A Glimpse

I simply can't accept that this joyful and blissful season is coming to a close. I haven't even made Christmas cookies or finished all of the Christmas shopping that I had planned to do. What I have done is enjoyed myself immensely. Every pine needle, every card, every song, every sweet, and every smile on the little one's face made this season so bright! The best part? That smile (and those needles. sigh) will last into and through the new year! Yes indeed, I'll take that kind of joy!

Most of our holiday pictures are still waiting to be transferred to the computer. Hopefully they'll get there before this time next year. In the meantime, here's a smattering from the phone. 

visiting Santa / admiring the tree

holiday kisses and a lunch outing / school party with Santa! / a long winter nap

Icky

You can't tell from his sweet smile, but our boy is sick: sick enough to cry for hours, stay home from school, and lose his insatiable appetite. He has a nasty little virus (perfectly common for children of his age, perfectly common in daycare settings) that took our little family by surprise this week.

We fetched Henry from school on Monday and were told that he had a great day. By the time we arrived home, it was clear that things weren't so great. The littlest one was hot and crabby, and that crabbiness lasted through the night (and has shown itself all week, to tell the truth). Happily, my sweet, sweet mother came to our aid yesterday morning. Henry is on the mend and I suspect it's attributed to the extra love and hugs that only a grandmother can give.

Welcome, December (and Breaking Up Is Hard to Do)

December, how I have missed you
and your winter wonderland!
Your frosty mornings and brisk days.
The scent of wood smoke in the air.

Try as I might, I have found no traces of a winter wonderland during these first days of December. Henry has worn a short sleeved shirt and played outside. On Sunday we had rain showers reminiscent of a spring day. The houses on our street are decorated in the season's finest and, though it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, it certainly doesn't feel like it when I step outside.

It does taste like the holidays when I open this sweet little jar. Cookie butter is delicious!

This weekend we will go on a Christmas tree hunt. I'm most interested in seeing how the ever-curious Henry will handle a great big tree in the foyer and hoping that he will be in such awe that he won't want to touch it. I saw a cute felt tree idea on Pinterest that I suspect would entertain him quite nicely. Sadly, it seems unlikely that a certain mother will get around to crafting such a tree. Maybe next year...

Wintry weather and holiday cheer aside, Henry started a new school this week. Though it was a welcome change, bidding farewell to Henry's friends and teachers at the old daycare was harder than I had anticipated. I was left feeling as if I had just gone through a bittersweet (and almost embarrassing) breakup. Happily, Henry, who is showing no signs of a broken heart, is making new friends and enjoying his new teachers.

Thankful

Feelings of thanks aren't reserved just Thanksgiving in our house. I am frequently overwhelmed by our little family's blessings and am ever thankful.

My greatest source of joy is, of course, these two silly boys:

We had a happy holiday week(end) with my family--eating, talking, drinking, walking, and playing. What could be better?

Les petites obsessions

I have a problem, a mild obsession. Sippy cups. I can't get enough of them.

The obsession started innocently enough. When Henry turned 4 months old, I thought it would be a good time to start offering him water from a cup. We got a traditional, soft-spouted cup with handles, nothing more than a glorified bottle. One wasn't enough; I got more, just to give them a try. Several cups in, I read that speech and language pathologists suggested that sippy cups and bottles are not ideal for speech development. Straws are (perhaps) better. I rushed to the store and purchased a straw cup. And another.  And another. Henry took to the straws like a kitten to milk. I was satisfied. My research ceased. And then, I started thinking again. Henry likes drinking out of my cups. I reasoned that, perhaps, he was ready for yet another new cup.

I found it. A perfectly wonderful, spout-less, spill-proof cup.

Isn't it lovely?
[source]
Playtex Spoutless Cup

Of course, I haven't Henry hasn't gotten a new cup in months and I'm starting to get antsy...

Mishmash

Whew. How is it possibly November already? It seems that the last time I looked at a calendar, October was just setting in. But it's cold outside. The trees are bare. We had a snow day at school last week. Thanksgiving is just a few weeks away. Between grading papers, planning lessons, writing college recommendation letters, and spending time with the boys, I can scarcely remember the last time I sat down at the computer just because. J Crew could have an entirely new line and I wouldn't even know!

