First words. MINE!

She said, and she meant it.

For the last week or two, Vivi was saying mamama and dadada to us, but of course it's difficult to tell when they make the leap from babbling to communicating. Well, we think she's done it. Last night while I was making dinner, a cranky Vivi wailed imploringly at me, "Mama... mama!"

Daddy came home, and she said, "Dada!"

This morning Jesse got her up and she looked at him and said, "Mama!"

He said, "Do you want Dada?"

She said, "Mama!"

Guess who got to wake mama up this morning. That puts her at about the same age that Zach was when he made his first purposeful utterance.

She has also been waving at everyone and anything that says "Hi!" to her for the last week or so. Then she claps for herself. So cute. She also pulls her hair (and mine, though that's not the point) and tries to put things on her head.

The one thing I can't figure out is when she raises one arm and rests her head on her shoulder. It might be that she is trying to ask me to pick her up? Don't know.

Anyway, point is I am thrilled to claim post as first parent asked for by name with this child. Vivian rules.

hilarity, if not perfection

Like everyone else, we have nothing but failed attempts at Christmas photo sessions. But I think I at least captured the nature of their relationship.

OH NO, I dropped a TOY!

You scream...


No, I scream...


We ALL Scream for ICE CREAM!!!


Wait, you said "ice cream?"


Hey -- I want some too!



How much description is really necessary to convey the tragedy of a dropped toy and the resultant catastrophe.

we're BA-ack!!!

Last time we talked, we had just checked out of the Childrens Hospital and were days away from being homeless, which we were, but only briefly. The new house is so nearly done that it's hardly worth mentioning the projects that remain. As of Friday, the dust clouds cleared out, left with the crew and should only return once or twice this month. Yippee! The kids can nap IN the house again! Vivian is doing spectacularly well since her surgery. We don't have the official blessing yet -- they won't give us that until we are 6 months out from surgery, hopefully. But we know what we see, and she seems much happier, more comfortable and just as opinionated. Zach had a birthday. He is THREE! Whoa. We had a great party planned for Sunay, but unfortunately the cold that we thought was on the way out was actually on it's way in. So, we canceled with all our understanding friends and had a party with a stack of clown cupcakes. Bummer. Poor guy. Good thing he won't recall missing a party.

Vivi, the Champion

We have just embarked upon the most action packed, adventure filled week of our puny lives. Since it's my nature to complicate matters, I've decided to pick up blogging again while we are in the midst of a storm. Here is the synapsis: surgery, pack, move, stay with friends while our new home is being finished and finally move into the new house.

Fate thought it would be funny to pack all this into 10 days. hahahahahaha.

Vivi had her surgery yesterday. Of course that couldn't be simple, either. She chowed for the last time at 5 a.m. in preparation for her 12:30 p.m. surgery. Wouldn't have anything to do with the clear liquids offered her. At 12:30, we were told we were bumped because our surgeon was called in to assist on another case. Still no grub for the baby; we were given another 2 hours til her turn. She gave up complaining about it. 2:30 comes and goes... a trauma victim came in and our surgeon was called in to assist on that, too. Another 2 hours til her turn. We are 'reassured' that we will get in today, that our surgeon rarely sleeps more than 4 hours a night he is such a workaholic. That fact was not especially reassuring, but by this point the magnitude of the other children's suffering really made me feel more comfortable with the comparatively simple procedure we were there for.

At 5 p.m., the anesthesiologist carried her into the O.R. Jesse and I headed to the cafe, where I responded as any sane person would, and crammed every carb on the buffet line down my constricted throat. Actually, Jesse said it wasn't really that much, but when your stomach has a bakers dozen worth of knots, it's as good as a gastric bypass home job. Good thing I had Jesse handy to say funny things, like "Wouldn't it be funny if we saw Dr. George sitting out here eating a doughnut?"

hahahahahahaha

At 6 p.m., the surgeon came out to reassure us that our girl was doing well, and we would get to see her soon. As he was explaining what he had done, he pulled out a small black bag and said, "Well, let me just show you what I am talking about..."

