If you want to know how I feel about my Beans, go read Girl's Gone Child's homage to her little boy on his eighteen month birthday. It brought me to tears because I just know. I know. But I could never put it into just the right words.

Moms. I love them.

And, in case you didn't know, the Beans will be Fifteen Months Old next Friday. Cake anyone?

The Pie's first attempt at photography. 

In keeping with past milestones, almost exactly two months to the day that HRP took her first steps, A Squared made her first attempt. She's up to two or three at a time before falling into a fit of giggles, but she's a determined little bean. She gets right back up and tries again. The problem is that she's too busy giggling to regain her composure and balance to continue. Plus, little Twinkle Toes is always at the tips of her toes while trying. That same day (Saturday), A finally mastered the art of food to spoon to mouth, and repeat. Go A!

How five days off can seem like one day.

We visited my alma mater on Wednesday. Rather, my best friend and I sat in a condo on the outskirts of my alma mater for half the day, scolding/chasing/soothing our four children while intermittently catching up on events since our last chaotic get-together. And she’s going to bring another kid into the mix?!?! What happened to dinner and drinks?

Thanksgiving. Visiting with the in-laws. Allergic reaction emergency. Stopping at parents for medication and to put up half of their Christmas Tree. Visiting with the extended family. Thinking, why do we, on holidays, get the girls all dolled up, take the Beans to an unfamiliar home and subject them to [well-meaning] strangers who coo and fawn and beg to hold them when clearly it’s the last place they want to be? The end result of every family get-together is us carrying our limp and defeated little Beans up to their safe crib and then falling into a pile on the couch, wondering why we left the house in the first place.

Black Friday. Or rather, “Yeah, right Friday.” I don’t love anyone enough to stand in a line at Target that is wrapped around the perimeter of the store. Nor do I need that twenty dollars I would have saved had I waited three hours. The bonus was that I got to sneak out for a bagel and coffee while J manned the fort. Later that day, we braved the crowds for lunch with Gramma M and a little sale at the Baby Gap. Later that evening, after the Beans were in bed, J and I put up the tree. The Sixth Annual Christmas Decorating Extravaganza was likely the last one we’d spend alone for the next twenty or so years. We passed out on the couch watching Home Alone. A success!

On Saturday, Gramma M. had a little post-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving Dinner for our wee little family, since we missed out on Gram’s Dressing (my paternal grandmother’s recipe – the grandmother that M is named after). We purchased half the lights available at Target and scoured the internets for instructions on how to hang outdoor Christmas lights. Yes, you read it correctly. Remember, this is a couple who refused to move into any home with such incentives as, “A cozy fixer-upper!” or “Just waiting for your personal touch!”

Sunday, bloody Sunday. Well, we put the lights up. In light of the fact that the event did not result in threats of divorce or more than one injury (and really, it is just a little bruise, who are we kidding?), I’d say that it was a success. And it was confirmed with a resounding “Wow!” by both Beans when we showed off our handiwork later that evening. After the lights but before the light show, we took the girls to Borders and B&N to grab a magazine (J), a book (M&A) and a coffee (MB). Let me just tell you, M may be the shyest of the two when it comes to relatives, but she was all “How’s Your Day?” when we were at the bookstore! She practiced her more graceful walking all over the store, befriended a little boy who was making a Christmas list and passed up a little whipped cream for the lady with the big red bag. As evening crept in and the Beans were in bed, I surveyed the house for signs that things were accomplished on my vacation. I concluded that it was a wonderful five days but wondered if I was being a little selfish if I lobbied for a sixth day off to rest.

 

 

 

 

HRP likes her men caged. 

The One Where Bert and Ernie Made Me Cry.



It's the eve before the beginning of Christmas Season. We mark this celebration with a feast of turkey, dressing and pumpkin pie. Thanksgiving is just the meal the fuels me for the weeks to come. On Friday, we will put up the Christmas tree and cross our fingers that it doesn't come crashing to the floor once in the next several weeks. I've almost convinced myself that there won't be an incident, despite the fact that said tree will stir much curiosity amongst the Beans. I'll also begin Christmas shopping this weekend. I'll coax J into putting up Christmas lights. I pull out my favorite Christmas movies and put them on rotation for the next month. J is worried that I'll get worse now that the Beans are here. Last year I didn't have the time or the energy to dive into the season, as the girls were only three months old, I was just back to work and we had just moved into our home.

Yesterday, I caught A Sesame Street Christmas Carol with the Beans at my parents' house. I was preoccupied with the latest People Magazine, but A began chanting fervently when Rubber Ducky came on the television screen, "Duck! Duck! Duck!" I started watching with them.

