This blog post needs a parental advisory warning

So Will is all flush with Halloween spirit and has been making lots of decorations to hang around the house....pumpkins, ghosts, etc.  He made a large skeleton a few days ago, and John helped him hang it up near the front door.  Apparently neither of us took a good look at the skeleton, because it took us a few days to realize that Will made it...ahem...anatomically correct:

Me, shocked: "Will, does your skeleton have boy parts????"

Will, proudly: "Yes, I made it out of candy corn!!"

He also has knees made of Twizzlers, and elbows of jelly beans, in case you were curious.

So now I'm trying to convince him to make the skeleton some pants, and, like any artist, he's strongly resisting any alterations to his work.  Pretty sure I'm going to win this one.

I'm also pretty sure I know why the pest control man was laughing when he came to the door today.

Will-isms AND some Anna-isms

Will: "First grade is so great! We have a huge magnifying glass that can put a picture of anything--ANYTHING--on the wall!!!" 

We eventually figured out he was talking about an overhead projector. :-)

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After Anna came to get me to help her free a drawstring bag from around her neck, I freaked out a little.

Me:  "You never ever, never, NEVER put these things around your neck!"

Anna, calmly patting my hand:  "Mama, it gon' be okay."

********

Will asked me to turn on some morning cartoons, so I juggled our various remote controls to fulfill his request.

Will:  "Mama, when in school do they teach you how to turn on the TV?"

Me, laughing:  "They don't teach that in school!"

Will, exasperated:  "Well, then, how am I ever going to learn that???"

********

The minute I sit down in the bathroom, the door opens...

Anna:  "I need a hug."

Me: "Anna, I just need a minute of privacy."

Anna, coming in the bathroom anyway:  "That's okay, Mama.  I won't look at your private-cy."

A movie review. Sort of.

Our kids both love all things Dr. Seuss-related.  Anna gravitates toward the board books and simpler stories, while Will enjoys the lengthier books.  In fact, we possess two copies of The Cat in the Hat, which did not keep Will from checking out a third copy from the school library.  Twice.  His enthusiasm reached a fevered pitch this past month, when his school held a Dr. Seuss Field Day for the younger grades.  They spent a few weeks reading several Dr. Seuss books and then had a day of crazy games and fun snacks.  Thanks to all this, we were all looking forward to the new movie, The Lorax, which came out last weekend.

We checked movie times after Will's Tball game last Saturday and found that the theater around the corner from us had a non-3D showing at 3:20.  Non-3D is very important to John; he's taken Will to a few 3D movies, and apparently Will has a tendency to rub his popcorn-oil-laden fingers on his 3D glasses and then complains because he can't see.  So John has to switch glasses with him, and thus has suffered through oil-smeared 3D versions of Toy Story 3 and Cars 2.

But no worries--we showed up at 3:15 and purchased our non-3D tickets.  I was so busy juggling 4 coats and my purse containing sippy cups, plastic bowls, and some contraband Twizzlers, that I failed to inform John he didn't actually have to pay for Anna, and I also didn't notice which theater they told us to go into.  We stopped at the concessions counter for a medium popcorn, soda, and bottled water, and then headed down the hallway to the theaters.  There were two theater doors with "Lorax" signs above them, so we went into the one with the non-3D sign.

Just inside the door, a father and son were standing with their popcorn and informed us that the previous movie was just ending and that they were told the next showing would be 10 minutes late.  I peeked around the corner, saw the Lorax credits rolling, and headed back out with our family to wait for the theater to empty.  Then we went back inside and got settled.  "Getting settled" at this point in parenthood means handing out a jacket to everyone, pouring the water into sippy cups, and divvying up the popcorn.  And then I handed the popcorn bag with the parental allotment of popcorn to Will, because he always wants to save HIS popcorn for the movie, and eat ours during the previews.  He is so my child sometimes.

Miss Anna was just happy to have a cup of popcorn, and spent her time trying to keep her seat down.  It's hard to keep your seat open when you're not quite 30 pounds in weight!

Besides us, there were only about 12 other people in the theater.  John and I reflected on how sad it was that the neighborhood theater could only get 16 people for a matinee showing of a major children's movie on opening weekend.  We sat back, ate popcorn, and checked Twitter, waiting for the movie to start.

