Oh, did I mention

that Jude changed his own diaper again during nap time? This time he used the carpet as his wipe. He must have been concerned about how many he used last time, right? (Save the trees!) (And no, Jude is not that environmentally conscious). So, I came in to not only some serious skid-marks on the carpet (bless our nasty, brown-speckled Berber) but he'd decided to not let that colorful goop go to waste and he painted a few walls with some truly stunning modern designs (move over, Duchamp...). Can I just say it was decidedly less charming this time around?

Potty Training Himself

Yesterday when my brother went in to retrieve Jude from his quiet time, something was afoot. There was an open, poopy diaper on the floor next to a pile of thirteen wipes or so. Britt didn't think Mike or I would leave poopy diapers lying around, and use that many wipes, but maybe we'd let things slip? Also surprising, Jude had no pants on and some superman underwears on inside out. He hadn't realized we would hazard putting Jude down for a nap without a diaper, but maybe things had rapidly progressed in the 24 hours since we had last seen him. Britt put some pants on Jude and brought him down to us. Jude started playing and after a half hour or so, when giving Jude a hug, I noticed a serious lack of padding on Jude's normally diapered bum. Jude then informed us that he had changed his own diaper and put on his special underwears all by himself. A few seconds later, he told me he needed to urinate in the toilet (there is no "pee-pee in the potty" at our house, per Mike's insistence) and then he did. When I checked his bum, it was remarkably clean. Mike went up to investigate and the kid really did change his own diaper and put on his own undies. Oh, how I wish I could have seen that diaper change, least of all to see his technique. Hopefully next time he'll keep me in the loop.

Lately

We have been painting. Mostly, Jude, actually. Although I did take a crack at painting some awesome shapes the other day. My crescent was the most pathetic thing I've seen. It looked like a bloated "C." Jude, on the other hand, is making the most cutting-edge modern art. I'm seriously in love with it. We entitled his last masterpiece, "Purple snow falling on the barren earth."

We've been making Gabe laugh. We've been nibbling his toes. We've been counting his fat rolls.

We've been hanging out with cousins.

We've been trying to get Gabe to crawl. Jude and I do tummy time with him, enticing him to rock back and put one knee in front of the other with ridiculous coos and squeals.

We've been practicing our blue steel poses.

And finally, we've been reading lots. Jude can recite most books back to me. My favorite is when he quotes Wild Things and says, "Oh, please don't go; We'll eat you up we love you so."

Jude's prayer tonight "all by myself"

"Dear Heavenly Father, Grateful for Mommy Grateful for Daddy and Mommy and Daddy and Gabe and Jude and Gabe and breakfast and shower and exercise and Jesus Christ. Amen."

Cutting through the blah

Some days I feel like a loser. I don't feel like cleaning (=most days), I don't feel like cooking, I don't feel like exercising. And during those few fleeting moments of nap time, should they actually exist, I just want to curl up and sleep (this may have something to do with being up all night with Gabe on any given night. How do you get babies to sleep? SERIOUSLY, people! (P.S. Can you use horse tranquillizers at 6 months or do you have to wait until a year?)). I've figured out that there are things that help me change my attitude, and things that entrench me more deeply in my grey cloud of blah. Two things that help me feel better and re-energized are playing with my kids and taking pictures of them. How could these two dudes not cheer a gal up?

Jude loves to hold Gabe on his lap. However, the inevitable happens:

Gabe knocks Jude over. And Jude, squeals out from beneath his brother: "Mommy, Gabe knock Jude over. Gabe squashing me." (said breathlessly and wheezing as if a two-ton tractor had fallen on him)

Another thing that cheers me up is having conversations with Jude. A few choice ones of late have included:

Jude was petting my hair the other day and told me: "Mommy, you hair soft like a bunny." I'm starting the training on similes and metaphors early, my friends.

Jude, Gabe and I were sitting on the couch waiting for Mike to get home from school on a Saturday afternoon. We had just changed a round of diapers and Jude remained in only a diaper. He came up to me and said, "Mommy, Jude going bye-bye downstairs." And then he climbed on my lap, took my two cheeks in his hands and looked into my eyes and solemnly said. "Be brave, Mommy." And then he kissed my cheek and blew a kiss as he headed down into the void of our basement. I think I saw him salute just before the first step into the dark.

I was putting make-up on recently and Jude was watching. He asked why I was wearing make-up. I told him that sometimes women wear make-up. He replied. "Mommy a girl. Mommy a woman. Mommy a womanite." I'm guessing these stems from our discussions about Lamanites and Nephites.

Jude and I were hiding from daddy in the closet the other day and I asked Jude from whom we were hiding. He replied. "We hiding from a BIIIIIGGG monkey, a daddy monkey...with one fur...from the ceiling." At that point I trembled in fear.

And then there is our little teddy bear who is the most content baby during the day but is a terror at night. Luckily, he's darling.

Sunday in the Park aka gratuitous pictures of Jude running

Social grooming

Ask Him. He'll tell you he's 2.

It's the little man's 2nd birthday today. We officially have a two-year-old and we're feeling good. Luckily, we've been reading Miss Spider's Birthday ABCs and Jude screams "Surprise! Happy Birthday, Miss Spider!" every night, so he was well-prepared to wish himself a hearty happy birthday.

