To each his own.

The little guys have created have some very definite ideas about how they like to spend their days. Some are funny, some irritating, some just make more work for us, and some are downright adorable. Jonathan, at 3 1/2, is starting to be less "toddler" and more "little boy." He likes to emulate his 2 favorite characters (Diego and Dora) by wearing a backpack around most of the time. By most of the time, I mean all of the time. He sleeps with it, even. Usually he keeps only the essentials inside-- a book on firetrucks and another one on animals, and several handfuls of cars.
He also likes to be the boss. When he thinks Ethan is misbehaving, we usually know because he gets out his sternest voice and exclaims, "baby, go sit a chair!" or, "baby- go bed!" He is very keen on the idea that everyone must obey the rules, including the grownups. "Mommy, get out of the refrigerator!" He even follows me into the bathroom sometimes, congratulates me on a job well done, then stands there and reminds me to flush the toilet and wash my hands. I don't know where I'd be without him.
Jonathan is fascinated with shapes, and wants to know what everything is. I've learned that giving him fruit snacks no longer buys me the few moments of silence that it used to. He studies every shape intently, then asks me what it is. He wants to make sure I get it right, and when I don't, he teaches me what it really is.
Jonathan is every bit as stubborn as mommy when it comes to his recollection of the facts. He is never wrong. He will not budge, for example, on the exact name of a napkin. He always asks for "my face," which is probably my fault ("here Jonathan, wash your face"). Speaking of which, the kid can't stand to be messy. When he is finger painting, he will dip one little finger in, and can't wait to wash it off when he's done. A little bit of milk spills and he loses composure. "What a mess! You spilled it!" He then runs to get "my face" and cleans up the floor. Gutting his pumpkin last night almost reduced him to tears. He reminds me of Danny Tanner, to the extent that I wouldn't be surprised if I saw him trying to vacuum the vacuum cleaner.
Ethan, while nothing like his older brother, is just as talented at making me laugh. His newest activities include pulling off his left sock and shoe as soon as we get in the car (the right one is left untouched), watching you watch him throw something on the floor, then adamantly proclaiming that it fell, dragging a gallon of milk to you as a way of asking for some, and occasionally using the potty chair (which he insists on emptying himself-- I wish he wouldn't). Ethan also has a talent for pretend-sleeping. He turns his head to the side, squeezes his little eyes shut, and snores obnoxiously. When he's certain he has your attention, he throws his hands in the air, opens his eyes so they are as wide as his smile, and shouts, "hooray! It's me!"
Sometimes I worry I'm going to forget all the silly things they do. Like when Ethan randomly bursts into song (I'm the MAP!!" or Twinkle Twinkle, little Tar) or does a silly rendition of Little Bunny Foo Foo. Or when I get all dressed up and Jonathan gives me his best compliment ("You handsome, mommy, you so handsome!") Or the way Ethan plays "teek-a-boo" and Jonathan calls everyone he meets "friends." Or the way they both call each other baby. I find some consolation in the firm belief that part of being a good mom is forgetting things. Because honestly, if we remembered everything they broke and every time they embarrassed us, we might somtimes forget to love them to pieces. And really, that's the only part that matters.

Adventures in escaping the heat.

A few weeks ago, when the temperature started climbing into the 90's inside, James and I spent a day taking the kids out and avoiding our apartment. We were in the middle of an adventure at Verizon when Ethan started repeating the phrase "yucky, yucky poopy." He says that whenever he needs a diaper change, regardless of the nature of said diaper. It had been so hot that we had been pushing fluids into them, and Ethan's diaper was a little worse for the wear. I got to the car and discovered there were no diapers in sight. Ethan and I trooped over to the neighboring gas station, where they stocked size 3 diapers and nothing else. That might have covered one of Ethan's butt cheeks. Maybe. We wandered over to Kmart, which was just a little further, and decided to call James. Except that his phone was being serviced. So here we are, hurrying through the store, over in the pharmacy section. We find all sorts of baby wipes, but no diapers. I did glance briefly at the small adult diapers, but only because I felt *so* bad for my little squishy butt. I can't even imagine how awful it would be to be swimming in your own pants.

