Happy Thanksgiving!

Even though it was just the three of us - and one of us, by which unfortunately I DON'T mean me or Brandon, isn't exactly a big eater - we decided to go all out with the whole Thanksgiving feast. Brandon and I are big fans of turkey with all the fixings, so we figured it would be worth the effort. It was (um, especially since most of the effort was courtesy Brandon):


That's the non-gravy version...does anyone else think gravy is totally overrated and unnecessary in the face of the awesomeness that is canned cranberry jelly? Also, notice how the green beans are basically being shoved off the plate by all the good stuff...

Anyway, as much as we wish we could have spent the day with family, we had a good time cooking, watching the Packers (although I wish it had been my Vikings...I'm a lifelong fan, you know) and prepping for "Black Friday." We were sure Anthony would wake us up in plenty of time for the door buster sales; of course, for once he "slept in" until 6:30.

The little guy has been a bit under the weather lately with a case of Foot and Mouth or Hoof and Mouth orHand, Foot and Mouth or whatever the common one is that babies, not cattle, get. I don't feel like googling it right now in respect of accuracy. While you can imagine how GREAT it is to miss two full days of work in an already shortened week (hello going in on Saturday!), in true Thanksgiving spirit, I was grateful for the extra time to spend with my little guy, who was in fairly good spirits despite his malady.

He especially liked the Indian (Native American?) hat he brought home from our non-politically correct daycare:

That is, until he started wearing it like a necktie. Then he wasn't so sure. Don't worry, buddy, your daddy makes that same face when he has to put on a tie.Anyway, it was a fun Thanksgiving, which concluded with all of us looking something like this:

Is there any other way a Thanksgiving should end?

Anthony is 17 months old today!

As he closes in on the 1-and-a-half mark, here's what our little guy is into (aside from everything we don't want him to be into, of course):

Going to the park:

Making cheesy faces for the camera:

Stacking his blocks:

Playing "who's there?" when he hears the front door open ... then seeming mildly disappointed when it's only me or Brandon. Who does he expect, Dora?:

Putting little objects in a bucket. Then taking them out. Then putting them in. Then taking them out. Then putting them in. Thennnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn Whoops! I nodded off for a minute.

Fortunately, he leaves a little time here and there for our favorite activity...being cute! (Ok, sleeping is really our favorite activity for Anthony, but I don't have a picture of that...you really think I'm going to risk waking him up with a camera flash?!?)

Our family

Amid much whining, some epic temper tantrums and a good deal of foot-dragging, I managed to gather the family Sunday for a professional photo session with my talented coworker Chantal.

And once Brandon put all that behind him, I think things went pretty well:

Trick or Treat!

Anthony's second Halloween brought a trip to the Midwest and his first-ever trick-or-treating voyage. Although getting there certainly was NOT half the fun, being there was great, as Anthony got to see Grandma Dianne and Grandpa Harry, Grandma Char and Grandpa Dave, cousins Bradley and Matthew, and Aunt Ellen and Uncle Justin.

Even though Anthony "treated" us all to his special brand of chaos, he saved most of his "tricks" for later (hey, it wasn't MY kid who dumped out all the goldfish crackers. Just saying. Please don't mention that glass of wine...). Unfortunately, by "later" I mean that special joy that is a plane ride with a toddler. Sorry Airtran flights 563 and 59!

Anyway, it was a great weekend, and thank you to everyone who let us descend upon you! We hope we didn't do any permanent damage.

Here are some pictures:

Three little M&Ms in the adorable costumes Aunt Ellen made, treating the St. Louis area to a whole lotta cuteness:


Looks like someone likes being an M&M:
Anthony's first taste of playing in the leaves on a gorgeous Midwest fall day:

Pumpkin Patch Kid

It's pumpkin time! I think there's a law that says everyone who has a small child has to take that child to a pumpkin patch this time of year.

So, even though I have a very reasonable and justifiable fear of pumpkin patches (something to do with pumpkins rotting due to a certain city's October heat and humidity, sitting on pumpkins to prop up a 4-month-old and standing up to discover pumpkin all over my backside) I manned up (mommed up?) and carted Anthony to the festivities.

I'm glad I did - he got a lot more out of it this year, as he was able to walk around, climb on piles of pumpkins and pick out his own Anthony-sized pumpkin, whereas last year all he could do is lounge where Grandma Char and I put him and endure the endless picture taking (although I swear I heard him snicker when I stood up with pumpkin on my butt and had to ask for a baby wipe...)

And now for my next trick...

Now that Anthony can stand up and walk all by himself (I KNOW!!!! And he's ONLY 16 months!!!) he's trying out some cool new tricks.

Unfortunately, this is one of them:

Oh well, I guess they're just baby teeth...and it's not like we thought an orthodontist wasn't going to be a big part of our future, anyway.

Still, I hate to mess with a smile like this one:

Anthony is 16 months old today...

…can I please be marooned on a deserted island until he’s 3 or so?

Month 16 has brought walking and its associated cuteness and relief from back strain, but also a flip side … tantrums. Basically, the back pain caused by hauling around 25 pounds of toddler has been replaced with the headaches born of what sounds like an entire day care center being told that Michael Vick has just kidnapped Blue AND Clifford.

In other words, the cuteness of walking? Completely mitigated.

At a belated 15-month pediatrician visit last week, I wouldn’t let Anthony wile away the 30-minute wait by opening and closing the door to the exam room ad nauseum, as I don’t wish for him to be diagnosed with OCD just quite yet. Oh, and also because it is annoying and what if he closed the door right when the doctor was about to walk in to see us and the doctor thought I had closed it because I wanted privacy for some reason and so he moved on to another exam room and I had to wait another 30 minutes trapped in a small windowless room with a 16-month-old?

I think I’m hyperventilating.

Fortunately, my cruel ruining of Anthony’s fun ensured there was no way the doctor, or anybody else for that matter, could overlook us, what with the wailing and the screaming and the carrying on that could probably be heard in Fort Lauderdale. Maybe even Pompano Beach.

Come to think of it, once Anthony threw his fit, the doctor did seem to make his appearance with unusual promptness, and whipped through his routine checks with impressive efficiency. Hmmm…if this could get me moved to the front of the line at Target, maybe the fact that the Terrible 2’s seem to have arrived eight months early won’t be so bad…