
Drink good wine
Repeat

Suzy Homemaker

2009-04-30T18:26:00.008-04:00

Last week before the incident, I went into kind of a baking frenzy. I made, from scratch, for the first time ever, homemade (did I mention they were also handmade?) bread rolls. With yeast. AND FLOUR.

After hours of rising, they are ready for the oven.

The finished product.

There is nothing more satisfying that watching your child enjoy something you worked hard to make!

We also had a huge crop of brown bananas that I didn't want to banish to the back of the freezer with false hopes of bread and muffins, so I set to work. I went a little overboard and ended up with about 2 dozen muffins, far more than our little family could eat. I put them in a container on the counter and Justin took some to work to share. I should have just put the leftovers in the freezer.

And then we were invaded and I had to empty my pantry to protect our dry goods. I tried my best to 'organize' all the remaining food, but was forced to stack some things. And I forgot about the muffins. Until now:

Muffins anyone?

What a cute little bunny! I mean, what? I know it's kind of a hard to see in this picture (I'm still figuring out my camera) but this muffin seems to have sprouted a little cotton tail. It looks like actual hair. It's gross, I know, but at least I'm not posting a picture of a RAT BIGGER THAN A KITTEN.

Rat(s)!

2009-04-27T17:17:00.010-04:00

Justin came up from the kitchen the other night, visibly distressed.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I think, uhh...I think I saw something. Like an animal. In the kitchen. It ran into the pantry."

Apparently, he was standing at the sink washing a dish when he saw a flash of fur out of the corner of his eye. Whatever it was slipped under the 1/2 inch space between the closed pantry door and the floor. The two of us raced down to the kitchen and I flung open the pantry door only to HEAR something scuttling and then SEE an ENORMOUS, HUMONGOUS, GIGANTIC brown animal quickly burrow behind the toolbox sitting on the floor. I screamed like a little girl and Justin and I jumped onto the counter top. And I proceeded to talk myself out of barfing.

We were living with an unidentified mammal. I prayed it was a miniature horse or a cuddly kitten. But it was BIGGER THAN A KITTEN. A lot bigger. Did you just read that? IT WAS BIGGER THAN A KITTEN.

I immediately called our landlord Lindsay, who lives in an apartment connected to the house, to explain that the shrieks she likely heard through the walls were not Justin murdering me, but the result of my not completely seeing a horrible thing in our pantry - something that was very likely going to get out of there and bite us with it's horrible pointy diseased teeth.

Unfortunately, it was around 11:00 p.m., so there wasn't much Lindsay could really do, so we stuffed some towels under the pantry door and went to bed. And then I stuffed a towel in the crack under Eliot's door to be safe. I really love my baby's face, and I didn't want some unidentified thing that was BIGGER THAN A KITTEN to eat it off.

Here's the thing: Justin and I have lived in places where mice were frequent visitors. We didn't love living with rodentia, but we could somewhat calmly do what needed to be done to get them out of our house (and into mouse heaven). When we lived above the coffeeshop (sorry to all of you patrons who know the place I'm talking about and frequently consume food and beverages there) the place was somewhat overrun with very cute, but very mousy mice. We kept all of our dry food in plastic bins with lids to make our kitchen less attractive. The poison behind the appliances didn't hurt either.

But this thing, this animal in our house, the one in the room with all of our food? This thing that was BIGGER THAN A KITTEN? I couldn't wait for poison to maybe go into effect, or for some tiny little trap to maybe break one of it's disgusting little animal fingernails. My baby's face was in jeopardy. We needed expert intervention, so I sent a link to Lindsay and prayed that what we actually saw in the pantry was an Armadillo.

Pete the Exterminator showed up the next day during a playdate with our new friends from the neighborhood, Kim and her son Whistle. Nothing makes a better first impression than an exterminator coming to trap a filthy, plague-ridden animal during your first hang session. I held my breath as he opened the pantry door. The homemade rolls I made before the 'sighting' were half eaten and there were crumbs and cereal everywhere. One of the plastic tubs housing some rice and pasta was opened. The lid was off. As in, the thing BIGGER THAN A KITTEN opened it, which suggested to me that it had evolved and developed opposable thumbs.

Pete guessed it was probably a rat and noted that he didn't think we had an infestation as there were no droppings. He set some super-size traps brimming with a rat feast in the pantry and basement and told me to check them at least every 24 hours and call his cell if we caught anything.

And then of course, nothing happened for a couple of days. We checked the traps a few times a day, only half hoping that there would be something to call Pete about. Yay! if we caught it, but, then, ewww, dead animal. Yes, I'm sorry animal lovers, these were lethal traps. Especially since becoming a parent, I have a zero tolerance policy when it anything that has a history of wiping out a third of the population of a continent.

This entire time I have been avoiding the pantry and basement (you have to pass through the pantry to get to the basement) at all costs. Justin has been the primary trap checker, I suppose in a valiant effort to protect his family and all of our faces. We had to take all of our salvageable food out of the pantry so there was really no need for me to go in there. Sadly, my cloth diapers had been mildewing in the washer since the initial fur sighting and this morning I decided I had to buck up and save them.

The first four traps were empty. The one closest to the dryer looked like some of the food was gone, but there wasn't anything trapped in it. It was in a darker corner of the basement, and as I was reaching for the cord to turn the overhead bulb on, I noticed some, well, there's no other word to describe it, I saw some squirts. I initially thought these 'squirts' were some sort of rodent bait liquid that Pete had with his treasure trove of lures. But it wasn't. It was blood. And possibly some guts. Then I saw the tail. And then I saw it. THE RAT BIGGER THAN A KITTEN.

That's when I bolted up the stairs and committed myself to never again going in the basement.

Pete came by before Eliot's nap to empty the trap. He went downstairs to assess the situation and when he came back up, he said, "That's one of the biggest rats I've ever seen. And I've seen a lot of rats." He estimated its length to be at least 10 inches long. Sans tail. He said it was too big for the trap, and that's why it the scene was so gruesome, what with the splatter and the entrails. Reader, it was literally as big as a prairie dog. It was bigger than a squirrel. It was one of the biggest rats a professional exterminator has ever seen. That is pretty fucking big.

THE RAT BIGGER THAN A KITTEN is gone, but I still don't feel totally at ease. Pete said he couldn't figure out how a rat that size got into the house in the first place. Lindsay came over to check the perimeter and she didn't see any obvious ways in either. I'm really hoping that this was a fluke. That it somehow ran in while I was bringing groceries in and had my back turned. Right? Right? I just have to be extra careful and this will never ever happen again.

Right?

Before and After

2009-04-22T17:44:00.004-04:00

Our first hair war recently ended. Eliot was adamant that he would not, under any circumstances, consent to a haircut. Not if chocolate chips were involved, not if a professional hair stylist came to our house, not if Na did it, not if Mommy did it, not if there were M&Ms, not if he was asleep.

No, No, No, NO! was all we were hearing on the subject.

I took the advice of a mother in my Hip Mamas group and scheduled an appointment for him at Little Snips. I have been a little hesitant to go to a place like this due to the amount of chaos usually associated with a place that caters to children who otherwise will not allow their hair to be trimmed. The kind of place with one million televisions and kitchy barber 'chairs' in the shape of cars, etc. Also, I had a hard time with the idea of paying more than a few bucks for a haircut for our 2 year old. But his persistence in the NO! department convinced me to re-think my strategy.

So with the promise of a lollipop for each hand, Eliot softened. Though he reminded me the whole way there that he did not like haircuts. "No! I do not like them!" I assured him that this place was going to be AWESOME and he had nothing to fear. And I reminded him that the lollipops would be flowing like water.

When we arrived he seemed pretty excited, and I decided to give him the suckers to distract him during the haircut, even though I was risking hairy candy. We all have to make sacrifices, right? He immediately started melting down when he realized that I was going to actually allow someone near him with scissors; fortunately the mini T.V. conveniently 6 inches from his face started showing Yo Gabba Gabba. And then he was putty in Kristy the hair-stylist's hands.

Before

After!

Baking tips

2009-04-22T14:30:00.003-04:00

First rule of baking:
Never talk to your sister on the phone when you are supposed to be very closely following a bread dough recipe.

Second rule of baking:
Don't attempt to pull the muffins out of the oven while talking to your sister on the phone. The phone will always fall in the oven.

Third rule of baking:
Never assume that a recipe is 'easy'. It really never is.

The Canadian Contingent

2009-04-20T22:05:00.008-04:00

My cousin Emily and I were pen-pals for much of our childhood and early adolescence. She grew up in rural Nova Scotia, Canada, and I grew up in the more urban St. Louis. We only saw each other in person maybe 3 times our entire childhoods - once when we were about Eliot's age (my grandfather has 8 mm footage of the two of us at the St. Louis Zoo), once when we were about 8 or 9, and the last time when we were around 13. After that, we only had our letters, and the very rare phone call, as it cost about $2,000 to call Canada back then. Or some other outrageous amount, otherwise the two of us would have been on the phone all day and night, talking about the torture that was loving boys who didn't love us, the unfairness of braces, or how the Smiths were far superior to Guns N Roses. For the record, I was with Moz and the boys.

Sometime during high school, we both became self-obsessed as is the normal order of things and our letters eventually stopped. There were random phone calls here and there at Christmas and we'd hear reports through our parents or grandparents as to what the other was doing. It wasn't until we were bona fide adults that we reconnected; Emily and her husband Duncan and 4 month old baby, Dexter, came to St. Louis to celebrate our grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary.

And we picked up where we left off. We blamed our parents for keeping us apart when they so obviously should have been sending us to live with the other every summer. They were cruel and heartless and we would not allow an international border to keep us from seeing each other now that we were adults with money and passports.

We did well keeping up our promises for awhile. I was there at the beginning and end of her last pregnancy, and I found out I was pregnant with Eliot in her bathroom on Wolfe Island. She came and took care of all of us after Eliot was born, helping me with breastfeeding, and bouncing, and swaddling; baking us cookie bars and making pizza dough from scratch.

And then of course, life continued to happen, Emily started her PhD, we were (are?) all poorer than poor, and our visits had to take a break. Thankfully we had the email, Google Chat, and unlimited calling plans. We stayed in touch. We tried. Plane tickets were purchased and reservations were canceled due to house-mergencies and Lew's unexpected hospitalization.

But finally, finally! We were together again. We are now only an 8 hour drive away, as opposed to 15. Make that 20 with kids in tow. At least. So Emily very bravely decided to drive the three boys into town this weekend. It was crazy. And dirty. And chaotic. And so so so fun.

Dexter, age 7.

Neville, age nearly 5.

Lewis, age 2.75

Eliot, age 2.

