Vintage Halloween Hop

What I should be doing right now is finishing Calder's Batman costume. What I would like to be doing is sleeping. What I am doing is reminiscing about Halloween's past for Suzanne and Amy's Vintage Halloween link up. This is the first year in ages that I have no Halloween partying planned. As such, I have no costume for myself. This is good in its own way since that means I have more time to devote to Calder's. Sure I could just buy a Batman costume but I come from a long tradition of homemade costumes. Even with four kids, my mom managed to make our outfits from scratch almost every year. Sure sometimes we went as totally un-PC hobos or as a simple witch using her college graduation gown but we almost never had cheapy plastic masks of death in the current popular character of the era (much to our chagrin at times).

Mickey, I don't remember this one at all.

Every year our church had a Halloween party in the basement with treats, a costume parade and a contest for the best get up. I am fairly certain my mother was determined to win it every year. Unfortunately my mind is totally shot and I have no clue if we ever took home the top prize.

Me: Wipes, Sister: Baby Powder, other sister may have been Diapers?

If we ever did win it all, the above ensemble surely must have done it. Pretty creative I'd say. Of course diapers, wipes and powder may have been all my mom could think of after having four kids between 1978 and 1983.

This is NOT black face. Note: No peripheral vision whatsoever.

I distinctly remember one year, my mom made this amazing bee costume for my younger sister. She proceeded to immediately lose one of the balls from her deely bobbers and she cried the whole way around the neighborhood.

Ahhh, the days before you could say, "Your eyes were closed, take another one.

 I distinctly remember the making of this costume. There are abouit 4000 coats of yellow spray paint on it since the cardboard kept absorbing it.I also had to trick or treat one handed since I could reach all the way around the box to grab my bag with both hands, even with a pillow case. Oh how we coveted those plastic pumpkins everyone else had.

All my mom's hard work stuck with me through the years. Like most normal teens I drifted away from the elaborate costumes and trick or treating but that all stopped my senior year in high school. For our senior Halloween party, a large group of us decided to attend as a huge group of Star Wars characters. I got picked to be Leia, naturally.

I even made the hair donuts.

This was my first attempt as sewing my own costume, a tradition I have maintained pretty much ever since. I don't claim to be a great sewist or even a moderately good one, but the neat thing is, when you tell someone  that you have made that giant dino suit all by your lonesome? No one cares how crappy the work actually is. Sure Calder may someday start begging for the latest and greatest Nick character or want to wear a superhero costume that is canonically accurate but that's why I have two kids, right?

Wordless Wednesday: Bubbles!

It's Never Too Early to Think About Christmas... Cards!

So waaaaaaay back when I was just a touch over 20 weeks pregnant with Wren, I had to go to the ultrasound by myself because Bruce had hockey. Or something. I just assume it was hockey. It's always hockey. Since I was in sole possession (OK, I maybe texted Cary as soon as I found out) of the answer to the sex of our child, I decided to find a fun way of announcing it to him. Seeing as how Macy's was on my way home from the doctor, I decided to pop in and pick out a really cute girl outfit and have it gift wrapped for him. Since all of the Christmas clothes were on super clearance discount sale I got two. One for the actual holiday festivities whatever they might be and one for nice, professional photographs that I can use for my Christmas cards.

This year, Shutterfly is partnering with bloggers to give away codes for 25 free Holiday cards. Unfortunately, no one reads my blog so I don't have any codes to give away BUT! You can swing by Bebehblog and BabyBabyLemon and enter their giveaways. I am a fan of Shutterfly and have been for years, I have been storing my photos with them since 2004 and used them to make an awesome invitation for my mother's surprise 60th birthday party. This all is to say that even though they are providing me with my own 25 cards, I would still be saying nice things about them. So, before you go off and try to win you own cards, here are my suggestions for what you should be trying to win!

 A picture, 1000 words. Especially if you can only get the family to sit still for one good shot.

I will be honest with you. I cannot stop laughing at this one. Though in our house it would totally be a picture of Bruce.

Love. Love love love lovelovelove. I love the black and white. I love the tree in the middle. I love that this card actually uses two photos so you don't even have to make the kids pose nicely together.

Have I convinced you yet? Don't forget there's also plenty of other gifts to choose from. We all know someone who is hard to shop for but I bet that person drinks hot beverages on occasion. If so, go over and see Suzanne and Amy to enter their giveaways or just go straight to Shutterfly and start creating your cards right now. Just don't forget to send me one.

Family Time

I kind of feel bad for Bruce's parents, they come all the way down from Canada and the most excitement we could round up for them was a trip to the Evanston nature center and a Saturday at the hockey rink for one of Bruce's games and Calder's lesson. Oh wait. Bruce took them to Target. They're first trip ever. I am sure they'll treasure it always.

