She Likes Purple

Time is Kind of a Bitch

Kyle uses a step-stool to brush his teeth and turn on the light in the bathroom when he needs it. He used to stretch to the sink even when he was standing on the top step and each day, as he grows, I can see that there is an end to him needing it. A year or two, I don't know how long it'll take. But we'll toss the step-stool into our garage one of these days, just like we tossed every toy or baby tool before it. We won't need it one day. That's just how it goes.

Every time I look into my purse, there are matchbox cars or legos or sippy cups. (It's a big purse, yes.) I smile each time. A piece of my little guy, when I'm in a meeting or at lunch or at the store without him. It's comforting, it's everything.

One day those reminders will be tossed out, too.

(Wow, this got SAD and quick.)

What I really wanted to say, to capture in one quick post, was that I have a step-stool in my (very small) bathroom that I often stub my toes on and legos in my purse that I often stab my fingers on, and ohhhhh do I wish they could stay there forever.

Bring it, Holidays.

Lights up BEFORE Thanksgiving, like holiday bosses. (I would have put our lights up in July and by I, I mean Mike, but he wouldn't. Scrooge.)

I look at this photo and realize that while Texas may not technically be part of the South, it's a very Southern thing to put up Christmas lights in t-shirts. Promise it was 70ish when this photo was snapped! We're not forcing manual labor without the proper wardrobe!

I also have our Christmas menu all figured out. (Post to come.)

I'm excited about the holidays this year, if you couldn't tell. Partly because my sister and her family are coming to celebrate with us, for the first time ever (as a family), partly because my Christmas menu includes mimosas and carbs, and partly because I hope my mom buys me SOMETHING off this list. She's usually the one I can count on to (not really) surprise me with one thing I (really) want.

Good things, basically. The next month is full of good things.

(Continually updating our holiday plan here! Two cross-outs already. HOLIDAY BOSSES.)

Conversations

You know what I wasn't really expecting from age three? I wasn't expecting to have conversations with Kyle like he's just another person I speak to in the course of my day. Which sounds ridiculous, I know, especially considering how often I spoke to three year olds before Kyle. But, still, the conversations have caught me by surprise. For example, while I'm brushing my teeth in the morning, Kyle will yell from his room about not being able to find a particular jacket he wants to wear and then I'll hear him mumble under his breath, "I thought it was right here." What is that? That's something a PERSON would say, a person with thoughts and opinions and memories completely apart from me. It's mind-blowing in an almost better way than the first steps and first words and first other things were.

I'll say, "Let's go to Target, we need hummus and paper towels and..." "I think we need juice, too." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah, I think we're out." LIKE HE'S JUST A PERSON, WHO NOTICES OUR JUICE LEVELS.

I was always more excited about having a child than I was about having a baby, if I'm being totally straight with you. Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE BABIES. I love holding babies and buying things for babies and throwing baby showers and...handing babies back to their mothers. Give me a KID, that's more my speed. Still, I'm just repeatedly shocked, stunned, floored by how cool it is to have an actual conversation about football or Thanksgiving or new shoes with a person I MADE. I made him! And now I'm giving him an abbreviated story of the first Thanksgiving (minus all the plagues and deaths and stuff) and while I tell him about it, HE NODS. HE NODS AND RETAINS THE INFORMATION.

He's in this phase where he's starting to hear words I don't want him to repeat. Words like dumb and chubby (Tangled, what's up with the use of THAT?) and stupid and other words I just don't want him to use so flippantly and without thought. So, we tell him these words aren't nice or sweet and we should try to choose other words. Somehow, this has made him hesitant to use ANY word he's unfamiliar with. "Mommy, can I say the word...spectacular?" I just...the brain of a three year old. Guys, it's THE BEST THING EVER. (Also, yes. You can call your mother spectacular.)

Speaking of Tangled, we watched it this weekend for the first time and I loved the paper lanterns. You may remember we did this in Vieques (and nearly set the entire island on fire) and I've bought some to let go in our backyard for my 31st birthday. So, when we watched Tangled I said, "Oh, I want to do that for my birthday!" and when we watched the movie for a second time, Kyle turned to me when they first lit the lanterns and said, "Mommy, we're going to do that for your birthday. It's going to be beautiful."

We were getting groceries out of the car just tonight and Molly wandered out of the yard (AS SHE DOES) and Kyle said, "Oh, Molly! Get out of the street. Mom, she's in the street again." He was just potty-trained THIS YEAR and now he's rolling his eyes at Molly's disobedience WITH US. It's something else. It's really something else.

He's such a person, and I know this isn't NEWS and I'm not the first mother on earth to raise a baby into a person, but I have to tell you, there is the Grand Canyon and the Pyramids and Arches National Park (which literally caught my breath in my throat) and the Northern Lights and democracy and all those lions-and-puppies-as-friends YouTube videos and then there's having a real conversation with your child.

Miracles, all of them.

Kyle, YOU are spectacular.

Aging Grumpily

As Molly's gotten older, she's become...how do I say this...without causing shock...and disgust...an asshole. That probably still causes some shock and disgust, doesn't it? We still love her! Of course! She's our girl, always will be, but she's just constantly (metaphorically) flipping us off these days. 

