If You Have The Brain God Gave Vito

...then you'll be a Boston Celtics fan.
The start of NBA season (tomorrow) seems like an appropriate time for Drew and Owen to hear the "What Every Boy Needs to Know to Be a Man" speech. So this afternoon David stood in front of the boys who, secure in their high chairs, had no choice but to pay attention (well, they couldn't crawl away in any case). He introduced himself as "Dad" or "Dadadadada." Then he introduced me: "This is my apprentice. You may call her Mom or Mamamamama. Or just say, 'Waaaaa!' As you can see by her shirt, she is a Celtics fan. I am a Celtics fan. As members of this family, you will also be Celtics fans."
I had to interrupt at this point and remind him that at one point he said parents shouldn't choose which sports teams their kids like. It should be up to the kids. So he told Drew and Owen, "When you are old enough, you may choose what your favorite team is. [This is where the title comes in] But if you have the brain God gave Vito, you'll be a Celtics fan."
The lecture lasted longer than this; I'm not sure what else was said, as I excused myself to go put my shoes on. As apprentice, I have the prerogative to leave the lecture early and take care of other more important matters. But I'm sure it was a good speech, and I was glad to witness a bonding moment between parent and children.
I'm also glad basketball players got some longer shorts.

Eat Like a Bird

...And by that, I mean eat your body weight in food every day.
We went to the Doc yesterday, for Drew & Owen's one-year check up. Drew weighs 19 lbs, 11 oz. Owen weighs 18 lbs, 2 oz. They are both about 28.5" tall. How can they not weigh more than this?? Here is a sample of what a meal for the boys might include: ~omlette with cheese (1 1/2 eggs) ~one rather large pancake (say, 7" diameter) ~6 oz whole milk ~Some strawberry syrup from Grandpa's french toast ~[for Drew] 1 Tbsp. butter grabbed straight off the pancake and shoved into the mouth before anyone can stop him. Daily snacks include: ~chips ~crackers ~peaches ~food from Vito's dish. And do you see those pictures of them eating all that cake? About an hour prior to the cake, they each polished off their very own Whopper Jr. from Burger King.
The thing that weirds me out is that I've seen kids twice their size eat one bite of that big pancake, and say, "I'm full." So the lack of weight gain is plaguing me. I guess part of it could be that they inherited their dad's ultra-high metabolism. Also, my kids are never stationary unless they're sleeping, and even then, Owen isn't really motionless; he tosses and turns all over the place (another trait he inherited from his dad). But all-in-all, my kids are healthy and happy. And I'm glad they love food so much (something inherited from me).

Some Birthday Pictures

Owen thinks chocolate frosting is

lots of fun. How right he is.

This was probably the boys' favorite

part of the whole birthday experience.

Drew is in total sweet, chocolate bliss.

No cake, no ice cream. Happy Birthday.

Actually, there was cake. And ice cream. Lots and lots of it. You only turn 1 once! Why not go all out? In hind sight, which is always 20/20, I'm really glad I didn't shell out big bucks for decorations and party favors and all that garbage. Probably not as glad as David is, since he is the one who actually pays for everything around here... We put up 5 balloons and 4 feet of crepe paper (that classy stuff) and it was just about perfect. Because really, you only go to a one-year-old's party because you know there will be cake. There. I said it.
It was a great party; only one tantrum (it was Drew). The boys actually played with their presents and not just the wrapping paper. They got some good stuff, too (thanks to Aunt Ace for books and clothes, and to Aunt Jen for shirts).
On an unrelated note, since I'm handing out thanks: Shout-out to Josh for letting me know I misspelled the word "often" in my blog description. I guess no one else noticed, or in a certain husband's case, wanted to "hurt my feelings." I'll make sure to run spell check from now on, but please, if you notice something, let me know. As a former English major, spelling and grammatical errors bug me to no end. Unles their, on purrpos?

Son Of A [you-know-what]

A little background: I went to Petco some time ago to see if they had anything for our dog's *beastly* breath. The nice gentleman on duty squatted down to eye-level with Vito and said, "Let's take a look." He grabbed Vito's snout, pried back the little doggie lips, only to be greeted with what was probably the worst stench he'd ever smelled in all his days as a Petco employee. He reeled backward in horror and asked me, "Does this dog eat his own feces?" Apalled by his query, of course I replied, "No!"
I'm not so sure my declaration was correct. We came home from costume hunting tonight to find a bathroom littered with dirty daipers (the brown kind) and a really hyper/suspicious-looking Vito. We try to keep the bathroom doors closed, but sometimes (like tonight) we forget. So if there is anyone not completely grossed out and still reading, my question is this: would it be wrong to lace the garbage with something (not lethal or hurtful--we still want to keep the dog) to maybe deter him from further mutilating our garbage?

On The Wagon At Last!

It seems as though everyone who's everyone has a blog now, so I thought I'd give it a go. It will have to double as a journal for me too, since actually writing things on paper is way too time consuming. And hey. If I want to save something for "posterity," CTRL+P is all it takes. As my friend Kip would say, "I love technology."