the death of a garlic press and other tragedies

It has been a sad day here at chez scoville. At approximately 9:47 a.m, our garlic press pressed it's last clove...just before splitting in two. Our garlic presses have an average life span of approximately 3.5 years. It will be sorely missed, but soon replaced. A garlic press is a need, not a want at our house.

Don't feel sorry for me...yet. My day gets worse. The loss of our garlic press was put into perspective by another loss. I lost a diaper battle with Max this morning. I caught him running around with his diaper off several times this morning. Each time I reattached it I told him he could have a treat if he kept in on. Apparently he likes taking off his diaper more than he likes treats.

Later Max whacked the baby in the head with a toy bowling pin. I rushed him to his room for time-out. I came back to get him after one minute and I could hear him crying. This was unusual behavior so I surveyed the situation to determine the cause. The culprit: poop. Poop on the floor. Poop on the walls. Poop on the toys. Poop in his hair. Poop in his eyes. Poop in his mouth...poop everywhere. I had no idea this could happen. No idea. I have no idea how it could all happen in one minute, and I have no idea how to stop it from happening again.

Usually I can laugh at our daily drama. Not today. I cried. I suppose I shouldn't have made fun of J-P for crying yesterday. I couldn't stop thinking about karma as I reported our poop problems through sobs on the phone, only to hear him laughing on the other end of the line. "There is nothing funny about poop", I said as I hung up the phone.

Sunday at Nona's

I've decided to take pictures of Max and Ian every Sunday. They are both growing way too fast and I don't want to miss anything. Sunday pictures will safeguard my memory.
We had a very enjoyable time in California. Max loved ransacking Nona's house. He did not, however, love her cat (or her turtles). He shed many tears and spent most of the weekend yelling "cat! cat! cat!" with panic in his eyes. Luckily the cat was equally as frightened and spent all her time hiding under a bed.
Max's new verbal abilities are aiding his already strong independence. Sunday he INSISTED on wearing this tie to church with this shirt. I was so happy that he was willing to wear clothes that it was no sweat off my back. At least the colors kind of go together. Lately he is not a fan of clothes or diapers. Yesterday I walked in to get him after his nap and he was naked, standing in a puddle in his crib. When he saw the look on my face, he held up his diaper and innocently asked, "what's that?"
Also worth mentioning: Sunday J-P cried for the second time since we've been married. The reason this is worth mentioning is because it was during a MOVIE (and it was not just a tear, but full-on crying I might add). Here is the background--for those who don't know me, I always cry during movies. If a movie can't activate my tear glands, it must be really bad. I sob, weep, choke, hyperventilate, etc...only during really good movies, and mainly just when I am pregnant. When I display aforementioned emotions during a movie, J-P always laughs. Hard. He never lets it go, and teases me to the end of my rope. Sunday it was my turn to laugh at him, and it was oh-so-satisfying payback.

Progress

Last summer Max was petrified of the pool. His pool panic was so intense that it made swimming impossible. We couldn't even put our toes in because Max's screams were so loud that they violated the neighborhood noise ordinances. This summer we are making progess. Max is willing to sit on the edge and put his feet in. Here he is enjoying some poolside fun with his dad.

Patience

I am normally a very patient person (one of my few talents). This is a very helpful skill when you live with an almost two-year-old. Lately my patience has been tried and tested by our little maximiliano, and it is waning. He is sucking out every last drop, and I'm not sure what to do next.

When I went to brush my teeth this morning, the toothpaste was gone. I found it under some rocks in the backyard. When I went to put on my running shoes, they were nowhere to be found. I found them outside in the sandbox. When I went to eat lunch, the silverware was missing. I found some in our bedroom, some in the garden. My cell phone goes missing on a regular basis and can usually be found in the toy box, a bathroom drawer, or in the trunk of a toy car.

Today while I was nursing the baby (the only time he can get away with these shenanigans), he ran outside and ripped out my flowers. Again. I carefully replanted them and soaked the pot in water. I turned my back for two seconds to water the garden and he did it AGAIN. This time the damage was irreparable. I was fuming and he was guffawing. Pretty typical day here at chezscoville.

Time-out is so not working. Any suggestions?

p.s. this is just the cliff notes version of our day

feminist?

I'll never forget the first Saturday after we were married. We woke up, and I started cleaning the entire house... because that's what you do on Saturday. Or so I thought.

J-P had very different Saturday plans. He sat on the couch and read while I cleaned. I kept thinking that at any second he would jump up and help me. He never did. After several hours, the house was clean. He was still reading. I was so mad that fumes were escaping through the pores of my skin. I grabbed my purse and said (with as much drama as I could muster) "I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back for a long time."

When I returned from a very therapeutic shopping trip, we had a long talk. We made a chore list. After much deliberation, we decided it was only fair to divide the household labors. We were both working full-time, and I was working way more than he was. I was also sitting in L.A. traffic for hours a day and he was working out of the comfort of a home office.

Three years later, Saturdays are still a struggle. I am the big-bad-wolf that demands help. I write "honey-do" lists. I "86" his basketball plans if I know I can't finish everything by myself. In short, I am a bad wife.