For instance, if we leave a bag of food or candy on the counter, she'll get in that shit. She used to do this and, no lie, hide the bags and wrappers under her dog bed. We'd eventually find them and she'd run for the opposite side of the house or, no kidding, put herself in time-out. Now, we walk into our bedroom and it's like a Halloween troll broke in and raided the joint. Candy wrappers strewn about the room and Molly kind of looks at us like, "What? That stuff was delicious and I don't even care what happens next." 

When we tell her to get off the couch for whatever reason, she'll lift her head and give us a look like, "You'll have to physically make me. Sorry I'm not sorry." 

We joke that she's realizing she has more life behind her than in front (she's nine, not exactly ancient but not exactly a puppy either), and she's grabbing life by the horns, tattooing YOLO on her paw, etc.

It's hilarious, actually. Molly was such a nervous, rule-abiding dog for years. In college, we'd let her out in the front yard and she'd sit there for hours, sunning on the sidewalk, napping in the grass. She'd never run away or walk farther than the mailbox. Now, when I let her out to check the mail with me, I have to pull her in from sniffing the plants outside our fence. She's gotten petulant, basically.

Except, you know, she's still this good with the boy we brought home nearly four years ago and totally ruined her life with. 

Although as Rebecca said when I posted this on Instagram, she looks so long-suffering here. Always dramatic, that dog of ours.

I Had Forgotten

I found this email I sent Kyle on March 25, 2009. He had just hit seven weeks old the day before.

You make this adorable noise after you sneeze. I know you won't always make this noise and I already miss it, even though you still do it. It's my favorite sound in all the world.

I don't think he made that noise much longer after March 25th. I had forgotten all about it, quite honestly, until I read this email tonight. (Technically last night, once this posts.) But, shit, did I vividly hear it after reading.

What if I hadn't written it down? Never remembering that noise seems like such a cruel joke. Don't give us these beautiful things, life, if we won't remember them in three short years.

Write them down, life whispers back. Put them in a safe place. Visit that place often.

Damn, that noise was cute.

Seven-ish week-old Kyle, because this blog was never cuter than when there were baby pictures on it. 

(Molly is so pissed at me for that last line right now.)

Halloween 2012

A few months ago, I asked Kyle what he wanted to be for Halloween. I wasn't sure how he would answer this question because he's three. I can ask him what he wants for dinner, and that question somehow launches him into a re-telling of the funniest scene in Ratatouille. I love this age, I really do, but I can't begin to understand its thought process.

Anyway, he said he wanted to be a firefighter. Or maybe Spider-man. (A movie/cartoon he's never seen. THANKS, KYLE'S PEERS.) I was really pulling for firefighter, of course. It felt age-appropriate and adorable. It also felt free, as Kyle's older cousin had a costume I was pretty sure he could borrow. Free is so much cooler than a superhero in tights.

Everything was solidified when he got to try on the costume this summer, at his cousin's house. Yep, he was sold. (PHEW.) We had his costume squared away months in advance, and I kind of felt like a parenting rockstar. Except when I remembered the time I completely forgot about Halloween.

We had to bail on our plans for trick-or-treating this year, which totally sucked, but we spent the night in my in-laws' neighborhood, which was a nice consolation prize. Kyle was adorable and by the end, he made us wait for him at the curb of each house. "I can do it myself and you're not wearing a costume anyway," he told me. Ooookay.

He was wearing boots with his costume and I think they were a little uncomfortable because he eventually told us he was getting tired and was about done. We had just a couple more houses so we talked him into finishing those before we made it back to my in-laws. When he went up to the next house and the man asked him a question (that I couldn't hear), he said very loudly, "Trick-or-treat, my legs are tired." KIDS, THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE KIDS.

Also, for photo opps like this:

On the way home, Mike got the genius idea to swing by the fire station. They had to be passing out candy, he said, and it was easily the best decision we've made in a month. I say "we" even though it was Mike's idea because taking credit for his brilliance is a perk of marriage. It balances the impossible name he gave me.

Kyle was shy at first but warmed up quickly, as is Kyle's nature. He kept saying, "I'm a firefighter TOO!" The fireman on duty was incredible and I think we'll bake him cookies some time soon, to thank him for his awesomeness. There are just not enough kind words that would do him justice. He was warm, and he humored the hell out of my three year old (and us), all with a grin, and then he gave Kyle DOZENS of pieces of candy on top of everything else. Seriously, he's my hero of the week, that man.

Halloween was a win all around. Kyle said before bed, "I think we should go trick-or-treating tomorrow."

Bonus pumpkin patch picture, from this past weekend:

I hope you had a fun Halloween, too. Mostly, I hope you got to steal the good stuff after the kids went to sleep. Until next year...

All About Cranberry Juice

I haven't written Kyle's birth story yet and it's safe to say that's probably never going to happen. I mean, the kid is going to be four (omg) in February, so I think that particular blogging ship has sailed. This is actually okay with me, though. It was such a perfect day, it's kind of nice to keep it all to myself. (I often say the nine months before and the two months after were hell but those two days in the hospital were pure perfection.)

One tiny little tidbit of a thing that came back to me tonight, though--as I was looking in the fridge in our garage and noticed a random  bottle of cranberry juice that someone left at our house--was how we had free reign over the juice fridge in our hospital. I would send Mike down the hall once an hour, it felt like, on strict orders to fetch a giant cup of ice pellets and a couple containers of cranberry juice, so I could pour the latter over the former and chug it down. It had been years since I'd had cranberry juice, but it was just delicious after nine months of being sick, sick, sick. I don't know if there will ever be a good way to describe the awfulness that is puking at nine months pregnant from nausea AND heartburn. COMBINED!