I had big plans to write a post and upload photos this past weekend. Those photos? They were on my phone. And my phone got a sudsy wash on Saturday morning. The pictures are gone. Happily, Nate sent a sweet face to my inbox yesterday morning.

Henry is going to be 15 months old on Saturday. Good gracious! The boy wakes up happy and goes to bed happy each day. He loves to play and to dance. He has started giving real hugs--wrapping his arms around our necks, squeezing, and burrowing his face. His sweetest development is reaching up to hold hands when he is walking somewhere. Feeling his little hand in mine just makes my heart glad.

Falling for Friday

We love Fridays and beautiful fall weather around here.  Every crisp (Fri)day and every orange pumpkin makes us smile, especially when the pumpkins are smiling, too!

Post Weekend Musings

An excerpt from an email I sent to my father last Thursday:

"I'm ready to do anything and everything that doesn't involve teenagers, hand sanitizer, quarters, or fluorescent lights. I'm sure you can't imagine why any of those last three things would make me ready for a weekend!"

Maybe my memory of high school is blurred, but I don't think so.  I don't remember chairs covered in hand sanitizer or quarters being thrown at lights over and over and over again.  If anyone wants to chime in, please do.  Did these kinds of things used to happen?  Was I blissfully unaware of inappropriate and unnecessary antics taking place around me?  

Our weekend was exactly what I had envisioned.  It was free of pesky distractions and full of pumpkins, breakfast dates with my two favorite boys, walks, and playtime. 

out to breakfast!

must.have.papa's.beer!

telephone practice.  eggplant discovery.

 

Catch up

(Random and unnecessary side note:  Nate insists that I pronounce ketchup "catch up."  In my book, either is better than saying "catsup.")

1. Gone are the days when I could spend hours curled up with a volume of Hugo, Balzac, or Dostoevsky.  I just don't have the time, energy, or attention span for some of my favorites.  I do have energy, if not time, for books that don't require as much attention: a bit of piffle, if you will.  So I was intrigued when I saw Gone Girl popping up in numerous book reviews.  As soon as I started reading, I was hooked.  It's just the right balance of intriguing, thought provoking, and fun.


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 2. Also gone is our low utility bill.  I used to keep the house at comfortable 63 degrees during the coldest months of the year.  Earlier this week when I walked into the house, damp from the pouring rain, I shivered as I read the thermostat: 65 degrees.  I promptly set the heat to 68 and basked in its warmth. 

3. Henry is a walking machine.  It's darling, really.  He is also kind of sort of talking.  This week he added "shhh" (shoe) and "ba" (ball) to his repertoire, and they aren't just random utterances  I don't want to be one of those "my child has 103 words now and those words are..." parents, but the first words certainly are exciting!

4. Fall is finally here.  Pumpkin everything is on my mind, though I have yet to pull out my measuring cups and bowls and turn on the oven to actually make something.  Maybe this weekend?

Comfort

At the end of my pregnancy, I decided that Henry should have a special blanket, one that we could introduce early on and that he would grow to love.  Silly me. 

This is Henry's crib. 

It looks like this every night when I put him to bed.  At the back, you see: an Issie Blanket, a soft Sophie, and a silky bear.  On the right, there is a cozy and soft organic blanket.  And on the left?  One of my old pajama shirts.  After all of my searching, all of the love I poured into my choices, Henry's comfort object is my old purple shirt.  I'm touched, really I am.  I like peeking in to see him sleeping with the shirt snuggled under his chin.  And yet, I still search for the "perfect" blanket: a blanket he'll carry with him on trips or use as a cape or a picnic blanket.  One of these days, perhaps I'll accept that this is his comfort and not mine...

Henry and the purple shirt 
He spent 15 minutes putting the shirt in the washer and taking it out again. 

