Second child?

With N:
It's 10 minutes until his next feeding.  We need to get things prepped - stat!

With B:
Woah, no wonder he's mad - his bottle was due 15 minutes ago!

--

With N:
What, you think it's weird that we brought a pack-n-play, high chair, bouncy seat, playmat, monitor, seven changes of clothes, a box of 80 diapers, an entire tub of formula, 8 containers of food, and enough toys to entertain an entire orphanage for an overnight trip?  That's totally normal.

With B:
Hey buddy, doesn't this empty plastic tub look awesome?  I thought so too!  Cool!

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With N:
He need his dinner at exactly 6:15 pm, followed immediately by a bottle, immediately after that you have to undress him ON TOP OF the bed before putting him in a tepid bath of warm-ish water for exactly 13 minutes before reading him exactly two stories and saying one prayer before putting him in bed at no later than 7:05 pm.  Got it?

With B:
Well, he'll definitely need a bath before he goes to sleep tonight.  Sure.  We can do it after he eats.  No problem.  He's pretty flexible, this guy.

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With N:
There is absolutely no way we can give him that.  He isn't scheduled to try eating that before he's 9 months old.

With B:
Dude, are you eating GRASS?  Spit that out!

--

With N:
I love you more than you can possibly know, little man.

With B:
I love you more than you can possibly know, little man.

--

Some things aren't negotiable.

Litte foodies?

Before kiddos, E and I were sorta gourmands.  We took cooking classes together - even when we were in Italy.  We could tell you if creamed corn incorporated the use of truffle oil.  We tried anything and everything.  I remember one ill-fated attempt at braciola that ended with us throwing away enough food to feed 8 people.  More often than not though, our test dishes turned into delicious staples and we ended up loving them.  Cooking together was a fun, interesting way to spend time together and very conducive to talking.  Plus, what's not to love about a date where you spend the whole time actually TALKING to each other?  Oh, and there's the added bonus of wine.  Any recipe that calls for wine just begs to have the rest of the bottle taken care of.  So there you go.  Foodies.  At least wannabes.

Fast forward a few years and here we are.  Two kids, not much time, and lots and lots of things to do.  We still love food and wine, but our time to enjoy it is vastly decreased.  We've devised a system in which we cook the next night's dinner after the boys go to bed.  This results in us eating lots and lots of casseroles with side salads.  Bo-ring.  But Sunday afternoon during naptime we've started making interesting and exciting dishes again.  It makes both of us happy.  Also, we're trying to raise little epicures.  We love food - so should they.

Apparently our best attempts at getting N to love fancy dishes are ill-fated.  No matter what we put in front of him these days, he meets with the following responses - "No.", "Cheeseburger!", "Pizza", and/or the ever popular "Cracker!".  Right.  Instead of this thing we spent an hour preparing, we'll give you some Ritz crackers.  It's frustrating.  But I suppose normal, given he's almost 2.  Nothing like hearing a request for cheeseburgers at 7 am and seeing a toddler dissolve into tears because we won't provide the requested cheeseburgers and tell him that "he can eat his pancakes" to make you frustrated with food.

So we were excited to find that caching things as his favorite dishes works wonders.  He'll eat almost anything if you can throw in a label he likes.  For instance, when we served him eggplant Parmesan, he refused to eat it.  We took the plate away, brought it back without changing a thing, and told him it was "eggplant pizza".  He ate ALL of it and requested more.  Do we feed bad about this?

No.

PS - A few meals after the "Cheeseburgers!" request we actually made him cheeseburgers because - hey - he planted the seed and it sounded pretty dang tasty.  He proceeded to eat the bun and pick all the cheese off of the meat.  At least he was happy.

Water time!

We've really REALLY been loving all the nice weather.  I'm too tired to post anything witty, but hey LOOK - cute kids!

N loves this watering can.

Clearly.

All my guys.

Zoee was loving all the outside time.

N watering the plants.

Check out B's mad standing skills.

He's loving it.

They have so much fun together.

N likes to blow bubbles and B thinks it is hilarious.

For R - check out our stonework and tin roof.

Defining moments

At work today...

Me: I'm documenting this particular thing, and I would like you to tell me if it will mean more to you like this or like that.

Other person: Er, well, that seems like a lot of work.

Me: Yes, I believe it will be, which is why I'd like you to tell me the format that would mean the most to you, as your team will be the people using it and I don't want to do something that would require a lot of rework.

Other person: Could you maybe just make some examples of each possible way it would be?  That'd be better than a definition.

Me: Staring blankly.

Other person: You know, just show the way things will be?

Me: Shakes head to clear glazed over look. Um, I suppose I could do that, but it would be hundreds upon hundreds of iterations.  I think it would be easier to just define what it is than to make up a bunch of examples.

Other person:  Sure, sure.  Could you also have some examples?

Me: Staring, mouth agape.  Right.  I'll see what I can do.

Starbucks?

I have a special love for caffeine. I wish I didn't. But I cannot deny my deep, DEEP appreciation for caffeinated beverages. Coffee, soda (especially diet soda - complete with its terrible terrible chemicals), tea... It doesn't matter. I love these beverages from the bottom of my little overcaffeinated heart. However, this is becoming a problem. How did I realize this, you might ask? It was the moment when I realized that I had approximately $5.17 in cash, was in the drive-through line at Starbucks on the way to work, and was feeling particularly frugal and wanting to spend no more money than I had in cash. Oh, and I was starving. STARVING. I don't care that it was 6:14 am. I'd been up for over an hour and I was ready to break the fast. Regardless, I decided that I really wanted a nonfat caramel macchiato in as large a size as possible (venti). What's not to love about caramel and coffee and milk all mixed together in frothy goodness? I also really really want a butter crossoint. I know that a butter crossoint is not good for me. Well, it's full of butter and carbs and well, that's it really. No protien. No substance. Delicious, however, and the perfect compliment to a giant cup of steamy caramel-y coffee. I quickly realize the whatever money I have (which I promise is around $5.17 but I cannot be entirely exact on that amount) is not going to cover the largest coffee possible AND the crossoint I want to eat for breakfast. At this point, normal people may opt to choose a smaller size of coffee and/or use a plastic card to procure their wares. Me, however, I've set my mind to paying in cash. And I've also set my mind on this giant GIANT cup of coffee. (Please disregard the cup of coffee my Keurig made for me at approximately 5:17 am - it no longer counts.) I want this crossoint. WANT. STARVING. Stomach *growls*. I rationalize with myself that I cannot get coffee (*good coffee*) at work and I have things to eat at my desk (almonds, cans of soup, tuna fish). I abandon my breakfast plan so I can still get the giant coffee and pay in cash. To all my coworkers who suffered through the smell of smokehouse almonds at 6:45 am - I'm sorry. My caffeine needs overruled my desire for pastry. That is why I was eating aromatic (*stinky*) almonds at the crack of dawn. I hope you all can understand.