Leavin' on a Jet Plane

Our plane takes off at 10:40 tomorrow morning. I've been excited for well over a month, but now that it's actually tomorrow I'm kind of freaking out. There are the obvious plane crash worries as well as my extreme fear of forgetting something important (which caused me to [drastically] overpack). On top of all that, I'm worried about Mason. Worried to the point where I'm over thinking everything. I don't like the idea of taking him out of his element, getting rid of his routine and normalcy, and throwing him into an unfamiliar environment without even asking if that's okay with him. I mean, I did ask, but he didn't answer.

So Mase and I went out for the afternoon with Aimee and Madelynn, because even though I had a gazillion things to do around here and had barely started packing, I really needed to relax a little. It was a pretty usual afternoon out - we walked around the mall and ate lunch while the babies threw food on the floor and were gazed at adoringly by strangers. Later, Aimee and I tried on dresses while Mase and Mads turned the dressing room into their own little playground. Here I am, in a panic because I think he won't like California but the little bugger can have the time of his life in a dressing room. I really shouldn't worry so much.

My dad was here when we got back from our shopping excursion. He brought hoagies, gave me a hundred bucks to buy something nice on vacation, and entertained Mason while I did this:



I'm leaving my computer behind, but I'm taking a notebook so I can journal the old fashioned way and I'll type them all up when we get home. Be back next Thursday!

Independent Dependant

Lately, Mason's been struggling with all his new-found independence. He crawls like an old pro, he barely has to hold on when he stands up, and he started cruising around the furniture a couple days ago. I'd bet money that he'll learn to walk in California this week. It's all just happening so fast now. I mean, he's going to walk. On his own feet. He's going to be able to get from place to place by himself and then what the heck will he need me for?

Still though, in the midst of all his developments, Mason's been clinging to me. He always has, but now it's like he's scared I'll disappear forever if he can't see me for thirty seconds. He follows me around all day saying "mamamama" and if I try to do something completely absurd like go to the bathroom, he's climbing into my lap. How do you wipe with a baby in your lap? Seriously.

Really though, I don't mind at all. I'm flattered, actually. He loves me, I'm his favorite person ever, and believe me, I feel the same way about him. It's just that when I try to get the little bugger to hold still to, say, change his diaper or cut his nails, he can't wait to get away from me. He flails around, squirming and wiggling, until I finally give up out of exhaustion and let him scamper off, diaperless with jagged fingernails.

I remember growing up, turning thirteen or fourteen and hating it, wanting to turn back time to a time when everything was easy and I could just be a kid again. I also wanted to do whatever I felt like, without having to answer to anyone. Torn. I bet that's how Mason feels.

Questions

1. Is it possible to shove a weeks worth of stuff for three people into two suitcases and be fully prepared for all possible weather/events/situations that should arise? If so, how?

2. What makes mail/toilet paper/paper towels/notebook pages so delicious? If paper products are really that great, why can't you order them off the children's menu at Applebees? Why do they even bother putting a burger in the Happy Meal, when you could just eat the bag instead?

3. Why does naptime inevitably end the moment I get up the motivation to start cleaning the kitchen?

4. Why - with just four days until we fly out to California - do I have to constantly be hearing about/reading about plane crash fatalities?

5. How in the heck do you keep a baby from playing in the toilet?

Lunch Thief

Yesterday afternoon, just as I was contemplating what to make Mason to eat, George made himself some lunch - fish sticks and pierogies. As he took it to the couch and started to eat, Mase slowly made his approach and watched.


As soon as George gave him a bite, it was all over.



He's never had either before; I couldn't believe he liked fish, but he did. Mason ate the inside of three fish sticks and the potato/cheese filling out of the pierogies. I didn't even have to make lunch.

And George? Well, George ate mostly breading and some empty pierogie shells. That's love right there.

Babies and Bookshelves

Some people have a million DVDs. Others have a giant, superfluous CD collection. Me? I have tons of books; way too many for my tiny bookcase. I'm in the market for a new one, and I've been eyeing the perfect one at Target for a long time now. It matches my furniture - wooden with a dark finish - and it's huge. Six shelves, I think, which would give me plenty of room. I wouldn't have to have two rows of books on each shelf, one behind the other, like I do now. Well, like I did. When Mason started crawling, I had to get rid of all the books on the bottom shelf. Soon, the middle shelf of books had to go too and all of them were shoved under the bed with the dust bunnies. And now?

Now he's practically climbing the thing to get to that top shelf of my precious books. So what's an English major to do? Even if I get my fancy new six-shelf bookcase I'll have to fill the three bottom shelves with Mason's toys and then I'll be back to having three shelves again which still won't be big enough. Ugh.

Oh well. Someday I'll be able to move Faulkner and Hemingway and Shakespeare back out into the livingroom and Mason will appreciate them, rather than eating them. Someday...

Ten

Ten months. They've been, by far, the fastest ten months of my life. I didn't even realize it was possible for time to pass this quickly.

