"That's Not Food!"

Andy's been chatting up a storm lately.  He's very good at saying thank you, and says thank you all the time- even to himself. The other day, he came out of the bathroom after flushing the toilet (he doesn't use the toilet otherwise, except to flush) and said proudly, "Thank you, Andy!"  Chris looked at me, bewildered.  "Why did Andy just come out of the bathroom thanking himself?" he asked. "He's thanking himself for doing such a good job flushing the toilet," I responded.  "Duh." Andy thanks himself when he throws his sippy cup into the sink, when he fetches his shoes, and when he shares a toy.  He thanks me when I give him the kind of food that borders somewhere between processed and junk.  "Thank you, Mommy!" Andy exclaims when I give him a sugary raspberry cereal bar.  And if I don't reply right away, Andy will point frenetically down at his cereal bar and declare loudly, more forcefully, "THANK YOU MOM...

Andy turned two on the day Alex turned three weeks.  We decided to celebrate this event with a trip to Pirate's Cove, a super tiny theme park specifically for kids ages one to nine. I tried to find a theme park specifically for kids ages three weeks and up, but when I googled that, the only thing that came up was a list of pediatricians, and, for some reason, a map of bars in Alabama. The first ride Andy went on was the merry go round.  I think the pregnancy hormones may still be working their way out of my system, because I got all choked up and teary as the merry go round started up and my sweet little two year old clutched the pole of his pony and began his first solo trip on a merry go round.  The opening bars of "Sunrise, Sunset" began playing in my head, and I was thankful for my dark sunglasses, lest the other mothers label me some kind of unfit, weepy weirdo.  Suddenly, I just couldn't believe how big and grown up my little baby was.  ...

The heat wave is set to expire tonight at seven.  It's been a rough week (or more?) of triple digit temperatures and/or heat indexes.  I can't wait to be able to throw the baby in the stroller, throw the Andy in the stroller, and be able to take a walk to the park.  Alex has not left the house enough.  Of course Andy didn't leave the house until he was four weeks old, but that's the difference between your first baby and your second.  You shelter your first baby and worry about everything.  Your second?  It's different. Andy's bottles were washed and sterilized after every use. It was a time consuming process involving a product that plays upon every new mother's fears:  If your baby comes in contact with a single germ, he will implode.  Alex's bottles, however, are just washed.  No sterilization because this time around; it seems dumb and pointless.  So far, luckily, he has not imploded. I woke Andy after four hours if he h...