No, it's not his first haircut or his last...

This weekend, we braved the cold, got Wub up early and whisked him off to the salon for his second haircut.  (And when I say salon, I mean salon.  There are no cute, kitschy children's hair boutiques around here; I know, because I've searched.  I don't know why I thought that I would be able to stumble upon one just by happenstance and he would sit in the rocket ship shaped chair and blast off into a new do' while Jim and I waved like the proud parents we are, but that certainly isn't happening.  So instead, we take him to one of the nicest, swankiest places in town.  It costs a small fortune, but they have complimentary coffee and water and delicious crackers and grapes.  So for some reason, these amenities just make it okay to be "payin' up" for a kid's haircut.)  Jim and I had scheduled this appointment a while ago, but it kind of snuck up on me. 

I'm a big fan of kids having longer hair.  I think haircuts immediately make people look older and distinguished; two things that I don't want to pressure Wub to be anytime soon.  However, lots of people in my family were not shy about expressing the need to get his haircut and I had to agree with them.  While I am a fan of "free growing" hair, I don't like it when it's in his eyes.

The week before Wub's appointment, I kept telling Jim that I didn't want his hair cut.  And Jim would say, cancel the appointment, but I never did.  I realized that while I may not want his hair cut, I'm sure he doesn't want his bangs falling in his face all day long.  Also, it's a nightmare when he's eating anything with a sauce or condiment, for example the macaroni and cheese fiasco.  While it's undeniably adorable, it's also a gianormous pain to have to wash his hair every time he gets the urge to smear food in his hair, and he's a baby, so that's his urge just about 99% of the time.

When we went on Saturday, the first question from of the lady waiting next to us was, "Is this his first haircut?"  It wasn't; he got his first haircut on his 1st birthday; something that I'm not sure I will do again.  It was actually more emotional than I thought.  He sat down in the chair a baby and got up looking a lot like a 5 year old; either that or an Amish accountant.  He literally aged right before my eyes.  I held back tears, but I was slightly devastated that the change was so drastic and that he was clearly no longer my little baby.  However, that really only lasted 2 and a half months, because we were back at the salon sooner than I expected, so I got over it pretty quick.

I don't know why I was surprised that we were back at the salon so soon.  Jim has the fastest growing hair.  Ever.  He laments often that he is balding and I'm like, "actually, I think that's impossible."  He could get a haircut tomorrow and by Wednesday he would look like Ace Ventura.  In fact, when I start calling him Ace, he gets the hint and makes an appointment.  And Wub, well he will definitely be on his father's hair cutting schedule and this makes me happy.  For the next week, our families will be happy because he got a haircut, but by this weekend I will be happy because it will start looking "grown in" which is well on the way to being "free growing."  Win, win.

So, without further ado, here are some pictures from before the cut and from after; for some reason, we were on a real picture taking kick this weekend, which makes me happy because our 2011 album is getting off to a good start.



"Free growing" hair, so cute, right?




He knows something is up...




See what I mean about aging instantly, this looks like a first day of school picture.



So cute.

Someone else needs a haircut.  Isn't that right, Ace?

Bottom line: short hair or long hair, he's still the same running around like crazy, climbing up the play pen, conquering the diaper box tower, eating dropped pretzels from the floor little guy, he just looks older while doing it for a little while.

It may not make me a million dollars, but it will pay the cable bill.

It has been incredibly cold and wintry around here lately.  We just got an ice storm yesterday and as you can tell from my previous posts, ice and I are not friends.  The nice thing about winter storms is that we have such a picturesque view out our living room windows, as you can see Wubbles is enjoying it.

Since we are pretty much relegated to the house during the winter months, I can't help but look around at the messiness that is our living room.  We clean it pretty frequently, but for some reason, by the end of the night, it literally looks like we strung together every toy in our house and spread it out across the floor like it was a toy bread spread.

Most of the clutteriness is from the fifty or so books that Wub has; big ones, small ones, rhyming ones, boring ones, classic ones, strange ones, colorful ones, black and white ones and the list goes on an on.  It's actually the books that we pick up almost everyday and what he beelines for when he gets home from school that are the real clutter culprit.  "Read this one!"  "Now, this one!"  "Wait, go back.  Read that last one again..." 

