Tuesday, July 29, 2008

What do you do when you vomit on the street?

Seriously, what is the etiquette? Are you obligated to find a few spare napkins and attempt to sop it up? Or if you were able to aim mostly on the median grassy area, can you feel free to just keep walking?

Let me be clear...I didn't know that I was going to vomit until about 5 seconds before it happened. We were out in a walk in a potential neighborhood that we are scouting for future homeowning. (Great impression, I realize). Far from the car.

I chose to keep walking and prayed that the sullen couple approaching with two miniature poodles were not witnesses to my vomit. Dave supported me. Spence was in the stroller and hardly took note of the tell tale hacking cough.

No, I was not drunk. Just pregnant. Again. And with a vicious case of all day sickness that even medicine cannot totally keep at bay.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Spence's Words

Truck (although it sounds more like "guk!"), bus, car.
Despite my best efforts, it appears that gender can flex in different ways. For Spence, perhaps its flexing more traditional "boy." For now.

Squirrel. Nice. Sometimes kitty.


Ears, eyes, nose.


He's also shaping up to be quite the listener. (Just like Papa.) When Eleanor started babbling at the pool, Spence turned to her to sign and say "more." She smilingly obliged. Multiple times.

Dave. (Clearly a sign that I need to cut back on my hollering after my husband for this or that...)

And yes, mama and papa.

Thursday, July 10, 2008


Yesterday, I introduced BBQ sauce to the boy.

It's my #1 favorite condiment of all times. Truly, my only condiment of choice. Unless chocolate sauce counts. Any son of mine has got to dig the stuff. I have fantastic memories of my mom and I making ribs and drenching them in the heavenly sauce. We could replicate...except for the ribs part.

I carefully cut up his boiled tofu pup and squirted a bit of KC's Masterpiece into one portion of his plate. I then modeled how the tastiness is done. He looked skeptical.

I dipped for him and handed the pup part. Normally, it is deadly to make eye contact with the boy while eating or hand any food directly to him. It will promptly end up on the floor for later hoovering. This time, the novelty of the dipping won him over.

He crinkled his nose. Shook his head. Then tried it himself. The tofu pup was scarfed with ample BBQ sauce in a matter of minutes.

Soon he was pointing to the Craisins. Then the watermelon. He dipped them in the ambrosia like a champ.

Like mama, like son.