Wonders!

Anyone remember Shrinky Dinks? Yeah, I forgot about them too. Well, until this week. Dude! So much fun. Well, I had way more fun with them then Collin did. This may have been because I forgot our oven light was burned out so we couldn't watch the magic of the "shrinky" part of the dink. So, it was basically just coloring and Collin's immense disappointment that what we made were not, in fact, cookies.

But, we went to the beach and tide pools again this weekend because, that's right folks, we can. I rub that in a lot, don't I? Well, in a year or two when I'm living in the frigid cold again in the winter, go ahead and rub in in. Meanwhile, I will bask in the joy that is California and thank my lucky stars for it every day. Then, I will sob and gripe every day I'm somewhere else. Fair warning. Anyway, we let Eddie roam and our dog that finds his own bark too intimidating to actually mutter, thus fears befriending other dogs for fear of hearing them bark, or some other such ridiculous reason, actually found himself willing to be social instead of cowering behind our knees. This is his girlfriend. I assume she is a girl due to her pink collar. I was so proud. I took more pictures of the dog than my son.

Wondrously, we decided to actually let Collin brave the rocks of the further tide pools this time. Eh, what's the worst that could happen, right? Considering when the waves crash on the shore he runs like hell for fear of getting splashed, I figured he'd do his darnedest to keep his feet out of the water, and he'd hold my hand, let me guide him through the safest path and generally not be dumb. I was wrong. Apparently, the water doesn't seem so menacing when it's just sitting there being all non-splashy. Instead of looking for "creatures" as he calls them, he thought the best part of the tide pools was dipping his feet across the surfaces as deeply as possible and then throwing the biggest rocks he could find as hard as he could into the water to see how much water he could splash up at himself. Alas, we were wet. Don't worry folks, clearly the camera is not in the bag if I'm in the picture, right? Lesson learned about going in the water with camera on my person.

Oh...My...God

Terrible picture, I know but what can I say? Well, other than Blackberry, shock and a boy dancing around in a bra all conspire to make a picture that is bound to be blurry.



I'm thinking that the combination of posts lately (leopard pink umbrella, fairy wings, pink bra dancing) are all prom date embarrassment material. Don't you? Well, unless his prom date is named Chuck.

Oh, and lest you think I had anything to do with staging this, his exact words when I turned around from my innocent folding, were "Mommy! I did it myself! Look! Look!" Oh yes, apparently, I'm supposed to be proud.

Is Coming out of "the box" the Same Thing?

Just asking because shortly after this play experience...
This is what the kid insisted on picking out as "his" exclusive umbrella.

It was a long conversation in Target that went much like this on my end:

"Are you sure you don't want this one?" indicating EVERY other umbrella on the rack.

And much like this on his end:

"No. That one." indicating only the one he selected.

I'm thinking this will go down in my brain as the moment that I knew conclusively. Or not. I'm just logging it, just in case. Can you tell how much he likes having his picture taken in the rain?

Oh, and his reasoning for the selection of the Liberace umbrella? "It's the pinkest." That's his explanation anyway. I thought maybe the cool leopard, the wild animal. No. Pink. Absorb that for a minute. Pink. If my boy wants to be a ballet dancing hair dresser, I'm cool with it; I just find it a little adorable at the moment.

Early Entry for 2010 Mother of the Year

I had an aperitif. If you give it a fancy name, it doesn't sound like you are boozing it up before dinner. Anyway, there I was, boozing it up while I made dinner, and my son, adorable as he is, found the accouterments of said aperitif in the sink and took it upon himself to do a little playing.

Note that to take the picture of my adorable little child welfare agency evidence maker, I didn't bother to move the giant kitchen knife out of harm's way. No, I mean really, what could happen? Probably nothing, since the fear of Jack (yes, we are that strange that in this house, we say Jack instead of God--we are going straight to hell), has been put in that boy not to touch a knife or ANYTHING on a cutting board because it could be chicken guts.