Beans and Baby Steps

Thanks to my dearest friend in high school, I've always kept an eye on Martha Stewart.  She's an impressive lady.  And her one pot meals?  Amazing!  Nate and I made Black Beans and Sausage earlier this week and our bellies were full and happy.  On paper (or on screen, as the case may be), it looks good, though a bit blasé.  Mais non!  It was delicious!  I'm already dreaming about my next steaming, delicious bowl of this stuff.

[source]

Now, on to more important things.

We were beginning to think that Henry might crawl forever.  I imagine that he has been thinking to himself, "I'm fast!  I'm too fast to bother with walking!"  It's true.  The child is fast.  He's practically graceful as he glides across the floor and makes his way up the stairs. 

And then one day last week, I picked him up from daycare and was startled when I heard the teacher say, "...and he took twelve steps today."  I was shocked (and still not sure if I believe that he took twelve steps).  One part is true: he is taking steps, baby steps though they may be.  And it's adorable.  He looks so elated and so startled when he takes a step.  Of course, that startled look in his eyes could be because a certain mother squeals every.single.time he shuffles his little feet.  Oops!

Standing tall and ready to play at school

Why, yes!

I've always been a bit of a weeper.  I thank my mother for that gift.  If I'm overwhelmingly happy, hello damp eyes!  If I'm too tired or just plain sad, there they are again.  If I'm angry, hurt, scared, worried, I've probably got tears in my eyes to prove it.  Commercials, greeting cards, books, newspaper and magazine articles, students doing well and students doing poorly, Henry taking a step or having the sniffles--any of these can be enough to get the waterworks started. 

So when I read (I can't stay up late enough to watch!) Michelle Obama's speech, yes, I cried.  I don't think it matters what one's political beliefs are, it was a moving speech and she is a genuine and awe-inspiring woman, wife and mother.  And she's beautiful, classy, and fashionable, too! 

She spoke with love: for her country, for her husband, for her children.  Her passionate words affirmed women, in particular our role as mothers.  Bravo and thank you, Mrs. Obama!   

[source]

"Because in the end, more than anything else, that is the story of this country – the story of unwavering hope grounded in unyielding struggle.

And I say all of this tonight not just as First Lady...and not just as a wife.

You see, at the end of the day, my most important title is still "mom-in-chief."

My daughters are still the heart of my heart and the center of my world."

Michelle Obama

Little Gymnast

Henry is working on a new skill: headstands.  In his bed, on the floor--if he can try, he most certainly will. 
Olympics 2028?

Sweater Weather

It's 90 degrees outside and I'm dreaming of fall.  This sweet little French hen might be just the thing for the crisp mornings that (I hope) are just around the corner. 

[source]

Delicious!

I We made it through the first week of school unscathed and are ready for a new week.  Much of last week's success was due to a spectacular soup.  Soup is a favorite in our house.  Nate likes it because we can make healthy, vegetable-laden vats.  I like it because we can make vats, which lead to leftovers; leftovers make me a very happy lady. 

Needless to say, when I found this beautiful lasagna soup over at A Farmgirl's Dabbles, I was intrigued and knew that it was the perfect soup for a busy week.  Truly, it's so good that you can ignore the fact that you are eating a steaming bowl of soup when it feels like a suana outside.  We made it on Sunday and were more than happy to eat it over and over and over again. 

I'm sure the soup would have been perfect as written.  I'm a tweaker by nature, so we made a few tiny changes.  We only used a pound of sausage and ladled the soup atop a bed of freshly steamed spinach.  There were no bay leaves in the cupboard, thus no bay leaves in the soup.  And we didn't make the "cheesy yum"--not exactly.  A dollop of ricotta and a sprinkle of parmesean gave us the cheesy goodness without an extra bowl to wash.   

Vroom! Vroom!

Henry loves just about anything on wheels.  The car and the stroller have been favorites since the beginning.  Lately he has started to push his toy cars and dumptruck around and completes his playtime with little "vroom vroom" sounds.  Adorable.  And now the little man has his own set of wheels. 

so pensive.  riding a trike is serious business.

