circa 1952

On hiatus

2011-02-02T21:46:00.000-08:00

I haven't been up for blogging lately. Obviously. I finally had my surgery. Thank God. Oh, do I have a gruesome photograph to share! Stretch marks and all. And my babies are growing up before my eyes. They need to slow down. The pictures above are merely two stolen moments from the last week. They already look different. For one, I cut August's overgrown bangs today. Poor man was getting a neck crick from having to look up so he could see. Bad mom. What's more, Liam has added new words to his vocabulary like "actually" and "heck." Bad mom.

From Christmas

2011-01-05T14:37:00.000-08:00

My man is 4

2011-01-02T23:37:00.000-08:00

We moved AGAIN ...

2010-12-14T13:34:00.000-08:00

Slowly my depressive state is abating. It's been a sucky six months. But it can only get better, right? We had to bid adieu to our downtown abode, which is best for our little family anyway. We our now living with my folks, and my brother, my brother's lady, his son, his daughter ... two German shepherds, one chicken coop. No, I'm kidding about the chicken coop. Although, I told my Ma the living situation is similar to what one may find in Mexico, or a tenement in 1920s New York. I can only joke about it all, because I'm at that point. But at least I'm happy and most importantly, my hobbits are happy. I can buy salmon for dinner.

I'll be seeing you ...

All I have to say is ...

2010-11-29T11:05:00.000-08:00

ugh and f*ck

Thank you, thank you, thank you

2010-11-21T11:54:00.000-08:00

A robot and a greaser

2010-11-04T19:23:00.000-07:00

We made Liam's costume out of an old vacuum box and tin foil. We then decorated it with markers, pipe cleaners and old bolts. David rigged up a hat with an antenna. The kid was so excited to have this costume that he's been putting it on every day since. August's costume was basically some slicked back hair and temporary tattoos, which he tried to eat off.

(Before trick-or-treating we headed to a harvest festival where Liam strutted around to "oohs and ahhs." Most people thought he was the Tin Man, to which he corrected them in his most hilarious, but serious robot voice. He was so happy.)

Liam decorated this baby pumpkin.

And I decorated August's pumpkin. I wonder who I modeled it after?

It was an exhausting day, but worth it.

Pumpkin patch

2010-10-28T20:05:00.000-07:00

Give peas a chance

2010-10-24T12:38:00.000-07:00

Do you ever just HAVE to make something that you've seen on TV? I have.

On this last season of "Top Chef" there was an incident with stolen pea puree. My version turned out so-so. It can easily overpower the entire dish, so using it sparingly is key. I used an online recipe. It was very easy to make. A little olive oil, sea salt, mint, pepper ...

He's 3 and driving us crazy

2010-09-28T15:14:00.000-07:00

Morning

2010-09-22T10:50:00.000-07:00

I wake up, shrug on a cardigan and drink coffee.

Next, I tend to starving peasant boys wandering

around my living room. Their blackened feet

remind me that I need to mop.

Fumes from nearby work trucks travel

through open windows. Oddly, it reminds me of Paris.

It's autumn. A wasted summer of muddled thought.

Grainy photographs and words hover,

waiting for their chance.

My hands make crumb cake instead.

What I did over summer vacation

2010-09-15T20:54:00.000-07:00

I haven't updated the blog since early June because I've been struggling with a chronic case of glum. I know, I'm a very bad blogger. It's just that summer is always an unpleasant time for me — the heat, no school, no money ... blah, blah, blah. And to top it off, we moved AGAIN. (I'll talk about this in a later post. There will also be a house tour, not quite Apartment Therapy style, but a tour nonetheless.) But I'm back, for now. The gloomy haze is finally on the retreat. Despite my malaise, tons of stuff has happened. Hopefully, this VERY LONG POST will heal whatever wounds I've inflicted on my four readers. (Sorry, Michael!) I promise new, exciting posts every week from here on out.

He wanted a hammock, but got a painting

David's birthday was in June. What do you get for a guy who has hundreds of CDs, records and books? Money's been tight, so I had to get creative. I've always been the person who gives handmade gifts whenever possible. I love scribbling out odes and poems for my people. But I've given those types of things before. I thought about it for a while, then decided to do something I've never done before — paint. And not just an abstract piece, but a portrait of the birthday-boy himself. I took art in high school, but never attempted anything on this scale. I used acrylic paint on a fairly big canvas. I sketched first, then got to work. I'm not a genius painter by any means, but I'm satisfied with the end result. It's sort of quirky and I like that. The birthday boy was in shock. And I'm sure he loves seeing his head as he walks through the living room every day. Ha! I had so much fun painting. It's my new thing.

Padre party

My sister also celebrated a birthday in June. The big 40. So her friends threw her a surprise bash at the newly renovated Padre Hotel downtown. The rooftop bar was the perfect backdrop for our pomegranate margarita swilling and appetizer nibbling. A random man bought us all a round of drinks later that night. Free drinks and cake. It was fun.

(My mama, my sister, and me. They made my sis wear a pink boa.)

(My drink and a cool clutch.)

(My mama and me. Don't I look like a vato chick at the fair? All I need is bandanna on my head and hoop earrings.)

(My mama in her new threads purchased for the occasion. She looked hot I tell you.)

(I was taking many random pictures throughout the evening.)

(The cake finally appeared.)

(Part of the hotel, looking up from the rooftop bar.)

Amanda's wedding

At the end of June David's sister, Amanda, got married. We traveled to Rocklin, Ca., for the event. Liam and August were the cutest little ring bearers ever. Their outfits were adorable. They had to bribe Liam with cookies to get him down the aisle. The wedding was incredible. Amanda chose vintage china, old knickknacks, candles and delicate flowers for all the tables. It was shabby chic at its finest. Oh, and Amanda looked so beautiful and most of all, happy.

(Liam, Grammy and August walking down the aisle.)

(After the ceremony. August was fascinated by the grass.)

(Liam drinking lemonade.)

Let's go to the beach

We wrapped up summer vacation with a quick day trip to the beach. Had lunch at Brad's in Pismo. August loves fish. Liam? Not so much. Then we headed north to escape the hordes, and ended up in Cayucos. I hadn't been there in years. The kids played in the sand and I of course took way too many pictures. It was there, sitting in the sand watching my beautiful boys bounce around that I decided that being depressed is for the birds. I've been getting better ever since.

(My happy little man.)

(Liam and Daddy racing by the water. It was straight out of Rocky 2.)

(Liam finally ventured into the waves. I've never seen so many smiles.)

(My family silhouetted.)

Stay tuned for more adventures, decorating stories and general randomness ...

Our True Blood summer supper

2010-06-15T13:35:00.000-07:00

On Sunday we whipped up the best no-muss summer supper. Pulled-pork sandwiches and broccoli crunch salad. My mother-in-law, the pork tenderloin queen, pulled out the Croc-Pot at 10 a.m. and submerged two-inch pieces of meat in water, adding a few spices and one bay leaf. The concoction would be ready at 6. No slaving over a hot stove ... awesomeness.

Later I started the broccoli salad, recipe can be found at a blog I frequent called, Everybody Loves Sandwiches. It's so easy to make and guess what, NO COOKING.

Tonight, I'm using the leftover shredded pork in some fried rice.

Swimming lessons, Day One

2010-06-14T13:21:00.000-07:00

He's been apprehensive of the swimming pool since the day he jumped into the deep end after seeing his dad do it. That was about a year ago. He's perfectly content to play on the top step, and hangs on for dear life if he's in your arms. At least this summer he's keeping his swim trunks on. In the past it's been butt-naked Liam frolicking to and fro.

He started his first official lessons today. After a few minutes of coaxing, the kid finally let his teacher take him in. And this is what happened:

"Take me back to my mama!"

He finally warmed up to the idea of being out there just when it was time to get out. Figures. But he'll be back tomorrow. Two weeks of this at 9:45 a.m.

My specs

2010-06-11T14:12:00.000-07:00

Liam is quite fond of my new glasses, trying them on every chance he gets proclaiming, "I can't see. I can't see!"

Of course you can't see. You're not semi-blind like mom.

I decided to get the retro frames this time to the dismay of my mother, father, sister and brother. They act as though me being different is anything new.

"Why those glasses? You look like Grandma Vera in those."

"Whatever, Cindy."

"Huh?"

I admit, I do look a bit silly/nerdy/stupid wearing them. Oh well.

What's wrong with 1959?

2010-06-10T09:25:00.000-07:00

When I close my eyes I see hardwood floors and vintage charm. When I open them, I see wall-to-wall carpet, marble tile and brass fixtures. The house we live in was built in 1999 and is perfectly adequate, but whenever I can I try to bring in the past. Even if it takes a couple of cheap bath mats from Wal-Mart. And yes, they are powder pink. They remind me of '50s — I WAS FORCED TO BUY THEM. The rugs don't particularly go with the tan-on-brown bathroom color scheme, but I don't care. They make me happy.

At least they don't have flowers on them ...

My bicycle

2010-06-09T11:08:00.000-07:00

Liam finally got his new bike. But don't you dare call it a "bike." It's his "bicycle." Period. It was between this Jeep jobber or a Spider-Man one. He picked the Jeep. Just took off on it mid-store. He fell asleep on the way home, but instantly woke as we were unloading, asking about where his new bike was. So we all went outside so he could show off. We forgot to buy the helmet ... bad parents, very bad parents ...