The previews finally started--I wasn't paying much attention to them, until John leaned over and said, "These previews are really inappropriate for a children's movie!"  Sure enough, I heard several curse words.  John and I were getting more and more heated by the minute, until the moment when a character said "crap my pants" in one preview.

"Daddy, what does 'crap my pants' mean?" asked Will.

I looked at John, and said "I really think I may have to speak to someone about this," when the previews finally stopped and the "no cell phone" ads started, letting us know the movie was going to start.  At this point, it was almost 4 pm and we'd been in our seats for quite awhile.

Just then, the screen flashed an announcement to put on the 3D glasses.  John looked at me--"Are you KIDDING me?  Have we been sitting all this time in the wrong theater waiting on the 3D version??"

I just wanted to save the afternoon, so I scurried out to the front, begged for some 3D glasses, and ran back inside.  On my way back in, I happened to glance at the sign above the door again--and noticed that , next to the Lorax sign, there was also a sign for Ghostrider.  And I started getting a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

We all got our glasses on just in time for the opening scene....which, as I feared, featured a man riding a motorcycle down a highway.

John in a stage-whisper:  "Isn't this supposed to be an animated movie?"

Will, loudly: "Is that the Lorax?"

Me, frantically:  "We need to leave.  NOW!!"

I didn't know much about Ghostrider but I knew from posters that Nicholas Cage spends at least part of the movie looking like this.  And I really didn't want to deal with the nightmares that would stem from Will seeing a blazing skeleton head.  So John and I started gathering all our stuff and herded the kids across the hallway into the other Lorax theater.

That theater was much more crowded and the movie was well in progress, but, thank you, Jesus, (and I truly mean that in a sincere, non-blasphemous way) I spotted four seats all together next to the aisle.

John, darkly: "I think we should just go home."

Me, falsely cheerful:  "Oh, the kids won't notice."

Will, puzzled: "I think this movie has already started."

Me, in full you-will-have-fun-or-else mode:  "Pipe down, you've read the book, you know the story!"

So we missed the first 30 minutes or so of the movie.  But despite that, we LOVED it!!  Even Anna, who inexplicably watched the entire non-3D movie with her 3D glasses on.  The story was sweet and the songs were great--we've been be-bopping to the soundtrack all week.  Will took the conservation message to heart and, on the way home, asked to buy a seed.  So we stopped by Lowe's and purchased a little garden kit for him:

Let it grow!  Let it grow!
(Track 6!)

Anyway, I give the last half of the movie two enthusiastic thumbs up, and I can't wait until it comes out on Netflix so I can see the beginning. :-)

Sigh

And he wasn't the only one.  At least it's almost tomorrow!

From Will's Perspective

I found this worksheet in Will's end-of-the-week folder today, and it's too good not to share.  The assignment was to draw each parent at work.

I told Will I needed a little help figuring out these photos.

Will: "That's you, taking care of a baby...."

(The baby doesn't look very happy about it; they rarely are.)

"....and that's Daddy....

"....bringing home the bacon!"

Guilty

Bahamas pictures forthcoming, but first a confession--it finally happened, I lost my child in a public place.  It happened at church yesterday.  John and I left the sanctuary and went to the building where the kids have Sunday school.   We stopped by Anna's classroom to get her--she walked out and stood behind me, next to John, while I chatted with our preschool ministry director.  John walked down the hallway to get Will, and when I turned around, Anna was gone.  I assumed she had gone with John, so I walked down the longer hallway, through some swinging doors (that are usually propped open but yesterday were not), and to the doorway of the big room where Will has class.  Will and John were walking toward me, but I didn't see Anna--John said she hadn't come with him.

I ran down a different hallway back to the nursery, but she wasn't there.  I immediately panicked, envisioning her going out the door into the busy parking lot and getting hit by a car.  I ran outside, didn't see her, then ran back in to see John carrying her.  He had gone down the longer hallway (where I had been earlier) and saw her on the other side of the doors, crying.  It was clear she knew she was lost--her face was covered with tears and her eyes were red, and she just hugged me and wouldn't talk for quite awhile.  She finally perked up by the time we got home, but I was still shaky.