If you're in the market for a new trike, I highly recommend the Radio Flyer.

Back to School (or Why I Don't Exercise)

School starts on Monday; I'm excited and ready.  I like being in my classroom, coming up with new lessons, and socializing.  I work with my closest friends and my dear aunt.  There are no dull moments and no day is the same.  It's busy, fun, sometimes overwhelming, and always rewarding.

messy desk, clean desk.  

There is a flip side to this happy little work life:  Henry.  The (sometimes harsh) reality of working is that your precious, sweet, only little once, bundle of joy spends the majority of his (or her!) time being cared for by someone else.  The first day that Henry went to daycare, I dashed to fetch him as soon as the dismissal bell rang.  I carted him home, snuggled up with him on the couch, and promptly burst into tears when I realized that...wait for it...he smelled like someone other than me!  I was ready then and there to write a letter of resignation and never leave my baby again.  Fortunately, I returned to work the next day and the next and the next and before I knew it, we had settled into a happy little routine and Henry was being loved at school by his sweet teachers and at home by Nate and me.

We kept to our routine pretty well over the summer, so starting back to school won't be too much of a shock to our system.  It will be a shock to the clean house, but that's another story.  Our routine is finely tuned and keeps my on my toes, quite literally.  There are days during the school year that I don't sit down until after Henry is in bed.  This is what a typical weekday looks like:

I'm sort of tired just thinking about it.  But, I have a new set of pens, easy dinners planned, and my clothes picked out for the week.  Let the games year begin!

Oh yeah, Henry turned 1!

Henry turned one this past Friday.  I could wax poetic about the momentous day and the quick passing of his first year, but it wouldn't quite be true.  We had a quiet day and a happy celebration, just the three of us.  We ate pizza and carrot cake and Henry was in bed by 7, like always.  We spent the weekend taking walks, playing inside and out, and Henry got a new tooth.  It was all very mundane and perfectly joyful, just like every other day and that makes me glad.  It was so mundane, in fact, that I have yet to upload any photos from the day.  They will come, just as soon as I can tear myself away from dumptrucks and spoons and other fun things!   

The Underbelly

And so it continues...

There is a lot of old brick, crumbly wood, and dirt.  Oh, the dirt!  I'm pretty sure I saw an animal bone or two (or maybe an elephant's tusk!) down there, but I didn't want to look too closely.  Happily, the end is in sight. 

Milk (mustache)

I started fretting over the imminent switch to whole milk when Henry was about 9 months old. I'm good at fretting and like to indulge in a healthy dose every now and then. I read and read and read.  I developed a plan. It was simple: we would begin a slow transition at 11 months and he would be drinking nothing but milk by the time his first birthday rolled around.  Happily, Henry was already drinking his formula with meals out of a straw cup, so the timing and procedure didn't present anything new.

Nature had other plans.  

On a pleasant Friday afternoon, I drove by Target and thought that I really should stop and pick up some formula (Henry was drinking the Up&Up generic and we were down to a few remaining scoops).  I rationalized that we would undoubtedly need something else later in the weekend; it would be prudent to wait.  And then the derecho swept through and my prudent plans blew out the window.  Target lost power and we had no more formula.  I did what anyone with power and a carefully detailed transition-to-milk plan would do: I found an operating grocery store and bought milk.  The boy needed a drink, after all!  Drink he did and we bid a quick farewell to formula and to my fretting, which had all been for naught.

 
The best part of Henry's new affair with milk is that we now have delicious, creamy whole milk in the house. A longtime soy (with a short splash of almond and oat) milk devotee, I have rediscovered just how wonderful a bowl of cereal with real milk can be!

Hello, old girl!

I returned home from a happy morning spent papering my bulletin boards at school to this:

Our dear house, stripped down and fully exposed to the street and the passersby.  Poor old girl!