Checking out the turtles with Grammie

The worst part is, all of these things, we couldn't do all together because there is no way we can fit four adults and two car seats in our car. It's not even that small. Why DON'T they make six seaters any more? My turn to miss out what the nature center. Apparently the guy there took all the animals out of their cages so Calder and Wren could pet them. Except the snakes, they had just eaten. I bet Calder was mad he missed that part.

OMG adorable sweaters

The weather in the Chicago area was nice-ish for their visit. There was rain but there was also plenty of sun for everyone to hang out in the back yard blowing bubbles and playing Calder Attack. Bruce's mom came with us to the hockey stuff. Originally we were going to treat Calder to a happy meal to kill the hour or so between ice times but the fire house just down the street from the rink was having a fire safety open house with bouncy castle and free hotdogs. Free lunch is always better than any other kinds of lunch and once Calder laid eyes on the bounce house, we knew there was no chance he'd shut up about it. You could also go look at the trucks and stuff and there was an emergency-ladder climbing station and a guy making stuff with balloons. Did you know Bruce's mom is secretly hilarious?  I had no idea. We had left Calder's balloon sword in the car during his lesson. Since the day was pretty warm, when we got back to the car it had half deflated. On the drive home my mother-in-law was attempting to placate Calder by repositioning the still-inflated portions into another sword. After a while I heard, "Oh, that's not good." and I turned around and just busted a gut laughing. Not only had the normally very straitlaced woman just made a balloon penis for her grandson, she actually pointed it out to the rest of the car. I die.

The best part of their trip was that I finally got to see pictures of Bruce as a kid. Weird, I know, right? I have only been to his parents' place once and since they were military, they moved a lot so a bunch of their stuff is in storage. His mom brought a little photo album down for us and let me just say, the Bard is maybe not as strong with Calder as I had previously believed.

Dude. DUDE.

The Imaginarium of Dr. Calderus

A long, looooooong time back, I briefly mentioned Calder's cups, the row of coffee mugs in the window of the apartment next door. When I said he had constructed a relationship with them I wasn't kidding. In his mind they were "his" cups and when he saw them he would exclaim, "My cups!" He also told them hello in the morning when getting his diaper changed and would say goodnight to them before we put him to bed. What a wonderful place it must be, the innerworkings of a toddler's brain. I can only guess, having no real experience in this field, that being two is like being on hard drugs ALL THE TIME. Sadly, now that Calder is older and we have moved, his cups have fallen by the wayside but his brain continues its frenetic activity and just may possibly have gotten weirder.
 
Calder, it seems like, is ALWAYS playing pretend. Is that a symptom of having almost no friends his age to play with? Possibly. Or is it because while I have been busy freaking out about how big Wren is getting, Calder has been busily creeping closer to four than three and now has the brain doohickey maturity to go with that. So now instead of emotionally imprinting on random inanimate objects, Calder is making up complex histories and backstories for them. Like this plastic Mountie figurine that he used to tell me was named Charlie Paper and that he liked to fight bears. Except now his name isn't Charlie Paper so stop calling him that, he doesn't like it, Mom! I think he still fights bears though. Calder also has a whole rotating cast of puppets and stuffed animals that he uses to enact highly overwrought kiddie soap operas every time he is sent to his room or put to bed against his wishes. I'll close the door and shortly the sounds of, "No hitting, Blue Puppy! Go time out!", throws Blue puppy across the room, "You so MEAN, Momma!" will come wafting out into the hallway. 

Playing dress up and pretend are some of Calder's favorite everyday activities. Sometimes he'll use his vast supply of dress up clothes to quickly cycle through character after character: Cowboy, Princess, Dr. Fireman (the doctor who is also a fireman), Chef, back to Princess, just Fireman, Puppy, etc and so on. Other times, he'll just spend a solid chunk of time in one outfit or another just going about his regular activities. Even superheros like to chase bubbles in the yard apparently. Once he even pulled down all the clothes hanging in his closet and had a fashion show for me. I clapped and cheered like a moron for ten minutes while he pranced around in his outfits and made a mental note to stop letting him watch Top Model with me. Project Runway is still on the table however. 

Dress up clothes are not necessary to drive Calder's flights of fancy. Being the boy-iest of boys, he can turn anything, ANYTHING into a gun and he will spend stretches of time storming around the house, fighting imaginary crime and refusing to answer to anything other than whatever superhero he has decided to pretend to be at that moment. "No, Momma, tell Wolverine to go brush his teef." Sometimes to mix it up, Calder will play the bad guy and go around the house practicing what he calls his "evil laugh". It's really very good. I may have one of the few children outside of Gotham who actively aspires to be a super villain some day.