The Round Up:

Pounds of food consumed: 173(mostly by Lew)
Rings of boy dirt in the tub: 4
Times Baby Dilbert faced an untimely demise: 372
Pizzas made from scratch: 2
Waffles made and eaten: 27
Vacuum cleaners fallen in love with: 1
Snow balls (cones) enjoyed: 7
More days I wish they could have stayed: at least 5

I was waiting for the other Easter

2009-04-20T18:46:00.011-04:00

Because, as you all know, if there is any word to describe me, it would be ORTHODOX.

When asked what the Easter Bunny would be bringing, Eliot very authoritatively responded every time, "Paper clips, a lollipop, n&m's (m&m's), and a bunny balloon." We have absolutely no idea where the paper clips idea came from, but he was unwavering in his commitment that the E.B. would, without a doubt, grace his Easter basket with the little document-wranglers.

We spent the weekend with Justin's family, our first Easter with them in probably six years.

Dying eggs and making cookies at Aunt Courtney's.

Ava works quality control.

A sampling of the Bounty of the Bunny.

Egg-hunting and cuteness-ing.

Look at me! I'm flying a kite! First time ever!

A very rare cousins photo where everyone is looking at or near the camera. And no one is crying. And yes, my child is holding a watering can and scrub brush. Is there something strange about that?

It was a really lovely day. Eliot enjoyed a steady stream of sugary treats and weathered his crashes by cuddling in my lap until someone offered him a cookie or chocolate. I thought sure he'd wake up the next morning begging for lollipops and n&m's but it was surprisingly business and usual. For me? Not so much. I'm still hiding candy from myself. Apparently I'm really good at finding things though, so it's kind of a losing battle.

Logical

2009-04-15T19:50:00.001-04:00

Me: "Eliot, what are you looking for?"

Eliot, peering into his sleeve: "I looking for a robot arm."

Me: "Did you find one?"

Eliot: "Well...maybe not."

Eliot the Grouch

2009-04-09T13:57:00.004-04:00

Yes, this is the diaper pail. Please know that it was sanitized just prior to the snapping of this photo.

Art Show! Johnstown.

2009-04-08T18:05:00.009-04:00

Justin brought H E R E and T H E R E to Pennsylvania a couple of weeks ago. It was the first time some in Justin's family were able to see his work in a gallery setting. The Cousins (as they will from now on be referred to) immediately discovered the drum kit and cuted the owner into handing over his sticks. Their sound could be classified as 'noise rock' or 'experimental' or just 'ow'. After the kids headed off to Na's house we enjoyed some adult beverages and partied all the way until 11 p.m. Enjoy some photographic evidence.

For our next number...

Justin and Mike Worful, friend and photographer. All the way from St. Louis.

For even more pictures, you can check out Jacob Kestler's site The Daily Camera. We left prior to the cross-dressing, which just goes to show, everything fun happens after the parents leave.

Tag! We're it!

2009-04-08T17:47:00.005-04:00

But so not in a fun, playful, childhood wonderfulness kind of way:

Apparently 13 year old hooligans in the making wanted to welcome us to our new city. The Geek Gang, at least that's what we've been referring to them as they sprayed (in brown!) the letters G and K. Lame. Why couldn't this guy spray paint my car? We called the police in the off-chance that this was the tag of some known and highly sought after felon, but instead we were told, "Time to move to the suburbs." Apparently this officer is not the official ambassador for Pittsburgh.

Fortunately for me, I am married to man who is magic and was able to get most of the damage off with soap and water. Oh, and his skin:

I'm taking all that elbow (or wrist, as it were) grease as a little love letter to me. Or possibly the Volvo. In either case, thank you Butter.

Excuse me, I must have tweeted

2009-04-03T15:35:00.002-04:00

I finally caved to peer pressure and got a Twitter account. I've added it to the right toolbar (toolbar? what is that called, that part on the right, where the stuff is, with the ads? you know what I'm talking about) in case you are interested. I'm going to mostly try and post cute things Eliot says, or in the case of this afternoon, things he does like, oh, say, barfs all over both of us in the middle of the grocery store. Right in front of a bunch of people enjoying their lunches in the cafe. Two words: Craisins and blueberries. Did I mention he ate those things for lunch - YESTERDAY? How is that possible?

For serious fans

2009-03-25T09:53:00.002-04:00

Last week when Danielle and Ava were here we went thrifting for kids' stuff and I bought Eliot a couple of puzzles, one of which has Santa Claus on it and cost a whopping fifty cents. It was the best money I've ever spent, as he is OBSESSED with doing this puzzle over and over and over and well, over. And now he can do it all by 'meself' as he says.

So nice had to do it twice

2009-03-24T14:24:00.006-04:00

Thankfully we bought a membership to the Children's Museum. My sister-in-law Courtney and nephew Riley came down for the weekend and Riley wanted to go, where else? the awesomest place in the 'burgh. Eliot was more than happy to oblige. I give you Part Two of the Week of Fun.

Mr. Rogers watches to make sure everyone plays nice.

Riley tries out the super fast slide.

As does Aunt Courtney. Turns out it's even faster for adults.

Cleaning up after another studio session.

Eliot takes to the open road.

The cutest photo of the day.

And he's out.

This post will help you make the decision to move to PIttsburgh

2009-03-20T13:24:00.011-04:00

Danielle and Ava came down for the day and we headed over to The Children's Museum. Eliot and I checked it out a few weeks ago, but we only scratched the surface in terms of exploring all the place has to offer.

Basically, it's bananas. Off the chain. O.O.C. Bonkers.

There is so much to do. We spent nearly five hours there and probably only made it to half of the exhibits. Everything is completely hands on. Both kids had an absolute blast. Danielle and I had fun watching them play and explore, and we were completely and totally exhausted by the time we left.

The 'Nursery' is completely toddler friendly. There was lots of actual nursing going on as moms of toddlers and newborns hung out and chatted. There is a super-sized Light Bright wall. Eliot spent some time viciously ripping pegs out of smaller toddlers hands. Good times.

Eliot was really into all the puppets and marionettes and insisted that I take pictures of many of them. His favorite was the Tin Man:

In case you were wondering, he can totally say 'marionette'.

Ava was really into this birdseed table. She must have happily played here for 40 minutes while Eliot bounced all over the place like a pinball.

There's a huge art studio where kids can paint, screenprint, and make paper, collages, and block prints. It's incredible. Eliot went right to work on a couple of painted masterpieces while Ava went for volume and tried everything.

So that's what paint tastes like.

We headed to the third floor waterplay area and the kids suited up. Ava was all ready to go in her galoshes, but lucky for Eliot they provide rubber shoes for all the kids. Fingers crossed he doesn't end up with athlete's foot.

They spent the rest of the visit splashing around.

No visit would be complete without a book or two.

My only complaint about Pittsburgh so far, other than the coldness of some native Pittsburghers, is that all of the attractions are really expensive. As in, they cost anything at all, which is the opposite of the Free Zoo, Free Science Centre, Free Art Museum, and Cheap Botanical Garden (free to us when Justin worked there) we had in St. Louis. Nothing is free here, and free days are apparently rare and completely crowded and overwhelming. So instead of complaining, we bought a membership so we can go a couple of times a month. Or in our case, twice in three days, as my sister-in-law Courtney and nephew Riley are coming down tomorrow to go where else? The Children's Museum.

Enough said...

2009-03-17T21:56:00.002-04:00

My sister-in-law Danielle blogged Eliot's birthday here. Please check it out and be sure to click on the picture of Eliot losing his marbles over Bert and Ernie. His face is priceless. Also note Justin going in for the high five and getting denied. That went on for several frames, but there is only so much space on the web for embarrassing pictures.

World's Shortest Parade

2009-03-15T15:40:00.004-04:00

We drove to Justin's hometown about an hour north of Pittsburgh this weekend to relax. The town's main street was host to a St. Patrick's day parade, so we walked down from his mom's place to check it out. 4 minutes later, it was over and Eliot and his cousins were left on the curb, covered in confetti and candy drool. Okay, maybe Eliot was the only one with the drool. He even had his first lollipop, something I was trying to postpone until he was 23. Let's just say my rules have relaxed considerably when it comes to visits with the cousins. We have a new rule in the Butter family: What happens at Na's stays at Na's.

The parade was long gone at this point.

Riley and Ava fling confetti while Eliot adores his lolly.

A rare photo of Eliot and his mother.

Later in the weekend, Eliot went shopping with Na and returned with the mother-load. Handy Manny? He doesn't even know who he is, but he HAD TO HAVE HIM. Mostly because he has lots of small tools begging to get lost. And he talks. Eliot wants to sleep with him (along with the rest of toy-kind) and I can just picture being jarred awake at 3 a.m. when he rolls over and Manny announces, "Measure twice, cut once!" Thanks Na!

Na and her Official Fan Club.

Ruby Danger is a sister!

2009-03-11T12:05:00.004-04:00

Congratulations to our good friends Brian and Krista and Ruby! They welcomed a bouncing baby boy this morning. He is yet-to-be-named, and after some initial post-birth scariness, he and Krista are doing well. We can't wait to meet him!

YAY!

UPDATE!
His name is Henry Dash! Welcome to the world Henry!

Shhhhh.....

2009-03-09T17:32:00.003-04:00

This is what I found when I had to prematurely wake Eliot from his nap in a likely futile attempt to combat the havoc Daylight Savings Time is wreaking.

And yes, I realize he has quite a menagerie in there. He's in a very serious 'sleep with it!' phase.

That's right, two posts in one day. Don't forget to scroll down to the PG-13 language-laced entry below!

I love you. I hate you. Parental guidance suggested.

2009-03-09T15:13:00.003-04:00

I realize that I'm one of 1,832,203,205 blogger moms who is once again throwing their hands in the air and cursing the Daylight Savings Time, but I cannot help myself, I must publish it for all to read: DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME, GO FUCK YOURSELF.

And this is why I say that, DST. My child, my sweet, sweet child, was up until 10:00 o'clock p.m. last night. In the evening. With the moon out. That is TOO LATE. And furthermore, while I have to admit, I loved you for about 10 minutes this morning when I realized that I had slept in until 9:00 a.m., I remembered I hated you again when I realized that sleeping that late would invariably completely FUCK UP the rest of the day, causing my sweet, sweet baby boy to refuse to nap until 3:00 p.m. And now, I will be forced to wake him up instead of letting his dreamy self snooze in order to HOPEFULLY undo all this mess you have made for us.

So, mark it down. Daylight Savings Time, you and I are officially in a fight. After this, we are not on speaking terms. At least until Fall when I take time to once again curse your existence.

Eliot's Second Birthday in Pictures

2009-03-06T10:30:00.004-05:00

Hanging out at the play table.

Behold! The Elmo cake!

Sharing a taste of icing with Riley.

Onset of Bert and Ernie K'Nex-induced seizure.

Wearing the apron made by Aunt LaLa (and Anne Simmons!) while drawing on the new art easel from Mommy and Daddy.