I wasn't entirely sure what had happened until later in the afternoon, when Anna was helping me with the laundry.  She looked up at me and said, "Mommy lock door.  Na-na cwying.  At church.  Mommy lock door.  Na-na cwying."

I realized she must have followed me down the hall (I bet she had wandered off to look at an aquarium at the other end of the hall when I didn't see her), but was far enough behind me that the swinging doors shut behind me and she couldn't get them open.  So she didn't get lost--she thought I left her.  Is that sad or what?  Bad mommy. :-(

It seemed like a good idea...

John worked this past weekend, so I decided to take both kids blueberry-picking on Saturday.  I asked John if he wanted me to wait and go on a day he could accompany us, but when he heard the trip would involve a 1.5 hour drive to rural central Florida, he said he would be perfectly content to miss the experience.  And about 30 minutes into the drive, I was wishing I had chosen to miss the experience, too.

We went to Blue Bayou Farms in Yalaha (south of Leesburg), which is the same farm we visited last year.  We had a lot of fun last year because the bushes were dripping with berries--Will and I picked  7 or 8 pounds of berries in about 30-45 minutes.

This year, the harvest came in early.  I called ahead and they said to come on over but that this would probably be the last weekend they would be open for picking.  Unfortunately, it looked like we missed the peak by about a week (judging by all the blueberries on the ground).  Will worked very hard but, due to the heat, was tired after about 45 minutes.  Anna contributed by throwing all kinds of things into my bucket (green blueberries, mulch, leaves, rocks, a stick or two), but she quickly tired of that, attempted to pour everything out of the bucket, and then pitched a major fit when I took the bucket away.

Did I mention it was really hot?  It was only 10:00 in the morning, but it felt like 90 degrees out there.

These pictures don't do justice to Anna's level of anger (do note the little clenched fist!)...but I do feel sorry for her looking at them now.  I don't think she looked that flushed in person, but now I'm wondering if the anger was an early sign of heat stroke:

She is covered in dirt because her tantrum involved rolling around on the ground between the bushes, and she looked so pitiful that another lady tried to wipe her down with some paper towels while I was paying for the blueberries.  Thanks to the paper towels, a few dozen baby wipes, a change of clothes, and a Capri Sun, Anna was back to looking normal in about 10 minutes.

We stopped at Friendly's for lunch and ice cream on the way home.  I would like to say that the drive back went well but it did not.  The kids did a lot of fighting in the back seat that led to me missing a key turn and getting lost, which then led to me doing a whole lot of yelling.  It was not my finest mothering moment.

We eventually made it home and ate most of the three pounds of blueberries that we had collected, and then everyone (Mama included) had a nice 2-hour nap.  Then John got home from work, gave me an "I told you so" speech about taking long drives with small children.  And then we went swimming.

I kept it simple on Sunday--we went to church while John went to work, and then we had a fun air-conditioned afternoon indoors.

Will and Anna's fort:

Will relaxing with a book:

Here's a happy girl:

And later, I swung by Publix and picked up several pints of blueberries on sale.  Easy peasy.

A water slide and a sore toe

That title sums up last Sunday afternoon--and be forewarned there's a slightly graphic photo at the end of this post!

I was on call this past weekend, so I went to the hospital to round after church and John took the kids to Walmart for a battery for the smoke detector--and came home with an inflatable water slide.  After a few hours (!) of inflation (moral of this story: buy a plug-in air pump), the kids were ready for some fun:

Little sister had to do the same thing:

What's particularly impressive is that Will was having all that fun with a toe that looked like this:

He was moving one of the dining room chairs and it landed on his big toe.  He started screaming--John thought he was frustrated but I recognized it as a "severe pain" scream and ran over, and sure enough his little toenail was filling with blood.  I really, really hate any injuries to toenails, fingernails, or teeth (I know, I have to steel myself anytime I see that chief complaint on a chart) so between his screams of pain and that toe I got a queasy feeling I haven't experienced since my 3rd year OB/Gyn rotation in medical school when I watched a forceps delivery that caused a fourth-degree tear, and that poor mom's epidural didn't work and the local anesthetic didn't seem very effective.  The resident asked me if I'd like to help sew it up, and I replied that I'd prefer to go sit in a corner and put my head between my knees.

