Cheekers

I feel like I have so much to "catch up" on recording with Crab! So let me just talk about cheeks.

His cheeks are so chunky! For a bit of time when he was about a month old, Munch called him "Cheekers." We sang. "What is wrong with the Cheekers, the Cheekers?"

He smushes his cheeks out and I think he's clenching his gums--possibly teething? So cute though.

Not so cute--the streak of red, dry eczema that extends in front of his ear. It's like painful looking sideburns.

But really when I think of cheeks right now, I think of how, when I bring him close to my face, he puts his hands very softly on both sides of my face and touches my cheeks. He's in a "grab and clench" phase, so I expect to feel nails scratching my skin, but no--his touch remains soft. And it's like he's cherishing me as much as I'm cherishing him.

The Long Good-Bye

As I head into daycare to pick up Munch, I make sure that I have my phone, my keys, and that I don't need to pee--because this will not be a run-in, run-out situation.

Over the past several weeks, Munch has wanted more and more to "hang out" when I arrive at school. I wonder what other parents think of me as I sit on the rug in his room as Munch puts me in Circle Time and points at the ABCs poster and sings.

Most kids, when their parents arrive, run to them and then head for the door.

When I arrive, Munch smiles and hugs me, then tells me to go sit on the bench in the hallway, while he goes into "teacher mode," playing in his room and periodically sticking his head out of the door to make sure I'm still there. Eventually, I'll be invited in and we hang out in his room, sometimes for as long as 45 minutes, until it's time for his teacher to go home.

Most parents, when they arrive, swoop their kids into winter coats and hats and skedaddle with nary a look back, hardly a wave at the teacher. In and out. Gone. Places to be and things to do.

And I get that. Some nights, I too have places to be and things to do, not least of them being getting dinner done.

But more often the not, the place I'm whisking us off to be is home, and what does it matter if we get there a bit later than normal? Hubs usually doesn't get home until about 2 hours after I do. Thus, those 2 hours can seem like we're "on pause" waiting for Daddy and for the night to really begin (when, really, the night is nearly over, poor Daddy).

I don't mind the extended pickup. In fact, I'm grateful for it. I am not "offended" that Munch seems content to stay at daycare. I'm so relieved that he's comfortable and happy there. Putting him in daycare was an extremely difficult decision and transition for me, and the fact that he likes it is a blessing.

And, I see it as a way for Munchkin to share his day with me. He's bringing me into the world he inhabits for 8 hours a day. He's showing me how he spends his time and he's also "pretend playing" teacher. This is one of the most joyous aspects. He's "playing school " at school. He takes over his teacher's chair and she gives him the pointer she uses and he "teaches" us. The teacher even joins me on the floor as a "student."


I see this as "showing up" for him. It's a simple thing we do, but I think it fulfills something in him. And it definitely fulfills something in me as I get to hear him say "A is for apple, V is for violin" and sing the daily songs. He's growing up! And I'm getting a peak at all the things he's learning.

There and Back Again

About a week ago, I sat next to my sunscreened husband on a catamaran boat, our legs swinging over the side as we watched the sun set over the Caribbean Sea. The air was warm and breezy, the drinks refreshing, the sea clear and blue.

Hubs and I just spent 7--but really 9 because of travel times--days and nights away from our little Munch. It was our 12th anniversary on February 1, and it was a perfect way to spend it.

Not to sound ungrateful, (bear with me) but this is not a trip I asked for. In fact, when Hubs called me a year ago and said he'd won the trip in a drawing at work, I immediately began to cry.

Because I knew. I knew I would "have" to go. And I knew Munch would not be.


Winning a trip as a mother is not the same as winning a trip as a free-wheeling single lady (disclaimer: I have never been this person, but I imagine it's not the same). First thoughts were not of snorkeling and excursions and how many bathing suits to bring but OH MY GOD I CAN NEVER SPEND THAT MUCH TIME AWAY FROM MUNCH. I felt panicky and scared and sad.

There was a lot of motherly guilt thrown in at the beginning of trip planning: A mother "shouldn't" "abandon" her child to go off on a vacation. A mother "shouldn't" be able to spend 9 nights away while her son was in the capable hands of another. A mother "shouldn't" "want" to do these things.

And I always get a bit of a twinge when I hear statements from mothers like, "In 15 years, I've never spent a night away from my children." It's a bit of a badge of honor but also sacrifice. To not be in that club, well, frankly it makes me sometimes feel like I'm selfish or I must not care about my kid as much. I know these are false feelings, but they are the ones I hear whispering at night.

But. I've talked before about how I am desperately in love with my husband. We want to believe that this is a "given" and a "duh" in marriage, but I've seen enough marriages that prove this is not the case. But I do love Hubs, like love him, and it's always been extremely important to me for our children to witness this love. We love to be together. And while we love to parent together, this is different from "being" together. Relaxing together.

Hubs and I had not been on a Caribbean vacation where we didn't know another person since our honeymoon, 7 years ago.

Through good, hard work and a lot of support from my family (and, of course, my counselor), I put those "motherly guilt" statements aside. I worked to replace them with statements about how important it is for a husband and a wife to spend one-on-one time together, especially when both are working parents. How important it is for our son to see us enjoy spending time together. How important for our son to know he can spend time away from us, have a great time away from us in fact, and learn how that is okay and normal and good. How important for Munch to know that we can go away and come back.

And so we went. My biggest hurdles were the plane trips. I was terrified, despite all my logic-thinking. "Turbulence is normal." "Flying is a safe mode of travel." I was a mess both travel days, until wheels down in our final destination cities. My panic only heightened as we got closer to seeing Munch again--I wanted it so much, I was sure I wouldn't get to. But, of course, we did.