When I was carrying Eliot upstairs to get it the bathtub he told me, "Mommy, good Elmo party. Good Elmo cake." I'd say the day was a success.

The View from Here

2009-02-23T13:05:00.003-05:00

I'm easing back into this. I think. I just found the cord for to offload the photos from my camera this morning, and that was a major triumph. Our new house still has boxes yet to be unpacked, windows in need of dressing, and walls longing for paint. But we're getting there.

Eliot is adjusting amazingly. Better than me by far. He turned two on Saturday, and my next posts will be about his birthday weekend. What a kid.

For now, I'll leave you with a view from the top floor of our new house - probably the coziest place here.

Hello, Pittsburgh.

Ch-ch-changes

2009-02-03T07:33:00.002-05:00

Hello my loyal reader.

In case you don't read Me? A Mom? or the Baby Human Experience, and/or aren't a Facebook friend, I have some news. Justin was offered a fabulous new job in Pittsburgh about 3 weeks ago. This morning Eliot and I are boarding a plane to meet him and all of our stuff there.

I really want to write a tome about all of this. About how I've felt every feeling known to humanity in these past three whirlwind weeks. About how I never ever want to move ever ever again. About how much I love my family and friends and will miss them desperately. About how excited I am to start this new chapter in our family's story.

Those weeks are my excuse this time for not updating my blog. I plan to try and give you all the details in the coming days, as we get settled into our new (hopefully fabulouser) life.

Yawn

2009-01-06T13:49:00.003-05:00

You would be tired too, if you, for some inexplicable reason, woke up at 5 a.m. But only when it's Mommy's turn to get up with you. Because apparently you have some sort of deal with Daddy she doesn't know about.

Fear Factor

2009-01-04T22:47:00.004-05:00

Lately Eliot has developed some, shall we say, irrational fears. Irrational in the sense that these anxieties don't really make any sense to his parents or even other adults. It all started with the witch doll in October, and has slowly gained momentum in the last month.

Now, a witch doll I can understand. She was green and mean looking, you know, with the frown and the hairy mole and all. She was straddling a broom with her skinny striped legs and who wouldn't be afraid of that? And the next fear, of my cousin Kevin, made some sense. Kevin suffered a horrific leg injury that put him in a contraption like this. We called it his 'cage'. Eliot didn't want to swing from it or anything, but didn't take much notice of it either. The cage has been removed and Kevin is getting around with a cane now, but whenever Eliot sees him he completely loses it - screaming, crying, climbing up my body, pounding heart, the works. Once we calm him down, he's fine, he'll even talk to Kevin, but at the next family gathering the freak-out repeats.

But what didn't make sense was when he went completely bonkers over a jumbo pack of Double AA batteries. Really? I cannot find one reasonable explanation for this. The screaming and the clawing and the writhing were all present once again. I can only guess that he may have seen a frightening ghost at the same time the multi-pack was produced from a Walgreens bag. This happened at my grandparents house, a place known for its history of paranormal activity, so I suppose that is possible. But reasonable? Not so much.

There are other fears that are weird but understandable. That sort of creepy zoologist puppet at the Zoomagination Station at the zoo, I can see that. The illustrations in the You are Creative and You are Brave books? They are a little intense. For Eliot, these books are more like You are Scared Shitless.

The hard part is not knowing what will be scary. Thunder? He doesn't look up from his puzzle. My sister Laura popping up from behind the couch? He laughs his face off. Baby dolls with eyes that follow you around the room? He falls in love with them. So when the two of us sat down to watch some Sesame Street Old School Volume 1, I didn't give it a thought. I had heard that it might not be appropriate for today's preschoolers (this is a little something called foreshadowing), but I wasn't completely sure why. I figured if we watched it together and talked about it, we would be okay.

Like for example, in the segment about where milk comes from when the narrator says something to the effect of, "Mother cows make far more milk than their calves could ever drink..." and I piped in with, "Eliot, that's baloney, mother cows only make more milk than their calves can drink because they are forcibly milked twice a day. The narrator doesn't know what he's talking about." I'm not even vegan. And I have to admit, I'm pretty sure that most of the illustrators working on the cartoons were smoking the drugs. A quick search of YouTube and you'll be all set for your next acid trip.

But I digress. I thought that would be the extent of the inappropriateness of the videos, and otherwise it would be fun for him and a trip to nostalgia town for me. And it was. Until this:

Now for me, the creepiness factor comes when the guy opens the trapdoor and says "Two turtles". First of all, he kind of looks like my dad. Secondly, the face he makes seems really inappropriate for children's television programming. But it's not until the end that the horror show really begins. The baker falls down a flight of stairs and his pies go a'flying. The first time Eliot saw this he referred to the baker as the 'Pizza Man' (after an animatronic doll my grandparents put out at Christmas, one that is wearing a similar hat to the baker). He asked to watch this specific part again 2 more times. But on the third time, he lost his marbles. He jumped into my arms and I fumbled with the remote to try to turn the TV off, and covered his eyes in a desperate attempt to shield him from the abomination on the screen.

But there is hope. Eliot has language now and he is using it. He's not really able to give responses when asked, "Why? What is so abhorent about double AAs?" But as I'm sure he will be required to do in therapy, he has taken to listing his fears for us in this way: "Fraid: Pizza Man Stairs. Witch Doll Pumpkin Patch. Zoo Doll. Kevi Knee. Creative Book. Brave Book." And then he makes his fake scared cry noise and we talk about it. So we try and reassure him that it is okay to be afraid, that those things cannot hurt him, that we are here to keep him safe. And then we stay awake at night hoping that we can protect him from that damn witch doll and her zoologist henchmen.

The Most Beautiful Sound in the World

2009-01-04T20:59:00.002-05:00

These are NOT Resolutions

2009-01-01T13:41:00.002-05:00

I've never been one to make lists of New Year's Resolutions. And when I have jotted down a goal or two, I usually never followed them, at least not permanently. So in the interest of knowing that deep down I have the heart of a procrastinator and the soul of an excuse maker, I'm instead making a list of things that I would like to accomplish in the year 2009 - not actual resolutions. And though this list is technically 'in writing', I make no claims that I will actually do anything. How's that for low expectations?

Heather's Non-Resolutions for 2009:

Learn to sew. Properly. I'd like to be able to confidently thread my machine and whip up projects in a day or so. I'd like to be able to make smart-looking handmade gifts. And since the economy is in the shitter, I should probably learn to repair/lengthen/shorten/repurpose our clothes. In this same vein, I'd like to learn to crochet and become an amazing embrioderist. I don't know if that is a word, but I want to be one.
Eat better. Yes, this is on everyone's list. I am actually a fairly healthy eater, eating a mostly vegetarian diet consisting of lots of green and bean things. Maybe what I should say is I hope to eat less, especially when it comes to things like dark chocolate covered pretzels and other crack-like sweets. I have limited self-control when it comes to these things.
Run more. I'm not committing to running a half-marathon or anything, but I'd like to become a more efficient runner. One that actually loses weight, as opposed to what I do, which is to stay at exactly the same weight after 4 months minus 2 weeks of running. I know, I know, I guess I need to actually eat less to lose weight. Please see previous non-resolution.
Get my doula certification through DONA. If you are pregnant, and would like a free inexperienced doula to attend your birth, please let me know. I have limited experience with childbirth outside of my own, but I've been reading quite a bit and I hope to attend a certification workshop in February.
Speaking of birth, if all goes well, I am hoping that 2009 will mark the beginning of my last pregnancy. Justin?
Figure out a legal way to become independently wealthy. With little to no effort.
I will commit to being a better mother in 2009. Not that I suck, in fact, I think I'm pretty great at it. But no one is perfect, and I don't see anything wrong with improvement, especially when it's the most important job I will ever have.
Be more humble.

Happy New Year everyone. May all of your non-resolutions come true!

Happy 2009

2009-01-01T13:15:00.004-05:00

New year, new look.

Aww Shucks

2008-12-30T10:06:00.004-05:00

You've probably already seen this video of Feist singing on Sesame Street. Cara of Me? A Mom? clued me into it awhile ago, as Lila had decided upon seeing it that the woman on the screen was 'Miss Heather'. When Eliot saw it recently, he agreed that the lady singing was 'Mommy'. So thanks guys. The weird thing about this song: every time I watch it, I get a little misty-eyed. I'm not really sure what it is, I mean, she's singing about chickens just back from the shore, tears are really not necessary.

And yes, people of the Internet, I do look just like this. Oh, and I sing like this too.

Double Threes

2008-12-28T08:13:00.003-05:00

Today is Justin's 33rd birthday. I have had the fortunate privilege to celebrate the previous seven with him. I plan to celebrate all the rest, and I hope for many, many more. I love you, Butter.

BEST. CHRISTMAS. EVER.

2008-12-26T09:21:00.002-05:00

Not a perfect Christmas, just the best one. Ever.

Reasons why today wasn't perfect:

Two days ago I realized that my yearly stress induced cold sore was taking hold on my lower lip. For whatever reason, this eye (and literally, lip) sore has appeared the previous three Decembers. It hurts, and it is unsightly. My dear sweet husband claims he doesn't notice it, but whenever I visualize it, all I can see is the legend of the larvae breast. And please, if you don't know what I'm talking about, and you are at all squeamish or prone to nightmares, do not click that link. It's awful. And it's fake. And it's really awful. But it is basically what I picture my face to look like right now. And it's exactly what you don't want captured in pictures that will be viewed for years to come.
We forgot to leave cookies out for Santa. So Justin and I ate them for breakfast.
Eliot woke up in the middle of the night for a 10 minute cuddle. I asked him this morning if he heard Santa, and he told me, "Yep". This should maybe be added to why today was the Best. Christmas. Ever.
Eliot got his first bonafide sweets-induced tummy ache. And it was my fault. I was making cookies at 9:00 a.m. on Christmas Eve and he asked for some chocolate chips. I figured, what the hell, it's Christmas! and gave him about 10 or so and a couple of refills. I even let him eat them in the living room at the coffee table while he watched Muzzy. Cut to about 15 minutes later when he walks in the kitchen and says, "Tummy huhts. No moh eat" and handed me his unfinished chips. I confirmed that it was indeed the chocolate and he spent the next twenty minutes lying on the couch with Blue and watching Elmo. I think we both learned a valuable lesson.
Two super smooshy, stinky, soak-the-diaper-in-the-toilet poops. When the second one was happening I asked Eliot, "Are you pooping?" and he responded, "No, fahtin'." It was a Christmas lie.
We wish ALL of our family could be with us for the holidays, but it's just not possible. So to our family in Pennsylvania, we missed you and we'll see you soon.

