dude you guys are the worst bloggers ever

We know...WE KNOW!!! Oh well,
We've been "off" here since we got fambly-married down in GA at the end of May. We are the most untimely of persons, and...well, we just can't do things on time...
here's some pix (some of you, if you're there, assuming you WERE there, may not remember how we look)






"Oh dancing!"


"Okay, okay. That's enough. I'm chugging a water and taking a nap."
















MORE TO COME...

Neighborhood Fiesta!

There was dancing in the closed-to-traffic streets last weekend as neighbors and neighbor's babies headed out to Glenfest, our neighborhood goodtime.

Ms. A was there, and was insistent on twirling this man all around. You might notice his hype Carolina Air Jordans, maybe?

R ran back and forth between a stage that was set up in the parking and the "kids corner" that was behind the taco, bakery, and burger food-trucks that lined one closed street.







There were demonstrations etc. from local businesses like the karate dojo next to the bookstore. R ran onto the mat once, and this one guy "swept the leg"...damn Cobra Kai (just kidding).















There was also a pond with the best aminules ever...DUCKS! There was theoretically a "game" with numbers and prizes but that broke down quickly. R is in the foreground, reaching for a balloon.















We got a moonpie and a rice krispy treat. Neither lasted long.

I found out from Liz that Mates of State (a band) have a blog about touring with their childrens. I guess they have us beat.














BUT, how's this for a record cover?...

BABIES in pillow forts

we set up the purple-dinosaur sandbox a few weeks ago, and it has been a hit, esp. as r spends more time in the big big sandbox at the park. he's also learning to throw things, for example...rocks into buckets. or orangeball down the hall.

here he is taking a break from the bullpen.

our garden is coming along. the lettuce is up and the broccoli plants have sprouted. we've hade garden salads a couple of times already.

both r and his neighborhood friend miss A love to water, stand by the leaky spigot and get drenched, and generally get in everyone's business.






Here are the two babies running up and down the hall. A is older, so she took the lead and half dragged a man dressed in a onesie, a button-up shirt, and a single shoe up and down the carpet.

As promised, the kitten's fort has been beseiged, stormed, imperialized, hegemonized, postcolonialized and occupied by sandyheaded little monsters. here you can see them playing the trumpet with the wreckage of the kitten imperium.

whoa.

The upcoming week is a week of many milestones.

Happy fourth decade to the ladies who brighten my day, every day, just by virtue of their existence.

And happy Mother's Day to all the mamas out there!

el fin de semana

Up-front promise: this post will not even mention bowel movements, even those of babies! Except just then. That was the only mention.

The S-B household is just now wrapping up a very successful set of hours known collectively to many of those in North American as el fin de semana, the weekend, and whatever they call weekends in Canada. I worked Thursday and Friday evenings but took the days off due to work-induced fatigue. Ro and I had a great time going to playgroup and seeing our buddies fro the neighborhood. And the weather was amazing.

I can't really remember much before Saturday, but here's the scoop on Saturday: Ye-Ye and Aunie H. came down late Friday. Saturday am we (and by we I mean Ye-Ye) singlehandedly turned the soil and hammered together the boards to make a raised bed for our summer garden! Then we added topsoil. I planted. Aunt H. watered. Merc graded freshman comp papers. And Ro took the longest nap of his young life--almost two hours! Ro's two-year-old buddy A. came over to play today. Her comments on seeing the garden: "Ooooh! Liz, I like you garden! It so pretty!" We planted watermelon, squash, cucumbers, eggplant, peppers, jalapenos, and tomatoes . . . and maybe something I'm missing.

After gardenstravanza 2009, the whole gang headed to San Luis, my favorite Mexican joint in GSO, maybe in the country. We sat on the patio. Auntie H and I split a head-sized margarita, the dudes got coronas, and Ro enjoyed water with guacamole backwash. We were having such a great time we didn't notice the ominous clouds rolling in. All of a sudden, I glanced through the glass window and noticed a severe weather warning flashing across a screen that had just been broadcasting sports footage. The lightning flashed, the clouds opened, and it started pouring rain. I yelled "run!" The waitress darted out, picked up Ro, and made a mad dash for the indoors. Ye-Ye and Han made it inside. I grabbed my head-sized margarita and was opening the door to the restaurant when Merc tackled me--it was like he was stealing a base and I was the base. I fell on top of him, dumping the margarita on my head in the process. Ro was amused. And it was perfect timing--we had just finished our delicious meals, so no harm done.

Pictures to come--I'm being lazy.

TMI, FYI

Exito! Success! You-know-what! That's right, we're the kind of parents who tell you all about our kid's poop.

Yesterday, L brought a tiny potty home for the Ro. Today, he used it for the first time!

Over the last couple of days, he's been pulling his diaper off when it is HW (heavy-wetty) or T-I-P ("there is poop"). We thought he might be telling us something. Not to jinx it, but the message seems clear.

OK, I promise there will be no more TIP in this blog post.

L was out testing the public until 8 tonight, so it was the boyz making pizza. Desgraciadamente, R was way tired at, like, 5pm.

Crayons were no good, stacking blocks was no good, books were temporarily good (R read Ramona the Pest upside-down) but yielded diminishing returns.

As we record times of happiness, so we record times of being really tired. I got the camera, I took a picture or two, I turned the flash on and then, in that luminous moment of digital image capture, Ro perked up and got happier with each photo I took. Get this kid ready for the papparrazzi--he'll love them. Why, you ask, will the pappiz be into the Ro?





I TOO FAST!!!!!!!!

(I REALLYFAST)

ugh.

No parents should ever have to hear a little grunt from the vicinity of the hall, and look over and see a recently-shucked diaper on the floor, and have to utter the words "you clean his bottom, and I'll get the floor" on a Sunday morning before a single sip of coffee has been consumed.