Smoke and Ashes

27 and change

Buddy, the past month has been a doozy, marked by tragedy, tumult, and cuteness all in one. We took our annual trip down to Florida to visit Grandma and Grampy. While we were down there, very bad people decided to hurt people in Boston who were doing nothing except enjoying a nice day watching the Boston Marathon. We spent most of our vacation glued to the television watching the news. Many of our friends and acquaintances were downtown when this terrible thing happened, but we fo were hundreds of miles away, and you, very thankfully, were blissfully unaware that anything was wrong at all. 

You spent your days tagging after your favorite person in the world, Cousin Jack. You went on the "kayboat" (aka kayak) every day and looked for dolphins. You swam in the pool and after about 10 minutes in your floaties, you were off an running on your own. You made everyone happy and smile, even if were sad and worried. 

We also took advantage of the warmer weather and the fact that you were running around half naked most of the time to start potty training, and you did great! The next week at school, we sent you in with just big boy pants. It's been a little hit or miss - some days you don't have any accidents; other days you come home wearing clothes I don't recognize because you've peed through all the extras we sent you with that day. It's ok though, buddy, you'll get there. 

Preparations for the move are well underway too. We're a month out. We've met with a contractor who is going to redo the kitchen and master bath in our new house. We sold our house (well, we accepted an offer and the P&S is supposed to be signed today). That's the good news. The somewhat-stressful news is that they want to close on the same day we buy our new house, so that day (and week) will be super crazy and we're going to live in a house under construction for awhile. In preparation for the move, we also found you a new school. There's a lot of change coming, buddy, but I'm confident you're going to adjust ok ... that's just how you roll.

The biggest change, of course, is the girls. We found out a few weeks ago the two babies growing in mama's belly are, as you accurately predicted all those weeks ago, are two sisters. Your position as the man of the house, for better or worse with two moms and two sisters, is secure. We asked you what you wanted to name them and you voted for Ketchup and Pretzel. We've taken it under consideration. 

We got you a nice summer, big-boy haircut, and it's real cute... but it does accentuate the fact that you have the McAuley ears. Sorry about that.

But of course everything looks better with a little product...

You made an excellent photo companion to Mackenize the night of her Junior Prom...

She looked so pretty. She even let Auntie Kristen and me crash the prom when they announced King and Queen since she was on the Prom Court. She didn't win, but I think she was robbed.

 

Definitely different this time around

18 Weeks Pregnant with Mason...

And... 18 Weeks with the girls...

I suppose actual measurements would be more telling, but definitely bigger this time around. The girls are also kicking up a storm. Ama felt them for the first time tonight. 

(And I'm delinquent on Mase's monthly entry but only because I've been traveling like crazy and not near a computer. Tomorrow buddy. Or this weekend at the latest).

Month 26: Our world is changing, but you're cuter than ever

Mase - the past month has been one of the busiest and craziest of your two+ year existence. Word of the twins is out, so now you'll have to share your monthly posts with details about how we as a family are responding to pregnancy and preparing for their arrival. Sorry, this is just one thing you'll have to learn to share. 

First, I'm almost in the clear with regards to morning sickness. The first few months were REALLY bad. I was sick all of the time, and unlike when I was pregnant with you, just laying on the couch and doing nothing wasn't an option. Even when I want to puke, you still need to eat and bathe and play living room baseball and kitchen soccer. 

To accommodate our growing family, we are in the process of making two major purchases. The first is a house in Hanover. We are leaving the city and moving to the 'burbs. We have just signed our P&S on a nice four bedroom house, with a playroom for you and your siblings in the basement (not to mention a place to stash Ama's workout gear, as much as her bike trainer does make a nice addition to our dining room). We are also preppinng our current house to sell. We got everything painted, put a ton of stuff into storage, and in general, have "staged" the house to look like it's not really lived in. Did I mention you like to play baseball in the living room and soccer in the kitchen?

We are also in the process of shopping for a minivan. Lots of people have cautioned us against taking this final plunge into suburban mommihood, and warned that our last shred of cool credibility will be shot. I can only answer: "In a few months, I'll have three kids under three, and more nights than not, I go to bed before 9. I lost my cool credibility long before a minivan entered into the equation."

In other big changes, Lucy has gone to live with Jillian. One night you were in Lucy's face and pulling her hair, and she didn't like it, so she snapped at you and bit your lip. You didn't need stitches, but it scared the bejeezus out of us. It wasn't really Lucy's fault; frankly, we're surprised she was as nice to you as she was for two years because she has never really liked kids. I cried and cried the night we decided to give her away, which you'll learn is a really big deal for me. McAuleys don't cry. 

Beyond all those changes: new house, new car, minus one dog... life has marched on and you continue to get smarter and sweeter every day.

The other day you were stacking pillows up by the window and then precariously balancing on them. I asked, "whatcha doin?" and you responded, "I'm catching the sunshine." When you don't want something, you answer "no please, mommy" instead of "no thank you" which is also unbearably cute. When we ask you what you did at school today, you usually answer "played friends" and when we say, "which friends?" you say "Haw-wold" (Harold) or "lillll-eee" (Lily). 

You're getting taller and stronger, and now that you sleep in a big boy bed, you have also figured out how to open doors. You come sneaking into our room after we put you to bed and ask with your most pathetic face, "I cuddle in your bed, please mommy?" It's a REALLY hard thing to say no to, but Ama and I are trying to be steely in our resolve. 

You still hate clothes and prefer to be naked (thankfully it's getting warmer out), but you have developed a fondness for pajamas. Last weekend, you wouldn't get out of your elmo jammies from last summer, which admittedly looked a little ridiculous. You kind of looked like a mini go-go dancer in your little red shorts, so I promptly bought you new 2T jammies for the upcoming warmer weather (and our trip to FL next week to see grandma and grandpa). You were stoked at your new pirate jammies, so much so that you refused to take them off this morning. I finally manhandled you into real clothes, only to show up to school and learn that it was PJ day, and we had a 20 minute brawl for nothing. Oh well. Here's a video of you doing a pirate impression:

With the new babies coming, I'm trying really hard to pay extra attention to Mason and Mommy special time. We definitely treat you like the crown prince, so with two new babies, I'm afraid your world is going to be rocked in a way that you just won't know how to deal with, although you're such an easy kid, I'm sure you'll adjust just fine. You'll always be my favorite oldest kid ;)

Love,

mommy

2 Years, 1 Month

Hey bud - The 11th crept up on me yesterday, and my severe head cold is zapping any coherent thought out of my brain. So, excuse me if I ramble... 