And now why this was the Best. Christmas. Ever:

Eliot slept until 7:45. Enough said.
He was so excited about Santa. And snowmen. And somewhat strangely, nutcrackers. He's into the holiday. And not so much for the presents. He was just really into the whole thing; he wanted us to sing Christmas songs and read books about Rudolph. He would squeak 'Santa!' any time he saw the jolly fat man in a store, or on a Coke can, or in a random photo up at the coffeeshop. He had the spirit.
During and after the Opening of the Gifts, Eliot repeatedly gave random hugs and kisses. When Justin put him into the car to go to my Grandparents, he kept saying, "Happy. Happy. Happy." And there were no tantrums, something with which Eliot has been experimenting.
Justin did really really great on his choice of gifts for me. And the fact that we were even able to exchange gifts, something we haven't done for a couple of years due to our need to conserve. And we even managed to have some rare and wonderful couple time during Eliot's nap. Best. X-mas. Ever.
My diet today consisted primarily of chocolate, fresh bread, and cheese and cheese foods. Who could ask for more?
Eliot has very generous grandparents. It made for a very lovely and copius display beneath our mini tree.
Most of all, I was with people I love more than anything on earth, hearing their voices and listening to their laughs. I laughed at corny jokes and snuggled with my cousin's baby. Good times.

And finally, for the piece de resistance. I decided about 3 or so weeks ago that I wanted to build a play kitchen for Eliot for Christmas. Small problem: I have very little experience in the realm of power tools and building and such. Justin, while handy, was swamped with other projects, and suggested we just buy one. I was determined though, and I employed the help of my sister's girlfriend Karissa who is a wonder with the circular saw and the drill. And she listened. And made suggestions, and this is what we came up with (cue angels):

Please ignore my wonky picture taking style. Apparently I can't take a level photo.

And probably the real source of the larvae lip was all my worry that we would have put in all this work, and it would look like shit and possibly be a safety hazard, what with all the nails and screws and broken wood hanging about. But it didn't. And it was worth it, even the $20 spent on Abreva. Even though it took him nearly two hours to notice its hugeness, and even with all the excited prodding from his parents (don't you want to look under the sheet? What do you think Santa left under that sheet? Shall we have a look?) all while he instead chose to play with every single one of his gifts before getting to the kitchen.

But he loves it!

Yes, that is Blue in his mouth. But it is Christmas! Don't be such a Scrooge.

We topped off the day by hanging out with my family, and it was great to have both my sisters in town, though we missed Karissa who was in Denver with her family. Eliot was wound up on chocolate milk and white bread and drunk on my grandparent's 60 years-0-Santa collection. And when we got home, we read a new book, sang Santa Came to Town (a past tense version of Santa's Coming to Town) and laid him down for a long winter's nap.

BEST. CHRISTMAS. EVER.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!

Potty Mouth

2008-12-19T19:26:00.002-05:00

Eliot's vocabulary is exploding. He is able to repeat nearly every word you can throw at him. Except Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. I tried. He's saying things like 'cinnamon,' 'don't like it,' and 'please wash it'. He will even say, 'I'm mad,' before falling apart in a tantrum.

So of course, we have had to be a bit more careful when it comes to some of the more colorful language we like to use. And I'm sorry, but I really enjoy swearing. Yes, it is easy, and juvenile, and sometimes small-minded. But it is part of my vernacular, and I'm finding it somewhat difficult to completely drop it. And spelling things like, "D-a-m-m-i-t, I am so mother f-u-c-k-i-n-g p-i-s-s-e-d'ed," just doesn't have the same effect. So yes, Eliot has repeated some of the tougher words found in the English language. And yes, it was funny, but not something I would encourage.

But what's really funny are the unintentional mis-steps. Words like dump truck and sit are common examples of words children tend to mispronounce to hilarious effect. For Eliot, that word is popsicle, pronounced, Pop-asshole. Or more like POP-ASSHOLE! POP-ASSHOLE! PLEEEEEEEAAAAASE!

When we were in Pennsylvania, the only thing he would eat was popsicles due to his double ear /throat infection. If you are familiar with my sick child policy, you know that all bets are off when 104 degree temperatures start a raging, so I happily obliged all requests. And were there ever so many. Did I mention that my entire extended family of in-laws was present for Mr. Potty-Mouth's pop-asshole demands?

To top it all off, we call my grandfather Pop. And Pop is the king of the trash mouth. He uses the phrase 'son-of-a-bitch' as an exclamation (SON of a BITCH!), as a noun (He's a son of a bitch), an adjective (This son of a bitchin' stove), and a verb (I son of a bitched him). Pop is the king of the swear, and he taught us all quite well, so it is only fitting that his image is conjured up every time Eliot demands a frozen treat.

That New Baby Smell...

2008-12-17T21:20:00.006-05:00

Eliot and I went to JJ's the other day to meet her family's newest addition, Easton Hawk. Seeing his tiny baby self and hearing all about his birth sent my ovaries into a tizzy. His little hands and grunts and squeaks, even his cry was crush-worthy. When I held him he let out an obvious (to a well-trained individual such as myself) hungry cry and I swear, my let-down reflex kicked in. I was suprised to look down and find my boob-area still dry.

Now that Eliot is rounding the corner on his way to the Big Two, people are starting to ask the inevitable, "When are you having another one?" It's a good question. One that I can't answer right now, at least not definitively. My original plan - that is, the plan that was formed before I was an actual mother with real-life baby rearing experience, was to have the second one within the older child's first two years. Well, here's news: I'm not pregnant, and I just stocked up on staying-not-pregnant supplies, if you catch my drift.

So when will we have another one? My mind is ready. Or at least, it's alerting me that my body is ready via excessive pregnancy and labor daydreaming and nighttime dreams. And at the same time my mind is telling me how much I love my little family and I'm hesitant to make any drastic changes, such as bringing an unpredictable, sleep-stealing, boobie monster into the house. And yes, there is that little voice in my head that says, "Really? Is it possible for another child to be as amazing and soul-filling as the one we already have? Could I love another child as much as I love my firstborn?"

Of course, the obvious answer is yes. While I'm sure there are some terrible, heartless people in the world who don't love their children equally, I don't think I'm one of them. And honestly, that is the least of my concerns when it comes to bringing another child into our lives. What does worry me are things like:

Our personal economy: Yeah, it's bad all over. And that is definitely scary. However, I'm sure children were probably purposefully conceived and birthed during the Great Depression, so I'm not going to let a little Recession scare me. But what about in our home? My innately thrifty ways have kicked into overdrive. I seriously considered using my leftover cereal milk in my tea the other morning. I'm positively giddy at the thought of stocking up on 10 for $10 canned goods. Sure, the first 6 months of Little Mister/Miss New Baby's life is basically paid for (diapers - check, breastmilk - check) but what about after? Justin didn't get a raise this year due to the shittiness of the economy, though our cost for health benefits (I use the term 'benefits' lightly) is going up. There is not much, okay any, saving going on in this house.
Where we live: We live in an apartment above a popular coffeeshop. As far as apartments go, it's not a bad place for a screechy newborn, due to not having sleeping overnight neighbors. The downside is that our neighbors invite bands to play bad covers at an excessive volume on the weekends sometimes.
Where we live II: And what if we don't stay in St. Louis? What if Justin gets an awesome high paying job in another city? And we can't pass it up because, hey, we really need that great pay? Do I really want to be pregnant or half-crazy from sleep deprivation and move to another city? Not so much.

When I started this post, I was quite sure I had more reasons keeping us from french kissing until a baby started growing (because, Mom, that's how we got Eliot) but I'm seeing that most of my hesitancy is rooted in fears about our immediate financial and residential future. So maybe the next and last baby is not that far off. Maybe I can give a tentative response to all those Nosy Nellys all up in my reproductive business.

Maybe next year, Nelly, next year.

He's Here!

2008-12-11T23:24:00.002-05:00

He's still nameless, but JJ, Dave and Sylvia have a new family member! He was born at 5:14 p.m and is 8 lbs, 12 oz, 21 inches long. Congrats to the happy family!

Labor Day

2008-12-11T18:30:00.002-05:00

My friend JJ is is labor with her as-of-yet unnamed boy. Please join me in sending her speedy safe baby birthing vibes!

Here Come the 123s

2008-12-03T10:56:00.003-05:00

My friend Hannah introduced me to this CD/DVD combo, and I have to tell you, I cannot wait for Eliot to ask to watch it again. The songs are catchy and completely not-annoying and the animation makes me want to craft all night. I will be seriously sad when we have to return it to the library. Perhaps Santa will get if for us, I mean, him.

Don't Fire Me

2008-11-26T17:00:00.004-05:00

I've fallen down on the job for a number of reasons; the aforementioned blogger's block, deadlines, travel, and now Eliot has a double ear and throat infection. Did I mention we are visiting Justin's family in Pennsylvania? Perfect timing. So, Butter-lovers, I'm not dead. I'll be back soon. With pictures of things and writing of words. After turkey-day, I promise.

Blogger's Block

2008-11-17T20:39:00.002-05:00

Possibly as result of the last week's increasingly colder weather mixed with the earlier sunsets, I just haven't been feeling it.

I've had about five posts floating around in my head, but they just haven't made it onto the screen.

In attempt to re-jump start my inspiration to share with all of you, I've decided to make a list o' things that have happened or are happening in the Butter clan:

Eliot can say "Pennsylvania". That's four syllables. This is just one of the tens of words he seems to be picking up daily, sometimes hourly. He is a little parrot. And yes, he's repeated words I shouldn't have been saying in his presence. Shit, most notably. Though when he says 'sit' it comes out sounding like 'shit'. As in, "Eliot, what are you doing?" "Eliot! Shittin'!"
I have been a culinary machine lately. This weekend I not only made another meal in the slow cooker, but I made pizza crust from scratch (we're talking yeast, flour, rising dough, the works) and spiced pumpkin waffles. My abs are actually sore from kneading dough.
Eliot is engaged. Parris and Bronte and their moms came over for the aforementioned waffles and Parris announced that she wanted to marry E. when she turns 14. I asked them to please let him finish junior high first.
I have started knitting regularly again. So far I've made a few toddler hats and I've started a scarf. I cannot find my set of bamboo needles and it is driving me completely bonkers. If you see them, please let me know.
My cloth diapers are leaking - AGAIN. I've stripped them and they are still unable to contain sometimes even a small amount of pee. Any cloth diaperers out there with advice above and beyond washing with Dawn and rinsing them clear, please help!
Eliot is becoming such a social butterfly. His friend list is growing: Jonah, Lucy, 2 Emmetts (Emmett C. and C. Emmett), and Aubrey in addition to his BFFs Sylvia, Lila, Rosalie, Olive, Samson, Ruby, Parris, and Bronte. And boys! He has friends who are boys!
I ran a 5K. You can see one of the worst photographs ever taken of me here. My hair has morphed into another person's head in the background. But the thing is, as bad as I look - I was so mother freaking proud of myself at that moment. I seriously almost cried when we approached the finish line because I was so happy. Big ups to my running partner Heather2, I couldn't have done it without her. Well, maybe I could have, but it wouldn't have been as fun. We're planning to run another with Elizabeth and Adam in December.
Eliot is continuing to amaze us on a daily basis. I know it's trite to say it, but it's such a wonder to watch him grow and learn. His newfound vocabulary is allowing his personality to blossom even more, and he's a funny, happy, loving kid.