Anyway, once my stomach settled, I told Will that I could make his toe feel better if he'd let me stick a needle in it to let the blood out.  Will stopped crying and looked at me in total shock.

"A needle????  In my toe??? No, mommy, I think that would be very, very bad!!!"

Opting out of a trephination, he laid in my lap for about 30 minutes until he heard Anna splashing in the pool outside, at which point he mustered the strength to hobble outside.  He did fine for the rest of the day and played just fine at school the next day, but the toe became more red and swollen yesterday.  I think it was probably due to all of his activity, but we recently had a patient get a bone infection from an injury similar to this, so I took him to the office for another opinion.  He was really apprehensive about that, and kept saying "I don't want a needle in my toe!!" which probably freaked out a few kids as we walked through the waiting room.

Anyway, he had an Xray to see if he'd fractured the tip of his toe (he didn't) and is on some antibiotics due to the redness.  I'm praying that the only sequelae from this is the loss of his toenail!

Because we don't learn our lessons the first time...

Will has wanted a pet for awhile--specifically, a dog.  We are not dog people, and I am okay with that.  John, however, occasionally makes remarks that little boys should have puppies, and I make the remark that I'd rather have a third kid than a puppy, and that usually ends the conversation.

On a bike ride about 2 weeks ago, Will happened upon a dead centipede.  He lovingly placed it in a little shell and carefully brought it home, where it has been residing in our garage.  He's taken quite good care of it--built it a little house, fed it mulch, etc.  Unfortunately, another little boy in our neighborhood (who clearly did not understand the allure of a dead centipede) broke the centipede in two.  Will went through several stages of grief in about 5 minutes and got stuck in the angry, wailing stage for about half an hour.  When we finally got him calmed down and back in the house, he cried, "Now I'll NEVER have a pet!"

John looked at me, and said, "We need to get this kid a pet."

So what do you think I agreed to?

Meet Freddie Fish, our new betta fish.  Yes, that is Mr. Fish's old fish bowl--I wonder if Freddie realizes he is living in distressed property?  (Mr. Fish passed away right inside the castle a little over one year ago.)

Will remembers Mr. Fish's passing well ("We flushed him down the potty!"), so every night he prays that God will keep Freddie Fish alive.  I think that might be a tall order.

God is Greater than the Greatest

Will is just now old enough to sing in the children's choir at church, so I started taking him to church with me on Wednesday nights this fall so that he could attend choir practice.  I wasn't sure how he would do when it came time to sing in church--after all, he quite possibly may have inherited my stage fright genes.

Well....

Have you ever noticed how, in each children's choir performance, there is usually one kid standing off to the side, doing his or her own thing?

Today, that kid was my kid:

Will's Preschool Choir Debut from Angela Gianini on Vimeo.

Very little singing by Will, but a lot of belt-inspecting, looking around, and maybe a stealthy nose-pick.

A few notes....

1. He did great during the rehearsal before church, but I became a little worried during the opening announcements when he kept trying to curl up in my lap and asked if we could go home.

2. Once they got lined up on stage, he ran back down.  I assumed he'd chickened out, but he just loudly announced he needed to wipe his nose, wiped it on the hem of my dress, then ran back up on stage.

3. That part where he starts swinging his arms and everybody starts laughing?  There are 2 large projection screens on the sides of the church.  Apparently Will got a glimpse of himself on the big screen (thank goodness he didn't notice earlier or he might have put on more of a performance).

4. We asked Will later why he didn't sing.  He said he didn't sing because he was shaking.  Poor kid!  Maybe all that toe-touching was a calming exercise.

5.  They are supposed to perform again in two weeks.  Heaven help us.  I think we will leave his belt at home next time.

Who's afraid of the big bad vacuum?

My mom likes to tell a story about my fear of vacuums as a young child.  Apparently I was so frightened of  our upright vacuum that Mama could simply place it outside my bedroom door (not turned on) and I would be too scared to come out of my room.  Sounds like a good way to get some peace and quiet for half an hour, right?

Well, I think a genetic component may exist to that specific phobia--because this is what Anna has started to look like when I turn on the vacuum:

So pitiful!

I thought we would just have to live with dirty carpets, because it's not like I can vacuum while she's napping anymore (that used to work).  I tried holding her and vacuuming at the same time, and she still cried and tried to climb me like a tree--so clearly that wasn't a good solution.  Finally, I decided to try placing her on the couch, and...

