Happy Thanksgiving

We are so thankful this year. Well, we’re thankful every year. But this year my heart is just very full. Mainly because these two little boys aren’t just two little boys.

Pilgrim & Indian

They’re brothers.



We’re thankful for our families. Our jobs. Our friends. Our home. Our coffee (I’m honest). Our food. We’re also thankful for the laughter in our home, some of which is brought about by this guy.

That said, the boys alternated, one after the other, saying “gobble” the whole way to my in laws’ house today. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I’m thankful that moment is over. Ahem.

We’re also thankful for the fire department, our second family, where FireDad is celebrating today. We’ll see him later.

Happy Thanksgiving!


Shop Chloe + Isabel

Happy 3rd Birthday, LittleBrother!

Dear LittleBrother,

You’re finally three! Hooray! Watching your excited face take in the fact that you are no longer two this morning was precious.

Of course, your birthday is kind of anti-climactic for me too. You’ve been acting like a three year old for weeks, nay, months now. Oh yeah. You’re an overachiever indeed. But it’s okay. Despite the argumentative nature of being three, you’ve managed to hold on to some sweetness.

Official Birthday Picture

You amaze us all the time.

People think you’re the quiet one compared to your brother. In fact, we used to think that as well. Perhaps that’s why you have decided to bring on the noise and bring on the funk. You, my son, are loud. And not really in a bad way, unless I’m trying to have a conference call and seem halfway professional. No, your loud is just that loud of a boy who loves to live. Loudly and fully. I can appreciate that.


This year has brought many changes for you. I am thrilled that you are loving preschool. I was worried, I’ll admit, thinking your shyness (despite your newfound volume) might hinder your experience. Your teachers might say, “What shyness?” Yeah, you’re coming out of your shell at preschool just like BigBrother did. I have loved hearing about your day when you come home; your words make me smile.


Speaking of words, holy vocab, Batman. You take the “boys aren’t verbal” stereotype and jump all over it while reciting whatever book we are reading at the present moment. Not that your brother isn’t verbal (Lord help us, he is), but you take everything he says and add in your own commentary as well. You’ve exceeded parrot status and are just rocking your own set of words.


And all of your “stuff” that you’ve done this year (potty training being my favorite) can’t even compare to just how generally awesome you truly are. I love that you are funny and silly and, yes, even grumpy. Mainly because however you are feeling, you can’t have a conversation without say to me or Daddy, “I love you.”

And you’re a ham. (And, really, kind of the instigator…)

Silly Booey

And we love that about you.

Maybe by the time you’re four you’ll master looking at the camera the way you did when you were a newborn.

Little Booey


Not Looking, Painful

And even if you don’t (please, please do…), we love you, so very much.

Happy Birthday, Booey!


How to Put on Underwear

I kind of need a camera to follow us around at all times to capture our weird conversations. Because someday, these kids are not going to believe that they said things like these. More over, it would help when I was trying to tell FireDad a conversation story that he missed while at the fire department… but I can’t as I’m laughing so hard that I’m crying, doing that gasp, two words, snort, giggle, laugh, snort, two words, gasp thing I do when I tell funny stories.

But FireDad got the point on these two conversations, both brought to you by LittleBrother.

— — — — — — — —

LittleBrother was sitting at the table eating a lollipop from our never ending stash of Halloween candy. (By the way? I threw away all hard candy, gum, chocolate we don’t like, weird generic candy, crappy candy and general yuck. And we’ll still be eating this until Easter.) Anyway, so yes, at the table, eating a lollipop. It was one of those mini- Tootsie Pops. I watch him take a bite and inspect it. He knows he’s not supposed to chew the gum in  Blow Pop. So he just sits and looks at it for a minute and then proclaims:

Hey! Someone put poop in this!

— — — — — — — —


LittleBrother has been mastering the fine art of putting on his underwear and pants by himself. Without whining. It’s heavenly. I was sitting on his floor, trying to find a shirt in his dresser, when I heard the following:

Leg hole. Leg hole. Butt hole.

And that’s how you put on underwear, folks!

— — — — — — — —

Seriously, he’s not going to believe he said such snort-inducing gems when I recount this story in front of his friends on his sixteenth birthday. I can’t possibly carry around the Flip all day and just record everything in case someone says something funny. That’s the only reason I wish we were on a reality show. Reasons stop there. I mean, if I was on a reality show, the world would know that I’m sitting here in my pink fuzzy robe, procrastinating getting ready with a sea of birthday presents at my feet… and a Where’s Waldo book at my side because I spent a large part of my morning making my way through the collection.

We’re kind of boring anyway. Also kind of annoying. LittleBrother is currently setting off an old fashioned alarm clock, repeatedly, saying, “It’s time to clean up!” No one is cleaning, but the bell just keeps on ringing. Makes me want to repeat the last step of how to put on underwear at no one in particular. Alarms make me twitchy!