Easter Day 2009

On Easter morning, Dylan hunted for his Easter basket. I know it looks like a pretty ridiculous basket, with no candy, but at this point, he doesn't care, so I figured why get him hyped up on sugar if I don't have to? Believe me, he was happy with what he got!

He was thrilled with the "gummy bears", (which he recently told someone is his favorite food). Actually, they were organic, bunny shaped fruit snacks, but all he knows is they were "YUMMY!" (He looks like he is in a cheesy, over acted commercial for them in this shot!)

We went to my parents house for the day, and Jim's parents also came, so it was just the 7 of us. Our holiday celebrations are pretty quiet. Louder since Dylan came along, but still pretty quiet. It wasn't warm enough to hide the eggs outside, but Mi-Mi had them hidden in the living room and patio.

Of course, both sets of grandparents spoiled him, so he got a lot of stuff, but his favorite had to be the Elmo, who sings the ABC's.


One highlight of the day for me was discovering that he can now catch a ball! Who knew? I'm think he was even surprised.


My buddy Marsha pointed out that I don't have many pictures of myself on the blog. (You'd think it was all about Dylan, wouldn't you? : ) ) So, here you go. This is what I look like, if you were wondering.

Easter Egg Hunt Number 2

I am so far behind on posts! They are piling up, much like the laundry that mocks me daily. I'll go back to Saturday.

Saturday, we took Dylan to his second "official" Easter egg hunt. Luckily, this time it was about 52 degrees. Not exactly my idea of spring-like weather, but after the previous egg hunt, we weren't complaining.

This one involved a hayride to the egg hunt area. This time he had to actually (sort of) hunt for the eggs, in piles of hay.

He was all kinds of brave, waving to the Easter bunny as we approached on the hayride, but when we wanted him to get close enough for a picture...


He liked holding a real bunny, though. He couldn't quite reach the baby lamb, but he "talked" to her anyway ("BAAA!")

After our return trip on the hayride, he got his basket, colored a picture, got a bunny painted on his hand, got a balloon, and posed in the tractor.



I was telling Jim that the best thing about this age is that he doesn't really care what is in the eggs. Things aren't done for the end result. They are done for the experience. The joy is in the experience for him. I guess that is why I squeezed every little drop out of the Easter experience this year. I love TWO.

Easter Egg Hunt

On Saturday, we took Dylan to participate in his first official Easter egg hunt. Official, it was. There was a lady shouting out instructions every ten minutes about how exactly the whole thing would go down. It was held at 10:00 in the morning, and on Saturday in our lovely neck of the woods it was COLD at 10:00am. Very cold, as in 37 degrees, which felt like 27 with the wind. Imagine a huge crowd of munchkins with layers, winter coats and hats, red faces, and runny noses. Not very spring like, Easter bunny! Bawk, Bawk! But, did we, or the swarm of other crazy parents let the frigid weather stop us from giving our kids a good time? NO!

There were real live bunnies to pet, free chocolate chip cookies to eat, and free whistles. Yep, free whistles given to a crowd of excited kids - whose idea was that?! Luckily, their little mouths were too cold to blow, and our ears were spared. The Chick Fil A cow was walking around, and the Easter bunny was ready for photos. Dylan walked right up to the cow, and high fived him, but stayed a safe distance away from the bunny at all times. Cows - not scary. Bunnies - terrifying. Who knew? He got close enough to get his free treat from the bunny's helper, then made a hasty retreat. (Since then, though, he went to the mall with Mi-Mi and Bubba and braved his fear to sit on the Easter Bunny's lap for a ridiculously overpriced picture!)


Ten minutes before the actual "egg hunt" began, people started lining up. I say "egg hunt", because it was more of an egg get. It was a big, open field with the eggs just lying all over the grass. Not exactly a challenge. The whole thing was over in about two minutes. Dylan took off running, and had about 20 eggs in his basket before I could even take a picture. All the shots I got are of his back!

The quota was 10 eggs per kid, so we had to put some back. Then I got a picture of Dylan and his cousins, who we had invited, and we stood in line to get a treat bag, before rushing to the car to get warm! We all went to eat afterwards (four couples and four kids). You know with that many kids under the age of 3, there will be some kind of drama. This time, it was my kid, who made a very scary choking noise, then proceeded to spit up all over himself. Reading all this back, the morning doesn't sound all that enjoyable, does it? Honestly, we did have fun. I said it before, and I'll say it again. When you have kids, if it happens, (getting together with friends), it's a success. You learn not to sweat the details. However, we are supposed to go to another egg hunt this Saturday, so if this one little detail (the weather) would cooperate, I would be very appreciative.

Not A Good Morning

This morning, I awoke at the crack of dawn to find that it was snowing. Snowing, as in snow falling and snow laying on the ground. Snow, as in the radio broadcasters warning of slick spots and accidents. Snow, as in the kind that causes the lovely people of Pittsburgh to slow their cars to a steady crawl - in APRIL!!! Say it with me - "WHY do I live here?"

At work, when I wasn't looking, the 7 year old got eggs out of the refrigerator and put them in her room under a blanket to "keep them warm, so they will hatch"?!

Every morning, while I help the 3 1/2 year old get dressed in her room, the 7 year old is supposed to be brushing her teeth and washing her face in the bathroom. Today, she ran into her sister's room, (naked), to ask me if she smelled good. A very strong smell hit my nose immediately. It didn't smell like perfume. Nope. She sprayed her entire body with Oust so that she "would smell good for Matthew". He's the first grader who said he wants to go out on a date with her.