It was the part where Bert and Ernie each think of the perfect gift to get their roommate. Bert decides to get a soap dish for Ernie to leave his beloved Rubber Ducky. Ernie is determined to get a cigar box where Bert can safely keep his prized paper clips. Both of them go to Mr. Hooper's to get the gifts, first Ernie, then Bert. Neither of them have any money, but they want to get just the right thing for the other, so both of them part with their most prized possession. Bert trades his paper clips for the soap dish and Ernie trades Rubber Ducky for the cigar box.

It is actually possible to see the range of emotions on their faces. Really! My eyes began to well up when they exchange gifts and realize what the other had sacrificed to bring joy to his friend. In the end, Mr. Hooper visits, bringing gifts for Bert and Ernie. You guessed it. He was so touched by their act of friendship and sacrifice that he brought them their things.

How sweet was that?! We could all learn something from the original AGD!

A Conversation Between Mother and Daughter.

A Squared: This?

Momma Bean: That's Momma's shirt.

A Squared: This?

Momma Bean: That's Momma's necklace.

A Squared: This?

Momma Bean: That's Momma's body.

A Squared: This?

Momma Bean: That's Momma's chest.

A Squared: This!

Momma Bean: That's...erm...Momma's chest.

A Squared: THIS!

Momma Bean: That's Momma's cheh-esss-tah!

A Squared: THIS!

Momma Bean: Boobies! Alright!?!?!?!?!?!? Now, where's your Elmo book?

One day, twenty years from now, one of these girls will have a blog entry about the stupid hat her mother made her wear.

Well, the first illness has come and gone. Everyone chided me for bragging that my girls have never been sick before, but if this is what sick is, then bring it on! I told my sister-in-law the other day that when J caught M&A's cold, he was a bigger baby than they were. But, isn't that the case, with men?

The girls took it like a man! Hah! Sure, they were a little more subdued and were covered in boogers (as was I) and didn't eat as much as normal, but they still played, they still smiled, they still survived! One evening, A went to lay her little head down on the floor while watching Sesame Street and M grabbed her Cookie Monster and curled up next to her sister. They were both feeling it and needed the comfort. They were only laying there for a little bit and then, with renewed strength, they made their way into the kitchen to help me bake cookies (photos to follow).

Everyone in the house caught the cold, including yours truly, which I guess is karma if you believe in it, but I too feel like this is a pretty mild and manageable cold. We have had our first colds and we have stronger immune systems for it. So there!

Grey's Momma Bean's Anatomy

Here's what's in my heart.

Testing out the new seats. It is an adjustment because we don't have the infant carriers to set the girls in while we free ourselves to get the other girl. J doesn't like it. At all. I don't mind it, but then I don't have to carry the girls into my parents' house at 7:30 every weekday morning. The girls like them, I think, because it allows them to look outside the windows and it gives them a lot more room. I L.O.V.E. the Britax and it was worth every minute of the wild goose chase to purchase them. Now I know what everyone raves about. If you are in the market for a car seat and haven't purchased one yet: GET A BRITAX.

ETA: The car seats in the photo are actually the Graco Comfort Sport, which are wonderful car seats in their own right. Here is the Britax Roundabout.

• Runny nose
• Sneezing
• Cough
• Lethargy
• Loss of appetite
• Trouble sleeping
• Idiot mother who tempted the Fates last month by boasting that you and your sister haven't been sick since the day you were born.

Check, check, check, check check.

My bad.

This morning I received an email from my cousin’s wife, who told me that she was getting her (Beautiful! It must run in the family!) girls’ Christmas photos taken soon. My first thought was, “Wait. It’s early November. Why so early?” And my second thought was, “Gaaaaaahhhhh!”

Brilliant!! Getting Christmas photos taken before December so that you’re not stuck in a crowd of annoying, sweaty, sticky children who are climbing on every piece of plastic furniture in the place and scratching you with their itchy ugly holiday gear? I told her that I’m stealing her idea and now am on a mission to find THE OUTFIT (x2) as soon as humanly possible. Please provide suggestions and links in the comment section below.

However, I must admit that there is a growing fear in me of having to endure yet another painful photo session with Little Miss Apprehensive. The One Year Photos still bring tears to my eyes, and not because they are so darling. A is a pro in front of a camera. She knows she’s a doll and wants you to know it too. But M. I was in every photo that Her Royal Pie-ness was in (thanks for the skinny legs comment S, xoxo) and it still wasn’t enough to help her to cooperate. Hell, I haven’t even sent those photos out because the place that I take them (we’ll call it Stears) holds your photos hostage for what seems like three years, rather than three weeks. So, those of you on the A-list, plan on getting your One Year photos about one to two weeks before you receive the Christmas photos.