So, this is my child, playing bartender. Wherever did her learn such a game? Mommy makes ONE rum and Coke for herself and suddenly he's got memories to repress for his therapy sessions later. "It was horrible doc, just horrible. There I was, barely three and I was mixing her drinks...sniff, sob. It's because of her drunkenness that we drove the Nissan and not the BMW or the Maserati that my friends' parents had at preschool (true story...parked between them today)." Anyway, I didn't teach him this, so I'm looking at you Daddy! What are you guys doing when I'm out? Why is that rum bottle back there mostly empty anyway?

Do you believe this face? It's pretty innocent, isn't it? Anyone would believe him. That's my fear.

One Cute Thing and then Making Fun of Everyone

In Collin's first week of school, he's gone from the kid who has easily absorbed himself in any task that interests him for eons, to....

Being more interested in said task for longer, and in uniform. Don't be too impressed though, it's an etch-a-sketch and he didn't draw a city or anything.

No really. He is concentrating better and I'm pretty impressed with some quick changes already. I'm in love with this school. I'm not in love with the adjustment period for my little man. He misses his old school and it breaks my heart to try to keep explaining to him why he can't go there anymore. Poor baby.

And onto making fun of everyone. Because it's my blog and I get control over what goes on it. Who could resist this picture. Daddy looks ridiculous, right? For once, Collin was super thrilled to see Daddy come home from work. You'd think he would normally be thrilled to see him, instead he treats him like a leper. It's a phase. Anyway, this day was great and Collin climbed on his lap and feed him grapes a-la-Caligula. Because of the momentous occasion of non-Daddy-hating, we had to document it. Because of the absurdity of this particular shutter-capture, I had to put it up.

Collin has become a pro at the nebulizer. He's become so much of a pro at it, that he's beginning to demand doing it in various locations, like the kitchen table, the bedroom, wherever Mommy is, really. He doesn't even really need entertainment, just to sit there and chat. I just thought he looked really silly sitting there chatting with me with smoke coming out of his mask and making goofball faces at me. Thankfully, with luck, we should only have to do about another week of this. Three times a day is A LOT! He seems fine.

And this, this is the reaction that Collin gives to Daddy when Daddy puts sausage on his plate at dinner. Let me explain: Mommy has slowly "encouraged" a primarily vegetarian diet on her household. Let's just say she suggested that she would prefer less meat in her diet and said hey, you folks do what you would like. Daddy, being the ever-supportive dude that he is, has reluctantly been helping to add more and more veggie-friendly meals to the menu but, in parenthesis writing (extra sausage on the side for Bryon). The picture cracks me up. I just wish I'd gotten a picture of him eating his tofu after I told him it would give him Luke Skywalker's powers. Shoot me; it worked. It did not work for the tomatoes and alfalfa sprouts he stacked neatly next to his plate.

So, It Begins...

The director of Collin's new school warned me that from Day 1, literally, Collin would begin to display a burgeoning sense of independence because that is part of the Montessori philosophy. Our friend, that has two children going through there said the same thing, that I would be shocked at how fast it would happen. Well, I was not to be disappointed. Our little man, who is pretty insistent that pants don't go on unless someone puts them on for him, decided to take this task upon himself from now on.


It's okay by me if they look like this. We didn't have anywhere to go. It's mighty hard to tell but, yes they are on backwards. We had a teeny-weeny discussion about the fly placket and pockets. I'm not sure how deep that discussion sank in.

We'll see. They look comfy though, don't they?


We also had deep discussions yesterday about birds, nests, oceans, fish and why we don't ride certain animals. These are all things I'm certain he did in school yesterday. I'm impressed already. Hooray! He talked all day about school. He never talked about his other school, no matter how much I prodded...until yesterday, when he said, "Mommy, when will Miss Eleanor come to my new school? Will she be there tomorrow? I miss her." Poor baby.


Meanwhile, I'm "adjusting" to being without my baby both in the extra hours in the afternoon and the additional day. It's pretty rough. I rattled around the house yesterday afternoon and ended up waiting in the parking lot for him because I showed up fifteen minutes early, too excited to see him. I'll try not to do that today! I swear. I can't believe how much I miss him. I suppose it will be better when school starts for me too. I know this is good for him but it's rough on his Mommy!


Oh, and he peed standing up for the first time! In over a year of peeing in the potty, we haven't been able to convince him that it's a cool thing to do (to be fair, we haven't tried much because it poses a yick hazard). But, they got him to do it in one try! He refused to even consider it at the other school too! So, way to go, Collin!!

