Rules of the Road

I don many hats nowadays...Maid, Chef (I use that title very loosely), Boo-Boo-Kisser...and Taxi Driver, just to name a few. Ben is in the car a lot with me, and I have to say that it has tamed the road-rager in me...for the most part. I've let a few honks slip--but never an f-bomb--and Ben inquisitively asks why I did that, so I'm forced to tell the truth: "Because that silly man made a bad choice and went through a red light." Recently, he's caught on that these types of traffic violations are dangerous--and he even thinks that the police should somehow be involved. At first I was impressed with his good-citizen attitude on the road, but now...well, it seems like we have a little goody-two-shoes on our hands...and in our backseat.

Last Friday night, we headed out to pick up Ben's birthday cake before his Monkey Joe's party the next morning. We were on our way back home after the quick errand, and since I haven't been feeling well, I have been behind the wheel when we take family car-rides--yes, I still get carsick in the front seat.

We came upon a turn, and the light was greenish-turning-yellow, so of course I didn't stop. Heck, this is Florida--it could have been yellowish-already-red and "people" still go. I turned through the yellow light and heard a shocked little *gasp* coming from the backseat.

"Mommy!" Ben said, with his eyes wider than headlights. "That light was not green!"

I explained to him that I knew that, but that the yellow light just meant that there was a little bit of time before it turned red--I fought the urge to bestow my 'green-means-go-but-yellow-means-go-faster' motto upon his impressionable mind.

Apparently, that wasn't a satisfying explanation. "Mommy, we need to call the police."

Are you kidding me, kid? (Brad's stifling laughter at this point, not helping whatsoever in the situation.) I just looked at him in the rearview mirror and told him that since it wasn't an emergency, we didn't need to bother the police.

"Oh," he said. "Well, that was a bad choice."

He even reminded both me and Brad the next day that I had driven through that yellow light.

"Memember when you went through that yellow light, Mommy? That was a not good choice."

Yes, I memember. I just hope he memembers all this when he starts taking drivers' ed...

Bearing Gifts...

Well, we're in the homestretch, folks! Entering Week #36 meant entering full-on nesting mode. Even Ben seems to have caught the gotta-get-ready-for-baby bug...and I think it's the cutest thing ever.

We were really conscious about how Ben would react to all the changes going on. After moving him into his new room and repainting his old room and filling it up with new girly things, we fully expected there to be a relapse on his part...and luckily, there wasn't much of one. Sure, he took one look at the baby's new pink shag rug and said, with arms crossed, "I wanna be a girl!" Other than that, it's been OK...but there have been sweet moments that have blown me--and my hormonal emotions--out of the water.

The first occurred when I took Ben with me to get some pre-fall Christmas outlet shopping done--yes, this was back in August. Anyway, there we were in BabyGap and Ben asked to get out of the stroller. (Sidenote: Yes, it might seem a little strange that he's still riding in a stroller, but a) I use it more as a cart for pushing all my bags and b) sometimes you just gotta resort to buckling the kid into the cage on wheels.) Anyway, back to the story...he asked to get out. He walks away for a little bit and comes back with an adorable pair of gray and pink baby yoga pants! He proudly holds them up and asks, "Mommy? Can we get these for Baby Woosie?" ?!?! Are you kidding me with this cuteness?? YES! Of course we can!! But wait...there's more. He holds up the other hand in which he has the matching hoodie. [Insert AWHH! here.] He was so proud of himself...and so was I.

The next occurrence took place this past Sunday. I haven't been feeling extremely well--hello--and I just couldn't make it up and at 'em for the 9am mass. So, Brad took Ben and when they got home, Ben had a gift bag from one of my new favorite places: Tugboat and the Bird. (An adorable little children's boutique that Brad wishes had never moved onto Park Ave.) Ben runs over to the couch where I was beached--I mean, laying--and says "Mommy! We got Woosie a present!!" He rips out the tissue paper and pulls out this:

Pinky the Rat Poodle Thing. It is so soft...but man, is it ugly. Brad said "I tried to talk him out of it..." I started crying--literally bawling. Ben looked at me like What is your problem, lady? and I'm pretty sure that Brad knew to chalk it up to the hormones. I just told him that I was crying because I was so happy...and he gave me a hug.

I wasn't shedding tears because I'm afraid that this stuffed pink creature could give our newborn nightmares, of course, but because Ben is genuinely excited about having Baby Woosie around. And if he chooses to show this excitement by picking out weird-looking plush poodles, then bring on a litter of 'em.

It's Football Time!

It's that time of year again...when the season is starting to change (although living in Florida, the only real indication that Fall is coming is that Starbucks starts serving their Pumpkin Spice Latte) and faithful fans everywhere break out their alma mater gear every Saturday. It also brings the start of another annual tradition--the EDSA College Football Pool. Brad's office put together this friendly little competition years ago, and every week I look forward to B-Huff's e-mail with the week's spreads. I'm never very good--because I "bet with my heart" and tend to have an affection towards teams that suck and/or have people write their papers for them--but anyone will tell you that watching football (NFL or NCAA) is more interesting when you have a little $omething extra riding on the final outcome of the game.

This year, Brad and I decided that we would throw Ben into the pool--not literally...we don't particularly want to traumatize our child. Anyway, Ben gets his own picks this season. Now, I'm sure you're scratching your head about this one--the kid can't read, much less master an Excel spreadsheet, so how the heck is this gonna work? Fear not--have you forgotten the creativity of the Colletts?

Enter our own little version of the Mascot Challenge. (I'm actually kind of proud of this one.) I have printed out flashcards of the mascot for each school that the football pool will be featuring. Last night, we had our first pick session with Ben. And it went just swimmingly.

For each match-up, I held a mascot in each hand and told him what they were--c'mon, the Toledo Torpedos needed a little explanation. Then, he picked the one he thought would win/had the best costume. Since there are about 30 games that we pick, we were bound to get some funny moments out of this process...and here they are:

1 - Much to Brad's SEC-biased chagrin, Ben picked South Carolina...The Rooster won him over, and Granny and Carl will be proud.

2 - I really wanted this to be all about him, so I fought the urge to sway his vote...especially when it came to the choice between the Blue Devil and the Deamon Deacon...I can't believe he picked Dook.

3 - There were a few teams that were a sure bet with him: ECU Pirate, Western Kentucky's Big Red, USC's Trojan (he's got a sword!) and Syracuse's Orange Otto...who will be known as "Juice Man" from here on out.

4 - I was particularly concerned that Ben would pick against our beloved Vols this week...they're playing Oregon, and well, take a look at who Smokey was up against and tell me what Disney-loving kid is going to NOT pick this one...

Much to my surprise--and Brad's--Ben saw Smokey and said "I have that one! I pick Smokey!" I thought Brad would shed a tear of pride in that moment...

All in all, Ben picked a lot of underdogs this week. But, on any given Saturday in the land of collegiate pigskin, anything can happen...including a funny looking guy with a sword pulling the upset over a weird looking badger. We'll see...results will be in on Monday, so in the meantime...may the best costume win!