Calder has also invented a whole stable of games for us to play with him. Shockingly, they all involve either running, throwing, hitting, or fake shooting and almost all of them end with the word Attack: Chief Attack (irritating the dog), Baby Attack (making block towers and trashing them before Wren can do it) and my favorite, Calder Attack. Calder Attack is one long protracted solo game of dodge ball. Basically, Calder runs around the back yard while Bruce tries to pelt him with various balls: bouncy, soccer, volley and basket being the usual weapons. For obvious reasons, the both really LOVE this game. It's great for burning off energy and frustration on both sides of the throwing arm.

Sometimes I do worry that Calder is lonely without a ton of other kidlets to throw down with and is missing out on quality playtime but I don't think I should let it darken my thoughts too much. As he said as he went outside to kill aliens with Grammie on Wednesday, "Don't worry, Mom. I got this."

Wordless Wednesday: Get Down, Baby!

Canadian In-Vasion

Several weeks ago Bruce and I had a discussion about when his parents should come for a visit. It went something like this:

Bruce: When should my parents come? They are open to whenever.

Me: Any time except for when I'm in Massachusetts because that would be pointless.

How that conversation should have gone:

Bruce: When should my parents come? They are open to whenever.

Me: Any time you don't have hockey every day for over a week.

So, they arrived last Wednesday and we have done exactly nothing but sit around my house with them. Due to a lack of vacation days, I am stuck at work and when I get home, Bruce has already left for hockey. This weekend we might have been able to do something fun except my wallet was stolen on Thursday night so I have no access to any money. Then Bruce, Wren and I came down with nasty colds and slept through most of Sunday. I'd feel bad for his parents except I know that they are really only here to bond with the kiddos and they are certainly getting that done in spades. 

However, it is a little weird to play solo hostess at night after the children are in bed and Bruce is gone. Any thoughts I might have had about throwing on a pair of sweatpants and drinking half a bottle of wine after the kids are in bed are completely scuttled. Also, blog posting has been put on hold because I am not sure that his parents even know I have a blog and telling them would be weird seeing as how it's been, oh, over four years now.

Wordless Wednesday: Fried Butter and Other Stuff

Let Me Tell You a Story

Ten years ago today, Bruce was accosted in a bar by a drunk chick. She was wearing a ridiculous mini skirt and some totally slutty boots. After talking some incoherent nonsense for a bit she finally let him go to the bathroom like he originally wanted. Eventually said drunk chick was dragged off by her friends to go to a bar with dancing. Determined not to ever dance in public, drunk chick conned one of those friends into returning to that first bar with her, where she apologized to Bruce for being a moron. Bruce, ever gracious, asked for her phone number.

They dated for a bit, moved to Chicago, got married and had two amazing kids. She never stopped talking incoherent nonsense though. Turned out the alcohol had nothing to do with that.

Not the End.

Five Months

Today is Wren's fifth monthday. Every day I look at her and see how much she's grown and want to shout "When did you get so big?! Stop growing, dammit! I can't afford to want another baby!" I have no idea what the exact measurements would be but she seems so incredibly huge now. Enormous. She's got thigh rolls and elbow dimples. With a little help she can stand on the couch and look over the back.

 

I can't believe that dress won.

Wren loves her brother very much and often saves her biggest smiles for him. I think Bruce gets the most though. She's also very passionate about her pets and has charmed Molson  to an alarming degree. Yesterday I watched her love up on him, pull at his feet, tug on his ears and try to eat his fur for about thirty minutes. A few times he came over to me for some pets and then WENT BACK TO HER. A cat. Went back for more baby abuse. Miracles.The dog doesn't get ignored either. It was amusing to see her get so frustrated at my mom's house because the dogs there just did not give a damn. No food? Not interested. 

 

Nice kitty. Patpatpat.

Along with rice cereal and carrots, Wren has now tried bananas and peas and likes them both. As well as some closely supervised teething biscuits. As soon as I get my shit together I plan on making my own baby food. I have two cookbooks dedicated to it after all. I have a feeling she would eat whatever we let her try regardless of its homemade status. 

 

Teef for eating.

She is this close to getting into a crawling position. I have seen Wren get up on her knees several times and she can pushup like a champ. Coordinating the two is currently a challenge but if you position her arms while she is on her knees, she will hold it for a few beats. Temporarily, to get at the things she wants she sort of inchworms. Gets her butt up in the air and then tries to push herself forward. Depending on the floor surface it might work. Sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes she goes backwards. Wren is still babbling a lot and has figured out this annoying shrieking thing. It doesn't necessarily mean she's unhappy. Just bored and wants attention. She does this a lot. Too much even. I mean, I have to pee sometimes.