Collin's Second First Day of Preschool

Have you ever had one of those mornings as a parent where you wonder if you are ever going to figure out how to properly do all this?

Things I screwed up before 9 am this morning:

1. I forgot to put his name on the spare clothes for his cubby

2. I forgot to put his spare clothes in a ziploc baggie

3. I didn't get enough spare clothes in time for a complete outfit (damn shipping time)

4. I forgot to actually sign him in on the sign in sheet

5. I barely got him there in time this morning (um, lesson learned, leave earlier)

6. I wouldn't let him wear these despite pleading, begging and a puppy dog face (this may qualify under the good mom list)

7. I was so concerned about the list of stuff he needed for the first day, that I forgot my purse, wallet and military i.d. card.

8. I forgot to copy his immunization record for his school file

9. I forgot to return the library book at the library that I passed BOTH on the way to school and on the way home. It's easy to understand how I did this since the book was sitting right next to me on the passenger seat.

Things I did right before 9 am this morning:

1. I waited to cry until I got to the car; something I was sure I wouldn't do since I already "did" the whole first day of preschool thing months ago. Why did he have to look nervous this time! Why!?

2. I did the "right" thing and didn't coddle him when he looked nervous but only reassured him

3. I only watched him through the two-way glass for a few minutes instead of the six hours he's there. I was very tempted to ask for a chair and a glass of wine to calm my nerves. Would that have been wrong?

4. I already put his fairy wings in the car so he'll have them the second he gets out of school

5. I let him have sausage this morning because it's a special day

6. I remembered his sweatshirt for recess at the last minute, as the car was running. I choose to put this on the "right" list, despite the sweatshirt not being washed and having a mysterious stain on the sleeve. Remembering it counts for more than cleanliness in this case. He probably won't need it anyway, since it's already almost 70.

7. I swear I'm not trying to balance the list so I don't seem like I suck. That counts, right?

Oh, and this.

The fact that I produced this little person, must be proof that even on an off morning, I haven't completely been asleep at the wheel. Want to know why this is blurry? It's because he was so excited to give me a hug, that he rammed the camera person with such gusto, that the shot was "ruined." I can live with that. It makes the picture perfect, if you ask me.

We Got Some Weird Looks

So, yes we went back for them. Collin was a little geeked about the idea that you could actually BUY fairy wings. I mean, who would've thought, in his mind, that such a thing was possible! So, after he ran around like an untrained monkey in Old Navy that day, I took the opportunity to pretend he had a snowball's chance in hell of actually obtaining those wings in the fist place and saying, in the car on the way home, "Gee, if only you'd been a better listener in that store. Maybe Mommy might've gotten those fairy wings for you."

Alas, for the past few days, someone has been telling everyone who will listen that he's sorry he was a "poor listener at Old Navy." Poor kid. I scarred him for life (scar #7,239) over fairy wings. I don't see anything going wrong here. No permanent damage. Nope, he won't become a serial killer that chooses cross-dressers or anything like that. Anyhoo, we (I) thought it might not be a horrible idea to see if he could earn those wings.

We needed to get him more uniform stuff since the shirts I ordered won't be here in time for his first day of school. So, a trip back to the mall was in order. I know, don't be sad Collin. It's a perfect time for you to show me you can behave at Old Navy!

And, after he was a perfect angel through the entire mall, and I merely mentioned fairy wings, he actually spun in circles and fell down with gleeful giggles. He looked like a dog chasing his tail. Meanwhile, Bryon was saying, "do we really have to do this wing thing?" but, like a good daddy, shut his pie-hole when he saw how happy the idea made his son.

He wore them from the check stand through the entire mall, all the way to the car and through the rest of his day. He was a little sad that he had to take them off to go to bed. So, we now own fairy wings. I'm wondering when this (tiny) obsession will die down? Bryon is considering it a small victory that when offered the choice between pink or white fairy wings, our boy chose white.

I think the pants/wings combo say, "sure, I'm wearing wings, sure they have a cute little rosette in the center, sure they are covered in glitter, but I can kick your ass."