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Eureka...just try to get me now!"

Now, I'm just wondering if I can put that thing outside her bedroom door and maybe get myself an hour of quiet sewing or computer time?

Will-isms

Verbatim conversations occurring this week in my car...

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(After informing Will that I was dropping him off at school and then taking Anna to the doctor for her check-up and shots:)

Will: "How far is it to the doctor's office?"

Me: "Not far.  I'm taking her to my office.  You know where that is."

Will:  "Is the doctor there?"

Me: "Yes, one of the doctors I work with."  (Realization dawning) "You do know that I'm a doctor, right?"

Will, totally incredulous:  "YOU?  You're not a doctor!  You're a MOMMY!!!!!!"

***************************************
(On the way home yesterday)

Will: "Mommy, why is your steering wheel black?"

Me: "I don't know why, I guess that's just the color the people decided on at the factory."

Will: "It should be red."

Me: "Well, I don't know how to fix it now."

Will: "Let's paint it."

Me: "I don't think so."

Will, sighing: "Aw, come on Mom.  It'd be fun!"  (His intonation gave me a glimpse into the future as to how he'll con some friend or his sister into getting into some serious trouble...)

*****************************************
(Minimizing my migraine...)

Will: "Mama, are you tired?"

Me: "No, but I have a bad headache."

Will:  "Oh.  Did you hit your head on the wall and hurt it and get staples in it, too?"

*****************************************
(The way these conversations usually end....)

Me: "Will, you're funny."

Will: "Yep I am!"

One fierce disciple

Will brought this treasure home from school last week. I can think of about 20 captions for this picture--none of them are remotely close to the caption applied by his teachers:

I don't know how those teachers keep a straight face.

Chief Complaint: Chocolate Overload

I need to share two new chocolate recipes that I tried this past week. I consider myself a chocolate addict--I looove all sorts of chocolate, but especially dark chocolate, the higher the cacao content the better. I've even been known to eat unsweetened baking chocolate in desperate moments.

That being said, I think I finally overdid it with the chocolate when I made this Chocolate Sorbet recipe from Smitten Kitchen last Sunday. This may be a total coincidence, but after dining on the sorbet Sunday night, I woke up with the worst migraine ever on Monday morning and actually ended up visiting the emergency room. I've logged many, many hours in various ED's, but never as a patient--I really thought my first visit would be thanks to some debacle of Will's. Instead, some stabbing pain, uncontrollable vomiting, and lack of abortive meds at home landed me there Monday morning--three shots of various painkillers/nausea meds cured me, though, and I bounced out a few hours later ready for work. (If you're wondering if it is embarrassing to be a doctor and be seen in the ER, well yes, yes it is. And if you're wondering if I told the attending physician about my chocolate indiscretions, well no, no I did not.)

That doesn't sound like a resounding recommendation for the recipe, but it was very good, even though I am afraid to eat any more of it. It was intensely, densely chocolatey--the most chocolatey thing I've consumed apart from some hot chocolate in Italy (so dense I could invert the cup and nothing would pour out). Feel free to try it yourself, just consider having some Imitrex (or at least some ibuprofen) close at hand.

I had a better experience with this Molten Chocolate Cake recipe from Tasty Kitchen. I used to make a similar molten cake recipe back in the days soon after John and I got married--that recipe involved several steps and took about an hour of prep, so I only made it for romantic date night dinners.

While surfing the Pioneer Woman site this week, however, I came across this easy-peasy molten cake recipe and tried it last night. It was prepped, cooked, and in my tummy within half an hour, and it was wonderful. It might even be easy enough to be my go-to dessert (replacing blueberry cobbler), if I could only be trusted to keep baking chocolate in the pantry at all times without eating it...which will probably never happen. :-)

My apologies to the Chick-fil-A lunch crowd

There are mercifully no pictures to accompany this post, and I am only writing this so that the next time I decide to take Will and Anna out in public by myself, I can come back and read this, smack myself in the head a few times, and decide to stay home. Also, to anyone reading this who is squeamish about breastfeeding, just skip the rest of this post--it gets a little graphic.