The big milestone for this month is that you are now sleeping in a big boy bed. We've had the big boy bed for awhile, but figured there was no reason to rush the transition; that is, until we grabbed the video monitor and saw you balancing precariously on the rail as you attempted to climb out. I put the bed together that very day. So far, it's going great. In fact, I think you're sleeping better than you did before, which is good, because 2 years was a long time for me to go without a decent night's sleep. 

You continue to dazzle us with your brilliance, and we credit television and daycare with a lot of that. On the TV front (yes, TV! Teaching you things! Gasp!), Little Einsteins was on and you heard the music and said "cello!" How many 2 year olds know how to ID a cello after just a few notes?!? Genius. You also like to yell "staccato" at random intervals, but I'm not quite sure you really know what that one means yet. You just think it's funny to say.

Daycare is really where most of the learning is happening. You come home with new words and concepts all the time. Fortunately, you're too young to be learning how to spell. I say "fortunately" because I'm pretty sure one of your teachers is illiterate. On your daily sheet earlier this month, she noted that you ate all of your "vagetables", and that's not even the worst example (though it definitely gave Ama and me a chuckle). "Find the most egregious spelling mistake" is now part of my daily ritual. I'm also pretty sure the teacher that fills out your daily sheet is the same teacher that you love the most -- you literally run into the room every day to give her the biggest, warmest hug, so I don't really care that she can't spell to save her life. She loves you and you love her. You recently switched rooms, but every morning you still run in to her room to give her one of your special hugs - the kind you reserve for only a very select few. 

Seeing how happy you are at daycare and how much you're learning is also the cause for a fair bit of concern in our world right now. Ama and I are planning to move us to the South Shore this summer, which means no more daycare at the Y. In fact, it might mean that we actually need to get a nanny, given that my commute will be longer and Ama's schedule if she's working in the emergency department will be kooky. I hate the idea of taking you out of school. Even if they can't spell, it's so obvious how much they've taught you and how much you love it. Even if we do get a nanny, I think we'll end up putting you in pre-school in the mornings and having a nanny in the afternoon. 

You're changing all the time, little man. And I say "little man" deliberately. We aren't huge on gender stereotypes in our house, but man, you are 110% boy. When an ad for "Sophia the First" comes on before Little Einstein, you scream "NO PRINCESS!" as if 20 seconds of girliness offends your sensibility. Your favorite game is "hike" - a game in which you throw a ball (football, basketball, soccer ball... it doesn't matter, you have dozens of balls). You throw it to me or Ama, then yell "hike" and charge full speed ahead and tackle us. You can play this game for hours. Auntie Dina and Auntie Jen bought you a John Deere tool belt and hat for your birthday and you've hardly taken it off. "Mommy, play tools! PLAY TOOLS!" you shout, dragging me over to your car where you bang on it incessantly with your little plastic John Deere hammer. Thanks, Aunties. Just remember - payback is [insert a word I'm not longer using because Mason is a sponge and repeats everything].

I love you, bug. 

There's nothing terrible about it: You're TWO

Mr. Mason - you're TWO YEARS OLD. I am physically in disbelief. Ama made you a little video to celebrate. There's one still shot where you look like a teenager. Seriously, if I didn't know any better, I would say someone had a time machine and took a picture of you five years from now and slipped it in. 

You're pretty pumped about being two, though when asked, you tell people you're turning "peace." This stems from a little miscommunication. You see, I tried to prompt you to say you were turning two by holding up two fingers, a gesture you're really only accustomed to seeing when cousin Mackenzie leaves the room. She never leaves without throwing up a little peace sign. And we thought it was so funny, that we reinforced it. So now, you're officially "peace years old". 

As you enter your second year, there are a lot of things that fill you with delight. Being naked is definitely tops on the list. You ask/state every day at every chance you get, "I naked boy?!?" When I finally give in, you do your super hero chant version of "I NAKED BOY."  You've had a cold for three months... I wonder if it's related to the fact that you've been nude just about that entire time? It is also probably the reason you've discovered one of your other favorite past times. "Mommy, sit sunny" is your way of asking to sit in from of the glass slider and read books. 

Confirming my suspicions that you are in fact a genius, there have been a few notable developments this month:

1. You understand context more than ever before. I forget exactly what you were trying to do, but when you completed your task, you shouted "I DID IT" and then gave me an unprompted high five. 
2. You can read expressions on people's faces and even characters' expressions in books. The very first time we read the story of tiger getting caught in the rain, you said "uh oh" as soon as you saw his worried look. 
3. You count in spanish. Obviously this is something they're teaching you at school, but I nearly fell over the first time you just randomly busted out "uno.... dos... tres... cinco... ocho... ocho... ocho..." (I didn't say you counted *accurately* in spanish). 

You being a genius has required us to go deep into our arsenal of manipulation techniques. Monsters are my current favorite. Don't want to change your diaper? Uh oh, here comes the diaper monster. Don't want to wear pajamas? Did you know that pajamas make you invisible to monsters? (As you judge me, please trust that it's cute and fun and not scary. I promise I'm not giving him fodder for future years in therapy, at least not with this particular example).

Sometimes, we don't need to trick you into doing what you want, because you've become very communicative in recent weeks. You're a man who knows what you want. Much to my chagrin, what you often want is ketchup to smother your hands, face, and food in --- something that truly grosses me out. But in cuter examples, the other day you didn't want to go to nap yet, so you asked if we could rock. We sat there quietly rocking when you said "mommy, back." So I rubbed your back. Then you said "mommy, hair." So I played with your hair. Then you said, "I nap now." And just like that I put you down and you went to sleep without a word of complaint. 

We had to cancel your birthday party this weekend because of "Winter Storm Nemo". There's a certain irony there given the decor of your bedroom and the two clown fish in your fish tank. Sorry. We'll makae it up to you when you're three...which will be here way too soon for my liking. 

I love you pal. 

xo, mommy

One month shy of 2

Mase,

December was great for family time for two reasons: 1) Ama was on break, and 2) I took a vacation... and shut off my email. I think that's the first time I've done that in the five years since I started work at my current job. We used the time to visit Nantucket and Western Mass. As a result, I don't think you realize that Christmas is really only one day because pretty much everywhere you went during the month of December, someone gave you presents. Remote control cars, a train set, blocks, a tent... our house is strewn with plastic things that sing songs, honk, rev, and otherwise delight you (much to the dismay of our downstairs neighbors, I'm sure). 