And it was wonderful seeing our Munch again. He was excited, we were excited. He had such fun at gramma and grampa's, and I thank my in-laws to high heaven for taking such amazing care of him--I never once worried about how he was doing, and that in itself is a blessing. We've had some transition bumps the past few days, like at night when he holds my hand and whispers over and over "Mommy, no go leave." Some meltdowns ("Mommy say no to me."). But, mostly all is back to normal. This is good for him to see, but also good for me to see.

I did it! I made it. It may seem strange to feel a sense of accomplishment after merely going on vacation, which I know we were truly blessed to do, but I do feel proud. Now, with a snowstorm bearing down, St. Lucia is a distant memory, almost as if it was a dream. Did I really lie on the beach for 7 straight hours a day? Did I wear my bathing suit and flip flops? Does the resort really exist?

They are memories Hubs and I will cherish, and we're committed to making vacations like these priorities in the coming years. And, similar to how I feel as a working mom, being away from and subsequently back with Munch has made me appreciate him all the more. The way he smiles and jumps 11 times in a row and plays with my hair and kisses our cats. I am thankful and grateful for the time away, and for coming back to my normal routine.

Hail to the Spaghetti

Last week, I shared this tweet: "And then my finicky 2yo ate a plate of spaghetti. In a RESTAURANT. #doublewhammy"

This is the story of that tweet.

The scene was a recipe for disaster. Hubs, Munch, and I were on vacation with Geema and Geepa at Massanutten Resort in the Shenandoah Valley, and we decided to venture into a restaurant instead of eating in, as is always easier with dearest Munch, who doesn't always sit down for meals (*understatement*).

The restaurant was a buffet, heralded in the resort literature for it's "popular pasta bar."

It also was located inside the big ol waterpark that we weren't taking Munch to because he wants to ride the tallest slide and swim in the deepest water and stand under the biggest bucket. It's just not the scene for him (or mommy) at this point in his life.

The buffet overlooked the entire park from pretty much anywhere you sat. Distraction was not an option.

We were disappointed to find that the food looked, in a word, disgusting. And this is coming from me, the girl who loves fast food and recently told her sister how she thinks with fondness and longing of the elementary school cafeteria pizza and chicken pattys. I'm not a high-brow food person, I love "trash" food, and this buffet was inedible.

So, as Munch squirmed to look out at the water park and said, "Kids!" and "Down there!" my mood quickly downgraded from hungry and hopeful that Munch would sit calmly to quite pissy and queasy. I wanted to leave, but Hubs said it was too late, we'd ordered drinks, we'd tried the watery mashed potatoes. We were committed.

As I walked back from another look at the buffet with Munch drooped sullenly in my arms, he spied food at another table and suddenly said, "Lolos" (translation: noodles). Someone was eating spaghetti. I said, "You want lolos?" and he nodded.

With no hope and nothing else to do, I took Munch to the "popular pasta bar," which consisted of two types of noodles, pale shrimp, and a few veggies, and ordered him up some spaghetti with red sauce. We watched as the "cook" made up the pasta on the hot plate, then I carried the large oval plate back to the table, figuring that I'd be the one eating the noodles.

Munch sat in his booster seat next to the window overlooking the water park and let me feed him a noodle. Seeing as how he's never eaten spaghetti for me, I held my breath, pretended this was no big deal, and fed him one noodle at a time. He looked at me and said, "Big one." As in LOAD THAT FORK, WOMAN. And soon he was shoveling the noodles into his own mouth!

He ate two-thirds of that plate, quietly watching as the big water bucket filled and dumped over and over. None of the rest of us ate much, but it was Munch's best meal of the trip, and for that, I thank the Blue Ridge Buffet.

This post was written in response to Mama Kat's writing prompt: 2.) Find a tweet you shared last week and elaborate.

Welcome September!

I'm so happy it's September, the gateway to my most favorite season, autumn. I can't believe summer is over (and hope the humidity gets the memo soon!). It was a good summer, full of both travel and home time, but I'm not sorry to say, as Munch would, "Bye-bye August!"

I've been looking at so many people's "back to school" or "starting school" pics and it's hard to believe this will be us in a couple years--I'm glad we're not there yet, because I will be a puddle!

The fall is another fresh start in the year. I just saw Gretchen Rubin's quote that today is the other January 1. It is so true. Even though I haven't been in a school environment for years, I still think of this as a "start." And we all know how I love new beginnings and times for resolutions!

I'm casting back in my memory to remember if I was nervous or anxious over going back to school, and I must have been some, because I get nervous for any and all changes and transitions. But school was something I was good at, at least the academic part. I don't remember the anxiety, if I felt it.

What I remember is full tubes of Elmer's glue, new pencils, smooth pads of paper, new shoes and jeans, and pictures on our square front porch, holding my clarinet case. I remember a tidy desk and a clean locker and new seating charts and dark black chalkboards not yet gone gray with eraser streaks.

New things, full of promise. That's how I feel about every autumn. That may be what I'm "supposed" to feel about spring, but I don't. Autumn is where it's at.

PDAs in Front of the Youngster

I'm an affectionate person by nature. I'm a "hugger," if you will. This holds true with relative strangers and members of my family, none more so than my husband and son. I love nothing more than cuddling with Munch, and I soak it up even more now that he's an active toddler who someday will flinch at a kiss from Mommy.

My husband and I are affectionate and always have been. Once, a family friend commented to his wife that he'd like her to tug at his arm hair like I was Hubs' (a little weird, but I do like to tug on the arm hair).

