Monday. Monday.

Thank goodness for these little lizards. Otherwise, Monday would've really sucked.

That Stella likes to watch The Black Eyed Peas on Oprah on You Tube. Oh, sweet technology. She's a pop princess. Even if we don't want her to be.

But enough about Monday. Let's talk about the weekend.

Henry is still writing. I like his latest subject.

And I bought my favorite thing ever this weekend. A pink plastic grocery cart with copious amounts of plastic food for Stella's kitchen. Turns out, plastic eggs and "pretend" boxed cereal really keep kids busy.

Who knew? Not me.

Really busy.

Also. Stella has started to show interest in potty training.

But not for herself.

And there was more writing as we said goodbye to the weekend on Sunday night.

Or Something.

Not that I consider myself a cool mom (Henry and Stella will definitely not think so in about 5 or 8 short years), but I love this site.

Just Weird.

Specifics.

This morning Henry wanted peanut butter toast for breakfast. But not just any toast. He said he wanted the bottom part with peanut butter and no top part. "Okay, mom. Just the bottom part. No top part."

At 6:30 AM it took me a minute to realize that he meant he wanted toast, not a sandwich.

"And orange juice - but only filled halfway. Okay, mom? Only half way."

Got it. My next profession will be that of a short-order cook.

Hanging the Moon.

Party 2.0

Well…we did spend a little time away from the big, blue dumpster this weekend.

Because we had some partying to do.

Our friends Matt and Michele have a boy. His name is Axel. And he turned 4. Henry has a friend at school. Her name is Ava. And she turned 5.

So, you know, we were busy. And we had some fun.

We’ve known and loved Axel (and Matt and Michele and Demi) since, well, the beginning of time. And I dig their circle of friends that comes around to celebrate.

Since we've loved them since the beginning of time, I have this dream that the kids (Axel, Henry, Demi and Stella) will be friends till the end of time. I sure hope it comes true.

But let me be clear that I wouldn't want the dream I have about being chased by a murderer through my old high school to come true.

Just clarifying which dream I'm hoping to make a reality.

And on Sunday, Henry was one of only two boys at Ava’s party. I think there were 13 girls and just the two boys. Which made me happy. Although he was DONE with the party when it was time to open presents.

He wasn’t as interested in princess clothes as the rest of the party-goers.

But I like that he can hang with the girls (and it’s not just because I think little boys should be rounded up and locked away from ages 4 thru 10). It’s simply fun to see him play in a group of kids who like horses more than Batman. Or Spiderman. Or Flash.

So…now Dave is home finishing the rest of the demo/clean-up while I'm bringing home the bacon.

I guess that means party time is over. As Stella would say, "Bye Bye!"

Baby Steps

Oh, basement of ours.

You sweet, red-headed step-child, you.

We’re making slow-but-steady progress (actually “progress” might be a strong word) on prepping for some sort of remodel down there.

And today DRS finally got his wish for another step forward in the form of a big, shiny blue dumpster in our driveway.

This 1-ton monster marks the beginning of the cleanup of, well, the basement tear-down process. It will hold all the basement treasures we’re ready to part with. Like the remaining walls, sheetrock, 2x4s…

...and probably some things the Seattle recycling police wouldn’t be too proud of us for throwing in there.

But I say shizer to the recycling police.

Just this once.

And that's only because I sure do love that DRS.

So... the kids and I will need to stay plenty busy this weekend while Dave does his manly, roof-over-our heads work.

Stella thinks maybe it's time to plant the tomatoes.

Or maybe just hang out and play.

Away from the big, blue dumpster.

Hip Hop.

I love me some Easter fun...colored eggs, kids all dressed up, chocolate bunnies next to vodka. Wait. What?

And So It Begins.

All of Henry's shoes.

All of Stella's shoes.

Sprung.

So. I’ve had some sort of stomach flu for the last few days and, as it turns out, that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds.

But yesterday afternoon, the stars aligned – the sun came out – my stomach felt better. So Stella and I spent some time outside. Her throwing rocks (and occasionally her beat-up old Elmo). Me soaking in the spring sun and exploring a new found appreciation for f-stops on my camera.

It’s like Alexander Pope was hanging out with us, talking his “hope springs eternal” mumbo jumbo.

It was a good afternoon is all I’m saying.

And, speaking of authors. Henry is becoming one. His books mostly have to do with Spiderman and Batman kicking the Joker’s ass.

But we’ll worry about that later. Right now, I’m just loving the 15 or 20 “novels” lying around the house by Henry James…Seward.

Petite Chérie

I’ve been thinking about babies lately.

If I were in England, I believe they would say I’ve been “brooding.”

Don’t get me wrong. We’re done. Done with babies. For many reasons. Time. Money. Psychosis. The kind that comes with not getting any sleep. And the kind that comes with not being able to do anything for yourself because you’re either nursing, trying to get sleep, trying to take a shower or (did I already say this?) trying to sleep.

Those are the things that really wrestle “brooding” to the ground and take its lunch money.

But… Stella sure is growing. My baby is going, going…soon to be gone. Replaced by an amazing and slightly crazy toddler. But no longer a baby.

So, instead of doing something silly or nuts event (like trying to make another of these magnificent little monsters), I’ve decided to simply celebrate the things I love about babies (any babies, really – but mine in particular).

Like...

Births

Sleep

Okay one more picture of sleep. Little bag of sugar.

Laughing at who knows what.

Stuffed animals.

And. I really like watching them grow too. Punks.

Scratch That.

Forget that whole last post.

Because I just read a quote by Jane Austin.

"One can not have too large a party. Or too many friends."

So even though I said we're done with parties, I'm off to plan Stella's July soiree. I think it will be an airplane/red bird theme with red bird mobiles for everyone!

Must start saving now.

Goodnight Sweetheart. It's Time to Go.

Here’s the dealio for everyone out there wondering what it takes to throw a 50-person birthday party for a 5-year old.

You're going to need some:
· Patience.
· Good Grandparents to take care of a stinky little 21 month-old while you wrangle the 5-year olds.
· A few dollars that you'd probably rather spend on a new pair of shoes, but that end up going towards pizza for, well – you know, 50 people.
· Advil for the post-party headache.

All that said, the party is over. We had a really, really great time. And it’s not often I say “really” twice in the same sentence. It's cuz I just love that boy.

Love his friends.

Love our friends.

Love family.

Love Harry Potter.

Love. Love. Love. It's all around.

Now we can just slide on into five like a well worn saddle. Or something like that. What I’m trying to say is that there will be no more presents or parties for a while. So I might need to choose another analogy. Hmmm. I’ll get to thinking on that.

All that said (and shown), here is my favorite image of the party. Stella pre-funking with Grandpa Jim. "Party's over here!"