Pulling His Weight

Collin must have overheard me joking about him needing to start pulling his weight around here now that his preschool bill is the biggest monthly payment we have, ranking higher than our car payment. So, taking things literally, as most preschoolers are wont to do, he thought that he'd start carrying as many heavy objects as possible, all at once.

This is Collin on our walk with Eddie yesterday. He is carrying half a dozen rocks in one arm and a stick in the other hand. I asked if he wanted help with any of his treasures; you can imagine the response. There is no treasure that is less special than the next, which means no treasure can be carried by any other than his precious hands. What was I thinking?

Where are all these rocks now? Who knows? He threw them all into the planter box in front of our house as soon as he got home and heard the stereo playing. He thought it was the television and because he's so television deprived, he got excited and dashed into the house with such glee and anticipation, that what were formerly such treasures that Mommy couldn't even touch them, are now trash.

Out of Regulation for First Day :)

I went to Old Navy today to see if they had any plain blue sweatshirts for Collin's new uniform. We've got the other stuff he needs on order but I thought he might need a sweatshirt for those oh, so cold days here. Yes, everyone else out there is suffering through the Arctic Blast we are hearing so much about. We (I) wore capri pants and flip flops to the park yesterday. Ha!



Well, this is what Collin picked out. Despite this not being in the handbook as explicitly forbidden, I think it goes without saying, since light-up, flashing shoes and logos are right out. What do you think? No-go?


Yes, I know it's a bad picture but I thought it was better to get the wings off the kid more quickly than to worry about making him stand there and look cute. I mean he was wearing pink fairy wings in public, folks.


Oh, and it's $690 a month for the curious folks out there who have been asking. That's for three full days. 8:30 to 3.

One Born Every Minute

I chose to believe myself over the moon with my child than a sucker. It makes it easier to look myself in the mirror in the morning. All the same, it's also a good idea not to take me with if you want to make a large scale purchase, like a car, because I will fall in love at first sight with most likely, the most expensive one on the lot, and insist on taking it home. This was the case with this new preschool thing before I even got there, and the moment I stepped on the grounds, I was ready to sell my soul to let Collin go there.

After getting the tour, I was, no kidding, in tears on the way home because I was overjoyed at the thought of being able to give my son such a wonderful opportunity. I have never seen such a place. It was beautiful. Every single, last speck of detail was thought out to enhance what he'll be doing. The colored pencils were even in appropriately colored cups. I know, a silly detail; but, it impressed me. The grounds were breathtaking. There was so much thought put into the organization of his day, his education and his play, that I was blown away, just blown away. It still makes me well up with excitement. Forget about my china cabinet. I would sell all my Spode if I had to in order to get my boy there.

Or, I'm being duped and it's all crap. Whatever. I'm a sucker then. Still, I have a feeling that it's not. If it were such hooey, I don't think there'd be waiting lists as long as my arm for these places. Somehow, luck just shined on us. Maybe I'm just a sucker for men in uniforms. I can't wait to see my little boy in his first little uniform! They are on order. His first day is Tuesday. Bryon and I will be starting our Ramen Noodle diet then, as we have to write our first check that day.

Oh, and the trip to the old preschool to pick up his stuff today? Ummm, awkward. Has anyone ever had to pick stuff up from an old boyfriend/girlfriend? I haven't. I imagine this is how it might've felt. Only instead of saying something like, "gee, I'd better get going, got some stuff to do," I said, "Come on, baby we need to buy some Nutrigrain bars," as our exit line.

Collin didn't want to leave. He was skeptical that there could ever, ever, ever be anything as fun at a new school as a sand table filled with nearly one oatmeal tub's worth of dried oatmeal flakes and some spoons for scooping. Oh, my son, just you wait. Just you wait. With the tuition we're paying for this new school, they should be able to afford to FILL that table, and give you cups and buckets too!

A Picture with Words

...because there's no dainty, delicate way to whip out the Blackberry camera sometimes.

So, this past weekened I actually broke down and knocked on the neighbor's door at 9:40 p.m. and delicately asked if they could bring their beasts inside because their ruckus was keeping my angel awake. I phrased it just like that, don't you know. Of course I did not. But, being in my pajamas afterall, because it was nearly 10 pm, I think, had the effect of saying, "duh, it's late, why are your animals STILL on the freaking trampoline!?"