Kids books have become something with which I'm very familiar.  And at least once a week, I think to myself, "Who writes these?  And how much are they making?"

I remember when I was a little kid, my parents and their friends would drink a few cocktails and then get into lively discussions about current inventions, products, ideas, etc. that "They could have thought of!"  (Notice I put the exclamation point, because for some reason, they would always shout out these ideas.)  I even think at different points they may have tried to come up with one of these ideas.  It usually would go like this: someone throws out a product/idea, the group would rally around it with comments like, "There you go, Tom!  That's our million dollar idea!"  And they would laugh and plan and think and that's as far as it would ever go.  (My guess was that the hangover the next morning outweighed the "go get'em" attitude of the night before.)

And so I guess it's a genetic trait of mine: children's books are that "sit around the table and drink a few and wonder why I'm not the next Dr. Seuss" internal discussion.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that these books can be done/written by just anyone, but seriously, I feel like given the proper thought, I could be a children's author.  I say done because seriously, some of the books that Wub loves the most are just pictures and then that word: picture of a dog, then the word dog; picture of a backhoe loader (whatever that is), then the word backhoe loader.  And so, when I read books like that, I think, "Hey, I've got a camera; the neighbors have a dog and there's a quarry not too far away, I could totally write/do a book like that."

See, I could write a book right now, just from looking around at the room I'm sitting in.  Here goes my story: One day there was a little generic store brand cracker who was friends with a bagel crisp chip.  Together, they would do things like, play outside in the snow.  But their friend, generic store brand medium salsa couldn't go outside and play.  His mother told him that he was made of glass and he would break if he played outside.  This made the little generic store brand medium salsa very sad.

So you get the point.  I know that it's a pretty vain thing to think and then discuss and then actually write about, but I mean no disrespect to any children's author; I actually appreciate them very much.  Wubbles is very verbal and curious about everything, something that I think books have really cultivated.  It's a really inspiring thing to have the development of someone elses child be impacted by your work. 

Someone recently told me that they were going back to school to pursue their dream of becoming a therapist and I think that's awesome.  He said that instead of retiring, he wants to start his own practice.  Well that's kind of what I'm thinking I should do.  Once I decide to retire, I'm going to try this whole writing a children's book thing and mothers everywhere can read and reread and clean up my books from their living room floors for years to come. 

The happy train has been boarded and we're stopping here and there.

There have been a few things recently that have made Wubbles and I very happy; here goes.

What makes Wubbles happy:

• 1 Mommy and Daddy's Bed Lane.  Seriously, the kid has all but taken over our bed.  For a little guy (he's only in the 40th percentiles for everything) he takes up so much space.  He's a restless sleeper and often times he will sit up in his sleep; eyes tightly closed and then fall back over as hard as he can.  Another of his favorite things to do, lay with his back pressed against Jim's face/head/shoulder and prop his little feet up on my upper back.   Ahhhhhh, the life.
• Macaroni and Cheeseville.  So, it's no secret that Wub is a picky eater.  He really takes after my Dad's side of the family, he has the nutritional will power of some high performance animal; he eats to live.  Which is so odd, because I live to eat.  I gave him 1 mini cookie last night and he played with it for a half an hour.  Played with it?  He didn't shove it in his mouth and then beg for more like I would totally do.  He didn't nibble at it for ten minutes, savoring every infinitesimal chocolate chip, as I have done.  No, he just looked at it and licked it and took a few bites. It turns out, what he really wanted was the empty cookie bag so he could put the cookie in, look bewildered as to where it had gone and then dump the bag back out, "Oh look, my slobbery piece of cookie!"  So when Wub finds something he likes, he lets you know; hence his love affair with Bob Evan's mac and cheese right now.  His eyes light up with excitement when Jim puts the black plastic container down in front of him; if I'm not cooling and piling (meaning, blowing on the mac and cheese to cool it and down and putting spoonfuls on his highchair tray) fast enough he isn't a happy camper.  Last night, as we were eating, I heard Jim laugh.  I looked over at Wubbles and he was a total mac and cheese mess!  So cute though.

He loves it so much, he literally rubs it in his hair.