Now that we're parents, our displays of affection haven't ceased, and I have no plans to stop anytime soon. I'm not saying we like make out in front of Munch, but we kiss and we hold hands and hug. I think it's incredibly important for Munch to witness.

And he's clearly taking it in. Take last night. Part of our usual bedtime routine involves Hubs and I swaying with Munch in his darkened room to some Veggie Tales before we lay him down to fall asleep. I hold Munch and Hubs rubs his back. Last night, Hubs and I kissed over Munch's head and as he sometimes does, Munch pulled our necks back together for another kiss.

Then, when he was seeming to pull us forward again and Hubs went to kiss me, Munch said his own name--as in, No, Dad, kiss me! It was so sweet and so precious and a perfect little quiet moment.

My parents were affectionate when I was growing up. My mom greeted my dad with a kiss at the door every afternoon. I remember times watching from the backseat as they held hands across the center console in the car. It comforted me, to see my parents showing outwardly that they enjoyed one another. (Though their marriage ended, I still believe those moments were genuine and true and critically important to my upbringing.)

I want Munch to grow up in a household where people love one another, show it, and say it. I know that when Munch is a grumpy tween, he'll likely roll his eyes at his parents kissing each other or him. There'll be screams of GROSS and averted eyes when Hubs and I kiss. But even if he doesn't realize it, seeing us love each other outwardly will have an effect, and a good one.

My dad has said that his parents never told him they loved him growing up. Thus, my sisters and I never told our grandparents we loved them, though they hold such special places in our lives. Recently, I've started telling these now-80+-year-olds that I love them when we part after a visit. Usually, they say something like, "Well I appreciate that." But last time, my grandma said, "I love you too."

If not now, when? We are scared to tell people "I love you" because it makes us vulnerable. We're hesitant to hug for fear of being pushed away.

But the only thing that matters in this world is loving one another, and making sure those you love know it. And the only way for them to know is to tell them and show them.

So today, hug your kids, hug your partners, hug your parents, hug everyone you love. Let your kids see you plant a wet one on your spouse's cheek, or rub her shoulders, or smell his hair. Nuzzle your toddler and pat your teen on the back. Show kindness and let those you love know how much you value them. If not now, when?

Snapshot: The Ol' Count and Jump

It may be time to get Munchkin into gymnastics. The past 2 nights, Munch has stood on my pillow, counted himself off, and launched headfirst to the middle of the bed. Last night, he almost did a forward roll from a dive!

(We are aware that this is not the safest of activities, and we only allow Munch to do this under close supervision. What was it that Mama told her monkeys about jumping on the bed?)

Anyhow, it went down like this:

Munch stood on the pillow. Out of nowhere says, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5.... SIIIIIX! and launched.

Reset on the pillow. 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, garble sounding something like 13, 14, 15. Launch.

Then it got a little weird and a lot cute.

Reset on the pillow. He started singing, 8, 7, 8, 7, 8, SEVVVEEEEEN and launching. This went on for a while. They must sing a number song at school. 

Little Things That Make Us Awesome

This week's Monday Listicles asks for 10 Little Things That Make My Family Awesome. I'm so happy with Hubs and Munch, so this list will be a cinch.

1. We laugh--a lot.

2. We split the chores (well, Hubs and I do, and I'm sure Munch will be brought into the mix when he's old enough--heck, he already carries around a water-filled bottle of carpet cleaner, following Daddy as he cleans up the ever-present kitty puke).

3. We love to be active together. The best nights are walk nights, with Munch in the stroller and Hubs by my side.

4. We let each other be still.

5. We support each other's interests. Hubs knows I sometimes need to hunker down and watch trash on TV. (He even has been known to watch LMN's Pick-a-Flick Fridays with me!) And I know that one of Hubs' great loves is and ever shall be video games.

6. We are committed to long-term goals, like reining in spending so we can get a bigger house in a couple years.

7. If there's a decision to be made, big or small, we consult each other before making it.

8. We say "I love you" every day.

9. We go grocery shopping together--it's one of Munch's favorite activities right now.

10. We lift each other up.

Bonus: We read. It's so important to me for Munch to see both of his parents enjoying and discussing books.

What makes your family special?

Life With Superman

Munch has worn the same shirt for 48 hours now, night and day. It's a Superman UV water shirt--royal blue with the classic red-and-yellow Superman symbol emblazoned on the chest. It looks like this:

 

 

It all started on Sunday morning when I took Munch to a little water park near our house. Hubs took his new bike out for a ride while Munch and I braved the fountains shooting up from the ground and triangle-shaped buckets dumping water down and waterfalls and spitting frogs.

 

Munch, in his typical deliberate manner, did not run headlong into the fray. Instead, he stood very still, smiling, looking at everything, tap-tap-tapping his feet in the puddles and getting the lay of the land before fully committing. Unlike many of the other boys crashing headlong into the water and anything else that happened to be standing close by, Munch observes a lot before he explores. But once he does, there's nothing like seeing the joy on his face. He screamed "Water!" and squealed with glee.

 

Last year, whenever he entered a pool or got wet, he started shivering after about 20 minutes--not so, this year. His little body has caught up with his desire to be in the water. We were there for an hour and not a bit of shiver. His favorite thing, besides watching the water fall down from the triangle buckets, was standing in the center of a crazy mess of roaring fountains, where in the center a spurt of water burst forth, then stopped about every 30 seconds. Each time, again as other boys would scream at the empty hole, Munch pointed at it and looked at me and said, "On?" Then he'd jump and squeeeee when it came on again.