That cranberry juice somehow made me feel normal after so many months of feeling the absolute opposite of normal. Feeling horrible, feeling awful, feeling humbled by how many public places I threw up in. I could enjoy eating and drinking things again! GIVE ME ALL THE CRANBERRY JUICE. (Also all the cupcakes and donuts. ALL OF THEM.)

It was so long ago, being pregnant, having Kyle, taking a newborn home, utterly confused and shocked and scared as to what to do with him. I know how to parent Kyle of October 2012 just fiiiiine. I question myself at times, sure, but most of the time I really don't. I'm his mom. A mom of an almost-four-year-old. We got this, you know.

Then I open our garage fridge and see a half-gallon of cranberry juice and catapult back to being in that hospital bed, holding my teeny-tiny boy, marveling at him--he was so much more beautiful than even my best pregnant moment could have dreamed him to be--and side-eyeing Mike into refilling the cranberry juice cup on my bedside table. Get me more delicious juice, babe, while I hold our delicious boy.

That's the thing about memory, you see, it's so far gone until it knocks us over flat with its presence. It's nothing until it's everything. It's a four-year-old boy kicking a soccer ball the wrong way down the field until it's a newborn with steel-blue eyes who looks at you like he's always known you (because he always has). Memory is dormant until it's all-encompassing. It's a planned blog post about (more) shoes until it's a blog post about how my tiny boy is now a soccer-ball chasing big boy.

He was the left and now he's the right.

It all came back in a cranberry-juice-soaked moment.

Sweet California

The first mistake I made when it came to our recent trip to Southern California--a trip to spend time with friends and to take Kyle to Disneyland--was to tell Kyle we were taking him to Disneyland. I have absolutely no idea WHY I did this except sometimes I make poor choices.

This was made all the worse by the fact that we arrived on Saturday morning and our day at Disneyland was Tuesday. Kyle absolutely broke the record for the number of times a three year old has asked, "Are we going to Disneyland now?" in a three-day time-span. Thankfully we had the beach, a beach house with a pool, friends and their adorable kids, pizza, ice cream, and a bunch of other consolation prizes. Still, learn from my mistake, friends! Surprise your kids with Disneyland news the morning of. Or as you are walking through the turnstile into the park. That's an even better idea.

Anyway, so California! We got to vacation there! It certainly redefines sunny, doesn't it? It's sunny the way sunny was intended to be. Not sunny that makes you want to stab things (that would be sunny in Texas) but sunny with an ocean breeze, sunny with just a slight chill at night, sunny without any stupid mosquitoes, sunny with a view. Mike has never had much interest in California, in general. Until he met me, he had no interest in ever visiting, but I slowly changed his mind (so much so that we got married at Lake Tahoe, totally his idea) and now I think he's fully in love. A few days with 80-degree temps and beachy views, and he started saying, "Yeah, we should find a way to get rich and buy a vacation home here." (I'll get right on that! My plan: either lottery rigging or straight-up bank robbing.)

California was good, very good, and my only complaint is that California isn't where I am right this moment.

Let's get to the pictures, shall we?

He hated the water, every drop of it.

Closed-eyed pre-schoolers, ruining family memories since forever.

Just a few people at the beach in California, on Labor Day.

Not bad.

He said, "What is that big blue pool?" Poor Texan.

You are shocked I enjoyed some champagne on vacation, aren't you?

It's always disappointing when you order a "large mimosa" and are brought something like this.

 

Oh, hey! I got to hang out with (and drink delicious drinks with) some S. California bloggers, all ladies I really really love and get to see in November at the Blathering. (Woo!)

I was a little worried Kyle would be timid with the Disney characters. He's just sort of a timid little dude in new situations. (He gets that from both parents, actually.) But he LOVED the characters and he wanted to see them all. (Pluto eluded us until the parade.)

Kyle's first rollercoaster! He loved it. That kid continues to surprise me.

MICKEY! You really can't tell--Kyle looks like he's always hanging out with Mickey, no bigs--but his mind was blown. Mickey was his top choice and when we walked into the room to see him, I could feel his excitment.

All the boys on the trip.

Kyle and his Nana.

Friends' kids holding hands. I KNOW, RIGHT?

I hope Kyle remembers the trip as I hope he remembers all his trips--an extra bright spot in an already bright life. That's exactly what they mean to me.

We miss you already, California.

(All the delicious food we ate coming next week!)

Ten (Not-So) Quick Takes Because I'm Feeling Chatty

1. I read to Kyle almost every night. This is simply My Thing in our house, even if Mike is around. No matter who does the PJ wrangling, the tooth-brushing reminding, the "STOP STALLING" yelling, I am the one to snuggle in with him to read a couple books. This is one thing I own in our house, this job of Book Reader, and it's a real full-circle kind-of role because if you ask me what I remember most about my own mother from my own childhood, I will tell you how she read to me. How she read so lovely, how she always seemed her most perfect self when she was reading to me, and every night I hoped hoped hoped she would read just one more book. Every night Kyle asks for just one more book.