What started as a simple "hey, let's redo the porch floor boards!" has quickly morphed into "let's tear off the front of the house and start over!" (insert rapidly beating heart and shortness of breath here).  That's the problem with old homes. They look so darn pretty with all of their antique makeup on, and then you peel back the layers and...yikes!  Wrinkles and age spots everywhere!  I'm sure all of the reconstructive surgery will be worth it if we end up with something that even remotely resembles the beauties I've seen on Pinterest.
With any luck, I'll be updating soon with sunny photos of our little family, happily nestled on our new, tastefully decorated porch.  And by tastefully decorated, I mean an art easel for Henry and a folding chair; a decorator I am not!

La Plage

We just spent a glorious week at the beach.  I realize just how fortunate we are to have had a week-long vacation, full of sun, water, naps, and delicious food.  But?  A week away from home with a babe and a 10 hour drive on each end?  Ahem.  That is not vacation.  It is crazy and fun and exciting and exhausting and something that I can't wait to do again!  Happily, Gam came along for the ride and made the experience all the more relaxing and a lot more fun!

I learned a few new things about Sir Henry (I'm feeling very British, thanks to the Olympics):

He's a much better sleeper than I give him credit for.  Actually, I knew (and am ever thankful for the fact) that he is an AMAZING sleeper.  However, for months and months I have been creeping around like a mouse after he goes to bed, which makes for a lot of creeping since he goes to bed around 7.  And poor Nate, who really doesn't enjoy being mouse-like, is compelled to do so as well.  At the beach, there was no quiet.  Yes, I whispered between the hours of 6:30 and whenever we adults went to bed.  Yes, I was careful not to allow my fork or knife to clank against my plate during dinner.  My companions were not so careful; the boy never woke up once.

He is sensitive to heat like his mama.  Where there is heat, there is heat rash, and that's just no fun.  Believe me, I know.  (Side story:  Once, while in France, I was miserable, hot and covered in a heat rash.  I went to the pharmacy and, in the heat of the moment [no pun intended], told the pharmacist that I had une affection de la peau--a skin infection.  How ladylike and charming.)  Fortunately, my husband and my mother are of much heartier stock and didn't let a little rash confine us to air-conditioned quarters.

He loves sand.

He loves dogs even more than sand.

He is the most delightful boy in the world (but I already knew that)!

We got to go out on a real date!

Notice the toothbrush in his hand.  The same brush that he toted to the pool with him.  Nothing like encouraging dental hygiene at a young age. 

I had a cute post written for yesterday.  It was titled "Sweet and Sour."  The sweet was about how, on a recent lunch date, Nate and I were asked if we were newlyweds.  And the sour...well, I was still working on that part.  And then I saw something that made the sweetness in my life so much sweeter.

I was running errands, in a blissful state after finding bubbles and a few little beach toys (68 cents!) for the boy.  As I walked to my car, I heard angry voices.  Two women, one of whom was in a wheel chair, were a few spaces away from me.  And there, in the broad daylight, in the middle of a very public parking lot, I witnessed what I can only describe as physical and emotional abuse.  When all was said and done, there were police and an ambulance, and I went back to my sweet little life, still feeling quite sour, angry and mostly sad.

I ironed.  I played with Henry.  I talked to Nate.  All the while, I had Peter, Paul and Mary (thank you, Daddy, for my musical education) singing in my head.

I can ease the suffering of this world

With my head, my heart and my hand

With my heart I can feel

The ebb and flow of life revealed

Pain and sorrow all will heal

With love and true compassion

"Of This World" by Peter, Paul and Mary

And this morning?  The song is still echoing in my head and I'm left wondering how I can help ease the suffering.

Bookworm

Henry has discovered the joy of eating banging reading books.  I'm sure that I have a ridiculous grin plastered on my face each and every time he grabs a book from his basket and maneuvers it so that he can flip through the pages.  These days, he'll sit on the floor or in his chair and look at his books for minutes on end.  That's hours in the land and time of babes!

Sometimes, he gets distracted, throws his books aside, and climbs into his basket.  That's what baskets are for, right?

Shaggy no more

Henry had his first haircut on Saturday morning.  Our hairstylist turned friend, Ed, met us bright and early, eager to get his scissors on Henry's locks.  Per usual, Henry enjoyed the attention and didn't make a peep the entire time.  The result?  A boy who looks like he's about to turn one!

before...                                   during...

after!