My Indian name: Stands with a Fist Full of Worry

2010-06-03T09:19:00.000-07:00

My littlest man is battling the ickiest of ickiests, a staph infection. It started with a diaper rash. Red splotches. My trusty ally, A & D ointment, wasn't cutting it. Took him to the doctor for his checkup and the rash was deemed nonfungal — a good sign. BUT ... two weeks later, he breaks out with a bigger bump, then another. The first one drained, and we thought we were done with the rash-turned nasty bumps, but the second one on his thigh grew and grew. Then came the 103-degree fevers. David knows a thing or two about medical stuff, so we waited to see if this bump would drain, thus halting the fevers. It didn't happen. He went to see Dr. Valkova yesterday and was promptly put on antibiotics. The kid is doing better today, and the infection site is getting smaller. But I'm still concerned. I wouldn't allow him to sleep alone in his crib last night. Instead I made a pallet for him on the living room floor while I laid on the couch. I couldn't sleep, and was constantly touching him to see if the fever was coming back. Then, I made the biggest MISTAKE ... I watched "My Sister's Keeper" on HBO. I'm not one for seeing children in peril, but I could not stop watching it. The movie was total emotional manipulation — a cancer-stricken girl with an oppressive mom— but it got me thinking about all the stuff I try not to think about. You see, I have a problem. I'm an chronic worrier. I even worry about other people's shit.

He's babbling to Liam right now. So cute. Oh, and this week he started walking. Things aren't so bad.

I can hear Alice Cooper right about now ...

2010-05-28T00:31:00.000-07:00

Liam's preschool program was last night. I'd like to say that all went well ... He had some cute moments before the aggro robot spontaneously emerged during one song.

Liam's robot brigade

(Walking down to give us a flower.)

(Waiting to start the Shapes song.)

(Contemplating his next robot move.)

(Showing off his certificate.)

(Getting his medal.)

Earlier this year he took a field trip to the fire station. David chaperoned the little group on their journey.

A vintage party for a vintage baby

2010-05-19T09:12:00.000-07:00

The best moments about being a mom

2010-05-09T13:57:00.000-07:00

My babies ... my life.

Better late than never, eh

2010-05-08T10:38:00.000-07:00

Easter photo shoot. Ninety-one giggles, six grandkids and one Hooters egg (thanks, Logan).

Moo and Rosemary's

2010-04-19T15:06:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back we went for ice cream — at two different places. Yes, I still have Easter pics to post ...

Almond-shaped eyes and pomegranate margaritas

2010-04-17T09:24:00.001-07:00

The night started with a truly subpar movie starring that dude from "Twilight." His James Dean-inspired head tilts weren't enough to patch up a shoddy plot, I'm sorry to say. But catching a movie with friends always wins, even if the picture tortures your cinematic soul.

The mid-March affair called for makeup. It had been awhile since this stay-at-home mama had twirled a mascara wand.

After the movie we dined at the illustrious Belvedere inside the newly renovated Padre Hotel. Mama J immaculately cut up filet mignon, while Miss D skewered velvety pillows of ravioli. I had chicken, but the cocktail was more memorable. The one thing missing from our four-top was M. Wiggy, who had to bow out at the 12th hour due to illness.

After dinner we hit up the bar, and more debauchery ensued. Mama J even tried to play matchmaker for Miss D. It was really more of an experiment in buzzed social graces, for the thinning-on-top blond was in his mid-20s (too young).

I found myself constantly looking up — the architecture is that amazing.

Miss D's flamboyant shoes punctuated storytelling and laughs.

The night wrapped up with the trio daringly exploring the hotel's inner sanctum.

All I want to know is ... when can I do it again?

I can't believe he's almost 1

2010-03-09T14:24:00.000-08:00

He sleeps like a stink bug, crossing his ankles so that his velvety feet point upward. Sudden calm moments whenever he hears music. Crawling in his own way. And his first word ... mama.

Today was a good day

2010-02-25T17:07:00.000-08:00

Pizza by Liam

2010-02-15T15:36:00.000-08:00

Barbecue chicken pizza with green apples, bacon bits and green onions. He put on several of the apples slices and stole hunks of the chicken while we were making it, so happy to be helping mama in the kitchen. But he refused to eat his slice afterward. I think barbecue sauce is a deal breaker for him.

Even though daddy's working ...

2010-02-14T13:11:00.000-08:00

We don't normally trade gifts on V-day, but I saw a site where you can create your own shirts and thought it would be cute to honor the one I love. He's working today so my plan of wearing it about the town was a bust. Oh, well.

On Saturday a letter from Liam arrived in the mail. He decorated us a Valentine at school.

Last night David came home with a pair of gifts for the boys. A plush wolf and robot. The stuffed animal, which Liam named Wolfie on August's behalf, says "Happy Birthday, Chase. Love grandma and grandpa, and Uncle Michael" when you squeeze its paw. Needless to say, these gifts came from the hospital rummage sale. My man is a workin' fool, no time for a Toys R Us excursion here. Wolfie's price tag: $2. Robot's: $2. Total cost: Love from a very special daddy.

Keeping him from putting more coins into my iMac

2010-02-04T11:49:00.000-08:00

Keeping Liam occupied is a full-time gig on top of all my other motherly duties ... like caring for an 8-month-old, cleaning, paying bills, cooking. I snicker when I hear people say, "Oh, just put on a movie, or let him play with his toys." I wish. My kid requires new things every day to keep it interesting. He's always on the prowl for something new to talk about, explore and deconstruct. Playing with cars only lasts for so long, people. The kid is complicated. To that end, I've been trying to come up with new activities that don't require money. Our latest thing is cutting up magazines so he can glue the objects onto paper. TOTALLY FREE! It kept him busy for an hour yesterday.

Anyone have any other ideas for my imaginative boy?

My dream baby

2010-02-01T11:27:00.000-08:00

Dear August,

You're 8 months old and I'm just now getting around to writing your first letter. I believe that's when I wrote your brother's, too — so don't feel jilted for being the second born. If you ever become the middle child, you may wallow in the short shrift as I did. For the record, my parents would categorically deny any disrespect toward their middle child, but middle children always seem to find something wrong with, well, not being the oldest or youngest. Don't worry, I'm crazy obsessed with you and will do all I can to show that my love is immeasurable. You'll tire of the camera lens always six inches from your face, I'm sure.

The first time I saw you wasn't when a surprise 10-pound baby was placed in my arms. I saw you first in a dream. I wasn't even pregnant yet, but there you were. Liam was holding a smaller boy's hand. He had brown hair and bright eyes. Liam called the boy Gus. I told your dad about the dream, and we forgot about it for a while. When we did find out I was pregnant again, we didn't want to know the gender. Everyone surmised you were definitely going to be a girl. I dubbed you Baby G. Many thought I did this because I had mother's intuition that we'd be buying pink bedding in the near future. At first, I thought you could be a girl, but that inkling faded. I know now that I called you Baby G because of the wayward dream. You were our little Gus. We talked about the dream and decided that if you were a boy, we'd call you August with Gus being your nickname. What's more, you were conceived in August.

I never imagined it was possible to love another little creature as much as I loved my first baby. Your dad worried that he wouldn't have enough love for another child. We worried about how Liam would react to not being our entire world. We worried about the dog not warming up to you. Our worries were silly. You came into our life when we needed it most. You are such a happy baby. Your joy makes my worst days the best days. You have this delicious sweet breath. I often hold you real close, trying to catch it, seal it away in my memory. If anyone asks what I'm doing, I'll tell them I'm like the cat in the old wives' tale.

"No, he'll eat it!"

Liam was very patient with you when you were first born. He'd help me, want to hold you all the time. Now, he's learning that you, too, want to touch every toy you come in contact with, and he's all but had it. It's fun to watch as you descend on his racetrack or Hot Wheels cars while he rants and raves about their impending doom. He does like to give you kisses and hugs, and calls you either, Baby Brudder or Baby Augettzz.

You got your first tooth at 7 months, and now you're army crawling all over the house. Recently, we've caught you pulling yourself into a standing position. Your milestones are pretty consistent with your brother's, but you're different in so many ways. Liam has a vibrant personality that commands attention. He was flirting with strangers when he was your age. But you have a quietness about you. You're not a mute, in fact, you're quite vocal — that's not what I mean by quiet. It's your spirit. It's so unbelievably calm. You sing, too. My mom's best friend, Aunt Lynne, prophesied that you'd have a song in your heart, so you're living up to God's plan in that sense.

GusGus, Choonka Bear and Bright Eyes are some of our favorite monikers for you. We love you so much, August. In a cynical world, it's refreshing to know that dreams do come true.

Love,

Mama

2010-01-21T15:52:00.000-08:00

It's been raining for days now, which I love. There's nothing like lounging around with your PJ-clad kids while droplets hum on the window. The boys have been under the weather lately, so there have many naps around these parts, which I love. Before the outbreak we ate at Panera Bread — a chain that specializes in sandwiches and soups. David is addicted to their broccoli cheddar soup. To save a little money and keeping with the wet weather, I decided to make my own soup. It's really easy, and so much better than soup from a can. Try it!

Ingredients

1/4 cup butter
2 teaspoons onion powder
2 teaspoons garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper
1 (16 ounce) package frozen chopped broccoli
1 quart chicken broth
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups whole or 2% milk
salt to taste
8 ounces shredded sharp Cheddar cheese

Directions

Melt butter over medium heat in a stockpot. Add onion, garlic and pepper; cook for 1 minute then stir in broccoli, and stir in chicken broth. Bring to a boil and simmer until broccoli is tender, 10 to 15 minutes.
Meanwhile whisk flour into milk until dissolved. Stir into soup stirring frequently until thickened. Reduce heat, and stir in cheese until melted and heated through.
Season with salt to taste.

