Around the house.

It's winter in Minnesota.

See?


I know it's not technically winter yet, but once the windchill hits -30 and you have two feet of snow, I think you get to call it whatever you want. So, winter it is.

Thanks to bitter cold, massive snowstorms, and a very sick little boy, we haven't done much outside our house this month. But that hasn't stopped me from taking pictures...








Poor Matilda. For some reason, I decided it would be a good idea to give Calvin the job of feeding her. What takes me two seconds to do takes Calvin about 10 minutes. She is one seriously patient dog...though the desperation she feels while waiting to eat is pretty evident in these photos.




More to come soon, promise. Maybe I'll get inspired and do some actual writing instead of relying on photos of my kid and dog.

Maybe.

Thankful.

This Thanksgiving, I was thankful for:

My sweet parents, who drove 800 miles to be with us. And by "us" I mean Calvin. Nate and I have gracefully accepted our demotion to chopped liver.





(This is terrible of Cal but so cute of my parents that I had to include it.)


My lovely and always generous in-laws, who hosted Thanksgiving for 20 people and three dogs (Sorry, Denny...I only got a picture of Mary!).


Another holiday with Grandma Adele, who made her famous lefsa.



(Not as thankful for the lefsa itself, though. I try it every year, and every year I make a similar "you people are crazy" face. Calvin seemed to enjoy it, though.)


A sleeping Matilda, something never before seen at a family gathering.


Time spent with people we love (some of whom didn't make it on the camera, unfortunately).





My amazing pie-making skills, without which we would have been starving and dessert-less.


(Yeah, not even close.)


My incredible husband, who really is just the cutest guy ever.


And, finally, my precious Calvin, for whom I am thankful every single day.




In case you were wondering, yes - that last one is a picture of Calvin's first kiss. The first of MANY first kisses he had with Madelyn that night. Luckily, Miss Madelyn is more than capable of sticking up for herself.

Good/Bad.

Turns out I have no idea what I'm doing with this whole parenting thing.

Shocking.

My usually sweet child has turned into a part-time hellion. This weekend he started throwing full-blown toddler tantrums. Of course I have no clue how to handle this kicking/screaming/crying/hitting/headbutting/total desperation thing he's got going on, because like everything else he's thrown my way over the course of the last 18 months, I haven't gotten to that part of the book yet.

Really, it's humbling. As soon as I start to feel an ounce of pride in my parenting skills, he enters a new phase of terrible that knocks me on my rear. What's that old adage about pride and falling...?

On the flip side, he's suddenly saying well over 100 words. And a few phrases, such as "I did it!" "I don't know!" "I cook!" "Bye, Mama (or Dada, Mattie, Nana, truck, etc.)." He's pretty much repeating everything we say and whipping out new and unexpected words left and right. My favorite? He's started telling us when he poops. "Poop, Mama. I did it!" Funny, funny boy.

Seems to me each phase brings both good and bad. Newborns are sweet and cuddly and unable to move, but they keep you up all night. And 18-month-olds are adorable and smart and sleep all night, but they are also opinionated and embarrassing and disobedient.

Such fun.

For kicks, here are Cal's 18-month stats:

Weight: 26lbs, 13oz (63rd percentile)
Height: 33.5 inches (85th percentile)
Head: Big (90th percentile)

Also for kicks, a photo April took while she was visiting. I love his curls in this one. He might look just like his Daddy, but he's got a bit of his Mama in him, too.


I don't love the tantrums, but I sure love the boy who throws them...

Against all odds.

Against all odds — including pink eye, severe colds, sore throats, migraines, nausea, and sub-zero temperatures — April and I made it down to First Avenue to see Joshua Radin in concert last Monday night.

I am happy to report that the experience was totally worth dragging my sorry, exhausted, sick, sad self off the couch, out of my pjs, and into real clothes.

Me and my pink eye, and April and her glasses (we heard he likes girls in glasses).


Yep. As suspected, totally adorable in person.


He looks less adorable and more crazy in this one, but look! He's so close! Behind that girl's arm!


Minnesota girls don't wear socks with skinny jeans, even in winter. Or coats in 15-degree weather when going out downtown Minneapolis at night. At least that's what I told April. (She may never forgive me. That was really stupid and we totally froze. Plus we're both Chicago girls, so what on earth was I trying to prove?)


I love having a friend who will fly two states over and lie on my couch for three days with me while we're both sick just to see a concert. I'd like to think it's because April really loves me, but I know the truth:

Joshua Radin is really dreamy.

True story.

Once upon a time, on the Saturday night before Thanksgiving, a Girl Who Worked a Crappy Job That Got Her In Loads of Debt was set up with a Guy She Didn't Want to Meet by a Friend Who Also Worked the Same Crappy Job. The Friend had a Boyfriend who was the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet's best friend from high school.

The Girl told the Friend that she wasn't interested in being set up, but the Friend told the Girl that she thought she would hit it off with the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet. So the Girl reluctantly agreed to go out in a big group that included the Friend, the Boyfriend, the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet, and a few other people.

It was fun. The Girl Who Worked a Crappy Job liked the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet. They played Golden Tee at the bar and she used all her best flirty moves and he used a few clumsy lines and they drank a little and laughed a lot.

Then a Charming Scottish Guy tried to pick up the girl at the bar, and the Girl was flattered but not interested, so she grabbed the hand of the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet and claimed he was her boyfriend. The Charming Scottish Guy smiled, shrugged, and walked away, but the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet kept holding her hand. He held it as they left the bar and crossed the street and until they got back to the car, where he let go so he could pee in someone's bushes. Once that happened the Girl didn't want to hold the Guy's hand anymore, but she did find his off-key rendition of Britney Spears' "Crazy" kind of endearing during the drive back to her Friend's house.