Getting professional photos done of your children sucks. It’s the event I least look forward to in my children’s lives. However, I feel a strange sense of duty to have them taken on a quarterly basis. Who made this rule? Who thought that it would be in the best interest of the child to dress them up in uncomfortably stiff formal ware and pose them unnaturally in front of a variety of drab, unattractive curtains, sitting or leaning on tacky old props? And expect them to smile for a stranger behind a camera? And then have the parents shell out hundreds of dollars for sixty wallet-sized photos that they’ll send to every relative they didn’t know they had, only to have the recipient stuff the photo in their junk drawer behind the book of matches from a wedding that took place five years ago?

Gaaaaaahhhhh!

Of course I’m going to do it. I said it already, I feel obligated to do so. I don’t have baby scrapbooks (insert reader’s gasp) made, so this is the least that I can do for my girls. So, watch the mail. Thanks to Megan, I’ll hopefully get an early start. Keep your fingers crossed that M is cooperative.

She walks.

Before, it was a step or two, here and there. It was a wobble, a tentative movement of one leg in front of the other, a pause, a collapse. Before, it was all nervousness and hesitance. Before, the praise and applause scared her to the ground and she would scramble, startled, on all fours into my lap.

Now, she follows me on two legs. She walks with purpose towards her goal. She chooses how to move. She climbs. Now she bends, picks up an object and brings it to me. She almost ran yesterday. She taunts us with her skill. Now I am the one who is scared!

WINNER OF THE MOTHER OF THE WEEK AWARD: Not Momma Bean who, when getting the first whiffs of a smelly diaper, often looks at the clock and contemplates whether or not it is good parenting to let the bean sit in it until the husband gets home.

I wear my sunglasses at night.

Halloween sucks. So does my will power. Dr. Oz, please save me. My omentum is the size of a hobbit. Once you're done, Dr. Troy can work on the twin skin.

53 hr. 36 min. Avail.

or

M.O.M. Consumer Tip #2

Pre-bean, anything below seventy-five hours available would have sent me into a tizzy. I mean, what if there were a seventy-five hour 24 marathon? What if F/X held a three day tribute to Julian McMahon’s hotness? Couldn’t chance it. I was so OCD about deleting shows from my DVR that I would do it during every commercial break, driving J nuts in the meantime.

Now, I’m thrilled that I have fifty-three hours plus. I feel like the Oprah of DVR hours, willing and able to throw my leftover hours to the little people who need them more than I do. Once, earlier in the year, I was down to twenty-three hours. I had been saving all of the Grey’s episodes, as well as every Passport to Europe with Samantha Brown and Semi-Homemade with Sandra Lee. I was frantic. Granted, the last time I was in Europe, I was five and the only things I ever made from a Sandra Lee recipe were the cheesecake pops I made for Mr. & Mrs. C last holiday season. But I still needed to have them and I will watch them eventually.

It’s hard to watch anything nowadays. I tell people that I get my news from Best Week Ever or the weekend edition of the Freep. What election? Who’s even running? When the girls and I are home during the day, we watch Sesame Street or a Noggin show. That’s where a quarter of my used hours go. You never know when an emergency happens and you need to queue up last week’s Sesame to narrowly avert a complete meltdown. If we’re not watching the kiddie shows, we’ve got my favorite Sirius Satellite stations on and HRP is (im)patiently teaching me a bit about rhythm. It’s either “The 90’s and Now” or “80’s Hits”.

So, now, we’re very stingy with our time. When someone recommends a good show, I’ll smile and nod and quickly put it out of my mind. No room for that. Our television viewing begins at approximately 8:45 p.m. and ends at 11:00 p.m. every weeknight. With the exception of Mondays, when I host a chat for M.O.M.s and Thursdays, when J watches a horribly violent UFC show that I refuse to see, we generally enjoy the same shows. The weekends are a gamble and we are lucky if we can catch the whole Lions game. We’re always playing catch-up. Right now, we’re catching up on Prison Break. We’re in the third episode of the second season. As soon as we’re done with the episode, delete.

Honestly, I don’t know what we ever did without the DVR. If you don’t have one, get one.

Since Becki is going to do it, I figured I'd step up to the challege too, so I'm kicking off NaBloPoMo with this announcement:

COMING SOON!!!!!

A New! And Improved!

Full of Beans Blog!

Date to be determined...location to be determined.

Stay tuned!