Category: Life

ICYMI: dentist LIKE A BOSS edition

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Sorry for the absenteeism!  To take full advantage of our family visitors, we’ve been trying to do ALL the things, eat ALL the food, and stay up ALL (well, half) the night.  It’s been fun, but we are run down.  I see clean eating, early bedtimes, and no vino coming up this week.

Proof of guests!

Proof of guests!

On the blog:

Check out these sweet gardens.  All excellent day trip options from Rome.  Monster posts like these are also one of the reasons I’ve been posting less.  This post took three day trips, writing 1100+ words, editing 30+ pictures, looking up links, and doing a little more research.  I’m hoping this kind of evergreen content can be useful to some down the road, but I know this isn’t super helpful to the majority of my readers in the U.S.  Sigh.

I squeezed in one more letter to Mac before his birthday.  Cake pictures to come soon!  (He went for it.  BIG TIME.)

5.8_ICYMI cake

Not that you will look beyond the adorbs baby, but you can see my ombre hair experimentation here.

And how to host like a rock star.  I attempt humor in this one.  Consider yourself warned.

On the internets:

A friend of my friend wrote a book!  C is for Critter is a huge hit with my boys.  Letters such as “E” for echidna and “N” for narwhal make this a nice change for the parents as well.  (I challenge you to google quokka and not immediately go awwwww.)

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The Cult of Busy.  These articles are my clickbait.

How Some Men Fake an 80-Hour Workweek, and Why It Matters.  The faking it could help on perception, but this strategy ultimately won’t work if you have to bill your hours.  They always know.  I do completely agree on the better to ask for forgiveness than permission approach.  My biglaw strategy was to get my work done and make myself be as accessible as possible without actually being in my office all the time.

You remember when I said I was failing at all the current events?  A sweet friend (thanks AJ!) tipped me off to the Skimm.  This weekday newsletter curates world news into a humorous, easy-to-digest format.  I promise, this one is not just more inbox clutter.  Now when friends have said, “did you hear about . . . ?”  I’m all yeah, YEAH I did.

Have I mentioned that it is starting to get really hot here?  I don’t usually adulterate my sparkling wine, but I may have to work my way through this list of cocktails this summer.

Happenings & Coming up:

Speaking of hot, I’m very happy that Mac can wear his new-to-him summer wardrobe, which aligns surprisingly well with Henry sizing.  Chunky baby thighs on display make me happy.

I made a version of this.   Even without adding cheese, it turned out nicely.  Eggplant stuffing, who knew?

I also made pulled out the slow cooker to make this.  Excellent flavor, but this was more work than I like from my crockpot recipes.  You want me to cut the meat, sear the meat, cook on high for an hour, and then switch to low?  This one is not destined to be in regular rotation.

I’m very excited about summer produce.  Melon season has arrived, and these are some of the best cantaloupes I’ve had in my life.  Also, apparently fava beans are a big thing now.  I picked some up today; will have to figure out what to do with them.

Mac is pro peach

Mac is pro peach

Henry dentisted this week for the first time.  He killed it!  I was so impressed.  They did an actual cleaning, with an ultrasonic water pick thing and everything.  I sat there with my eyes welling up because how did my little boy get this big??  (Dentist here is just like back home BTW.)

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For this weekend, I actually have no idea what we are up to.  We’ll try to squeeze in one more adventure with James’s parents.  We are also planning to attend a 70s-themed block party.  Pics if I’m brave!

What are you up to?  Any birthdays?  Dentist?  Questionable hair dyes?  Hope you have a good one!

Happy Mother’s Day!

How to Host Like a Rock Star*

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*Hmm, I guess rock stars probably don’t host on their own that much.  More appropriately titled “How to host like a highly paid rock star’s assistant who is used to getting things done and putting up with unreasonable demands.”  NOT to imply in any way that any of my guests have ever made unreasonable demands.  This post is really more appropriately titled “How to atone for making our parents sleep on an air mattress when visiting for way too long.”

