Photo Essay

Our lives in pictures…

Buddy is fascinated with his sister. He’ll stop what he’s doing and call to her (he calls her “baby”) then walk over to give her his version of a kiss: Laying his cheek against her. 

The brother approaches his prey …

The Buddy kiss.

My grandparents with the Munchkin. They had 7 kids. SEVEN. Yet after returning her to me, my grandmother laughed and admitted she was scared of dropping her great-granddaughter. “I don’t know how I raised seven!” she joked. Me either.

Can you believe that my grandpa is 94?

And now, some classic Buddy moments …

Baby tubs make excellent lounge chairs.

He ran around this room for 30 minutes straight.

Nothing beats playing chase with Dada.

He can reach doorknobs now. We are doomed.

We read together every day.

I think I’ve mentioned that Buddy loves his uncle, my brother. They are buds. Compadres. Inseparable. Here’s the funny part: Buddy looks EXACTLY like my brother did when he was little. All my aunts comment on it at every family party. He could totally pass as my brother’s son, which weirds the Super Spouse out to no end …

See the resemblance?

And now, classic Munchkin moments:

Catching some beauty sleep.

Smiling for the camera.

Baby feet!!

She’s got this intensity about her.


No, I’m not dead. My brain may be though. Hence, bullet points!

Why yes, if you tell me I’m pretty, I’ll smile!
  • The Munchkin is two months old, her hair is crazy thick, and her cheeks are still insane.
  • There’s a cold draft that comes from the garage at night and it drives me NUTS.
  • Buddy loves his little sister. He calls her baby and will stop whatever he’s doing at the moment to lean over her and rub his cheek against hers. One of these days I’m going to get a good picture of it — one where it doesn’t look like he’s smothering her — and it will give you cavities.
  • This kid’s farts … oh lordy … lets just say that Hubbs has blamed a couple on me based on the volume.
  • I talk about poop WAY too much. And yes, I’ll spare you.
  • Schlepping two small kids around takes a lot more planning and effort than originally anticipated.
  • We’re keeping Buddy in day care part time to keep him in the routine of going. He likes routine. Also, it gives me the chance to clean up every once in awhile.
  • I kept him home all last week: We’re breaking him from the bottle.
  • It hasn’t been pretty.
  • But went better than I had anticipated.
  • He has retaliated by refusing to drink it at all. The doc isn’t worried as long as he’s at least eating dairy.
  • The binky is next. The thought gives me hives.
  • Munchkin SMILES and coos now. It melts my heart every time.
  • Remember that ovarian cyst I had while pregnant with the girl child? Yeah, its still there. So it has to come out. Two days after my birthday. (Last year, I had bronchitis on my birthday. So far, birthdays in my 30s haven’t been so hot.) BOO is all I have to say to that.
  • Super Spouse will be home the entire week of my surgery and my mom will be up to take care of the Munchkin for a couple of days.
  • I’m not looking forward to the soreness of recovery.
  • Or the look on Buddy’s face when I tell him I can’t pick him up.
  • Or the way my heart will break when I see that look.
  • Stupid cyst.
  • So when my doctor brought up the surgery, she says … “SO … are you done having kids?” And I say “I think so.” And she scoots closer. “Do you think or do you know?” And now my eyebrows are up around my bangs so she continues, “because, since I’ll be in there anyway, if you ARE done having kids, I could tie your tubes.”
  • And then I did this:


  • I talked about it with the Hubbs, and after some serious discussions: No, we don’t want any more. And we don’t think we’ll change our minds about that. But the … finality … of the tubal — they cut them and cauterize the fallopian tubes — was just a little unsettling to me. So I opted for a 10-year, hormone-free IUD instead.
  • More than you wanted to know? Too bad!
  • The Munchkin has gas every night. I hesitate to call it colic, because it doesn’t last for hours on end, but its close and she’s been waking her brother up with her crying. I’ve recently found that laying her on her stomach along my arm with the palm of my hand on her stomach seems to ease her discomfort. It also found that this position can result in spit up oozing down my pant leg.
  • Did I mention that I recently bought 3 different laundry stain removers?
  • We had the carpets cleaned the other day by a fabulous local guy who scotch-guarded my front living room “high traffic area” for free. He also brought zucchini bread, which was crack-tasticly good.
  • The reason we had the carpets cleaned is because our cat peed ALL OVER our second living room in the EXACT spot that Buddy will lie down on when he plays with his cars. I may have over-reacted a bit: I told her that if she ever did it again, she’d be on the menu at my Chinese grandmother’s house.
  • Not really, but its a running family joke. Someone gets a new pet and she tells them to “fatten it up” for her, because (insert animal breed here) is mighty tasty. Then she giggles and we freeze for a second, because honestly, there are some traditional dishes she makes that I eat yet have no clue what is in it. (However, I know its not a pet, OK?)
  • Something I learned from carpet dude about stain removal: 1. Rubbing the carpet is bad. 2. Put a folded body towel on top of the stain and stand on it to bring the liquid up. 3. Use Nature’s Miracle — the one from the pet store used to get ride of the urine smell. He said its natural, so less harmful than other stuff, and it will pull the stain out better than other stuff. Also, OxyClean has bleach in it. I didn’t know that.
  • We’re bad pet owners. Either that or bad communicators. Maybe both: For a week, both Hubbs and I thought the other person was feeding the cat. We were wrong. How did we find this out? Hubbs went to change the litter and there was nothing in it. Dowt.
  • Enter $500+ vet bill (cringe) and guess what? Early onset of RENAL FAILURE and possibly cancer. Oh, and the cat that we thought was maybe 6 years old is 10 years old — a senior citizen. 
  • Enter special vet/prescription food and some crazy tests that we still haven’t done because they need to be done at home and I haven’t been able to get it set up the past couple of days due to the two yard monkeys.
  • Enter heart-to-heart talk about not being able to afford cancer treatments if/when it gets to that point for the fuzzy butt and pinky-swearing to not get another pet. EVER.
  • Enter discussion about how the kids will break us at some point and we’ll end up getting a pet anyway.
  • On a lighter note, I have two more months of maternity leave.
  • I go back right after Buddy’s 2nd birthday.
  • I’m already starting to think about his family party and what to do.
  • What I really want to do: Ditch the party and take him to the zoo instead. But he deserves a party too. Too bad my extended family wouldn’t really enjoy the zoo. Especially my 90- and 80-something grandparents.

OK, must run. My kitchen looks like a bomb went off in it and I have to figure out what I’ll throw together for what I call dinner these days.