I swear, for a second I thought he was going to show us something he had fished out of my daughter's brain.

Fortunately, it was just some photos he took with his endoscope. Whew!

In the end, all went well. Vivi is presently napping in her crib here at the pimped out new Children's Hospital. We spent the day cruising up and down the halls in a red wagon, we dipped our heels in the fountain, and dined with Dad on some Astroturf in the Healing Courtyard. I am posting some photos post surgery, believe it or not. It seems that a surgeon who can charge 19,000+ an hour of surgical time can perform miracles on the inside AND outside of your body.

Maybe tomorrow we will join Jesse in the packing extravaganza. Today, we are just going to cuddle and be glad. Just glad.

Babys gonna be a star!

You know your photographer took a good photo when they use your image in their marketing materials. Without obtaining the consent of their client first.

I discovered my stardom when I recently opened an email and saw my big ol' bare pregnant belly staring back at me.

Lucky for her, I am just vain enough to feel flattered. Not that I let that on -- after contacting her about the missing waiver, we were comp'ed a session for Vivi. I love a sale, and I love free stuff even more. Especially when it rocks.

I can't link to an album, but I can link to a few of my favorite shots. Click around to see Vivi wearing the christening gown made by her great grandmother 63 years ago.

One

Two

Three

Four

and my personal favorite, Five!

CrazyTrain

Ohmygosh, we have hit our "I'm TWO!" stride. More like crashed into it at full speed. Since he has been out of school, he has turned into a comedian, a soloist, an acrobat, and a terror. Let me just share an example or two. (In case you can't tell, he is singing "America the Beautiful" in the first video, and "Blackberry Blossom" in the second.)

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Beautiful Dreamer

I love this age! Vivi is cuddly as can be, not scooting away from me yet, and always thrilled to see us when she wakes from her nap. A sample of Vivi waking up...

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She has also been sampling solids of late. She shows a bit of enthusiasm for this endeavor as well...

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Oh, how we love Bakersfield!

We spent the last week in Bakersfield. Much to my surprise, traveling as the sole adult with our two children was not nearly as taxing as I thought it would be. Moving sidewalks provide hours of entertainment for Zach, and Viv likes nothing better than to be held for 8 hours. Once we arrived, Nana and Papa provided tons of companionship to them. We also had some successfull playdates with some old friends. Aden has provided relevant details.

By the end of the week, Zach was ready to see his daddy. Really ready.

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Summertime... and the livin' is easy.

Hmmm.... where to begin. What have we been up to? For one, Zach has been learning how to use, and pose for, a camera. Get him within an inch of my camera and he is telling himself to "Smile!" At least he follows his own instructions. He also likes to pose for Jesse's blackberry.

I will post the photos that Zach took soon.



He takes a little more interest in Vivian all the time. Baby steps. In the morning, he likes to go peek in at her through the bars of her crib and tell me when she smiles. He is also trying to figure out all the weird things that babies do -- like suck their fingers. Sometimes it's hard to tell who is copying who.



Viv is just sweet as pie these days. Vivi's her name, cuddling is her game. She sat in her Ergo carrier for 4 hours on Friday, taken out only once to eat while I talked to the house inspector and builder. (We will cover that matter soon, too.) And not a peep from our girl the whole time. Really, not a peep. Everyone noticed that she wasn't demanding to be noticed. Sweet as pie. She does, however, still hate tummy time. Here she is mid-protest:



Finally, there has been an explosion of life (and death) on our deck in the last few weeks. Check out the giant green spider sucking cicada guts, and the hornet's nest, both found under the bench on the deck. The cicada feast just disappeared after 24 hours, and the hornets were shot down, so please feel comfortable bringing your tots over again.

Bigger and Better!