This spring we have all the guests.  I’m psyched.  But it can be hard to have people in your space for extended periods of time.  It is also hard for guests to be up in someone else’s space for extended periods of time.  Here is what I’m doing to try to maximize enjoyment of all of our delightful guests this spring.

4.29_venn diagram of guests

But first, let me refer to this helpful Venn diagram of guesting that I just whipped up.  (Thanks picmonkey!)  I think there are two types of guest categories, guest “camps” if you will.  Some guests want to see you, or more truthfully, your adorable children.  This camp is more family and close friends.  At the other end of the spectrum, you have guests who are generally using you as a crash pad to see your awesome city.  This camp is more casual friends, acquaintances, and people who actually took you up on your enthusiastic “you should TOTALLY come visit” offer.  Most people fall somewhere in the middle.  They want to see you, but would also like to experience the wonders of your city.  I can’t blame them at all.  I mean, my kids are cute, but I live in ROME.  You could live here for 500 years and never run out of things to see.

All of this to mean that my approach changes slightly depending on what sort of guest you are.  Here to see us?  I’ll clear our schedules (hey, don’t laugh) and make plans for some fun togetherness.  Here to see the city?  I’ll ramp up the “freedom” items I mention below and let you do your thang.

Without further adieu, these are the “gifts” I like to bestow on my guests.

The Gift of Comfort.  I want our guests to be comfortable.  We aren’t the Westin, and I do not have a Heavenly Bed, but I want people to feel at ease.  (Again, I’m really really sorry about our overly long usage of the air mattress.)

Before we left, we engaged in some delayed upgrades.  After not buying many towels since, uh, our wedding, we bought a new matching set.  (These actually.)  We have some fancier bath sheets from Frontgate, but those don’t come out as much, even for our personal use, because I can only fit like one in the washing machine at a time.  We have been obsessed with our Comphy sheets for years, and we finally got some for our guests to enjoy as well.  (If you need new sheets, you will NOT be sorry with these.)

I try to do little touches as well.  Things that you don’t really notice their presence, but you might note their absence.  The guest bedroom has its own trashcan.  There is a box of tissues.  Plenty of TP.  There are Q-tips in the bathroom.  I also have some spare toiletries in the bathroom.  I’m sure these seem like no-brainers, but I haven’t always been great on them.  (True story: in our early years of marriage I told James we didn’t need to buy tissues because we could just use toilet paper.  #minimalismgonewrong  Then I finally used tissues again and was all “This is like sneezing onto angel wings!!”  We buy tissues now.)

The Gift of Space.  Our apartment has three bedrooms.  When guests are here, someone shares so that guests have a dedicated room.  Thankfully, our guest room is a nice size so guests can have their own space.  We also have two bathrooms.  During normal life, we use them indiscriminately (although we only shower in one), but for guests, we dedicate one bathroom for their exclusive use.

In the guestroom, we’ve also made space for guests.  There are two dressers that are 90% empty.  There are hangers with plenty of empty space in the closet.  The room is not stuffed with furniture.  Guests have room to spread out and actually unpack.  Because who likes living out of a suitcase for a week?

The Gift of Freedom.  Even though I love to see people, I want them to be able to come and go as they please.  This means we have spare keys for guests.  We also try to make things like coffee and breakfast easy.  I have the coffeemaker and fixings in plain view.  I stock up the fruit basket and buy extra cereal and yogurt.

I don't always buy breakfast cereal, but when I do it has off-brand Nutella in it

I don’t always buy breakfast cereal, but when I do it has off-brand Nutella in it

I’d like to get even better about having maps to offer, lists of favorite restaurants, spare bus tickets, etc.  Right now I’d probably just be like, uh, check out the blog for recommendations.  You didn’t turn on data for overseas?  I got nothing.  For at-home interneting, I did put the wireless password in a cheapie picture frame.  It is much easier to hand someone the frame instead of writing it down.  AGAIN.

But, like so frequently happens with my Christmas shopping, I can’t get presents for others without getting myself a little something too.  These are the “gifts” I’ll be giving myself.