Path to citizenship

2010-01-20T14:28:00.000-08:00

I think we've found a new preschool for Mr. Blond. His classroom has a homey feel, and the place isn't swarming with GAP poster children. In fact, it feels like 1982 in there. But it's not out of date. I guess it just reminds me of somewhere I would have gone when I was little. His class size is quite small, but that will better help him develop his social skills. The director is so awesome, I about died when I saw how easily she redirected him in the hallway. It's so much more than using the right words. It's about assertiveness of spirit. Hopefully, Mr. Blond will soon become an official citizen of the toddler world.

Tabbouleh adventure

2010-01-19T22:20:00.000-08:00

Watching Food Network is always a treacherous thing when you're a plump stay-at-home mom. It can either inspire you to whip up delicious low-fat entrees in your kitchen or propel you into a potato chip bag at warp speed. I happened to catch an episode of "30-Minute Meals" recently and luckily I became inspired.

I've never eaten tabbouleh salad and watched in fascination as she grated lemon zest, carrying on about how glorious the concoction smelled. It's typically served in spring/summer, being that it is a cold salad. It's also a healthier alternative to macaroni or potato. So, not letting the dreary winter weather break my stride, I set out to make the dish.

Days later when I couldn't find Ray's recipe online, I consulted my favorite voluptuous foodie, Nigella Lawson. I have one of her cookbooks that David got me a few years ago. I ran into my biggest obstacle at dreaded Vons. Why can't the store catering to affluent white women in track suits have bulghur? I had to improvise mid-store — I wasn't about to retreat. I discovered Israeli couscous can easily substitute for the wheat. It's toothier than regular couscous, and was marvelous in my recipe. No wonder they're the chosen people. Mazel! But next time I will use bulghur.

1 cup medium bulghur

juice of two lemons, grated zest

2/3 cup olive oil, or more if needed

salt and fresh black pepper

1/2 cup chopped mint leaves

12 scallions cut into rings (white and green parts)

2 small red onion, minced

6 tomatoes finely chopped

Half English cucumber chopped

1/4 cup roasted pine nuts

Put bulghur in bowl, cover it with boiling water, soak 30 minutes, drain as much water out as possible. Mushy bulghur won't be good. Next, stir in everything else. Taste the final product to see if needs more seasoning.

I promise you this tabbouleh will be a welcome change. I paired mine with grilled turkey burgers/pepper jack cheese wrapped in leafy green lettuce — the low-carb bun. David had his on a flat-wheat bun, 100 calories each.

In my current domestic state ...

2010-01-07T15:53:00.000-08:00

I kept telling both sets of parents not to buy me anything for Christmas, but they did not comply. And I'm SO GLAD they didn't listen to me! My gifts are so outstanding, it warms my heart to think they know me so well. My love and gratitude to my parents, Steve and Shirley, my in-laws Susan, Michael and Debra. Here's a run down:

Stainless steel pots and pans by Emeril.

A monogrammed cake pan. It also has my full name inscribed on the bottom. (Both last names, the way I want to be known.)

An onion keeper for those pesky half onions that stink up the refrigerator.

Handmade chocolate soy candles that are so unbelievably fragrant.

Handmade bag for cooking baked potatoes in the microwave.

Garlic keeper.

Pinwheel serving set. This will be great for when I start my Sunday Night Dinners.

The Sarge is 16

2010-01-05T20:39:00.000-08:00

"Do you realize that in 19 years I'll be 80!"

He wanted the candles on his cake to read 16 ...

We ate steak skewers, baked potatoes, simple salad and fresh green beans — a typical Sargeanto menu. A cake magically appeared and so did ice cream made in an Oregon factory.

The kids assembled. And their kids as well.

Sydney (almost 5) ~ Aarron (11) ~ Logan (11) ~ August (7 months)

~ Khloe (16 months) ~ Liam (3)

Once and always a daddy's girl.

Ain't nothing but a G-thing, baby ...

Crazy Disney business

2009-12-30T15:38:00.000-08:00

Here are the boys in front of the Christmas tree near the entrance. His aunts are in the background also getting their picture taken by their mama. Aunt Amanda is holding Aunt Hannah because that's what they did the last time they were at Disneyland during Christmas. It's been years.

Here's Liam on the Teacups with David and me. He loved them.

Another happy face during the ride. Later, he went again with his aunts and his papa.

He spotted this car in Toon Town. We had to swoop in amid the masses of anxious kids running amok.

Handy Manny got all the love.

August with his newly acquired ears. They say "Gus Gus" on the back.

Waiting for It's A Small World, very patiently I might add — for a 3-year-old. We also rode Pirates, where he sat very quiet next to Papa, hands clasped. At home he's been walking around singing, "Yo, ho, ho, a pirates on to me ..." And he won't be corrected.

And finally, a pose with Goofy — a character he most resembles.

We had a good trip. I'll be posting the rest of the Disney, Laguna Beach pictures on Facebook.

Robot party

2009-12-14T12:49:00.000-08:00

Liam turned 3 so we celebrated with friends and family — robot-style. I made the cake and we decorated with red lights and painted robots. Liam actually had fun this year, unlike years past. Although he still can't seem to share his stuff with my friends' kid, Remy. Maybe it's an age thing, they're only one month apart. Thanks to everyone who attended and brought gifts.

I made the boys these robot shirts using freezer paper as stencils.

Best thing about Thanksgiving ...

2009-11-29T12:17:00.000-08:00

Leftovers for breakfast, leftovers for lunch, leftovers for dinner. Cooking with the press of a button. Unfortunately, I have to go grocery shopping tomorrow and resume my domesticity.

Turkey Day at the Gardners'

2009-11-28T19:09:00.000-08:00

The day before Thanksgiving I helped Liam paint turkey hands.

My little family, the Gardners

My sister's family, the Cooles

My brother's family, the Sargeants

My mama making potato salad at 11 a.m. Apparently, she's been barista-ing for a little extra cash, hence the Starbucks apron.

I made everyone sit down at pushed-together card tables that I decorated. Usually we do Thanksgiving in what I like to call California style — you know, people sit or stand anywhere they can find around the house. I used to eat pumpkin pie in my aunt's closet when she lived in La Cresta ... This time, I wanted to simulate how families eat on TV and my family placates my romantic notions, to which I'm grateful.

My brother taking over turkey-carving duties as Sarge (my dad) assumes his position: No. 1 supervisor. The damn bird wasn't done, so I cranked up the oven to 480.

Me and GusGus outside on the swing. My choonka bear was so sleepy all day.

The day after Thanksgiving, David's dad and family came to see us. We had a nice lunch then watched Liam run circles around the fountain.

Look, it's Robert Pattinson!

2009-11-25T19:26:00.000-08:00

Hot off the gossip presses: Not only does this hunky tot idol adore Ray-Bans, he likes to nosh on his mama's homemade fried rice. (And the girls go wild ....aaahahahahahahahaahahahahaaa)

He said he like my boots ...

2009-11-24T20:26:00.000-08:00

The day started with a perfect cake doughnut from Smith's.

David surprised our little family with baked goods and oh, my stars and garters — his presence. He's been working so much lately that having him around when the light is still crisp and the coffee's fresh was a welcome change. We spent a lazy morning reading books, hoisting a chubby Gus and laughing at our clever Liam. For those of you who might be interested in the minutiae, David's reading the last Harry Potter book (bleh) and I'm entrenched in "The Weight of Silence." I took several mental Polaroids hoping to freeze the morning because I knew we had other things to do — as we always do when David has a whole day off. But the entire day turned out to be one of those that you file in away and talk about later.

We ventured to the mall. Ugh. Surprisingly, the place was docile and actually pleasant. David spotted the VW toy machine, then Liam did. They're obsessed with Volkswagens these days.

Despite my better judgment, I wore my silly knock-off boots from Target with my rolled up jeans ... totally dorkified and not remotely chic. Like women in these parts need to be wearing boots, it's so not cold enough. Feeling sort of absurd in my "trend on it's way out," I wasn't expecting what happened next. My sweet husband, unaware of my insecurity, commented on them as we got the kids out of the car:

"I think you look cute in those boots."

When you're with a person long enough they start to know what you're thinking ...

We were so tired from our mall jaunt that I decided to whip up a quick dinner a la Vons. My store is WinCo, so Vons is always an eye-bulging experience for me. But it's close and the deli selection is good. I grabbed a roasted chicken and heirloom tomatoes to toss over romaine, pre-made tortilla soup and french bread. I also found freezer paper. This is important for a future post involving crafts. Score, freezer paper!!!

Our babies napped as I prepared our Vons cuisine and the Beatles wafted through the house. I've been gathering decorations that I've had around the house for Thanksgiving, so I grabbed a few candles for the table. We don't normally dine by candlelight, no, normally it's Liam's mission in life to turn on every light in the house. But tonight's soft glow made me feel warm and happier than I've felt in while.

Later we ate chocolate cake and strawberries, prompting the blonde boy to say:

"I sure do like cake."

New Moon madness

2009-11-21T10:23:00.000-08:00

The 33-year-old stood in the cold with mostly young girls wearing official Twilight gear thinking: this freakin' movie better live up to the hype.

The movie was OK, mostly over-the-top, but fun to see at midnight nonetheless. I've read the books and enjoy the overall romance of the series, but I wouldn't classify myself as a crazed super fan. I feel mostly dorky for even reading novels meant for chaste 13-year-olds. Seeing the next installment on the big screen meant that I could escape the confines of motherhood for several magical hours AT NIGHT, and hang out with some of my girls. It was fun.