Fashionista In Utero

Finding out that we are having a girl was such an amazingly happy moment for me and Brad...but I'm pretty sure that 2 seconds later, Brad's mind wandered and he could envision shopping bags and shopping sprees. (I mean, more than there are usually.) He didn't know how good he had it when there was only one girl in the household to worry about...

I assumed that the second we got the green light on pink stuff, I would be hightailing it to insert-retail-establishment-here to start stocking up on all things pink and frilly. Boy, was I wrong.

The first disappointing experience was at the outlet mall in North Myrtle Beach. I figured that a shopping trip with my sisters would lead to a squeal-fest of cuteness and bags full of stuff. Alas, for some reason, I wasn't feeling it. I took one look a frilly bathing suit with a tutu that looked too small for a Barbie doll and--gasp--was not overwhelmed by feelings of "Eeeeee!" What was wrong with me?! I love to shop. I love pink. I have a reason now to buy cutesy pink things. WHY AM I NOT LINING UP AT THE REGISTER WITH PILES OF CLOTHES ON MY ARM?!? I left with a couple half-hearted purchases. Sigh.

Enter Retail Meltdown #2. I decided to take advantage of the tax-free weekend and head over to Macy's last weekend. Standing among racks of cute little baby clothes, I could feel the familiar rush of "step away from the stuff" and again was confused. I tried to rethink my approach to focus my feelings of being overwhelmed: "She can totally wear this on the plane over Christmas" and "She will grow into this dress and it's a great deal" were thoughts (albeit crazy ones) that crossed my mind and lead me to finding a few things.

As I was leaving the store, I called Ali for a little moral support. In the midst of her "It's OK" peptalk, I wandered into BabyGap. And something clicked...and kicked--literally, I could feel her moving around in there as if to say "This. This is where we need to be." Could my unborn baby know that BabyGap was where I worked for 5 years in high school and college? Could she possibly already have the same taste that I do?? Oh, the joy of the idea of my first mommy-daughter bonding moment.

Then...I saw the outfit that would do me/us in...

Minus the denim jacket and plus an ADORABLE pair of hot pink bow shoes. (Yes, a newborn needs a cute pair of shoes...don't even get me started on the miniature pink Uggs that I'm eyeing.) I held my head a little higher and my heart was a little lighter this trip to the register. See? I thought to myself. You can do this!

I think that it's just different this time around. With Ben, we didn't know if we would be going with blue or pink, so we just went with neither--I didn't have to do any pre-shopping for clothes, so this is all new to me. It's strange to buy clothes and pick out things for someone who's not even here yet...but I'm dealing with it.

So, I think I'm over whatever funk I was in.

Sorry, Brad. ;-)

Live and Learn

When you're a parent, packing for any kind of vacation/trip can seem like a daunting task. No matter how many lists I put together, how far in advance I start laying things out, how many run-throughs I do on the day we're leaving, I'd bet money that we will get 2 blocks away and realize that I've left something behind. It makes me wonder...I'm pretty sure Brad questions my sanity. Having said that, there are a few redeeming moments in parenthood. Times where a sliver of insight turns out to be the best thing possible.

Case in point: We headed out to Sanibel Island this past weekend, a place we've been to many times. We love it there--calm, quiet, peaceful...and seashells as far as the eye can see. For just a quick weekend trip, we threw some clothes in the suitcase and some sunscreen in the beach bag. For whatever reason, I thought to grab Ben's inner tube--the one he uses for swimming in the pool. I stood in the living room, holding the inner tube, knowing full well that we would not be near a swimming pool at all during the trip...but something--call it maternal instinct, a mother's intuition--told me to pack it anyway.

Fast forward 12 hours and we're in coastal paradise, unloading our chairs/umbrella/buckets...and the inner tube. Brad and Ben set off to build a sand castle and I assumed my normal Sanibel-position...hunched over, looking for shells. (Uh, sidenote--this is NOT an easy task when you're in your third trimester. Just sayin'.) About 30 minutes later, the boys were hot and wanted to hop into the water to cool off. So, I asked Ben if he wanted to try and wear his tube. I gave him 5 minutes, tops, with keeping that thing on. Not that it's uncomfortable, but we weren't in a pool--it was the ocean. Again...fast forward about an hour and a half...

...the kid was in heaven. He swam, came back on shore, turned around and went right back out. In total, he (and Brad) probably spent a good 2-1/2 hours in the ocean that afternoon. (I, of course, assumed another position on the shore...wildlife watchdog--I was convinced that if I didn't keep an eye out, the 2 loves of my life would be eaten by a shark...but that's another blog post entirely.)

Anyway, I still don't know what made me grab that inner tube before leaving our house and hitting the road...but my point is this: I am that much wiser for the next trip.

Every once in a while, amidst the frazzled craziness of being a road-tripping parent, you have a shining moment where you feel like the most brilliant--borderline psychic, even--genius on the planet...a moment where you think to yourself, "hey--I'm not such an idiot after all."

And then you realize that you left your flat iron on and you have to turn around anyway.

Well that's just silly...

I can now say that I know what my mom was thinking when my sister and I came home BEGGING for slap bracelets...

"WTF is the big deal?" (Although I'm pretty sure that 'WTF' wasn't a popular acronym back in the 80s and I'm DEFINITELY sure my mom has never thought the 'F'.)

Anyway...back to my point. A fad is a fad is a fad...and when it comes to kiddie fads, they normally don't make any sense. From the pet rock to the Furby to this past year's Zhu Zhu pets, who really knows why certain things become the obsession of millions of children everywhere?

And we have officially been invaded by Silly Bandz.

Ben first brought one home from school--I think it was an orange goat-looking rubber band--and I honestly had no idea what it was. Then began the fixation on rubber bands. I thought he was talking about regular rubber bands, but oh no--that's not what he wanted. So, I picked up a box of colored rubber bands. Fail...again.

Then came the note from the teachers at school: "Please leave all silly bands at home--they are a distraction to students. Thanks!"

What ARE these silly bands?! I started seeing signs--at cash registers and then on the marquee in front of Walgreen's: "WE HAVE SILLY BANDZ!!!" I swear they must have used up all the exclamation points for this announcement. The local toy store is even holding a Silly Bandz trading event. I'm pretty sure it will be packed.

I still don't really understand the fascination...but I picked up a pack of them for Ben. When I gave them to him in the car, congratulating him on having several days at school with "good choices", his face lit up...see above. He even slept with all 12 of them on his wrist that night.

I'm sure this is just the first of many fads I will have to endure as a consumer-parent...and I'm sure it won't be the last time I shake my head, mutter "I don't understand why you want this" under my breath, and just pay the lady behind the counter.

Squirmy Wormies

Well, I think I officially had my "Oh my gosh I'm the mother of a little boy and that can be really gross sometimes" moment the other day after picking Ben up at school...