All Washed Up

Not very long ago, Mason used to lay down in the bathtub. Ah, those were the days when bathtime was easy. Now, he crawls around the tub, narrowly missing the sharp metal edge of the faucet with his delicate little head. He pulls all the shampoo bottles off their shelves, stands up on the edge of the bathtub, and hits the little knob that drains the water. When I try to wash his hair, he bobs all over the place... and ends up looking like this:


Good thing he doesn't mind the water in his face half as much as he minds me trying to hold him down.

Swing Life Away

Aimee and I had every intention of taking Mason and Madelynn to a super-fun sounding park for babies we heard about today, but Mads was taking a long nap, so Mase and I took some pictures of ourselves and waited patiently.


By the time they got here it was getting late so we just went to the park down the road instead. Turns out, it was a little too cold to be at the park anyway. We were only there for ten minutes before we realized both of the babies' teeth were chattering. Regardless, they managed to have some fun doing one of the cutest things I've ever seen in my life. Seriously.

Ready?

Those babies love each other.

No Words, Just Love

Up

I swear Mason started saying "up" yesterday. At first I thought he meant "pick me up".





Eight million times a day, Mason empties out the bottom two drawers of his dresser. He trashes his changing table. He destroys bathroom cupboards and rolls of toilet paper and stacks of mail. And I follow around behind him, putting everything back where it belongs.

So on second thought, I'm guessing "up" means "gosh, mom, would you clean up this mess".

What Happens When We Go Diaperless

Once again, I find myself baffled by the fact that they would charge us a five hundred dollar deposit if we wanted to have a pet in this apartment (yes, even a fish), yet they charge no fee at all if you have a baby.

Do they not think that babies pee on carpets?

Play Time

I've been out maybe three times since Mason's been alive, and every time I decide to venture out I'm reminded exactly why I don't drink anymore. Redbull and vodkas always sound like a great idea, until seven the next morning when I remember that it's not possible for me to lay in bed until noon. It's not even possible for me to lay in bed until seven fifteen.

Fun times though.

Somehow (being the wonderful mommies that we are) Aimee and I still managed to take Mase and Mads to the park this afternoon. And, not surprisingly, more fun times.

Kiss Me, I'm Crazy

My grandma is Irish, which makes me 1/4 Irish, which makes Mason 1/8 Irish (I think) so we started off the day with the typical breakfast of Ireland:


Yep, green yogurt. I don't know, it sounded like a good idea at seven thirty this morning.

I've been trying all day to get a cute, smiley picture of him in his "Kiss me, I'm Irish" shirt so I can send it to my grandma. Unfortunately, Mason's too busy doing this:

And (oh my gosh!) this:

And whatever he's doing here:

Oh well. Happy St. Patrick's Day! ♣

Sunshine Therapy

After another long, long morning and afternoon without a single second of naptime, I decided to take Mason out in all his grumpy glory (and me in mine) for a walk. I've been wanting to push Mase on the swings since the moment he exited the womb, and I figured today was as good a day as any for his first trip to the park.

When we got home, Mason napped.

I'd love to be able to say that it was because of our hour long walk around the neighborhood, the sun, and the fresh air, but truthfully I know it was because George came home from work and (like he always does) got Mason to sleep. I'd love to know how he does it. Oh well, at least the sunshine made me feel better.

Anti-Finger Food

A few days ago I gave Mason shredded up cheddar cheese. He loves toasted cheese and he likes feeding himself toast and Cheerios and things, so I figured he'd like the shredded cheddar and he'd feed it to himself. I was right - he did. Since he liked that so much, I thought maybe he was ready for me to make him a big kid lunch. So the next day, I did.

I did the cheese again, as well as some turkey and peas. At first, it looked like it might turn out okay.

Then he waved to me,

threw everything on the floor,


and freaked out.

Since, of course, I'll do anything to make him happy, I got out the food processor and Mason had pea puree for lunch.

Gross.

Bunnyphobia

Mason's nine month photoshoot was today. We were lucky enough to be able to have them done with real baby bunnies and chicks for springtime. Real lucky.. or so I thought. Turns out, Mason's terrified of bunnies. And those cute little baby chicks... ugh. They were peeping all over the places and scaring Mason, so Mason decided he had to scream and scare them back. He had to be bribed with cookies just to stop crying. It was a mess. The photographer must have taken two hundred pictures... and we got five good ones.

I know that's only four; George and I both liked the fifth one the most, so it's being blown up to an 11x16 and we'll have it in a week or so. It was definitely the best one. In it, Mason's not looking at the camera at all, but instead he's staring, terrified and curious, at the ferocious baby-eating bunny in his lap.

I would have made a bet on him loving those silly rabbits.

Mum's the Word

He's said it before, but this time he said it to me and meant it. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't just babbles. It was loud and clear and in context: mama.

His first word. I'm just glad it wasn't dada. Or poop.

My dad, Kim, and Nichole came to visit us last night. I never noticed it before, but Daddy and Mason share many similar expressions:





Mason was happy playing with everyone the whole time they were here. But it was funny: he'd be completely engrossed in whatever it was that they were doing when I'd see him peek over his shoulder at me. The next thing I knew, he was crawling into my lap for a quick hug and some cuddles before making his way back over to his grandpa.

His first word makes complete sense. That kid loves his mama.