So I had both kids home with me today and two errands to run--one to the post office and one to the mall. I fed Anna right before leaving the house and stopped by the playground for a few minutes to wear Will down a little (essential before doing any task that requires quiet standing). We proceeded to the post office--Anna slept and Will was perfect during our entire ten-minute wait in line, so perfect that the postal service lady complimented him and gave him a toy. We leave the post office, me with head held high and smile on my face, clearly a fantastic mother.

We get to the mall just after noon. My errand at the mall actually required me to be there at 1 pm, so we have time to kill, time that I have carefully planned to be spent at one of Will's favorite places. Yay for Chick-fil-A, a mom's best friend. The line moves quickly and I order a nuggets kids meal for Will and (still feeling virtuous) a grilled chicken salad and diet lemonade for myself.

This is where things turn ugly.

Anna, my sweet, beautiful, happy baby girl, starts screaming her head off in the stroller. I panic a little, thinking maybe she's on the verge of heatstroke (it was really hot in the car). An angel disguised as a Chick-fil-A staff person asks me if I'd like to sit down and let her bring the food to us. I thank her effusively and, in my only smart move of the day, push the stroller to a table in the very back of the restaurant area (we were at the mall Chick-fil-A, but it had it's own private table area). Anna is still screaming, so I sit Will at the table, then get her out of the stroller. I try cuddling her, bouncing her, and giving her a pacifier, but none of it works. Then she throws up all over me. I think maybe she just had gas and now she'll be fine, but nope, she starts screaming again.

At this point, people are starting to look over. Anna's cries are reverberating off the walls of the seating area. There's only one thing I know to do to make her happy, so I tell Will I'm coming to sit next to him (against the wall), and start to nurse Anna.

I try to be conscious of the fact that lots of people are not so thrilled to see mothers nursing in public, which is why I carry a nursing cover wherever I go. I pull it out, put it on, and start to feed Anna. After a few seconds, she starts to calm down. Whew! Our food arrives during this commotion and Will and I get to eating. I notice that the waitress forgot to bring us napkins and Will's milk, but decide that's unimportant. Will can share my drink, and we'll just be neat and not require any napkins. Hahahahahahaha...

Will digs into his kids meal, pausing only to request to see Anna and then pull the nursing cover so far over that it pretty much fails to do its job. I glance up and catch a disapproving look from two older ladies sitting across the aisle and try to readjust my shirt. Then Will lets out a cry--he had dropped a chicken nugget on the floor. Not any chicken nugget--his last chicken nugget. Wailing and gnashing of teeth ensue. I quiet him down by telling him he can eat the croutons and chicken from my salad (upon which, unfortunately, I had already poured dressing). He's happy again, and eats everything on my salad except for the lettuce and broccoli. He gets dressing on his hands and gets very upset about this, and asks for a napkin. As you remember, we have none. What does an enterprising mother do? Well, I look down and notice that I do have one disposable breast pad in my lap (since Anna is still eating)--I get Will to hold his hands under the table and stealthily wipe them down with that (and no, I did NOT put it back in my shirt).

Hands clean, Will immediately plunges them back into my salad. Only this time, he knocks over the very full large diet lemonade, which falls to the ground. The cup explodes at both ends, lemonade going everywhere. Will looks down, looks back up at me, and sweetly smiles--"I sorry Mama."

Sigh.

Then my cell phone starts ringing loudly--I know it's John, thanks to the ring tone: "Daaaa, da da da da, Go Gators!!." I can't answer it or silence it because it's across the table, but I look over at the disapproving ladies again and (I still can't believe this) notice one of them is actually wearing an FSU shirt. So now I'm not only embarrassing myself, but am bringing down the entire Gator Nation with me.

Big sigh.

Looking down at the ice and lemonade on the floor, I decide that two disposable breast pads are NOT going to be enough to take care of that. I shove what's left of my salad (2 pieces of broccoli) into my mouth and start packing things up. The angel of a waitress comes back over and starts to clean up our table--I'm sure she just wanted us out of her restaurant, but I really, really appreciated her. I back the stroller (Will clamoring "more drink Mommy--I thirsty!" and Anna crying again) quickly out of the restaurant, head down, trying not to make eye contact with anybody--not feeling like such a fantastic mom after all.