 

And all the while, Munch wore his Superman shirt. He was so proud when he put it on, tapping the emblem and looking down at it. Once, it was the most amazing moment, another boy ran up to him and this boy happened to be wearing a white shirt with the same Superman symbol. I was standing about 15 feet away as Munch encountered this boy. Munch looked at him, then down at his own shirt, then up again. You could see on his face--mind, BLOWN!

 

When we got back home from the water park, Munch put on a white shirt while Superman washed and dried--and then he wanted it back on. All day, he'd pat his chest and say, "It's MY Superman." It was the cutest thing!

 

Then came bedtime--he refused to remove it for PJs. So, he slept in it.

 

Yesterday morning--same deal. He wouldn't hear of even switching to another Superman t-shirt, this one dark navy with a burgandy symbol. So, he wore his water shirt to school all day.

 

Last night, at bath time, he raged as I removed Superman and, for shame, put him in the washer. He cried over and over, "It's MY Superman." So, he and I sat in front of our front-loading washer and talked about how Superman was getting a bath just like Munch had. Munch was bare-chested and anxiously awaiting the shirt. Slept in it again. And, this morning, went to school in it. Again.

 

We got the thing at Target, so we're going over there tonight to see about getting a second one so I can always be rotating it and we don't have to spend hours in front of the washing machine, waiting for Superman. Hubs is like, "You're sure it's okay to indulge this." I'm like, yes. I've heard tales of friends' kids who went everywhere in Spiderman pajamas. A Superman UV shirt seems pretty inocuous. I know kids get fixated on pieces of clothing. I guess I thought it would happen when Munch was like 7 years old or something. The kid never ceases to surprise me.



Munch Speaks: 10 Awesome Phrases

Nothing warms my heart more than listening to Munch talk. He says stuff that even I have a hard time understanding, but deciphering his toddler language is one of my favorite activities! So for today's Monday Listicles, here are 10 of my favorite things he says right now, at age 2 years, 3.5 months.

1. Mommy, come 'ere. This is by far my favorite. He also says Kitty, Daddy, Mama come 'ere. He'll crook his wrist while saying it as well. I say "come here" constantly, so it's no surprise he picked it up!

2. Kirkle. Think this is "circle"? Nope, he says "sircle" prettty well. "Kirkle" is triangle. I have no idea why! And triangles are one of his favorite shapes right now.

3. Tinkle star. He sings "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" almost all the way through on his own.

4. Grocery store. He botches this pronunciation a lot, but he LOVES going to the grocery store and sitting in the cart.

5. Plowe. Pillow, where he reclines while drinking his bottle.

6. Hullo. Said in a low, serious voice while putting the phone on his shoulder.

7. Mouse on. Munch's favorite TV show, in fact really the only one he watches, is "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse." He loves it and can name each character.

8. Sansin. Dancing, another favorite activity. "Last Friday Night" by Katy Perry is the current favorite. In the middle, when the crowd whispers "TGIF" he mimics them and then when the music starts again, he screams and jumps and claps.

9. Lolos and lulus. Noodles and cereal, respectively.

10. His own name. He just started saying it recently, and it's adorbs!

The Origin Story

Hubs and me on the Gettysburg College campus

Before Munch, there were two people who fell in love. This is how they came to be that way.

If you know me or have followed my blog you may have gleaned that I was not the most confident of people in my childhood, teen, and young adult years. (Can you read between the lines to see the gross understatement?) I blame this lack of confidence on my being overweight, but of course my reaction to my size is symptomatic of my lack of self-confidence and low self-esteem. After all, one of my good friends from high school was as large as me and she started on the basketball team and had a ton of friends, if not boyfriends.

But this is not a story about weight, though all of my stories seem to come back to it. Probably, it's a crutch, but I'll figure that out later. Suffice it to say that by the time I turned 21, I had not had a boyfriend, not one. I had not casually dated, not once. I went to my junior prom on a blind date and never saw him again (he turned out to be a little cray-cray, so no harm done). I was, as they say, inexperienced in the love department.

Hubs, on the other hand, 500 miles away and in ignorance of his future wife's existence, had an active social life. Whilst he didn't date like crazy, he was beloved by many girls in high school. He was the "guy friend" that always had gals calling on the phone, I'm told. Gaggles of them, in my mind. He was a sweet guy, genuine, steady, the same as he is now. He had a serious girlfriend I believe when he was 16, took the breakup hard, but eventually got over it and later introduced me to the girl over dinner at The Olive Garden.

Hubs and I went to the same college, but we didn't get together until the second semester of our senior year. We crossed paths during our first 3 years, both working at the library and even being in the same World Music small group during sophomore year. I still have our final paper, and there are our names sitting next to one another.

But, you could say, Hubs had a distraction those first years in the form of a long-term, long-distance relationship with a girl in Upstate New York. While I spent my college years watching friends hook up and break up and eventually go long-term, Hubs worked hard on a relationship that ended badly right before senior year, devastating him. He started senior year in the middle of an ending.

By the time I started my senior year, I was in the middle of a beginning. By second semester, I had lost 100 pounds and gained some form of self-confidence. I'd dated one guy who seemed quite into me, though sadly for him, the feeling was not mutual. It felt weird to reject someone after years of being rejected--something in me said to be grateful for what I got. But, off he went, and off I went.

The last week of January, a mutual friend of ours (who also was in that World Music small group) threw a party. A gala, we called it. It was held in her dorm room. I showed up in size 6 (6! from Aeropostale!) jeans and a purple-striped shirt I still have. I wasn't a big drinker, but that night, I drank. I danced, a bit.

And across the room, I saw Hubs. He was wearing a backwards baseball cap, as was his custom. And shorts. In January. I would learn that such quirks also were his custom.