He proudly opened his lunchbox to show me what he and a classmate, Claire had discovered under the picnic table after lunch that day...

Worms.

I quickly recoiled, but thought that I shouldn't visibly overreact because I don't want him to be as afraid of creepy crawlies as I am--he's a boy, after all! He should be coming home with dirty fingernails and scrapes from playing in the dirt...right?

So, I displayed a jaw-clenched grin and said, through my gritted teeth, "That's great, bud! Uh...what should we do with them?"

"I want to take them home and feed them!" Duh.

I quickly closed the lunchbag flap and instructed him to keep it that way--the last thing I, or any other driver in Orlando, needed was me behind the wheel with worms crawling all over the inside of my immaculately clean car. ;-)

After the short trip home, Ben carried his new pet carrier into the house and we headed out to the backyard. I grabbed a jar--you know, one of those old-timey jam jars that have the metal lid with the other metal ring that screws in over it? (What? I'm from North Carolina--of course I have jars. What else would I drink my moonshine out of?)

We filled up the jar with some potting soil and I grabbed some saran wrap so we could close these critters in but still give them an oxygen supply. Ben dug down in his lunchbag and pulled out a handful of worms...and they weren't moving. :-(

"Uh...babe--I don't know if they made it..."

"Sure they did, Mommy!" How, I ask you, could I crush his dream of keeping these as pets? We've already crushed his dream of having a dog for now--he's convinced he's getting a puppy instead of a new brother or sister...

So, I just put on my best Mommy-will-fix-everything smile and said, "Well, let's just poke some holes in the top of the plastic wrap and I'm sure they'll be fine." Ben took the jar inside the house, and we got him ready for bed.

The next morning, he had forgotten about them and we headed off to school. After getting home, he quickly ran over to the jar and looked at them, puzzled.

"Mommy! They're growing hair!"

For the first time, I took a good look at our new "housepets"...

They were moldy spaghetti noodles.

They'll be "moving" to the compost pile tonight...but the real question is this--what kid brings noodles to school for lunch??

On the road again...

Anyone who knows us can tell you this: we like to travel. It's who we are. Our families are in NC and Ohio, so most of our vacation time is spent heading to either the state that was first in flight or the other state that claims to be the birthplace of aviation. ;-) Although we normally fly, it sometimes works out better to just hop in the car and make the 8+ hour trek to the Tar Heel state. This past weekend was Ashley's graduation from UNCC, so Friday afternoon, we loaded up the Jetta and hit the open road.

Now, in days past, I could easily make the drive in 8 hours flat, with one quick stop to fill up on diesel fuel and to get some snacks. After Brad came into the picture, it became a struggle to keep up with that time--I mean, seriously? Who needs to stop twice in 8 hours to pee?!? Well, enter a potty-trained 3-year old who luuuuuuvs to drink water. 8 hours behind the wheel and we're still in freakin' South Carolina. This kid is really cramping my driving style.

In all sincerity, we are truly lucky that Ben is as good in the car as he is. He doesn't have to have the DVD player on--he would mostly prefer to color or just look out the window. And have snacks....with water. So, when we were just north of Columbia, SC, I saw the crotch-grab and heard those dreaded words..."Mommy--I have to pee pee." (Am I a horrible mother for rolling my eyes and asking him if he's serious? We're already making terrible time here...)

Next exit on the right, there was one lonely Exxon station in the midst of gravel and rows of corn. Brad took him in with the preemptive pep talk about only going in there to use the bathroom and no, there will be no purchase of candy, toys, etc. As I was sitting in the driver's seat, I saw Brad's head in the window as he approached the door...and no Ben in sight. Come to find out, he was distracted by the NASCAR keychains--who wouldn't be? Brad reminded him that we were only there to pee...but then...there is was.

THE Shooter Gun Jelly Beans.

Ben calls every gun a "shooter gun" and apparently this was a toy gun with jelly beans inside. I didn't see it with my own eyes, but when Brad finally dragged Ben away from it, kicking and screaming, through tears and sobs, Ben told me it was a Shooter Gun Jelly Beans and you could literally shoot jelly beans into your mouth. Awesome.

We finally got him settled down and arrived safely in NC at my parents for Ashley's graduation weekend. But we hadn't heard the last of the SGJB. I saw the perfect opportunity for a bribe--I mean, reward for good behavior...Ben had to sit through Ashley's graduation ceremony and if he was a good listener for the rest of the weekend, we would stop to get the SGJB on the way back to Florida.

The end of our trip rolled around, and by then, the whole family had heard about this amazing gun that shoots candy into your mouth. We packed the car, said our goodbyes, and headed south back to the Sunshine State.

I thought I remembered which exit it was. Through my highly-sharpened detective skills, I recalled that we stopped right before a rest area south of Charlotte--I remembered this because I had thought to myself "if you had just waited a few more miles, there would have been a toy-free rest area for us to use"...

Well, we were coming up on an exit, and I just knew it was the one. BUT...I had 2 tractor trailers to my right and 2 sleeping boys in the backseat. I only had a few seconds to deliberate...and I kept on driving. I quickly regretted my decision, got hot and nervous...and looked for a way to make a U-turn to go back. Alas, there wasn't one.

As soon as Ben woke up, he had to use the bathroom. Perfect--we'll stop and I'm sure they have some crappy--I mean, AMAZING--toys with candy. Thumbs down. But they did have chips. Success...kind of.

Ben then enlightened us on exactly what we were questing for and where we could find it...the SGJB could be found at, and I quote, "the pee pee store." I guess that all those times we stopped at gas stations to "go pee pee" have taken their toll on him...and he now associates gas stations with urination. So, they are now Pee Pee Stores and you can buy Shooter Gun Jelly Beans there.

We regained our composure after laughing hysterically--WITH him, not AT him--and got back on 95. Next stop? Dinner. Brad ran in to the Pee Pee Store while we went through the conjoined drive-thru. Thumbs down.

One last chance...we were just south of Jacksonville and Ben had to make one last pit stop. At this point, it had become my maternal mission to find this damn SGJB. We ran in to the gas station, Ben was holding himself and crossing his legs because he was about to wet his pants...but, by God, we were going to see if they had it. And...they did!! Granted, it wasn't the same exact one he saw a few days earlier--this one shoots bubbles and has gumballs, and Brad swears it's way cooler--but who gives a crap?! We found it!!



Ben was happy and all was right with the road-tripping world...we didn't have to stop at any more Pee Pee Stores and we made it home...after 9 hours and 23 minutes.

May the 4th be with you...

In honor of the unofficial holiday of George Lucas fans everywhere, I have decided to dedicate this post to the one...the only...Star Wars empire.

How, you may ask, can I possibly have a Star Wars post on a "Mommy Blog"? Here's how.



Ben is already obsessed with Star Wars. So much so that he wants a wipe sader. (I'll give you a second to translate on your own.) A green wipe sader.