He loves the trains here in California and can hear one from miles and miles away, so I made him a "choo-choo" cake. It turned out a little ghetto, but he was distracted by the gummy bears and worms, as was I (why do those sour snakes look so tasty?!?!).

We had a little party for him with Grandma and Grandpa Bunnell and our good friends the MacDougalls. Here are the boys together: Finn, Duncan, and Jude. It was tough to get a picture of them together without their little fingers sneaking treats from the cake.

Jude got a "scooter" and is in deep love. He can't quite reach the pedals yet, but he insisted on scooting around on it all night and screaming "YAYYYYYYYYY!" randomly. He also insisted on safety and wearing a "helmie" (helmet). That's my boy.


Here are the party attendees:

"Crazy Eyes" Grandpa Bunnell
Jimmy "The Helmet" MacDougall
Holly "also pregnant with a boy" MacDougall (she made an awesome tie for Jude's birthday, pictures forthcoming....)
"Kare-Bear" Grandma Bunnell
Thanks to all for such a lovely birthday day for our boy!

Jude wanted to go to out wave goodbye to our guests. Goodbye friends!!!

***And yes, I am about to pop. The baby just better wait until we're back in Utah. Or else.

Chapstick: A Tutorial

1. Apply liberally to luscious lips. Be sure to stick the lips out to cover the maximum surface area.
2. Repeat, ya know, for softness and stuff. Lick in between applications.
2. Next, rub a bit into the nostril cavity, just for good measure
3. And the inner lips, too, for taste.
5. Completely ignore your mom's request to refrain from digging into the chap stick and gouge that sucker as far as your finger can go and get a good, healthy chunk. Lick finger, sucking off every last morsel of minty goodness.

4. Return the cap, or at least pretend to by sticking it onto the wrong end until mom's not looking and you can take another nibble
6. Smile on command when mom says so. Even if you have to fake it.
7. When that doesn't work, try and charm her by imitating dad's half-crooked smile
8. Work the camera as necessary, showing off those newly soft, pillow-y lips.

So, I let my kid play in a muddy puddle in his pajamas out by the dumpster with huge pieces of asphalt. And?

Misery and Woe

Mirthless Jude at the Zoo

This has been a week of misery. Jude's canines (which, I accidentally called "carnivores" once by mistake and now Mike has changed the story to "cannibals," because he thinks it is more funny..so if he tells you the story with "cannibals"...he lies...) are bulging and red and there are little peaks of teeth emerging from inflamed gum mountains. Jude has spent the last week hardly eating, crying pathetically, taking naps on my chest, cuddling for hours at a time, and streaming prodigious amounts of snot from his red, little nose. This also means my week has been filled with manic moments.

Tuesday: Jude awakes terribly sad and wanting to cuddle. We snuggle up in a sunspot in our front room and I hold him and rock and sing him songs. His little fuzzy head tickles my chin and nose. He is delicious.

Wednesday: I think he is doing better so we decide to chance a trip to the zoo. He is not better. He cries and moans and could care less about the massive gorilla eating cardboard just inches away from us (Hello! Gorillas are MASSIVE!) or the leopard pacing hungrily in front of us through an inch of glass. I hold him the entire time and my back wants to give out by the end. He cries all the way home. So much for adventure.

Thursday: Jude takes a three hour nap on my chest. I am in heaven, nay bliss, that is, until my bladder is bursting and I get really hungry (lunch at 4:00 PM? what?), and then my bliss was ready to make a trip to the bathroom and the kitchen.

Thursday night: Jude says a sobbing "n-n-noooooo." to eating everything from rice to blueberries to ice cream to chocolate chips (really? I mean, reeeaalllly?). He won't eat anything but cries and whimpers and careens around the kitchen like a sad drunken man until I want to cry and whimper and careen around the kitchen too.

I've felt like my boy has disappeared into the body of somber, mirthless zombie and I want him back. Now. Today he showed signs of improvement. He ate well and then did a little dance on our coffee table, his little mischievous smile flashing out. Praise.

yesterday's moments

I have two favorite moments from yesterday.

1. Jude found a feather on the floor of my room and brought it over to me. I told him to blow on it and it flew delicately into the air. His smile cracked wide. We spent the next thirty minutes lying head to head on my floor, blowing the feather up and up into the air, watching it float down onto our heads or into our hands.

2. During snack time, Jude and I took a box of crackers into the front room. I sat on the floor in front of the couch and Jude sat on my lap facing me. He pulled cracker after cracker from the box, always supplying one for my mouth and one for each of his hands. Occasionally he would grab the cracker from my mouth and take a bite, and then stick it back in. Half a cracker box later, cracker crumbs cover both of our shirts and we're both signing, "all done."

Shorn

The other night, Mike cut Jude's hair. I was thinking maybe a trim was in order. Apparently, Mike thought that Jude needed to join the Marines. I'm in mourning. And yes, I saved a lock.

Sometimes, when you are teething and four gnarly molars are busting through at once, your mom lets you eat popsicles until you are in a sugar coma.

Don't judge me.