Anyway, that was a very sweet lead-up to THIS: tonight as I finished up his book of choice (it's been Berenstain Bears' Picnic for like a solid month), I gave him a hug, a dozen kisses, another hug, and then he cupped my face in his hands and said oh-so sweetly, "Mommy can I give you a high-five on your cheek?" "That's called hitting, Kyle." "NO! NO IT'S NOT!" "Well whatever euphemism you've chosen, the answer is no."

Kids, man.

2. We're headed to California this weekend. I know, how did that happen? I am such a ridiculous vacation planner that trips are scheduled and booked and researched MONTHS and MONTHS in advance and then I shelve them and then they sneak the fuck up on me and all of the sudden we're on a plane and that's got to be confusing for the people in our lives and in our computers.

Anyway, we're going to celebrate a friend's 30th birthday. (Cherie! You know Cherie! She's the better half of Cherry Jean and she's also one of the best friends a person could ever hope to have.) She was so kind as to come to Vegas for my 30th birthday, so we had to reciprocate. We're taking the whole family on this trip (well, except Molly and let's not bring that up, she's bitter) and we're hitting the beach and going to Disneyland and also drinking adult drinks after our children go to sleep, oh yes.

When you ask Kyle what he's most excited about in California, he'll tell you 1) Riding on a whale (I've no clue) or 2) Legoland (Which we've not mentioned to him being in California because Legoland is 20 minutes from our house. IN TEXAS. Again I've no clue.)

Let's cross our fingers his mind is properly blown at Disneyland and I'm not going to have to guilt my three year old into humoring me.

3. THE BLATHERING SOLD OUT. I keep saying (to myself, to Mike, to the random internet friend who will listen to me) that it feels like a helluva lot of of hard work met a helluva lot of good luck. I'm just so excited we have our official people! And I'd now like to think about my Blathering Wardrobe. Here's where you come in. Saturday night is a wee bit fancier than the rest of the weekend and I want to get a new dress. Which do you prefer:

On the left is this one, and I'd color it up with a black blazer and black heels (maybe red/orange accessories?). On the right, the dress speaks for itself (check out the back) but I have no idea what shoes I'd wear. Black, maybe?

WHICH WOULD YOU PICK? WHAT WOULD YOU WEAR WITH EACH? (Heeelp!)

4. Mumford & Sons has a new album coming out next month (9/25!) and, guys, I'm an insane amount of excited. I actually thought to myself, "I should take off work to listen to the album on repeat all day," but then I realized I'd be out of town on a work trip that specific day, so taking the day off might be a wee bit problematic.

5. I taught my kid some yoga.

Speaking of yoga, in class the other day I thought to myself, "Wow, child's pose is awesome. I'd like a full yoga class with just this one pose." WHICH IS BASICALLY ONE STEP ABOVE NAPPING. It's basically stretching on the couch during an episode of The Vampire Diaries. I invented that.

6. On Style Lush, Hillary, one of my absolute favorites, asked what your timeless, classic, always-on-repeat albums are. I answered with indie folk, Texas country, and Christian worship. I confuse even myself, to be honest. What are yours?

7. I recently remembered something really wonderful and sweet my dad said to me on my wedding day. I hadn't remembered until then, and, wow, I wish I had remembered sooner.

8. Have I told you my sister is coming to Texas for Christmas? Rachel hasn't visited since Kyle was a baby, and her entire family has never been, and my boy has never met her boy, and I'm SO CRAZY EXCITED. I really am. I text her often with questions like, "Do you like wine trains?" and other things like "We're picking the Mexican restaurant, it'll be delicious, we promise/hope."

I can't remember the last Christmas morning I spent with both my mom and my sister. Don't judge if I put our tree up October 1st, and have already nearly planned our entire Christmas menu.

9. I have started a Facebook policy that is basically this: If you're an asshole, I'll unfriend you. I don't care if I shouldn't unfriend you, if you're my cousin's best friend and I might run into you at some random picnic in a couple years. I especially don't care if my only tie to you is high school English. If you are being stupid and saying thoughtless, mean things, I'm just going to go ahead and rid my social media life of you, instead of trying to make you see the error or your ways (which you won't). This has led to my Facebook feed being a very pleasant place to be. I rarely get riled up (by Facebook) and I think I may survive this election after all.

10. Mark your calendars, my friends, Sons of Anarchy returns 9/11. I'm thinking of recapping the episodes here, for no other reason than I REALLY WANT TO. Also, the promos stress me out already. The actual show is going to bring out the ALL CAPS, I am sure, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Sponsored Post: LeapFrog Touch Rockin' Guitar

 

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I know! Another sponsored post. What is UP with that? I've apparently run out of non-sponsored thoughts. Kidding, kidding! (You know I could easily fill another week's worth of posts on what I miss most about Veronica Mars. LIKE TODAY I COULD DO THAT.) Anyyyyway, as you may remember, I jumped at the chance to review toys for Kyle through Clever Girls Collective beacuse I suck at picking out toys for him, and LeapFrog requested the reviews be broken into two posts.

Anyway, the other toy we got was a LeapFrog Touch Rockin' Guitar.

(Photo from leapfrog.com)

This is one of those toys that's a big hit with every kid that's ever liked making a lot of music-y noise and that would definitely my kid. It's less of a hit with, say, anyone who has to pay their own taxes.

(Funny side note: Whenever Kyle asks to do something he absolutely cannot do--like drive a car or stay home by himself--my default has been to say, "When you can pay taxes, I'll think about it." It usually confuses him enough so his attention turns elsewhere. Feel free to use that trick yourself!)