I'll try and keep things more updated; I'll try and get at least a couple of those floating posts out of my head. And pictures! Yes, we could all use more pictures.

A Quiet Moment

2008-11-10T13:50:00.003-05:00

Photo by Justin Visnesky, 2008

Dinner Party

2008-11-07T08:59:00.003-05:00

You simply must try the couscous. It's really good tonight!

Can you feel it?

2008-11-04T12:19:00.003-05:00

I am so mother-loving excited. Aren't you?

Can you even wait until tonight or tomorrow morning?

Did you vote?

What?

You didn't?

Are you going to?

Do it!* Now!

(*unless you are a Republican, then just disregard that. You should probably just have a nap or something. Seriously. You deserve it. The past eight years have been HARD.)

Argh Matey

2008-11-01T16:20:00.006-04:00

It's possible that I was more excited for Halloween than Eliot. Especially since he didn't even know it existed before Friday morning.

After much deliberation and many visits to pre-made costume-hawking web sites, it was decided that Eliot would dress as a pirate as 1. I could fashion his costume using items found around the house and 2. it involved a drawn on mustache, which basically sealed the deal. I knit his eye patch and found an old bandanna to complete the headgear. The belt was Justin's wrapped twice around Eliot's baby-slim waist. Though it helped to make the whole ensemble come together it did not last long due to it repeatedly falling around his ankles. He was surprisingly accommodating when it came to dressing him. The only hesitation came with the drawing of the eyeliner pencil facial hair, which explains why it's not exactly precise. But it didn't really matter, because look how mother-loving cute he is!

"Who me? I don't even know what rum is."

Once Justin got home from work we headed to my grandparent's house for chili and trick-or-treating. Eliot was more concerned about getting a much coveted ice cream cone than anything else. He ate dinner and then we hit the pavement. He isn't really familiar with candy, so it was more a concept than a reality, though he did know that he wanted some and when he got some (in his pumpkin bucket) he knew he really wanted some more. I think he understood that there was some sort of food stuff inside the packaging, but I don't know if he was aware of how delicious and hyperactivity inducing its ingredients were.

We knocked on about 10 doors and I'd ask Eliot "What does a Pirate say?" and he's softly reply "Argh." and then get his candy and say "thank you." in an equally tiny voice. He did really great though. In St. Louis, the tradition is that you have to tell a joke or sing a song or do a little dance before you get your candy. I think it might be dying out a bit, but I'm all about it. My grandparents are still sticklers for it, they even invite the kids into their house and chat them up a bit, which was how every house was when I was a kid.

When we got back to my grandparent's house, Eliot was treated to about 7 M&M's, and we could almost see the sugar energy radiating off of him. He stood in front of Justin, literally vibrating all over as he chewed each one, totally intoxicated with the wonder of candy-coated chocolate goodness. Afterward, Eliot took a bath and got into his pajamas; way past bedtime as expected. We hoped he might fall asleep in the car on the way home, but he chatted the entire ride; about candy, argh-ing, cones, Pop-pop, and the zoo. I was a little concerned that he was going to be too buzzed to sleep, but nothing but silence came from the monitor after we tucked him in.

Justin and I used to go to this Halloween party every year that lasted until 4am. We actually won costume contests. We'd always complain that we didn't want to dress up and then go all-out at the last minute. Those were super fun times. Of course, things changed, Eliot came into our lives, and those days are probably staying in the past. But watching Eliot enjoy and revel in something that was once the highlight of the year next to Christmas is way better. Way, way better.

Domesticated

2008-10-29T16:27:00.003-04:00

Words my mother never thought she'd hear come out of my mouth: "Dinner is in the Crock Pot".

A Gratuitous Husband Photo

2008-10-25T20:53:00.003-04:00

Photo by Michael Worful

I really wanted to title this post, "What a Hunk," but I thought that might embarrass him. Art guys usually aren't too pleased with being treated like pieces of meat.

Preparing for the Big Day

2008-10-22T11:22:00.002-04:00

Canada-less

2008-10-21T10:40:00.003-04:00

So, here we are. Still in Saint Louis.

We were scheduled to leave this morning to FINALLY go visit my cousin Emily and her boys: husband Duncan, and sons Dexter, Neville, and Lewis. I've been doing laundry and buying special normally-off-limits snacks for the trip. I was getting excited, and the travel jitters were setting in as well.

Then Emily called yesterday morning and said, "Guess where I am?" I guessed Saint Louis. I was unfortunately wrong. (I'm always wishing that people I love will surprise me with a visit.) Sadly, they are in the hospital with little Lewis, all of 2.5 years old. He woke up the previous morning with a raging fever and he couldn't walk. It turned out he had a bacterial infection in his hip joint, which required surgery to clean it out. The surgery went well, but they found that he has sepsis (blood poisoning) and a bone infection. He will require 3-4 weeks of IV antibiotics and will probably stay in the hospital for the rest of this week.

Poor little bug. Please send him all your best, most healing thoughts, prayers, chants, songs, whatever. He's a strong little mite and I'm sure he'll be back to terrorizing his parents with other feats of fearless activity in no time.

Little Lew.

This is why I need a new camera...

2008-10-18T13:17:00.004-04:00

Elizabeth took these lovely photos of our sweet butter this morning at the park. If you love that face, you will forward this blog to 10 people so that my ad revenue goes up and I can buy a decent camera that is capable of capturing my son's true wonderfulness. Oh, and an angel will make all your wishes come true.

Big Surprises

2008-10-15T14:57:00.002-04:00

Eliot has taken up a new hobby; peeing on the floor after his bath. It's in the same category with other hobbies we'd like to discourage like motorcycle racing and Irish dancing. So last night when he announced, "Pee! Pee!" while holding onto his pee-maker, I scooped him up, dashed into the bathroom and set him atop the throne.

I was focusing on making sure he didn't spray the toilet seat with urine. He sat calmly and didn't wiggle or complain. He let out a little 'pfft' type fart and, like every other time he's ever sat on the potty, we thought that was it. He told us he was "all done" after about a minute. But then, when I picked him up, Justin yells out "HE POOPED!"

And there it was.

A man-sized turd that took no noticeable effort to expel. We were both probably more excited than the situation really warranted. Eliot peeked into the potty and made his fake scared crying sound. We assured him that it was just his fabulous poop! and he should be so proud to have made it! In the potty! And then I took a picture of his first little floater. And no, you cannot see it. Because that would be gross.

I highly doubt this is the start of a trend. In fact, his first diaper of the day (and his second) was filled with a smashed poop-brownie, just like all the days before the Poop In The Potty day. I think it was just a matter of being in the right place at the right time. He is only a few days shy of 20 months. Not even two yet. We have plenty of time for more turd-tastic meetings with the toilet!

Cleaning Up

2008-10-14T13:34:00.002-04:00

I know, right? How great does this look? Three columns? Fancy!

While the look of the blog is nowhere near the custom designed magic land I someday hope will grace this web address, it'll do for now. If your blog was formerly in the 'Read It' section, and has been updated in the last month, but is no longer there, let me know (via Comments or email) and I'll correct it.

Pumpkin Patch

2008-10-13T18:17:00.004-04:00

We trekked over to Ekert's in Belleville on Saturday for the 2nd Annual Butter Family Pumpkin Pickin'. While it's more of a 'choosing' than a 'picking' it's still worth the drive.

Eliot enjoyed the tractor ride out to the patch and went right to work inspecting all the pumpkins. He was really disturbed, however, by pumpkins that had been smooshed, smashed, or otherwise damaged. Every time we passed a broken, rotting pumpkin corpse he'd make this new fake crying sound to indicate his worry and sadness over the tragedy. Unfortunately, there had apparently been a pumpkin battle earlier in the morning, because the field was littered with casualties, so we spent a lot of time reassuring him that those pumpkins would be returned to the earth from whence they came.

Avert your eyes from this most gruesome scene!

In addition to his fear of (or concern for?) broken pumpkins, Eliot was also very disturbed by a Halloween witch doll on a broom in the gift shop. He kept pointing to it and saying, "Doll...broom" and then doing that strange fake crying sound. I will try and capture it on audio for your listening pleasure. He is still talking about that damned doll. We keep reassuring him that the doll is a) not harmful b) lives in another state and therefore cannot find us and c) Mommy and Daddy will protect him from her by melting her with a pail of water if need be. There is currently a ban on the word doll as it only sends him into faux hysterics (again with the fake scared noise).

The main reason we drive across state lines to buy a pumpkin we could easily get in the grocery store is to take the requisite child atop a big orange squash photo, as evidenced here:

Eliot - Age 19 months

And what a difference a year makes:

Eliot - Age 7 months

It's incredible how much he has changed in just one year. For example, he's stopped dressing so punk and started favoring a much preppier look. I mean Crocs? Really? Last year he was all, "Shoes are just trappings of the corporate machine, I'm going in my socks!" and "Anarchy!" I'm sure I could doctor that sweater up with some iron ons and a couple of giant safety pins and he'd be good to go. If only he'd let me.

Now I just have to come up with a costume (and yes, the punk thing did just occur to me, but Justin wasn't on board, so that threw that out the window). Something that layers or can easily have the arms cut off as St. Louis has been sort of sweltering for October recently. It was in the mid-80s this weekend. It's really dampening my Halloween spirit. Last year, he was a hot dog (or veggie dog, depending on what you eat) and he pretty much lost half his body weight via his sweat glands as he was wrapped in thick fleece during a similar heat wave. So, any costume suggestions (and links to how-to make or buy) are appreciated!

New Rule

2008-10-12T20:33:00.003-04:00

Now that I'm a 'professional' blogger, I've been reading new blogs and my blogroll has been getting a little long. In order to attempt to prevent it from extending to the end of the page, I'm instituting a new rule, or guideline, regarding blogs in the blogroll. If a blog has not been updated in month (or so) I will discontinue it*. Of course, if the blogger starts posting again, I would be happy to re-add it. So get to posting!

*Does not apply to my own blog(s).

Talk to Me

2008-10-08T14:58:00.001-04:00

Maybe you are not the commenting type. Maybe you are a long-lost-friend/lurker. Maybe you just need someone to commiserate with.

Presenting! Butter Family Picnic's own email address! Are there questions you need answered, but are to shy to ask in the comments? Do you want to tell me how great/beautiful/awful/illiterate you think I am? Do you just want to sing Eliot's praises? Now is your opportunity! You want it! You got it!

Send your words to: butterfamilypicnic(AT)gmail(DOT)com. And the reason I leave the at and the dot symbols out is so that I only get much anticipated mail from you, my readers, and not spammers who want just to grow my penis with the money of a Nigerian prince.