 What (among thousands of things) makes me happy right now:

• Target's bargain bin aisles.  It's like the tiniest edited, dollar store on earth.  I say edited because, I love, love, love me a good dollar store, but you can't just go in there and buy every "slightly smells like vanilla" candle.  Or every scratchy set of dish towels.  No, you need to determine what appears to be dollar store quality (and will get you looks come Christmas gift exchange time) and what is passable as "generic stuff from a store" quality.  The beauty of Target's bargain aisles?  This has already been done for you.  Legitimately, most of the items there are pretty decent quality.  This weekend we bought Wub two new toys: a foam sword and a new dust pan.  Both of which he loves for entirely different reasons.  Jim and Wubbles spent a better part of their play time today deciding which toys "needed to get the sword."  I'm sad to report that the bath time pig, stuffed puppy and clap your hands Elmo puppet appear to have sustained some wounds.  I hope they make it.  As far as the new dustpan; well it's awesome because one of Wub's favorite things to do is take his swim diapers (which have never been used and are way too small) and "clean" the floors with them.  He also loves to spot something half way across the room, run over and inspect it and add it to the contents of his cooking pot.  So, when I showed him how he could efficiently sweep his tomato, cheese, peas, super Grover, Elmo and corn into the pan with the brush and then dump them into his cooking pot, he was in awe.  So thanks, Target; $2.00 very well spent. 



On guard!



A future in Stomp may be a possibility.

• Jim's spinach dip.  I know the apostrophe makes it so that Jim owns the spinach dip recipe, which he doesn't; but seriously, the stuff is delicious.  He usually only makes it for big parties and special occasions, but today, he made it just because we had the necessary ingredients.  We are taking some over to my Mom's house for dinner.  Notice I said some.  We ration it out.  Some for the party/dinner we're attending, some for us.  The funny thing is, Jim makes sure to go back and resmooth the larger bowl, to hide the evidence of removing our own stash.
• Having off tomorrow.  Jim and I are going to do some fun errands, go to some of my favorite stores, shout out to Michaels and do some cleaning.  Not the most exciting of days; but a perfect catch up on everything day.
• The ice has mostly melted.  I love snow; it's beautiful.  But the ice that comes in the days that follow is awful.  I am so paranoid about black ice that sometimes it looks like I'm doing some type of dance routine through parking lots!  And shuffle, toe sweep, shuffle, toe sweep...

These lists literally could go on and on, I mean as I'm looking around our table right now, I want to write about two or three other things, but I will hold myself back and edit myself like I'm at a dollar store; it's about quality not quantity.  Right?

What day is it?

Halfway through today, Jim asked me, "If it felt like a Sunday?"  And after thinking about it, I realized that it really didn't.  I can't explain why some days feel like they "fit" the criteria of what I associate that day of the week with; but they just do.  We talked about it for a minute and then we decided that today felt like a Saturday because we did our grocery shopping yesterday.  I think that's the key to a day feeling like it's supposed to, the established routine has to match.  The only problem is that since today feels like a Saturday, tomorrow is going to be brutal since it should really only be Sunday...

One of the great things about today feeling like a Saturday is that we did nothing.  That's usually what we do on Saturdays: nothing.  And then we cram all of the the errands and whatnot into Sunday and we inevitably feel like we ended the weekend on a rushed note.  So today, the fact that we literally made the choice to do nothing at all was awesome!  We had talked about taking Wub outside to play, but when the wind was gusting the snow off the roof in snow globe tipping fashion, I decided that he would stay put right here in our warm, dry house.  He seemed content with that decision.  He read his Elmo books, rode around on one of his push toys and even cooperated for an impromptu photo session (notice the pretzels... I have to keep the talent happy!).

The other nice thing about not having to do anything today meant that the little accomplishments I made really seemed like a lot.  For example, taking a shower on a day when I'm just going to stay in?  That shows two things: 1. motivation and 2. maturity.  Or how about bringing stuff upstairs that needs to be put upstairs?  Any other day it wouldn't seem so special, but on a day when you've committed to doing nothing, this seems like a great accomplishment no matter how long they've been sitting on the table needing to be put away.

Perhaps next weekend will be more productive, but honestly, eating chicken pot pie and biscuits, listening to music and watching TV are really just fine with me!

There is a first for everything

Yesterday, we got Wubbles' first report card.  Officially, it's called an "Observation Inventory," but let's get real, that's the politically correct way to say: report card for a baby.  It's 14 pages long and it's oddly fascinating.  Actually, it's odd that I find it so fascinating.

