Super William

Z just turned 9 months old over the weekend, but if you haven't noticed, I've subtly switched to bi-monthly updates. Even numbers only! So sorry, you'll have to wait to hear ALL about the pain she's been inflicting on me with her two new teeth. ;) 

This is a post about a little boy. A little boy who never stops talking until he climbs into bed with an oversized dump truck toy and a water bottle with ice and lays down for a snooze. 

Of note:

// When he argues in favor of something, it's because "We ALWAYS do X." Fancy logic. E.g.,

• Will - I want a cookie.
• Me - No, we don't eat cookies before dinner.
• Will - BUT WE ALWAYS. We ALWAYS eat cookies. ALWAYS.
• Me - No.

// If you ask him whether he wants to do something fun, he will say with great exaggeration, "That is a GREAT idea! I'm so exciiiiited. I can't wait!"

// He thinks that "diarrhea" is a body part. (Don't ask me how this came to be.)

// When he directs you to do something, he will tell you to reply "Yes, ma'am."

                 "Daisy, sit! Say, yes ma'am, Daisy. Sit!" -__-

// If you ask him to do a little task for you, he'll say, "Yes, please." E.g.,

• Me, carrying Zelie and 23094834 other items - "Oh, Will, can you open the door for me real quick?"
• Will - "Yes, please!" And runs to open the door. 

// "I AM SUPER WILLIAM!"

// He says his favorite thing about his daddy is that his daddy's name is William, too. 

// He says his favorite things about Zelie is wrestling with her. (Not allowed.) 

// He doesn't sign anymore, but when he emphatically wants something, he automatically rubs his tummy to sign "please." He doesn't remember any other signs he used to use on a daily basis a year ago.

// His favorite color is blue. 

// And he says his best friend is mommy. (Blogged this one down for all of history because you know that one won't last much longer.)

That's all for now.

Time to go sneak some cookies before dinner. 

Because WE ALWAYS.

Hitchhikers

Happy happy Saturday. Will has his first defense trial on Monday, so it feels as though it's perpetually Wednesday over here. Although the kids did wake up at 5am today, so it felt like we had him longer than usual this morning. -__-

The Wills have been going on little hikes over the weekends recently, and finally Zelie and I got the chance to join. We live at the edge of a valley and there are tons of small mountains around us. On Monday, we hopped in the van, parked at the edge of a neighborhood across our town's main street, and just hiked around for a couple hours. 

Will wore his fanciest socks.

You can see the windmills in the distance. Windmills. Windmills as far as the eye can see out here.

Toward the east is the Air Force base. To the right in the photo below is part of the dry lake bed the installation is on. SO scenic on base. Let me tell ya.

Atop one of the little peaks was a giant cross.

Zelie was not impressed.

She's the ultimate hitchhiker. She napped for about an hour of our two-hour hike. It was her best nap all labor day weekend. I was in a crouch that entire time so her head didn't bob all around. Extra ice cream for me that night.

Nursing sesh atop a mountain. NBD. 

Something tells me Bear Grylls has never done this. When do I get my own show? (We've been watching all the Running Wild with Bear Grylls episodes. Everything is so staged and product market-y, but always so very entertaining.)

Staged kids photos in 3… 2…. 

Aaaand we're done.

Budding Photographer

Trying to get back into blogging means breaking out the "good camera." For me, photography worth sharing just leads to the words flowing and to the blog posting. Because YOU KNOW it's a total faux pas to post more than one Instagram pic per day. (Did you know this? It's a social media rule of etiquette invented by high schoolers, I think.) But having an expensive camera in my hands is sort of like busting out the baby food. It becomes IR-RE-FREAKING-SISTABLE to my two-year-old. 

Just like the Puffs, if the kid begs and begs (+begs+begs+begs), my stoic facade is slowly but surely chipped away, and, finally, I relent. I'm no match for him. It happens just that poetically, but with about 5,000% more whining. So right, I let my two-year-old have at it with the DSLR (in aperture mode, the only setting I shoot in because … lazy).

BUT YOU GUYS, here's the first photo he took:

WHAT UP subject actually in focus. 

93 photos of the carpet later and I thought, let's get this kid outside and see if he can get a photo of me and the hubs. You know. There was that Love Your Spouse Challenge going on recently on Facebook where for seven straight days you posted pictures of yourself and your spouse. I was tagged to participate, but couldn't bring myself to even start because I literally could not find any photos of just Will and I taken after 2014. 

