So That's What Sleep Feels Like

Jack must have known I was thisclose to throwing in the breast feeding towel simply so I could get some sleep because we went to bed at 10:30, and he didn't budge until 3:45. Then we all slept until 7, except for Harry who slept until a quarter to 8. The extra 45 minutes this morning gave me and Ben time to lovingly admire Jack, listen with real joy to his coos, and find the perfect spot to tickle under his chin to hear his delicious little laugh-- all the things that poor little Squish doesn't always get to enjoy but were facts of Harry's coddled babyhood.
Thanks, Grandma Karen for the ridiculously cute Baby Gap tank top. Squish says his own little thank you to me for not making him show his guns by allowing him the dignity of an undershirt-- but the undershirt in question has a puppy embroidered on it, so we're not talking about very much dignity, you know?

Not only is Jack a happy spitter, he's a pretty cheerful faller-downer, too

Squishy isn't he?


He's napping right now in his Pack n Play, and Harry is singing quietly to himself while he eats breakfast. Harry and I already whipped up a couple dozen cupcakes, and Jack spent a good 15 minutes happily (and spastically) jabbing the hanging toys on his bouncy chair. We have a kick ass play date lined up for this afternoon, and I think I might even buy some shorts in a relatively okay size today. Wow.

Although I gotta tell you, the shopping front has not been sunny these days. I stopped by the Urban Outfitters by my office (when I applied to grad schools, the proximity of Urban and Potbelly to my office scored this university major points. Shallow much?) yesterday because they were having a sidewalk sale, and I realized I was either too old or to uncool for just about every stitch in the store. Even the sunglasses. When did this happen? ( Also, the spider veins in my legs-- what the hell?)

Part of it is the wardrobe limitations imposed by breast feeding-- most of this season's adorable sundresses are not for me But the rest of my sartorial angst is because of age and ignorance. I didn't pay any attention to trends last year because I was pregnant and doomed to wear belly panels and flat shoes for 9 months and now I am all Huh? when I look at the racks.

Sometimes, I still wear gaucho pants, people.

I am not sure exactly what mess occasioned the wearing of Ben's shirt, but it must have been a doozy. This shirt, by the way, was purchased at Urban before we got so old. Also before we realized this ironc T might be light on irony. Kidding. I kid because I got so much sleep!!


We continue to love cooking class, by the way. As you can see, Harry takes both making and eating extremely seriously. Last class, he mad a strawberry meringue tart with graham cracker crust and a mango chicken empanada-- he even made his own dough. Harry is the youngest kid in the class, so most of the ingredients end up in his tummy as opposed to his bowls and pans, but he always listens so heartbreakingly carefully and won't accept any help (by myself, he says). And he always totes his creation home in a takeout box to eat for lunch. While eating, he exclaims, "I love it! I love it!" So do I.

He had a pretty adorbale convrsation with little girl in class, too. It went like this:
Little Girl: How old are you?
Harry: Nothing. Just 2. (He answers all questions with "Nothing" or "Actually")
Little Girl. I am 3 years older than you.
Harry: Okay, Girl.