I don't know if it was all the presents, sugar, and excitement, but for two weeks around Christmas, you decided that I was the pits. "STOP, MOMMY, NO... STOP"  became your favorite refrain, even if I wasn't doing anything. All of the sudden, I had flashes of what life would be like with you as a teenager.

And it was really only directed at me. "Come please, Ama" you'd say, as you pulled Ama into your tent to build a castle. I'd volunteer to go with you instead, and would be greeted with, "STOP, MOMMY, NO...STOP." Fortunately, it didn't last long at all, and as quickly as it started, you became my lovable little boy again. As long as I don't steal your food. That still really pisses you off.

Auntie Joy went to Chile and Argentina over the holidays for three weeks. You're super stoked that she back, but she can hardly recognize you because of the full sentences and new words that are spilling out of your mouth. Truth be told, I can hardly recognize you either. Most of your changes have been a bit more subtle, but this recent explosion of vocabulary was so overnight that both Ama and I looked at each other at least once a day and said "did you hear that? Has he said that before?" 

I'm pretty pumped for you to turn two. We have rented a cool indoor playground, and for the first time, we have a bunch of friends with kids that are about the right age to play. Last year was fun, but no offense, you all were kind of boring lumps on a log. This year, we par-tay. 

I love you buddy. Even when you are a little Monster. 

22 Months - Ahhh Princess!

Happy 22 months buddy. It's December, and I'm must admit, I'm super pumped. Our neighborhood is lit up like the Vegas strip and every night on our ride home from school, we enthusiastically wave to Santa and yell "MEEEEEERRRRRRYYYY CHRISTMASSSSS". The other night I was on the phone with the president of mommy's company talking about something very important and I had to interrupt him mid sentence to explian that we were about to turn onto a particularly festive stretch and that there was a toddler in the backseat that was about to go ballistic with delight. And boy, you didn't disappoint. There were lots of "HO! HO! HO's" and "SANTA!!!" and my personal favorite, "Ahhhh Princess", which in Mason speak = Merry Christmas. 

All in all, this has been a very festive time of year, and you are a super happy, easy-going kid... with one big exception: we have to perform a morning excorcism every time we have to get you dressed. You *hate* clothes. I have to tackle you, pin you down, and forcibly dress you. Then for the next 20 minutes you run around tugging at your shirt collar or grabbing the hem of your pants, pleading "off?? Off?? OFF!!" For a minute, I entertained the notion that you might have some weird allergy to our laundry detergent, but discarded it because you eventually get distracted and give up, there's no weird rashees or anything, and so far, no one at school has commented that you spend your day asking to be nudey.

Sometimes, I crank the heat and just let you do your nudey thing. I mean, why fight it, right?

A new low or a new level of awesomeness?

The scene: An indoor playground, after we have just reserved it for Mason's 2nd Birthday Party in Feburary.

Me: Um, can I ask you something without you thinking I'm the world's worst mother?

[Pregnant pause]

Me: Are we allowed to bring adult beverages?

Owner (in all seriousness, with thoughtful look on her face): No one has ever asked me that before? 

Me: Ok I *am* the world's worst mother. NO ONE has asked that before??

Owner: I know. I'm surprised. So, anyway, uh... um... uh....

Me: Is what you're trying to say "No, wink wink"?

Owner: EXACTLY! I mean, I won't be checking coolers or anything. [With a chuckle] Now I need to go make sure I'm working *that* party.

Ok, so I might be a bad mom, but at least I care enough about my friends to not make them attend a party with 20 kids under the age of 3 without serving them booze. 

What historical fiction will teach you about democracy

As much as we've all been disenchanted by stupid political tete-a-tete, if folks need a little inspiration, might I recommend the Tom Follett Century Trilogy, which spans the late-19th/20th Century, to inspire a little love of democracy, despite its warts. (Warning: I've always had this issue with Follett - I love his books, but find the violence, particularly violence against female heroes very off-putting. Book 1 "The Fall of Giants" didn't have much of that; Book 2 about the rise of Fascism and the horros of WWII is very graphic and upsetting). 

21 Months - A New President, Lello Choo Choos, and a haircut

Dear Mason - 

November was a big month for the McAuley clan, and really for the whole country. President Barack Obama was re-elected. Lots of folks thought it would be really close, but in the end, it wasn't really. As a country, there was a lot of bitterness exchanged in the waning months of the election. I did my best to stay out of it (I did open a can of verbal whoop ass on Uncle Trent, but only cuz I love him, knew he could take it, and knew he'd dish it right back in the playful way only family can get away with). In general though, it makes me personally sad that the Republican party has co-opted Lincoln idealism and replaced it with social conservatism, and that a large percentage of the country thinks that's a good idea.  It mostly made me sad because of you and because of Ama.

Presidential politics is always about more than a single issue, but at the end of the day, now that I'm a mom and a wife, I only have one priority, and that's you guys. The world is changing - our family would have been seen as something quite out of the ordinary a generation ago, but now, it's less so. I understand that other people don't think this is the most important issue, and they certainly wouldn't decide the future of the country based on it. I know lots of folks who love and support us with all of their hearts, but still voted for Romney (including just about your entire extended family on both sides). Even still, I breathed a lot easier on November 7th, not because Obama won and Romney lost (well, a little bit of that), but because it signaled to the world that the influence of social conservatism is waning. The future of the Republican party is not (I hope) the tea party, but the Maggie McCains of the world. When that's the case, I can stop being a little sad about the people I love supporting the Republican party. Time will tell, but in the meantime, I'm feeling pretty good.

On a much lighter note, we have a new morning ritual. I ask you, "did you have good dreams?" and you say "yes!", and then I ask you what you dreamt about, and you answer "Elmo!". I ask, "is that all?", and every now and then you throw in "A lello [yellow] choo choo." It makes me laugh every time. 

You're becoming a little bit more particular as you get older. You hated wearing your dragon Halloween costume (which you insisted was not a dragon, but instead a turtle), because of the way it covered your head. Despite the fact that blueberries are your favorite food, whenever we serve you blueberry pancakes, you pick them out and screech "eeeeeew" as if the berries have somehow defiled an otherwise perfectly good breakfast treat. At the same time, you'll eat just about anything if I mix it in with yogurt. You're a weirdo. 

