Where We're At

I love when I come home at night to find the babysitter has taken a few snapshots of Abby throughout the night. I will title this one "The Scent of Tom Foolery":

I spent Fourth of July with the Flanagan family. We joke all the time that I'm his second wife, since I am there nearly every day up in his business. This photo just adds to that drama. We both have hands on our shoulders -- which hand is his? Where did the other hand come from? Why does he look so dang happy? We need a reality show.

Denise, the golly green giant.

Abby's kita is closed for a three week vacation. I filled our schedule with plenty of day trips and crafts to keep us both sane during this time. It's hard deviating from my regimented weekly plan, but I'm learning to be flexible and attempting to not spend my days worrying about the house, or what needs to be done, or what I forgot to do.

I am in the process of trying to get Oliver to eat anything other than baby food. He gags on anything for babies older than four or six months. He won't eat any baby crackers, toasts, treats, cookies, etc. Gosh forbid I try to mash any bananas or vegetables with my fork and let him have a bite. Basically, he won't eat anything that isn't nearly liquid. There has been a lot of choking and vomiting on this side of the world. In his defense, he turns one in two weeks and he doesn't have a single tooth to help a brother out.

Being the crazy helicopter parent that I am, I hijacked my one-year doctor's appointment to have his gag reflex checked and his gums looked at. The doctor's advice was for me to calm down and let him eat whatever he wants to eat. I just hate having to remember to pack baby food all the time. It would be nice to just be able to feed him off my plate and cut out all the extra steps in between.

I am so happy for Jeremy to come home and train this dog. She is making the neighbors -- and I -- crazy with her renegade barking and fence stalking.

Abby is so clever. We went to a baseball game a few weeks ago, and in the short time it took to get the blanket out of the stroller, put Oliver on it, and turn around, Abby had disappeared. I found her about 15 feet away at the concession stand waiting for her hot dog, grape soda, and sour strings that she so independently ordered. She had paid the lady with money she had taken from my purse when we got there -- "I took the big bills, Mommy." You've got to be kidding me! This girl is three going on 30.

Abby taught Oliver to stick his tongue out, which he spends about 90% of his day doing. It reminds me of those little dogs that can't close their mouth. Yup, I get licked a lot.

Is it sandbox pouting time already?