I was greeted with an agreement to pull them in but with the certain but gentle slamming of the door in my face with the assurance that it "wasn't all that late."

Afterward, I felt terrible for going over there in the first place. So, I made Bryon put a thank you note in their door explaining how sick Collin had been lately and that I appreciated her grace in the situation, etc. I really poured it on. So, seeing her in Target two days later, was really something else.

The best part was the pale blue, polyester leisure suit that she was wearing, complete with the knee length vest. It was awesome, truly something to behold. The one button that stretched the vest closed across her tummy was super. I kept trying to come up with reasons to take her picture because it really was such a fantastic outfit that it was like a costume. I couldn't believe it. Even the dangly silver chains and rhinestone earrings that went to her shoulders were part and parcel of the ensemble. Meanwhile, she was apologizing left and right for her children being so loud and how after she'd received my note, she realized how late it had been and that she was so taken with my kindness, etc. All of this made me feel better but not so much better that the inside of my head wasn't ringing out in giggles. Oh, I'm awful.

I see this woman every day in regular clothes: jeans, sweatshirts, etc. True, she is victim to the occasional bedazzled pair of sweatpants, but this was outrageous. It was like she purposely wore this mockery of clothing so that I would have trouble keeping a straight face while she apologized. She was actually lurking at the entrance of Target to attack apologize too in that crazy thing. She looked like a pale blue disco angel.

So now, I think we need to befriend these people and invite them to something where she feels the need to "dress up" so we can see the outfit again. It's just to much for words. Or, if that's her casual, running to Target clothes, hmmm, I wonder what her goin' out clothes are?

In truth, nice lady, just bad, really, really, apallingly bad outfit.

P.S. no one look at me right now. Turn OFF the webcam. I'm wearing my pajamas at 2:19 pm and they don't match. No one ever said that the pedastal from which I speak was very high.

The Face that is Sending Us to the Poorhouse

Is he worth it? I think so. I also think he should start pulling his weight around here after the Daddy and Mommy discussion that went into the wee hours last night that resulted in the decision to send him to this place instead of where he's currently going to preschool. Well, that is if it looks as good in person, and it sounds via referral and via the director who talked to me for over half an hour yesterday...in a cool accent by the way. Aren't all Americans sold by accents? If not, why do commercials selling luxury items use British accents? Listen for it sometime. Once, I noticed it on a Benefiber commercial. Need to crap? Be lured by the British accent. Pay no attention to the fact that we're essentially selling poopie-powder; you neeeeed this product. It's luxurious because it's exotic. Of course, not fly-swatting, malaria-vaccine-needing exotic, just fancy.

Anyway, I thought his preschool now is what was expensive. It's really hard to find a non-religious preschool and there are only a handful in the area. I am starting to question the one he's in for a handful of reasons and thus started the search again. Collin wasn't being helpful because he kept acting smart and making me feel like sending him to an expensive preschool wasn't a waste of money. The rational part of my brain keeps screaming, "it's all the same! it's all the same!" Meanwhile, the Mommy that loves her son more than life part of my brain keeps screaming, "nothing is good enough for your son! NOOOOOTHING!!! Does Yale have a preschool?"

So, after deliberation and Collin doing parlour tricks, like actually showing me he understands street traffic flow during rush hour, we (I) decided, we can suck up the extreme budget crunch that this is going to put on us until Bryon gets not only promoted but actually gets to pin-on (read: gets the pay raise). If that isn't counting eggs before they are hatched, I don't know what is. But, I'm pretty proud and confident of ol' hubby and with luck, this should be slightly less than a year that we'll eat Ramen and Collin can have the roast beef packed in his lunchbox.

Sad new facts about the new preschool though: Mommy has to give up Collin an extra day because they only do minimum of three days (boo-hoo, no really, I'm serious, boo-hoo), Collin has to wear a uniform (I'm not sure how I feel about this), Mommy has to give up her dream of a new china cabinet unless she stops eating (I cried--apparently, this is what it means to sacrifice for your children).

