Goodbye twenties hello minivan,
Look out thirties I’m becoming my old man,
The keys are in my pocket,
I got the title in my hand
Goodbye twenties Hello minivan.
-Sterling Waters

Although I’m still technically only 28, the news we were going to soon be a family of 4 + one stupidly large dog was the final straw towards minvandom. While it was quite inconvenient and generally a huge pain in the ass to own only one car-seat compatible vehicle with one baby, it’s virtually impossible with two. Unless, of course, I plan to take both kids with me every single place I go for the next 10 years or so. NO THANK YOU. So down to the dealership we went to look at reasonable, grown up options, which ended up being…not so bad.

Still, someone please tell me how I’m supposed to give this up without being heartbroken:

Oh hai guise. Why yes I do have eight cylinders and a leather interior, thanks for noticing.

DO YOU SEE THAT BUMPERSTICKER???? Best gift ever from my friend E.W. She had it made special just for me, since I used to shout "take your top off!!!!" at convertible drivers. I'm classy like that.

The Mustang was my 23rd birthday present to myself from my wonderful husband and the car I dreamed of owning since I was 15. It was like going from being the timpani player in the marching band to head cheerleader overnight, with a really great tan and cool sunglasses thrown in. I swear it even made me look thinner.

The truth is I haven’t driven “my” car in more than a year, besides once or twice to the grocery store, and even then all I could think about was how inconvenient it was for buying giant boxes of diapers and value sized Swiffer refills. E drives it to work while I drive “his” Jeep, a car I like but never loved. I needed something new.

E had dreams of crew-cab trucks and full-loaded sedans when we first headed out car shopping. Navigation systems! Tow packages! Two-tone leather (which was one of the absolute UGLIEST things I had ever seen but he seemed to love)! But all it took was 30 seconds in a minivan – Fourteen cup holders! Room for the dog! Surprisingly good gas mileage! Extended warranty! – to realize it was practically inescapable. So it’s not glamorous or sexy or sporty. I’ll never pull up to a light and have the guy next to me try to race. I don’t even think anyone’s going to mistake me for the “hot babysitter”, despite what the minivan manufacturers might claim in their commercials.

But, dudes, I love my minivan.

2008 Dodge Grand Caravan - ironicly, almost the exact car I learned to drive in. Just 19 years newer.

Both side doors and the tailgate open at the touch of a button - lots of buttons in fact. On the key fob, near the rearview mirror, or right inside the doors. I never have to slam anything ever again. American car companies really GET my epic level of laziness.

Look at that storage! That giant stroller used to take up the entire back of the Jeep. I can fit a double stroller in there no problem. Or a dead body. Just sayin'.

DO YOU SEE THAT SPACE? And not only do all the seats fold down, they totally fold down into the floor so the whole back is flat and open. E fit a full sized chest freezer in the back and still had room for the car seat. No more struggle to make the groceries fit.

I was actually sitting in the car for the test drive when I said "The only thing I hate about minivans is that the back windows don't go down so on long car trips you feel like you're trapped in a tube." AND THEN THE WINDOWS WENT DOWN. SOLD.

I’m actually a little sorry now for people who don’t have minivans. Suckers.

I’m not sure if all kids do stuff that totally puzzles their parents or if mine is just special, but sometimes I think my baby is the strangest baby ever born.

– Baby Evan likes to sit on people. And things. And animals. But mostly people. It started with sitting in our bookcase but now he just loves sitting in general. He will walk up to a total stranger, turn around and back up until his legs hit them and them plop right down. Sunday night he sat on E’s face twice. He also sits on other babies, which could be a problem when we have a tiny one laying around.

Lounging out on the dog

– Baby Evan’s new favorite thing is my eyelashes. He will pet each eye veeeeery veeeery gently for as long as I will let him while we’re nursing, and every once in a while during the day he comes over and pats them just to make sure they’re still there. I don’t know if he likes the way they feel or if he’s just fascinated by mascara or what, but he can’t get enough eyelashes. Adorable quirk or future makeup artist?

– Although we’re starting to see some improvement, Baby Evan is still only vaguely interested in food. AND YET anything that is not food gets eaten immediately. Dirt. Plastic. Yarn. DEAD LADYBUGS. My friend Sarah’s daughter has appointed herself the mulch police at the playground since “Baby Eban eatin’ mulch again! Baby Eban not make wise choices”. How is it possible that a kid who literally spits out ice cream and bacon will eat his body weight in mulch in five minutes?

– Baby Evan is too young to start turning everything into a gun but he’s already all about swords. Spatulas are swords. Brooms are swords. Rectangular shaped blocks are swords. EVERYTHING IS A SWORD AND EVERYTHING ELSE MUST BE DEFEATED WITH THOSE SWORDS. It’s kind of funny when he pokes the cat. It’s not so funny when he smacks me in the eye while I’m trying to change his diaper. It also makes outdoor playdates quite a challenge.

EVIL TREE! I SHALL BANISH YE!

– OK, this is definitely the weirdest thing. I’m actually sort of hesitant to even post it in case 20 years from now he stumbles across this post while Googling “why do I have this strange fetish?” at the request of his therapist. Baby Evan is in love with my feet. I think he likes feet in general (starting with his own) but mine, well, mine he looooooves. Just wiggling my toes can make him laugh hysterically (insert correct link to the video I posted of the baby laughing at my feet here, if I could remember when the hell I took so I could find it again). Sometimes he kisses them. Sometimes he bites them, but I actually manages to teach him the meaning of “gentle” by shouting when he bit me too hard. He prefers it when I don’t wear shoes but will settle for gnawing on my sneakers if I refuse to take them off. I’m hoping he outgrows it. Soon.

Please tell me your kid is weird too.