I don't quite understand how some things are just inherently part of a boy's little world--turning an ordinary stick into a gun, gravitating towards a muddy puddle in an otherwise clean driveway, and automatically knowing that R2D2 says "beep boop" and that Darth Vader has a red light saber--sorry, wipe sader.

It just baffles me...but it makes Brad soooo proud.

In the Eye of the Beholder

By now, you all know that Ben finds a direct correlation between princesses and dresses...and I have to admit that I love that even in a maternity dress he still thinks I'm beautiful...well, sometimes he does.

We were watching TV last Saturday morning (shocker) while Brad was out playing golf, and a commercial for Playtex 18-hour bras came on. Ben was walking towards his train table in the next room when he stopped to stare at the TV [insert brake-screeching halt here]. I paused, skeptically waiting to see how/if he would react to the scantily clad, well-endowed woman on the screen. And he did.

"Ooo, Mommy--I like that."

Uh...how to react how to react what to say what to say...?

"Uh...bud? What do you like about...it?"

He simply said, "She's beautiful."

Well, this just blows the theory that only princesses in dresses are beautiful, but whatever. That was all that was said, so I figured we were finished with that semi-awkward and fully-hilarious parent/exploratory-child interaction.

And then a Diurex commercial came on. You know which one I'm talking about? There is a blond woman, during that 'unfortunate time of the month' who can miraculously fit into her skinny jeans, thanks to the anti-water weight pills...you're amazing Diurex!

"Ooo, Mommy--I like her." (You knew it was coming)

So, I asked again--now incredibly curious as to my son's standard of beauty--I mean, this lady had her clothes on, so what made her so pretty?

"She's beautiful."

I then began to question my own beauty, so I went out on a limb, assuming I knew the sweet answer.

"Hey, bud--is Mommy beautiful?"

He took one look at my Piggly Wiggly t-shirt and pink Soffe shorts and gave me the negative headshake. Well, crap.

But fear not, fair readers. We were getting ready to go to the bank later that morning so I grabbed a stretchy-waisted skirt and was getting ready to change into a t-shirt that didn't have dried chocolate ice cream on it and Ben saw me in my room...and gave me these priceless words of encouragement, complete with a thumbs-up.

"You're almost beautiful, Mommy!"

Almost only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes, kid. Thanks for nothin'.

My son, the Pick Pocket

I'm apologizing in advance if you are the owner of any of these items. If you are, just let me know and I will gladly return them to their rightful owners.



Having said that, I find it quite amusing that Ben has accumulated this little collection. Note: I am not, in any way, shape or form, encouraging thievery...nor am I making excuses for my child...but I really don't think he's necessarily stealing these things. He's simply finding them...and placing them safely in his pocket until he gets home rather than turning them over to the proper authorities.

I first noticed this little "problem" when I would find tiny plastic beads...he calls them "gold" and is quite proud of his shiny little treasures. It didn't take long to figure out that these belonged to some sort of craft lesson at school. (Again, Ms. Cathy and Ms. Monique...I apologize and will be returning them to you immediately.) I thought that maybe he was just finding them and pocketing them...but then came the hair accessories.

The first barrette was one of those little plastic ones that look like a bow. (It's not pictured above--Ben probably swiped it again.) The second one seems like someone might really miss it--it's obviously a birthday bow, complete with a plastic slice of cake, nice purple ribbon intertwined with another white ribbon that has now faded but used to say "Happy Birthday!" I feel really bad about this one, so if you or someone you know is missing this bow, speak up.

Then there's the shiny silver pencil. I mean, looking at it, I can see how it would be hard to resist. And the tiny tea kettle? Who wouldn't want one of those?

I have to give my son props for recognizing the value in a Carolina blue, plastic wristband...although I was unaware that Friendship Week needed its own mass-produced accessories...regardless, he picked this one up at a playground, too, along with a random screw...I'm just hoping that screw wasn't holding a swingset together...

The latest addition to the stash is a random earring that Ben found on the playground with Ms. Monique. He asked me why I haven't worn it yet. I didn't really have the heart to tell him that I just didn't want some random person's ear fungus...so I made the mistake of telling him that I couldn't wear just one earring--I needed the pair...duh. (As soon as I said it, I realized that his mission now will be to find me another earring to wear with it. Ladies, protect your earlobes...)

So, while I never know what Ben will come home with in his little pockets, I have to be thankful that at least it's not as bad as Brad leaving his permanent markers in his pockets--I'd rather find a plastic green bead in the bottom of the washer because that won't ruin my favorite pair of Nike Dri Fit golf shorts...

The Secret's Out!

Well, now that I don't have to keep being preggers a secret anymore...I can post a few things that I have been documenting during these past 12 weeks...

* I stand by my statement that the MAN who coined the phrase "morning sickness" should be shot. A coworker of mine suggested that we've had it all wrong--it's supposed to be "mourning sickness." Makes a little more sense.

* I don't know how I got through my first pregnancy without an iPhone. Seriously. The "What to Expect" app is fan-flippin-tastic. It gives me day-to-day updates on what fruit my little baby is closest to in size and also helpful tidbits of info.

* Things I have been craving/able to keep down: bean burritos, char-grilled cheeseburgers, chicken noodle soup, freeze pops and ice cream. Oh, and pickles. And Cadbury caramel eggs.

* I already have a feeling that Little Bean is a girl. (Sidenote shout-out to Ali for the nickname. Holla!) Call me crazy, but I am just throwing out my prediction now. I almost went out on a limb and ordered nursery bedding that is soooo not gender-neutral. But I fought the urge.

* I really want to find out the sex of the baby this time. Brad? Not so much. Still working on this one...

* Ben is absolutely adorable already--he talks to the baby, says he hopes it feels better and that he wants it to "come out soon." Then he gets frustrated that it won't talk back to him.

* Awesome places where I have thrown up: in my car, in the front yard, at work, in a beautiful cabin in Georgia. ;-) Brad takes the prize for throwing up on the actual hiking trail in Georgia...I think he just wanted to show me up.

* I am already in maternity clothes. All you mommies out there who have had more than one little bambino were absolutely right--you show soooo much faster with the second one...and I am welcoming my spandex-waisted pants whole-heartedly.

And last, but not least...

* We are so freakin' excited. :D

Stay tuned!

Hail to the Chief

Outside of Ben's classroom, there is a dry-erase board on which Ms. Cathy and Ms. Monique post things that parents need to know. There's a schedule for when they have P.E., what day show-and-tell will be and then there's usually a paragraph letting parents know what the kids did that day.

In their studies about the continents and their respective countries, they have moved on from Asia and are now discussing Africa and its 54 countries. (I think that's right--I'm even learning stuff from the board.) I wish I had been there to witness this firsthand...

Today, we learned more about Africa. When asking the children if they knew where Morocco was, one student said, "In the White House!" Apparently, our President's name is Morocco Bama.

Baby Got Back

"Mommy--Aiden said 'poopy butt'...but I don't say 'poopy butt' because that's not a nice word."

Nice try, kid--you just said it twice.