Nearly Killed by Cuteness

Bryon and I are exhausted. With him on leave all week, we've been staying up "late" (read: 11pm) to watch movies together and actually talk. Collin doesn't appreciate this and continues to wake up at his regular time regardless of whether or not we'd like an extra 20 minutes of sleep. He also continues to run us ragged by being sick or, now that he's starting to feel better, run us through the normal paces of having all the energy of say, a jaguar on steroids.

Training for the half marathon in February also means that we are running our long runs on Sundays. Today was a relatively "short" run of seven miles. Because one of us had to be home in case the lady picking up our car seat came by (hooray for Craigslist!), we couldn't run together. Bryon zoomed down the road way faster than he can with me and came back with bleeding feet. I ran on the treadmill and finished with shins that felt like the were cobbled together out of two by fours and silly putty. I think we are getting old.

What should we have done for the rest of the day? Kick back? No. Jack is moving out of the Haunted Mansion today, not to return until next holiday season. We had to go say good-bye. Apparently, we weren't the only ones with this idea, as this is THE busiest I've ever seen that place. Who actually has to look for a parking place at Disneyland? They are supposed to just direct you to the open level, right? Wrong. Mickey turned the place into Survivor for tourists in rental cars.

But, despite our hobbling, we couldn't say no to this guy and let him down. He simply had to see Jack today. Who could tell him no? could you? Okay, maybe when he's making this face. This is his, "close to the line" face; meaning he can do this without getting sent to time out, but when the tongue comes out and he pfffts in my face, that is sassy enough to go to time out. That's my, "I'm too tired to care what you are doing" face and "I hope you don't really figure that out," face.

I mean come on! He's dressed as Peter Pan for cripes' sake! His insistence, by the way. When he picked his clothes out, he wanted to know if I would wear my Tinkerbell dress. I'm not so sure what he's talking about, but I'm interested to know.

Change is in the Air

I've never said my son wasn't weird. In fact, I think he might have the market cornered on two things: adorableness and weirdness. His newest claim on weirdness comes by way of spare change. He hordes it like a hobo. He won't get out of the car without grabbing pennies out of my cup holder. Whatever he takes, he holds onto all day. When I say all day, I do mean all day. Eight hours later, I find our 8 am penny in the clutches of his little fist, Abe Lincoln having left a little bearded impression in his palm.

Additionally, our barbecue is in such need of replacement that I think breathing on our food would cook it faster. (Bear with me...these two facts are related...I swear) There are days that in the course of cooking a chicken breast, the burners will go out no less than half a dozen times. Cosmetically speaking, which we all know is the most important part of anything we own, it needed to be replaced years ago.

So, we are saving our pennies, literally. We turned in all of our change today at the Coinstar machine for Amazon money. Sounds silly but we got $110. Who better to be introduced to the Coinstar machine than Mr. Change himself. He was reluctant to be pulled from his coloring to go to the machine. I told you, he's got no other toys.

But, once he actually saw the machine and it's function, I'm telling you, the glee on this kid was remarkable. I think he may be let down by Disneyland tomorrow.

Is it weird to take a camera into Albertson's because you know that your child will be overcome with joy at a Coinstar machine and you want to capture his first time exchanging pennies for cash that he doesn't get to spend?

At what point, I wonder, as parents, do we stop caring where we take our cameras? And, when do we get that part of our pride back where we stop doing it? Bryon seems pleased with this flaw in mothers' personalities, doesn't he? I mean, I don't think I'll be dragging my camera back to that same Albertson's on his first day of work when he becomes a cart boy, right? Or, will I?I do, of course, mean Collin being a cart boy, not Bryon upon his retirement from the AF.

Oh, and another change; he is finally to big boy cups. He probably could've done it long ago but I refused to let him. Bryon kept buying them and I kept mysteriously pushing them to the back of the cupboard or throwing them away. Sippy cups are so much easier! I guess it had to happen someday, right? I can't let him be a pilot with a sippy cup. Someone's bound to pick on him for that. He's got enough grief coming to him, what with being our son and all. Maybe I'll let him drink out of my Spode next.