And much to the delight of the girls at daycare who swooned when they saw you this morning, we finally took you to get a big boy haircut. I personally think it's a little too short but did so strategically so that by the time the holidays roll around, it will be the perfect length. 

Here you are before (granted, with a wicked case of winter hat head): 

And here is after:

And, just for a little additional cuteness, I'll throw in these:

Those blue eyes kill me. I love you buddy. 

xo

20 Months (a few days late)

Mase, for the first time since you were born, the 11th went by and I didn't even notice. I suck. To give myself a little bit of a break, it has been the craziest month, hosting a 400 person conference at work, followed by our annual go to market summit. Sandwiched in between was Marcie and Matt's wedding, a case of laryngitis, and a few weeks of bronchitis. Ama meanwhile hasn't had it much easier. She just started her OB/GYN rotation over at Mt. Auburn Hospital, which means her hours and her commute are much longer. Thankfully, Auntie Joy has been a big help during this crazy month, but I'm looking forward to things quieting down. 

For what it's worth, I really hate that I didn't spend as much time with you this month as I normally do, and so does Ama. The other night, you were looking at a picture of you on the fridge and I taught you to identify which pictures had baby Mason in them. It was the first time you've said your own name. Our little exercise got interrupted because you started yelling "Yak! Yak! Yak!" It took me a second, but then realized you were pointing at a picture of Cousin Jack, who you just think is the greatest person alive. When Ama came home, I told her the story about Jack because I thought it was so funny, but forgot to mention the monumentally huge milestone (at least in a parent's eyes) of you recognizing yourself. It's stuff like that that we hate missing. It's also one of the reasons that I like keeping this blog - it forces me to reflect back on all the things that happened in a given month and appreciate them all over again, particularly on months when we're moving so fast we don't take as much time as we should in the moment.

So to that end, new milestones to add to the mix this month:

You have started singing. You've always been an exceptional dancer, but now you kind of hum/mumble along to your favorite songs. You've added "I found it" and "I fixed it" to your list of favorite expressions. On one or two occasions, you've said "awwww nuts" which I adore, but it's not quite part of your standard repertoire yet. You're a big boy who eats whole apples. On the down side, they have a habit of disappearing only to be rediscovered under the couch or in some other equally undesirable location. 

The "potty training" is going well. I put it in quotes because we're not really potty training - just kind of letting you do your thing. If you want to go, great, but if not, we'll deal with diapers. A few weeks ago, we were taking a quick shower and you said "I poo poo, I poo poo." I didn't really believe you, but I lifted you out of the shower anyway, and you walked right *next* to your potty, squatted, and dropped a deuce on the floor. I clapped and squealed good job anyway - I mean, you get points for telling me you had to go, right? 

I think you've outgrown your room at school. When I drop you off, you go straight for Darby's room (Toddler 1) instead of your room (Infant/Toddler). Darby is your best friend, and Darby's parents are the coolest: his dad has crazy white hair and wears converse sneakers every day and his mom is very high fashion and stunning. There was a tragic incident earlier in the month where I thought I was going to have to hate Darby's mom. Let me explain...

Auntie Joy and I were coming out of daycare after dropping you off when a blue SUV bombed through the parking lot causing us to jump back for fear of being run over. I didn't say anything and then the whole ride to the train, I was filled with anxiety (very literally, I was nearing an anxiety attack - it's something that happens since you were born). What if kids had been coming out of the door? What if you and I had been coming out and although we always hold hands, you had broken away and run in front of me? What kind of person speeds in the parking lot of a daycare?!? The next day I dropped you off and the blue car was there again, and when I walked inside the only other parent I saw was Darby's mom. I was crestfallen. I now had to declare Darby's mom my mortal enemy. I returned to the parking lot to wait for the driver of the offending vehicle . Thankfully, it wasn't Darby's mom at all. I had words with the driver, who denied it and said I was mistaken and that it wasn't her, which I knew was not true because I recognized her stupid flipflops which were the only thing I could see the day before as she pulled her kid out of the car -- I should have known Darby's hot mom never would have worn ratty flip flops.) Instead of calling her a flat-out liar, with as much sarcasm as I could muster, I said "Oh, it must be my mistake. I'll just have to keep an eye out for the person that almost ran me over" at which point I made a crazy hand gesture where I pointed to my eyes and then hers. She probably thinks I'm insane. I don't care as long as she slows the f**k down while driving in the parking lot. 

I'd go to the end of the earth to protect you and nobody better mess with mama bear. I love you pal. 

xo

 

 

19 Big Ones

Little man - 

It's been a fun month (which ones aren't, after all?) 

We finally convinced Auntie Joy to ditch the west coast and move to Boston. She's going to stay with us for awhile, which has had its definite pros and cons:

Pro: She's a super good cook.

Con: You like her better than me and Ama.

Pro: She's helped us out a lot as Ama starts her rotations and while I work late getting ready for our big conference at work. She does things like pick you up from day care and make you dinner.

Con: She's teaching you how to say "Shut Up Lucy" (ok, this isn't really a "con" per se, more just an evil little delight that we all recognize is probably bad for you but we think it will be really funny when you master it.

Speaking of saying inappropriate things... 

The seasons have changed, and we've started trading in your crocs for sneakers and socks. You are *very* particular about which shoes you wear and when you want them on and off. Yesterday when Auntie Joy picked you up, you asked to take your shoes off. She said "no, let's wait til we get home." You got in the car, and asked again. You got into the driveway, and asked again. You got into the house and asked again, and this time Auntie Joy obliged. She took your shoes off, and then at your request, took your socks off.  At that point, you then took your left sock and told her to put it on your right foot and vice versa. Last night, you refused to take your socks off before getting into the bathtub. I didn't really see the point in arguing with you, so I let you take a bath with them on (two birds with one stone, eh? A tad less laundry? I'm all about the silver lining.) Have I mentioned you're a tad high maintenance?

But how does this relate to saying inappropriate things, you ask?

Well when you say "off", it does in fact sound like "off", but "sock" sounds a whole lot like a four letter word that starts with "F" and ends with "UCK", so to the untrained ear, "Socks off" doesn't exactly sound like a pleasant request. 

This month was also big, as we passed another important milestone that I promise to only do while you're too young to be embarrassed by it. I cut your hair. Worse - I cut your hair using buzzers designed for giving dogs haircuts.