Here I am in a shirt I made for the occasion. I'm not truly obsessed or I'd own an Edward and Bella doll. But I may or may not have the king-sized Twilight sheets.

Dinner before the movie.

Waiting outside, where I kept eyeballing my sister's Starbucks.

Waiting for the cheese-fest to start. We laughed so hard at a few scenes. I think I snorted at one point.

More pictures from the summer vault

2009-11-16T16:03:00.000-08:00

It's official, the kid can go on the pot now

2009-11-15T17:39:00.000-08:00

Liam and the toilet have become one, and we couldn't be more relieved. It's been an exhausting process, probably the hardest thing yet in this whole "being a parent" gig. I think Liam's results are fairly decent considering we didn't really start until mid-September. He knew about the potty before then, but flatly refused any part of it. Back then he would say, "No potty, diaper change." In hindsight, he may have been doing this because of his new baby brother in the house.

We went through several incarnations while undergoing this process:

Saggy Pull-Up Gangsta (refusing to take off well-used training pants)

Peepee on the Ground Monster ( thinking it was great fun to pee directly on the floor and then laugh hysterically)

Just Call Me Cakes ( the time he put an entire pancake in the back of his Pull-Up and declared, "poopoo pancake."

Mr. A (standing right in front of us and urinating through his clothes, then saying "It's OK, an accident" — the lilt in his voice so endearing.

Liam the Nudist ( striping down and running around with toilet paper.)

Be cool my babies ...

2009-11-07T21:38:00.000-08:00

As a kid I would watch Johnny Carson, the undisputed King of Late Night, on our RCA television during infrequent lapses of parental oversight. I was always a night owl, like my dad. I liked Johnny — his laughter, his wit, the twinkle in his eye — but I never loved a TV man until there was Conan O'Brien.

I was watching "Late Night" when it WASN'T cool to watch "Late Night," always because the rangy redhead at the helm gave a nerd like me hope. That, and he made me laugh. When David and me were on part of our honeymoon in New York we almost went to a taping at Rockefeller Center. OH, how I wished we had.

But now, after years of dreaming the impossible dream, I have seen my man in the flesh.

Above: Right outside where "The Tonight Show" tapes. That building in the background is the actual studio they renovated for Conan. Pictures are not allowed inside, so this was the best I could get. The security is oddly severe. I felt like I was risking my life snapping this pic — kept waiting for a militant page to give me the heave-ho.

Above: Had to take a picture of our wristbands. Once inside we had THE best seats one could ever ask for: right behind Andy Richter, about seven rows up, perfect for my Conan gawking.

Above: David and me waiting in line. It was hot on Tuesday, hence the misters in the background. After a hilarious monologue, the guests for the night were: Neil Patrick Harris, Paul Teutul Sr. (mean old guy from American Choppers) and musical guest Creed.

Above: My friends Stef and Mike tagged along.

After the show we ate at Micelli's down the road. The piano man (not Billy Joel) was right across from our table. Then a waiter sang "Mona Lisa." I contemplated the night's events over chicken piccanti and a Pepsi. Mike and I discussed the difference between the New York show vs the L.A. show. We all laughed. Then we drove over the Grapevine.

Batman and Superbaby

2009-11-04T21:25:00.000-08:00

At first the blond boy refused to put on the costume. Then Superbaby swooped in all hero-like and suddenly it was cool to don the cape.

The hero posse then attended the much-overrated church carnival, where many a lame gory get-up lurked. Batman waited to pounce on a bouncy slide three times only to decide the treachery was just too much to bear.

Then a pirate girl joined the fun.

After awhile the superheroes grew tired of the masses and started for home in their hybrid-mobile.

Once safely home, Superbaby and Batman went trick-or-treating down the lane. At one house where teenagers frolicked Batman was invited in to the party — he politely declined. "Thank you. Bye-bye."

Oh, just another quiet night with the family ...

2009-10-30T19:18:00.000-07:00

Ghetto gourds

2009-10-19T20:34:00.000-07:00

I should have known when I first spotted the shoddy trailer** with a makeshift snack bar that this pumpkin patch wasn't the most festive place. We were the only ones there, and the attendants never came out of their shadowy lair. The broke-down train looked sad as my kid skipped around shouting, "pumpkins!" We did our thing and only bought a small pumpkin that he picked out.

**I would have documented it but something told me I better not.

A consumerist's mecca

2009-10-13T16:14:00.000-07:00

The Target around the corner from my house opened last week, and I can't tell you how happy this has made me. The hordes descended per usual, but I believe this magical land of useless crap will be less busy than the other store I frequented. But in typical southwest fashion I may have to slalom through pushy rich broads to get a latte at the in-house Starbucks.

The boys and me checked it out on Sunday night. We took pictures because we are mega geeks.

I'm digging the new cart design. Gus' baby carrier fits in the front part and it's easier to push the thing.

Four years beotches!

2009-10-11T21:35:00.000-07:00

Four years married: almost 10 years together = ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

Mama and Daddy (a.k.a. Cindy and David) did it up, Bako-style for our fourth wedding anniversary on Thursday. It was unequivocally Bako because we dined at Red Lobster, which isn't my favorite place in the world. Although I have been known to smuggle out the errant cheddar biscuit in my purse. But the way I see it, special occasions and chain restaurants go together about as good as Obama at a steakhouse. Despite the overly salted food, we enjoyed ourselves. Afterward we saw "Whip It," giggling amid handfuls of Reese's Pieces and Milk Duds. We got a little goofy with the iPhone after the flick. Being away from your parental responsibilities for a couple of hours will do that to ya.

October is THE best month to get married in. Congrats to my fellow October alums: Brock and Melissa and the newly minted Arlene and Guillermo. We're just waiting on Korinna now!

All that and we missed Rick Springfield

2009-10-08T14:58:00.000-07:00

One upon a time a family went to the county fair.

The bigger boy chatted with tortoises and insisted mightily that the big albino snake was not to be touched.

But he liked wearing the cowboy hat.

And milking the plastic cow.

And riding the mini-tractor.

Liam eats a corn dog.

He picked the caboose on his first fair ride.

And Gus just chilled in the stroller.

Cabral-Sifuentes wedding

2009-10-03T21:52:00.000-07:00

The girl who taught me how to clean yogurt machines when I was 17 years old got married today. A lace gown. Warm chocolate eyes. Latin symbolism. Overall a beautiful day.

Potatoes

2009-09-27T11:22:00.000-07:00

He explained each part to the smaller boy.

Moments

2009-09-18T12:04:00.000-07:00

Last week signaled a few "firsts" worth mentioning.

1. August started eating purees. The kid was starving and one day just flat out said, "Listen lady, I really need some sweet potatoes." Here he is awaiting another gourmet lunch courtesy of Gerber.

2. My mom and dad went on whirlwind Harley trip to the Pacific Northwest. In this picture my dad and uncle make their way from Astoria, Ore., toward Washington state. I believe this is the Columbia River.

3. My little man rolled over on to his back — AND I ACTUALLY GOT TO WITNESS IT! I didn't get to see Liam do this because I was already back to work full time. I was speechless so we took a picture to commemorate.

Just call me Jake ... Jake LaMotta

2009-09-12T22:39:00.000-07:00

A little boxer with a calm spirit.

Liam's Chicken 'N' Waffles

2009-09-08T11:25:00.000-07:00

As you may know, Chicken and waffles originated in Harlem and was made famous on the West Coast by Roscoe's House of Chicken' N Waffles in Los Angeles. I've never had the pleasure of eating there, but I have tried it here in Bakersfield. I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with Liam and comfort food was my middle name. I remember David saying we should try to make a movie before the baby came (who knows when we'd ever get to go again), and me being hugely pregnant and hugely hungry suggested we try this new Southern restaurant before the show. I think I licked every last drop of syrup off the plate. Satisfied with our new culinary find (J's Place on Ming Avenue) we headed for our matinee: "The Departed." I'm not sure if it was the waffles or Scorsese, but my little man kicked throughout the entire film. So, I've been meaning to make this dish since Liam was born, but never had the right mix of gumption to get it done until now. This one's for my baby.

Liam's Chicken 'N' Waffles

Serves about four

2 large chicken breasts cut into pieces

1 cup buttermilk

1 1/2 cups of panko

salt

Krusteaz waffle mix

syrup

butter

Cut breasts into pieces and let them soak in buttermilk for about an hour. Add a dash of salt to mixture. Dredge pieces in panko then fry in vegetable oil until crispy. Serve with waffles/butter/syrup.

We do a lot of "breakfast for dinner" and this is a great dish for kids.

Sunday morning snaps

2009-08-03T10:52:00.001-07:00

Johnson & Johnson take me away ...

2009-08-01T13:47:00.001-07:00

You've never seen so many smiles and coos in you life until you see my little man taking a bath. If he's cranky I draw a bath — problem solved. If I'm having a tough mommy day, I give this kid a bath to remind myself that it's all worth it.

Somebody stole my baby ...

2009-07-27T11:12:00.000-07:00

Help me. My kid is growing like a weed. A weed sucking up huge amounts of hose water. His plump cheeks are thinning out, soon he'll be all little boy. He's even getting blond hairs on his legs. He's changing right before our eyes and yet it's taken me looking through pictures from March to catch on. When August came home I noticed how big Liam was in comparison, but I think that happens to everyone who brings a newborn into a once-solitary toddler abode.