We have reached the stage where Ben is exploring his verbal boundaries and expanding his vocabulary...and it's amazing some of the things our little parrot has picked up on...either at home or on the playground.

"Poopy butt" was the word of the day (insert Pee-Wee's-Playhouse-type screaming here) for quite some time...and every day when I picked him up from school, I would get to hear about how Aiden had said "poopy butt" and how he's not supposed to say "poopy butt" and right, Mommy? isn't "poopy butt" a bad word?

We tried to not really react to it, because all the books and experts say that kids are just looking for some kind of reaction--so, we just tried to subsitute that with "bottom" or "heiny"...and it really has worked...until now.

Ben came home yesterday and announced, with his silly little grin and furrowed brow..."Mommy? You know, you know, you know what Maddox says? He says 'buttocks.'"

Apparently, my kid has become a reformed offender, and now he's the bad-word hall monitor. (Trust me--I can't get away with saying "Oh my gosh!" without a stern reprimanding from Ben..."Uh, Mommy--we don't say 'oh my gosh'...we say 'oh my goodness.'" He's right.)

Uh...the books in all their infinite wisdom don't really tell you what to say when your 3-year old comes home with a very medically technical term for his rearend...so I just had to wing it.

"You know what, Ben? You can just say 'gluteus maximus' if you want to!"

The confused look on his face tells me that we'll just be sticking with "heiny" for now.

En Garde!

Well, he did it! He got his 10th star this morning, and has FINALLY received the coveted pirate sword. (I think the faux leather tassels distracted him from the fact that it doesn't look like the pirate sword from Peter Pan.)

Here's how it went down...I told him last night that I had the sword, ready to give to him, and all he had to do was to stay in his bed until the sun came up. He went to bed, and I thought I would try something different...risky to mess with a sleeping child, I know, but I thought that if I tried to wake him up to use the potty at 11pm, that might reset his sleep pattern and then he would sleep longer. Well, whatever it was...he slept until 5am!

When he came into our room, I reminded him that he was only about 2 hours away from getting the sword. He didn't seem to care--he just wanted to 'nuggle with Daddy...which is incredibly adorable, but I had to remain focused!! No cutie-patootie-ness was going to distract me from the finish line that we were sooooo close to crossing...I wanted him to get that last star more than he did.

So, I pulled out the big guns.

"Ben--do you want to see the sword?"

Well, that perked his interest right up. (I'll leave out the fact that I asked Brad to go out to my car to get the sword and his response was "Are you kidding me?" so I had to throw on my Uggs and head on out to retrieve it from my trunk...again, I'll leave that part out.) When I got back in from the freezing Florida pre-dawn air and showed it to Ben, exclaiming how cool this thing was, his first reaction was "Awh...it's not gold." Of course it's not. I should have known he wanted a gold one. So, I did what any other sleep-deprived, desperate parent would have done--I lied. "Of course it is, Sweetie--you just can't see it because it's dark. And look! It has tassels!"

It took a little more coaxing and promising that he could have the sword for his very own in a few hours and the piling of 6 more blankets on top of him, but he was finally tucked back into his own bed by 5:15, snug as a bug in a rug...and he stayed that way until 7:30!! Woo hoo! He got his last red star (which he complains about not really being red--I guess I grabbed a different red crayon and he thought I had given him a pink star...geez, Mommy...) and the sword is now his to "fight" with.

Great...it's all fun and games until someone pokes an eye out.

The Star Chart Update #1...

...well, I am happy to report that Ben has earned 9 stars! (I'm going to go ahead and let you applaud us/him for a second...go ahead...)

Unfortunately, I could have posted this 5 days ago. That's right--we've been stuck on Star #9 for that long.

ARGHHH!!!

I thought he was getting it--I really did! He was so proud to show Hailee (via webcam) all his stars, and he still totally gets that if he gets to 10 stars, he gets his pirate sword...but he just won't do it.

For the past 4 nights, he has gotten up and doesn't seem to care that he only needs one more measly, hand-drawn star to get the prize he so desires...so I've made an executive decision. Digsby suggested that, perhaps, since right now the actual sword is intangible, Ben might not fully get it. So, I went ahead and bought the pirate sword.

This was no small feat, even at Party City. There were giant swords, swords that glow in the dark, swords that make a LOT of annoying noises, swords that have fake blood on them...but I could not find the one I am pretty sure Ben is imagining. Which I have concluded might look something like this:



So, I chose the one that looked like it could have the least amount of potential to harm him/Kitty/Mommy or break something in our house...and of course there's no picture on the website. Let's just say it doesn't look like this.

Tonight, the plan is to explain to him that the sword will be in his tiny little man hands in the morning...IF he spends the whole night in his own bed.

We'll see how this goes...

The Star Chart

I'm happy to report that we have been paci-free for weeks now...thank you, thank you. We almost suffered a damaging relapse when Ben found the missing blue and orange paci in a basket while Mommy was in Vancouver...but luckily, the Paci Fairy knew that there were some extra Star Wars toys in the closet and lo and behold...crisis averted.

We had about 2 seconds to bask in the glory of this when we as parents were faced with another challenge...the middle-of-the-night awakenings.

For some reason, Ben started this fun little habit of waking up between 1 and 2 am...which would be fine if he would just stay in his room. It was getting to the point where he wouldn't even wake us up as he was crawling over us to get under the covers in our bed...and that was another bad habit we wanted to nip in the bud.

Enter creative parenting technique #2. The patent-pending Star Chart.



I have to completely give Brad credit for this one...I guess he was the one getting kicked in the middle of the night by our little sleepwalker. Here's how it works: every night that Ben sleeps in his bed, he gets a star drawn in one of the boxes. If he makes it through the whole night without an accident, which means that Mommy doesn't have to change his clothes and sheets in the middle of the night, then he gets another star. When all 10 boxes are star-filled, he gets a prize! (When we introduced this concept to him, he quickly announced that he wanted a pirate sword. Valerie said "Well, at least he didn't want a fairy wand." Touché, Val...we consider this a huge success in itself.) Here's how it's working out:

Night #1 - After pumping Ben up about the whole idea with lots of "Star Chart Rah Rah!" pep talks, he was completely ready for the challenge...while we were cautiously optimistic. He woke up, as usual, around 1:15, but when he came to our room, I whispered to him, "If you want a star in the morning, you need to go get back in your bed..." The kid must have been dreaming of that pirate sword because he turned right around and got back into his bed! Woo hoo! Success and 2 purple stars drawn on the chart! (Of course he picked out the color.)

Night #2 - I still consider this a success even though no stars were awarded. I'm not making excuses, but when he has a little bit of a cough, he likes to sleep with a cup of water next to his bed that he can sip on throughout the night...so last night was interrupted with an accident. The successful part? It didn't happen until 3am! (Who would have thought I would be thrilled to be woken up at 3am?!) Well, this means that he's changing his sleep pattern, which is the ultimate goal. So, no stars on the chart, but still progress in my book.