Let me explain myself. Your hair represents a huge dilemma for me. On the one hand, I like to keep your hair long because you have these curls that are to die for (all the girls say so). On the other hand, I don't like paying $20 for them to just take a little bit off. I took you to get a short haircut once and -- don't get me wrong, you were still wicked cute -- but it sort of exaggerated the extraordinarily large size of your mellon. But, if we let it go too long, you get these crazy wing things and kind of start looking like a girl -- as you can see, I've struggled with this mightily.

At the end of the day, I thought cutting it myself -- just a little off the sides, straighten up the neckline, etc -- was the perfect solution, and I must say, I think I did a damn fine job. 

Right? You're totally shabby chic. Justin Bieber, eat your heart out.

There is a whole bunch more to write about this month, but honestly, we've been burning the candles at both ends, and we had to call the police again last night because of the stupid inconsiderate neighbor with the broken car alarm so I'm a bit cross-eyed.

I love you lots. xo

Signs of Aging

I had a check up this morning with a new Primary Care. She went to Harvard undergrad, and graduated a few years after me. Being older than my doctor makes me feel old. 

18.25 Months (Sorry I'm Late)

Better late than never? I have a good excuse, if that matters, though. In the week since you turned 18 months, we've been to 2 weddings, held a funeral for Uncle Mark, seen a whale, seen dozens of seals, spent countless hours on a boat or beach, visited grandparents, great memere, aunts and uncles, and cousins, and had lots of beers. Ok, you didn't have beers; I had beers.  And Ama had beers.They were yummy. But this isn't supposed to be about us.

You are now officially a year and a half. This has been a pretty big month. You have discovered the wonderful world of personal hygiene. Every morning you ask, "Brush teeth?" And if I happen to not be paying attention, you say again a little more assertively, "Brush Teeth!" And if I still happen to not be paying attention, you flat out scream, "BRUSH TEETH!!" You then very carefully brush your teeth, and we continue our morning in harmony until I try to take the tooth brush away. And then all hell breaks loose. 

You've also started potty training. This was entirely your doing, not mine. You pee every single time you get in the tub, so just on a whim, I put you on the little training potty before the tub and it worked. I thought it was a fluke, but the next night, I did the same thing, and once again, you happily peed. At that point, I thought you were a genius. On the third night, no such luck. Since then, it's been a bit of a mixed bag, but in general, we're just lettin' you do your thing. You ask to go to the potty a few times a day; sometimes you go, sometimes you don't. You've also taken to announcing that you've pooped. I speak Mason a little better than Ama. When you first started doing it, she thought you were saying you had a boo boo. She figured it out quickly though. 

Your words in general are coming along well, and you're starting to string together sentences. You like to narrate pretty much everything. "I got it", "Catch it," "I'm runnin'", "I'm hungry"... I love knowing what you're thinking and what you want. I love that I get to be the one to give it to you and make you happy.

You mean the world to us, buddy.  I couldn't have gotten through the past few weeks without you. I'd post pictures of you to go along with this entry, but at Ama's white coat ceremony a lot of people I didn't know referred to you as the facebook baby, so I'm guessing that between Ama and me, we do enough picture posting. You are, of course, devilishly handsome. 

xo, love, mom

18 months -- it's coming, I promise

Buddy, on the 11th, I turned 33 and you turned 1 1/2. It's a big one, but I haven't had a second near a computer. I promise to be near a computer soon, but quite frankly, I'm too busy boating, playing baseball and golf, and all around smothering you with love to post on time this month. Stay tuned, big man. Xoxo

I'm going to start rounding

Dear Mason,

I'm a little late for this month's installment - usually these go live first thing in the morning, but in my defense, I was unconscious for a good  part of the day having a minor surgery. Don't worry, mommy is fine. Funny story: the anestesiologist came in to talk about my options. He was recommending general, but said a spinal or local were also possibilities if I felt strongly against having general, but given my history of migraines and some other risk factors, thought general was the way to go. I answered, "I have a one and a half year old.. quite frankly, I'm looking forward to the nap." He laughed. It was a little disappointing though. He put the drugs into the IV and a few minutes later I asked the nurse "Shouldn't I be sleeping by now?" She answered, "oh honey, we're done." Some nap. 

Speaking of my "1 1/2 year old..."

Today you're 17 months old. I always thought it was annoying when parents referred to their kids in months, but then you become a parent, and you see just what a difference a month makes. 13 months is legitimately different than 15 months. But, I think I'm at the point that when strangers ask, you are now just "1 and a half". I realize I'm rounding up and that the new skills will continue to crop up month to month, but I think "1 and a half", and  "almost 2" are going to carry us through until next February. I hope you don't mind. Blog posts will come monthly though, so don't fret. I know one day you will really appreciate it, especially when I share stories like this one:

You, my friend, are obsessed with your penis. When you were really little and first discovered it, you used to push and poke at it, such that I took to calling it your "button." I realized the error of my ways, however, when we were in an elevator with other people and I said "Mason, do you want to push the button" and you looked at your crotch and started poking your diaper. Silly mama. I figure that since you already have two moms, calling your manhood your button was probably doing way too much damage. We now say the word "penis" with convinction. I draw the line at "testicles" though. Live with it. 

Now that I've sufficiently humilated you for the whole internet, we'll move on to other news and updates. I'd say the biggest thing this month is that you're a total waterbug. We brought you to Nantucket and we couldn't pull you out of the water. We hang in our backyard, and you splash in the toy sink and run through the sprinkler, and wade in your pool. We have pretty much stopped dressing you on the weekends and just let you run around in your diaper (in the shade of course - if you're in the sun, it's bathing suit and rashguard - geez, I'm not that irresponsible.)

There were a few weeks this month when I was your favorite. It didn't last long. Ama is definitely your favorite, but that's ok. I know it will go back and forth. I bribe you all the time with cookies and a lack of discipline, so I'm sure I'll win eventually. (In case you're wondering, this is what awesome parenting looks like, don't you agree? Maybe I shouldn't have harped on my responsible parenting skills earlier?)

I'd say the hardest thing about this month is communicating - Ironic, since last month was about how you found all of these words. I think it's challenging because you have so many more words on the tip of your tongue and because we understand you when you say "ball" or "chi-chi" (that's your binky by the way) or "mama" or "up" or "all done" or "love yoooooo" or  "later" or any of the countless other words you say, you get pissed that we don't understand the 47,000 other things you haven't quite mastered yet. We're working it out though, bud. 