Workin' It

2008-10-08T09:14:00.002-04:00

A spontaneous stretching session, post-run

Growing Pleasures

2008-10-07T17:35:00.003-04:00

In the past four days, Eliot has put an impressive dent in the groceries I bought on Friday afternoon. He has eaten almost an entire box of Ritz wheat crackers, at least one box of mac n' cheese, 1/2 a box of couscous, a quarter pound of grapes, almost an entire bag of goldfish, 1/2 a block of cheese, nearly a gallon of milk, almost an entire large jar of mangoes, 1/2 lb of bunch-style carrots and god knows what else.

I'd say he's probably experiencing a growth spurt.

The other tell-tale factor is that he is sleeping like an absolute dream, pardon the pun. He has been going down without a fuss and sleeping until nearly 7:00 a.m (which, as my long-time readers know, is pretty much the equivalent of getting to sleep in until eleven a.m.). Yesterday his nap lasted almost 3 hours, which was great, because I'm swimming in much-welcome freelance work.

But this afternoon, all records were broken. Eliot slept 4 hours. After hour 3, I had convinced myself that he was dead (because, really, WHAT other explanation could there be). I jokingly told Cara on the phone that this was my theory, and then immediately regretted it while walking down the hallway to his room at the stroke of the fourth hour. I know that joking about your child's death is really morbid and even despicable, but I tend to joke about things that I'm terrified of in order to deal with the harsh reality life sometimes deals us. I figure if I joke about something, it's off limits for the universe to mess with. It's a little agreement we have. By we I mean me and the universe. It's complicated.

I tiptoed into his room, sure that as soon as he heard the creak of the door he'd bolt upright and demand milk! and more food! Instead he was in a deep deep sleep, slightly twitching and sucking on Blue like it was going to run off if he let up. I stood there and watched something I rarely get to see anymore - my own child sleeping. I even managed to snap a few photos, something I'm usually too afraid to try - if there is even the slightest chance that he could sleep even a few seconds longer, I will do all in my power to make it happen.

When he finally woke up, he was ready to go, requesting a red diaper and Ernie and Bobby (Bobby is Bob of Sesame Street, singer of 'People in Your Neighborhood' - click the link, he loves the part with Ralph Nader. And yes, you read that right, Ralph Nader) and a carrot and some water and well, everything.

So now we are hoping that he will actually sleep tonight, because there are actual nights in his short life that he didn't sleep as long as he did this afternoon. I half expect that if he does sleep all night, we'll wake up to find a fifth grader in his crib.

All this growing is exhausting.

What's up doc?

2008-10-06T19:56:00.003-04:00

I've been trying to diversify Eliot's diet. We were getting into a dangerous rut of mac n' cheese, cous cous, peas, and mangoes. This has required some creativity on my part, such as hiding nutritious food inside of one of the four previously mentioned ones, which is no easy feat. I saw these carrots at the grocery and thought the leafy green stalks might entice him into thinking they would not only be sweet and delicious, but fun as well. I thought right.

Of course, they were kind of a mess (as evidenced by the chewed carrot bits seen on his hand and shirt) but totally worth it. It could have only been cuter if he had been barefoot in dirt-covered overalls riding a tractor.

Gettin' a little political

2008-10-05T10:07:00.003-04:00

I realize that I will not be the first or only person to embed this video, but I just had to do it. Tina Fey is my hero.

UPDATE: If you tried to watch this earlier, and it didn't work, try again. I've embedded it directly from the SNL website.

Breakin' the Rules

2008-10-01T20:30:00.003-04:00

My philosophy for sick kids is this: you are miserable, let's make you as comfortable as possible. If that involves breaking all the house rules for a day or two, let's do it.

Pre-fever. Note disposable in order to use the super duper thick butt cream. And yes, he's staring at Elmo's precious face.

For this particular bout of diarrhea followed by 102 degree fever with a side of acid poop induced diaper rash, we broke the following rules:

Limited TV - we watched the Elmo DVD no less than 8 times and the Ernie one no less than 6. In two days. One time we watched part of one at 2:30 in the morning.
Sleep in your own bed - this rule was broken when Eliot woke up 2.5 minutes after I fell asleep. After midnight. Justin was out of town so I pulled him into bed with me and he immediately cozied up and zonked out. And then proceeded to flop around like he was skankin' at a Bosstones show.
No eating in front of the TV: When your child doesn't eat or drink anything all day and you are sort of freaking out that they might shrivel up like a raisin and you'll have to carry around your shrunken, wrinkled baby for all the world to see, you make compromises. When Eliot would finally consent to eating a (pediatrician approved) popsicle (or two), but only if Elmo was within eye-shot, I happily obliged.
Binky is just for night-night: This was an easy rule to break. Blue (that's Binky's name, he's, uh, blue - duh) was pretty much plugged in for 36 hours straight.

Yes, that's the sofa in the background. The room with the TV. But look how pathetic that face is. Could you say no?

And we lived. And today, the rules, or guidelines, as we will try and refer to them, are back in effect. Blue stayed in the crib, all meals happened table-side, and he slept all night in his own bed. Until morning. Without waking up.

On the mend. Hour 22 of "Put Down the Duckie". Because you have to put down the duckie if you want to play the saxophone.

Sometimes...

2008-09-30T18:58:00.003-04:00

when your child wakes up out of a sound sleep at 4 am saying "Mommy!" and then "Elmo!" and refuses to go back to sleep, and oh, by the way, you didn't fall asleep until after midnight, as you were working on a file and then selfishly showering your filthy body, then sometimes, you should just not blog. It's not fair to anyone really, the things that you'll say. It will mostly just be a lot of complaining and whining about how tired you are. No one really wants to hear that.

So that's all you'll get today. Night-night!

A Survey

2008-09-29T19:58:00.003-04:00

Let me preface the following by informing you all that:

Justin is in Canada on a press check until Wednesday
Eliot has had the shits for four days and a fever for one. Nice timing kid, wait until Daddy is out of the country to take it up a notch.
I haven't had a shower today. I really really really need one.
I brushed my teeth for the first time at 3pm - and only because we were going to the pediatrician.
I have a mound of work to do and no time or babysitter to do it with (due to the aforementioned fever)
I literally ate Eliot's leftovers for dinner last night and tonight.
I feel like I must post something every weekday if possible.
I really like Elizabeth, and that is the only reason I'm consenting to doing this:

What time did you get up this morning? Which time? The first time at 2 am-ish until 3 am-ish or the last time at 6:23?
Diamonds or pearls? Diamonds. But really I think I'd like an new flat screen, or a king size bed, definitely a diamond-encrusted king size bed.
What was the last film you saw at the cinema? This is obviously a question for people without children. I honestly do not remember.
What is your favourite TV show? This is a hard one, because I have a very serious and painful television addiction, but I am going to say The Office, just because I try to never miss it. And yes, Elizabeth, it is why I won't go to Thursday night TURBO Kickboxing.
What do you usually have for breakfast? Oatmeal with soy milk and a touch of maple syrup, or toast with cream cheese.
What is your middle name? Marie.
What food do you dislike? I am kind of flexible when it comes to food. I thought I really hated cauliflower until I had some prepared properly. Oh, I really don't like beets, especially the picked variety.
What is your favorite CD at the moment? I'm thinking....Vampire Weekend? I know I am like a year behind on that, but I'm old now and I find out about these things way after they've blown up and out.
What kind of car do you drive? 1993 Volvo Station Wagon. My dream car. If you know of an amazing Volvo mechanic in St. Louis, please leave their info in the comments. My baby is in need of an experienced mechanic who knows what he/she's doing.
Favourite sandwich? Anything containing the following: avocado, cheese, mayonnaise, good lettuce (not iceberg). You could pretty much put anything else on that and I'd be all over it.
What characteristic do you despise? Fakery. Is that a word? I don't like it when people try and use their coolness to show how cool they are. Or how smart and hip they are. Just be yourself, man.
Favourite item of clothing? I pretty much hate all my clothes right now. But I'm also about to get my period, so check back with me after that whole ordeal is over and I'll probably have a better answer.
If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would you go? I can't pick one place. I would love to go to see someplace on every continent. Except maybe Antartica, I'm not much for winter.
Favourite brand of clothing? I like cheap and cute and fits me. Is that a brand?
Where would you retire to? Somewhere on a beach. Can I retire now? I would go there now. Seriously. Now?
What was your most recent memorable birthday? Aren't they all memorable? Justin threw me a surprise party and I seriously didn't have a clue until we were walking up to our friends' house and I saw my grandparent's van (dead giveaway - grandparents and friends; not usually hanging out on a Saturday night). That was for my 30th. He also gave me a lovely and unexpected pair of diamond earrings. Which were perfect.
Favourite sport to watch? Is marathon episode-watching of The Office a sport?
When is your birthday? May
Are you a morning person or a night person? I was a night person. Now I'm more of a late-morning/afternoon person.
What is your shoe size? 10. Yes, they are enormous. They were big, and then I got pregnant, and they got even bigger. None of my old shoes fit. It's depressing.
Pets? One imaginary turtle named Pe-Na. It's Eliot's, obviously.
Any new and exciting news you’d like to share with us? Justin was selected by a visiting critic through the Contemporary Art Museum St. Louis for a studio visit. Kind of a big deal. I'm pretty mother freakin' proud of him.
What did you want to be when you were little? Astronaut, writer, actress. I gave up on the astronaut thing when I found out how much math was involved. I really just wanted to be the first 'kid in space'.
How are you today? Wrecked. Sick kid + no sleep + mound of work = illegal blood chocolate content.
What is your favourite candy(lollie/chocolate)? Lindt Dark Lindor Truffles, slightly chilled, cause I'm fancy.
What is your favourite flower? Alive ones? Ones that you brought me?
What is a day on the calendar you are looking forward to? I'm looking forward to a few: possibly finally going to Canada, Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas. Although, I usually try and look forward to days like Wednesday, Sunday, etc. to keep it manageable.
What is your full name? Heather Marie Rutherford Visnesky. 2 middle names. And my social security number is....
What are you listening to right now? The monitor fuzz. Eliot is finally asleep!
What was the last thing you ate? Kraft mac n' cheese (whole grain, for extra nutrition). The last bite I took was from the pot. Because it tastes better that way.
Do you wish on stars? No. I'm not a Disney Princess, so, it doesn't really work for me.
If you were a crayon, what colour would you be? Blue. I should be black, since that is all I wear. But I'm really blue on the inside.
How is the weather right now? Delicious. Perfect sleeping weather for those who are allowed to sleep.
The first person you spoke to on the phone today? Justin, from Manitoba, to tell him about the baby butter's fever.
Favourite soft drink? Cream soda.
Favourite restaurant? What are those? I think I may have seen them on TV. And people eat at them? Like at night, when it's dark? If I went to one, it would have to be an Indian place. I pretty much love any restuarant that serves Indian food.
Real hair colour? Sadly, I think it might be white. Or salt n' peppa.
What was your favourite toy as a child? This is embarrasing. There were two. A Princess Diana doll in a navy satin gown, and a homemade Miss Piggy doll. Both were presents from my grandmother for Christmas. I loved those girls.
Summer or winter? Neither. Unless it's winter in California. Then I pick winter.
Hugs or kisses? Hugs from all ya'll but kisses from the Daddy Butter. And no, I do not call him that to his face.
Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate. Always. Do not ever question it.
Coffee or tea? Coffee, specifically, a skim decaf mocha. Thanks, I'll have two.
When was the last time you cried? The other night when Eliot slipped in the draining bath tub and bumped his cheek so hard he had an instant purple bruise. I was RIGHT THERE. I couldn't stop it and it was awful.
What is under your bed? I think Justin's bass guitar. Possibly a mat cutter. Definitely dirt.
What did you do last night? Watched a terrible lady movie that's name I will not shame myself by revealing. Went to bed early and slept like complete and absolute shit. Thanks for asking.
What are you afraid of? Anything having to do with something or someone awful happening to Eliot.
Salty or sweet? Can I have both? Chocolate covered pretzels anyone?
How many keys on your key ring? 4
How many years at your current job? Which one? I guess 1.5 on all counts.
Favourite day of the week? Saturday. Or Vacationday.
How many places have you lived in? Too many to count. Especially if this means actual dwellings. Here's places: Atlanta, St. Louis, Chicago, Pennsylvania, and Madrid. Even though Madrid was only 2 months, I rented an apartment so I count it as living there. Plus I was alive while there.
Do you make friends easily? Absolutely.

