La Vie En Rose

This song is just spectacular. Anyone who has seen Wall-E will recognize the tune.

Earlier this year, my new boss (who is French) hosted a "La Vie En Rose" themed soiree. The party proceeded much like a wedding reception sans wedding ceremony. Toward the end of the evening, bossman  grabbed a microphone at the piano and summoned his young daughter to the front.

They performed this song together with dad playing piano and daughter singing in French and then English. It was saccharine sweet but really cool. It was certainly surprising to see my boss, the finance beast, rocking a piano. C'est la vie!

Happy Parenting from Baby O

This was not our finest hour together. I absorbed most of it, so the floor cleanup was a snap!

Happy 4th from Baby O!

It happened again

Here's a picture of Michael's reaction to what Owen did in the bath water last night. It happened again. Sigh.

Back in the Day

Back in my day, kids were tough. We went outside unsupervised all day long. We rode bicycles without helmets. When we crashed, we splinted our shattered limbs and kept right on pedaling. We climbed to dizzying heights in trees, plummeted to our dooms from net-less trampolines, and waded through creeks flush with brain-eating amoebas, pinching crawdads, and hissing serpents. And we liked it!

We caught snakes; some apparently poisonous. We riled up wasp nests and paid the price. Our swimming pools didn’t have fences around the perimeter. Our neighborhood pool had a high diving board with a treacherous ladder and the risk of a belly flop from 10 feet in the air.

We rode our bikes to the Collin Creek Mall where we would spend unsupervised hours in the arcade, the bulk candy store, and the video game store. We crossed moderately busy roads without using crosswalks, and I can’t remember anything like a close call with a car.

We didn't have safety. It wasn't invented back then. Ever seen one of those crazy Japanese obstacle course shows? That's what our playgrounds were like: hard metal edges, treacherous monkey bars, unprotected drops to an unforgiving earth, crotch-slamming seesaws, brutal merry-go-rounds fit to launch the unwary into near-Earth synchronous orbit. And we liked it!

We would play under the baking sun all summer. You see, dehydration hadn't been invented yet. A swig of hot water from a filthy garden hose was all we needed. Sunscreen? Are you kidding me? "Get outside. Kids shouldn't sit around all day in air conditioning. Turn off the Nintendo and get out!" they would tell us. So we did.

Were there casualties? Sure, not all of us made it. I was no stranger to the emergency room. We took it in stride and kept right on going with a new cast or some stitches.

Nowadays, I’ve got two little boys of my own, and I think maybe they don’t need to be as tough as I was. A little safety might be in order. Have you seen how much copays and ER visits cost these days?

Magic

I really liked this quote.

Michael: "Omar says that crayons aren't magic. But I say that crayons are magic.We don't eat crayons. That's bad manners"

Baby Logic

I am a baby. My name is Owen. I am exceedingly fond of pacifiers. I like them like my dad likes coffee, and if you take my pacifier away, I will shriek until your ears bleed.

Sometimes I get mad. Perhaps I would like to climb the stairs, and someone stops me. Life is not easy. I have no freedom. Can't talk. I misplace a toy. My brother steals one. I slam my head on the coffee table. Darn dog just grabbed my slice of cheese right out of my hand. Sometimes at meals, they give me inedible food. It's enough to drive a fellow to tears, I tell you. I just want to take that bowl of cereal and sweep it off the high chair in a glorious cascade of tumbling cheerios. And sometimes I do.

When I become enraged, I must take action. As person of diminutive size and youthful age, my options are limited. There's yelling, squirming, slapping, and flopping on the ground. Each approach has its merits and drawbacks. However, my favorite thing to do is take my pacifier out of my mouth and throw it as far as I can.

Doesn't make sense, does it? I usually think, "I've made a huge mistake." I don't really understand why I do this either. It's the one possession that I love above all others, and I just throw it all away in a fit of rage. If you have any idea why I do this, I would love to know.. In the meantime would you mind picking it up off the floor and giving it back to me? Thanks.

Happy Father's Day

Although today is bittersweet having just lost my own dad a little over a month ago, I'm very lucky to have a husband who adores his kids as much as Christopher does.  Our boys are fortunate to have such an involved and joyful dad.  Happy Father's Day Christopher!