Strawberries and Bananas

Yesterday, I took Ben over to Katie's house to meet Hannah. We spent the drive there discussing the importance of using a quiet voice and not yelling. Overall, he did pretty well. When we arrived, he checked her out and then said, "Can I hold her?" We settled for him sitting by me on the couch while I held her.

He thought Hannah was nice, but couldn't quite figure out why she wouldn't say, "hi" to him. He even tried getting right in her face and saying, "Hi Baby Hannah, Hi Baby Hannah, Hi Baby Hannah, Hi Baby Hannah, Hi Baby.. (you get the idea)." He was most fascinated by her toys. The baby swing and bouncy seat were so cool. He kept asking, "what it does?"

As we were getting ready to leave, Hannah woke up and cried. Ben announced that she was "very, very hungry." Thank goodness he was there to give Katie some newborn care advice.
B: Oh no! Baby Hannah crying. Her very, very hungry.
K: You're right, I think she is hungry. What does she eat?
B: Strawberries and bananas. They her favorite.

Peas and PORN?

Tonight's dinner conversation (and reason #1, 235, 636, 543 why social services is destined to have a BIG file on us):

B: I need PEAS.

H: Sure, here you go. Let's put them in a bowl so they are easier to eat.

B: Yeah. I need many. Give me lots and lots.

H: There ya' go. That's LOTS of peas.

B: I need porn. Porn and peas. That's my favorite.

Before you send a nasty email, I should probably tell you that, for quite some time, Ben has referred to CORN as PORN. Loudly. In restaurants. Isn't he wonderful?

Motivation to go to the gym

Last night, we attended Zany Zoo night at Ben's preschool. The invitation suggested that children dress is "zoo/safari" attire, so Ben put on his safari vest, plastic safari hat, and wore a pair of binoculars. As we were getting ready to leave, Ben was leading a safari expedition around the living room. He'd look in the wrong end of the binoculars and say, "WHAT IS IT?" Then he'd zero in on someone or something and say, "IT'S A MIMI." "IT'S A DINOSAUR.", etc..

I was picking up Legos for the billionth time so that they wouldn't become doggie snacks while we were gone. Not following good "back health" rules, I was bending at the waist instead of at the knees. I heard Ben say, "WHAT IS IT? and then felt the binoculars smash into my rear end. As he stepped back a step, he yelled, "IT'S A HIPPO."

Hannah Jane

This afternoon, I had the privilege of meeting Miss Hannah Jane Davis. She was born yesterday (February 21st) at 6:56pm. She weighs 6 pounds 11 ounces and is 20 inches long. She is absolutely gorgeous!




She has blue eyes, just a bit of hair, and the longest legs I've ever seen on a baby. I'm going to try to restrain myself from permanently moving in at Katie and Greg's house once they are home. I can hardly wait to start spoiling her!

Cave dweller

In Ben's world, last week was full of things to discuss (at length) with a therapist when he's 20.

Here are a few highlights:

* We drove in the car WITH HARPER! on Wednesday all the way to Man-happenin' Kansas (Manhattan) to take Harper for her knee surgery. (He kept saying, "Harpie's in the car! Harpie's in the car. You SEE HER?")

* Saturday, Ben discovered that incarceration might be okay. We bought Harper a hard plastic kennel (which she stays in for 8 weeks) and Ben loves it. He calls it "Harper's cave."

* When we put Harper in the kennel, Ben cried and shook the kennel. In his most indignant, 2-year-old voice he cried,"No Harper. Get OUT!!! It's NOT your turn. It's my turn. I need to go in the cave."

So, for the last few days, when Ben is in the family room, he demands to be closed in Harper's kennel ("Close the door. I need you to close the door.") while he watches shows, reads books, or draws. It reminds me of the "potted plant" days when I could park him in his bouncy seat or exer-saucer and return a few minutes later knowing exactly where he'd be. Ah, the good old days.

Enjoy the pictures below. We know you'll be character witnesses at our inevitable visit from social services once Ben confesses at school that he plays in a cage all day.