The Gift of Time.  I am finally mostly realizing that everything takes longer than I think it does.  This is absolutely true for guest prep.  I’m trying to give myself time to wash the towels and sheets, empty the trashcans, and actually do some cleaning.  Your bed still may not be made up by the time you get here, but I probably finished a few other things instead of leaving absolutely everything to the last minute.

The Gift of Setting Expectations.  I don’t think anyone shows up expecting me to cook all the meals and have daily itineraries planned.  But, particularly with guests who are spending more time with you, they may assume that there is some kind of master plan.  Particularly if I have lulled them into a sense of security of always having a master plan.  I’m working on clearly communicating what is what, sooner rather than later.  Picture me practicing saying: “hey, peeps, I don’t have a lunch plan, you’re on your own.”

The Gift of Asking.  I’m not talking about putting guests to work.  They are guests, after all.  But, people do usually want to help.  Better for me to ask rather than expecting someone to read my mind.  (Something you’d think I’d finally know after ten years of marriage.)  “Hey, sis, can you put together the sandwiches for our picnic?”  “Can you guys grab some plates for the food?”  “Can you detail my Maserati?”  Haha, clearly one of those is a joke.  I don’t have a sister.  (Haha, I have two sisters!  Wow, I’m punchy this evening.  This is why I should really stick to naptime blogging.  Can’t hack it right now though because I’m too busy having fun with all my guests.)

The Gift of Remembering to Wear My Bathrobe.  I would not call us a naked household.  But, like many good TV shows, there is incidental nudity.  Crap, my clean shirt is in the laundry room.  Argh, it is 4:00 am and I need to pee but I don’t feel like putting my pajama pants back on which I took off because it is crazy hot in here for May.  Definite PG-13 situations.

Enter the bathrobe!!  Just slip your arms in and you have a super fast problem fixer.  Now I can go forth and deal with that screaming child without fear of awkward moments with my guests.  I’m not really a robe person and my robe is a little too satiny to be very functional (I’m eying this as a pinch hitter), but it has been great to have on the back of my bedroom door.

Now if only the robe could remind me to shut the bathroom door . . .

Wow, it really is like Pinterest up in here, totally not gross at all.  Any tips to further up my guest game?  Sadly, eliminate all early morning screaming is not an option. #iwish

You should probably just start walking already

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Dear Mac,

You are 11 months old.  WHOA.  That’s all I have to say about that.  Moving on.

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Moving is actually the name of the game for you these days.  You want to be on your feet!  You want to be walking!  You have places to go and people to see and things to put in your mouth!  You still can’t do any of this unassisted, but it doesn’t stop you.  You just reach out your hands and expect your entourage to enable you.  (They frequently do.)

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You have zero interest in crawling.  You will flop all the way forward, rotate 360 degrees, or “walk” a few steps and plop before you will even think about making a crawling motion.  Instead, you have cultivated some pretty aggressive pointing.  That.  That, woman.  Bring me THAT.  I try not to cave, but . . .

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You have also become a lot more demanding.  What happened to my easygoing baby??  Now, you generally cry if I try to leave the room.  Whether this is because you miss me or because I can’t hold your hands to help you walk when I’m gone, I am unsure.  But we are talking piercing shrieks that turn your face red.  Screams the likes of which you have NEVER before uttered.  This turnabout is a little shocking.

I get it.  You’re frustrated.  I’m frustrated too.  I know you can’t move how you want to, and it is driving you bonkers.  I feel bad that I’m frustrated.  You were low key for months; who am I to complain now?  You’ve just thrown a curve ball.  I’m still trying to catch up.  I never thought I’d encourage having a mobile baby, but you should probably just start walking.  Or crawling.  Or SOMETHING already.  I think we’ll all be happier.

I'll keep you in the carrier until I fall over though

I’ll keep you in the carrier until I fall over though

I doubt walking would help on bathtime though.  Here, you have just flipped a switch and decided you hate it.  You scream throughout your entire bath.  Whether sitting up or sitting in your chair, sitting with your brother or alone, being offered toys or not.  Everything is awful.  I’m hoping we can come to some kind of understanding on this.  Bathing is not optional.  I promise, we’re not even doing it every day!  (The usual routine is Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday.)