And she was a little thrilled when he called a few days later to invite her over for movie night with friends.

And somewhat suspicious when movie night turned into date night because everyone but the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet left as soon as she got there.

But the Girl was happy as the night wore on and the conversation got deeper and the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet sat a little closer and the first date turned into a second date which turned into a third date which turned into love.

And nine years later, the Girl Who Worked a Crappy Job That Got Her in Loads of Debt and the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet found themselves living happily ever after with a Sweet Little Boy and a Small Brown Dog.

And the Guy She Didn't Want to Meet still holds the Girl's hand whenever they cross the street.

The End.

18 months.

Before bed each night, Calvin and I pray together. And almost always, mid-prayer, I burst out laughing at the thought of something funny he did or said that day. I end with a giggly thanks to God for the joy Calvin brings to our home.

I think joyful is the best description of life with Calvin. There's plenty of frustration in parenting a toddler, of course. But the overwhelming feeling I have each and every night as I laugh and play and talk and read with my son is joy. He delights me. His enormous smile, his silly antics, his narration of our daily activities. His vocabulary, which has taken off like a rocket these last few weeks, is endlessly entertaining. I know it will get old at some point, but right now I could listen to his excited "Mama! Mama! Mama!" all day long.

Yesterday I let him "help" me put together my Thanksgiving centerpiece, which led to tiny broken pieces of angel vine all over my floor. He reluctantly helped me pick it all up and put it in a Target bag, only to dump it all back out on the floor when I wasn't looking. When I asked him where the bag went, he threw his hands up, shook his head, and said "I don't know!"

I've been trying to teach him to use "please" when he needs something. We're working on the sign (rubbing in a circular motion over your heart) because even though he knows how to say the word, he just hasn't been able (or willing?) to put two and two together. So after scarfing down a few fruit snacks yesterday, he came to me asking for more. He signed and said "more!" and I asked him to say please. Instead of saying it, he started rubbing all over his body, desperately. Like "Oh no, which one is it? I know it involves rubbing...here? No? Here? No? C'mon, Mom! I'm trying! How about I just start clawing at my neck??"

There are a number of books he loves right now (and that we read over and over and over and over...I've started hiding books in the chair cushions when he's not looking) including Chicka Chicka Boom Boom, Big Red Barn, New Socks, and Teeth Are Not For Biting. Each of these stories has an expression he anxiously waits to say — in Chicka Chicka Boom Boom he says "Oh nooooo!", during Big Red Barn he says "Mooooooooooooo" when he sees the cow and "Dog! Dog! Dog!" when he sees the dog, in New Socks he says "WHOA!" when the character goes flying across the wood floor, and in Teeth Are Not For Biting he likes to smile and say "CHEEEEEESE!" at the end.

He's also begun offering hugs as repentance. Last week he relapsed and bit another child at daycare. The incident report always outlines how they dealt with the situation, and on this one they wrote "give hugs." This weekend I noticed any time Calvin did something naughty and was caught, he would smile brightly and say "hugs!" and lean in to hug the offended party — me, Matilda (not interested), the book he tossed across the room, etc.

He's smart, this child of mine. He is also charming, mischievous, silly, independent, stubborn, loyal, endearing, and loving. I don't think I've met another kid who willingly gives as many hugs and kisses as he does (which has led us to wonder if he'll turn into that creepy guy who tries to give everyone back rubs...we'll work on that.). While he's inherited an noticeable blend of traits from the two of us, Calvin has a BIG personality that's all his own. What a blessing it's been for us to watch him grow from helpless infant to independent toddler these past 18 months.

Parenting Calvin is not and will not be easy. He challenges me in a million different ways every day, and he's not even three feet tall yet. But the joy he brings to our family and our home is indescribable.

And what's joy without a little suffering?

A relaxing weekend.

In my mind, I woke up this morning at a reasonable hour to a clean house and child who's eyes weren't crusted shut. I didn't find three inches of snow in my yard and I didn't have to cancel brunch with my brother due to Calvin's increasingly red eye. I didn't have to bundle up my son and drag him out into the cold and snow (which I didn't have to spend 15 minutes scraping off my car) or drive 45 minutes across town in treacherous conditions to urgent care. I didn't have to hold my son down so the doctor could examine him and diagnose him with pink eye, and I didn't have to drive another 45 minutes back across town in treacherous conditions to get his prescription filled at the Target near our house. I didn't spend 20 minutes wandering around Target trying to console/entertain/constrain a hungry, cranky little boy who was getting dangerously close to naptime, nor did I find out upon my return to the pharmacy that they didn't actually have the medication I was waiting for. I didn't have to wait even longer while they called other pharmacies in the area to see if they had it, only to determine the closest place was a Walgreens in the opposite direction of my house. I didn't have to drive my overly-tired-darned-near-starving kid to yet another place in treacherous conditions to drop off the prescription, and I didn't have to sit in the parking lot and feed him a random assortment of groceries purchased at Target for lunch while we waited for it to be done. I didn't hear from the Walgreens pharmacist that the Target pharmacist had miscalculated the dose and they'd probably had enough back at Target after all. And I certainly didn't come home to even more snow needing to be shoveled or the task of putting eye drops in an ridiculously exhausted and very crabby boy.

In my mind.