25 Days, 9

Dinner is in the oven and we have 20 minutes to kill with a play-food picnic on the floor.

25 Days, 8

Cambria 2007

On the way up north we stopped at the landmark Pea Soup Andersen's and ate soup in 100 degree weather.

partial ocean view

view from the boardwalk

view from the water

sand-eater

brr

rescue!

crash

fellas

mama hen

bucket

lucky baby

On the way back from lunch: zebras on the side of the highway.

good day

home

25 Days, 7

I know it is such a cliche: "Oh, I have to have fresh flowers in the house at all times. Makes a house feel like a home."

But seriously:


$6 stem of hydrangea. Swoon.

25 Days, 6

We live in Southern California where it rains, maybe, three days a year. Also, when it rains (and when it don't. you know, always) we drive where we're going. Usually the furthest a body needs to trek is from the car to the door of wherever you're going.

So these are a completely ridiculous posession:


But truly the most perfect thing you could give a boy who loves shoes:

Intermission

I interrupt my "me me me" to bring you some "Dash Dash Dash."

A switch or something has been flipped in Dash's leetle melon recently and there's been this eruption of cognition that is astounding us with some regularity.

He used to respond to hugs by just kinda holding still and waiting to be let go. Starting two nights ago, you say "hug" and he opens his little arms as wide as they go and folds you into an embrace. Listen: until you have been made to fit into the arms of a one-year-old you haven't lived.

We have a book of safari animals and their corresponding sounds (you push the colored button that matches the page and hear the sound that animal makes). He learned pretty quickly the names and sounds of about four of the animals, and that was certainly enough for me to get on the phone to Mensa. But last night, when we got to the page with the chimp that he always called "monkey," and that I always called "good enough," he said "chimp." Chimp! How? Then we turned the page, he said "el-e-tant," so I passed out.

He can say what he wants, then he can go and get it. He can pull his socks off (which might seem less than amazing but we've been working on this for many months). He can eat spaghetti with a fork (it's not pretty, but it happens).

Things seemed to slow down a bit over the summer. Words were learned and inches were acquired, but it all happened at a pace that was more of a mosey than a sprint. He's sprinting now. I hope I can keep up.

25 Days, 5

I have been obsessed with the idea of an honest-to-goodness family vacation since before I even became pregnant. The whole packing up the wagon and playing I Spy and stopping at truckstop diners appeals to every part of me as a parent and as a human. So, despite some pretty serious terror about TWO WHOLE NIGHTS AWAY FROM HOME WITH A ONE-YEAR-OLD, we're pulling the trigger on our first family vacation to a small town a few hours north of us.

But almost more importantly, I get to make a list. I love lists the way only a fellow-compulsive can understand. I've been (and I should be ashamed but I'm not) Googling "family+vacation+packing+checklists" for ideas about making a better list. When I have a spare moment at the office I daydream about how I will group Dash's toys, and which bags will go in the trunk vs. up front with me. I have written out a separate list of what snacks we'll pack in the cooler.

We don't leave for Cambria until Saturday morning, but my vacation started a week ago, when I started making lists.

25 Days, 4

We recently inherited some shelves for our office/playroom from Josh's parents. They were built-in to their office, so they aren't a perfect fit here. Mainly, there was one side that fit against their wall so was left unfinished. Here, there are about three feet between where the shelves end and the window seat begins. I thought that three feet could make a lovely reading nook for Smalls (in like, what, 3 years? when do they read?), but I hated the look of bare particleboard.

So lookit what I did:


I cut down some cork tiles to fit and adhered them with foam stickers and upholstery studs. Then I tacked ribbons onto the center of each tile and hung Dash's art from clothespins on each ribbon. Later, when he can be trusted, Dash can use thumbtacks to tack up whatever he pleases. Whole shebang cost less than $30 and took 2 hours, tops.