I don't actually mind noisy toys, I should say. If a toy keeps Kyle happy, I've always been inclined to Fully Support It. If it's noisy, keeps him happy, AND is educational (like the Touch Magic Learning Bus), I am not going to discourage playing with it, oh nooooo. The Rockin' Guitar definitely checked the first two boxes, which rates it just below the Learning Bus, but it's something Kyle really loved and enjoyed (and I bet your three year old or the three year old you most shop for would love and enjoy it, too). Which is good! I don't need to play with ALL his toys once he's gone to sleep, and it was pretty adorable watching him try to rock out on this.

One of these days I'll share photos online withour my disaster of a house in the background. One day far, far in the future when I clean my house.

You touch a variety of images on the guitar, and different music/percussion plays and that kind of blows your kid's mind. They also look like little rockstars, which allows you to fantasize that they'll BECOME rockstars one day and take very good care of you. (Although, admittedly, I'd rather Kyle become the next Olympic star and take care of me that way. Mostly so I can get featured in a sobs-inducing "thanks mom" commercial.)

So, if you're looking for something fun, awesome (according to kids), and also kind of adorable, I'd suggest this! You can't go wrong with toys that make your kids look adorable, I think that's written in stone somewhere.

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Oh! You might have noticed at the top of this post a mention of a contest LeapFrog is currently hosting. If you get the Rockin' Guitar and take a video of your kid rocking out on it (and why WOULDN'T you take video of your kid rocking out on it?), then share that video, you might possibly win $500. That's fun, right? More info here!

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I was selected for this opportunity as a member of Clever Girls Collective and was given free product by LeapFrog.  The content and opinions expressed here are all my own.

Soccer Mom

Here's a piece of advice: if you've never watched three year olds practice soccer, fix that immediately. It'll be the most adorable thing you've ever witnessed and why deprive yourself of that much adorableness? (Although, you know, make sure it's your own child or a child you know and love so you can avoid being the stranger creeping on the the soccer field.)

Kyle had his first soccer practice yesterday and if you're wondering How the heck did that kid get old enough to play soccer?, well, YOU AND ME BOTH. I'm struggling to wrap my head around the speed with which he's growing, but it's still so damn awesome to watch him grow.

Thankfully, he's on a team with a few friends from school so instead of shyly watching from the sidelines (what I suspect his response would have been if he hadn't known any of the other kids) he jumped right in, listening attentively and adorably for the first half of class and then, well, breaking down into hysterical silliness with his friends the last half. "Oh look at him dribble so well! He's even correctly using the inside of his fo---no wait, now he's purposefully fallen down and trying to make his friend laugh by, wait, is he kicking himself?" 

As I kept saying to the other parents: Three year olds, right?

I'm also the Soccer Mom, as in the Team Manager. So far, all this really means is I'm in charge of organizing the end-of-year party. And, yeah, SOLD. I AM ALL OVER THAT. There is a Pinterest board just waiting to be started, let me tell you. Mike is the assistant coach, and this might be his proudest parenting moment to date. He played soccer all through school and when he was told he was going to be a dad, I bet "I get to be a soccer coach one day" was his first thought right after "well, Jennie's about to get even more emotional for a while. That's swell." One thing about Mike, though, is that he's really awful with names. (See the time he thought he dated Kelly Clarkson.) (Spoiler: He didn't actually date Kelly Clarkson.) I could tell he was trying hard to quickly learn the kids' names last night, but it was rather hilarious to hear him from the stands, "Great job....buddy!" "Awesome dribbling....you!" He'll get there, and Kyle will have a blast in the meantime.

Me? Well, no shock, I'll be the one tearing up in the stands.

He's just so big.

Sponsored Post: LeapFrog Touch Magic Alphabet Bus Review

 

 

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Here's a secret: I'm really bad at picking out toys for Kyle and always have been. I've been leaning on the advice of friends and family and straight-up hand-me-downs since he was born. Whenever someone asks for a gift idea for a kid Kyle's age or younger, I look at them like, Uh, maybe a gift card? Cash? Oh, books! Those are always welcome, right?

The toys that do top his Awesome List are usually ones he got from someone else. Thank goodness the kid has other people in his life. Although, he does have an impressive book collection courtesy of his mom, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

All that said, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that when I got the chance to review the LeapFrog Magic Alphabet Bus through Clever Girls Collective, I was game. (Although, shhh, this time I could pretend I picked it out myself to earn back some toy-picking-out credibility with my three-year-old.)

This is a pretty great toy for the three-year-old set--well, at least my three-year-old--because he's at the age where he's all about letters and spelling words and "what does COW start with, Mommy?" There are a few options on the toy--learning letters through sounds, music, or games--and they all got big laughs out of Kyle, which is a win in my book. (Although for the letter option, whenever you tap a letter, it responds with the letter and the corresponding picture--"a as in apple"--and that made it a little confusing to spell out original words Kyle was narrating to me. Small thing I'd change!)

The toy itself is super lightweight and takes up almost no room, which is good since we have about five total feet for toys in our 1300-square-foot house.

There's also a pretty cool keyboard that Mike and I made up songs on once Kyle went to sleep, in case you're looking for a toy that you can also act like a fool with once the kids are tucked in bed. (If this weren't a sponsored post, I might add something about having a few glasses of wine before playing original songs on your kid's Touch Magic toy to maximize awesomeness, but I am far more professional than that OBVIOUSLY.) 