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Big doings though on the sleep front.  Something has clicked this month, and you are generally sleeping through the night.  w00t!  (Furiously knocks on wood.)  Sometimes you have a nighttime, uh, movement that awakens you, but I don’t think there is anything we can do about that.  Sometimes you wake up early and sing to yourself.  It is pretty adorable.

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This is not new, but I’m not sure I’ve covered your usual sleep positioning here.  We call your sleep “move,” kissing the bicep.  You curl one arm up to your head and turn your head towards it.  But not until you’ve done the pacifier shuffle.  You sleep with four pacifiers, and I have no idea why, but the first thing you do after being laid down is to spit your current pacifier, grope for new ones and replace.  Weirdo.

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I’ll be curious to see your new stats at your upcoming doctor’s appointment.  You’ve slowed down a little on your food adventuresomeness, but you are still huge.  I tend not to fully credit your hugeness because I see you next to a two year old every day, but you’re a chunk.  Your favorite food is probably banana.  It makes your eyes light up in a way that is endearing and also a little disturbing.  (It’s just a banana, kid.)  You’ve also gotten on the noodle bandwagon, and you can slurp with the best of them.  You have this “charming” habit of working your food over in your mouth and then just letting it fall.  I’ve seen you “eat” an entire piece of pizza this way.  But, overall, not too shabby for someone with four teeth.

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You may have noticed a distinct Alfalfa look on your recent pictures.  Don’t worry, you don’t have a cowlick, and we aren’t gunking your hair with product.  This phenomenon happens because of your hooded bath towel, and I must confess that I do my best to encourage it.  It just looks so right.  Like you have a crest.  I love it.

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You and Henry are still the Odd Couple.  You guys will be face-meltingly sweet to each other and then one of you is trying to pummel the other with tiny fists.  You are able to play more and more together, which I love.  If I’d like to “steer” you on your walkabouts, I only need to ask your brother to go ahead.  Sometimes your route veers just to copy something your brother did.

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And now you are almost the big 0-1.  What a year, baby.  What a year.

Love, Mom

P.S.  More Mac at 4 months, 5 months, 6 months, 8 months, 9 months, and 10 months.

ICYMI: Fresh Fish Edition

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I had a delightful time with the fish guys this week. We talked fresh catches and how to prepare them. Here is my attempt at alici con patate al forno. If I had just sliced the potatoes a little thinner, I think it would have been money.

I had a delightful time with the fish guys this week. We talked fresh catches and how to prepare them. Here is my attempt at alici con patate al forno. If I had just sliced the potatoes a little thinner, I think it would have been money.

On the blog:

Would you eat an orange off the sidewalk?  I haven’t yet, but I can’t get used to perfectly good wasted fruit . . .

Spring!  Pollen!  Easter!

I get a little emotional talking about too much of a good thing.  FeeeEEElings!

A sweet commenter stated this week, “[y]ou make me laugh so much my husband wonders what cat antics I’m watching.”  Being considered anywhere near the realm of cat videos makes me a little misty-eyed.

Since I don’t say this enough to all of you, THANK YOU!  Thanks for reading.  Thanks for chatting.  Thanks for checking out this weird little corner of the internets.

On the internets:

The True Cost of Leaning In.  Agree.  High quality child care is not cheap, not to mention frequently hard to find.

I’m not going to recognize anything when we go back to DC.

But would you switch to avoid sitting next to a solo two year old?  I’m a little nervous; we have a flight coming up where we couldn’t select seats.

Happenings & Coming up:

My sister and her fam left this week.  We have a week off before James’s parents arrive.  Yay family!

I had a bit of a meh morning.  First, it was that thing where the cappuccino counter is empty and then 10 people run up before I can place my order, then I couldn’t go into the zoo because of an errant ball under my stroller, and THEN Mac pooped his pants and I neglected to bring a spare outfit.  #WINNING  I know, all small stuff.  Thanks for listening.  I feel better.

