Cheerios and Vomit

Some things you may not know about the small Hansons (unless you live with them):

• Greta's thumb and index finger are tiny oat-seeking missiles. She is perfecting her pincer.
• She hums while she eats.
• She always wakes up smiling. Even when she sleeps only 4 nanoseconds at night, like she did last night.
• She has a cry identical to her brother's. It can be hard to tell over the baby monitor which of them is up.
  

Greta on Father's Day

• Noah is developing his saucy side. He can say, "No! I climb on the counter!" so loudly that the neighbors stop to listen.
• He has started talking about the things he did yesterday. I'm not sure if this means he has just recently learned the word "yesterday" or he's newly able to think in the past tense. Experimentation to follow.
• He puked for the first time today, at daycare. The nanny search continues.

Noah "Yesterday" (June 2007)

Just Like On HGTV

Lindsey and Kesava hooked us up with this excellent craft project: Pinecone Peanut Butter Birdfeeders.

I'll be honest, Lindsey, Noah only got to do two. I finished the rest and hung them up during his nap. There is peanut butter and birdseed all over the lawn. Greta has become one with the ball of hemp twine.

All that's left is to sit back and await the flurry of gorgeous song birds to our deck.

Love and Marriage

Nearly four full days with no kids. Horrifying. But fully necessary, right?

I'm a big enough person to admit that you were right, Kevin, I was wrong. I'm glad we didn't take the kids. We needed some time. I had fun without them. I slept so, so late. It was glorious.

There were even moments that I spent not thinking about them. Like, for example, those spent yelling (slurring?) to Nick that he should get married every weekend.

Also, notoriously, those in the Taco Bell drive through, listening to an amazingly coherent Ryan place his order: Chili cheese burrito. Two hard shell tacos, no lettuce. Fire sauce. Not bad for a guy who was moments away from letting us all know that he was going to puke. How could I forget?

We came home with almost no ability to communicate. I could barely manage single-word answers to simple questions like, How was the drive? How was the wedding? How did the kids do? How did Grandma manage? Nebraska was breathtaking, as always. Super, super fun. Missed us almost not at all. Just fine, I think.

Spluttering

As a former member of the swim team, it's a little embarrassing how few hours of pool time my kid has logged in his two years. Apparently the chlorine is bad for him anyway.

No worries, though. The boy who takes extensive coaching to lie back in the bathtub to have his hair washed has absolutely no fear of water outside the bathroom. Not even a little healthy fear. I pulled him up out of the lake by an arm four times yesterday. He had the look of full on terror every time. Twenty-seven seconds later, he was halfway up the beach again, preparing for his next run to the just-a-little-too-deep end.

He has finally taken to sandals, but evidently is not allowed to wear them to daycare. Grandma took our scolding for that one.

He's still not down with swim trunks, though. I'm not pushing it. He just needs a bit more sunscreen.

Mother, Father, Daughter, Son

The day before Father's Day is supposed to be about radio comedy and a picnic of far too many delicious foods and drinks. This year, PHC opted for a pre-Father's Day show in Michigan over Ravinia. We took our splendorous picnic to Sheboygan instead.

Catch you next year, Garrison?

Speed Racer's Retirement

I had the most excellent tire swing when I was a kid. Someday I hope to at least have a tree big enough for a tire swing for these kids. Til then, there's Grandma & Grandpa's.

Whirl

And just like that, the summer solstice has passed.

Please Leave A Message

Morning Person

The blog has taken a backseat in recent weeks. We have been traveling fools and have far too many cute pictures to choose just a few for posting here.

Will return soon.

Dad Copycat

Aunt Shelley, if you're out there, you"ll never guess where I found Noah this morning. He promised not to wake her.

Daughters Are Delightful

It seemed like it took Noah forever to get the Mmm sound just right. I thought it was so unfair of fate to make Mom such a hard word to say. Greta still mastered Da-da-da first (she's really into The Police), but she now knows exactly what to say to answer the question, Will this girl sit down and play quietly by herself for a few minutes so I can get one stupid thing done around here today?

MomMomMom
Uploaded by houseofhanson

(insert squeal of delight here).

Maybe this is what that lady meant about eight months being the ultimate in adorable.

Cuter Than a Box Full of Buttons

Grandma Rose is so excited to see the kids next weekend that I fear they may be in danger of being gobbled up the moment we arrive. Hope this tides her over in the meantime.

Little girl napping. Wearing a sundress. I love sundresses.

Tiptoeing In During Naptime

Little boy singing off key. He's quite pleased with himself. You may not be impressed, but his grandparents will be.

Acoustic Twinkle
Uploaded by houseofhanson

Where Are My Shoes?

Screw you, last fifteen pounds of pregnancy weight. Size Y is just as good as size X. If I have to work out, I'll consider it, but there are some things I refuse to surrender.*

It was a bad parenting day today. Let Noah watch far too much TV and didn't provide nearly enough new discoveries for Greta. My better half sneakily rearranged the furniture while I was at work on Monday, and I spent today obsessing about completing the job. When I say rearranged the furniture, I mean that I came home on Tuesday morning with a new bedroom and was unable to find the bookcase. Someone told me once that frequent rearranging of furniture is a sign of depression. I hope all the heavy lifting was therapeutic.

Another thing that another person once told me is that babies reach their peak cuteness at eight months. I clearly remember standing in line at the Como Zoo cafeteria with six-month-old Noah Bjorned to my chest, and the woman who told me that. I couldn't wait to see the extreme of my baby's attractiveness in the coming months.

Greta turns eight months old tomorrow. It's all downhill from there, baby.

*Except during pregnancy, of course. And even then, the chocolate stays.

Landfill Relief

I figured out how to get the camera phone pictures off the phone. You knew I could do it.

Here You Go, Mommy

Nothing says I love you like a micro-bouquet of dead dandelions. Seriously.

Other cute things Noah has been caught doing in recent weeks:
1. Nose picking. Appropriately, in the car. Where do you pick your nose?
2. Cheesing it up for total strangers. He especially likes to say Bye and wave in a very insincere, Minnesota nice way.
3. Rejecting sandals. He does not believe toes should be free. He might wear his old brown shoes all summer. Unless they disappear.
4. Peeing, sans diaper. I won't say any more in case this doesn't last...
5. Picking up rocks. Throwing them into the river. Repeat. Tirelessly.

Kinnickinnickinnickinnickinnick

Muffet Tuffet

Several moments of sheer blind panic in the life of a mom, as told in the form of a modified nursery rhyme (that does not rhyme):

Little Miss Greta
Sat in the sandbox
Eating fistfuls of dirt

Along came an ENORMOUS, HAIRY, SCARY spider
And sat down on her shoulder
And frightened Miss Greta not at all

Her mom completely lost her mind
And tried to whack the spider
With a broom
Unsuccessfully
Miss Greta got whacked instead,
In the head

As a direct consequence, Noah can now be heard from all rooms of the house, shouting at the top of his lungs, "OH, MY GOD!" repeatedly. I never thought I was afraid of bugs. It would appear that I am not unafraid of spiders.