When Zach turned 2, he was still piecing together 2 word sentences. No trouble making himself understood, he was just a minimalist. No more. For better or worse, we have a much clearer idea of what's happening in his head these days. When he woke me yesterday, he said "Want to see a beaver?" Then he pointed to a beaver and said, "That's a beaver! What does a Beaver say?" I don't know... "A beaver says, "Brpp brpp!" A teacher in training.



This morning, when I turned to changing Vivian's diaper and away from helping him turn somersaults, he said, "I don't like that baby." He's also been known to tell me "Put Vivian down, Mommy." Or, "Vivian take a nap!" So much for a rivalry-less relationship. Because the whining has recently been cranked up to intolerable levels, namely when I am fussing over Vivian, I taught him to say, "I need some ATTENTION please!" The whining has been marginally reduced. We are headed in the right direction, I think.



With greater vocabulary has come greater independence. So I was more proud than sad the other night when I laid down to cuddle him in bed, and he said, "I don't wike it; I don't WIKE a Mommy take-a nap!" Touche, little man. It's your bed, I'm just a visitor here at your discretion!

Vivian is making up for some of my lost cuddles. She's reached prime cuddly age, wanting to be held all the time. Smiles, grins and coos are the mainstay of my diet these days. It's pretty nice, if I do say so myself!

Views to cherish

He will hate this video. And it will always be one of my favorites.

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Head size is directly correlational to intelligence! I insist.

Anyone wondering how our four month old is coming along? Dr. B checked her and found the following: She's meeting her milestones, she is in the 75% for height and weight, and has a ginormous head. That's not really a surprise. I pulled out the measuring tape to see if she is reflecting her parents genetics, and indeed she is. I always knew my noggin topped the charts, but turns out so does Jesse's. Here's to Big Headed Folks all over the country! You know you are. I won't name names, but certain folks (Julie) have a free membership in our club. You are welcome to borrow hats, helmets and headbands anytime!

A few laughs with my mom, and my own head history was re-lived. At birth, my head was so big my face got crushed on the way out of the birth canal, and for weeks, my best feature was my ears. When I was 8, my friend Serena's crappy dad called me "Big Head". Jerk. (He also introduced me to Elvira and her vampire show, which rendered me completely paralyzed from fear every time I went outside to feed the dog after dark.) A few years later, my friend Jarod called me Gazoo, after the big headed alien on Flintstones. At a wedding last fall, I ran into a high school friend's parents, and all they could remember to call me was "Nugget," because that's what they dubbed me (and my head) 15 years ago.

Then there is the family history... my mom's hats came from the women's department... when she was 5. When my aunt was born, the first thing the Dr. said to my grandfather was NOT "It's a girl!", but "God damn BIG HEADS!" (Wonder what my grandmother was saying... ) My grandfather's hats were specially made for him. A quick glance through photos of generations beyond that reveal a constant: Big heads. I suspect it's a dominant trait.

So here's where I stand on the issue: The teasing sucked. It really did. But in the grand scheme of things, it was tolerable and a big head really isn't that bad. Besides, better to have MORE space for brains than less, I say. Beyond that, teasing only builds your defense mechanisms, rendering me immune to head jokes at this point in my life. Recall Steve Martin in Roxanne? That's me. There's no head joke I haven't heard, and couldn't top. And, like Steve Martin, I ended up with the hot love interest. (Have you seen my husband?! Soooo much hotter than Darryl Hannah.)

But I hereby let it be known that if anyone makes fun of my darling Vivian's head, whether you are 5 or 50, you will receive a tongue lashing that only someone with a brain as big as mine is capable of. No exceptions.

Misc. and missed photo opps

Thank you all for joining us for that brief hiatus from our regularly scheduled programming. We will be heading out to Bubbie and Granddad's farm again soon, and will have more to share on that matter, but for now we'll just talk fluff.

You know it's summer time when all the Weiss family posts show Zach in diapers. (Hopefully by next year, it will be underwear.) There is nothing like playing the guitar in your diaper. Just thank me for asking Jesse to clothe himself before we took the photo.