I also saw a tram come to a complete stop in the middle of an intersection because a car was parked on its tracks.  It just sat there honking its horn, first politely, and then more insistently.  After about 90 seconds, a lady came running out of the cafe to move the car.  Italy, man.

I think we’re planning a day trip on Saturday (maybe Orte?) and then some relaxation and guest prep.  Do you have big plans?  Hope it is a good one!

Too much gelato

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Once upon a time when I was a kid–probably between ages six and eight–I remember having a full-on freak out at bed time.  I was sitting there, gasping for air, keening like a wounded animal.  All because I was suddenly gripped with a paralyzing and suffocating fear about dying.

I couldn’t shake it.  My dad was called in to cope.  Either because my mom tried and wasn’t getting through or she decided this was more my dad’s wheelhouse or because she had lots of other little kids to put to bed; I don’t remember.  I do remember sitting with my dad by the fireplace, listening to him talk.

I don’t remember what he said.  I really wish I did.  All I know is that I eventually calmed down enough to go to sleep that night and many other nights in the future.

I’ve had many years to wonder about and think what I would tell my own children, when they wake up gasping in the night some day.  When they realize that everyone on this Earth and everyone they love and even their own little bodies will not be here forever.

I hope I don’t completely muddle it.  I’ll try to talk about God and heaven and things, but I certainly don’t have it all figured out.  In many ways, I’m not so far from that young girl who was scared to close her eyes at night.

What does make sense to me is talking about having too much ice cream, or gelato, if we are still in an Italian frame of mind.  I’ll try to explain that having all the gelato you want, all the time, every day sounds like it would be wonderful.  For awhile, it probably would be wonderful.  But then, eventually, you’d start to crave something else.  Maybe brownies.  Or potato chips.  Possibly you may even start to want some apples or broccoli.  I know it sounds hard to believe, but you really would get sick of gelato.  That’s why gelato is a special treat food.  That’s why we savor it.  Because we know it won’t go on forever or always be there.

Meaning that your life is like gelato.  If it went on forever and always, it wouldn’t be special.  You wouldn’t feel a push to do things or try things because there would always be more time.

But it is finite.  It is special.  You only have so much of it.  You have to act now.  You have to try all the things and meet the people and sing the songs or do whatever you want to do.  It is special because it is scarce.  And precious.

I’m not sure that this is the best analogy.  Or that it even makes sense, particularly to a six year old.  I’ll have to work on it.

But this does somewhat describe my thoughts on my time at home.  When we first got here, I reveled in all of our free time.  The days stretched out and we could do anything.  Or nothing.  Whatever we wanted.  After feeling hyper-scheduled, this abundance of time was just what I needed.

Until it wasn’t.  Too much gelato.  The freedom started to feel stifling.  More clock watching instead of enjoyment.

This is one of the reasons I’m enjoying Henry’s part-time adventures at school.  It isn’t a true break for me because I’m still hanging out with wants-to-walk-everywhere-but-can’t Mac, but it provides some structure to our days.

The little bit of structure helps make the rest of our unscheduled time that much sweeter.  I may continue to tinker with the gelato balance in our days, but, for now, it definitely helps.

ICYMI: Allergy Edition

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The only thing that comes close to the awesomeness of a three-day weekend is a short week!  (With apologies to the many of you that did not have a three-day weekend.)  I’ve been hitting the Claritin this short week.  I don’t usually have bad seasonal allergies, but there is something in the air here that is potent.  Ah, spring.

On the blog:

Still no Puglia pics here, but I’ve got some up on Facebook.

Henry.  Still up to his old tricks.

Want to feel better about the junk in your purse?  Go ahead, check out the disaster that is my bag.

On the internets:

Another person who wears the same thing every day.  I must admit, I’ve been mixing it up a little myself.  I’ll update on this soon.

Loved this backstory on Rob Riggle.

I saw the surprise coming, but was still pretty blown away.  Ah, architecture.