His appearance isn't the only thing changing. He's doing all sorts of "little boy" things. WHO'S TEACHING MY CHILD THE WAYS OF THE GROWN-UP WORLD? Oh, yeah ... I forgot, the kid is semi-brilliant. The other day he informed me that my name was "Mama Gardner." If you're thinking of puking right now ... you obviously don't have kids. Every parent thinks their child is the smartest in all of the land. It's true and it will happen to you if you don't have one yet. I promise. He's always doing things to amaze us. Recently I snapped a picture of him concentrating on something he was drawing. When I approached he said, "Drawing an elephant." I expected to see some scribbles and such, but what I saw ... floored me. IT WAS A FREAKIN' ELEPHANT!

Since our boy has started preschool he's been painting, doodling and drawing nonstop. We decided to start a mural in his playroom of his artwork. I've put aside some that we'll frame, but why let the others collect dust in some random box in the garage. He looks forward to helping Mom hang up his masterpieces after school. Mom does too.

That's one cute groupie

2009-07-25T17:06:00.000-07:00

August joined my friend Kori and me for our friends' gig last week. The kid never cried despite the steamy conditions on the leather sofa we plopped down on. It was 100 degrees outside. Check out Near Miss Mallet here. August gives the band two chubby thumbs up.

Rocker hair

2009-07-22T11:25:00.000-07:00

Perfect attendance

2009-06-27T21:38:00.000-07:00

He walked to the glass doors without hesitation, bounding in with gusto. It was the first day of school. Two and a half and already hitting the books. Well, maybe not the books, more like the finger paints and glue.

Liam started school on June 2, 2009 and he hasn't looked back. It was a hectic week with everything going on around him. His baby brother wailing through the night (and day). His dad working crazy hours. His mom sometimes crying just because. He's playing well with other kids and learning so much, even if he has a shaggy haircut and his name isn't Jackson.

OK, OK ... so he goes to a preppy preschool on the other side of town where almost every male child has a faux hawk and kids sport names like Jackson, Riley and Madison. I only picked this place because there were spots available and they didn't care if he crapped his shorts. And, my niece goes there and has reported of delicious snack foods.

The first day was hilarious. We stroll up and I'm noticing that all the kids hopping out of SUVs have backpacks and lunch sacks. Even the 2-year-olds. My kid is carrying one of my old canvas tote bags I got from a copy editing workshop. OH, no! I was already turning out to be that mom. You know, the one that convinces her kid that nonconformity is cool as they dream of Disney paraphernalia. (I later rectified the situation my getting him a nondescript backpack and a Transformers lunch sack.)

Giddy with the prospect of getting to play with kids that weren't his relatives overtook him as we glided down the hall to his classroom. Some kids cry. I knew my kid wouldn't, he's that independent. But what happened next cracked us up. Liam walked in, scanning the scene. There were a couple of little girls playing together on the floor and that's it. He walks toward them, then suddenly turns back around and heads toward the door shouting, "Help, help, help!" His teacher has said he's extremely polite with the girls in his class. And apparently, he's learning to share with the boys. There are only 3 or 4 other boys and I get the feeling that Liam is leader of the pack from what his teacher says.

He's grown so much in the last two months. All of sudden there's this little person, talking with his hands, furrowing his brow as he discusses vacuum cleaners in Target. It's amazing.

Before August was born, Liam was in full-blown Terrible Twos. Throwing himself on the ground if he as so much as heard the word "no," not staying in the timeout chair, lobbing cans of instant breakfast from the shopping cart. He's not completely out the woods but he's getting there. I'm able to be alone with him and the baby now. That wasn't always the case.

Jealous of the new baby? Maybe for half a second. He's the consummate big brother. Alerting us when August cries or trying to give him his pacifier. However, if August's wailing gets too much, he holds up his hand in protest and simply says, "too loud." Our only scary moment was when August was about 2 weeks old. After using the restroom I found the baby on the ground and Liam looking awfully guilty. I should have known he would "try" to pick him up on his own.

Baby G is now Baby Gus

2009-06-09T22:09:00.000-07:00

Introducing ... August Penn Gardner

The day August decided to brave the world started like any other Saturday. David went to work at the crack of dawn while Liam and me snuggled in our California king. Baby G wasn't due to come out for another four days or so and I was convinced he'd stay put until at least Monday. Just about everyone had made plans for the weekend not thinking this kid would make an entrance. So when my eyes snapped open around 7 a.m. I thought, "Uh oh, oh crap!" I remembered from my first pregnancy that labor started with dull, achy cramps and that's exactly what I felt when I walked to the bathroom.

7 a.m.

Sometime in the 7 o'clock hour I called David. He had a slew of patients scheduled and I prepared myself for the possibility that he'd miss the birth of his second child. He told me to call my mom and keep him updated. Thankfully my mom answered her phone.

9 a.m.

My mother, the godsend, came over to help with Liam when the first wave of "real" contractions started. I think I handled these contractions better this time around not only because I knew what to expect but because my mom was close by. I call it biology magic. She brought Liam breakfast and packed a bag for him and I got in the shower. Moms just know.

Flashback: My granny Vera Viola scrubbed my mother's house with bleach before the birth of my brother. When my sister wouldn't stop crying as a newborn, granny suggested giving her a little watermelon juice because my mother craved them during her pregnancy. I guess it worked.

10 a.m. to noon:

We'll just call this part of the day — Panic Time. My contractions were all over the place. Some were 10 minutes apart and some were 20 minutes. My doctor told me NOT to wait until they were 5 minutes apart because I was already almost 4 cm dilated and 80-90 percent effaced. When my mother timed them at 5 minutes ... it was a mad dash to leave the house. My hair was still wet as we set out for the hospital. A call into David wasn't so good. His backup co-worker couldn't be reached. Then, just as I felt a conniption cresting, the contractions stopped. Huh? So instead we went to my sister's house not far from the hospital.

At the hospital:

Eventually we decided to head to the hospital after David was finally able to leave work. They hooked me up to a monitor and my contractions were still off the rails on a crazy train. But, man, they were hurting like hell. The nursing staff was busy, so no one came to "check me" for a while, which turned out to be like 2 hours. I cried a bit during one of the last contractions before a nurse came in to do the deed. I remember thinking, "Good, now these bitches can get me my epidural!" My mom, sister and David were there during this time. My nurse looked at me and asked me to guess how much I was dilated to. I was in no mood to play "Who Wants to Be a Millionaire." I just shook my head. I WAS ALREADY AT 8 CM. She immediately rushed to the door and yelled out to her compatriots, "Prepare for delivery!!!"

WHAT? Delivery? I haven't got my epidural, people. Delivery? Huh?

Then a ton of people flooded in unwrapping "delivery" stuff, poking me with needles. It didn't look like an epidural was possible considering I'd passed the window. (Between 4 and 8 centimeters). They offered me some other drug for my IV — which hurt like hell after they tried about 10 times to secure a vein — but I didn't want to be loopy, so I said no. So, when my doctor was unexpectedly called away to a C-section, my rockstar nurse hooked me up with the fastest epidural the world has ever known. But my bliss didn't last for long ... Once Dr. Tan came back to break my water it was time to push. And they back off the epidural once that part starts. But, I was glad for small respite, nonetheless.

On my eighth push, Baby G came out, all 10 pounds of him. His size and amount of hair surprising the entire room.

NICU Nightmare

Because August was a 10-pounder the doctor/nurses wanted to keep an eye on his blood sugar level. It was a little low, so they asked if they could give him a bit of formula to get it up. We let them. August's blood sugar was good after a few gulps of the formula, but the pediatrician on call wanted him to go to NICU for the night to monitor it. We were worried so we agreed, never thinking our baby would be held for ransom in the coming days.

The next day, his levels were excellent, but they had started him on antibiotics as a precaution and wouldn't let him go until the next day. We didn't agree to antibiotics, but it's their policy. One night of monitoring turned into 5 days of hell. We have since concluded that our healthy baby was being held ransom because we have PPO insurance and all those NICU nurses need a paycheck. Of course the neonatologist and staff always had some reason they needed to keep him there. All of which were bogus. My dad called and complained and the next day August was discharged, but not before an emotional breakdown, countless trips from Rio Bravo, restless nights and wasted bonding time. Most of the nurses were good, though. Our favorite looked like actress Alyson Hannigan of "Buffy" fame. She truly cared about those babies in there. One day we arrived to find her washing August's hair because his first bath was a rush job. She told us she didn't want him to have "stinky neck" and said she'd noticed his hair wasn't completely clean.

It was no fun seeing our perfectly healthy baby hooked up to an IV. And to top off an already crappy situation, our hospital bill hovered around $8,000. Lesson to the masses: Never let your baby go to the NICU for something as minor as "monitoring." Make them come to your room and check your baby.

August is home and life is crazy, but at least he's here. We can't imagine life without him.

The Blackberry Chronicles

2009-05-15T08:50:00.000-07:00

He descended on me and my bowl of blackberries, repeating his happy phrase, "nummie, nummie, nummie!" I was laughing so hard I think I pulled a groin muscle, but was able to snap these pics before I peed myself.

Just waiting on Baby G

2009-05-12T14:03:00.000-07:00

My rotundness on Mother's Day. I got a spa package ... so girly, whaaaa? I was really craving margaritas and nickel slots on that day.

Liam gettin' funky with washable markers. Since I've been off work it's been a challenge to find things for the monkey child to do. We're trying to find a routine.

My very round face after a recent doctor's appointment. I hate appointments at the sausage factory. Just let me show up and push this kid out, will ya!