One of our engagement pics, taken in front of the dorms
where the gala took place.

We worked our way toward one another throughout the night. I kept offering him drinks, which he politely and consistently declined--with the excuse that he'd just played tennis, which made PERFECT sense to me. Later, I would learn that Hubs doesn't drink, never has (still hasn't), and I would feel like a LUSH. And the family lore would go that Hubs and I got together when I was drunk.

Around 11pm (seriously, what a rager, eh?), there was a knock at the dorm room door. In walked a Campus Security officer. He said we needed to break it up because of the noise (music), so I guess it may have been a bit of a rager. I was of age, but hadn't brought my license.

I sat down on the couch and huddled behind the guy sitting there--Hubs. I laid my hand on his arm. And he patted my hand with his.

Looking back, this is the moment that we both "knew something" was happening.

My friend came to collect me for the walk back to our dorm room. I later learned Hubs was going to offer to walk me back. We had made no plans to see one another again, not for Hubs' lack of trying. He and some friends were going to see Black Hawk Down the next night, but I said I didn't want to go because I didn't want to see that movie. (What. An. Idiot.)

Over the next week, I found myself thinking about Hubs at odd times. I'd look for him as I walked across campus. I stopped by the circulation desk where he worked. He gave me a ride to the gym when he saw me walking.

I remember realizing that Hubs was just "in my mind" when I watched TV--and that I thought I liked him. The thought panicked me. I didn't WANT to like him. I didn't want to feel how I felt when the other guy liked me and I didn't like him. I was feeling the tremors of vulnerability that love brings, I know now. I didn't want to be vulnerable.

The timing wasn't ideal, for me or for Hubs. We were both graduating in 3 months and who knows what life would bring. For Hubs' part, he kept the similar thoughts he was having about me a secret from most of his friends and family because he didn't want to hear what they would surely say--his 2.5-year relationship had just ended and was this really the best time to get involved with someone new?

But, we both pushed those fears away, thankfully, and Hubs came over to my dorm for biscuits (yes, biscuits) 6 days after the gala and the next night we went on our first date to see A Beautiful Mind. We had Wendy's for dinner. We talked into the night afterwards, about everything, and he kissed me when he left--and it was the kiss that told me I was on the right track. It EMBODIED Hubs. Genuine. Steady.

Three months later, we graduated college. Three months after that we both started grad school in Washington, DC. We moved in together at our mothers' mutual suggestion--to save money, they said.

Five years later, we got married.

And 4 years later, our lives changed forever, with the birth of our firstborn son.

In Honor of our Wedding Anniversary

Today is Hubs' and my 6th wedding anniversary! It was a beautiful June day in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, sunny but blazing hot. We met at Gettysburg College, and that's where we married--in Christ Chapel on the campus.

I often don't put as much weight on this anniversary as on our "relationship" (first date) anniversary in February--we've been together more than 11 years, and we've lived together for most of that time (story for another post), so it feels wrong to "discount" the first 5 years just because we weren't married.

But, that doesn't mean that our wedding day wasn't incredibly special, or that our marriage isn't something I cherish. So, in honor of that hot day on June 17, 2007, here are 5 of the best moments from  our wedding day.

1) The walk down the aisle.

a) Having both my parents walk me down the aisle was a very emotional experience for the three of us. My parents divorced when I was 16. One of my favorite things about my wedding day was my parents coming together and doing that walk for me and with me.

b) I didn't expect to be emotional. At all. But when I turned the corner down that extremely long aisle and saw Hubs standing at the head of it, I just lost it. I cried and cried the entire walk, sobbing, not just tearing up, but really blubbering. My parents really had to hold me up. Hubs said later that it looked like they were dragging me up to him.

2) Photos on the golf course. Our reception was The Links and they had golf carts for the wedding party to ride down to the greens and take pictures on the course. Though, again, it was blazing hot and we were exhausted by that time, we got some of the coolest pictures ever.

3) The speeches. My sisters (co-maids-of-honor) and Hubs' brother gave heartfelt, funny, and sweet speeches to us, and I still have the original copies they used.

4) Our cake. We were lucky enough to use Food Network's Duff Goldman before his show went on the air and before he exploded in popularity. He created a replica of Penn Hall, the centerpiece building on Gettysburg College's campus that predates the Civil War, and an Xbox 360 and controller for our groom's cake.

5) Dancing at the reception. Both sides of our families danced the evening away and it was awesome. Our DJ was perfect--we used a local guy who did weddings on the side and we gave him a CD of our requested songs, and that's all he played. It was quite literally one of the funnest times of my entire life. Everyone was in great spirits and I still think of it with warmth in my heart.

Our wedding day, in the end, was one of the best days of my life. I married a man I love wholly and completely. It was a day without any drama, chock full of happiness and blessings. I will be forever grateful for that.

5 Hilarious Things Munch Has Done Lately

My little 2-year-old is a ham and is also incredibly observant, which just amazes me daily. He's so sweet, and so cute, and I feel like he's just blossoming before our very eyes! Here are 5 recent examples.

1. Last night in the bath, Munch stuck an index finger in each nostril and widened his eyes at Hubs and me, then dissolved into fits of giggles. I'm sure our reactions (Gross!! *Raucous laughter*) didn't help.

2. Then, inexplicably, Munch started crying and saying "Foot! Foot!" We said, "What's wrong with your foot?" He said, "It's wet!" Devastated voice: "It's wet!" So he proceeded to cry and we proceeded to try to stifle laughter as we toweled him off.