Do you guys recommend North Face?  My trench choices previously were based more on fashion than function.  This one looks like a tasty compromise.

Coming up:

We are having a rebuilding weekend here after our epic adventure.  Besides generally getting caught up, we need to prep for guests next week!  I’m pumped we actually have family coming for the next three months.  (Not three months straight.  That would be crazy.  One visit/month.)  W00t!

That’s not my bag, baby!

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And we’re baaaack.  From Puglia that is.  It was a great trip.  Instead of telling you all about it (a few sneak pics on Instagram), I’d like to interrupt our regularly scheduled programming (HA) to introduce my friend Kristiina (not a typo) of a little of a lot.

I met Kristiina way back when I worked at a law firm before law school.  Her family of four is having its own little adventure right now; they just moved from Virginia to Denver.  Kristiina has mad photography skillz, knows her way around ALL the beauty products, and she was eating paleo before it was cool.  She also singlehandedly demystified photo editing for me, for which I will be eternally grateful.

Today Kristiina is interviewing me about, gulp, what is in my purse.  Click on over to see

  • how many things have molded in my purse,
  • how many USB drives I found upon an actual cleaning, and
  • which purse I am looking to defile next.

Thanks for checking it out!

Your turn!  What can’t you live without in your bag?  And am I the only person who forgets to clean her bag, like uh, ever?

Henry is a hoot: Volume 2

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Henry says some pretty hilarious things.  I’ve been told that I used to say hilarious things once, but my parents didn’t write it down and cannot remember even one witty anecdote.  Inspired by YHL’s Clara Conversations, I wanted to share some Henry-isms as I collect a critical mass.

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Henry:  (as his nose is running AGAIN)  My nose is bleeding!

Henry:  I want to watch Train Robbers.
Me:  You mean Chuggington?
Henry:  Yeah.

Henry:  (Reading his new favorite book ever, AKA the Lego catalog)  Hulk is wearing a big diaper.

Me:  What is your (stuffed) turtle named?
Henry:  Alligator.
Me:  (The next morning.)  How is Alligator Turtle?
Henry:  No.  His name is Elefante Spiderweb.

Henry:  (After almost every meal) Please clean my messy manos!!

Psst.  Want more hilarious Henry?  Check him out here. 

ICYMI: Almost Easter Edition

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4.3_mac easter

On the blog:

Want to see a parade float of Pope Francis casting out a demon?  (I think that is what is happening anyway.)

Wisdom.  I haz it?

Sniff.  Henry is growing up.  Can I even still call him a toddler?

I have started dabbling on Instagram.  Not sure how active I’ll be on this one (social media makes my head hurt), but would love for you to follow along.

On the internets:

This may not last long, but you can play Pac Man on the streets of certain cities.  Rome is an option!

Oh, I plan to help the kids out on this.

Maybe the chores could also help out on this problem?

For Holy Week, here’s how you can match your Myers-Briggs personality type to a patron saint.

April Fool’s done right:

Coming up:

We are heading down ole Puglia way and will have plenty more adventures to share soon.  Hope you have a wonderful Easter!

Halfway to 3

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Dear Henry,

Not too long ago, some Facebook peeps commented that 2.5 was their absolute favorite age.  I was like, say what?  But now we have reached 2.5, and I totally get it.  You are still wild and you have your meltdowns, but you are so sweet and fun.  You say the craziest things sometimes.  I’m always impressed by how much we can talk about how many things.  I need to up my explanation game.  I feel the “why” questions coming soon.

4.2_kinz

You have a mind like an elephant.  I’m shocked at the things you remember, even after a few months!  You knew where things were at the zoo A FEW MONTHS AFTER YOUR VISIT.  We went to a certain market ONE TIME and we bought bread.  When we returned a few months later, you asked “where’s my bread?”  After you saw a Spiderman outside a museum ONE TIME you ask about Spiderman every time we walk by.  I actually opened your shades the other day and you immediately asked “where are the pinwheels?”  Our neighbors had pinwheels in their planters AT CHRISTMAS.

