Stride Wrong

Because Harry finally outgrew all of his 6-12 month Robeez (meaning he could finally wear these 12-18 month cuties from his grandma), we decided to buy another pair of Robeez-- you know because loafers only go with so many things (actually, they go great with the 95% of Harry's wardrobe that is khaki, plaid, or seersucker, but still, a kid needs variety.) When I was little, I had a pair of white leather sandals from Stride Rite that I remember really liking, so I decided to give it a a whirl-- I have been in before to browse the huge wall of Robeez, and I liked what I saw.

Today, however, Stride Rite was a disaster-- shoes flung everywhere, barefoot children crawling on benches, strollers piled high with packages and abandoned between rows of soft-soled tennies, moms in mom capris and mom Crocs clutching pleather mom bags and running exasperated fingers through their mom hair, pleading with their kids to calm down and wait for the "nice lady" to help them.

Harry and I picked out a pair of blue Robeez with pirates on them (because pirates crack me up, and I'll buy anything with a parrot and a peg leg), but I decided what the hell, I might as well get his feet measured and maybe snag a pair of sneakers, you know for all the sports he plays. After waiting FOREVER, and watching dozens of moms and kids pour into the store (my favorite was a mom/grandma combo wrangling toddlers and sporting really really really fake Burberry and Louis Vuitton purses, respecitvely) and only a couple trickle out, we were finally approached by a harried saleswoman, who told me that Robeez are dangerous with their thin leather soles that you think are perfect for developing arches but are really perfect for stomping on broken glass and rusty nails, and I should go ahead and buy them, if I didn't mind all of the extra tetanus shots and ER bills.

I was all, oh my god, I never thought of it like that. And she was all, yeah, you need to upgrade his shoes, lady. So I asked her to please measure his feet, and she was like, okay, do you have a number? That's when I looked around and noticed that everyone else was clutching paper numbers, like this was the freaking DMV. I apologozed and said I didn't notice the number thing, but I had been there for awhile. Then, Stride Rite lady told me she couldn't help me and I'd have to go to the back of the line. Faux Louis Vuitton offered me her number, making me feel like shit for my silent mocking, but I left, all huffy, figuring I could find baby shoes elsewhere. Maybe Crocs, at the very least.

The moral of the story?

Seriously, Stride Rite, you are not the only place where a mom with too much free time can take her newly walking baby to have his fat little feet measured and stuffed inside overpriced leather shoes with flexible soles. You are not even the only place in my mall. AND by walking out on you, I got to support local business and buy Keens-- baby kicks with environemntal consciousness. So, HA! Oh, and? I am a total spendthrift and would have totally bought the extremely dangerous Robeez AND some sneakers, if only you hadn't insisted on a number and you totally work on comission, so DOUBLE HA!

Harry, by the way, is an excellent shoe shopper. He loved having his feet measured and sitting on the bench while the saleswoman doted on him. He loved wiggling his toes inside the shoes and stomping around the store to test them out. He did form an abnormal attachment to a pair of green Crcos, but I talked him out of them, thank goodness! Here he is modeling his new kicks:

Home Sweet Home

Clearly, Harry has been busy redecorating. On our drive home today, he danced a lot in his carseat, and while listening to "If You're Happy and You Know It," (more than once) Harry clapped his hands in all the right places-- so cute.

Ha ha, Jon! While you were flying home today, I was trying on your clothes! Don't worry-- I had my clothes on, too.


Finally, we got the shower wall fixed, and I can take bath pictures of Harry again. You know he is as glad as I am. We had to wait until Harry and I, the regular bathers in the house, went to camp because the shower was inoperable for several days, and Ben didn't even have to alter his beauty regimen to accomodate the repair work. Trying to save water or just dirty? Anywho, here's Harry.




He lets us know that he's finished bathing by standing up and dusting off his hands, saying "Done, done, done."

Hung. Over.

OMG. Happy Birthday, Dan.

I had 3 drinks (one of which I spilled halfway through, almost severing Ben's toe with my shattered glass. I took that as a sign that it was time to leave). 3 drinks is 2.5 drinks too many.

We didn't even fight.


How many pictures do I have of me and Misty JUST LIKE THIS from college? Too many. Super senior year, anyone?

Why Bradley creeps me the eff out. Seriously they are too tame and cat-sized.