Viv, on the other hand, sports a mean ruffle on her bum most days. I figured a little tummy time would help her show it off, but that (rather predictably) just made her angry. And angry usually just isn't what we are trying to showcase. So Zach jumped in and gave the frame at least one happy face.

Not that Viv doesn't have a happy face to show, when she wants...

And finally, let's talk about me. When I had Zach, I lost a ton of hair around 3 months post delivery. Lucky for me, it all grew back. But it came in all at the same time, too, so I ended up with a couple of short spiky horns that only caught up with the rest of my hair last year. I hated those horns. Well, the hair loss is back, which leads me to believe that the horns will be back, too. Good thing we are Longhorns in this house!

Check out the bale of hair I rake out every time I shower:

See ya when we see ya, Bubbie.

If you've been reading our blog for a while, then you have undoubtedly seen countless photos of Bubbie and her fabulous farm in Tennessee. Last week, Jesse made the trek out there again, just in time to escort Bubbie home from the hospital one last time. Bubbie passed away Saturday evening. We miss you so much already, Bubbie.

That said, we were given strict instructions to avoid being "maudlin" in any way when she passed. So, I will temporarily brush aside my typical overly sentimental ways and do my best to express how I knew her in the way she would have it: with humor and a touch of sass.

When Jesse and I first started dating, I learned very quickly that he and his mother had a very close relationship. I think she called him to get the scoop on one of our early dates before I had even left his apartment. She apparently had high hopes for him finally meeting the 'right girl', but wanted to make sure that I was it. So, she sent me a "Compatability Questionairre" just about a month after we started dating. It was after reading this, and sending her what I hoped was an equally wicked questionairre, that I realized I liked my future mother-in-law almost as much as my future husband. Here is a sampling:


The following questions pertain to you:

1. Do you believe that birth control is
a. The responsibility of the woman.
b. The responsibility of the man.
c. The responsibility of whoever stocks the machines at the gas station.

3. What tickled you most when you were a girl:
a. Jokes.
b. Comic books.
c. Uncle Henry.

4. The word “Mephisto” brings to mind:
a. A character in an opera by Gounod based on a character in a play by Marlowe.
b. $200 sneakers.
c. The city where Elvis used to live.

5. When you were growing up, the person most likely to be quoted at the dinner table was:
a. Susan Stamberg
b. Rush Limbaugh
c. Werner Erhard
d. Mr. Spock

6. When you are having personal problems and need advice, you go to:
a. A trusted friend.
b. A trained therapist.
c. Miss Cleo.



The following questions pertain to your people:

1. When you were growing up, what kind of footwear did you see on your father?
a. wing tips
b. Red Wings
c. Birkenstocks
d. Hush Puppies


3. At breakfast, your mother was likely to have:
a. Biscuits and Gravy.
b. Homemade granola.
c. Two valiums and a Tic Tac.

4. Which of the following shows would your family be likely to gather around the TV to watch?
a. Sesame Street.
b. A Billy Graham Crusade.
c. Wrasslin’.

8. Which of the following best describes your family’s experience with alcohol.
a. A quiet Christmas Eve with home made egg nog.
b. New Years Eve with a Champagne toast at midnight.
c. Grandpa passed out on the couch with an empty bottle of Four Roses.

9. Does anyone in your family have:
a. Cancer.
b. Heart disease.
c. Female trouble.
d. More than five digits per appendage.

10. When you were a kid, what did the neighborhood children call your father?
a. Coach
b. Scout Master.
c. Mr. Peepers.


I am happy to say that she was satisfied with my responses and gave Jesse and me her blessing. Some of you may remember her from our wedding when she performed "Goin' to the Chapel" for us on kazoo, with her Austin friends (Frenzabison?) accompanying. What you probably did not know was that Jesse forbade it -- but she did it anyway, because it was funny. She also bought an African Gray parrot around that time. Apparently, they are the most verbal of all parrots. She told us she did it so she could teach it things like, "He never calls; he never writes," so she could haunt us from the grave. Fortunately, he never learned those phrases but did learn lots of other naughty ones.

