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We’ve got to make this baby moment last.
You guys? Huck is omgomgomgomgomg TEN MONTHS OLD! We are three weeks away from ELEVEN months and seven weeks away from ONE YEAR OLD (God willing, fingers crossed- hello postpartum anxiety) and I ask you, how….how in the name of Katniss did this HAPPEN?
He was just born. I’m having an issue with this. All of a sudden it’s as if his babyhood is slipping through my fingers like the softest sweetest sand. And you know those last few grains slip away faster than the first. He is babbling away, eats bananas all by himself, kicking his feet happily and he munches away.
You can always tell how Huckie feels by his feet. Both legs kicked straight out in unison means a very mad Huckleberry. This usually occurs when you take a paper towel away from him. Baby loves him some paper towels. Feetsies kicking out alternating from left to right means a happy Huckleberry. This occurs much more often as he is by and large the happiest baby in land. When you smile at him, he kicks. Pick him up? Kicks. Sing to him, kick combo happy baby scream.
Tell me you don’t love the happy baby scream. You there in the corner? LIAR. You love it.
I am happy with all his progress, I want him to grow and be happy and kick his happy feet…but man it’s going so damn fast.
This past Saturday we gathered, friends and family, for my mother in law’s Seder. I love her Seders. First of all, who doesn’t love a religious ceremony where you lean to the left and drink? I mean, really. But mostly I love it because as we drink more and more wine we get sillier and sillier, and bless my mother in law’s heart, she laughs along with us. All the while I am cracking jokes and laughing till my eyes water, I am thinking how much groovier than me she is, because if this was my Easter dinner I would be freaking out at the giggling.
But she laughs hardest of all. Which is good because her son did a mighty fine rap of one part of the ceremony and we added several plagues to the ones that were unleashed upon the Egyptians such as Keeping Up With The Kardashians, Dance Moms, and Rick Santorum.
But the highlight of the night was, unsurprisingly, The Boss. Sitting at the dinner table he suddenly slammed a fist on the table.
“dammit!” slam again. “DAMMIT!” cried he.
“oh no, that is not a word we use” said I “especially not at the dinner table”
He paused, looking at all of us, moving only his eyes. Waited a good three seconds then:
“Awk-ward.”
Timing. The kid has it.
I wondered and wondered where he got that from. It was so specific. Slam. Dammit. SLAM. DAMMIT. And then after dinner my husband showed my SIL the funniest news bloopers, and there it was. I guess we are just lucky he didn’t say “keep f***ing that chicken.”
Last year the news reported that a mama duck had brought her ducklings to hatch at National Geographic. As soon as TOTT and my Father in Law arrived home I pounced on them there are ducklings at Nat Geo? Where are the pictures? I want to see them!
On Monday as we walked back to Daddy’s office from the White House we could see that they had roped off the reflecting pool in the courtyard in the few hours we had been gone.
Oh! Zach said, the ducks must be back! And they were. Mama is one smart duck and she knows everything stops at National Geographic for her and her babies! Thirteen in all this year, three born on Sunday and ten born just that day. And Oh! How sweet they are.
Nat Geo has Plan of Action for when Mama returns with her babies and she is well cared for and protected. If you ever doubt the hearts of men, glimpse everyone in action about these ducklings and mama. Yesterday they had an escort as they left the NG grounds, making their way down 16th all the way down to the White House. Now we will all wait, patiently, hoping that she will bring her next batch of babies to National Geographic.
Swoony.
Good job, mama, you couldn’t have picked a better place in D.C. to hang with your babies. It’s like you knew…
When The Boss was in utero we called him POTUS. Because, obviously. As he shows us his personality I believe the guys at the gym (who gave him his nickname and who I haven’t seen in ages because gym? what’s a gym?) were right on the money naming him Boss. He is both the boss in personality and takes after the BOSS boss. Springsteen- guitar wise that is.
We were lucky enough to get to go to the White House for the Easter Egg Roll and I was pretty sure he was going to go all Rock n Roll for the event. But I was quickly informed that “You don’t spike your hair to go to a playdate at the President’s house, Mommy!”
And then I died of cute.
In the spirit of Easter I pulled myself together and we combed his hair all sweet. But he is 3 and a half so you know that hair was a mess by the time we got there. No matter. Special thanks to Billy Joe Armstrong for making ties punk rock because not only did Boss happily put one on to go to the White House, he wore one to preschool today. (I died again)
The line to get in was INSANE but everything was as organized and moved as quickly as it could when you have 14,000 kids there and 35,000 people. Wow. The short story? We had a blast! I always wanted to go, it was so fun to be a part of a classic American tradition and I confess…I am a total sap, which you knew, when you entered the lawn you walked through a marching band which lined the walkway playing celebration, and born in the USA, and living in America and then they stopped and called out, as only a marching band can do: WELCOME TO THE WHITE HOUSE.
And then I cried. But just a little because there was fun to be had people…FUN!
First stop of course, was the egg roll! Despite an egg malfunction (that’s what happens when you step on said egg) a grand time was had!
Never fear! Daddy came to the rescue!
But then…then we saw her.
Smurfette. Oh. My GAWD. He was nervous. Not shy, not excited, nervous. It was so precious…I sometimes forget just how little he is. He is so verbal and loves things like, you know, GREEN DAY, but then he was so nervous and seemed so small waiting to meet his love, his “Snurfie”.
So I told him to give her a hug. He was so shy!
But just like a good boy he came running back to Mommy (who will always love him more than any other woman ever will, amiright fellow moms of boys?) calling out “I did it!”
We saw the bees, the garden and played spot the ginormous secret service agent hiding in the greenery. WHOA are those guys big. Those are the guys for the job, but they did an AMAZING job of staying out of the sight of the kids. The atmosphere was one of utter fun and relaxation. We also got to see the girls! THE GIRLS! Oh, they were lovely. They were home from school and brought some buds over to play in the yard. Wouldn’t you? They cheered on the little ones as they did the obstacle course and then did it themselves. It is such a joy to have kids in the White House.
We had a grand idea of getting a picture of the boys together with the White House in the background. You know how family portraits turn out…
Maybe one with Mommy, who is never in any pictures!
It was clearly time to give up and go have some Peanut Butter Pie at Old Ebbit’s. So that’s what we did.
Judging by my sore hips, back, neck and calves I think Michelle Obama would be please with the amount of walking, lifting and exercising I did yesterday, even if she wouldn’t approve of the Peanut Butter Pie.
Also? Am old. Pass the Ben Gay.
I don’t know about your high school, but at mine? The band kids were the WILDEST. And they were totally under the radar so they could like party like no ones business and never get a rep.
Buttheads.
Meanwhile I had one crazy bad junior high experience and was branded a slut for ages.
But I don’t need to go on Jerry Springer to get over it, I mean it was a hundred billion years ago. But that epithet has stayed with me throughout my life. I have wavered back and forth between Daddy issue inappropriate attention seeking and utter prissiness. Finally I have settled into happily married lady. Doing the challenge on iVillage was indeed out of my comfort zone and indeed there were several assignments that we just flat out skipped.
I mean really, if I can’t even stare in to my husband’s baby blues without laughing (watch here) what are the chances of us needed a safety word for jiminy’s sake?
I’ll tell ya…NONE.
And that’s okay. We are not those people. If you are, hey, that’s okay too! But as for me and my house just…no.
The challenge is over now but I think we will be keeping the focus on our couple relationship going. This was good for us, really good. Even if I did get the giggles. A LOT.
One thing is for certain, Zach and I need our own show.