We finally asked an employee, who directed us to the infant clothes section. Who'da thunk it.

I selected my little package of Luvs, and decided to tuck away into the back corner to change him there. When I crouched down and pulled off Ethan's little pants, I discovered his diaper had already fallen off. Seeing as we had walked through half of the store, and James was certainly worried about where we were, we had to forgo an extensive search. We did give it a half-hearted look-around, and vowed never to show our faces there again. I still feel bad for the poor person who ended up discovering the aftermath of 3 hours worth of forced beverages.

"Frump Girl."

I frequently find myself thinking of that scene in My Big Fat Greek Wedding, when Toula mentions her "frump girl" phase to Ian. She is referring to most of her entire life. I feel her pain. Like, the other day when we decided to take the boys to Kohl's. I was wearing some ugly T shirt, and a pair of khakis I've had for years, and feeling like a mighty frump girl myself. James suggested I buy some new clothes while we are at Kohl's. Usually, the boys interfere quite devastatingly with clothes shopping, but this time James kept them occupied in the toy aisle. We left the store a little while later in search of dinner. We decided on Uno, and I told James I was debating on changing into a new outfit in the bathroom. He suggested just changing quickly in the car. I tried to play a little game I like to call "Mirror mirror on the wall, which choice is most ghetto of all?" I pictured myself walking in and changing in the bathroom. Awkward, ghetto. Same thing for the car. Same thing for wearing said t shirt and khaki's. Once we pulled into the parking lot, I realized it was extremely dead. I changed my mind and decided that changing in the car was a fairly safe alternative. In the past, when I have done such costume changes, I've always screwed myself over trying to do it slowly, delicately, discretely. This time I decided to just do it quickly. As soon as I whipped my shirt off, a girl appeared out of nowhere. She of course owned the car next to mine. She stared right at me as I helplessly threw my t shirt back over the front of me. She wasn't leaving the restaurant; she just spent 3 minutes looking for something in her car before going back inside. I suspect she wanted to find her digital camera to take a picture for failblog. Anyway, she finally left (picture 3 minutes of sitting awkwardly in your car with your shirt hastily thrown over the front of you). Once I was decently covered, my first order of business was to send James a text. "WORST IDEA EVER."

Just desserts.

After dinner tonight, James started loading a game of Peggle. I informed him that I would not be interested in Peggling until we had some kind of dessert. He was amenable at first, until he saw me looking up the hours for Biscotti's. "You aren't going all the way to Biscotti's, are you?!" He informed me that what I think is a ten minute drive is really 20 minutes one way, plus 20 minutes of me gawking at desserts, and if i leave now I will be wanting to go to bed by the time I get home. I sighed and split the last slice of Carvel ice cream cake (I get the top half, he gets the bottom half), and we commenced in our Peggling adventures.

Hours later, someone commented on my buddy's wall that they have been filming Hell's Kitchen at Dinosaur BBQ today. Of course there was nothing along these lines on any Google search (I should have checked Twitter), and he persuaded me to go check it out. I was 400 feet away when James called to say that it is actually Man V. Food that has been filming all day. Not that either of us really thought Gordon Ramsay would really be in Syracuse, but it would have been cool.

"Should I still go in?"

James says I totally should, and please bring home some macaroni and cheese.

In my haste, I had taken James' cell phone instead of mine, and left my ipod charging at the computer desk. I wasn't really sure what to do with myself for 20 minutes while they prepared our food, so I made up an excuse to call James. "Hey, are you interested in a Boylan's soda?" Yeah, that was a dumb question.

He asks me a question of equal value, however. "Hey, did you get me some kind of meat too?"

"What are we, newlyweds? Would I seriously come home from Dinosaur with just a styrofoam cup of macaroni and cheeses?"

I also treated myself to a Dinosaur brownie. Total win. Even if I didn't get to share it with the most amazing British Chef ever.

Date Night!

A couple of weeks ago, my aunt and uncle offered to watch the boys one night while James and I went out for the evening. We thought they were just being polite, and figured it would never come to fruition. Then my aunt actually pulled out her planner and started talking about a day. I was floored. I pulled out my planner, we chatted and when Thursday night came, so did they. It was an almost surreal experience, made more real by Ethan's screaming, which we heard almost the entire to drive to Scotch & Sirloin.