 

Mastered Skills (most kids can do):

Distinguishes between bold colors - I have no idea how we would detrmine this. It's not like I can ask her.
Plays with his hands and feet - Wren's obsession with her feet led to an interesting little contest between me and my brother-in-law to see who could put their foot in their mouth. We both won. Or lost, depending.

Emerging Skills (half of kids can do):

Recognizes own name - Maaaaaybe? Or pehaps it's just my incredibly shrill way of saying "Wrennie Bird" that gets her to whip her head around like that.

Turns toward new sounds - See above. Definitely reacts to the dog barking, cat meowing, brother yelping.

Rolls over in both directions - Yes, she's much less reticent about the front-to-back now but she still prefers to remain on her tummy.

Advanced Skills (a few kids can do):

Sits momentarily without support - She apparently learned to do this while I was at work on Friday. And her version of momentarily is actually more like kind of long.

Mouths objects - Objects, pets, cousins, my face.

Separation anxiety may begin - It's possible but eh. At the reception for my sister, Wren was pretty tolerant about letting other people hold her but as the night wore on she pretty much cried for anyone except me or my sister. However the next day she was more than happy to sit with one of my aunts and had spent the last 4 hours of our Big E trip being worn by Kathy, my sister's mother-in-law. Wren has become a bit needy about the holding though. While she used to be pretty content in her jumper or chair, now if we set her down for even a minute without a full compliment of amusements, her displeasure will be made known.

Regardless of what she can and can't do at this stage, I love her like whoa. I love having someone who will let me snuggle and kiss to my heart's content. I look at Calder and I look at Wren and I know this stage won't last for long. Soon she'll be a romping stomping toddler and then a shouty little thing who won't let me get too close unless tired or hurt. But just like Calder, I know I'll love her just as much as I do now, even if it is a tiny bit harder sometimes.

So That Wasn't Everything

One thing I failed to include in my trip roundup was Calder's run in with Jack the Baby-Eating Beagle. Jack is a former resident of my older sister's house but after discovering his taste for baby flesh was unquenchable, he was shipped off to my parents' house to live out his crotchety old age in a mostly baby-free environment.

This arrangement works out pretty well unless, you know, someone like me drops by with their kids for a week. Calder has seen the pictures of his cousins in the aftermath of their respective beagle encounters and was warned heartily to stay away from the dog and, above all things, to not screw around with his food or toys. He was able to listen as much as he ever is and successfully stayed away from Jack about 75% of the time. Sometimes his compulsion to tenderly cradle a dog's head in his hands and kiss it on  the nose is just too strong. These moments would leave me holding my breath fr much longer than necessary but as long as I was around to patrol the boy and the dog, I didn't worry.

Until I left to go grocery shopping for my mom. She and my sister's mother in law were busy making food for the party that night couldn't intervene soon enough when Calder tried to shove the dog off the couch. Luckily for him, Jack only caught a mouthful of hair and a tiny bit of scalp on the back of his head, faring much better than either Q or Pickle. (I would link to pictures of them but Keira is apparently unable to label her posts so I can't find them.) Of course by the time I got home from the store, Calder was fully emotionally recovered which allowed me to grill him as to why he would shove a dog he had repeatedly been warned against. This is the answer I got. "I wannaded to sit on da couch but Jack was on da couch so I pushed him so he not be on da couch anymore." In a way, that makes perfect sense.

The Big Everything

My children are awesome travelers. Awesome return homers, not so much. Calder has been screaming at me from his bed room for the last 90 minutes because I won't go lay down in bed with him. Something I only do if he has a particularly troubling nightmare. Or if we are at Gramma's and I am dying from allergies and just took three Benedryls and need some frickin' sleep. Not just for regular going to bed times. Ferberizing a three-year old. Is that a thing?

Let's remember better times then, shall we? I was not kidding when I said Calder and Wren are ridiculously good at traveling. On the airplane Calder was content to watch Nick on his own TV (JetBlue, I love you. Call me.) and Wren just chilled like the happiest baby ever that she is. On the way there she slept about half the time and on the way home not at all. She made maybe two half-assed "wah" noises and was immediately calmed with a boob in her mouth. I must admit, not being a total public breastfeeding pro, (Wren hates her cover, likes to rip if off as much as her bother does) I was glad to see my plane was small and there were only two seats on each side of the aisle so I was not in any imminent danger of flashing unsuspecting strangers. This seating arrangement also had the added benefit of allowing me to put Calder on the window and isolating him from any potential annoyees.