I think I'm next on the list.  My efforts to let my hair grow have resulted in an unsightly mullet; it's not quite the look I am going for when I go back to school next month.

There haven't been many pictures taken around here lately.  Between lots of playing, summer storms, and bits of travel, snapping photos of Henry and organizing my thoughts succinctly just hasn't happened.  Tant pis.  Instead, I offer you a string of random thoughts and happenings.  

I accompanied Nate to a meeting one day.  While he did his research thing, I basked in the sun.

Stonewall Resort 

Henry is developing a gourmand palate.  He has tried (and liked!) enchiladas, Thai food and French toast, along with a host of country homey treats at school.  He doesn't really like to be fed these days; he wants to do it himself.  He has started saying "yeah! yeah! yeah!!!" when he gets really excited.  He has been spending his days in the 1 year old room at school.  He likes circle time but not art (exhibit A).  He is in desperate need of a haircut (exhibit B).  He is growing up and I can scarcely stand it.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B
At any moment he looks like he's channeling the look of The Beatles or of Justin Bieber.  I hope it's not the latter... 

Another thing that I can scarcely stand is that we are in the peak of summer.  The long and lazy days will soon be winding down.  Admittedly, I'm a teeny bit excited for August.  I love being at home.  I love how clean the house is and that all of the ironing is done.  I love going to the grocery store on a random weekday morning.  But I miss the energy of being at school.  I especially miss the students.  Teachers aren't supposed to have favorites and I don't.  I have preferences, students who are especially sweet or shockingly acerbic, frequently inappropriate, and oh so entertaining in a way that only teenagers can be.  Their hilarity makes me simultaneously grin and groan.  And don't even get me started on new school supplies.  I have visions dancing in my head (thank you, Pinterest and Erin Condren).  But it's a summer Sunday and maybe I'm not quite ready to really start thinking about all of that...

Various and Sundry Things

I love air conditioning.  During the heat of summer, I often pause and think to myself "thank heavens for AC!"  I'm not joking.  Best. Invention. EVER.

We went to Charlottesville a few weekends ago and feasted on delicious Thai food while gazing at the mountains.  I love the WV mountains, I really do, but there is nothing that compares to that view of the Blue Ridge.  Or the spice of drunken noodles.  Sigh.

The boy has a new favorite spot, perched on his chair, looking down at the street below.

Sometimes, he likes to wear his father's glasses while enjoying his evening bottle.

Wearing glasses is better than wearing wood chips, that's for sure!  Henry developed a most unfortunate habit of teething on his crib rails.  Post-nap, I would find little chips of crib on his cheeks and sheets.  Of all of the things I thought we would need for a baby, crib rails guards never crossed my mind.  Henry now has a snazzy set of padded bumpers gracing the top of his crib--a tasty new treat in his book, I think.  

Baby Beluga

After months of singing "Baby Beluga" (Raffi, anyone?) to Henry and looking at pictures of the little white whale swimming in the deep blue sea, Henry finally has a chance to swim in the deep blue pool at a parent/child swim class. It's definitely a hit!

Summer

Three cheers for summer!  I can finally catch up on my neglected blog and focus on a certain almost-one-year old.  I'm taking a break from lesson plans, colored pens, piles of papers, and all things teen.  That is, after tomorrow when I attend a class picnic with my future seniors.  After all, even if it's summer vacation, when invited to a picnic by a group of teenagers, you get excited and you attend.  Henry will likely tag along.  He likes the "big kids" and they like his chunky thighs.

Henry is less of a baby and more of a little boy every day.  He is crawling, cruising, and climbing up the stairs.  He is chattering, eating anything and everything, and giving hugs and kisses.  I have no doubt that this will be an amazing summer with him as my sidekick!