All this, and it wasn't even 9:00 yet. I should have stayed in bed.

Happy Birthday, Mom

Today it rained. Then, it rained. Then, it rained some more. Dylan and I didn't care. We had things to do. We made cookies, (or should I say "dookeys"?) This was Dylan's first culinary experience, and he certainly enjoyed it. He thought it was great we were making them for Mi-Mi's(my mom's) birthday.




Of course, he wanted to try the cookies - make sure they were acceptable to give to an important person like Mi-Mi...





They got two thumbs up - way up! (But, then again, he doesn't get cookies that often).
I was going to put icing on them, but the idea of giving a two year old boy a knife, even a plastic one, seemed like a suicide mission. (Plus, I forgot to buy icing at the store).

He also made a card for Mi-Mi... (I wrote it out on a separate sheet of paper, then he copied off mine)...


We ALL love you Mi-Mi, and we hope you had a happy birthday!

A Fool

(This seemed like an appropriate story on April Fool's Day).

We were fighting again. Lately, it seemed like all we ever did. After 3 1/2 years, and with a wedding being planned, things seemed to be falling apart. As he stood there yelling, in the kitchen of the tiny third floor apartment that I was renting in a lovely old lady's home, I suddenly had a thought. What has happened to me? Why do I put up with this?

Seconds later I had another thought. There's the look. That's what his mother meant. His mother had asked me, years ago, if I ever saw "the look". At the time I had no idea what she was talking about, so she explained. "He sometimes gets this really mean, angry look in his eyes". What she didn't say was that he looked wild, slightly crazy, and scary.

As I brought my focus back to what he was saying, I heard him say, "I am really trying to be giving and supportive of you, but I feel like I'm not getting anything in return". Is he serious?, I thought. I had been giving and supportive for the past 3 1/2 years, putting up with things that most girls would not. The anger started to build inside me, and I spat out, "Oh, that's RICH!" I could tell immediately from his angry glare that he knew what I meant. "Fuck you", he said. As I heard the words coming out of his mouth, I froze. No one had ever said that to me before. I couldn't imagine someone who claimed to love me saying those words.

It was my first out of body experience. I picked up one of the many old lady trinkets that adorned the place and threw it at him. As it crashed into the wall behind him, inches from his head, he looked at me in disbelief. When I realized what I had done, I started shaking. "Get out", I said in a voice that was barely a whisper. Then, louder and louder, "Get out! Get out! Get out!" "I'm not going anywhere", he said. "Then I'm leaving". I ran down the stairs, slammed the door, and started walking as fast as I could towards the library, trying to silence the voice in my head screaming, Who are you?

He was never abusive, but he had some kind of hold over me. I had started to forget who I was, what I thought and felt, and what I wanted. He had this way of twisting things so that I somehow ended up apologizing for things I knew weren't my fault. It hadn't always been like that, though. In the beginning, he pursued me, with grand romantic gestures - with flowers, poetry, songs, and compliments. He was my first real boyfriend. Was I so desperate for a guy to notice me? Was I so blinded by the thrill of being in love, that I failed to see all the warning signs along the road, admonishing, "STOP!", "Wrong way!", "Loser Crossing"?

It perplexes me now, looking back, and thinking about the person I am today. I am certain that this version of myself wouldn't give him the time of day. Why did I then? Have I changed that much? I sometimes think of those 3 1/2 years as wasted time, but I guess if those years made me the strong, wont-take-any-bullshit woman I am today, I am better having experienced it. I learned from it. I learned to pay attention to the way a man treats his mother. I learned that you can't change someone. I learned that no one should have to settle. I learned that I deserve someone who treats me like gold. I learned not to be a fool for love. Please, tell your daughters.

Dylan at 2 Years 4 Months

-We are getting rid of the pool that takes up our entire yard. The guy came last night to dismantle it. Dylan saw him, and ran to grab his construction hat, saying, "I help!"


-One day last week, I was looking through old pictures, and Dylan saw one of us from last summer at the lake. He announced, "Mommy, when Daddy home today, we go to the beach!" "Uh, it's 40 degrees out, kid, but way to dream"!

-His obsession with letters continues. He has started writing C, E, F, I, L, M, O, and V. He can also spell his name, Mommy, Daddy, and Up. He says the sounds of all the consonants, ( "B says Buh!"), thanks to the Leap Frog refrigerator magnet toy.

-I've mentioned before that dinner time at my house is difficult. There's the whole human vacuum thing, but it's more than that. On the rare occasion that I can hold Dylan off until Jim gets home, we eat together as a family. Jim and I try desperately to talk, and Dylan tries desperately to interrupt. Lately, I've been trying to get him involved in an appropriate, polite way. I coach, "Dylan, ask Daddy, "How was your day?"". Other times, "Dylan, ask Daddy, "What did you do today?"" He's catching on. The other day, after not seeing his beloved stuffed animal, "Puppy", for a while, he picked him up, asking, "Puppy, how you do today?"
-He is hilarious at music class. He is a very enthusiastic participant! One little problem - he doesn't stay with me! He's over, right next to the teacher, imitating her every move, and grinning at her! I'm sure the other kids are saying, "Hey! Teacher's pet! We're not being graded on this stuff!"

-The "Pope Mobile" has been retired. I knew my parents were taking Dylan to the mall, but one day I asked, "Does he stay with you when you go?" They replied, "Well, sometimes we have to put him in the Pope Mobile". "Uh, the what?!" Up until that point, I had no idea they were taking the old backpack stroller to the mall, and having my kid imitate the Pope.