Sunday, September 28, 2008


Elliot looked at Fred tonight, said "nigh night?" and cocked his head to the side, nodding as if to say Yes, I really did just ask to go to bed.

Fred took him back, read stories and laid him down. Just as he was getting covered with a blanket he looked up at Fred and said "tank oo" (thank you) and smiled.

Nighty night, Elliot. Sleep tight.

Saturday, September 27, 2008

This Week, In Pictures

Earlier this week, Elliot was determined to fit inside of his boat. Inside it, not just on it or around it or with his feet in it. He tried every which way to no avail.

Mommy, my very first pair of pj pants finally died. A moment of silence please. Would you ever imagine that the pants YOU made me would be the source of inspiration for my first tattoo??

Dear Fred, When you taught your son to 'body slam' the teddy bear did you really think he wouldn't body slam you?

Get along, little doggie. Apparently now our horse rides best when the rider is adorned with a pj top, a diaper and a hat. Giddy up.

Friday, September 26, 2008

Crazy Brenda, I Highly Dislike You.

One of Elliot's classmates has an over-the-top mother whom I lovingly refer to as Crazy Brenda (CB). She is that woman that constantly compares your kid to her shining example.

This episode happened this week: I dropped Elliot off and went about 10 feet away to fill out his paperwork. I hear the shining example rattling off names of the classmates. Then I hear CB say "Hmm, now if only you could get Elliot to talk."

Excuse me? Are you kidding me? I'm still within earshot, lady. And he talks just fine - he's 20 freaking months old. Just because he can't enunciate 'backhoe loader' like yours can doesn't mean something is wrong.

I really wanted to jump over the counter and say "At least my kid has all of his teeth!" HA - that'll teach her. But surely, in her best one-upping voice, Crazy Brenda would tell me that her shining example is so evolved that she's not even going to mess with all of her baby teeth.

Thursday, September 25, 2008


One second he's in the throes of fit-dom - crashing, thrashing, screaming and crying. The very next second he walks to me (still sobbing), hugs my leg and kisses my pant leg.

Son, you've just saved your life.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Really? Someone Funnier Than Me?

So. Over a month ago I got a sales call from GoToMeeting and wound up talking with someone that maybe possibly might sort of be as funny (or heaven forbid funnier) than me - Rich. I figured that no one with a drab name like Rich could possibly compete- but a recent barrage of emails had me on my toes (or fast-typing fingers) just to keep up.

Here are some excerpts:
A: I am quite terrible at returning calls... so here I am avoiding my phone like the plague. (Then I clacked on about changes and being busy.)

R: I was starting to think you died. And I was starting to get concerned. Which is strange, I know, because why be concerned if somebody is already dead? ... And ... she re-emerged, like Davy Jones from Pirates of the Caribbean! I'm so glad you're alive! (He went on to mention random facts from our previous phone call.)

A: HA! What, are you stalking me? I actually have a medical excuse to throw in there. (Insert emergency gall bladder thing.) Soooo in all of my pain and stress I managed to alienate my bestest California friend ever. And for that, my friend, I apologize.

R: No need to apologize. I'm just ... trying to make a living by providing your organization with a useful and affordable tool that embraces the internet and the future of business. See how I sneaked that over-the-top sales pitch in there? ... It's called an incredible memory and it only becomes stalking if I use the information to manipulate you ... which, of course, I would never do (unless your org doesn't buy my product). Just kidding. (Sorta.)

A: I can't believe there might be someone funnier than me ... it's a hard blow to my ego. I feel the urge to blog about this but I may need to manipulate your text to fit within my post.

R: Are you saying you can say what I said better? You could do a better job of being me? ... I can see why you wouldn't want to post my magnificent prose alongside your own fine work - nobody wants that kind of competition on their site.

End of email transmissions. So, really, is he funnier than me? I'm concerned. Take the poll to the left and let me know you still love me more.

UPDATE: It has come to my attention (mostly after finding out that even FRED voted for the enemy) that I should point out you are supposed to judge his little bits of funniness with my entire amount of funniness - not just these snippets. And if I continue to lose I will pull this poll so that I can save some amount of face.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Little Things

Subject of Research: Elliot, 20 months

This weekend, our little guy FINALLY figured out how to successfully drink from a straw. You would've thought he just won a triathlon - that huge smile and looking around to make sure everyone saw what just happened.

He is so impressed with himself when he sees flashing lights and says "wee-oo wee-oo" while raising his jazz hands - and more impressed when I say 'Yes, that IS a firetruck!'

Every day he learns more words and as he is increasingly more able to communicate with us he exudes such an enormous feeling of accomplishment that you can't help but beam proudly when he said 'bocks' (blocks) for only the 2nd time in his life and his dense mom actually GETS OUT THE BLOCKS.

Also this weekend he figured out how to make his push car move forward (instead of always backwards) and it was that same look of shock and awe intermingled with "Look at me go!" looks.