Night #3 - Last night was a prime example of how parenting is totally a trial-and-error, make-it-up-as-you-go endeavor. Since Ben didn't get any stars on Night #2, I channeled the wanna-be teacher in me and gave him an extra credit opportunity...take a bath, get a star. Now, I know I shouldn't have to bribe my child to bathe, but unless you've been locked up in a tiny, bungalow-style bathroom with a stubborn toddler who WILL NOT get his cute little tush in the bath because he has a boo boo on the bottom of his foot that he refuses to get wet...don't judge me. So, squeaky clean with a blue star added to the chart and ready for bed, Ben announces that he won't get out of his bed...and he doesn't until 5am. Again--small steps towards the overall success! No accidents + an almost-full night of sleep = 2 green stars for Ben.

Stay tuned...we're halfway there...

Dude looks like a lady...

That's my boy.

As his imagination kicks into high gear at age 3, it's only natural that part of pretending is to play dress up. And, I have to admit, that for over a year, he's donned just about every Disney princess gown there is...and on several occasions, I've caught him putting on Mommy's dresses and heels at home.

I'm perfectly OK that my son is already in touch with his feminine side. When that feminine side of his encourages him to look at my wedding picture and say "Oh, Mommy--you look like a princess!", who wouldn't be OK with it?? To this day, any time I wear a skirt or a dress, he thinks I'm dressed up like a princess...and there's no way I'm going to tell him otherwise.

My point is this: someday...far, far, FAR into the future, he's going to try and woo some lucky little lady. And he'll know right off the bat to compliment her outfit.

Some things you just can't teach.

Say what??

Artic. Exspresso. Nucular. On any given day, you might hear people mispronounce any number of words. As a parent, the probability that you will hear something verbally incorrect and hilarious on a daily basis increases exponentially...heck, Bill Cosby knew that "Kids Say the Darndest Things" was a comedic goldmine.

Ben comes up with some funny ones, I'll give him that. Stwallaberries were his favorite fruit for a long time, and we all remember laughing at the new name he gave Percy the green train...let's just say that one's x-rated, shall we? Perhaps I can chalk this up to him being a toddler...but maybe, just maybe, there is a hereditary explanation to all this.

My mom, sister and grandmother are all notorious for mispronouncing things...and even misidentifying things. (Please, Mama, Chelle and Mamaw...don't be mad at me...I'm laughing with y'all, not at y'all. And are you even reading this?!) Mamaw has placed several orders at eating establishments that made the waiter blush...from the Firecrapper Special featured on July 4th to the yummy fa-jigh-tas with salsa, we've all had a good chuckle. So it shouldn't be any surprise that her daughter and her daughter's daughter are plagued with the same language disease.


*Disclaimer--this was years ago...and we all laugh about it so I'm totally not making fun of my family.*

I don't think we'll ever forget Michelle announcing at the breakfast table, while pressing her thumb in the middle of her ribcage, that her scrotum hurt. Really? If that's the case, Chelle, then your ribcage is the least of our worries...

This all comes to mind because Mama and Daddy are visiting us, and they were reading a book review that I have in the latest issue of ISLANDS magazine. She read the first line and finished it with "...the island of O-hoo-ah..." and I stopped dead in my tracks. O-hoo-ah? Apparently, it's the lesser known Hawaiian island...right off the coast of OAHU.

She just laughed like she always does and said "Oahu? Isn't that what I said?"

No. No it wasn't. ;-)

Now, I...had...the time of my life...

Have you ever done something that just made you think, "Yeah--I LOVE my life!"?

Now that I'm back in the real world, I've had some time to reflect back on my experiences at the Olympic Games up in Vancouver. I know I didn't have much time there--trust me, I wish I could have stayed for the whole thing--but what I was able to see and do will stick with me for the rest of my life. Of course, there are too many things to write here, and I don't want to bore you with all that, but I did narrow it down into some highlights and interesting tidbits:

1 - The streetlights in downtown blink green sometimes. I thought it was to warn you that they're getting ready to turn yellow, but I'm not sure about this. If anyone knows why this is, please enlighten me.

2 - Speaking of lights...a lot of people still have their Christmas lights up. I just chalked it up to celebrating the Olympics, but no--they just do that.

3 - Cool people I met: Summer Sanders - Olympic swimmer, Nickelodeon hostess; Andy - former Bachelor--the "Officer and a Gentleman" season; Chris Davenport - extreme skier; Suzy Chaffee - '68 Olympic skier; Prince Hubertus Von Hohenlohe - Mexican skier.



4 - This one deserved its own line...Alberto Tomba. Tomba la Bomba. Apparently, he's pretty much one of the best skiers in the world. Ever. And I had no clue who he was. We were walking to get a late night bite to eat and ran into a colleague, Roberto. An Italian guy was with him, he introduced us, and this guy started taking out postcards of himself and signing them for us. My first thought was, "Uh...who does he think he is?!" Well, after we had our picture taken with him and he kissed us each on the cheek, I was filled in on exactly who he was. (As if I didn't feel stupid enough, after telling my mom on the phone who I met, she squealed like a schoolgirl and asked if she could have a copy of his autograph to take to work. That's right--Mama even knew him.) So, in hindsight, I guess that was the coolest person I got to meet.



5 - Right up there with #4 is this...THE red mittens. (C'mon, now--did you think I would get up there and lose my sense of shopping?) I, along with half of the modern world, decided that these were my must-have souvenir...and I would be willing to roam the streets looking for these coveted hand-coverers. Much like a designer purse, the knock-offs simply wouldn't do. I was going with the real deal. They were sold out everywhere in the adult sizes--and trust me--I felt a little like O.J. trying to squeeze my man hands into a kiddie-sized pair. Heartbroken and downtrodden, I left the Olympic store...and there he was. Steve. Or was it Spencer? Who cares--he had Rubbermaid tubs full of mittens!! The real ones!! This genius had found the loophole--he was 'trading' mittens for pins...plus a charge of $15. Was it legal? I didn't care. What were they going to do? Deport me? I was leaving soon anyway. So, I sealed the deal and walked away with my prize...and it's a good thing that I have them now because it's colder back here in "sunny" Florida than it was up there. ;-) Along with my official US Team shirt by Nike and my Canada sweatshirt...I'm set.

6 - The energy was absolutely amazing. Fans and athletes alike filled the streets in Whistler Village, and just to be present in that atmosphere was an opportunity of a lifetime. The memories I have of the times spent with some great people are things I'll cherish forever.

I've heard it said before--the spirit of the Olympic games unites the world for 2 weeks in a friendly competition...and it's totally true. Swedes were high-fiving Jamaicans, Canucks were hugging Koreans...and for a brief moment in time, we're all cheering for each other to succeed.

Go world...go le monde!

Just Whistler While You Work...

Oh Canada...