I have a bunch of pictures from our trip to Nantucket and all the other summer fun we're having. I'll compile and post an album soon. 

I love you bug.

mama

It's a bright and shiny day

My sister often jokes that the sun shines brighter on me than it does on other people -- it was the theme of her wedding toast. Knowing that it's an ongoing joke, I've started to chronicle the many times that she does, in fact, seem to be on to something. Like last month when I hit a car, caused obvious damage, and the guy told me not to worry about it, that he didn't want my insurance to go up, and then even refused my offer just to write him a check directly. Today's example maybe isn't that rosy, but for those who know me, it does suggest there are forces greater than pure chance at play...

I have a jacket that I keep in my office since the temperature regularly dips to arctic, especially in the summer (side note: it's also underneath the fourth floor bathroom so I spend my days being lulled by the tranquil noise of toilets flushing). Anyway, last night was rainy so I wore the jacket home. I brought it back this morning, and since my office was 900 degrees today instead of the normal -4, I slung it over my chair and headed off to an endless string of meetings.

Thursdays are my day to pick up Mase. It's always a scramble for me to leave work, take the train to ruggles, pick up the car and drive from northeastern to daycare. Today, however, even though I was getting close to that time when my deliberate exodus becomes my panicked-my-kid-is-going-to-be-stranded-at-daycare-so-long-he-will-forget-what-I-look-like sprint, as I was walking out, I noticed that my office was a disaster...No more of a disaster than it was the day before or it has been countless days leading up to today, but for some reason, I just *had* to tidy up. The first thing I did was grab the aforementioned jacket off my chair to hang it up where it belongs. When I did, I was greeted with the quiet clink clank of my keys rattling around in the pocket.

I don't know what possessed me to decide today of all days to take the extra five minutes to tidy my office, but if I hadn't, I would have gotten all the way to my car, realized I had no keys, never would have made it to daycare on time, would have been charged with late pick up and would have installed the first of many nuggets of emotional abandonment in my 16 month old son (ok, maybe that last part is a stretch and he'd welcome the extra 45 minutes of playtime with Marshmallow the Rabbit long after all the other kids who smother the poor creature all day long have gone home).

16: the month of el melmo

I mentioned last month how the words have begun just pouring out of your mouth, but this month, your favorite word by far "El Melmo". I'm not exactly sure if that's spanish for your red furry friend or just the way a 16 month old says Elmo, but let me tell you, there's nothing in your world as exciting right now as Elmo (note: All sesame street characters = Elmo in your world, though the real Elmo gives you the most delight).

The other day we were in Target shopping for a baby shower present. As I turned down the aisle, you were greeted with an explosion of Sesame paraphernalia. The high pitched squeal/gasp of sheer delight signalled that you were in heaven. "EL MELMO, EL MELMO, EL MELMO!" you cheered like a 16 year old girl meeting Justin Bieber. It was even more pronounced than the time we were at BJ's Wholesale Club and you freaked when you saw the Elmo sippy cups. 

I'm totally pandering to your obsession too... I've downloaded an app where you can Facetime with Elmo and he teaches you valuable lessons like going to the potty and not to be afraid of the doctor. More importantly, it keeps you from screaming bloody murder when you're strapped into your carseat and wanting to be anywhere other than in the car. I'm sure there is a cadre of parents out there judging me - a 16 month facetiming with Elmo? Clearly your child is going to grow up to be a sociopath or some other equally horrible fate because screen time and gadgets are terrible for kids under 2 and only in very limited moderation kids older than 2. Well, I think sociopaths have a certain charm, so I'll take my chances. 

We do spend lots of time doing things those same parents would applaud us for. We spend lots of time outside, playing in the yard, gardening, playing in your little plastic pool, making Ama give you horsey rides, going for walks, cruisin' the tot lot, reading books (yes I ordered some Elmo books too), coloring (including your elmo coloring/sticker book), going to Nantucket on the weekends, playing catch... Actually, if there's one thing that gets you as excited as El Melmo it's a ball. I must admit, you were kind of a douche at the Tot Lot this weekend, protectively walking around with the one and only ball, refusing to share, even with the cute blonde girl who would always throw it right back to you. We'll work on the douchiness (or maybe it's an unavoidable side effect of facetiming with Elmo and I only have myself to blame). 

I think it was just a minor hiccup, because nobody can watch this video and think you're at all capable of douchiness. (I strategically have not videotaped one of your epic tantrums, just so that I look back in a few years and remember that you were a perfect child... you know, like I was when I was your age.)

>

I love you bug. 

xo, 

Mommy

(which, for the record, refers to both me and Ama and is your third favorite word behind "El Melmo" and "Ball", and it melts my heart every single time you say it).

 

She's kind of a badass

This weekend, my 16 year old niece went to the prom. She had the perfect dress, the perfect shoes, and the perfect jewelry all picked out. Only one problem: she went to put her earrings in and she couldn't get one of them through. She only got her ears pierced a year or two ago, and because she's an athelete, she has to take them out every day for practice and games. It seems she went a few weeks without wearing them at all, and as a result, no more pierced ear. 

My sister took a stab at it (deliberate word choice there), but it was a no go. Mackenzie insisted she keep pushing to get it through, but my sister didn't quite have the stomach for it. Naturally, I volunteered. I pushed that thing as hard as it would go, but nothing. We broke the news to her that she would just have to go without earrings. 

Unacceptable, she informed us. 

We got an ice cube, draped the perfect (white, oye) dress with a towel, and a family friend took a shot. She essentially re-pierced her ear right there in the living room while everyone was waiting in the other room to see the big unveiling. Mackenzie didn't even flinch. It's hard to be badass in a white dress and uncomfortably high heels, but she managed to pull it off. 

Month 15 - There aren't really the words

Dear Mason -

I must admit, there's part of me that didn't want to write this month; a big part of me wants to forget that this month even existed. The McAuley clan has had a colosally crappy month, and even that is an understatement. A few weeks ago, your Uncle Mark died. Your uncle and I weren't what I would call "close", but we worked hard over the past few years to find common ground and we would chat regularly about the Sox, Bruins, or Pats. He always asked about you and was looking forward to coming to Boston in a few weeks to meet you. 