So that's our day so far. I think we might try that excursion again in about ten years, but in the meantime, I am thanking God for Chick-fil-A waitresses and online shopping. :-)

Well, at least it's not swine flu...

Will made it back to school for all of 3 days before contracting an illness. He had fever yesterday but no other symptoms (despite my interrogation of him..."Does your head hurt? Does your mouth hurt? Does your chest hurt? Does your tummy hurt?"...you get the idea). So I stuck him on the schedule today to be seen with Anna at her one month checkup. He woke up this morning feeling much better and downed 2 bowls of Cheerios, so I thought we were in the clear. However, "Dr. Loosk" (Dr. Luke, Will's pronuciation), checked him out "just in case"...and lo and behold, he has strep throat. This is only his second course of antibiotics ever, and he is milking this illness for all it's worth. He keeps saying he's "sick in me mouth" and "need more medicine" (he looves amoxicillin so far).

And for those who are wondering, I do not have a working otoscope at home (or a rapid strep kit) and besides, I don't think it's such a good idea to diagnose your own kids. So I do take them to the doctor when they're sick. (I saw one of my patients in the waiting room, and she was shocked that my children actually saw a doctor--"Don't you just do this stuff at home?" Nope!)

Anyway, Will is enjoying his "holdying" time and should be good as new in about 48 hours. I'm praying that Anna doesn't get it, but she is a little congested today and I suctioned a ginormous booger out of her nose (she gave me a HUGE grin in return, like "Thanks, Mom, now I can breathe!"), so I think it might be too late--we'll see how things go.

Also, I'll get her one month old post up later today, complete with pictures. You'll never guess how much she weighs...

Two kids are not a stroll in the park...

Will is back in school today, and I survived my first 2 days home alone with 2 children. It's not easy--I don't know how people deal with more than 2 (especially thinking of Mimi having 3 boys under the age of 4 at one time...can't believe they all survived to adulthood). Anyway, my goal for those 2 days was to get us all through the day alive and unscathed, so photos and blogging took a backseat. Today, however, it's all peace and quiet with just us girls, so I figured I'd better get some pictures out to appease the grandparents and aunts.

First, some pics of Will helping me to bake some cookies on Monday. He did great with adding things to the mixer bowl (although he did end up wearing quite a bit of flour), then painted the cookies before we baked them. He was very proud of the finished product.

Yesterday, I got the first chance to use our new-ish doubles stroller (I bought the doubles attachment to our jogging stroller and attached it yesterday). It's kinda cool...Will sits in front while Anna is hidden underneath; once she can sit steady (around 6 months), we'll switch the new seat to the back and she can sit in it. The arrangement looked a little dangerous online (I had visions of Will crashing onto Anna), but in real life is more stable--the jump seat is framed in metal and very sturdy. We strolled to the park, and Will was so excited to be in the stroller with Anna.

Here they are at the park:

And here's the new stoller arrangement:

That's Anna in the back--she's usually shaded by Will, but I had to drape my sling over the handle to add a little extra shade.

Anna had a bath this morning, and afterwards I took advantage of her naked state and took some pictures with which to embarrass her when she gets older. She is definitely getting bigger--her face is filling out and she's starting to get some little fat rolls on her arms.

And here's a pic for Grandma and Nana:

Finally, I think it might be time to change the name of the blog (not to mention my profile and the header), since the girl/boy ratio in the house has evened out. I'd love some title suggestions...if you come up with any, let me know!!

This is how you know your child is watching too much TV

Will has a new favorite commercial--his previous fave was the FreeCreditReport.com commercial, which would send him into some spastic dance moves every time it aired. Now he is loving the Appliance Direct commercials--here he is imitating the salesman on the commercial (it's not totally spontaneous--I had to rewind it and grab the camera, so that's why he keeps looking at me). The infatuation is so severe that he occasionally throws out his arms and yells "Smokin!" around the house (I'm praying that this is not happening at school).


Will and the Appliance Direct commercial from Angela Gianini on Vimeo.

In case you do not live in the Orlando area and get to see these commercials on a regular basis, here's an example from YouTube (I couldn't find the actual "Smokin!" one that Will likes, but you'll get the idea).



I always wondered what demographic these commercials were appealing to, so now I know. I expect Will to start begging us for a French-door refrigerator soon (whatever that is!).