Sweetness.

It's been hot outside which got Max and I thinking about popcicles.  It was a special treat we shared together a lot last summer.  We didn't have any in the house so we decided to make some out of frozen fruit that's been in the freezer for about a million years (I'm pretty sure we transferred it from the freezer in our last house when we moved.  I seriously refuse to throw food away.)  Besides little freezer burn doesn't hurt anyone.
He insisted "MAX DO IT!!!"  So I let him...

After waiting (what felt to Max like another million years) our popcicles were finally frozen. He checked on them several times. And each time he reported back to me "Almost!"

We sat on the back deck eating our treats in silence.  I had one of those moments when you look at someone and see how perfect they are and are able to fully absorb it.  He was so content and proud of himself for having made his very own popcicle.  His eyes were so blue.  He was a sticky mess and didn't care.  I said "Max, I'm so happy you're mine."  Usually he'd just giggle or say something completely unrealated to the statement I made, but instead he smiled and said "Me too Momma."

And that melted my heart faster than a popcicle on an 80 degree day in March.

Being Irish.

This post is belated, but I couldn't let one of our most celebrated family holidays go undocumented.  Here are a few of the highlights...


I find myself subconciously dressing the boys in orange and green throughout the month of March.  This is just a random day.  Sullivan chewing on the shamrock teether he got for Christmas.

I invited some of my fellow BMA members to decorate t-shirts for the Brookside "Warm-Up" parade. We had a great time making shirts (and bibs!) for our littles.



Yay!  Playgroup at our house!

St. Pat's theme for our play group this week!

- March 10th Snake Saturday - Brookside Parade -

Sullivan wearing his new bib proudly.  Ready to strut his stuff in the parade!

Bein' cute.

Waiting so patiently.





 Snake Saturday post-parade party at the Weirs.

Sunday, March 11th : Corned Beef & Cabbage dinner at the Murray's. 

Nora and Max liked the Irish flag cake the best.

Stuffed potatoes.

March 17th :  Traditional St. Patrick's Day Breakfast at Quigley's.

One year ago on this very day we found out we were having a baby boy.  And here's that same little stinker a year later.  I will never forget how proud you were to show off your boy parts at the sonogram :)  And how excited we were to be getting another sweet boy!

Irish music does something to this guy.

Another Murray breakfast in the books.

7 Months

Wonder-baby, you are so easy to love.  I hope your genuine happiness and gentle, peaceful nature lasts you your lifetime through.

I'm such a sucker for a dark-haired boy with blue eyes ;)

This month...
You roll and pivot on your tummy.  You babble.  You blow raspberries and giggle. 
You're close to crawling too.  Right now you look like an uncoordinated little inchworm trying to get your front end in sych with your back end.  The eager determination on your face is a heartwrenching sight.  You know where you want to go, but just can't...quite...get it together.  I am perfectly fine with your immobility at this point though :)

Oh, and you met the love of your life this month.  Her name is Finley Belle and she's a beauty.  We snapped a few pictures of your love-at-first-sight moment...you know, for the rehearsal dinner slideshow of course...

A Real Boy

I have to admit...as proud as I am of the strides Max has made lately, it's making me a little sad.  He's turning into a real boy.  He's no longer a baby...not even a toddler anymore really.

The day after his 2nd birthday we took away his pacifier.   He still had them at naps and bedtime.  And he always had to have one in his mouth and one in each hand before falling asleep.  I thought we were in for a long struggle with this one.  At two years and one day old we snipped the tips off each of his beloved "Nuks" and said they were broken.  He asked me to fix them, but I said I couldn't.  Oh boy, I thought, here come the hysterics.  Instead he surprised us by running down the hall and putting them in the bathroom trash.   My heart sank a little, but then rebounded with pride.  One of the last little shreds of babyness gone.

Then last weekend we decided to make a true attempt at potty training.  We had Max carry all of his diapers from his room into Sullivan's room and we told him that they belonged to the baby now.  He was a big boy and didn't need diapers.   I was prepared with a huge stack of old towels, a mop and various cleaning supplies.  I imagined spending my weekend covered in poop and pee and losing my patience.

Once we transfered all of the diaper's to Sullivan's room we replaced Max's diaper with big boy underware.  And waited.  We repeated "Tell us if you need to go potty!  Keep your underware dry!" like broken records.  And waited some more.  Four hours passed...he hadn't told us he needed to go at all, but he was still dry.  I thought we were in for it.  A ticking time bomb waiting to go off.  But finally he gave me a slightly panicked look and said "Pee pee potty, mommy!"  We ran off to the bathroom just in time.  Since then he hasn't looked back.  He even wakes up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.  I still remind him repeatedly to tell us when he needs to go, but he's doing great.  And with that he left behind his final piece of babyhood.

Big boy underware in all it's glory.

Pants were not allowed during training so we played outside pantless.  And Dad added to your coolness with sport socks pulled up high :)

One of our sweet neighbor boys came over to play with you since we were pretty much bound to the house during "training".  You two played baseball for over an hour.  You are surrounded by boy neighbors on all sides and its sweet that they've all taken you, as the youngest on the block, under their wings.

 One hilarious result of Max being potty trained is that he now considers himself an expert on dirty diapers.  He watches me change Sullivan and will say "Oh no baby.  Poo poo diapers yuck."

Each time I change a poopy diaper he reminds me..."Don't eat that momma."   Um, ok Max, I won't! Thanks for the pointer. How hilarious are kids?!

Today I left the room for a minute to put a particularly offensive diaper out back.  When I returned I found this...

He told me "Max clean up baby's mess".  What a big helper he is!

So these two major advances coupled with him speaking in nearly full sentences all of a sudden is a lot for this momma to process.   But I've decided I'm going to try to soak up all of the things that make this new phase amazing and worth cherishing just as much as the baby phase.  And so a new chapter has begun...

Warm Winter Days

It's days like these that make me remember how fun it was to be a kid...

I followed Max up the steps and across the little bridge when he turned around and said "Momma, is our house!" (his imagination is on fire lately.) and I said, "Oh, what a lovely home we have!" 

Max ran up to the next level of the jungle gym and proudly said "Max's room! Nigh-night!" 

His excitement and enthusiasm reminded me of playing at Antioch Park as a little girl.  They had little play buildings and houses we would run around.  Staking claim to rooms.  Pretending we lived there.  We took it so seriously.

Now as parents we get so many opportunities to experience those precious childhood moments again.  The ones I don't think we fully appreciated when we were living them. 

So I ducked into one of the slide tunnels and yelled "This is Momma's room!"  Max giggled and said "Yeah!  Momma's room!"  and crawled in to sit on my lap.

These little boys are the next best thing to having access to the fountain of youth.