3. This morning, he was lying next to me as we woke up and I was facing away from him. I was wearing an old Disney World t-shirt on the back of which is a big picture of Winnie-the-Pooh and his friends. Munch starts laughing and poking me in the back and I said, "That's Tigger!" and he said in a very scary low growl, "Rowrrrr."

4. He's starting to be able to tell me why he cries when I'm not there. It's mostly "Jabber jabber wah jabber bike jabber." Translation: "I cried because the bike is broken and I couldn't play with it." Awesome getting some two-way conversations going.

5. He ends his own fun time. We'll be out walking with him in the stroller, and it's his favorite thing ever, and suddenly he'll say, "House. Bye-bye stroller." And we'll head back to the house where he'll calmly get out of the stroller and go inside.

Okay, 6. We were playing on one of the normal wees and another boy was there. Munch hurried as fast as he could up the stairs, through the tube, down the slide, sprint around and start again, all the while looking over his shoulder for where this kid was. The competitive streak is presenting early.

I could go on and on, but I'm already over! I love this kid!

I Have a BOY, Y'All

Yes, I've known that our child is a boy since about 10 seconds after he was born. But my cute and cuddly baby boy is becoming a rough and tumble, risk-taking BOY.

Case in point. We spend a lot of time at the playground (called the "wee" by Munch after the sound one obviously makes upon going down the highest slide available). One of the wees we go to has a couple of crazy ladders that Munch often has me help him up.

The ladder in question:

The ladder's rungs are about 8-10 inches apart, and the ladder itself is probably 3-4 feet high. Whenever Munch has had me help him up this ladder, he does the first couple rungs okay, and then I have to hold him the rest of the way up, and he hardly gets his feet on the rungs by the end.

I think you may know where I'm going with this.

On Saturday, Hubs and I walked with Munch to this wee and Munch was going up and down the slides as normal. He'd lost his god-forsaken boppy (pacifier) and though it's no great loss to us, we worried how Munch would do on the 20-minute walk back home once he realized it was missing. So, we were looking around for the boppy.

That is not to say that I had left the wee area or had even turned my back on Munch. Hubs and I were merely looking down at the ground, rather than straight at our kid. For about 7 seconds.

In that 7 seconds, Munch was busy. I was standing straight across from the ladder pictured above (in the second picture, you'd be looking at me through the opening). And you'd be seeing me from Munch's perspective. Hubs was standing to my left, a bit closer to the end of the slide at the right of that same picture.

I looked up through that opening. And I saw Munch on top of that ladder. He had about two rungs to go when I saw him.

My reaction: Freeze and look away and call my husband's name. Hubs dashed to the ladder, but by the time he reached it, Munch had already stepped on to the platform. And was smiling like crazy at what he'd just done--he KNEW what he'd done and that he didn't normally do it.

I don't know if my reaction was the best one, but it was instinctual. Munch had a very precarious situation under very precarious control. One freak out from me, and he might freak out himself. I didn't want to do anything that would cause him to lose his hand or foot hold on that ladder and PLUMMET 3 feet to the ground. And, I looked away both so he didn't get distracted by me and, if I'm being honest, so I didn't see him if he fell, which I felt was inevitable.

And he made it.

It's so true what they say--"I looked away for a second, and in that moment my kid did X, Y, or Z." Hubs and I were both RIGHT THERE, facing Munch's direction. And up a very age-inappropriate ladder he went.

I know that this is only the first time something like this will happen. Munch has a go-get-em, freak-her-out streak in him. He does similarly when it's time to go downstairs. He'll dash for the staircase and get two or three steps down before I get there to "spot" him. And he looks at me with that same grin: "See what I did there?"

His whole life will contain moments when he will be in a precarious position and something will block me from getting to him, from helping him. Sometimes, it'll be something like the playground equipment or maybe a baseball diamond's fence.

It may also be Munch's own hand, held with its palm facing me, warning me off, telling me, he's got this, to let him do this.

And I'll have to let him.

From Cue Ball to Mad Scientist to Hayley Mills

Munch had his first haircut last weekend! We went to a really fun place called Kidville, and he got to sit in the firetruck chair and ring the bell and pretend to drive the whole time. He had a very good time, and didn't seem to care that anything was going on except when the stylist was cutting his bangs and he didn't like that going on in front of his face. So we gave him a Blueberry Dum-Dum and he pronounced that "Nummy" and went about his business.

We've waited a long time for the hair cut--2 years and nearly 2 months. It's been a long journey that started in utero. At one ultrasound, my OB said that Munch had what appeared to be a particularly round and large head. We then started picturing Charlie Brown and I started worrying about birthing a baby with a head like a bulldog's. My husband has a rather round and large head, so we weren't terribly surprised.

Luckily, Munch's head is perfectly normal sized and it's not noticibly round. He was born with a very light dusting of blond fuzz that he promptly shedded. My cousin once had an ultrasound where her daughter's hair was waving in the breeze (I understand that the breeze was fluid, but my way sounds so much nicer).

Not Munch's. Munch had no hair to speak of and he seemed to get balder as the months went on. He had the finest layer of hair and appeared totally bald for the first 6 months. His hair started filling in until his first birthday he had essentially a tiny mohawk on top, where his hair came to a point over his forehead, not much on the sides or in the back.

From his first to second year, Munch's hair took on a life of its own. He grew curls, corkscrewing, wonderful curls along the back of his head. His head of hair thickened, and he fell as in love with it as I did--he often laid on my lap, drinking his bottle, and caressing his own hair. Eventually, when wet, the back of his hair fell down between his shoulder blades. Daddy created rock star spikes with shampoo. He would wake up with bedhead like you've never seen. And I loved my red-blond-light brown baby's hair as much as my own (and that's a lot, since my hair is basically the only feature I'm vain about).