A few days after that, a family friend was hit by a car while riding her bike. She's on the mend, but suffered some pretty serious brain injuries so it's going to be a long road for her. The tragedies of the month shook us all, so much so that at times it was hard to breathe and at random times, I would just start to cry. We McAuleys aren't big criers, either, so you can imagine the toll that it took on all of us.

Yep, there's a lot of reasons that I didn't want to write this month and instead just bury it away and pretend it didn't happen, and at some points, I didn't even think I'd be able to write about this month even if I wanted to. But then there's you - and with you, there are always a lot of reasons to be grateful, and that alone warrants my best efforts to capture it all. 

Throughout the collosally crappy month (Should I just abbreviate it to CCM?), you were the one that kept us all together (Ama too - she's good in a crisis). Whenever we were sitting around with grandma and grampy and auntie Kristen and getting really sad, I'd yell, "Quick, Mason, do something cute!" and you'd throw your hands above your head doing the "touchdown" sign we taught you or lift your shirt up and show us all your belly. (As a sidenote, we were watching the Bruins play the Capitals in the playoffs throughout the CCM, but you haven't quite learned the difference between a touchdown and a goal). We'd also go swimming in the pool and for bike rides around Vero, and for a few minutes at a time, it was almost like we were actually on vacation.

Your lack of sports knowledge aside, this was a huge learning month for you. I don't know how you did it, but one day you opened your mouth and all of these words started spilling out: binky, truck, banana, bubble, grandma, grandpa.... the list goes on and on. I'm not exactly surprised that you're learning how to talk; I'm just surprised that you seemed to have learned all at once. 

You've also developed a lot of social skills this month. My favorite by far is that you've learned how to hug. I had to go to SF for a few days during the CCM, which was tough because I didn't want to be away from you and Ama, but when I got back, we played the best game ever in the kitchen. We'd say "Give Ama a hug" and you'd run over and give her a hug, and then we'd say "Give Mama a hug" and you'd run over and give me a hug, and we did it over, and over, and over. We probably played that game for 7 full minutes before we decided to do our second favorite game that we call Mason Sandwich (family hug while tickling you and smothering you with smooches), but I could have played for much longer. 

Your new social interactions aren't just limited to us. This morning I dropped you off at school, and as we were walking in, your classmate Brian yelled your name, and you turned around and waved. After I dropped you off and gave you kisses, as I walked away, you waved. You've been waving for a long time, but usually it's mirroring someone else. Now, however, you understand the context of waving. It's like you saw me leaving and thought to yourself, "Oh yeah, this is the part where I wave and she gushes at me like I'm a frickin' genius." 

Well, you are. 

When I was in San Francisco, you and Ama would make me videos every morning and every night. I loved them all, but this one is one of my favorites ever. Nobody in the world makes you laugh like Ama, and nothing in this world makes me feel better than watching you laugh. 

I don't know what I did to get so lucky, but if I can feel this blessed in the midst of the CCM, I know that we will all be ok. 

I love you buddy. 

Love, 

mama

Random delivery memory

Nurse: ok, Sarah, big push.
Me: (with a twisted, serious concentration face) grrrrrrrrrrr
Nurse: ok, less with the face and more with the actual pushing.

14 months, or what I like to call, "the needy phase"

Mase - Happy 14 months bud! You've changed so much in the last month. You're fully engrained into the rhythm and processes of the infant/toddler room, which is way cooler than the infant room. They give you finger paint almost every day. You read books and go for walks and play on the playground. You did some of that stuff in the infant room too, but now you actually get the majority of the paint on the paper and not in your hair and you eat way less mulch.

You paved the way your buddy Harry, who joined you this week and although he doesn't show it, is glad that you were there first to figure out the ropes before he got thrown in. I'm sure you two miss your days as a baby gang; as the only walkers in the infant room, you terrorized the other babies, stealing toys, and walking around like you owned the place while Rory, Sam, and Cory just laid there like bumps on a log. 

The toddler room has taught you about more than finger paint. The two year olds in that room have been a bad influence, and you can now throw a temper tantrum with the best of 'em. I think you're also at the stage when you think you can talk, but the words just aren't coming out right, and you look at Ama and me as if to say, "hey a-holes, I'm making myself perfectly clear. I want some grapes!" We have tried to teach you a few signs, and you have picked up the sign for "more" which has come in handy at dinner time in terms of avoiding that point when we give you more and instead of taking it, you fling it across the room. Now we ask you if you want more, and you sign back "more" or you shake your head no.... well, 50% of the time you do that; the rest of the time the dogs get an added treat and the walls get to double as a Jackson Pollock exhibit.

You're also super clingy this month. It's posed some interesting challenges - folding laundry, making your lunch, or changing my underwear is considerably harder while holding you. I'm not gonna lie, I've contemplated going two days in a row with the same skivvies just to avoid putting you down and listening to you wail (don't worry, mom, I said "contemplated" -- I would never *actually* do that). 

Sometimes I feel myself getting annoyed or frustrated that you insist on being held, but as soon as the the thought comes into my head it vanishes because I just think of your cousins. Ryan is going to be 15 in a few days, and he's a full on man. He's taller than me, has a six pack, and has a deep voice. He used to snuggle with me all the time. Now if I hug him, he'd probably tell me to "stop being so f-ing queer, auntie." All three of your Holdgate cousins are bigger than Ama, even Jack. Ok, that's not a huge feat, she is a midget after all, but still...It wasn't so long ago I used to hang Mackenzie upside down by her feet and say "you're not a bat" (a trick you were fond of as well), or get voicemails from Ryan saying "My wub you auntie sawah", or Jack would die laughing at a rousing game of "hide auntie's birkenstock" (hey - it was the 90s, gimme a break).

Anyway, my point is this, you're already HUGE. You used to fit in the bend of my arm, and now you take up my whole torso and your legs dangle over the side when I rock you before bed. You were sick this weekend (again) and despite your 104 fever which turned you into an atomic fireball, I didn't put you down at all. We sweated through our clothes together, but I didn't put you down until you were really asleep. Maybe I'm babying you and causing bad habits, but I don't really care. I figure I only have a few thousand snuggles left, and while a few thousand seems like a big number at first blush, the thought there is a finite amount of snuggles with you in my future makes me want to prolong every one. If you're a mama's boy getting your ass kicked at 15, sorry about that. Add it to the list of the many things I'm sure I'll screw up along the way.

I love you buddy. 