There is so much more I'd love to share, but I fear I will be heading too far down the forbidden path of sentimentality. I did so enjoy her.

So we will do our best to laugh, despite the tears. You made us love you; it's only fair. See ya when we see ya, Bubbie. Godspeed to Kittyland.

delightfull, deLECTible, DELICIOUS DOUGHNUTS!!!

A couple years ago, one of our favorite bloggers, Sangsterrific, sent Zachary a book. It's now his very favorite book. It is: Arnie the Doughnut.

You may be surprised to learn that this book is about doughnuts. But it's more than that; it crosses genres -- instructional (how doughnuts are made), horror (how doughnuts are thoughtlessly eaten daily), and romance (how a doughnut and a man forge a lasting and fulfilling relationship despite the odds.) It's a great book. You should check it out.

So, we headed over to our local Krispy Kreme to check out the assembly line and partake in this exquisite american treat. Just as we stepped up to the counter to order our doughnut (chocolate icing and rainbow sprinkles, of course), he spotted an even more rare and tasty treat: Pink Milk. Sangsterrific, again, must be credited here. HER blog made mention of the BBC show, Charlie and Lola. My mom, being another faithful reader of Sangsterrific, decided Zach should have DVD's of this show. So he does, and he watches them on occasion, and learned that Lola LOVES pink milk. Now Zachary LOVES pink milk and as of this morning, when he actually tasted it, he is borderline obsessive about it.

A frenzied sugar delirium ensued, peaking for nearly 20 minutes. A collision between a toddler and a drivethrough customer was nearly missed when a certain toddler broke rank -- I think he was trying to chase down their doughnut.

Anyway, this post should probably just be titled "Why Sangsterrific Rules", but that might just be too suck-upy, even for me. So I will just say, "Thanks Tracy!", on behalf of one very satisfied toddler.

Making a case for the outdoors.

What do a black leather recliner, a maroon Ligne Roset couch, a brown leather sofa, 2 piles of laundry, a Tumi garmet bag, a brown leather ottoman, a Nordstroms shopping bag filled with my mother-in-law's new shirts and a pile of pillows all have in common?!

Think hard before you answer this. It's not intuitive, unless you are familiar with the members of our household...

They have all been peed on by one of our three cats. As I sat here, moments ago, typing out an ad for a "Free", but stinky, Lignet Roset couch on Craigslist, I was struck by the vast financial burden that these critters have been upon us. Between the professional cleanings, professional cleansers and total losses, we could have probably paid to board them for the last 4 years of their lives and still been ahead. At least they are equal opportunity pissers, though. Both of our premarital assets have been equally targeted by the beasts.

So here is the problem: 2 of the 3 cats are frontally declawed. For that reason, we have put up with their shenanigans for this long now and kept them as indoor cats. My vote is now in favor of letting them learn to fend for themselves and send them out into the great outdoors. But an argument can be made, and has been, that this endangers their little lives because they are claw-dicapped. Others say that it doesn't matter, it's the rear claws they fight with. Another argument in favor of their continued entrapment is that we live on a busy corner and cars are unknown enemies to them. To that, I can only point you to Darwinian theory.

My question to you is, what is the fair thing to do with the beasts? Do they go out? Stay in? What would you do?

Random Farm Visit Pics

Here are some pix from Bubbie's camera taken during our recent visit:

Nearly Neked

We spent the last week on the farm in Tennessee, and somehow managed to forget to take photos of all the farmy stuff. But we did get some cute bedtime photos of Zach and Miss Vivian.

In her better moments...

I may have neglected to mention that Vivian is not all howls and barf.

She sleeps peacefully in her car seat:

She smiles for us:

And she plays with her bro:

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