Enough gushing. Oh - and I guess I do love him so he's off the market. Sorry Aunt B. (But hey - how old does he need to be to come to cousin camp?)

Anna = Embarrassment

Ever since I was pregnant with Elliot my basic math skills have been lacking. No, not lacking - completely non-existent. I can't even do a simple addition of 8 and 5 without using my fingers.

Our money system involves one joint account and then we each have a personal account with an "allowance" to spend on whatever and not have to have the other involved. (Works especially great for gift-buying times.)

Then I get this email today:
Really, I work at a bank and My Wife has overdrawn her checking account.
I am now on the naughty list at work.
This is embarrassing.

I don't have an explanation. I'm not even going to try. I eat out too much at work, don't bother with receipts and never check my online balance. I have never ever overdrawn an account before today.

Bad Anna, Bad BAD Anna.

Monday, September 22, 2008

Baby For Sale.. or Free.

Adorable toddler boy seeks new home full of unconditional love.

Owners must have constant supply of "cwakkers" and diligently read the "tuck buk" multiple times a day agreeing that all "tucks" are firetrucks in which case you must wee-oo-wee-oo every time.

Must possess a cat for toddler show you where its ears and tail are (by yanking on them) and also possess a "gampa" and "ganma" for him to see through the front window (and bang on until the entire house shakes).

Lately, must enjoy cleaning up puke at 2 a.m. and have a fondness for Class-A Fit Throwing (in which he excels). Over absolutely nothing. A million times each day.

Comes with clothes, shoes and furniture and gives excellent kisses.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

My Latest Obsession

I just can't get over how cool this is. You type in an artist you like and it creates a music station for you to listen to. Its online and its free - two of my favorite things.

To avoid some bizarre form of plagiarism, I suppose I should mention that I heard about Pandora while visiting Kinetic Brew downtown.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Missouri, You Had Me at Hello

I just love our weekend jaunts to Missouri although we just don't make them often enough. The play-by-play of our weekend has already been done here - so I'll give you some funny excerpts from the 'wise beyond his years', 6 year old Ethan:

End of a conversation about what only 'old people' do:
A: Ethan, how old do you think I am?
E: 14.
A: Nope, I'm 30.
E: Well I'm 80. Today's my birthday. Where's my present?
A: Uhhhhhhh I don't have one and today is not your birthday.
E: Yes it is and I'm 80. (Humphed in a hurt feeling way and looked away)

Fred and Bill were discussing some guy who hand-crafts Legos into various unavailable things like WWII pieces and weaponry, etc. During their exchange is this:
E: Fred. Fred. Fred! Fred! Freddie!! Fred. Fred. FRED!
A, F and B: WHAT???
E: (Looks shocked b/c full attention is on him) I do that.
A, F and B laugh hysterically.

While playing Legos:
F: I think he's an architect.
E: I know what an architect does.
F: What do they do?
E: They do things.

Trying to show Elliot how to get down the stairs on his behind:
E: (Ahead of us) Come on Elliot, I'll teach you. See Elliot, bump bump bump down on your bottom.
A: That's nice of you, Ethan.
E: I teach people. Big and Small. And older than me and younger than me.

Anna comments on Bill's over-use of crackers-to-chili ratio:
A: Wow, that looks about how much cool whip you put on a pie.
F: What? Cool whip? Oh - I get it.
E: (Holding his Indiana Jones whip) Yeah, Fred, my whip is cool.
A, F and B laugh hysterically.

There is tons more where that came from... but these were the cream of the crop.

Monday, September 15, 2008

Thank You!

We got a package in the mail on Friday just before leaving for Missouri. Thank you Grandma and Grandpa Seckman - they're perfect!

Friday, September 12, 2008

I Seem to Like Writing Letters...

Dear Elliot,

I love you.

I love your crazy dancing (even when it results in cracking your skull into things). I love your crazy toddler language. I love the way you can study some inanimate object for intense minutes and wonder what you're thinking. I love the way you climb up on things but insist on help to get back down (I still get to feel needed even as you're growing up so fast). I love the way you demand crackers for every meal (or do I?). I love the way you play in the bath as though it is the most fun you've had all day. I love watching you read your books. I love how you rock on the horse. I love the way you look in overalls (and those awesomely too small Levis). I love that you are an "easy" child most days. I love that you sing yourself to sleep every night. I love that you get up sometimes at 5 a.m. (not really I don't). I love the way you ask "whassat?" to everything and patiently wait for an answer.

Most of all? I love cruising into daycare at 5:15 to pick you up. You spot me, grin widely and drop whatever it was you were playing with making a run at me (and trampling other children sometimes) yelling Momma! the entire way. I love the big hug I get when you finally reach me.

I love that that moment for today is only about 6 hours away.

Love, Momma

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

I Am "That Girl"

We all know that girl or that guy that you worked with that did something stupid. I have to admit it - I am that girl.