Well, I hopped off the plane in YVR…and boy is it amazing. Flying in over the opening ceremonies was incredible—we could see the fireworks and the spotlights going like crazy. Making our way through the airport was an experience in itself…in a good way! Brad would have loved this—so many natural materials, lots of glass…amazing. It was pretty cool to watch the ceremonies while waiting for our bags knowing that they were taking place only a short distance away. I exchanged some money and got my ticket for the charter bus up to Whistler….and can't wait to take that trip during the day--the Sea to Sky Highway was pretty amazing, even in the dark! Driving through downtown Vancouver was awesome--I can honestly say that this is one of the coolest cities I've ever seen. Being able to see the actual stadium over the bridge was incredible...I only wish I had more time to spend downtown!

I got into Whistler about 1am PST...and boy was I tired. Even at that hour of the night, things were alive--everyone I've met is so nice...and I can't wait to get out in the mountain air and see the sights.

Since the men's downhill event was postponed this morning, we have a little bit of free time before we have to get the SNOW house ready for the Patron party tonight...I know--it's a tough job, but somebody's gotta do it. ;-) Staying in the condo with us is France Lessard from Rossignol--thanks for the cute Rossi t-shirt, France!--and Hannah Hardaway, former Olympian herself. She modestly told us she placed 5th in the women's mogul event in Salt Lake City--needless to say, the conversation over coffee this morning was pretty amazing!! Barb, my publisher, and Joan texted me a picture of them last night at the opening ceremonies, and they'll be here shortly.

I've got my WiFi set up and I'm ready to keep y'all posted!! No pics yet...stay tuned!!

Let the Games begin!!

Well, I'm packed and ready to go...and it still hasn't sunk in yet that tonight I will be flying into Vancouver over the Opening Ceremonies to the Olympics.

This is such an amazing opportunity and I can't wait to get there!!

Stay tuned for updates and pictures from this weekend!

The Paci Fairy

Being a parent isn't always easy. But witnessing your child reach milestones makes it all worthwhile. Seeing your baby sit up, crawl, walk, talk...yes, those are pretty big. But, there are a few that are incredibly underrated: being old enough to get Mommy a new roll of toilet paper out of the closet in an...uh...emergency, learning how to put your own dirty dish in the sink (please pass this one on to Daddy), appreciating a variety of shoes to choose from...and, last, but CERTAINLY not least...getting rid of all pacifiers. Yes, folks, this is huge.

We are officially on Day 2 of being a Paci Free Family.

And we're exhausted.



So here's how it went down. We had every intention of Ben being Paci Free by his third birthday...and that came and went. We were down to 4 pacifiers--2 blue ones and 2 Shamu ones that were bought out of desperation on two separate trips to Sea World when we weren't able to find the aforementioned blue ones. Ben would sleep with ALL 4 clutched in his little hands every single night...forget the adorable monogrammed lamby that Chelle gave him at birth...these latex suckers were the only security blanket he needed. We honestly had no idea how to rid him of this habit. Let's face it--I had pretty much come to accept the fact that I would be taking him to get his driver's license and he would hand me the paci in order to be able to say "cheese!" for his picture.

And then Dana came to the rescue.

Over dinner and a bottle of wine, she introduced us to the Paci Fairy. (She'll give credit to the Super Nanny, but she's the super one if you ask me!) Apparently, this Paci Fairy comes at night, after the kids place their pacifiers in the mailbox and, in return, leaves a present. The used pacifiers then are taken to little babies all over the world who need a paci. (Thankfully, Ben was so preoccupied with visions of this Tinkerbell-ish fairy that he didn't question the hygeine of this theory.) We figured it was worth a shot.

Fast forward 2 weeks and Ben's got 6 Star Wars figurines and we're down to just one green and white paci. (I know, I know--I didn't list that one before, but he gave up the 2 Shamus and a blue one, then lost a blue one and somehow found a green and white one. Whatever--just stay with me.) Like a good friend, Ali stepped in and helped/made me dispose of the pacifiers at work...knowing that I may have a tantrum-induced state of weakness, causing me to dig a paci out of the trash for my own sanity. At this point, I have to give the kid credit--he totally gets that this is his last one and that if he gives this one away, he won't have any left. So he demonstrates his first act of procrastination. He keeps saying "I'll put this in the mailbox tomorrow, Mommy." This goes on for 3 days. I finally decide that since this is his last paci, and the last thing standing in his way of really becoming a Big Boy, this feat deserves an extra special reward.


Hiro the Train. (I have no idea how he knows about this train since he has only seen it on a flyer that came in another Thomas DVD, and as smart as I think he is, I'm pretty sure my little prodigy can't read yet.) Ben wants to add this to his extensive collection, so I figure this will be the perfect distraction...I mean, reward...for giving up his final paci. I bought it, had it wrapped and just waited until Ben was ready to take the plunge.

Yesterday afternoon--around 3:00pm--he was ready. For whatever reason, he figured the Paci Fairy could come in the middle of the day. Who says she can't? So, he placed his beloved paci in the mailbox and then waited. He checked a few times, and when he had to go to the bathroom, I ran out to the mailbox and made the switch. When he saw tissue paper and ribbon spilling out of the mailbox, he was so excited...and I was cautiously optimistic about our success. When he saw that his reward was Hiro, he said "I'm so happy!" and we were so proud of him...but knew the real test would come later, when the sun went down and he would want Ol' Green and White to help soothe him to sleep.

8:15pm. The Colts were still on track to beat the Saints...and Ben's in his PJs. Crying. Devestated...just like Peyton Manning would be in the near future. "I want my paci!" I tried reasoning with him...I tried encouraging him...I tried explaining that even though he didn't have his paci, he had an awesome new train!!! Who wouldn't want that?!?

He looks up at me, and hands me Hiro. "Here--put Hiro back in the mailbox and tell the Paci Fairy I will trade her."

Ah crap.

Short story long, he woke up twice, crying for his paci and was very upset this morning when he realized that it wasn't coming back. Getting ready this morning, I heard Brad talking to him in the living room and asking him why he didn't like Hiro anymore. After a minute, Ben said "I know that I like Hiro...I just don't like him right now."

So, here we are on Day 2. The last time he cried like this, he was 2 months old and trying to figure out how to sleep through the night...but he couldn't get out of the crib on his own then.

Oh well--sometimes as a parent, you have to be stronger than your child and do what you have to do...just knowing that this, too, shall pass.

The Channel formerly known as Noggin

I watch a lot of TV. I mean, A LOT. The Bachelor...Grey's Anatomy...Modern Family...Project Runway...Real Housewives of Anywhere...you name it--I'll watch it. Again, this is one of those things about myself that I'm willing to admit/live with...but that I'm slightly afraid that I will pass on to my child. If you've had kids or are pregnant, you know the feeling of being bombarded by books and experts telling you a million different things: don't use a pacifier, breastfeed until they go to college, don't drink during the pregnancy...DON'T let your child watch too much TV!! All very valid points/opinions. But I'm not sure that these so-called experts tuned in to channel 134 on Brighthouse in the Central Florida area before casting their ruling.

