Baby Got Back

See that little face? The cute little blondie poking his head out from behind my right shoulder? Yeah - that's the adorable monkey on my back!

Nick and I are close - and in many ways, inseparable. He is the first of my children that I have actually actively worn around. My little buddy goes everywhere with me - and he usually does so happily.

We spent some time at Funland at Rehoboth Beach with Rosie, Angelina and the Wetzelberger girls. The first chunk of time was basically dedicated to his sisters and friends. They picked the rides and activities (including a bathroom run and cheap carnival games). Finally - while we waited for some of the girls, he got to hop out of his Tula and into a boat...

I was a little nervous - he is a bit of an escape artist and that loosely fitted strap would be absolutely no match for him! He was a little anxious until the ride started, but once those boats were moving in that circle of water, he was a happy little clam! 

Of course, once he had a taste of rides, his patience for waiting on everyone else was thin! So we picked a ride that everyone could do - the helicopters. He was in heaven both because of the ride and because he had both Rosie's and Elise's undivided attention the whole time! 

Finally - while we waited for the big kids to finish up their "must ride" list, my Nicky went on the firetrucks. Again...and again... and would have been happy to stay there all night long!

So - after a few hours of fun, I strapped my guy onto my back and went strolling down the boardwalk in search of Thrasher's fries and Fisher's Popcorn. As I accepted the bag with two tubs of popcorn from the dude serving it up at Fisher's, he apologized and said "sorry - it doesn't fit well. It is kind of awkward." 

"Dude - nothing is as awkward as this 35 pound monkey on my back!"

To a degree - it's true. Carrying your child around on your person can be completely exhausting and more than just a little inconvenient. But it also only happens for a painfully brief period of time. I might blink too much, and he will suddenly be grown and not need his mama for everything. I might turn my head, and he will suddenly be too big to be carried. It is just a matter of moments before I pack the stroller away and hand my toddler Tula on to someone who will need it. 

But I'm not at that moment. I'm not at that time. I still get to enjoy my littles while they are little - and for that I will be forever grateful. 

My Little Firework

 My girl. My sweet Angelina.

Angelina is a work of art - a ginormous personality wrapped in sass and cloaked in a smile - armed with a heart full of passion and a head full of righteousness.

Being her parent is sometimes difficult, sometimes frustrating and always rewarding.

July 4th happens to be Angelina's half birthday - and our nation celebrates its independence with fireworks and parties, so my girl has it in her head that these parties are really just for her - to celebrate her half birthday. (Because who wouldn't want fireworks and BBQ on their half birthday?) This year, we had just gotten back from vacation a few days prior and had some major house changes happening, so a party was just not in the cards. From a few minutes after waking, Angelina had declared her half birthday to be "a disaster."

My girl wanted to do ALL of the things that our day just wouldn't allow. She wanted to play card games while her toddler brother was milling about. She wanted to invite people over - who would literally need to sit on our piles of laundry. She wanted to party - when all I could realistically do was survive a summer headache and try to make our mess more manageable.

But, despite feeling lousy, I promised my girl fireworks and fireworks she got!

Her mood was iffy at best until the fireworks started - then her sense of wonder took over and she didn't blink. She begged for a phone to video the display so that she could watch it over and over again.

I want to bottle her energy and enthusiasm. She has a way of seeing the light in every dark tunnel - and every dark heart. She loves completely and fully, and I worry about her tender heart and the fools that will come along and break it.

She is my baby girl and my mini me. Always & forever.

Papou's Pancakes

When I was little, my Mom did 99.8% of the cooking in our household. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, my Mom was in charge of it. In fairness, my Dad was out of the house long before we woke up each morning and was often walking in the door after we had gone to bed. As a result of his schedule (and ours) Dad was usually in charge of grilling on the weekends during the summer - but he was also in charge of pancakes.

My Dad makes the best pancakes. While I'm sure it is part him and part Aunt Jemima, his pancakes are always light and fluffy - and I could eat them every morning, topped with cream cheese and sometimes mini chocolate chips.(Never butter and syrup!)

The secret to the World's Best Pancakes isn't the mix - or the topping. It is the man behind the spatula. You see, my Dad makes our pancakes into shapes. 

For a pretty stoic guy who doesn't often show a silly side, he takes the time to shape that pancake batter into everything from Mickey Mouse ears to hearts to flowers and dinosaurs. It is one of my favorite childhood memories with my Dad - and it is one of my favorite things about him as a grandparent. 

His pancakes are now famous - at least with the 7-11-year-olds that hang out with my kids! In fact - I think two of those friends were a little disappointed yesterday when they didn't get pancakes for breakfast.  

He made up for it this morning, though - pancakes all around - and when Claire requested a cat AND a flower - she got just that!

A "C" for Claire and a Cat

"E" for Elise and two flowers