Oh good. Now he's yelling that he hates me. Because I won't cuddle with him.

The wait in the airport for my sister and her hubs to show up and help me carry all my shit wasn't even that bad. Wren was still her insanely good-natured self and Calder found two adorable tots in Red Sox shirts with whom to cavort in the baggage claim. He even willingly shared his Spider-man. After picking up our rental car, the five of us had the fastest drive ever from Boston to Westfield and both of my offspring slept a good portion of the way.

I have resorted to just turning the light back on and shutting the door so he doesn't wake the baby up. I can't handle two children hating me.

Our whole trip was simultaneously quite busy and quite boring. I got to watch the Red Sox shit the bed on their home station and attended a second reception for my sister's wedding which you will not even find remotely interesting. Unless you think several kids in ridiculous outfits abusing their photo booth privileges and me eating my weight in carrot cake is interesting. 

Hmm, now it's quiet. This is either good or bad. Pleasebegoodpleasebegoodpleasebegood.

 Did I mention the rain? Yes, the rain. The whole time we were there was a total washout (like the Sox!) save Friday when a bunch of us trooped over to the Big E to eat various things dipped in butter and chocolate. While at the Big E I made what was perhaps my worst parenting decision ever and agreed to buy Calder a giant inflatable hammer. That squeaks. I have already threatened to pop it twice now (tonight) but I did also leverage it into him eating an entire serving of peas yesterday. Turpin's Folly? This remains to be seen. Oh wait, Turpin's real folly was when she accidentally poisoned her son by giving him ice cream with egg in it. Damn you, Ben! Damn you, Jerry! Thankfully, there was a Rite Aide between the fair and our cars so I was able to get him nice and antihistamined relatively soon after trying to kill him. The allergy meds had the added benefit of knocking him right the hell out and he ended up sleeping from 7 to almost 9 the next day. A portion of that with his underwear clad butt riding high after he rolled over while I tried to get him in some more comfortable clothing.

Still quiet. I am afraid to look.

I also used the Big E as an opportunity to meet one of my favorite internet people, Suzanne, over at Bebehblog, and her troop of gingers. Calder and Little E were immediate rickety contraption riding BFFs and she really does have the cutest children ever that are not my own. Suzanne is also very nice and totally agreed with me that when one purchases $1 sunglasses at a fair, one ought to buy ones that are somewhat ridiculous. Like say, making you look like they are recasting The Fly. This was also the first time I have ever met anyone who reads my blog that is not related to me or a meat-life friend. I am super glad she turned out to be awesome and not a serial killer or a baby-napping weirdo. I think this makes me a real blogger now. Where's all my free stuff?

This is too good to be true. He doesn't usually cave this quickly.

The best part of our trip was meeting my newest nephew, Logan, AKA Wolverine von Purplehands. He is SO SMALL. Even though it was only three months ago, I find it difficult to believe that Wren was ever that teeny. And what did she think of her cousin? Hard to tell since she's considerably pre-verbal but her first instincts were to try and eat him. I don't blame her. He IS eminently nommable. Other things that Wren wanted to eat: EVERYTHING, so I ended up buying a jar of carrot baby food for her and maybe let her chew on a bread crust while I tried to eat an enormous prime rib. But I digress. Logan may be even more pleasant to be around than Wren. I think I only heard him cry twice and my S-i-L admitted that sometimes she wakes him up at night to feed him otherwise he'll sleep through. I think I almost slapped her right then. Kristin is pretty committed to the whole cloth diapering thing and I admire that but the sheer amount of fluffy butt on him was hilarity itself. He looked like an insect: round head, small torso and GIANT ABDOMEN. All she needs is a pair of deely bobbers and she's got an instant Halloween costume for him.

Dammit. I caved and checked. He's still awake, wrapped in his sleeping bag on the floor and sniffling into his blankie like the most pathetic caterpillar ever.

Oh hey, know what's really weird? Your father referring to your chest as "the milk store". As in, "Looks like Wren wants to go shopping at the milk store right now." You know what's even weirder than that? Your brother-in-law thinking that milk store is soooo hilarious that it must be used for the rest. of. the. trip. And even weirder still? Having a conversation with your dad that ends up with you holding your hands over your ears and singing the "I'm not Listening to You" song. There are some things that you just cannot unhear so it's best to take preventative measures. Any time I hear my father utter the phrase "That junk's still being used", I am going to end up with ear wax on my fingers and going LALALALALALA until my throat bleeds. And these people wonder why we don't visit more.

Wordless Wednesday: Carrots!