We marked his second birthday pictures as the milestone to get to before the cut. We wanted him to look like "himself" in the pictures. Those happened in mid-April, and we just kept delaying and delaying. Munch grew messier by the day, with his bangs falling into his eyes and his sweaty curls clinging to his cheeks after each muggy May playground afternoon.

It was time. He looked nuts sometimes, with the curls poking out every which way. He had a tangle of curls.

The stylist cautioned against going too short--I think it's like when a woman goes in with hair down to her butt and demands a pixie, the stylist balks. She cut off some of the length in back, but it still curls up. She shortened the bangs and the sides. Munch looked cleaner. I was so happy to get to keep the curls.

Then, he woke up the next morning, with his hair flattened by sleep and his bangs down on his forehead. Hubs said, "I think he looks even more girly now--I didn't expect that."

The thing is, Munch now looks a bit like Hayley Mills in The Parent Trap--after they cut East-coast twin's hair. Google it, I'll wait ....

Yep, that's Munch right now. He looks like a middle-aged woman with a light perm. I think it's the poufyness, along with the bangs. He also looks a bit like George Harrison in the 50s.

I'm not terribly devestated by this, it's just taking some getting used to. And, I told Hubs, this first haircut is a point of reference--next time, we can say, we need it shorter or thinned out. We've at least cleared this hurdle.

The Parent Trap was always one of my favorite movies anyway.

On This Mother's Day

I can't believe this is my third Mother's Day already. This week, so much has been made of mothers getting what they "really want" today--which, according to so many in the media, is time away from their families.

Maybe it's different if you have more than one kid or maybe it's different if your kids are older; but I don't feel this way. I understand that everyone needs down time, "me" time--but, to me, today is the day you get the gift card and the promise of a spa day.

What I want today is to spend time with my Munchkin, and to think about the reasons why I love being his mom--how he plays with my hair when he's tired or insecure. How he grabs my neck and hugs me tight sometimes. How he screams "MOMMY!" from the top of the stairs when I'm down in the kitchen. How he holds out his boo-boos to be kissed better.

How being his mother is making me a stronger and more confident person. With all the labels in my life, this is the one I'm most proud of.

Here is my journal entry from my first Mother's Day, when Munch was only about 6 weeks old, before I started this blog:

May 8, 2011

Today is my first Mother's Day--so weird to be on the receiving end this holiday! Hubs has done a wonderful job making it special. We have stayed conscious of Points, but also treated ourselves. For "brunch," we had healthy omelets from IHOP and bagels from Panera. We watched some CSI and then headed to the Rio (for the third time this weekend!) The sun was hot for the first part and then it got a bit overcast and breezy. We were in B&N a bit and then got Potbelly (first time since pregnancy!) and came home for more CSI--and presents! Hubs (and Munch!) did awesome. They gave me the Liam Neeson movie Taken, the new WW cookbook (can't wait to pick out recipes for the week!), an adorable Precious Moment of a mother rocking--that's Munch!--an infant, and from Blue Nile, a locket that says "Mom" with pictures of the boy inside and aquamarine earrings with little diamonds. I couldn't have asked for more!
--

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there.

Puddle Jumpin

My son loves water of all kinds--whether it's a fountain splash park at Disney or a small backyard pool, this kid gravitates toward water and has to be IN IT if he sees it. Even "ucky allo" (yucky water), which he finds pooled at the bottom of a slide after a shower.

Run-of-the-mill puddles are no different. If it's raining out, I know that we won't be able to leave the house without a full-on desperate attempt to streak for the puddles and do a little one-two-three dance step in each one.

As adults, we generally avoid the puddles, both in our parking lots and in our lives. Puddles are messy. They make our feet wet. They are an inconvenience. We could do without puddles.

Yesterday afternoon, Munch and I sought out the puddles. It had rained off and on for a couple days, so the ground was wet, but not soaked. Puddles were there, but not plentiful. We had to look. And Munch seemed to know this was a search and discover mission, rather than a jump into everything mission.

Munch pointed at a puddle, sometimes so far away or small that it took me a moment to see it. Then we ran for it, enjoyed it for a moment, and then he pulled my hand to find the next one. We went throughout the parking lot, finding puddles and eliciting delight at every one.

My son teaches me that some things that I may find hum-drum, like puddles, are actually wondrous, if I just take a moment to enjoy them, if I forget about sneakers that will need to be dried or cold socks soaking my feet.

Today, look for the puddles. And hop in one.

5 Munch Bright Spots

After 2 non-blogging weeks--which was the first time I failed at one of my New Year's Resolutions, to blog at least once a week--I'm putting up a post that fights against the relative bleakness that has been April 2013. There have been bright spots--not the least of which being our trip to the Eastern Shore to do Munch's 2-year pictures, and that post is tops of my list to write.

But there's also been bombings and explosions, ailing family cats (my sister's), egg-icide (I had to move a bird's nest from my front door and it had eggs in it FML), daycare pseudo-drama, mind-failing grandparents, and various other stresses that have made it a trying month.

BUT through it all Munch has remained the brightest, most amazing spot, as always. And here are 5 reasons why.

1) How he squeezes my nose and when I go "meep-meep-meep" he laughs hysterically.

2) How after his 2-hour ride in the Cozy Coupe yesterday afternoon, when he's woken up from sleep and immediately says, "Bye-bye car." He handled the end of the ride so maturely, saying "Nigh-nigh car" as I locked it back in our shed.

3) How he squeals with delight when he sees the "wee" (playground with slide) come into view.

4) How he "shopped" in our living room Saturday night, picking up every item he could find (his bottle, random socks, toys) and put them in his shopping cart, jabbering the whole time.