You are getting more manipulative.  Mommy is your favorite unless Mommy is there and you are stalling for bed and then you need Daddy.  You also need more water, more blankets, a kiss from the parent who is not there, and anything else you can think of to extend your time of awakeness.  It’s usually not very bad, but having you put up any fight is a change for us.  Once you are in bed, you are usually a top notch sleeper.  Unless you’ve lost your chupito (pacifier).  I’ve started to talk up the fact that pacifiers leave at 3.  We’ll see how that goes.  I think you have high sleep needs.  You usually nap at least two hours each afternoon, often much longer.  You are particularly wiped out after a morning at school.

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That’s right.  You are a bona fide bambino, attending 4-6 hours of day care each week.  You started in February.  It has mostly gone well.  At first, getting you out the door in the morning was the absolute worst.  Now it is no walk in the park, but you look forward to school.  (I need to brush up on my car make and models; this is your favorite thing to discuss on the walk to school.)  Sometimes you ask about going when we’re at home.  Valentina is your primary teacher.  Your bestie is Isabella.  I’m not entirely sure what you do at school because you refuse to provide details, and I am suspicious of the tales you relate.  It feels strange to me that you have your own things you do and your own secrets after we spent all of our time together, but I’m happy that you are happy.  And I know you will have many many more of your own things as you get older, and I need to get used to it.  Baby steps for both of us.

You still terrorize your brother, but you can be very sweet with him as well.  I am trying to persuade you to stop taking his toys.  He gets turns too.  Sometimes you offer him a trade so you can steal the toy you want.  I eye all of these things suspiciously.  It makes me remember when I convinced my younger sister to pay me for doing stupid things.  I’m on to you, kid.

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But particularly lately, you have had some awesome moments with Mac.  You really want to play with him.  Even though you are still about 150% too rough, you are starting to take his desires and needs into your play.  Sometimes you bring him toys, just because.  He fell over while you were playing, and you grabbed his hands and helped him back up.  I melted a little.  You ask frequently “What is Mac doing?” and “What is Mac talking about?”  This is all very good because that kid worships you.  I’m really excited to watch the epic Henry-Mac friendship unfold.  Let’s just try to keep the broken bone count to a minimum.

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How could I not love this age?  You just unpromptedly came up and said “I love you so much.”  After a timeout where you threw something at me, you came over and said you were sorry.  We have inside jokes, such as me pretending to not know that you want to take your pants off at nap time.  You dance with abandon.  You have a zeal for life.  Sometimes I wish your head wasn’t so hard and you would save your wrestling for Daddy, but I love that you love me and want to spend your time with me.

You are still a pretty good little eater.  You make it easy for me to have a take it or leave it policy.  If I were worried that you weren’t getting enough, I’m not sure I could take such a hard stance.  You still like zucchini.  Strawberry season has started here, and you are singlehandedly putting a dent in Rome’s strawberry supply.  You are definitely taking advantage of the Italian goodies; pasta, pizza, salumi, and cheese are all your jam.  Not to mention the gelato.  First you liked all pink gelati, but now you are branching out into pistachio, biscotto, and many others.

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With all of your eating, I shouldn’t be surprised that you are growing.  And how.  I haven’t measured you lately, but I can tell.  You can reach more elevator buttons.  When we first got here, I cuffed your pants up twice.  Now I don’t roll them at all.  We just moved you up to your size 7 shoes.  I need to doublecheck and see if you actually have anything that fits for this summer.

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We still read a lot.  Which I love.  Your just went through an obsession with the Lego catalog.  Not the free Lego magazine which you also enjoy, but the straight up catalog.  You called it your “Ninja book.”  You also like all things vehicular and all things Richard Scarry.  Mac is still more into destroying the books than reading them, but I’m hoping we can have even more story time with the three of us soon.

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I had no idea you would be capable of so much at age two.  What is next year?  Defending your thesis on best molding practices for play doh?  I’ll be excited to see.  Just try not to lose your cheeks just yet!

Love, Mom

P.S.  Henry at two and two and a quarter.