In case you were wondering, that's right, we're going to Disneyland tomorrow. Mr. Jack Skellington is only hanging around the Haunted Mansion for one more day before they pack him away for the year, and after the last few days of neb treatments (aka wonder-machine), our man has gone from the poster child for coughing-related vomiting to being able to actually run and play with virtually no coughing. We think this means we'll be able to handle at least a short trip to the ol' hap-hap-happiest place on earth to pay Jackie-boy his last visit for the holiday season. Hooooooooraaaaay!

Good-Bye to 2009 and Welcome to 2010!

As we welcome 2010, I think back on 2009, not in review of what I should "resolve," because heck, I'm perfect. Of course not! I just don't really "resolve" at the New Year. Instead, I do tend to think over the last year and go, "whoa."

First, now that I have a little boy I wax sentimental and want to smush him back into being a baby for a few minutes more. I flicked back through the old entries and as of this month, holy crap, I practically have a man. I base this on the totally unscientific and absurd notion that he can function in society without wetting himself.

As of this month, he's been completely potty trained for a whole year! A year! I can't believe it. I can't even remember the last accident we had. Maybe eight, ten months ago? Maybe longer? What a man. A man, I tell you. And, as much as I thought it was horrible, when I actually looked back on it, the trial of it wasn't all that long and truly wasn't as bad as I remember. I think it's like a kidney stone; no one volunteers for it but once it's over with, you feel way better, it's worth it in the end, and you are a little proud for having gone through it. I can't believe how proud I am of him, even if it makes me a little sad.

And, today as Bryon and I trudged through the storage closet to start the process of actually selling all Collin's baby stuff for real this time, it finally dawned on me that he is never, ever, ever going back.

Really. It wasn't the fact that I haven't seen a diaper for a year, or that he tells me what to pack in his big boy lunch box, or that he points out the difference between carnivores, herbivores and omnivores at the zoo; it was that I stood in the middle of the pile o'crap with an empty BabyBjorn on my chest and sniffed a little. In one year, my lil man went from toddler to preschooler and it's all growing up from here.

Bryon forcibly took the BabyBjorn off of me, by the way. In truth, he picked me up, Bjorn still strapped to my chest and said, "You either take this off, or you go in the box with it. Either way, it's getting put away." Then, he put me in the box. That's Bryon for you. I think Collin gets his "woman" skills from his Daddy.

Bryon this past year meanwhile, came home from work one day and said, "I've been asked to interview for this really demanding job. I don't think I'll take it if they offer it to me." When he told me that it was for the General's executive officer, I told him that if he didn't take it, I'd never speak to him again.

I think this would've made rearing our child really, really awkward and living together kind of weird. Incubating our progeny put the kibosh on my Air Force career so Bryon's carrying the torch for the two of us, something I don't think he realized until the whole not speaking to him threat.So, he's "enjoying" the fruits of being an overachiever these days which include eating microwaved dinners on the bathroom floor in front of Collin's bathtub so he can at least see his son for a few minutes while at the same time not passing out from hunger because he never did get to eat lunch and a bagel in the car at 0530 just doesn't cut it for the whole day.

Don't worry, I didn't do anything to add to Bryon's load this past year, like make him sign up for a half marathon with me for this coming February, or enroll at Cal State Long Beach to start my Master's Degree.

Bryon doesn't have to do much for my master's, except listen to me do the following: cry, complain, cry, talk about things he's not interested in, cry, talk about people he doesn't know, cry, wait up until 10:30 to meet me at the door after class (awwww), cry some more.

Anyway 2009 was a great year. My baby grew up more than I was ready for and it turned out to be more wonderful than I could imagine in the long run. Every day that he grows, it changes me in more ways than I could ever have guessed because it makes me love him in exponential measure in return.

And next year, he'll have grown even more. Darn it though, if I didn't want to jam his way too big body in that BabyBjorn for just a few minutes!

I look forward to my family staying busy, having just as much fun and, more growing and more love in 2010 and hope for the same for your family!

Enjoy some pics from 2009. Isn't he a cutie-pie? I think so! Oh, the haircut! Oh, the pacifier! Oh! Oh! Oh! I think I feel my ovaries stirring. Nope. It was just gas. I think I'd be hard pressed to create another child as perfect as this one.