Sherri dreams of a child prodigy

I received the following email from my sister this morning:

So, Brennan says "mmmom mmom mom" and I decided that he is definitely saying "mom." Last night I had a dream that Brennan said his second word, and it was "vegetable." Yes. Clearly, he is a genius and is ready to move on to four-syllable words.

I love this little tidbit for two reasons. One, Sherri had a dream about this and she actually told me. Two, Brian hates vegetables with a passion. So much so that it actually pains him to see Brennan eat his vegetables.

This talking thing is going to be awesome.

Our little work of art

Babies, even the in utero ones, bring out something in people I can't quite explain. When I'm out running errands, cars don't zoom through pedestrian walkways when they see the belly. I get a lot of kind smiles from strangers. People rush to open doors. No belly touching by strangers yet, but that's a relief. And then, there are the gifts. Oh, how I love the gifts.

Our incredibly thoughtful friends sent wonderful cards, helpful books, teeny-tiny onesies, burp cloths and the like. Family members passed on things like a papasan chair their baby barely used, or items they came across while out shopping. And then there's my mom. She is constantly on the prowl for things the baby and Brennan might need when they visit. It is unthinkable that a grandchild of hers should have to suffer through a weekend without being able to swing indoors or outdoors.

We love and appreciate every single thing that has found its way into our home, but I must say that the item above really touched me because it is, of course, a picture of our four-legged baby for the two-legged baby's room. Our friends the Hehmeyers are the responsible party, and I completely teared up when I opened their gift. Our Buddy! A work of art! Really, it's so wonderful that I couldn't keep it to myself. Buddy love must be shared with the world.

Okay, I need to stop now, because I'm not really sure what to think of myself right now. I can't even think of a snarky way to end this post. This is all so very upsetting.

The pampered chef

While whipping up a batch of fresh salsa last night with her Pampered Chef food chopper, my sister realized that Brennan is insanely delighted by this particular kitchen gadget. Sherri would chop, chop, chop, and Brennan would just laugh like crazy. Sherri promptly called both my mom and I so we could bask in the sound of his laugh. I am admittedly head over heels for the boy, but honestly, there isn't anything better than the sound of Brennan's laughter. It has a very consistent, hiccup-like quality which makes it, of course, the laugh of a genius.

Anyway, this little discovery benefits me in two ways. One, Sherri can get Brennan to laugh on demand for his Crazy Aunt Debbie. Two, Chip is constantly giving me grief about the seemingly endless stream of kitchen gadgets that find their way into our cabinets and drawers. Now that I know you can substitute a food chopper for a drum or a pastry scraper for, say, a shovel, well, I'm sorry, but that's one less toy we'll have to buy for this baby.

Somewhere, Chip is nodding his head in agreement, pleased that he married a money-saving genius. Who cooks.

Swing boy

Sherri sent me some pictures from last week's swinging adventure, and I couldn't help but notice how quickly Brennan has changed since the pictures below were taken in May and June. The little tiger is getting so big, I can hardly stand it. Less than a month to go before I get to squeeze those ham hocks.

Life with the lady is hard

Just when we decide yes, Buddy would definitely leave us for the next squirrel that scampers by, he goes and does something cute like this.

I was reading in the middle room one night last week and Chip came in to talk to me for awhile. Buddy then decided the love seat was where he simply must rest his weary Lab bones -- couch, chair, ottoman and carpet be damned. Chip accommodated him because, really, there's no way we can say no to The Face when he chooses to honor us with his presence. I was just getting ready to say, wow, he really does like us, when Chip brought me back to reality with, "You know he doesn't want to cuddle. He just wants to dominate."

Oh well, you take what the Lab gives you and you like it.

It didn't take long before both the boys dozed off, and I was able to get this picture. The flash woke them up and they were none too pleased. Tough cookies, boys. It was time for bed, anyway.

Click here for a few more of Buddy's summer adventures, most of which involve food or collapsing on the floor in a hairy heap.

The new face of our freezer

So, you kids know that no one has ever used the word waifish when describing Chip or I. Sturdy, maybe. Svelte, not so much. Nevertheless, I have always refrained from keeping things like ice cream, potato chips and cookies in the house because hello, we have no willpower. I actually stock a reasonably healthy pantry and fridge. Chip will vouch for this, as apparently hummus and celery sticks are not only the devil's snack, but something that makes people declare, "I feel like my throat's been cut."

Along with my gym attendance, the no junk food policy came to a screeching halt when pregnancy hit. I'm not gorging myself, but when I'm in the grocery store, I can't make it past the ice cream aisle without stopping. Seriously. It started with a package of drumsticks. The next week it was a gallon of Edy's no sugar-added ice cream. To make up for that crap decision, I went with Edy's slow churned Rocky Road the following week. Then all hell broke loose, and I came home two weeks ago with two gallons of Edy's slow churned ice cream and a package of drumsticks. Every week or so, I stand in front of the freezer case, and it does not even occur to me to close the door and proceed to the checkout line sans frozen treats. Going home without ice cream is not an option.

Once I get home, I stealthily unpack my purchases, hoping that Chip won't see my loot. It's better if he doesn't know, because what if he decides to have some ice cream, and the next time I go to the freezer to feed the habit, there's only one scoop of spumoni left? Even worse, what if we hit the cookie dough ice cream hard and run out? What would become of me?

I only have ice cream once or twice a week, but my obsession has reached epic proportions. If you don't believe me, ask Chip about the time he lied and told me he ate the last drumstick. I went batshit crazy.

After presenting me with what was, in fact, the last of the drumsticks, Chip laughed and said, "Pregnancy is awesome." He paused, and then added, "Well, the ice cream part, anyway."

Hammer time

Brennan comes from a long line of men who are what you might call "handy." His dad Brian is an engineer, his paternal grandfather teaches sheet metal, and his maternal grandfather is a superintendent of construction. Solid, strong and with a mind of his own, Brennan is a boy's boy, and his toys reflect this. Instead of a rocking horse, he has a Harley-Davidson rocking motorcycle, and his toy bin boasts a Tonka truck, cars, play tools and athletic-inspired stuffed animals and toys. So it makes perfect sense that when presented with a hammer, Brennan uses it as a microphone.

I'm telling you, that boy has a future on the stage. Jazz hands!