Mr. G at the park on his only day off last week. He's bringing home the work-like-a-slave bacon and I love him.

29 months: Zen and the art of toddler maintenance

2009-05-09T01:00:00.001-07:00

Dear Liam,

Two universal truths we have learned in recent months: 1) It's not easy having the most active kid on the block. 2) It's not easy having the smartest kid on the block. It's true that every parent likes to think their kid is truly exceptional in the smarts department, and I'm no different, but sometimes thinking and actually having are two separate things. I have a smart kid and you'll be surpassing my pursuits I'm sure. Heck, you already are, even at age 2.

All kids are curious by nature — exploring their worlds, getting into stuff they're not supposed to — but you take this to a whole new level. Combine this natural curiosity and brain power and POOF ... a Liam is born. Some kids get into cleaners, potions and chemicals for household tasks, sometimes taste-testing the goods before a crazed mom comes running in to stop them. This is not you. You know exactly what said potions are for and begin to go to work. Comet? No problem ... you'll start sprinkling it in the sink or in the toilet. Liquid hand soap? You'll be obliged to pump several squirts into your hands and rub. Although, when you get into my face creams and makeup, you tend to just paint the counters or mirror. Once or twice I've seen you grab a blush brush and swipe your cheeks.

Your observations and logic astound your dad and me. We're glad you're so heady, but sometimes wish you'd slow down so we can catch our breath.

Case in point. We've started to get you acquainted with potty training. It's going OK. You know what the potty is and will sit on it and carry it around, but that's about it. You're constantly pulling at your diaper and/or pull-up, and sometimes we'll find you completely stripped down, running amok. So yesterday I was trying to make dinner and you decide that being naked sounded like fun. To make it that much more fun, you decided to escape through the french doors in our bedroom and frolic in the backyard. I'm 9 months pregnant in lounge wear minus a bra chasing a wild banshee boy as a gaggle of youngish golfers waiting to tee off look on. Oh, what fun!

All this energy envelops you, even on outings. You talk to strangers — in stores, at the drive-through, car wash, even at stop lights. People seem drawn to you. Sometimes, I'm not in the mood to carry on a chat, but you always seem to be. And you're so happy, and smile a lot. But, with that said, you've started to "test" our mettle with an occasional fit. I was notorious for my fit-throwing and I believe you're following in my footsteps. Hopefully, you'll outgrow them like I did (for the most part). I have THE worst temper and it takes work to keep it under control.

Baby G is due to arrive any day now and I'm wondering how everything will go down. You're going to be a big brother and I'm so excited. Let's see if you will be too.

She calls this her Cindy outfit

2009-04-23T22:50:00.000-07:00

My friend Stef, otherwise known as fashionista editor Miss D, showed up in quite the ensemble at work. Snappy dresses, colorful stockings, sparkly shoes usually sashay up the newspaper aisles — very fem chic, she is — but not today! She was clearly channeling my boyish impishness. I'm addicted to jeans. But leave it to her to crank it up a notch by adding a punch of color. Pink shoes are cool, but only on Miss D.

I was trying to pose her — the reason her megawatt smile is clearly missing here.

Snow-globe shakeup

2009-04-18T23:19:00.001-07:00

The older I get the more I think about growing up in the '80s. Saturday-morning cartoons, Duran Duran, Bob's Big Boy ... weekly treks to the video store. The hallowed VCR — our sanctuary on Friday nights. "Falcon Crest" wasn't big in our house. We wanted MOVIES! So my dad would drive us to our video store (independently owned mind you) to pick up a movie, two if we were splurging. Every '80s one-off movie I've seen probably came from that store on Niles Street. I distinctly remember how excited we were to bring home "A Night In the Life of Jimmy Reardon." River Phoenix with big hair, what could be better, right? WRONG. The movie sucked. But "going to the video store" became an institution in our house and my memories surrounding it are some of the best I have. And I guess that leads me into this post: making memories out of ordinary things.

With Baby G due to arrive in a month, we've had quite the schedule at our house. We're staring down a new dirt road and I can't help but feel like others around me are too. Dirt roads may evoke a negative image for some, but not me ... I love a rutty dirt road. But with that said, the crossroads for some are harder to bear. The newspaper laid off 25 more people recently, breaking the the hearts of many of my journalism friends. I blame Twitter. Just kidding — only slightly. Also, my dad was forced into "early retirement" thanks to a lackluster oil industry. Forty years of grit all for a so-so severance and "Hey, it's been swell." But that's OK. Dad's dirt road is paved in Oregon green. He'll finally get to build his hot rod and bask in four seasons.

To take our minds off the rigmarole of a bad economy, we've sought out our own affordable adventures — when we have a rare day off together.

Here's David and Liam checking out "duckies" at our zoo, otherwise known as CALM. The boy was agog at all the animals, and loved it when a goat licked his hand.

And speaking of animals ... this neighborhood cat has taken a liking to Mistar Blond — Liam's latest nickname, courtesy of Mom. As you can see, this cat is huge and likes to chase you. It waits for Hot Dog to come out and play on most days.

Like most media-obsessed Americans, we have our shows we faithfully record. "Lost" is getting good this season — finally. But I'm afraid "American Idol" is a shoddy excuse for entertainment. But we still watch it. But, our reality fix lately can be summed up in one word, Dog. David recorded a "Dog, the Bounty Hunter" marathon, and it was like watching that first batch of "Sopranos" episodes. We were glued to the TV. For Halloween this year, he'll go as Dog and I'm gonna rock the hell out of Beth, that's all I'm saying.

Another adventure on the cheap was a drive to Kernville for a day of winding roads, river revelry, breezy air and a French dip at the cafe.

Here's David and Liam contemplating the rapids.

We've also discovered Fresh & Easy markets. I LOVE THIS PLACE. They actually have "hybrid-only" parking near the front. Oh, and their hummus is the best.

Liam update: He's all about robots these days, calling everything that remotely looks like one, "a robota." David picked out a toddler version of Optimus Prime and we also got him "Wall-E" on Blu-Ray. Hopefully these items will give him solace when his whole world is shaken like a snow globe in a month.

Shining faces and Robin Eggs

2009-04-14T22:28:00.000-07:00

33 weeks

2009-04-09T18:36:00.000-07:00

Just call me Mama HD — Humpty Dumpty. With seven weeks to go, we're kickin' around a few name ideas, but it's hard. Nonetheless, we can't wait to meet our Baby G.

taken at 1 a.m. last night

28 weeks

2009-03-17T22:59:00.000-07:00

I wasn't lying when I said I'd be more prudent in the whole documenting the belly process. I'm actually about done with my 30th week, but am behind with the posts. This is me at 28 weeks, and yes, the belly is HUGE. It's not huge in the stick straight out sort of way, but rotund is a great descriptor in this case. I am definitely showing a lot more this go-around. Mom literature on the subject says this is quite normal with subsequent pregnancies. I know one thing, Baby G likes to move, especially while I'm on deadline at work.

Chick-fil-A and other essentials

2009-03-09T22:54:00.000-07:00

The last two months have been a whirlwind of activity for us — that's why I haven't updated the blog since Jan. 24 or so. I've composed about 95 posts in my head, but never managed to find the time to sit down and type them up. Hey, I'm just giddy we actually hooked the new Mac Daddy, aka, my Surprise Christmas Swag.

Let's see, what has happened recently: We moved, David finished training in L.A. for new job, got iPhones for said new job, which I still haven't mastered, gained 10 pounds, had brush with gestational diabetes, celebrated my 33rd birthday, oh yeah ... I worked through it all. I'm so tired.

But today I felt my second wind coming on, and that sudden burst of energy was due to one thing, and one thing only: Chick-fil-A. I drove across town and waited in a line of cars that snaked through the parking lot ... yes ... in the name of THE BEST CHICKEN SANDWICH THE WORLD HAS EVER KNOWN. Even Liam was basking in the Southern pickle yumminess. This isn't a pregnancy thing ... we used to have one in the mall years ago and I loved going there. For someone who doesn't eat hamburgers, this place is like fast-food mecca.

A few shots of the last two months:

Grammie squares

2009-01-24T16:22:00.000-08:00

Classic Americana crafts are making a comeback and I'm stuck on sidelines. It seems like everyone but me can work yarn or thread. I can't sew, crochet, knit, or needpoint. I'd be hard pressed to sew a single button. Fifty years ago, every self-respecting girl learned some sort of craft. What happened to that tradition? It's gone, just like Sunday dinners at Grandma's house. Some of my best memories as kid involve my Granny sewing something by hand in her little house on Kentucky Street. I don't really remember what she was creating, if anything, maybe just sewing up a seam or something, but it left an impression. My mom used to lug out this beast of sewing machine on our dinner table on occasion, while I played with the avocado-green sewing box, chock-full of colorful buttons and patches. In our throwaway society, a sewing box is a cultural relic, talked about like milk bottles left on doorsteps.

But a renaissance is happening now, and I'll be damned if I miss out this time around. David's step-mom made us this beautiful afghan for Christmas, so you see, inspiration is all around me. I'm not sure I'd have the patience for knitting or crocheting, but sewing does appeal to me.

Motivation — check. Inspiration — check. Sewing machine — need to go get one.

My first project should I actually buy or inherit a machine will be these cloth baby shoes. Wish me luck.

From the archives ...

2009-01-21T21:35:00.000-08:00

I was going through iPhoto and came across these cute pics of Liam BH (before haircut) and BD (bink dependent). As you know, he's an avid follower of all things mom and dad so it's not unusual for him to grab a dish towel and start pretend-drying his hands or grab the fetal doppler to listen to his belly. Most days he entertains himself with nondescript household items like a stolen spatula from the dishwasher or a cupcake baking pan. I tell David we should just stop buying toys altogether.