We were shocked when we arrived home, and Aunt Sue already had her planner in hand. "What day works for next week?"

So, tonight was date night number 2. We finally settled on a restaurant (Bonefish Grill), and ordered salads. James opted for the anchovies on his caesar salad. I tried not to make a face. "Honey, you need to try one. They are delicious."

"No thanks."

"Have you ever tried one before?"

"Not yet. I decided my first anchovy experience will be when I make homemade caesar dressing."

"Here you go."

A moment later James informed me that he saw me move the anchovy under my plate. He placed it back on my salad. I grudgingly moved the anchovy to my fork, and a moment later was holding my most sour face. "Nice try, Danielle." He shifted my plate a little to the left. "Oh look, an anchovy." James put the anchovy on his bread plate as the waitress cleared it.

"You didn't have to do that, James, I was going to eat it."

"No, you weren't."

"I would have."

I should have known better. After 4 years of marriage, I KNOW he will always call my bluff. He offered a replacement, I was cornered. It turns out they are not so bad as I expected.

After dinner, and as we were leaving Kohl's, James spotted their version of the reusable bag. It is a perfect design, and even snaps up into a little square. It accompanied me this evening to Wegmans. I felt pretty cool, eco friendly bag carrying my organic berries, until I couldn't fit into my car--- my shopping basket was still slung over my arm. Trendy FAIL.

Adventures of Preggers Past

Two falls ago, James and I had a pretty perfect Tuesday/ Thursday routine. He got done with class at 2:15, I would meet him at LeMoyne with Jonathan, and the 3 1/2 of us would have lunch together before I left to go for my 3 o'clock shift. One such beautiful day, I took the Monkey outside, loaded him in the car, and turned the key in the ignition. Now, let's dial it back about 16 hours.

Jessica and I went to go on an evening of adventures (I think we exchanged something at the body shop and possibly bought socks-- something that is only fun because you are with an awesome friend), and I remember on my way home, I drove right past the gas station thinking, "I just don't wanna."

So, now as I am turning my key in the ignition, nothing happens. I quickly went through options in my head. (1) Hyundai roadside assistance (2) ask Jessica to drop what she is doing and help me out, or (3) toss Monkey in the umbrella stroller and book it for the nearest gas station. I decided, for some reason, that #3 was the easiest. I tried to guess which of the two nearby gas stations was the closest, and away we went. I can't imagine what I must have looked like, on the way there-- a pregger in scrubs racing with a scared kid in an umbrella stroller, or on the way back, with an added gas can. Anyway, after I reached home, having had some pretty intense activity-related contractions and feeling like a real winner, I decided I would never again cruise by a gas station on E.

Personal Growth.

When James came home from his mission, he talked a lot about setting and reaching goals. He taught me that if you aren't trying to accomplish a task or stretch yourself in some way, you just will not be fully satisfied with your life. After some time, I decided to take violin lessons again. I pick my violin up every year around Christmas, so James and I can play O Holy Night, and possibly a few other random times throughout the year. It's not exactly like riding a bike. Anyway, I finally decided it would be worth the effort and money to go back to being a student. A woman at our church teaches lessons, and I somehow got over the mortification of having "tapes" put back on my violin. Congratulations, Danielle, you are officially back in 4th grade. Over the next several weeks, she began re-molding my bow grip, adjusting my finger positioning, and teaching me 14 syncopations for Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I somehow found time to practice, and we got just to the point of learning more advanced things. I'm not sure what advanced things they would have been, but I'm thinking it might have possibly even been "Mary had a Little Lamb." About this time, she went on a month long vacation for Christmas. I was supposed to be practicing bowing my thigh to some special rhythm (I'm not sure why she wanted me to practice without the violin, except possibly to give my family a break of some sort), but never found the motivation the whole month long. I had just enough time for one hobby, and I decided I would rather bake than pretend my leg was a violin. As long as I make goals for myself (this week, a chocolate chocolate chip muffin that rivals Wegmans), I don't feel like a total slacker for giving up violin lessons. Again.