Today I read this article: Chores for two: Why men don't pitch in

It made me feel so much better to know I'm not the only demanding wife out there. Lately, I've been feeling the guilt.

Disclaimer: I do not write this to demean or disparage my husband in any way. He is an amazing husband, here's the proof: He wakes up with our children every morning and let's me sleep in until at least 7:00. That's huge when your children wake up at 5:00 a.m. EVERYDAY. He also changes all of Max's poopy diapers (if he is home), and NEVER complains if the house is a mess or dinner doesn't get made. He knows what it's like to be in my shoes, and he also knows Max's ability to morph into the tazmanian devil. Really, he's the best there is.

Sunday Photo Shoot

You can see my arm moving out of the picture...not fast enough Impossible to get both of them to cooperate at he same time.
Especially when Max was overdue for a nap. This little guy is the sweetest baby ever. It's fun to have a snuggle bug.
Max was always way too busy to snuggle.

Projects

I have a very short attention span when it comes to projects. Our house is full of unfinished projects. I get bored with a project, put it on hold, and then start a new one. My goal is to finish at least one project per week.

This week I crossed two projects off my to-do list. I finished this quilt...

And I organized my spice cupboard. I got the labels at Cost Plus--no more sniffing spices to figure out what they are. For the record, inhaling cloves is quite painful. Don't try it.

Next on my to-do list: paint the kitchen cabinets...

hiking

We went hiking today at the Lost Dutchman state park by our house. It was beautiful. I love the desert. The kids were good sports...most of the time.
While hiking, we taught Max about Arizona flora. My dad always used to teach us the names of all the plants and animals on our outdoor excursions in the pacific northwest.
Max's favorite plant was the ocotillo. After showing him one, he screamed "Oc-tee-ooo!!!" for the rest of the hike. Luckily for me he was on J-P's back, not mine.

More pictures here

While we hiked, my parents went to a tulip festival in WA-- pictures here

milestones and statistics

I took Ian to his four month appointment a couple weeks ago. He weighed in at 16 lbs 1 oz (a whole 4 lbs lighter than Max was at this age), and measured 25 3/4 inches. I figured that I should record it here, as I still haven't gotten around to buying him a baby book. I can't imagine how much of a slacker I'll be next time around.


Ian is the best little brother ever. It doesn't matter how many times Max whacks at him, bites him, or throws toys at him--Ian still adores him. As for Max's milestones, the books say that by 21 months he should be able to stack at least four cubes. I walked into the kitchen yesterday and saw this.

He can stack six cans. Does that count?

our dinner last night

I love artichokes. They are beautiful. They are also the ultimate comfort food. I remember eating them a lot as a child. We dipped them in this special white artichoke sauce. Little did I know it was just plain mayonnaise. Good thing I didn't know that back then, I wouldn't have tried it. I refused to eat mayonnaise as a child, especially if my mom made it from scratch.

We ate artichokes last night. While looking for dipping sauce recipes, I stumbled onto some interesting info. A large artichoke contains a mere 25 calories. I'll have to remember that in case I ever decide to go on a diet.

How to cook and eat an artichoke

future food critic?

Max has a very sophisticated palate. He loves garlic, green and kalamata olives, avocados, onions, capers, basil, polenta, spicy hummus, and so forth. This week we wandered into one of the new Fresh and Easy grocery stores to see if they had anything Max might fancy. We picked up a jar of puttanesca sauce to have on (rice) pasta for lunch. I thought it would be a hit.

Normally I love a good puttanesca. This jar, however, had WAY too many anchovies. I tried my best to hide the disgust on my face so as not to discourage Max from eating it. I looked over and expected him to spit out his first bite. Instead, it was love at first bite. He ate like a ravenous bird eats worms after a rain storm. After he finished his bowl (and licked the sauce off the bottom), I handed him mine...glad not to waste it. He then politely polished off every piece of pasta that had fallen on the floor before urgently asking for MORE!

baby carriers and cheap sunglasses

I am a very competitive hiker. I have to be the first one to the top. J-P never beats me, even if he tries. I haven't been hiking lately. Mainly because I've been pregnant for the last two years. Also because it is H-O-T, hot in Phoenix. Right now is the perfect time to go. The weather is great and I'm not pregnant. I know you were wondering. Just one problem: two heavy children. We have a hiking backpack to put Max in (thank you REI dividend), but Ian is just too heavy for the bjorn. To solve this problem I splurged and bought the ergo carrier, which I love. The purchase, however, did not solve my problem. Ian HATES it. He views it as a form of torture and cries his little eyes out, thus spoiling my hiking plans. Yesterday we had a little chat, Ian and I. I explained that hiking is fun, but not when one is screaming. I put him in the carrier and walked up and down the street in front of our house until he stopped crying and fell asleep. I will repeat this drill everyday until he is tear-free in the ergo. Then we will all go hiking.


p.s. Please ignore the hideous sunglasses...at the rate I go through sunglasses I have to purchase whatever $5 pair they are selling at Forever 21. It was either this pair or a nicole richiesque white pair that covered my entire face. I opted for the scary 70's look.