Batty

Updates? Not really. We're just waiting around to see what our next big step is.

I think my kids are sensing that there may be some big changes soon. Sophie's still . . .

Sophie. Just a little more intense.

Ivy thinks she's grown up now.

She insists on walking everywhere, hates her car seat, and yells for panties every time I put a new diaper on her. We've had to resort to putting a pair of Sophie's panties over her pj's at night to pacify her.

And she isn't afraid of doing things that Sophie does.

(I tried to make this into a really fast slide show to simulate a flip book, but I couldn't figure out how. That would be cool.)

Steve's hanging in there. He's officially through going to classes, and hopefully his 12+ hour days will ease up while he finishes clinic over the next couple of weeks.

So, um. . . they have a little tradition at the school where the seniors run around the school in weird clothes during the last week of class. His class decided to do an 80s workout theme to this song.

Hence, the cut off shirt, "sweatband" (bottom of his shirt), and short shorts (which I saved you from. Although he does have nice, svelte caveman legs.)

Oh, and the mullet, which is actually MY hair. I still have my ponytails from when I chopped my hair in June.

I'm going a little nuts, too. Which is the only explanation I have of this:

I think I need a new routine.

Or a change of scenery.

Or some goals. . . . or somethin'.

Birthday Week

I guess I should post something about our birthdays . . . since I had one, too, and all. I don't usually post things about gifts, but since this year was extra special, I thought I'd mention what Steve and I did for each other.

My gift came a little early. . . in June. Here's a hint:

Wicked was AMAZING. I've never been to a musical of this caliber before, and although we were up in the balcony, it pretty much knocked my socks off. But one of the best parts of the evening (aside being child-free for a few hours) was getting to wear white slacks and heels and strut around San Francisco for a few minutes. It was a far cry from the t-shirts and jeans I've been wearing every day for the last 3 or so years. I miss wearing nice clothes.

Steve also had a life-long first. . . being excited about shoe shopping. He's been wanting a pair of these crazy-looking shoes for a while now and we decided to get him some.

If you've never seen these before, here's the website. The first time I saw these were on the feet of my OB/GYN when I was pregnant with Ivy. You can wear these to run, walk, and do just about anything else in. The idea to simulate going barefoot. Walking around outside on uneven surfaces barefoot stimulates the feet and exercises them, as well as the lower legs, more than stiff, constricting athletic shoes do. They'll help to improve balance and agility, among other things. Once you get use to them, I hear they're really great. (Steve's still in that phase. After his first jog in them yesterday he hobbled down the stairs a few hours later because his calves were sore.)

The weekend before our birthdays, Steve's mom came and took the kids back to Sacramento with her overnight so we could have Saturday to ourselves. (Thanks again!!) It was lovely, to say the least. We got to attend the temple (which is rare these days), go out for sushi (just as rare), and saw Inception (oh yeah. . . movie theaters exist). We picked up the girls on Sunday and then our actual birthdays (I thought) were going to be rather uneventful.

Until I got roses from Steve that morning and some of my friends here threw me a surprise (sorta... I knew the night before :)) lunch/play date!

Thanks girls!!! And thanks for the gifts!! I'm going to have really good hair and a nice stash of recipes for the next month or so :)

Let's see, what else....

Oh, I made us an ice cream birthday cake. Probably the best ice cream cake I've ever had. Seriously. And we went out for Indian on the 18th, which is "our" birthday (the day between our birthdays when we always try to do something together).

Oh yeah, and my dearest friend Sarah made me a "hottie wife" apron. Check it out...

I know, right?

Birthday Card for Steve

A little birthday wish from your girls. Happy 31st, Daddy!
(If you click on the picture it'll get bigger.)

No children were harmed in the making of this e-card, but there was a wardrobe malfunction and failure to re-dress.

As well as moments of distraction.

Ivy-isms

Little Ivy's started talking. Here are a few of my favorite things she says right now . . .

Ivy: AH-yah
Sophie: DOH-dee or OPH (Soph)

Granola: DOO-wah
Sliced almonds: DOO-wah nut (the nuts I put in granola)
Whole almonds: AH-mah

"in there": IN-NAIR
bum: bow (rhymes with how)
What she says when I put her diaper back on her after changing: "BOW. IN-NAIR!"

back-pack: BOCK-BOCK
I thought she was saying chicken sounds until she climbed on my back one day and said, "BOCK-BOCK! Daddy BOCK-BOCK!" Steve's back-pack usually sits by the front door.

Mine: "yooze" (yours. . . she's still figuring out first person)
Whenever she's looking for something of hers, she wanders around the house saying, "yooze. . . yooze . . . yooze," until she finds it. Tonight she said, "yooze buh-buh." (Your [my] baby)

A little guide for the clip:

May (beginning): Ivy, pre-verbal, doing a few signs. A little explanation is needed for why she puts her hand under her chin and pushes her head back. For the longest time she wouldn't ever say "yes" or even nod her head. She would just go, "mm," for yes. One day I was showing her how to nod her head and I put one hand on her head and one hand under her chin to move her head up and down. Then she started pushing her chin up for when she said "yes". Then she got "yes" and "please" (rubbing the palm of her hand over her chest) mixed up, so she did it for both.

June (1:00): Another rendition of "Sunbeam" + Ivy's obsession with her belly button.

July (3:00): Ivy spinning around getting dizzy, Sophie running circles in the yard (we need more space, I think)

August (4:45): After talking about "DOO-wah" (granola) forever, I switch on the camera and ask her what's in her bowl. She says, "cheese." Typical. She finally does talk about granola and makes some funny faces. And you can see my poor green tomatoes on the kitchen table. Notice that the kids are still wearing fleece pajamas in August. I don't think it's gotten above 70 in the last 3 weeks. Kind of creepy, but I'm not complaining. I'd rather have 65 in August than 95 with no AC.

Dear Mr. Mouse

Or Mrs. No offense, but I couldn't tell the difference.

We have obvious communication barriers, you being a mouse and all, but I think we need to have a discussion on boundaries. I appreciated you staying outside (to my knowledge) and keeping to yourself up until last week. I'm not going to apologize for Steve trying to flood you out. That's what we do with mice who dig around in our yard. I didn't realize what a vengeful little creature you were, though.

You probably didn't know this, but I have a hard time keeping plants alive. Even in a climate where you can supposedly grow anything at any time of year, I struggle. One thing that I've found that I can do is grow tomatoes.

Uh huh. I know you've noticed them, too. Don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about.

Imagine my surprise when one of my three beautiful, tomato-laden plants, after daily watering, began to wilt. When another one followed suit, I got suspicious. Of you. I figured you must be chewing on the roots and killed my plant, so I began removing tomatoes off of it in preparation to yank them out of the ground.

Imagine my surprise (once again) when I lifted it effortlessly off the ground and noticed this:

For a moment I suspected the mysterious plant snatcher who stole my rose plant a few weeks ago, but those edges look awful jagged. It was you, wasn't it?

If you were hungry I would have let you have a few tomatoes. Heck, I would have chopped them up, put them in a bowl and tossed them in a little vinaigrette. And then given you a little fork to eat them with.

Look at them. Look how sad they are. That's about how I feel right now.

At least I have one plant left. You better leave it alone if you know what's good for you.

One more thing . . . what the heck am I supposed to do with these?!

For your sake, I hope fried green tomatoes actually taste good.

Drowning in prematurely-plucked tomatoes,
Natalie