Well Babies

So we wait, and wait for the sniffles and sneezes and coughing to back off a bit so that we can take the little people to the pediatrician for their “Well Baby” check ups. Funny how that works–isn’t it?

Beckham loved the tiny light that made his fingers glow…

and was good with sticking out his tongue and saying, “Ahhhh.”

But when the doctor said, “May I look in your ears for a second?” he wasn’t having any of it.

She checked his tummy and heart and reflexes just fine, but he spent the rest of the check up with his hand over his ear…you know, just in case.  Silly guy.

But Lily? She listened to her own heart, and stuck out her own tongue just at the right moment…

and giggled with the ear peeking and tummy rubs.

She loved it!

Now in the interest of full disclosure–I’ll admit, they didn’t really like the next part. You’ll notice that there are no pictures for their very first immunizations. That’s because I was on the “distraction committee” so that two three-year-olds didn’t turn into sixty-four wild hyenas.

Turned out–they were good little sports and got over the poke quite bravely.

Of course, Grammy’s bag of Jelly Bellys didn’t hurt one bit either.

Been around the block myself, you know.

heh, heh.

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Happy Birthday Big Brother!

Happy Birthday Cynthia!

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If You Insist

I’m certain that if it was in my power–

to hold them still and keep them in this time and space…

I would be tempted to do it–for a while longer, at least.

Until I get my fill of the hugs and kisses and baby talk and lost shoes and favorite blankies and all-fall-downs and made up words and ants-go-marching and wrong side outs–that are the way of these little people. The things that tuck them straight into my grammie-heart for safe keeping.

Maybe I could just let them know when I’m finished with it all.

Because seriously…

no matter what Lily or the candles say~

they still get to be my babies

for a while yet.

Just a Hint…

of the fabric frenzy going on around here. Oh, the thread is really flying…

and you know I can never keep secrets to myself.

This little project was suppose to be a surprise for the babies birthdays–Chompy’s 2nd, and Lily and Beck’s 3rd.

But I guess I’m having too much fun sewing, stuffing, cutting…

tacking, stitching, embellishing…

buttoning, strapping, ziz-zagging…

(never mind wanting to play with all this cuteness myself–sheesh!)

to stop and actually give the presents to those sweet patient little souls.

Hopefully, by the end of the week, I’ll show you the finished projects.

And if the babies are lucky–they may just get them before…

high school…

perhaps.

heh.

:}

“That Cake Guy”

I remember some kid at school asking me one day, “Isn’t your dad that cake guy?” and I said, “Yep.” I didn’t really get how he knew it, though. Turns out, that his brother was in my sister’s class and she had brought her teacher a fancy birthday cake that dad had made.

Laurie and I were famous for about two days–as daughters of “that cake guy.” It was lovely while it lasted.

Many years later, when I was married, with a couple of kids, Daddy called me and said, “Marie Osmond wants me to make her wedding cake.” I positively–ok, ok, nearly fainted dead away.

What you may not know, is that I’d always been a Donny fan and was, in fact, certain that if he’d been in his right mind–which he wasn’t–he would have married me…instead of whoever he actually married. So this was indeed big news.

Dad fussed and messed around in the bake shop for weeks, figuring and calculating how to make the most enormous cake he’d ever made before–because it’s what Marie wanted. I remember the day he was working on that bottom tier–biggest thing I’d ever seen–when somebody said, “Well, it’s pretty, but how are you going to fit it out the door?”

Eee Gads.

Seriously.

There he was, nearly finished with the thing and in fact, it wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly fit out the door.

Do you suppose it’s blasphemous to pray your guts out for a cake? I hope not, because that’s exactly what we did. As Dad and the guys lifted the ridiculous thing and headed to the door, we all whispered, “Please-please-please-please…” Then, as they started to tip it to the side, we crossed our fingers that it wouldn’t slide off the cake board and smash to the ground. We all chanted, “don’t let it slip…don’t let it slip…don’t let it slip.”

Miracle of miracles–and lucky for US…our prayers were answered…

and it didn’t.

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Happy Birthday Beckham!

Happy Birthday Lily!