B is for beautiful beads

2009-01-20T22:17:00.000-08:00

OK, so I'm still pimping our Christmas gifts ... It's just that I was so happy this year to have been on the receiving end of vintage and handmade gifts. I get all warm and fuzzy thinking about hands toiling away on a gift for me. This was the year of the handmade gift — hooray!

First up, these beautifully intricate beads made by HIV positive mothers or refugees. My mother-in-law bought these for me, knowing how much I'd treasure their origin. The beads are made out of recycled paper, and the nonprofit organization is called BeadforLife.

"1.2 billion people around the world — one out of every five people alive — struggle to survive on less than $1 a day. After paying the beaders fair trade prices for their work, all net proceeds from this sale are invested in programs that fight extreme poverty in the areas of health, housing, sustainable livelihood and education."

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall ...

2009-01-15T22:42:00.000-08:00

(Disclaimer: The last time I was pregnant I didn't document the belly progress very well so I'm trying to do better this go-around. Baby G will have more photographic in-the-womb evidence than Liam. Whoops. Shuddering right now thinking that everyone can see my chunk in all its glory.)

One of the truly great things about not being, pardonez moi Francais, a skinny bitch is that when you're pregnant you can still wear normal clothes well into your third trimester. Although, my jeans are starting to dig into my gut while I sit a work.

Go vintage or go home

2009-01-10T21:15:00.000-08:00

Liam got this old pedal car for Christmas. (Thank you Mike and Debra.) As an antique fanatic and mom-who-hates-loud-light-up-pieces-of-plastic-laden-in-lead, I couldn't be happier. Not only will this little car see endless hours of pedaling, it'll look great as kitschy decor in his future big-boy room.

To hear David's dad tell the story, it all started when David was a little boy. He looked and looked for one but came up empty. I'm sure these days a quick eBay search would bear fruit, but that sort of robs it of the specialness, don't you think? Thirty years later, this car was found at an antique store and given a fresh coat of paint for a much-beloved grandson.

Crazy urges

2009-01-07T22:52:00.000-08:00

I haven't been a BIG Gulper for years, but Baby G has undoubtedly re-stoked the soda urge. Here's the kicker: CAFFEINE ISN'T ALLOWED sayeth the OB/GYN gods. Oh, if they only knew how I crave Coca-Cola. This is strange considering I've always been partial to Pepsi. And the neurosis doesn't stop there. I have to have it from the bottle — a small bottle. I swear it tastes different, people. Alas, I've only bought one six-pack and made it last for two weeks. I almost lost them, though ... there was the stove, flour sprinkling and cussing ... a funny story for another time. Needless to say, I've been craving stuff I'm not supposed to have. I bought the pickle from the Green Frog deli. Best. Pickle. Ever.

And oddly enough, I've been getting seriously cozy with smoked salmon and fresh pineapple.

There's a food thief in our midst

2009-01-06T23:01:00.000-08:00

Liam (Li-am) n. [Gaelic, nord. < alternate of William] 1. a boy who lives in house 2. Part child part lemur 3. scribe with an affinity for writing paraphernalia 4. mother-described bon vivant 5. undercover food cleptomaniac.

The boy's climbing prowess has only aided his quest for all things delicious. Cookies, which we keep stashed on the counter, have become his passion. He'll point to them and say, "Toot-tee" and then dance a jig. One day we found him perched on the counter eating one he had fished out of the bag. His agility knows no bounds.

One morning I prepped some strawberries for us. I cut up several for Liam, put them in bowl and left a rather plump one on the cutting board — a treat for Mama. I left the kitchen for maybe 45 seconds and guess what I found on my return? A strawberry bandit.

Over the weekend we attended a bandito birthday bash and the food scofflaw struck again. I was talking with fellow moms when out of the corner of my eye I see him hunkered over a batch of cookies in the shape of the No. 2. They were supposed to be off-limits until the singing and dessert portion of the party. I run over to grab him, but the damage had been done. He'd taken a bite out of one and placed it back on the heap. Embarrassing. We truly do feed the kid, I promise.

Baby G and the new year

2009-01-01T20:13:00.000-08:00

So, it's official. I do not know the sex of the baby growing inside of me. (My sister's annoyed guffaw can currently be heard throughout the lands.)

We had a wonderful Christmas, full of surprise gifts and Liam squeals. Visited with family, drove the 99, then folded ourselves into clean sheets. The next day was THE DAY. Ultrasound day. Turns out, David was scheduled to work, so I had to go it alone. We decided awhile back to let nature run its course and not find out the gender. So, in a sense, it was better that Daddy not go — sometimes the nursing skills can trump the daddy skills.

The technician seemed pleasantly surprised with my revelation, and I hoped she'd be able to keep the pronouns in check throughout the scan, which she did beautifully. She told me to close my eyes at one point. Baby G flashed me the peace sign once and kept doing somersaults. I saw two tiny feet tilted together, toes intermingling. It's an amazing thing, seeing your baby move around in there. People have asked whether I have "mother's intuition" about the gender. I had an inkling with Liam and I have one with Baby G. But since we're playing surprise party, I'll keep that one just for me. Maybe there could be an office pool.

Mama got the 24-inch iMac ...

2008-12-25T21:15:00.000-08:00

My crazy husband surprised me with a new computer on Christmas. Crazy, crazy, crazy WONDERFUL man.

24 months: Bon vivant

2008-12-06T19:23:00.000-08:00

Dear Liam,

Very soon you'll turn 2 years old and to be quite honest, I'm still hazy on some of details of that misty day 24 months ago when they pulled you out looking green and bluish. It's not that I can't remember, but more of how I remember. The memories seem like they're coated in warm honey, slightly blurry, except for one. You looking at me. That one is distinct. I feel with everything I've got, and I think you're just like me. Don't ever be afraid of feeling "too much."

To everyone's chagrin, you have perfected the Cindy scowl: eyebrows furrowed, puckered lips. You've started to do it even when you're not mad about something. It's charming really, but I prefer your infectious cherub smile. You don't like hearing the word "no," and will start to cry while reaching your hands to your mouth as if someone bopped you one. But luckily you get over things quickly.

Olives and avocados are your latest foods du jour. But the olives can't be sliced and must be placed on the tips of your fingers before you'll eat them and you're a stickler for a pristine avocado — no browning wedges! You are a pint-sized bon vivant and I sort of dig it. Nothing wrong with having a sophisticated palate I say. But those sugar-free popsicles sure do come in handy.

Until very recently you've been no talk and all action, which doesn't help when your pregnant working mama just wants to sit on the sofa for two seconds. I don't worry about your speech development, reminding you and others that Einstein didn't speak until he was 3. You understand everything we say, maybe too much. Perhaps you'll dazzle us next week with a Shakespearian monologue, who knows. You're that unpredictable. You're also very interested in all things music. Wonder where you get that from ... You'll break into smiles and dance whenever a ditty is near. And holy smokes, if Social Distortion's "Story of My Life" isn't your favorite. I've never seen a person get so animated when they hear a tune. We may have you dancing to this song on video, I can't remember. There's also a funny clip of you grooving to an old Rolling Stones song. Oh, and you're favorite books seem to be "Curious George."

I've been struggling with the world lately. So much tumult and sadness. It's hard to stay positive about your future. Then I remember God's promise and I'm relieved. His plan for you is there. As a Hebrew name, Liam means "my people; I have a nation." The German meaning evokes the words will, desire, helmet and protection. You are destined to do great things in your life, Liam. Every day I watch you explore and interpret your world and it never ceases to astonish me. I love you.

Mama

Rizzo's got another bun in the oven ...

2008-11-21T17:58:00.000-08:00

Bye-bye baby mullet

2008-10-31T22:51:00.000-07:00

At about 22 months old, the boy went for his first haircut. At first he tried eyeballin' the clippers, then relaxed and watched SpongeBob. The crying didn't come until later ... when it was time to exit the fire engine seat.

21 months — Pen & Puzzle Man

2008-10-11T17:45:00.000-07:00

Dear Liam,

Toys don't seem to interest you these days. Occasionally you'll erect these enormous avant-garde tower things with blocks, or play with your cars, but most of the other "kiddie" toys sit lonely in your box. Although, you seem to have a special place in your heart for your farmhouse. The other day I had to move it from the fireplace so you could put together your wooden puzzles and you balked at this notion. But I moved it to the other side of room anyway, thinking you were just being overprotective. I left you to your puzzles and walked in the other room and the next thing I know you're carting that farmhouse back over to the fireplace. You methodically flipped it over on its side in front of the bricks, then proceeded to sit on it to begin your puzzling. Your little mind amazes me.

But I'm not the only one wowed by your pursuits. Your Nana Shirl was agog one night as she watched you tackle a puzzle meant for 3-year-olds and up. You don't do the typical "let's see if this piece matches this space" method — but rather, you examine a piece then examine the board and make the appropriate match every time. And you've been doing this for a while now. If only you would start using your words more ...

You have your own crayons and squeal with excitement when I roll out the rice paper for you. But on more than one occasion you've found the stash of Crayolas and decided they made for nice snacks. Blue and red — you seem to enjoy. You're so fast at climbing now that it only takes me turning my back for you to conquer the kitchen table, counters, hallway cabinets and desk. I found you merrily scribbling on the computer screen with a green crayon the other day. And yes, the crayons were put up in the desk, but you knew exactly where they were.