It IS a great toy, though, and I'm actually planning to buy it for an upcoming birthday present because it's the best gift idea I've come up with (sort of on my own?) in months.

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I was selected for this opportunity as a member of Clever Girls Collective and was given free product by LeapFrog. The content and opinions expressed here are all my own.

Halfway to Four

This dude is three and a half, officially, which delights him. He even stopped a few strangers in the grocery store tonight to tell them, "It's my half birthday today!" Praise the strangers who smiled in return.

He uses the word "actually" correctly now, and he starts all his negotiations with "How about..." followed by some ridiculously unrealistic proposal. "How about....I watch nine Curious Georges?"

He is shy in new situations and sticks close to me but once he warms up, boy does he shine.

He's so perceptive, so observant, that it just continues to blow my mind. Today, we stopped at Subway so I could get a sandwich. I got back in the car with that sandwich and a bottle of water and he said, "Mommy, you got water! Because you don't drink Diet Coke anymore." I maybe mentioned this to him once, in the grocery store a couple weeks before, and he remembered. Harvard-bound memory skills right there, am I right? (I know I'm not right but STILL.)

His personality and imagination are on fire lately. The other day we were kicking a mini-soccer ball around the living room and he held up a finger to stop me, pulled his play cellphone from his pocket (the one I didn't know was in there) and proceeded to have a pretend conversation with his Nana. He flipped it close, turned back to me, and said, "That was just Nana. Your turn now."

While I loved age two to the moon and back and will always sing its praises, I feel pretty lucky for age three so far, half-way through. The questions are relentless, the boundary testing is constant, the attitude is popping up, all true statements, but I expected all of that. I often say that age three requires me to be a much different parent than I was a year ago, that I can't give age three an inch or it'll take 95 miles, that I have to be "on" so much of the time, but if I rise to the challenge, he's the same incredible kid he's always been. Still so full of sunshine and smiles. So sweet, so warm, so easy to talk with and hang out with and BE with, that I just continue to feel like THIS BOY, MY GOODNESS, is really something else.

I often wonder if I'm good enough for him, doing right and best and all that. All normal things moms question about themselves all the time. Are his memories happy? Does he know how much I love him? Is he growing up to be just who he is meant to be? How much therapy will he REALLY need? Will he call home when he's 25? And on and on.

Then, 6:30 a.m. rolls around, he calls out that he's awake and I go in (so sleepily) to get him. He claps, he warps his arms around my neck, he whispers "I love you, Mommy," and I figure we're doing just fine.

Halfway from three, halfway to four. So good today.

(Just so you know, kid, if you don't call home when you're 25, I'll just keep calling until you answer.) 

Seven Quick Takes: Family Issues, Taylor Kitsch, Smoothies + More

1. My dad was in Texas this past weekend, visiting for a couple days. Kyle hasn't seen him since he visited last summer, so it was great that he took to my dad so quickly. He even asked for him over and over after we dropped him off at the airport yesterday morning. My relationship with my dad is ... complicated (mostly complicated for me, admittedly) but it was still a good visit. I appreciated that he complimented our newly cleaned house and our tiny town and my sweet boy. (He called Kyle "perfect" and although he's not, ohgodno, his grandpa should think he is, so it was nice to hear.)

A visit with him stirs up so much in my head and heart, and I'm still waiting for the stirring to settle. Still, it was good to see him. It was good for Kyle to see him.

 2. Let's move on from Family Issues with an uplifting note on Savages (ha), which we saw while my dad was in town (heads-up: kind of an awkward movie to see with your father) and despite it being hide-behind-my-hands violent, I actually liked it. Taylor Kitsch redeems all those John Carter Battlestar Whatever Movies and brings the Tim Riggins-level appeal (apparently what Tim Riggins was missing all this time was FACIAL SCARS, who knew!) and Blake Lively even made me hate her a little less.

I don't know that I'd recommend it--man, it's just so violent and I know there are few people who seek out these kinds of movies--but I felt myself enjoying it in the middle of it, to my own surprise.

3. Hey, don't know if I mentioned it but a couple weeks ago we hosted Hometown week at Food Lush and Style Lush and I'm so crazy proud of the quality of the posts from that week. If you're visiting Texas, Chicago, New York City, California, and many other map dots, bookmark these posts, my friends!

4. My mom and I recently saw Jersey Boys together, and it was such a perfect day. We took in an afternoon show and then had a delicious dinner followed by champagne and cupcakes at my mom's house. Kinda funny, though, while I had definitely heard dozens of Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons songs, I couldn't remember if Frankie Valli was one of the singers on the plane that tragically crashed in the '60s, so the whole time I'm bopping to "Oh What a Night" and "Sherry" and "Big Girls Don't Cry," I kept waiting for Frankie to die in an awful plane crash. (Spoiler alert: He was not on that plane.)

5. Kyle is in this (adorable) phase where everything is "super" something. "Daddy drives super fast!" "That toy is super cool!" "The plane we'll fly on is super big!" and, basically, Mike and I have adopted it in our own vocabularies. Forgive me, boss, if my next marketing plan is "super awesome" or something like that. It's just, man, this kid is cooler than I'll ever be.

