Thanksgiving Weekend

Thanksgiving weekend is one of my most favourite times of the year. First of all, I met my darling Mr. Level-Headed twenty-three Thanksgivings ago. We were young and foolish, and we fell madly in love like only two teenagers can, but I am so happy that we did. We have made a wonderful life together, and we have shared some pretty amazing, hilarious, and downright crazy adventures together. Not to mention, we have made four of the most interesting and adorable people the world has even seen together. Yes, you should all thank us for that one! But, seriously, he has seen me at my lowest, my weakest and my ugliest, and he still sticks around. He loves me unconditionally, and he always manages to put a smile on my face. He's my Mr. Level-Headed and of all the things I have to be thankful for in my life, he is definitely number one. Happy Anniversary, Mr. Level-Headed!

The second reason why I love Thanksgiving weekend is that it ushers in the return of comfort food like mash potatoes, cranberries, turkey, stuffing, and pies . . . mmmmmm! Need I say more?

And last but not least, I love Thanksgiving weekend because the wee Websters and I take an afternoon off and go to our local apple orchard to pick apples. Sure, I love fresh apples, but the real reason I love apple picking is for the pictures . . . er, I mean the memories . . . tee hee! This was Leif's first year of apple picking, which made this year extra special.

I can't get enough of this time of year!

Where Art Thou, Bob?

My attempt at using the blog as Leif's baby book is failing miserably, and so excuse me for a moment while I list a few of his milestones:

• you are our earliest walker! That's right you started taking steps at nine months. The most we have counted you taking in one stretch is seven . . . so far.
•  in the month of August you had your fist hornet sting and you went to your first drive-in movie theatre, which was kind of neat because it was a first for both of your brothers too AND your sister still has not gone.
• you love to climb stairs.
• Grampy Skov-Nielsen taught you how to use  your hand as a gun, and let's just say, you picked up on that skill very quickly. You now spend your days shooting everything you pass, complete with sound effects. You are such a boy!
• you try to bark like the dog when we are outside
• you love to eat sand, and pretty much anything else we will feed you - pizza (no cheese), hummus, brocolli, hamburgers, pancakes, ham sandwiches, rice, peas, apples, etc. No baby food for you.
• at your doctor's appointment in August, you weighed a whomping 17lbs. 4oz, and you were 28" long. (Sorry, baby, but you are Webster through and through - small, but mighty!)
• your newest word is baaaa for ball, which is really not a big surprise because you love balls, and your favourite game is rolling a ball back and forth with somebody.
• I also swear you say the word book, but that could have something to do with your current fascination with the "B" sound,

which is great lead in to today's post. . . . .

Lately your favourite word is Bob. You call out for Bob as soon as your eyes open, when we are playing in the backyard, when we are driving in the car, and when you are standing at, or in, the dishwasher. We have no idea who Bob is, but you are frantically searching for him.We don't even know if you know who Bob is, but we are all eagerly awaiting for that day you finally find him because we are quite curious to find out what you need to tell him.

Recently, we visited Halifax because Zoe had an appointment at the IWK, and you were even calling out for Bob in a local park there. Unfortunately, Bob is not in Halifax either, but you did capture the attention of many people passing by, and you very much enjoyed entertaining them.

Bob!

Where is Bob?

Bob!

This is so very disappointing.

I have to say, Leif, you sure make my days much more interesting. I love you, baby.

Oh, and if you know Bob, could you please tell him that Leif Webster has an urgent message to pass along.

. . .  tee hee!

Morning Mayhem

*please note that this post goes through periods of where there are no capital letters used due to the fact that I had a nursing infant attached to me and could only use one hand . . . carry on.

i woke up late this morning, and that pretty much guarantees that our morning will be crumby. i woke up avery and he hopped into the shower. then i went downstairs and harassed elliot until he dragged his lifeless body out of bed. 

come on, bud. you can do this! we are late and you need to start moving.

I rushed into the storage room to grab two cans of Alpha-getti for the boys' lunch (nothing but the best for my munchkins) and then I bolted back upstairs to get breakfast made, lunches packed and two boys dressed and ready for the day. like every other morning this week, though, i had to wade through the previous night's supper dishes in order to even find a space big enough to spread their lunch boxes out. At this point, I decided to scrap the pancakes I had intended to make, according to the lovely menu plan I had so painstakingly created on the weekend, and declared breakfast to be cereal . . . again. BUT, then I remembered that Avery's goat's milk was all gone, and since he gets terrible pains from cow's milk and he does not like rice milk on his cereal, pancakes were back on the menu. ugh!

come on boys! you are going to be late!

So, as the Alpha-getti was cooking and I was throwing in crackers, apples, clementines,and brownies into their lunch boxes, I was also scrambling to wash out the mixing bowl and gather the pancake ingredients.

do you boys have your soccer stuff packed for practice today? Elliot, get your socks and sneakers on.

mom, the baby pooped.

i will change him after.

mom, where are my cleats?

at the back door.

mom, I have no clean socks.

check the laundry pile in the living room.

mom, did you sign my homework folder?

yes.

mom. the baby is in the dishwasher.

just remove the knives.

Text: are you guys ready for prayer

(we've been saying our daily morning prayer via speaker phone with Derrick just before he goes into work)

give me two minutes. 

At 7:35 (five minutes before the boys leave for the bus) i placed pancakes in front of them and we all gathered around to say the world's quickest prayer.then i dashed outside in my jammies to grab their soccer socks that had been left on the clothes line. i finished packing their lunches, closed up their book bags and sent the boys running up the driveway to catch the bus that was seconds away from our house. 

i love you!

we know!

Glowing with pride over my ultimate, super mama skills for getting the boys out the door washed, fed, and watered just in time to catch the bus yet again, I felt pretty invincible.

Take that Thursday morning! You are no match for me. Now, I am off to tackle a dirty diaper and feed my baby. Leif!

And there he was elbow deep in the bin of flour I had left opened on the floor . . .

ugh! foiled again.

Every super hero has one villain that brings them to their knees daily, and mine happens to be an 18lbs, blonde, blue-eyed baby with a penchant for stirring up shenanigans.

At least he keeps me humble.