Thursday, September 30, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Have I mentioned that Brennan is ready for Baby Jones to get here already?
You may be thinking, "Oh, that's so cute, he talks about the baby."
Um, we're way beyond the casual mention.
As you can see, the old Time Out Bear is now serving as the unofficial Baby Jones. Brennan carries his baby everywhere. In addition to spending some quality time in the car seat, Brennan fed, rocked and then tucked the baby into the crib -- complete with an admonishment to Sherri that "Shh! Baby is sleeping!"
Don't even tell me that this isn't the cutest thing ever. I don't know how it's possible, but it makes me love that sweet, sensitive little guy even more. Melting heart, right here.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Ahoy, mates! It's International Talk Like A Pirate Day. Wrap a bandanna around your head, slap on ye ole eye patch and get ready to whoop it up like a true scalawag.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
So every Saturday, whether we're working in the yard, running errands or engaging in family fun time, we try to work a little black and gold into the ensembles. And of course 4039 is always flying the black and gold. Because if there's one thing the good old patchouli-burning, social justice-loving Shaw neighborhood needs, it's more meat head college flags flapping in the breeze.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Of course I loved to see that B still likes the fireman boots he received for his birthday last year. And that they still fit. And, of course, I was entertained by the pre-dinner popsicle bit. Of course they're having popsicles before dinner. This is Sherri's house.
Fast forward to last night, when Sherri calls to mock me for caving into Mary Clare's demands.
S: Geesh, Debbie. A cookie and you gave her milk back? Just because she cried?
D: Really, Sherri? Miss Pre-Dinner Popsicles is lecturing me about nutrition and child rearing?
You can imagine the response.
S: Tsk. Popsicles are just frozen water. And the baby really likes banana popsicles, so I usually have a popsicle when Brennan does.
D: Of course you do.
Brennan, as you can see, prefers the power of the bomb pop. Although Sherri says he has enjoyed a banana popsicle or two. Pre-dinner, of course.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Mary Clare is a crazy sippy cup thrower, and it drives me batty. I asked Miss Betty once if she does this at school, and I got a very emphatic, "She most certainly does not!" to which I unconvincingly responded, "Oh, yeah. Not at our house, either."
So, after yet another meal where she pitched her sippy cup several times, I finally made good on my threat and took away her sippy cup. Crying ensued. And not just any crying, but the kind with big fat crocodile tears rolling down a face that screams of betrayal. The second I saw those big fat crocodile tears, I asked, "Do you want a cookie?"
Boom. The crying stopped, but the crocodile tears remained.
Curses. Fooled again by the toddler.
Monday, September 13, 2010
*Friday I had to once again ask her to return Buddy's dog food to his bowl.
**Saturday I pried gravel out of her mouth. Again. The girl is way into rocks. I blame Aunt Sherri.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Honestly, though, how much is Mary Clare going to love this adorable handmade octopus from The Nesting Spot? Better yet, how much am I going to love having to make sure she doesn't give it to Buddy to fling and death roll every which way? Actually, forget both of them. This is just the splash or color and bit of whimsy the guest room needs.
Best of all, I won it for commenting on one of my favorite blogs, Prudent Baby, because hey, we all know how much I love to give my two cents when it comes to being prudent and having a baby.
So, who cares about last week's floral fracas, or the fact that the woman at TJ Maxx defiantly threw away the plastic bag I declined because I had my own, or that my sister keeps pointing out that Mary Clare seemingly always wears the same giraffe print romper? I'm a winner!
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
As much as I celebrate each new achievement, it makes me sad to hear people say "she's so grown up!" or to see how much room she now takes up in what was once an enormous crib.
The same goes for Brennan. One day he's all shy and bashful, and the next thing I know he's questioning Aunt Debbie's driving and telling me all about my uncle's farm, what babies say and what you need to give babies to be quiet (bottles, apparently). I love talking to him, but again, I can't help but long for the sweet, chubby baby who would let me pose him every which way during our rapid fire photo sessions.
Lest you all think I'm going bonkers, I have proof that Mary Clare and Brennan are, in fact, growing up. No, really, apparently that's what kids do.
September 2010: Trap them in a tree house, block the exits and hope for the best.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
I'm sorry you had to find out this way.
To bring you up to speed, yesterday there were emails exchanged, an apology offered, and, as you know, comments posted. While I'll admit it got my hackles up, possibly even more than the initial experience itself, I'd rather not dwell on it because the ol' blog has all of 10 readers, half of whom would rather see pictures of their grandchildren than listen to my thoughts on customer service.
So I'll leave you with this: Never mind which store it is. Never mind which store name they're operating under (despite being in the same building and having the same phone number and apparently the same owner). Never mind that it's wholesale. I think you must treat your customers in a courteous manner, no matter what they're buying or where they're buying it.
Which was really the whole point of the post, anyway.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Two weeks ago I was placing an order at Walter Knoll Florist, and the woman helping me was just downright rude. You see, there was some confusion because I thought she was there to help me, but no, she made it quite clear that was not the case when she stepped back from the computer, crossed her arms and said, "I'm just here to take your order."
Wow. Thanks for clearing that up, lady.
I was so flustered, I ordered way more than I needed, completed my transaction and then fumed the whole way home. Once home, I toyed with calling to cancel my order, but I was running short on time and frankly didn't have the fight in me.
But that was two weeks ago.
And now I have the fight back. So you better believe when I received shoddy customer service at another St. Louis store, I didn't take it sitting down. Oh, sure, I silently completed my transaction and fumed the whole way home, but once I got home, I let my fingers do the talking. I fired off a short little email and went about my business. An hour or so later, I received a very prompt and courteous response from the store manager, and I must say, she did a masterful job of clearly addressing the issue, as well as apologizing without making any excuses. I was impressed enough that I don't really want to dog the business here. But not quite impressed enough that I want to march back anytime soon.
My father-in-law, however, was incredibly impressed when Chip forwarded him the email exchange. When George is wronged, he's more the type to tap on the counter and have an airing of the grievances right then and there, but I still think he was impressed. And he says he doesn't like my sass. Pashaw.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
What he can't handle is the waiting. Nine months is a really, really long time when you're not even three years old. Case in point, the conversation that took place between Brennan and Sherri while they were working on the nursery.
B: Mom, when will the baby be here?
S: Pretty soon.
B: When I get up from my nap?
So, not quite that soon, but we are getting close to meeting Baby Jones. Only four more weeks to go, and that's if Sherri doesn't con her doctor into moving things along. Considering that they have zero boy or girl names, she might be better off going past her due date, or the baby might just be named Blue after all.