Haircuts: DID NOT LIKE

Bemused driving

Dora-induced tolerance

Joy riding

Is-his-chair-funner-than-my-chair consternation

Total freaking meltdown upon being asked to "look down for a second" while she trimmed the nape of his neck

One sad, sad tear rolling down one sad, sad little cheek

Tootsie-roll induced tolerance/ no-lollipops? disbelief

Bemused cruising

Self- feeding-- Jack's excellent adventure

He was puzzled to see his breakfast in tiny pieces all over his tray, but he'll eat anything soaked in butter-- it doesn't have to spooned through his little lips; he'll use his fat fingers if he must.

He even got some organic, preservative-free, whole grain* waffle in his mouth

How big is Jack? So big. Duh.

How big is Jack? Too busy eating this crap on his tray to fully answer the question, that's how big. Look at that mushy handful of mush.

Look at all the organic, preservative-free, whole grain cereal bar in his hair. Crunchy. And hard to remove.

He's very proud of his new skillz.


*I was going to make some sort of joke about the yuppie food he eats, but I couldn't think of one-- so now it just sounds weird.

Plagued

Oh my god. I have been so sick. I have whatever the kids have/had (have, really, even though it's been over a week-- poor Jack had a low fever just now when I was putting him to sleep which means he probably will not sleep tonight-- and why should he, really-- he never STTN on Sundays, the little weirdo). It's some sort of horrible virus that brings with it fever, body aches, a rattling chest cough and an upset stomach. Also a really bad attitude. Also the inability to sleep from 2 am to 5:30 am. I thought this was just Harry and Jack trying to kill us last week (We did not sleep last week at all. On Thursday, in fact, we literally only slept from 11:30-2 and then I slept a teeny bit from 5:30-7-ish and Ben got up with Harry the early riser), but then I laid awake from 2-5 the last 2 nights, achy and shivering and miserable despite my Tylenol and Motrin regimen (the same meds we give the kids). So I'm sick. Harry is better except for a runny nose and the aforementioned bad attitude (Seriously, he took off his pants and underpants and peed all over his Build a Bears who were minding their own business in his IKEA tent. He is only happy when he is eating crackers in his airplane cup while watching Toy Story 2, which he calls-- inexplicably-- "The Girlfriend Movie."), and Jack still appears to be under the weather. We went to the doctor on Thursday, and he said it was a cold. Awesome.

Since I already felt like total crap, we thought we'd have lunch Saturday at Chuck E Cheese.

Jack dressed for the occasion

Harry brought his 'tude

We took turns playing ski ball one-handed while holding Jack

and still had to pay seventy-four cents for this pirate get-up, argh

When we got home, Ben noted that I appeared to have vomit on the back of my sweater. Odd. Neither of our kids puked. I took a picture of it just for you.


Here's Jack sporting a particularly nice bath mohawk




Ben and I had a ridiculous fight this morning about me being sick because he was sick one Sunday a month or so ago, and I yelled at him and told him nobody gets to be sick on Sunday because Sunday is CLEANING DAY. I bucked up and cleaned the house, but first we took Harry and Jack outside to play in what we hope against hope is the last snow of the season.
Bundling up is always a bit of a struggle.



Okay, so here are a lot of Jack pictures. His blank stare CRACKED ME UP-- this is how he looks when there are bubbles in the air.






Ben and Harry shoveled.

Okay. So. Here's the thing. I want to be done done done done with my dissertation in 5 weeks. So, for the next 5 weeks, it's just me and Planned Parenthood, at least when I am in front of this screen. I'll post when I can, but I really need to work. And not update my Facebook status 56 times a day. Wish me luck!

Okay wait. Now it totally works for me-- is it okay for you?

Can you see Jack the drooly zebra rider?

Technical difficulties

Eeeks-- not sure why there's no content loading, but if you click each post on the sidebar, it still loads. Anybody??

Dear Harry and Jack,

What the heck, guys? We haven't slept in 3 days, and I am starting to take it personally.

Jack-- Sunday nights, what's going on there, buddy? Why is this night different than all other nights? GO TO SLEEP. Love the top teeth, buddy. Also, stop biting me.

Harry-- dude, 3:23 am? What's wrong with you? That's the middle of the night. It's not talky time, not TV time, not awake time. GO TO SLEEP. Great that you took off your own pants and undies and peed this morning. Next time, try the toilet. Or even the bathroom. The wood floor and all over mommy's BlackBerry? Not the best spot. Sorry that you tripped in your own puddle, and hope you liked your morning bath. Also, nice shoes.

A case of the Mondays, and Jack is 10 Months Old and will soon be driving my car.

He's ginormous. Also uncooperative. Also does not sleep through the night on Sunday nights.