I am almost 30, and I cannot drink anymore. Home by 10:30 and still hung over 28 hours later. And puffy. So, so puffy. Before pregnancy? I couldn't even TASTE vodka anymore. Not that that's healthy or anything, but still. My. head. hurts.

I Still Miss Him

But speech camp is almost over, and then I will have all the Harry I want 24/7. Ahhh, and to think that only a couple of weeks ago, I couldn't wait to get a break.

Clearly, Harry has learned some new cleaning skills, which will help us all at home, since we have, in fact, lost our cleaning lady. Scandal. Who will clean our toilets and mop our floors now? Harryella, of course. Cinderharry? Not sure.


Yes, he actually is eating a powdered donut. I have nothing to say except he liked it and at least it isn't a cheese poof. Or a second ice cream sundae. Or one of easily 2 dozen chocolate chip cookies. Yes, he ate all of those things and also chicken strips. And he helps himself to cookies now, if they are within his reach, which is cute and also annoying since he is quite grabby, and I love cookies, too.



Let's see. What else? While I have been helping high school orators solve the problems of the world (and while I've been spending hundreds of dollars in vending machines, at coffee shops, and by eating everywhere except the cafeteria where my food is free-- oh and get this-- today, I actually want to use my meal card to have dinner with my kiddies, and I can't find it, I think because overzealous Harryella threw it the eff away), Harry has gotten a new hair cut at his grandpa's favorite barber shop, has gotten about a million new toys and some cute little outfits, has eaten a pluot (half plum half apricot, which should be called a plapricot or a plumicot, duh)which looked like it bled all over him because it's really red and fleshy, and has learned how to give and blow some really cute kisses. He's also working on his 7th tooth, which is on the bottom right and has been really slow to poke through the surface, resulting in some really fun nights.

Also? He lurves the sprinkler, which he calls the round and round.





He learned how to unscrew caps, a skill he demonstrated on a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and he says water bottle, which may be his funniest word to date because it sounds like he's yelling when he says it.

Sorry so long no blog-- I have been busy at camp solving high school dramas! Oh, the dramas...

I Miss Mah Baby

A lot. I just saw him for lunch and got all "Well maybe I should just keep him here with me" beause I couldn't untangle the carseat straps in he thousand degree, muggy P-town heat. I may possibly have told my mom I was going to quit my job, and there is even a remote chance that I said the same thing on Ben's voicemail. Now I am cool and dry with a water, a fresh layer of make up, a new hairdo, and a bit of J'Adore body lotion (thanks, Mom). Unlike me to freak out like that, huh?

Some pictures of Harry eating today-- because that's the only time he is still enough to pose for a picture.

He looks tired, and he just woke up-- maybe our walk wore him out.






Here he is messing around while I got dressed.

We went to One World for lunch, where Harry made a huge mess and fed his Uncle Ben, who very politely ate all the food Harry offered. Then Harry kicked him in the balls.




Here's Orville Reddenbacher-- I mean Jon-- he had to work late, but he made it for lunch! And a trip to the Bradley bookstore, for a basketball and a hoodie. The he went back to making his delicious popcorn.

Camp Update for Ben

First of all, I couldn't be a WOHM right now because being away from Harry from 8:30-5-ish SUCKS. So happy I will always have flexibility. Yes. School for eleven or twelve years for flexibility.

Second of all, Harry is adorable, and he misses his Daddy.

Third, I forgot my power cord, so this may be brief.

Fourth, I heart Dunkin Donuts coffee.

Harry with his Garndma on Saturday afternoon-- he is covered from eyebrow to diaper in the remains of a watermelon snow cone, by the way.

Harry experimenting with these newfangled things called "dishes." Note: Dishes are MESSY.

Harry and Ben came with to the the staff meeting/brunch I had on Sunday morning, and here they are enjoying each other's company. Also, baskets rule.








Harry hanging out at the library with me on Monday night-- he is not library appropriate, but he is play-outside-the-library appropriate.



After bath, a lotioned-up Harry avoided the dread Clean Pants by scampering around the upstairs with my wristlet.



Someday, he will take issue with these pictures being posted online, huh?

Cookie Monster

Ya think Harry likes cookies? We're off to speech camp for 2 weeks in Peoria-- Harry will miss his Daddy SOOOOOO much, so expect lots of pics to help keep Ben abreast of our activities (ha ha! breast! ha ha!)