A Picasso with the average black ink pen. Only instead of paper, you drew all over your legs and feet, then pointed to the drawings and said, "Uncle, uncle ..." I think your Uncle Shawn's tattoos have had an impression on you.

"Shrek" is no longer on continuous play. You're obsessed with "Wow, Wow Wubbzy" now. It's about the only time you'll sit still. The show is all about problem-solving, maybe that is what's been indoctrinating you. Also, you hate "The View" — you're probably not alone on this, but sometimes I want to watch it and you won't have it. To distract me, you crawl on me, start shouting and mess with the water spout in the fridge door. I plead with you and all I get is laughter. I think you may do the same to your daddy when he tries to watch "Cops."

You were mistaken for a girl for the first time the other day. I was paying a bill and the lady said, "Oh, she's so adorable." I think your long locks had something to do with it. So your daddy and me have decided to get it cut. I'm afraid you'll turn into a 5-year-old though.

Love,
mama

Oh, there will never be another ...

2008-09-27T17:15:00.001-07:00

Fast Eddie is gone, and this girl is sad.
Watching "The Long, Hot Summer" won't be the same.
Thanks for keeping me company all those lonely nights.
I never liked your salad dressing, but you made eating eggs sexy.

The summer of grapes

2008-09-12T23:44:00.000-07:00

It's unbelievable to me that September is here and fall is peeking around the corner. Although I'm no fan of hot and dusty days, I will miss the lazy nights of summer. Walking on cool grass, sipping green tea and watching a "Mad Men" marathon. The boys have eaten so many grapes this year and I will miss that, too.

Three vintage-like wishes

2008-09-09T22:02:00.000-07:00

Someday maybe this vintage gem will hang on my kitchen wall. The Crosley 302 Phone

Magazines and recycling — what could be better?
My 1950's hankering extends to music as well. Diner Jukebox, Select-O-Matic style.

Is this for sale?

2008-09-06T18:25:00.001-07:00

Last weekend we held our yard sale extravaganza and I'm still recovering. An apartment-dweller friend looking to de-clutter suggested the labor fest and I agreed, not knowing how much work would be involved. From making up the signs and posting them to organizing boxes of stuff just hours before the start — the process is draining. I would have been satisfied going to the Salvation Army, but I'm glad I didn't. We made $300 that morning, and my friend cleaned up as well.

Yard saling is as much selling/shopping as it is spectator sport, and the masses did not disappoint. We had the lone scary dude, flashlight in hand, who pounced before we were done setting up; the cultish band of "yard salers" on the hunt for priceless objects (they know each other by first name); the polite families just trying to give their kids a little something extra; the nutjob middle-aged ladies who want everything for 10 cents; and the well-to-do man who only ended up buying a piece of glass from an old frame.

So with our hard-earned cash we embarked on a date night. PF Chang's, "The Dark Night" and a stop by Williams Sonoma and the bookstore rounded out the night. Below is a sampling of what we bought with the yard sale money. Fancy whisk, $19 and the book I've been looking for. Also bought (not pictured): Two books for David and a kit for Sprinkles cupcakes.

Calling all brunettes

2008-09-03T21:53:00.000-07:00

As you know I've been on a NO CHEMICAL kick lately — obsessed with vinegar, going shampoo free and eating organically. So, naturally when I overhear a co-worker rattle off something about reusing coffee grounds on her hair I immediately start thinking of when I will conduct my own experiment! One problem ... I didn't get the proper instructions beforehand.

Fast-forward two days: I'm standing in the shower, the entire upper half of my body caked in Folgers — and I can't rinse the darn stuff out of my hair. After awhile, I give up and use a towel to get the rest off. I was so frustrated by the coffee grounds clinging to my arms that I forgot to rinse out the shower.

"What the hell!" husband says. Whoops.

"You have a kookie wife ..." I say. It smelled really good in there though.

Apparently using the coffee grounds on brunette hair adds depth and shine — if you do it right. I'm plagued with the thickest hair in the West, making removal next to impossible. But my hair did look a bit darker and had instant shine. So if you're low on funds or just looking to give your locks oomph, Folgers can help. Also, the coffee acted like a body scrub, leaving my skin very soft.

For other coffee ground uses click here.

My kind of throwback

2008-08-28T22:56:00.000-07:00

Adele. British import. Good singer. Awesome songwriter. She's beautiful and not a stick figure. Her lyrics are inextricably tied to my psyche. She sings about what I felt like when I was 19 years old; listening to her makes me proud of how far I've come. Plus, she's perfected the mid-C eyeliner I'm obsessed with right now.

Just a little something ...

2008-08-27T22:18:00.000-07:00

I was bored a lot on our camping trip. Yeah, nature is beautiful but after burning through an US Weekly, People and Vanity Fair, this media absorber was pining after the rich campers' flat screens a few spaces down. So, to keep from going insane I grabbed my paper and pen and scribbled this as tree-filtered sun sparkled on my lap.

Campfire secrets,
sticky marshmellows under foot,
tent poles bent on an angry whim.
The trees know.

Clanky pots, sizzling bacon,
fresh coffee in the kettle.
A curmudgeonly camper snickers,
while kids on bicycles pedal hard.

Trespassers change,
weeny roasts long gone,
the sound of crisp voices
replaced by electronics
popping against the black.
The trees know.

Glistening sadness tucked
just behind a blushing meadow.
A chubby squirrel goes covert,
peaking into partially zipped tents.
The birds scatter and screech.
Wildfires rage in distant groves,
valley smog creeps up hillsides
— so close, so thick.

The trees know.

Wordless Wednesday — Mr. Bojangles edition

2008-08-20T20:47:00.000-07:00

If I could knit, I would have ...

2008-08-18T23:27:00.000-07:00

This has been the most productive day off I've had in awhile — I even got to sleep in. Woke up, chugged Foldgers/half n half and unloaded then loaded the dishwasher while Liam kicked it with colby-jack cheese and Ritz in his highchair. Once David woke up from a nap we piled into the car and headed to the bookstore. They didn't have my No. 1 choice so we drove around for a while. I dropped the boys off at home and went to the pet supply store. Talk about a bunch of useless crap. Dogs should not wear clothes. Once home it was time to bathe the dogs. Bigger dog easy-peezy; little dog a cluster fugazzi. But at least they smell fresh and not like dog.

Then we had breakfast for dinner, something I love to do. Some of the best childhood memories I have come from breakfast for dinner nights. Tonight we just had pancakes — the boy's fav. Not to brag, but I fancy myself to be somewhat of a pancake savant. Perfect thickness, perfect color, just the right amount of butter in the pan. If my job gets outsourced to India I think I'll go after a gig as a short-order cook whose sole purpose is make the fluffiest flapjacks in town.

After breakfast for dinner the pooches were dry enough for what we like to call beauty parlor. They don't mind getting brushed, in fact, I think they like it better than getting pet. After sweeping up all the fur/hair from the patio I decided to tackle the dog room. I swept, organized and wiped down the entire room. After all that I was the one who needed a bath.

Even though my day was packed with activities, my mind never stopped. Here's a sampling of random thoughts that came and went throughout the day:

1. Why does David use a different cup or glass anytime he drinks something. Just rinse the one you used before. He has some unfounded phobia about bacteria ...

2. Pregnant girl holding sign on side of road in 100-degree heat needs a brain. Oh, and her baby should be raised by someone else.

3. I wish I liked ice cream more so that a trip to Dewar's wasn't an obscure outing.

4. The eastside mountains were visible today, air must be semi-nondangerous to inhale.

5. Bookstores missing the specific book you go there for are ridiculous.

To the woods we go

2008-08-15T18:18:00.000-07:00

Exploding eggs and dementia

2008-08-13T18:46:00.000-07:00

I almost burned the house down last night. All I wanted were some hard-boiled eggs. I'm on a diet, don't ask.

It all started when I put six eggs in a pot of water and preceded to catch up with "Tori and Dean" and slog through "Flipping Out." Somewhere between the two, Liam stumbled in the room, eyes closed, reaching up for me. Two a.m. rolls around and my arm is numb from the quarter-pounder laying on me, so I carry us both to bed. Next thing I know, I hear David:

"Mommy, uh ..."

It was close to 5 a.m. and the smell of cooked eggs saturated the house. I think it still stinks. And those eggs were the expensive cage-free, organic variety ... damn!

The boys in action

2008-08-12T22:02:00.000-07:00

A band and Bug

2008-08-08T23:15:00.001-07:00

So, Paul's cozied up in my rocker flipping through US Weekly. John's in the tub, one leg dangling over the edge while bubbles waft through the air. George has just put the tea kettle on, and Ringo's chasing my cat from room to room. The British invasion has happened.

It started with an autobiography purchased months ago finally being picked up. My husband opened the door and the Fab Four just waltzed on in. "Abbey Road" and "The White Album" play on endless loops via vinyl. My kid dances a jig. I smile.

I'm not complaining about my new house mates, just setting up the chain of events. So with the Brits in full swing, David decides to finally fulfill a dream. As a little boy living in the East Bay he longed to someday own a VW — I don't understand this, my dream involves a '55 Chevy. I think the boys from the band played a role in our newfound weekend ride. Thanks, mates.

George is my favorite, he can brew tea in my kitchen anytime.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

2008-08-06T17:20:00.001-07:00

1. My la bou swimming at his cousin's birthday party. (La bou is his current nickname).

2. A beautiful mess of sheets, oh and a cat.

3. The place he goes for self reflection.

4. Curiosity silhouetted.