Muffins

Henry loves, loves, loves muffins!  He is definitely my child!  Last week, I made him a batch of basic banana muffins. Yesterday, I made something even better: carrot, zucchini and banana muffins!  These things are practically a meal.  I had seen pin after pin after pin for Toddler Muffins on Pinterest.  The muffins looked tasty, but not quite healthy enough for my little fellow.  It is summer, and zucchini is everywhere.  Why use something from a jar?  And babies are sweet--they don't need that much extra sugar!  So, here's what I did:

1 zucchini, grated
2 carrots, grated
1 banana mashed

1/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 tablespoons Canola oil

1 cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
cinnamon
ground ginger

I mixed the wet ingredients, added the fruit/veggies, then sprinkled the dry ingredients on top.  After a quick stir to combine everything, I filled 10 greased muffin tins and popped them in the oven (375) for 20 (or was it 25?) minutes.  They turned out to be tasty, though not pretty, little treats, and good enough for me to eat for breakfast, too.    

When he's away...

I will play!

This is my idea of a party (and Fox agrees!)...a glass of Riesling and the most artificial delicious ice cream I could find.

My personal chef husband has been gone all week.  I actually don't remember the last time I ate something green.  I have been surviving on frozen waffles (organic!), school lunches (cheese fries!), bananas, and ice cream.  And to think that I used to be the healthy one...

9 months ago...

Nine months ago, I was nine months pregnant.  Nate and I finished off our last dinner as a family of two.  He went outside to cut the grass; I did laundry, tidied the house, washed dishes, and then, with a tee-shirt stretched over my very pregnant belly, plopped down on the couch to write.  I could scarcely contain myself.  I was nervous, excited, thrilled.  I barely slept that night (or any night for almost a week after that), so anxious was I to meet our little baby boy.

Nine months ago, I had no idea what I was in for: the tears and fears, the joy and laughter, the overwhelming love.  I had no idea that, in nine short months, one little fellow could, and would, so radically transform my life.

I certainly had no idea that this wrinkly little bit...

...would turn into this little boy!

Thursday's thoughts on Friday

• Henry's teachers referred to him as a "little Casanova."  Apparently he's popular with the little girls, who spend their days smiling and giggling at him and trying to play with him.  Who wouldn't want to play with this little fellow? 
• My sweet husband wears a shirt and tie to work.  I iron his shirts.  Except for when I don't.  And then I end up with a stack of 20 shirts needing to be ironed.  That's how I spent my free time last weekend.  I know what I should, but won't, do tomorrow.  
• Months ago, said husband asked if I would like to spend Mother's Day alone with Henry, just the two of us.  At the time, I laughed and told him that wasn't really my idea of the ideal Mother's Day.  As it turns out, Nate will be out of town, so we will be spending the special day alone and I don't mind a bit.  I think Henry might just take me out for breakfast.   
• The giant neighborhood yard sale is next weekend.  Thinking of all the things I could sell, I signed up.  As the day nears, I am remembering how much I dislike yard sales.  The very idea of it makes me let out an exasperated sigh.  But I have approximately 172 onesies and sleepers that I'd like to be removed from the middle of the guestroom floor.  I'll be selling them for a quarter for a (hopefully) quick and painless sale.  
• There is one month of school remaining.  That requires no explanation. 

On the Move

As of last Saturday, Henry is officially on the move.  He's not fast and doesn't go very far...yet.  The little man seems very pleased with his new skill. 

Henry also loves to dance.  As soon as he hears music, he stops, listens, and then starts to bob and shake in a most adorable manner.  Is there anything cuter than a dancing baby?  Certainement pas!

Lately...

The past few weeks have been full, the happiest kind of full that is neither too busy nor too slow.

We celebrated Easter.

We developed an odd obsession with socks.  No, I'm not kidding.  The boy loves socks!

While Nate jetted off to Vancouver last week, Henry and I hopped in the car and made our way to Charlottesville via Iron Gate, Virginia.  What's that?  You've never heard of Iron Gate and you've lived in Virginia all of your life?  I, too, had never heard of it until forest fires pushed us off of the highway and onto a most circuitous detour.  The best part?  Seeing a Quebecois car scolaire.

We wined.

And dined.

And played.

A very full few weeks, indeed!