Mommy Brain

A couple of weeks ago, I checked out a book from the library called The Mommy Brain: How Motherhood Makes Us Smarter by Katherine Ellison. I was fascinated by the review on the back cover:

When Israeli scientists gave 100 brand new mothers an IQ test, they scored significantly lower than non-pregnant childless women. To this, Ellison, a
Pulitzer-winning investigative journalist and mother of two, bluntly answers: "Duh... you are now looking at your future for at least the next eighteen years in its yowling red face. It's possible that your performance on standardized neuropsychological tests simply isn't a top priority." Throughout this well-framed argument for the intellectual pluses of motherhood, Ellison expertly demystifies the legend of "the mommy brain"—an assumption that pregnancy and parenting make women a little ditzy. By juxtaposing entertaining anecdotes from her own life and the lives of her friends with fascinating studies in neurobiology and psychology, Ellison substantiates her claim that motherhood is an "advantage in the lifelong task of becoming smart." Her argument's foundation is that learning changes the brain, and she makes a larger argument about the kind of intelligence motherhood fosters. Traits such as perception, efficiency, resiliency, motivation and emotional intelligence, she says, are present whether one's a good mom or "a CEO of a Fortune 500 company." Both, for example, must have the "logistical capacities that take you through the day with the minimum bloodshed and maximum productivity." Ellison's often humorous and always thorough approach reveals plenty of other illustrations of these skills that will amuse and intrigue smart mothers everywhere. Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --

Yeah. This mommy brain will never know. I only read the first 2 pages before it was due back at the library.

Towers, Pirate Ships, and Dive Suits, OH MY!

This week, Ben has become a "lego-maniac" (Remember those commericals in the 80's?... "Zack, Zack, he's a lego maniac."). And, here's the big shocker, he's very particular about which blocks to use and he has a strong vision of what the tower should look like. Here are a few pictures I took when he requested I document the genius in action. He said, "Hey Mommy. Take a picture about me. Me and my blocks."

The beginning of a masterpiece:


He completed this whole tower by himself. However, when I congratulated him on the tall tower, I was told it was a pirate ship. Jeez. Don't you see the plank?

Another creation. I know what you're thinking; but it's a tower... not a pirate ship. Man, you people are not very bright. In fact, it's a "tall, tall tower. For secret agents. See the windows, Mommy?" Uh, nope but you're the visionary.

In addition to tall towers and pirate ships, he's working on a mega blocks dive suit. I know what you're thinking:
1) I have no idea why he knows about dive suits. He built me one the other day and the conversation went like this:
B: Here Mommy, here is your dive suit.
H: My what?
B: DIVE SUIT. Dive suit. For going in the sea.
H: Oh. Thank you. Why do I need a dive suit?
B: It keeps you warm and safe in the ocean.
H: How do you know about dive suits?
B: I just do, Mommy. (Doesn't EVERYBODY?)
H: Who wears a dive suit? (thinking it's gotta be one of our favorite Hispanics-- Dora or Diego)
B: You do Mommy. The dive suit is for you.

2) Yeah, I know. A dive suit made of little plastic blocks is NEVER going to work in the ocean. I won't let him test it in open waters... probably only the bathtub.

Bathroom Reading

For Ben's first birthday, he received the book Everyone Poops by Taro Gomi. Since I find "bathroom humor" hilarious (I think it's from all the hours spent with junior high students), I have enjoyed this book for quite awhile. In addition to the humorous value, we've found that it's a great educational aide in the potty training journey.

Ben will happily read the book and compare and contrast the size of elephant poop with mouse poop. He'll squeal with delight over fish and bird poop (seriously.). By far, the best part of the book? When Ben reads to us about human poop. Here are the two pages from the book, with Ben's version of the story below:

"Grown-ups poop. Kids poop."
"Babies poop in diapers (waaaaahhhh)."
"Some kids poop on a duck."

Yep. Some kids poop on a duck. Now, if only those ducks at the park would hold still long enough.... Ben would be potty trained. Man, is this kid ever going to need LOTS of therapy.

Snowy Day

Here are a few pictures of Ben playing in the snow yesterday. What a responsible parent--- he has on snow pants, a coat, a hat, and even mittens. We won't discuss how I let him push the snow shovel down the middle of the street.