Noggin. Nick Jr. Whatever you want to call it--I call it the best tool a parent can have in his/her arsenal. Throw in a DVR and you've pretty much hit the jackpot.

As I'm typing this, I am home with Ben who is sick and he is watching Oswald. That's right--that giant blue octopus who is friends with a penguin and a giant daisy and has a daschund named Weenie. Here's the kicker--Oswald is brought to life by the voice of Fred Savage. That's right, folks. He's come a long way since The Wonder Years. And he's not the only star who enjoys lending his/her voice to animated creatures--Kristin Davis (SATC's Charlotte) is the voice of Miss Spider--a giant spider with 8 buggy kids who live in a tree in Sunny Patch.

But the Nick Jr. show that pulls in the biggest names has to be Yo Gabba Gabba. Wow. This show is really...interesting. I've never tripped on acid, but after watching about 5 minutes of this show, I think I get a general idea of what it would be like. Having said that, they really get some big names on there--Andy Samberg, The Roots, Rachel Dratch, Jack Black...they've all been on there. And they are there to promote good messages to the kiddies out there--don't bite your friends, love your family, try new foods...it's all good.

Of course, as Ben's gotten older, he's progressed from Blue's Clues and Wonder Pets--although, he still enjoys watching Lenny the Guinea Pig (who, by the way, is surprisingly a girl), Tuck the turtle and Ming Ming the duckling...(I am pretty sure that he likes this show so much because they sing a lot--what can I say? The kid is pretty much destined to like musicals.)

So, yes--he watches a lot of TV. My justification is this--he doesn't watch any during the day when he's at school, and really--it's educational and entertaining at the same time...and it's not like Ben's addicted to it...yet...

Opportunity knocks...

I am so freakin' excited right now.

Yours truly has booked her ticket for Vancouver--and is heading to the 2010 Winter Olympics.

WOO HOO!!

I still can't believe it--I'll be doing some work with SNOW magazine--be sure to check out www.thesnowmag.com to keep up with the blog on events!

The real question is this: should I bring back a stuffed Sumi or Quatchi for Ben??

Yesss, I Love Technology...

Log on to Facebook, and there's a good chance that one of your friends has become a fan of something. From "Thanks to Ed Hardy, I now recognize morons right away" to "Breathing Air" to "God"...there's something for everyone to like. As annoying as most of these are, one caught my attention..."When I was your age, we had to blow on the video games to make them work."

And I almost became a fan.

It got me to thinking about kids today, and the technology that is at their fingertips. (And then I thought of how old that makes me sound--even typing "kids today" ages me about 20 years.) It amazes me that I can hand my iPhone to Ben in the car and without a word, he has scrolled through 3 screens of apps to find the Tinker Bell game. Oops--I mean, uh, Star Wars Shootout.

It's crazy to me to think that my cousins who are in middle school and high school are taking their own iPhones to class with them. Teachers now are more worried about kids texting during lectures than passing folded up pieces of paper. You wanna know what I had in high school??

That's right. The Zach Morris cell phone. I eventually graduated to the Motorola StarTac, and then up to the Nokia--I was so super excited that they had a plastic Carolina blue case that could pop on to the front of it, and...what's this?! I can choose from different songs for when it rings?! Look out world, I'm an innovator.

But seriously...we have moved into a world where technology surrounds us...and our children. My dad's first laptop was a Compaq and it probably weighed about 15 pounds and the most exciting day EVER was when he figured out how to get that green pixelated Wheel of Fortune game on there. Ben can scroll on the Macbook and play Thomas the Train online and click 'print' and wirelessly put his computer art on paper. He plays tennis on the Wii and has become accustomed to having a seemingly infinite number of digital TV shows to choose from at any point in the day.

I'll admit--it's nice to have a library full of movies at my fingertips for when we're traveling. But sometimes, for a brief second, I get a little nostalgic and realize that kids today have no idea how good they have it.

Confessions of THIS Shopaholic...

Hi, my name is Nicki...and I'm a shopaholic.

(Hi, Nicki.)

Now that we've been introduced, I'd like to start by saying that I don't have a problem. I haven't really researched the exact definition of "aholic" but I'm not so sure that it should have such a negative connotation.

Case in point--I bought 4 pairs of shoes today. But wait--before you cast your judgment (and forward this link to Brad), hear me out. I'm going to, once again, say the 4 most important words in my vocabulary: They. Were. On. Sale. Seriously--I'm talking 50% off sale. And, they weren't even for me!!

As a mom--and ladies, y'all back me up on this--I'm constantly on the lookout for good deals on stuff for Ben and my nieces. It's OK to buy stuff 2 or 3 sizes too large because I know that eventually they're going to be able to wear it. Plus, it makes my life a whole lot easier to know that "hey, Ben likes these shoes and I know that he won't freak out when they don't fit and he can't wear them anymore because I've bought the exact same ones in 5 different sizes!"

Enter New Balance...specifically the store in the Winter Park Village. Their children-sized shoes are 50% off right now. That's right, mommies--HALF off. So, even though Ben wears a size 10, I bought a pair of 13s. And 1s. And 2s. (Now, I know you're perceptive and have done the math...that's only 3 pairs of shoes. I generously bought a pair of pink ones for Hailee because I called Michelle and could hardly contain my excitement...she wasn't quite as ecstatic about this deal of the new decade.) Granted, there are tons of other tennis shoes out there, but my kid couldn't even lift his head up when he started wearing 992s. What can I say...I have a thing for those gray suede sneakers...just ask Brad. ;-)

Here's the point--and I apparently have the gift of justification--he won't wear these shoes today...he won't wear them tomorrow...and he won't even wear them the next day...but someday, they'll be there. Several of his female classmates at school have already said they like his shoes--and girls, it's never too early in life to start appreciating a man's choice in sneakers. I'm just investing in his footwear future...in the meantime, I'm OK with his closet looking like the backroom of a shoe store.

Out of laziness, comes creativity...

I decided a while ago that I would start writing down things--mostly funny things about Ben--that I didn't want to ever forget. Of course, it had to be written in an adorable Kate Spade journal with a matching pen...but even that cuteness couldn't motivate me to turn off Family Guy reruns at night and really focus to write. So, I was thinking about blogging, but when Ali called and said she wanted to start doing it, too, I figured it was the perfect time to start. Plus--it's much easier to type out this stuff than it is to write it.

The name "Doodle Pad" comes from the nickname we gave Ben pre-birth. Brad and I were one of the few parents we know who chose not to find out the gender of our baby--I can now say that I had a "choice" in the matter, but I have to admit that it was quite possibly the biggest compromise I've ever made...but totally worth it! Anywho, we grew tired of calling It "It", and since my niece, Hailee said the first ultrasound picture looked like a duck...Ducky came to be. Since we then needed practice with the baby talk, "Ducky Doodles" seemed like an even cutesier nickname.

So! Now you're all caught up...let the fun begin.

PS--Ben had Quaker Oatmeal Squares for breakfast this morning.