Face-swaps don't count.

But, look! August 2016, at your service.

47 blurry pictures of rocks later, andddd . . .

Dump truck: A still life.

WHAT IS HE TRYING TO EXPRESS?????

It's sweet, really. He takes SUCH delicate care of the camera (for the most part) because he knows what a privilege it is to use it. When the camera is away, he's taken to holding up various toys to his eyes and pretending that it's a camera. "Say cheese!" 

Yesterday, he managed these:

LOLZ Daisy. 

And my favorites:

I couldn't capture the light in these leaves like this if I tried. And I do try! So that's embarrassing. 

ANYWHO. If you want to schedule senior portraits or your next family session with my toddler, you know where you can contact this tiger mom.*

*$500 non-refundable session deposit

;)

The Slow Life

Just a little photo journal of sorts on life as of late. Things have been pretty slow lately. Actually, very slow. We shed all our commitments (i.e., friends) with the move, and being that we live so out of the way now, it's been easy to keep our calendar free of volunteer and social commitments. We are a good 25 minutes from base and church is 25 minutes in the opposite direction. We live in a very small community and haven't met many of our neighbors yet. 

I don't hate it. Not one bit. We've grown to love and depend on our weekday routine of getting out of the house before it gets too hot—either running outside with the duallie or going to the gym where the kids get some socialization—coming home for lunch and long afternoon naps, and spending what's left of our little afternoons playing, reading, and watching movies. 

Our new house has a bay window in the dining area that looks out to a most panoramic view of . . . a privacy fence. Naturally, it was deemed the perfect "dancin' spot" for underwear-clad hip-hop routines. As one does.

If only the neighbors could see. Damn privacy fence.

Zelie watches on in amusement.

Or is that the face one makes when teasing a mother after another failed attempt at sweet potato puree?

I have complied an extensive list of solid foods Zelie will eat:

• Dog food
• Paper
• Chalk

Slowly, but surely, we are making progress with solids. 

Solid foods that is. Human foods. She will sit down and eat a couple ounces of pureed food now without total mess. She loves Puffs, too. I don't think she'll be an early weaner like her bro. I kind of think I'll be nursing her until she hits college at this point, but hopefully that's the irrational side of me . . . 

Z is SO CLOSE to walking. She stands up on her own in the middle of the room and the other day she took her first step before carefully lowering her bottom to the ground. She seems pretty motivated. Little Will was taking his first steps at 9 months and truly took off walking at 10 months, so I'm excited to see whether she'll beat him.

SIBLING RIVALRY Y'ALL. Girls rule, boys . . .

I don't even know what to call that.

But he's a fun, sanguine kid, who can be just as naughty as the sweetness those photographs exude. 

He's lacked blog attention as of late, so aside from his weeknight serenades from the bay window, here is a little more about our little guy: He always skips H through P when he sings the alphabet. He always skips the number 4 when counting to 6 (his current max). He still pronounces Zelie "WEH-EE!" even though he can pronounce Zs. "Say Zzzz-ELLIE…" "Zzzzz WEH-EE!" He can identify all his colors and knows the letters W, M (upside down W, naturally), O, B. And Z for Weh-ee, of course. He loves all things machines, and knows the difference between a fighter jet from a cargo plane, a tug boat from a ferry, a van from a race car, an excavator from a dump truck. 

He's been repeating things we adults say in the most hilarious ways. He calls me "babe" and "dear" - "Thanks for makin' dinner, babe!" He'll ask a question and upon hearing the answer, he'll exclaim "WHAT!" as adults do patronizingly to kids. He's started repeating me saying, "No, no, no, no, no!" in a gentle tone, something I've been using to admonish Zelie when she crawls to our hallway night light or the dog food bowls like a moth to a flame.

Ask him what he wants to be when he grows up and he'll say "a happy priest!" And yet he can NOT for the life of him keep his hands folded during grace or not flail his body around during nightly prayers. Skip a prayer though (sometimes Will forgets we added the St. Michael prayer, apparently) and you will quickly and forcefully be admonished.

Getting so big. And yet . . .

Every time I get out the baby food to sit down and try and force feed his sister, he immediately comes up begging, asking for some. "I'm a baby, too! Can I have a bite?"

No.