Well, now that I wasted all that time, it could be your turn. If you care to, do the same in the comments. If you don't care to, I don't blame you, that is a long-ass list of questions.

Too Much Sugar

2008-09-26T15:01:00.001-04:00

About all those 'uuuhhmmms'. This is not something he picked up from me. Though, if he ever says, "Uhh, no." That is from me.

Just Say No

2008-09-25T14:39:00.003-04:00

Before Eliot was born, I was convinced that we would not use pacifiers. Initially I was concerned that it would cause nipple confusion, which could complicate breastfeeding. I also didn't understand how a man-made device could soothe my child better than I could.

In his hospital bassinet was a post-it that said "No circ, no paci". I was really proud of that little sign. I felt like it was an announcement that we were making conscious choices from day one. We were parents who had done our research and knew what we were doing. We didn't need that little plastic tit - I was going to fulfill all of my child's needs and do it with a smile on my face.

Cut to 4 days later at home, Eliot permanently latched to my breast/pinkie finger; sucking, sucking, sucking. The sign wasn't there anymore, and I could do whatever I damn well pleased. I sent Justin into the towering stacks of unopened baby gifts to find some pacifiers. "Boil them up and bring them to me!"

Eliot was a great nurser from the get-go. He latched on right away. The problem was he never really wanted to latch off. This quieted my fears of possible nipple confusion. I was sure he would be so relieved to have a little something to suck on for as long as his little jaws could hold out.

No dice.

He wasn't having it. We tried various brands, sizes, tip shapes, the works. Nothing but mommy boob or somebody's (anybody's!) pinkie would do. We would try again every once in awhile to see if he'd changed his mind and occassionally he'd take a few sucks and that'd be the end of it. There were times that he would pop one in his mouth while he was teething, but he mostly chewed on it, and it would never last long. Unless my mom gave it to him. Then he would suck on it as if it was covered in sugar. Which is a little suspicious - grandmothers are notorious for their access to sweet treats.

That all changed in the last week. When we were at Luby and Anna's on Sunday meeting Samson, Eliot demanded that he be given a pacifier like Samson's, or more accurately, Samson's pacifier. Our hosts obliged, and he spent most of the visit with it plugged in, while he went about the important business of playing with Luby's vintage Sesame Street Little People. Then yesteday, we had a playdate with our friend Lucy, who's a fan of the Nuk, and he stole it and sucked on it in the fountain at Tower Grove Park, at the playground, and through most of our grocery shopping trip until it found it's way out of the car cart and onto the floor.

So last night at bedtime, he was really fussy, which we attributed to teething. He kept asking for Lola, but when I put her in his bed, he picked her up and wanted her out. Then I realized what he wanted. Lola has her own pacifier, which is just one of his infant cast-offs. I handed it to him, he slipped it between his lips, snuggled into his blanket, and didn't make a peep. He woke up at his usual earlier-than-should-be-legal time and called for me a couple times, but then he got quiet. Justin and I fell back to sleep and when I woke up, Justin was in the shower and Eliot was still asleep. It was 7:30 am. It was a Mams Miracle!

And he kept sleeping. Honestly, in the rare instances that he sleeps 'late' I am almost completely convinced that he must have died in his sleep. What other explanation could there possibly be? Our genetic mixing has produced a professional morning person. Seriously, Justin and I have not slept in together since Eliot was born. And it is not unusual for him to wake up before 6am. In the morning. O'clock.

When he finally woke up at nearly eight, I saw the pacifier lying in his crib and realized - holy shit, those things are magic!

What I don't understand is, why now? It reminds me of people who start smoking when they are older than like, high school. After high school, you should be a bit past peer pressure, more informed on the dangers of smoking, maybe your Uncle Larry has emphysema or some other horrific smoking-related disease. Before then, you were dumb and impressionable, and thought smoking was your ticket to the cool kids lunch table. Like the early days of life with a pacifier, a baby doesn't really know better. They don't know, hey, these things are for babies. And you might get addicted to its plastic nipply goodness. So it's understandable that they would give in to the deliciousness non-stop sucking provided by an artificial soother. But toddlers are usually a little more mature and their need to suck has declined. It's understandable that a toddler who used one from infancy would still be a user. But a toddler suddenly picking up the habit? Where's the logic?

But here he is. And folks, I'm not stopping it. In fact, there was a time when I actually considered asking our pediatrician if there were any legal sleeping pills for babies. I was also out of my gourd with torture-worthy levels of sleep deprivation. I will happily let him suck on a pacifier at bedtime if it means that once in awhile, I can actually get the recommended 8 hours of nightly rest. And now I can tell the scientists to stop their Unisom Junior research.

Blame Canada

2008-09-24T18:48:00.004-04:00

Eliot and I were scheduled to depart for Kingston, Ontario via Syracuse, New York very very early tomorrow morning. Due to my cousin Emily's sanity melting around her as a result of a very traumatic move, we will be postponing our visit again. While I'm sad to have to wait any longer to see my beloved cousin and mommy mentor, I am a bit relieved to let go of the stress that came along with planning a trip to a foreign country with a toddler. Sans Justin. ALONE.

The pressure was waking me up at five a.m. with important questions like, "How many diapers should I bring?" and "What snacks should I pack?" or more importantly, "What if we miss our connection in Philadelphia?" or "What if they won't let us into or out of the country?" and "What if a polar bear attacks us when we cross the border?" (That last one was really for Emily, as I'm sure she never tires of all my Canada is really cold, full of wilderness, teaming with large wild animals, covered in red flannel and beaver pelts, etc.)

So a reprieve from the planning stress for now. I know it doesn't compare to Emily's current stress of a 'new' house filled with: plaster dust, boxes, unpainted rooms, existing lead paint, a serious furniture deficiency, and other previously undiscovered dangers, all ready for her three boys to find via cuts, bruises and poisoning leading to possible brain damage. And I promise to help her organize and go house shopping while we drink lattes and eat Indian food next month when we finally make it up there. That should help heal the pain, right?

Just in case you forgot what he looked like.

Samson Rocket

2008-09-22T15:03:00.004-04:00

How cute is this baby? Introducing Eliot's newest friend, Samson Rocket. We finally went to our friends Luby and Anna's to meet him in all of his unbelievable amazingness. He was so sweet and chill and smelled like magic. It really made my ovaries start cheering. And no, that is not a encrypted message telling you I'm pregnant. Because I'm not. Not for awhile anyway.

Fists of Fury

2008-09-19T18:30:00.005-04:00

I've always been a bit apprehensive about trying new things that involve physical exertion. But now that I'm a 'runner' (yeah, I know that doesn't really seem right to me either) my confidence in that department has been slowly increasing with each morning of jogging, and has left me susceptible to the influence of other, more experienced, exercisers.

Anyone who has seen my normal day-to-day movement is well aware that I am almost totally lacking in any sort of physical grace. I was not a natural in a tutu and was never encouraged to take a gymnastics class. I bump into things; I fall; I have an unnatural number of bruises from door jams and low coffee tables. I once got distracted by a man on one of those motorized scooter carts, and just fell to the sidewalk, shredding my hands and my favorite jeans. That's only one example. I have actually walked into poles and hit my face on street signs. I am not what most would describe as 'coordinated'.

When Elizabeth invited me to the Turbo Kickboxing class that she co-teaches, my initial reaction was, "NO FREAKING WAY!" But she's so sweet and encouraging, "You can do it!" and "It's not hard, really!" that I couldn't help but trust her. She wouldn't lie to me, would she? I stressed again and again - I am not coordinated, I do not catch on fast, I know we've just met, but I am seriously impaired when it comes to following any sort of choreography. I cannot even line dance. She must have seen a special light shining somewhere inside me, waiting to kickbox its way out, because she persisted, and I finally started to believe her: I can do this! It will be easy! And fun!

There were a lot of women in the aerobics studio (the word 'aerobics' should have been enough to tell me that I was in the wrong place) waiting for class to start when I arrived. Most of them were already sweating. Meaning they had just been working out before coming to TURBO KICKBOXING. Elizabeth strapped on her headset mic and I darted to the back of the room. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought, "Oh my god, I look terrible, I really need to kick and box some ass tonight". And then I quickly took five steps to the right, out of view of the wall mirrors, and next to a nice older looking lady, in attempt to boost my failing confidence.

The dance music started pumping and Elizabeth mentioned something about Phase 33. She started calling moves into her mic and the whole class went into synchronized action. And me? Let's say musicals were real life, with everyone singing and dancing in perfect harmony, and I was a space alien dropped into one of their numbers. I had no idea what was going on. Everyone was punching and kicking and turning and dropping and kicking and punching. I tried desperately to keep up, all the while feeling the weight of my ass being thrown up and down and back and forth. My natural reaction in times like these is to just laugh. And let me tell you, I was really yukkin' it up in the back row. When I couldn't keep up, I just kept moving and punching and occasionally kicking. I'm sure I looked like a freaking epileptic octopus - legs akimbo and arms a'jiggling. I hoped no one would look at me for fear that they would start laughing too.