The truth is, the teachers at his school know him probably just as well as we do and while that kind of makes me sad, it also makes me happy that they share this awesome kid with me and Jim.  My favorite part is the short answer section; it's overflowing with "doesn't every baby do that?" information like: When Cullen does not want something he will push it away or scream.  But it also has these totally cute, endearing comments like: Yesterday, Cullen had found another child's binky when that child started to cry he gave it to me.  (This proves what I've always felt; he's a total sweetheart!)

Cullen's first report card

I do think it's totally outrageous though that they have report cards for babies.  When we visited the school, the director was telling us all about the "baby room curriculum" and I was like, "What?  I'm not sure what other people's baby's are like, but mine sleeps a whole lot.  What exactly do you think you will be teaching him the four hours a day he's awake..."  So I think it's odd that they have an entire standardized 14 page long report card that they document for each baby, but I guess that's the world we live in.  People want to know every day the developmental minutia of their genius babies.

I, on the other hand, would really like to just concentrate on being a thoughtful parent and raising a well adjusted, kind, honest, caring young man.  If he doesn't wave until he's 13 months (true story), so be it.  I'm not going to document this in the "needs improvement" column of his baby journey.  However, for some reason I poured over this report card of sorts with eager delight.  Reading every word thoughtfully and thoroughly.  Rereading his progress and beaming with pride.  He is a developmental genius!  Yes!  I knew it!  This makes me selfishly happy.  For all of my laid back, take the journey one step at a time spouting off, I too seem to have the biological instinct to demand information that confirms my feelings: Wubbles is awesome and kind and smart and funny...  (He took off his shirt the other day at school, just "because he didn't want to wear it."  That's hilarious.)

I know I don't need a report card to validate my thoughts, but it sure doesn't hurt to read it and think, "My Wubbles is great.  I love him for every single thing these pages say and so much more."

But even better than reading the report cards that the teachers are required to write is getting to spend the quality time with him every day and just relishing that he's mine.  No report cards necessary.  No observations required.  No supplies needed.  Well that's not true, a few supplies are needed, they may just not always be what you have in mind.  Take for example Wub's need to open things and remove the contents.  We apparently have a very interesting things in those cabinets because he looks for and examines the same things over and over again.

 

So now, I just need to make sure that his report card gets into his keepsake box so we can pour over these comments years from now while savoring the memories that they hold.

Simple things

I think 2011 should be all about the simple things; about finding happiness in everything, not just the milestones or events.  In keeping with that, here are my resolutions, big and small.  (Please disregard the total Oprah-ness of this.  Thanks!)

This year I will try to:

• Paint my nails more.
• Worry less.
• Turn off the TV for the whole day one Sunday a month.
• Play music while we're eating dinner.
• Bake more.
• Buy matching bed linens.  Including the comforter.
• Vacuum more.
• Organize my closet.
• Write more letters/emails.
• Actually send the letters and emails.
• Check the mail every day.
• Be more creative.
• Learn how to sew.
• Make Wub's Halloween costume.  He has always wanted to be a sack of potatoes.
• Be more thoughtful.
• Take more pictures.  (I ordered the best of 2010 pictures this morning and there were on 314 pictures, which makes me a little sad.  Only 314?  That's not even a picture a day.  Weak.)
• Call people more.  I'm a fan of texting, but I should get better about that.
• Entertain more often.  It's hard with little ones, but our friends are awesome and really go out of their way to accommodate our kid friendly requests.
• Dance with Cullen more.  He loves it.
• Be more prepared.
• Get my hair cut.
• Order something different when I go out to eat.  If I find something I like on a menu, I never order anything else.
• Be rational.
• Be more patriotic.

Those are just a few of the things that I would like to do.  I won't be disappointed if I don't achieve everything on the list, but I think having some simple goals in life is a good thing.

On a last of 2010 note, we went to an awesome party last night!  (As is evidenced by the fabulous pictures below.)  However, celebrating the New Year has sort of lost it's luster since we had Wubbles, we didn't even make it to see the ball drop.  Maybe that should be added to the list for 2011:

• See the ball drop into 2012.

This one is just a matter of getting the appropriate naps the day of.  I am confident I can say that I achieved this goal.

I hope everyone enjoys 2011 as much as I'm planning to!