6. This is kind of a silly thing to write about but I had the most delicious smoothie from Whole Foods last week and I am STILL THINKING ABOUT IT. My life is thrilling. I've begun talking about smoothies.

7. I'm gearing up to start training for another half-marathon (well, two, actually) this winter and that means training starts in a couple weeks. I'm adjusting last year's plan to take into account that the half-marathon I ran at the end of my training last year was pretty brutally awful those last three miles, and I'd like to feel more rockstar than puking-in-a-Luxor-trashcan this time around. I very highly doubt that I'll be recapping each week's training like I did last year, but I'm sure I'll still talk at length about the training. Really this is all just to warn you that things may get Running Heavy around these parts again after a very Running Light spring. (First things first, I need new shoes, and I think I need them to be a fun color this year.)

Perfect

I do this thing (maybe you do it too) where at the end of most days as I drift off to sleep, I survey all the things I didn't get done on that day's to-do list. Every day, there's something left un-crossed-off and those are the things I focus on at the end of most days.

I didn't do the laundry (again). I didn't buy more checks (for another week in a row). I didn't email that potential Style Lush sponsor. SHIT, THE WATER BILL. (Small Texas city, can you please embrace auto-draft bills already?) I also didn't paint those mason jars even though I bought those mason jars IN 2011 OMG JENNIE JUST PAINT THOSE MASON JARS ALREADY.

It's probably that I have too long a to-do list but it's also probably that there aren't enough hours in the day and then there's also the DVR I like to spend time with. Still, all the good reasons (and good TV) in all the world don't stop me from focusing on the un-crossed-off things on my list at the end of each day.

I am a perfectionist who will never be (close to) perfect, and no matter how easy it is to type that, it's impossible to swallow. It's easy to focus on what I don't get done on any given day, and it's just as easy to lose sight of everything else.

This past weekend, we drove a few hours south to spend time with our new niece. She was a week old, that delicious tiny baby, and I could have snuggled her for days on end. In fact, we did little else this weekend than lounge on the couch, watch Kyle play with his new train track on the hardwood floor and snuggle this new person who will one day be playing with her own toys on the hardwood floor but for the weekend just slept in our arms.

Kyle loved her -- "look at baby Ava!" -- and I loved her and Mike loved her and it's really beautiful to see a family grow and I don't mean that in the technical way, but it's just really beautiful to see hearts expand to welcome more people into the world.

Most days I kick myself over all I didn't get done (THE LAUNDRY, THE WATER BILL, MY GOD, THOSE MASON JARS) and then some days I lounge on a couch all weekend, snuggling a new baby I get to spoil rotten without every worrying about the ramifications of that spoiling while watching my sweet boy play on the floor and I think...I didn't accomplish a single thing this entire day and yet this day is one of the days I'll conjure up first when I begin conjuring up perfect days.

I'm not perfect, not even close, not even close on a good day.

But sometimes life is.

The Good & Not-As-Good of Age Three

The not-as-good

This. Still this.

Every cut, scratch, scrape, fall, etc., is the Most Dramatic Thing That Has Ever Happened and Cue All the Tears.

Eveyrthing in life takes at least 10 minutes even things that should take no more than 10 seconds. Things like walking to the car, brushing teeth, throwing something in the trash, picking up a book, joining me in the other room, answering a question.

He would like to do it himself unless he can actually do it himself or I'm driving and then he wants all the help.

He says "Oops! It was an accident!" a lot. (So, papertowels. We use more this age.)

Three words: Bedtime Stall Tactics. Some more words: "Mommy, I think I'd rather sleep with my eyes open on the couch tonight. Okay?" "Noooooooooot okay."

His filter and volume control aren't quite developed yet, obviously, so there are a lot of shouting questions like "WHY IS THAT PERSON SO BIG?" "MOMMY, WHY IS THAT GIRL'S HAIR SO CRAZY!" Sorry my child just ruined your day and your self-esteem!

The good

He has started playing independently more often. Not that I want him to usher me out of his room all the time, but he just goes in there, plays by himself, and then (get this) cleans up after himself when he's done.

He dramatically fake laughs at my jokes, and that's funnier than anything I could ever say.

He is proud of himself when he does something new or brave. He recently started a Little Gym class and was skittish and shy the first class but this past week, he was a rockstar. At the end of class, he burst through the door and shouted "MOMMY, I DID SO GOOD." I nearly died. On the spot. Of awesome pride over that kid.

Sitting somewhere for an extended period of time is possible now. We went to breakfast the other morning with friends, and he sat through most of it. We went to Mike's hockey game over the weekend (an hour+) and he sat through all of it. I didn't believe this day would ever come.

He is potty trained. (Has been, but I forgot to really talk about it.) I basically roll around in the money we're saving at the end of every day. Actually that's a lie, we've just re-invested that money into bathroom cleaning products, ahem.

He says "I love you" and not just in response to us saying it, which he's done for a while. He says it on his own. The other morning, he woke up, climbed into our bed to snuggle a minute, and said, "I love you, Mommy." The other night when I got home from work and leaned down to kiss his head, he said, "I love you, Mommy! Welcome home!" He will stop saying it one day, sure, but three is so generous with the love. I want to remember that.

He tells these elaborate, don't-make-a-bit-of-sense stories, and I love them so much.