5) How he says "Daddy" in a tone I unfortunately can't describe adequately in writing, after Hubs swings him or tickles him or chases him. In that one word is delight, father-son collaboration, head-shaking "how can you be so silly" wonder, and love.

A Windy, Wonderful Birthday

4/6/2013 Update: It's now 2 weeks past the party, and the weather is looking up--not breezy today, of course! I finally got some pictures uploaded. Enjoy!

I can't believe that one week ago right now, Hubs and I were bundling Munch up in the freezing March weather to go to the National Aquarium in DC for his BIRTHDAY!

We had a really fabulous birthday weekend, all told. The party picnic was well-attended DESPITE the horrid wind. And Munch was in a good mood the whole time! He even napped when he was supposed to.

Friday Highlights

Like I said, Friday morning, we went to the National Aquarium. This is not a massive aquarium, by
any stretch of the imagination. It's essentially a room in the basement of the U.S. Department of Commerce building and features aquariums inspired by various parts of the world--the Potomac River, the Great Lakes, the Great Barrier Reef, etc. We'd briefly considered going to the amazing Baltimore Aquarium, but at $30 a pop, we figured we'd save that for when Munch could "get" it a little more.

And that likely was a good plan, as Munch was most interested in the curving blue staircase. He looked at the large enclosure filled with American alligators and when we looked in each window, he said "allo" (water), but then he'd look at me and say, "stairs." So we walked around for a bit, then he ran up and down the length of the room for a while, picked out a stuffed starfish, and then we left, via said staircase.

Munch has been to the National Zoo twice before, which is technically in DC, but this was his first time downtown, near the Mall. We wanted to walk to the White House, which is close to the Commerce building, but it was so windy, and Munch was fighting a head cold, and I didn't want to risk him being sick for his party.

Saturday Highlights

Star cakes courtesy of
my lovely older sister

Saturday, which also happened to be my birthday, dawned at least sunny and, we thought, with calm breezes. Much to our dismay, when we got out to the picnic shelter, we discovered that in an open field, the wind was quite ... roaring. So some things went by the wayside--my MIL had gotten nice primary color tablecloths ... they blew right off, no matter how much tape I tried. I'd gotten some stars to hang up on the posts ... same issue, and they kept hitting people like Chinese fighting stars. I wanted guests to write messages to Munch on star cutouts--no way that was happening. It's a good thing I didn't get balloons.

Party favors courtesy
of my lovely MIL

BUT, there was a lot of room, which was our main goal. People mingled, ate pizza and cake, and watched Munch run around, down a sloping hill and up to the parking lot. Lots of our friends who we don't see too often came, so it was great to catch up, and it was wonderful bringing both sides of the family together. Hubs and I are always so thankful that Munch is so beloved and that our families' love for him brings everyone together.

Gold star for all

Will we have Munch's March birthday outside again? We'll see. USUALLY, the weather is at least 15 degrees warmer right now. I believe this year was an anomaly. And the lesson I am glad I learned before the party: Be prepared to adjust expectations. If I had had my heart SET on certain things, like the decorations, I likely would have been devastated. I concentrated on enjoying what was happening rather than lamenting what "should" have happened. Removing the pressure from myself and the event led to a very enjoyable time!


Amazing Hubs

And though for the past few years, my own birthday has taken a backseat to Munch's (in my own mind), so many people made me feel special for the occasion. My parents, sisters, MIL, and even some friends got me some wonderful presents.

And Hubs gave me one of the most thoughtful gifts he's ever done--a myriad of presents, some over the top and totally more than I expected, that are meant to refocus me on my writing. It feels so wonderful to have a husband who nurtures my interests and cheers me on.

All in all, a successful turning 2 for Munch, leaving me grateful for many blessings.

And Then Munch Turned 2

2 years old!

So many things go through my mind on this momentous day. How FAST these 2 years have gone. How it seems that Munch has been in my life forEVER. How much he's changed since his 1st birthday. How TALL he is. How much he TALKS now.

Over the past year ...

• Munch learned to walk, taking his first long string of steps around 15 months.
• He rode an airplane.
• He served as the cutest ring-bearer who ever wore a baby tank top.
• Hair grew on his head so long, it's near mullet status now.
• Mommy manned up and started laying him down awake for naps and bedtime.
• Teeth sprouted with a vengeance.
• Restaurants have become a distant memory, for Munch rarely sits for long.
• Love affairs intensified with Elf, Monkey, Cow, and other lovies.
• He met Mickey Mouse and the gang.
• Ear infections gave us a reprieve.
• He "swam" in a pool, several of them, in fact.
• His palate expanded, but let's not get crazy.
• Stars, moons, and circles delight him.
• He weaned.
• He stayed overnight with Gramma and Grampa, and Mommy only cried a little.
• He outgrew two sizes (except pants, he can still fit into 18 months of those).
• Walking became an activity all of its own.
• Stairs have been conquered.
• We danced.

This list touches only the very surface of another magical year. The other day, I looked at Munch's sonogram pictures. This tiny little peanut-shaped centimeter is now 34 inches tall. He talks to me and understands what I say. He is a person, when 2 years ago, my body still felt his absence acutely, when 2 years ago, we had only just been separated, one being into two.

Thank you, Munch, for the joy you've brought to me and your daddy. For making me stronger and happier. For teaching me the extreme vulnerablilities a parent feels and for giving me the courage to know that it's worth it, that it's all--from the terror to the exhaustion to the gut-busting laughter--worth it.

Thank you for choosing me as your mother. I promise to do my very best for you, every day of my life.