 

 

Did I Really Just Say That? - Installment 1

Motherhood has brought many interesting developments, challenges, and celebrations to my life, and I frequently find myself saying things that just sound, well, like stuff I never would have said before having kids. Upon reflection, I'm sorry haven't captured more of them, so today I'm starting a new series: "Did I Really Just Say That?" Kind of like the McAuley-mom version of "Overheard in New York."

Installment One:

"It was very pale, kind of the color of oatmeal, and pasty like peanut butter. Should I be alarmed?" (Left on pediatrician's voicemail in regards to Mason's poop.)

Celebrating Year One

I'm a month and a half overdue, but I made a video of Mason's first year.

My Sophisticated Palate

The Scene: Walking through BJ's Wholesale Club with a cart overflowing with giant boxes of diapers, wipes, and various other mom-like necessities. Mason is in the cart trying to squirm his way out of the seatbelt (and nearly succeeding. Little f-er is getting strong).

Woman: Excuse me, how old is your son?

Me: A little over a year.

Woman: When did he starting eating those? (Pointing to the giant tub of animal crackers)

Me (with more than a little shame): Oh, those are for me. 

 

 

My Sophisticated Palate

The Scene: Walking through BJ's Wholesale Club with a cart overflowing with giant boxes of diapers, wipes, and various other mom-like necessities. Mason is in the cart trying to squirm his way out of the seatbelt (and nearly succeeding. Little f-er is getting strong).

Woman: Excuse me, how old is your son?

Me: A little over a year.

Woman: When did he starting eating those? (Pointing to the giant tub of animal crackers)

Me (with more than a little shame): Oh, those are for me. 

 

 

Mason 1.1

One year and one month, or lucky number 13. This month you graduated from the infant room to the Infant/Toddler room. This is a big deal for lots of reasons. You now have a set naptime - the whole room goes lights out from 1-3 pm and you sleep not in a crib, but on a little cot (don't worry - it's only about 2 inches off the ground, so even if you rollover, you'll be ok). You eat your lunch at a little table with your classmates, and I hear snack time is something like Lord of the Flies, when they put a plate of yummy goodness in the middle of the table and toddler fists go flying, trying to secure that perfect bite of hummus or whatever else they're serving that day. Perhaps the biggest difference is the impact the toddler room has had on your mobility. Before the switch, you were content to rely on a nice hybrid of crawling and walking. You could walk -- you just often chose not to. It took about a day of playing with the big kids before you realized that crawling was for babies and you're a big kid. The folks at daycare actually tried to make your transition nice and smooth by having  you do half time in the infant room for 2 weeks, but you were having none of it. They tried to keep you in the infant room after your nap, but I'm told that you hollered and screamed until they let you go back to play with the big kids. Have I mentioned that you've developed a very strong sense of will?

Seeing how fast your life is changing made me realize how much Ama and my life has changed. It wasn't big and drastic, but rather a little at a time. Not all that many years ago, I could stay awake past 10 pm. I'd sleep in til 8:30 or 9, lazily grab coffee and breakfast, and maybe get dressed some time around 10. Now, I'm up somewhere between 3:30 am (bad day) and 5:30 am (good day), though you can usually be coaxed back to sleep for a few hours if we give you a sippy cup of milk. No matter what, though, we usually start our weekends by 7:30 am at the latest. These days I spend my weekends doing my best Martha Stewart impression. This weekend, for example, I did multiple loads of laundry, went to two different grocery stores because the Shaws doesn't have enough organic produce (and yes, I'm *that* mom), turned my leftover grilled curry chicken into chicken salad (because I'm fancy and have learned not to waste anything, even if I didn't really care for it the first time around, which is good because the chicken salad was way better than the plain grilled version), made a big batch of carrot ginger soup, made homemade applesauce (with a little leftover ginger from the soup, ya know, to mix it up a little, mmmm), baked some plain chicken and green beans for your lunch tomorrow, and made a batch of enchiladas for Ama and me for tonight with enough left over to freeze. I do that now... think about having stuff left over to freeze. I never would have done that before, but now I have a new appreciation for what it means to come home from work with literally zero energy to cook, so I try to plan ahead (The enchiladas are sitting in the freezer next to a lasagna I made two weekends ago and half the batch of carrot ginger soup).

Perhaps the most immediately exciting thing to happen lately is the combination of daylight savings and warmer weather. Our living room is pretty tiny, so the prospect of a lot more outdoor playtime is really exciting. We took a nice walk to the playground where you thought it would be hilarious to do a snow angel in the mulch. It's ok -- what's a little more laundry? We then took a nice long walk to CVS to pick up your prescription, because your track as petri dish is going strong and you have now contracted conjunctivitis, one of the more disgusting ailments for toddlers. Thankfully Ama is in charge of administiring the medicine in your eyes. My only job is to hold you still, which I can only do by closing my eyes and pretending I can't hear you wail, and to give you kisses when it's done.

Writing all of this down, it might sound a little like I'm complaining - laundry, cooking, shopping (and I didn't even mention the 45 minutes of picking up dog poop from the side yard that we ignored all winter or giving Keela a bath), but it actually couldn't be further from the truth. I love our weekends. My weekends have purpose and feel productive, and since I see so little of you all week, it's so nice to hang with you on the weekends, especially now that you're a little person. Don't get me wrong - a housekeeper and personal assistant would be a godsend, but all in all, I love every second. This weekend was especially great because Ama got to take a little break from studying, and we went down to the Cape to see cousin Mackenzie play in the Cape and Island League All- Star basketball game.  It's especially nice because she's been working so super hard lately, so that the next time you contract some icky daycare cootie, we won't even have to go to the doctor. 

Happy lucky 13 buddy. I love you. 

 

Mason's first graduation

Mason has graduated from the Infant Room to the Infant/Toddler room. This is very big news (maybe more so for me than for him). 

Weird Comment Spam - that I'm going to keep

I've been seeing a lot of random comments popping up here and there on old posts, but the odd thing is, they're all about books - and in one case, about one of my favorite books (Power of One). The authors are all linked to facebook profiles, so it doesn't seem like some company that hired an SEO company or bot to do comment seeding. The comments are also really articulate, which made me think at first someone had just accidentally commented on the wrong post. Very strange. Are other bloggers seeing this? 

Online shopping fail

I bought a few pairs of pants for mason online. When I got the confirmation order email, I realized I accidentally bought him "skinny jeans." Oops.