He asks the best questions. "Mommy, who made this house for us?" "Mommy, why doesn't Molly have a car?" (Well, she's never gotten a job FOR ONE.) "Mommy, don't you think we should dance more often?"

Just like the ages that came before, his smile tops the good column, too.

So much more good. Always so much good.

All He Wanted for Father's Day Was Some Uninterrupted Garage Time.

Every year it's the same, thank everything that this kid has this dad.

Happy (day after) Father's Day, Mike! Your kid (and wife and dog) are crazy lucky to claim you as our own.

He Gets His (Lack of) Golf Skills from Mike

Whoa, you blink and a week passes between posts. I don't know how that happens either. Anyway, a drive-by post today to share some photos from Kyle's first mini-golf outing, from Memorial Day.

(Horrible photos courtesy of Mike's non-iPhone.)

Kyle would hit the ball something like nine dozen times before just picking it up, putting it riiiiiiiight next to the hole, and tapping it in. Then he'd shout, "HOLE IN ONE!" We'd cheer for him and tell him what an awesome golfer he was because there is time enough for giving it to him straight and that time is not at three, during mini-golf.

As we drove out of the parking lot, he said, "We should do that again sometime!"

Noted, my boy.

Seven Quick Takes

(My friend A'Dell does these "seven quick takes" posts from time to time -- she put one up last week, in fact -- and I'm blatantly stealing this idea from her because that's what you get to do when you're friends with smart people. Steal their ideas and then serve them cocktails so they'll forgive you.)

1. I actually meant that cocktail part literally. I made this lemon light cocktail for Kristie and A'Dell for Mother's Day, and it was delicious. Make one for yourself tonight because it's Wednesday and sometimes Wednesdays need cocktails.

2. I also posted on Style Lush about my (sad and pathetically) bare living room wall and how I need to do something with this wall before I just give Kyle a book of stickers and let him go to town. Anyway, I think I've very nearly narrowed it down between filling it with different canvas prints or a bunch of symmetrical (but very large) white framed photos of our travels. Anyone want to vote to sway me one way or the other?

3. I woke up terribly sick at about 2am this morning, and I was up most of the night and most of this morning awfully, horribly, miserably sick sick sick. I haven't been that sick since, well, Kyle. I'm not pregnant, no need to let your mind wander there, but oooooh did it remind me of being pregnant and it reminded me how sweet time can be, to make you forget how awful being that sick really is. (It is just so awful.) Anyway, I'm already feeling better, although not quite 100%, but I'm going to spend the next few days crossing every appendage I've got that my boys miss the puking bullet.

4. There are many posts flying around and pins being pinned about Fun Summer Activities, and while nothing really changes for my house this time of year it's no secret that I really hate summer. I loathe it, in fact. It's just hard to describe how miserable it can be here, especially coming off of last year's brutal summer. So, I'd like to plan some fun activities that help me enjoy the next few months instead of complaining day and night about the heat while never leaving the couch because it's JUST. SO. HOT. OMG. ANYWAY, all that to say, I hope to come up with my own Fun Summer Activity List soon.

5. I still owe you (as if you've been DYING for it) one last Puerto Rico post + the logistics and cost of the trip. That's a'coming! Soon. Ish.

6. Over the weekend, I was hanging up some clothes and Kyle came into our bedroom and said, "I need a hooker." I couldn't possibly have heard him right, so I asked him to repeat it and he said the same thing over. After many back and forths of "what do you need?" "A hooker!" I finally figured out that's what he was calling clothes hangers. This is the kind of entertaining thing you have to look forward to, moms of crying newborns. Instead of correcting him (that wouldn't be fun at all) I asked him to go ask Mike for one. So, he took off down the hall yelling, "Daddy! I need a hooker!"

(I just typed hooker so many times, the searches to my blog over the next few weeks should be fun!)

He looks sweet but the mouth on this kid!

7. These shoes are impossibly expensive but I love them.

Hot Bars

Kyle has called granola bars "hot bars" for as long as he could string two words together. I don't honestly know where it came from, I have a few guesses, but mainly I just found it adorable and loved it and never wanted him to call them by the right name.

Months and months ago, A'Dell and I were hanging out and she heard him say it and kind of looked at me sideways. "He still calls them hot bars?" I was as surprised as she was, that he was holding on to this so-wrong-but-so-cute pronunciation.

"I know! Don't correct him!"

Last night, at three years and almost four months, he reached into the pantry and said, "I want a ganola bar." Mike and I looked at each other over his head, a little sad about what we heard.

What I hate about so many of these parenting goodbyes is that you don't actually know you're saying them. I don't remember the last time he said "hot bar." I don't know if we have video of it. One day our own memories will fail us and what then? "Hot bar" may never exist at all. (I NEED TO PRINT THESE BLOG POSTS OUT, THAT'S WHAT.)

In all seriousness, that moment hit me harder than the no-more pacifier, no-more bottle, no-more crib, no-more diapers moments hit me. My baby is clearly no longer a baby, no confusion there, and I've been pretty okay with him getting older. (He just gets more awesome anyway.) Then he asked for a "ganola" bar and my heart sank.

I've been trying to figure out why and I guess it comes down to this: saying goodbye to phases and stages and milestones is expected and manageable. Saying goodbye to something that is so uniquely Kyle just sucks.

I'm giddy about who he's becoming and who we get to be together but saying goodbye to who he has been doesn't seem to get any easier.