Yesterday we were moving offices and I was trying to help out a coworker by fixing a wood carved sculpture that broke in her office. I got the toolbox. I got out a fresh new tube of super glue. I popped the seal and PSSSSHHHH out sprayed glue... everywhere. It was like a mini fountain of water droplets only these were super sticky death droplets.

Wendi describes what happened best - I was worried about it being all over the place, on my hands and face and potentially even in my eye (because, seriously, like I need the Menard's Incident all over again??) and then a look came over my face. Oh. Shit. I looked at Wendi and said "Wendi?" in my small, did-this-really-just-happen voice. My finger was glued to the super glue bottle. Super glued to the super glue bottle.

At first it was a little funny, until it really wouldn't come off. (Which begs the question - why do we inevitably think that it wouldn't really stick to us?) Then we realized we had no way to remove the bottle. We tried hot water - nothing. Even a piece of ice - nothing. Called Katy and she suggested WD-40 (seriously??) but we didn't have any. Finally, Wendi made a trip down to Walgreen's to get some Acetone that according to our online sources said it should work.

What they didn't warn us about is putting acetone in a Styrofoam bowl. If you ever want to see a bowl disappear in literally 4 seconds - fill it with acetone.

In the end, the glue bottle came off and I didn't lose much skin. Fellow employees were a little bummed that a. I wasn't thinking it was hilarious yet and b. I didn't get a picture of the glue bottle stuck to my finger. Hey - I can't ALWAYS be the funny one.

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

Howdy Pardners, My Britches Don't Fit

I've come to terms with the fact that Elliot is shorter than the average bear. Apparently I haven't come to terms that he is actually still growing and not just weighing more.

It's pants weather and I excitedly grabbed the BEST pair of jeans ever - a pair of dark blue classic orange-stitched Levi's from his Grandma Cindy. I put them on and noticed they were a little snug and thought "eh, he'll be okay for today." I mean, really, he just wore them a few weeks ago, he can't possibly have outgrown them.

I should have known when I had to help him stand.

He gripped on to my arm for dear life and when he was standing shot me a peculiar look as if to say mom, what the heck? He was able to take almost 2 steps at a time, in a very bow-legged manner, before crashing to the ground. I thought my little cowboy was cute - I didn't realize he couldn't BEND HIS LEGS. He bowed and crashed a few more times before looking me directly in the eye and screaming.

Got it, Elliot. Got it loud and clear.

The pants came off and as my way of apologizing I let him run around pants-less for a while. I already miss those jeans. Oh, and you can send new clothes, size 18-24 months (shirts/pants) or 2T (shirts only) directly to our house.

Wednesday, September 3, 2008

Diaper Cakes, Eateries and Climbing on Chairs

My parents came on Saturday to hang out with us and thankfully it only took Elliot 15 minutes to warm up to them. I was a little concerned, but it's amazing what a piggy bank in the shape of a car and a seemingly endless handful of change will do!

My house guests, cousins Sabrina and way-pregnant Teresa, came Saturday night. I learned a nifty craft that is still somewhat new to the Nebraska area: making a diaper cake. As Auntie D and my mom learned, a diaper cake is not a real cake but a crafting of diapers in the form of a wedding cake. A cake adorned with all varieties of baby items.

We, of course, had to eat at Runza and Valentino's. They are fine establishments, my dear out of town guests, but Lincoln has more to offer than cabbage rolls and pizza and I would LOVE to show them to you!

Teresa's baby shower was Sunday and that was a blast. Crazy Aunt Brenda did her voodoo on the girls to predict their babies. (I probably shouldn't note this here, but CAB did predict I would have a boy and a girl. I had the boy. You can keep the girl.)

On Monday, the girls left. Almost immediately, a new little boy sprouted out of Elliot - climbing up chairs and bar stools, screeching his voice, running and even sprouting another of his eye teeth. He's a changed man, I tell ya, a changed man. The best part of Monday was checking out the new spray grounds at recently renovated Trago Park. (I forgot the camera, sorry.) Elliot loved it and so did his parents; I hope these catch on - we had more fun at this than a pool any day.

Then came Tuesday. Fred went to work. Anna went to work. Elliot went to school. And Sienna?

Well, she napped all day without being chased around, shaken from a nap, hit with pillows and forced to kiss and hug. I guess at least someone shows her attention, right?

Monday, September 1, 2008

What I Meant to Say...

You know how sometimes you say one thing but meant to say something else? That happened to me this weekend. The scenario - Elliot was climbing on the kitchen chair being a complete goofball. Here's what happened next.

A: Elliot, I swear you are one foot out of being in a menstal institution.
F: A 'menstal' institution?
A: Shut up, you know what I meant!
F: Did you just tell him he's in a menstrual institution?
A: (Look of shock) I did not!
F: Well... I guess he sort of is from a menstrual institution.

I was laughing so hard I couldn't even jot down the situation to be able to blog about it. Fred was laughing, I was laughing - then Elliot decided it must be funny so he laughed and clapped.