Ten points to the first person to identify the movie quote!

We finally got the warm, sunny weather I was so tired of hearing about from my Mid-Western friends so now I’ll bore you by talking about it to. Spring in Connecticut doesn’t so much bloom as EXPLODE. One day there are a few crocuses in the garden and tiny buds on all the trees and then WHAM flowers and leaves everywhere. It’s fantastic. I have to physically restrain myself from running out to my local garden center and spending hundreds of dollars on plants and seedlings I have no idea how to grow. My thumb is best described as a light yellow – I don’t kill every plant I come in contact with but only the strong survive.

Baby Evan and I took advantage of the weather yesterday by lounging on our porch all afternoon, doing out best redneck country folk impressions. I opened up the house, blocked off the stairs and let him have the run of the place.

My mom gave him the overalls for his birthday. Let it be known she did include a shirt at the time.

But Baby Evan and I agree, shirts are for suckers.

Downward Dog

They both watched the neighborhood kids walk home from school with rapt attention. The thought that one day Brutus might be watching out the front door for Baby Evan to get home made me teary.

P.S. One of the comments I get about my blog a lot is “How do you find time to write every day!?” The answer is of course, I neglect my child. Just kidding. But I do neglect a lot of housework, laundry and pretty much all my other interests until I’ve written my post for the day. It is, however, IMENSELY helpful that Baby Evan can be fairly easily entertained, either with toys (to throw on the floor), food (to throw on the floor) or as seen below, my toes.

Baby Evan came out of his bout with the flu RAVENOUSLY HUNGRY and unable to find enough dog hair on the floor to solve this problem. So now it’s my problem. Or more specifically, my boobs’ problem (you don’t even want to know how long I spent on that apostrophe – and I’m still not even sure it’s right). Unfortunately, my boobs are still attached to my chest. I never would have thought of that as unfortunate before I had a kid but my, how the world has changed.

Despite the time and money I invested in the make-my-own-baby-food-plan the baby refuses to play along and actually eat any of it. I’ve mentioned before (and before and before ) how uninterested he is in solids, but I always figured the time would come when he was ready. I figured the time would come at 7 months, and at 8 months, and at 9 months…and now at almost 10 months I’m done figuring. I give up on baby food. That’s right folks, I am not feeding my baby ANY MORE BABY FOOD.

Before you call Child Protective Services, let me explain my NEW plan. It’s NEW, in all caps, so you know it must be good. Well, not new like just invented. Just NEW to Baby Evan and his tired, sore, milk-less mother.

NEW PLAN: Baby-Led Weaning. (For the record, not really weaning – there’s no reduction of milk/formula. I think the creator is British or something and you know how they are with their crazy baby words like “cot” and “push chair”.)

I don’t remember where I first heard about BLW but now I’ve heard of it everywhere. On the interwebs, in my parenting magazines, on the interwebs, from moms I know and trust, on the interwebs. So I finally checked it out and discovered…we already do it. Basically, Baby-Led Weaning is just giving babies baby-sized portions of adult foods. So if you’re having pasta for dinner, you give the baby some pasta. If you’re having tacos for dinner you give the baby avocado and tortillas. If you’re having cereal for dinner you give the baby a banana. Not mushed and pureed and fed with a spoon, just cut up so baby can feed himself (Or not even cut up – Google it for the scientific, no jokes details and safety info on choking and stuff). I started doing it because I was tired of putting a ton a work into preparing baby food just to dump it all down the drain when Baby Evan really just wanted what was on my plate. So basically, laziness. But it turns out I’m not the only lazy mom out there, so it’s LEGITIMATE laziness.

So far the BLW has gone a lot better than the pureed baby food but I still don’t think the baby is actually EATING. My suspicions are based on a) the fact he nursed every half hour all day yesterday and b) THIS:

Oh hey, I just discovered gravity and it's super fun!

That mess on the floor is dinner: an entire banana and 3/4 of an avocado. It landed exactly where lunch (half a mango) did a few hours earlier. My dog is now eating better quality, more nutrient rich food than most human beings. Oh well, I’ll keep trying.

So besides E and Baby Evan and I, three other family members live in our house.

First is the oft-photographed Brutus, the world’s most patient dog. E and I adopted him in Ohio in December 2006. He’s part lab, part German Shepperd, part mutt. His favorite activities include sitting on furniture, shedding, eating baby spit up, belly rubs, and tricking unsuspecting house guests into taking him for walks.

Patient dog is patient with Babyzilla

I’ve also posted pictures of Blushes, my cat since college. I adopted her in October of 2002. Blushes was supposed to be named Lady Katrina Von Mousington, but the ladies at the animal shelter in South Carolina asked me to keep they name they had given her. Her favorite activities include torturing the dog, sneaking into laps, shedding, throwing up in unfortunate places, “escaping” from the house only to discover outside is too cold and scary, eating people food and letting the baby lie on her.

Babyzilla stalks another unsuspecting victim

And finally, meet Rabbit (named as such because she’s jumpy). E and I thought Blushes would be happier with a friend (she originally had a brother but he belonged to my ex). We adopted Rabbit in 2004 while living in a tiny apartment in Virginia Beach. We thought she loved petting and cuddles but it turns out she was just so PARALYZED WITH FEAR she couldn’t run away. In reality, she’s evil. Possibly possessed. And she hates E with the burning fire of a thousand super novas. Since we brought the baby home she barely ventures downstairs any more and spends 99% of her time sleeping on the guest bed. Her favorite activities include peeing on E’s pillow, catching and torturing mice by chewing off their feet, eating rubber bands, drinking from the toilet, sleeping, shedding and plotting our deaths.

Welcome to your DOOM.

So if you ever come to the house, please excuse the pet hair.