Have to go do puzzles with Harry so he will quit nagging me, but let me just tell you 1. We had a romantic lovely Valentine dinner (with wine flights and rose petals and champagne and delicious courses of deliciousness) and when we got home, Harry woke up and told us that he puked everywhere. Which indeed he had. And he kept puking everywhere all night long. Dreamy. 2. As soon as I wrote Friday's post about how awesome my diss was, I got an email from my advisor that was less than awesome, to say the least. So. Yeah. 3. Jack's nose is a faucet, and someone appears to have smeared something nasty all over my camera's lens that makes this all look like a hazy dream sequence, but I assure it was real.

My Funny Valentines

So the revision process is going better than I expected. By the end of this month, I will have redrafted all my chapters, my intro, and my conclusion. I'll spend March making it all pretty, and I hope to give it to my committee (which may or may not still be missing a member) by April 1st. But April 15th is my absolute deadline. I should be defended by early May-- so I guess I was perhaps wrong last year when I feared I wouldn't have a PhD while I was still 30. Maybe. Keep all your phalanges crossed. I wouldn't be shocked if something terrible happened, especially since I just wrote all that down ON FRIDAY THE 13TH no less. Yikes. But anyway, the whole point was not to pat myself on the back or to fish for compliments (although that's how it sounds, and I am starting to wonder, with increasing intensity, why I am not deleting any of this). I was leading up to a point: Even though things have been going well, the chapter I am working on right now is horrible. Like shockingly bad. All of the other chapters have been boring and missing things like topic sentences and transitions, but they have made very clear arguments, and they have dealt with clearly defined moments in history. This chapter? No boundaries, no argument-- I keep making all these grandiose claims about clergy support for Planned Parenthood, but I never say HOW or WHEN or give any examples from the ARCHIVAL LITERATURE. It's like I handed my dissertation over to an eight-grader and said, "Here, you take a crack at this. Maybe you can use it for social studies class."

So that's why I am blogging right now, not suffering through more pages of really bad writing. Also because Harry and jack have been cute lately. Which is good because that's pretty much their job.

This guy has started naming all his toys. usually things like Pooky, Cooky, Tooky, and Toofy (a band of pirates), but the other day, he told me that his favorite action figure (a choking hazard pirate dressed in splendid blue plastic) is named Taint.

He has also been playing with my phone all the time, and he has a terrible knack for dialing my advisor-- especially when I am saying something awesome like "Can't you guys just shut up for a second"" or "I don't care if those are for your friends. If you drop your Valentines again, you can't got to school." (that's right-- if you're clumsy, you don't get no edumacation.)

He is also the naggiest nagger in the whole nagging world. If he asks for milk once, he asks sixty thousand times. He asks Ben at least 26 times if he can have a blanket and some socks during his before bed tv viewing time (shut up; don't judge us-- it's only 15 minutes, and we also read books).

He finally gets jokes and is really fun to tease because he gets super upset (I wonder where he got that character trait? Not his total freakshow of a mother, that's for sure). He can do knock knock jokes, and I am stoked to teach him some weirdo Vaudville routines as soon as Jack can be his straight man.

We got the spring and summer YMCA activity catalogue in the mail, and I was telling him all the activities for 3 year olds. I mentioned soccer-- no response, karate-- no response, basketball-- no response. Then I said ballet, and he said, "Ballet? For me?" Then he squeezed on a pair of Jack's Robeez and twirled around the room, telling me he was the "ballet guy." I am totally excited because we walk by a ballet class on our way to the daycare room at my gym, and it is a-dorable!

They can finally play together, which means I can sometimes check my email or pluck my eye brows for a few minutes (about the eye brows-- OMG-- my bangs are so long that I don't notice them, but I happened to glance at them in the mirror today while stopped at a red light, and I seriously have 2 caterpillars on my face. Nice.)

But any period of peaceful playing usually ends in something bad happening to Jack. The other day, Harry pried his fingers off of the Little Tikes piano that sits very classily in front of our fireplace, and Jack thudded to the floor and started to cry. I gasped, and Harry said, "I think I better go in timeout," and fled to the bottom step.

Tiny Jack doesn't mind the rough treatment, though, because he loves Harry more than anything in the world.

Definitely more than this creepy bear.

Jack is the sweetest, happiest little guy these days

Not only have I almost forgotten how awful things were when he was a screamy, pizza-face, disgruntled infant, I have also completely forgotten what life was like without him. It couldn't have been as lovely as life with him, that's for sure.

Happy Valentine's Day!

(Harry and I are going out for breakfast before LG tomorrow, and he asked me why (because he asks why about fifty five thousand times a day), and I said "Because you're my Valentine." His reply? "No I'm not. I'm Miss Connie's Valentine." That sound you just heard? Nothing. Just my HEART BREAKING!)