About a half an hour in, the music stopped and everyone proceeded to 'shake it out'. I was relieved that the class seemed to be ending early, as I couldn't picture myself enduring the remaining 15 minutes of self-imposed humiliation. But Elizabeth did not take off her mic. She simply changed the CD and asked if anyone had any questions about Turbo. I looked at the older woman beside me, who would have been a smiling chorus girl in life's musical, by the way, and said, "That, what we just did, that wasn't TURBO?" She smiled and the music started bumping again and off we went.

But I made it. I didn't die. I did manage to pull a muscle in my neck during the cool down. THE COOL DOWN. As everyone shuffled out, Elizabeth, barely sweating, asked me what I thought, and all I could muster was "Uh, yeah, that was not a beginner's class." She smiled her sweet smile and I had to forgive her. After all, I did get a good laugh at myself and I was sweating out half my body weight so I must have burned some calories. My legs felt like they had 50 lb weights strapped to them and I celebrated the accomplishment that was walking out to my car.

I took the longest, hottest bath of my life when I got home and dreaded waking up the next morning with screaming, seizing muscles. I am all too familiar with that brand of pain from all of my previously failed attempts at overzealous fitness. But the most amazing thing happened: I wasn't sore. Not until the next day, which was kind of like thinking you dodged a hangover only to have it appear a day later than expected. Kind of not fair, but you knew you deserved it. And it wasn't even that bad. The good kind of sore even; the sore that means you worked it but you didn't break it.

Elizabeth wants to know if I'll come back. She must have a lot of faith in me. Or she's just not going to tell anyone that we know each other. I have to admit that there were moments when I was actually getting the routine that I thought, I could do this - just need a little practice and I'll be kickboxing my way to flat abs and buns of steel in no time. I think I'll go again. Partly due to peer pressure and partly due to testing my own limits. I will, however, remain in the back of the class and I can't guarantee I won't laugh at myself the entire time.

Photo Break

2008-09-18T14:08:00.003-04:00

Some of you have been clamoring for some new photos of the Baby Butter. Feast your eyes on these:

Breakfast at Na's.

Yes, that is a pink bib. We are open-minded. Plus it has Elmo on it, so he'd love it if it was covered in flames and dog turds.

Does an ice cube qualify as a 'snack'?

I think he might be trying to get our attention...

Run, Baby, Run

2008-09-17T11:00:00.000-04:00

I've always had this fantasy that I was really good at running. I often dream that I'm jogging the sidewalks of my neighborhood and it's effortless, exhilarating even. I would enviously watch runners in the park and think "It looks so easy". The problem with making this aspiration a reality is that I kind of totally hate exercise. And I feel like a Cathy cartoon just writing that. AACK!

So when my friend Heather and I started talking (as we so often do) about bettering ourselves, specifically our bodies and overall health, we realized that we both had the same aspiration of jogging glory as well as a shared distaste for the process of getting there. We made a pact of sorts; Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings, rain or shine, we would meet up and jog for about half an hour. To be more clear, we would walk, talk, walk, talk, walk, jog, walk, talk, walk, walk, talk, jog, and repeat.

At first I thought I'd better not post about my new endeavor, as so many of my exercise dreams are usually brought to a crashing halt the first time I wake up, hop out of bed, and collapse in muscle pulled agony on the floor. But then I realized that if I told the whole Internet what I was doing, I would kind of have to keep with it. Which is the same reason Heather and I decided to run together: if no one was waiting for us, we'd just as soon stay in bed.

Four mornings. That is the number of times I have hoisted my sleepy head out of bed and pulled on my sad excuse for running clothes. Does a sporty nursing bra count as a 'sports' bra? Are yoga pants that were generally considered pajama wear acceptable? Did I mention that my running shoes are hand-me-downs from my sister Laura? I guess it really doesn't matter, as it's all getting the job done. We jog a little longer, a little farther, each time. I still would rather stay in bed, but every time, as I'm jogging the final block to our apartment, I get a little of that feeling I have from my dreams: exhilaration. Who knew that was even possible?

Bye-Bye Summer.

2008-09-16T13:17:00.003-04:00

Till we meet again.

Eliot's last day at the 'pool'.

Is it wrong?

2008-09-15T19:07:00.001-04:00

For me to get really, really excited when the outrageously expensive whole grain high-fructose-corn-syrup-free bread is buy one get one? And then is it really wrong for me to say aloud, in the store, "Score one for the Visnesky's - YES!" Should I be wearing extremely high waisted pleated and tapered jeans?

Food Fight

2008-09-13T14:11:00.002-04:00

Eliot is generally a good eater. He prefers anything noodle-based of course and will consent to eating some sort of vegetable and/or fruit matter daily. His consumption is not the issue. It's what happens when he's satiated.

The throwing of the food. It will be my undoing.

Sometimes, he sweetly says, "Mama, done," and hands me his dish. This is a rare occurrence, but regular enough that I continue to give him plastic bowls and plates of food, instead of tossing his vittles on the tray. But usually, he says, "Mama!" looks me right in the eye, and throws a half-full bowl of cheesie, fruit, couscous (that is the worst), etc. one way or the other. Cut to me wiping up the floor and wishing that the mice living in the walls would sew me up a beautiful gown for the ball, a la Cinderella.

It's obvious that he does this to get our attention. We've responded with firmness, "Eliot, no, we do not throw food," and frustration "NO! WE DO NOT THROW FOOD!" and then sometimes with defeated apathy, which is us just staring at him, then the floor and walls covered in his dinner, and then back to him. I'm pretty sure this is a phase, however, if anyone has any useful advice as to how to speed up its conclusion, it would be much appreciated.

Miraculously, chocolate ice cream cones NEVER end up on the floor. Hmmm, can he live on those?

The Latest Obsession

2008-09-11T14:21:00.005-04:00

Eliot is currently completely obsessed with all things bubble-related. He even has a song:

"Bubbles, bubbles
Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles,
Bubbles, bubbles
bubbles!"

There's a guitar accompaniment, but that would be too difficult to write out in words. There's no actual 'tune' per say, but it definitely qualifies in the song, not poem, category.

Usually this bubble mania is reserved for the tub or for when I blow (and he eats) bubbles on the front porch while we wait for Justin to come home from work. But after a particularly long post-nap crab session, I realized I needed to get creative, and thus, the Bubble Tray was born. I'm pretty sure that I did not invent this, but I have no qualms about letting Eliot believe that I did. As the title of yesterday's library story time book implied, Mommy is Magic!

Shirtless-ness is a requirement.

Sing it! "Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles, bubbles, bubbles, bubbles!"

And the requisite arty turtle close-up.

Shameless Spouse Promotion

2008-09-09T13:36:00.008-04:00

Hippo Poop

2008-09-08T13:57:00.004-04:00

I mistakenly explained to Eliot that all the fish swimming around with the hippos at the zoo happily feast on hippo poop for dinner. Now every time he sees a one in a book he points and proudly announces "Poo-poo!"

Dorkathalon

2008-08-25T14:14:00.003-04:00

Please take a look at ilOve Olive and check out the Dorkathon competition getting started over there. I am hoping to compete in all 10 events, and I encourage you to either do the same or add your name to the judges pool (and then, of course, VOTE FOR ME!). I have surely lost the first event, but I assure you, my dorkiness will prevail.

I love these boys.

2008-08-23T14:39:00.002-04:00

Photo courtesy Elizabeth and Adam Frick

Commence Commenting!

2008-08-23T00:28:00.004-04:00

As promised, here is the link to the text version of KSDK Channel 5's I-Team Investigation concerning the Frick's battle to insure their sweet baby Olive. This is a link to the video. Please have a look and leave a comment! Hopefully if enough people express their outrage, Golden Rule will be forced to insure ALL adopted children, regardless of their health status.

When Blogs Collide

2008-08-21T19:25:00.005-04:00

It's sort of strange the almost celebrity being a blogger creates. Although, as I write that, I realize that it's not something that I identify with. I'm not saying that being a blogger makes me feel like a celebrity. Because the only things that will make me feel like a celebrity are champagne and a fancy mansion. And paparazzi; lots of it.

Take Dooce, for example. She's something of a celebrity, she's on national news programs, interviewed by prestigious newspapers, featured on NPR. And those of us that read her site feel like we know her. Even though we don't know her. It's something that is so pervasive that I even kind of feel like my real-life friends are quasi-celebrities, but only when I'm reading their blogs.

I bring this up because a fellow blogger, Elizabeth (her blog is password protected, but I assure you, it's great) and her husband recently adopted their daughter from Korea. She chronicled their journey to their baby daily (daily - someone updates their blog on an everyday basis? Is that even possible?) and I was freaking riveted. Every day brought them a step closer to Olive and I seriously was in tears when they were finally united. Did I mention that I had never met Elizabeth prior to this?

Turns out, they live in our neighborhood. I knew that she was a crafter from Rock N Roll Craft Show, but we had never been formally introduced. I had become an avid (obsessive?) commenter on her blog, and finally thought, hey, this woman is a mom just like me, and a new one at that, we should hang. Eliot can always have more friends, especially very chubby, very cute ones.

So we met for coffee and a walk and then a post-walk/possible torrential rain hang-out session. And we talked and talked about our kids. Eliot acted all aloof like he didn't notice Olive was there. And then of course, when we got home he talked all about "Allah" (Frick, not Muhammad) as though he had spent the entire visit actively playing with her and attending to her every need.

Part of the reason why I tell you this story revolves around a soon-to-be public battle the Fricks are about to embark on. Olive was born with some health issues, issues Elizabeth and Adam were aware of before she was adopted. When they arrived home from Korea, they were greeted with a letter from their insurance company telling them that Olive would not be covered AT ALL by their policy. This is especially stressful as they are both self-employed. Upon further investigation they were informed that she was denied because she is an adopted child. If she had been their biological child, this would be illegal. But she is their child, despite the fact that she was born half a world away, as anyone who spends five minutes with all of them can plainly see. They are a family. And what their insurance company is pulling is discrimination, pure and simple.

Tomorrow night during the 11 o'clock post-Olympic news, KDSK's Leisa Zigman will be doing a piece on their case, and I think it is so important that we as a parenting and blogging community rally behind them. If you are not in St. Louis, the video will be available on the station's website, and I will be posting a link on Saturday morning. If you could take a few minutes to leave a comment on their site to express how shamefully the insurance company is handling this, I'm sure they would really appreciate it.

Bloggers unite!

Limited Edition Help-Fund-an-Awesome-Show Print Sale

2008-08-16T16:45:00.005-04:00

Justin is working to raise money for a show he is curating and showing at Snowflake/City Stock here in St. Louis. He's keeping the list of artists under wraps for now as he is waiting to hear from one more photographer, but rest assured, it's going to be perfect. How can you be a part of such an important event ? I'll tell you. You can go to Justin's photo blog and buy one of his prints. People, these things are priced to move! And you can spend your days staring at the back of a witty blog-writer's head.