Parentals

The parents are coming, the parents are coming!

Hide the booze! No wait, keep that out.
Hide the drugs! No wait, keep the advil handy.
Hide the porn! Oh, whoops, that's a Disney movie.

It's a Boy

In hindsight we’ve learned that those first magical words, “It’s a Boy!” don’t hold a lot of significance for the first few years. Because when you’re holding a sweet, smooshy, fresh from the angels newborn boy, thoughts of future mischief and mayhem aren’t even queued up in your mind.

The last few months seem to have solidified Colin’s awareness of his position among the male species like never before. And we find ourselves a little confounded by the seemingly sudden disappearance of our little baby. Yes, I know he’s nearing forty pounds and is as big as many four year olds, but he’s still our baby bumble.

Maybe it’s because Colin burps with abandon at the table and giggles at the result. Skinned knees graced with coveted neon Band-Aids are displayed proudly as badges of honor. Boogers are explored and presented to Mommy with pomp and circumstance. Kisses for “bonky head” are collected like so many seashells. A request to not yell in the store is immediately received with a screeching crescendo and a “just try to stop me in public” gleam to the eye.

Or it could be the proud exclamations of “I tooted!!”

Perhaps it’s when, while on the potty and erm, exploring his boyness, he looks up at me at the result of his, uh, explorations and says, “Potty Prize!” with a huge whole-face smile. (how did I respond? "That's one way to label it. Now quit touching it and go pee.")

I think it also has something to do with an innate male knowledge that a hammer must be banged on something, cat tails must have been made to be pulled, flirty eyes can get you out of a jam, and that when running nude through the sprinklers, you might as well sprinkle back.

It’s a boy, indeed.

Update

So, I got the word this morning that I didn’t get the job with the Big, Really Cool Company that is headquartered in my town. I won’t get to just do it after all.

I’m not really surprised. Here it is three months into the process, seven interviews later, with countless questions about my ability to be “flexible” with my schedule. From my point of view, I'm totally flexible, but it doesn't seem like they can be flexible back. It's a two way street buddy.

I’m not surprised, but I am a little sad. Or rather, my ego is a little sad. I wanted to be the rock star communicator who flew around the world solving communicationsish problems.

But since I don’t have a rock star ability to disregard the needs of my two menfolk, it’s for the best.

So I will continue to plug away at my not-bad-at-all job and try to enjoy the low stress of it all.

Uh oh

Colin came home with a message from daycare.

"Please don't use the d-word around Colin."

Apparantly the dropping of a cup at lunch elicited an "oh dammit" response from our boy.

Rob looks at Laura, Laura looks at Rob. Whoopsie.

Progress

The green prozak garden is coming along nicely. From L to R we have fennel, onions/leeks, celery, carrots (purple and normal), beets and in the background you see tomatoes, peas (good lord, lots of peas), cilantro and lettuce. In the beautiful raised bed (thanks Rob!) peeking out in the back are pumpkins, sunflowers and basil. The cukes and zukes didn't make it through our abnormally late spring snow (gee, wonder why) and I've been too out of town to replant them. Maybe if I find time.

I think I "weeded" out most of my beets by mistake (hey, it could happen to you - do YOU know what a sproutling beet looks like? No really. Do you know? Because I'd like to avoid a repeat beet massacre) because I currently only about three beet plants. I replanted some seeds today to see if anything will happen.

Rob's cousin came over for dinner tonight and I was just a wee bit proud to serve homegrown salad, and a yummy sauteed pea and young fennel dish as a side.

I have had limited success having Colin "help" me in the garden. The last time I tried, he helped me by uprooting a basil plant that was having enough troubles of its own holding on in our lame Northwest summer sun-ish. Considering I most likely butchered my own crop of beets, I couldn't hold it against the little fella. I did a quick transplant and I think it's going to make it. Maybe. We'll see.