Monday, December 31, 2007

Letters to My Son - 18 Months

Dearest Rito

You are now 18 months old. It seems like it was yesterday when we brought home a helpless, wrinkly and oddly shaped baby home from the hospital. Now you are tall, lean and independent little boy. 

In the last six weeks you have gone through a HUGE growth spurt and clothing that was too big on you two months ago is now in the "I have outgrown it" pile; you have burned through an entire wardrobe faster then Mama ever could imagine was possible. You must be into another growth spurt right now as well since you have decided to wake up and eat every single night. Last night you were up five times between 2:11am and 6:30am; twice to eat and 3 times to holler at the top of your lungs. I don't think you will be the smallest boy in our playgroup anymore!

Christmas was a lot of fun this year, you attempted to open some presents (but preferred the boxes and wrapping paper over the contents of the boxes), ate a bunch of junk (chocolate! and candy canes!) and learned a new game called RUN from your much older cousins. Santa was very good to you this year and brought you a toboggan, which is still in the living room since you insist on "riding" it daily. All the gifts were great but your favorite new toy is not a toy at all, but a pair of winter boots. You love putting your boots on (usually on the wrong feet) and running around the house illuminating the dark hallways with the blinking lights on the side of your boots. We haven't even worn the boots outside yet because we don't want to take away your favorite new toy. 

You have mastered eating with a fork, and you are getting pretty good at using a spoon now. Lately you prefer to have juice from a glass (yeah glass) not a cup or a sippy cup; it has to be a glass or you get pretty angry about it. This week you started calling me Mama (instead of the nagging Mahm! that you have been doing) which is music to my ears. Your vocabulary is growing each day and I can not even keep track of how many words you can say now but it has to be close to 100 words. Whenever I ask you to sing your "Christmas Song" you sing "Wa La La Wa La" (like the fa la la la la  in Deck the Halls) it is the cutest thing I have ever heard. 

In the last 18 months you have taught me how to be a Mom. You are the first thing on my mind when I get up each morning and the last thing I think of before I fall asleep. My dreams are filled with your smiling face and sweet voice. You keep me busy and perpetually exhausted. On the good days we laugh and chase each other around, and on the not so good days I always promise to do better for you tomorrow. I love you so much it really does hurt. 

You are such a great little man that Daddy and I are crazy enough to try to do this again. 

Love you more then chocolate, 

P.S. Vegetables are NOT poisonous and even though you don't believe me your favorite cucumbers ARE a vegetable. 

Monday, December 03, 2007

I call bullshit.

I am sitting in the basement watching "The Perfect Man" a movie with Hillary Duff (from circa 2005). Yes, sometimes this is how I spend Rito's nap time

But I digress. 

This movie is supposed to be about a girl (who has her own blog, ironic) who's Mom runs away from every relationship and relocates her children to other towns where the man-pickings are fresh. The Mom works for bakers or is a baker but obviously never holds down a job for any length of time. Even "Hillary" walks in to a cheesy bistro and says "I can't afford this". 

So what I want to know is how they can afford: 

  1. A 3 bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with insane architectural details
  2. A 400$ Marc Jacobs tunic for a 15 year old girl
  3. A $300 Marc Jacobs satin top (same on Britney Spears wore a few years back)
  4. I think she (Hillary Duff)  is also carrying a Fendi bag in one scene - about $1700.00 worth of Fendi bag. 
Or does she get a ton of revenue as a 15 year old blogger? My ass. Unlikely. I would think a single Mom would be getting the kids clothing at Target or something affordable

Only in freaking Hollywood.