Oh man…Momma is such a girl.   Flowers have started coming out of the ground all over the hillsides at my house.   They weren’t there a month ago, and now they are.  Like peek-a-boo!  If you ask me, I think it’s weird.  But not as weird as Momma’s reaction.   I mean, we are talking about flowers…not cars, bouncy balls, mud or paint.  She tricks me every time by asking if I want to go outside.   Outside?!  Um…are bananas amazing???  YES!  Wahoo, hello dirt!   Wait, why is THAT thing out??  No…wait.  Too late, she is already lifting me into the backpack and strapping me to her back.  “Sorry kiddo, the hills are too steep for you to walk.  You get to hang out on my back.  Let’s go see what new flowers are popping today Nate!” she exclaims all peppy.  I’ll show her peppy.   One time is fine.  Ten times is too much.  I won’t tell you how many times we do this…mostly because I can’t count very high.   As if trekking around the steep hills trapped on her back wasn’t enough, she begins telling me names of the flowers. I think she just makes them up as she goes.

Milkmaids, Buttercups, Shooting Stars (that can’t be good), Hounds Tongue (ewe- gross), Indian Warrior, Blue Eyed Grass (umm…grass does NOT have eyes!),  Iris…Okay, stop. Now I KNOW she is making this up.  Iris is Gram’s dog, NOT a flower.  Sheesh.  Does she think I’ll fall for that?  What am I a baby?  I know things! 

Yet her giggle and carefree skipping from flower to flower are infectious and I find myself pointing out any colors that I see.   She snaps away with her camera from any and all angles and I give in to the joy she leaks.   I’m still not buying the names, but I’ll go along with her game, as long as nobody is around to see this.   Hounds Tongue…yea right.  I suppose there are cattails and lamb’s ears too?!    Pshaw.  Ooo, Ooo, Ooo…what’s that flower?? Er…I mean…did you see that truck?!

So Momma and I went on a field adventure the other day, but it ended weird…and we didn’t take any pictures.   Basically, we left the house, drove for a long enough time that I was sleepy, and parked.   I got put in my super cool backpack thingy, Momma grabbed the camera and we were off.   It didn’t take her long to find some way to embarrass me. We ended up standing on a bench in a park while she focused on something over a fence…not cool.  People were staring.  Then all of a sudden…

“LONG DISCLAIMER:  I have flirted with insomnia for about 20 years, but never really experienced sleep deprivation until this last year and half.   My baby boy is THE WORST sleeper ever.  Figures, I would get a child who sleeps worse than I do.   I could, and would very much like to, kick insomnia’s butt, if only Nate would let me sleep for more than two uninterrupted hours.  Seriously, it is that bad.   Well, this sleep deprivation is burning not just holes, but caverns, into my brain.   That’s my story anyway. 

Last week, Nate and I left the house ready for a field adventure to some smaller towns north of us.  The sun was bright and rejuvenating.  I was feeling recharged from the rays streaming in my window, the tunes playing on the radio, and my little boy smiling and dancing in the back seat.   It was going to be a great afternoon! I had even packed snacks for a picnic in case I found grass for Nate to run wild.  I got Prince Charming set up on my back, grabbed some water, our snack,  and my camera, ready to shoot.  In a matter of seconds, I found some great old cars I just knew I had capture, and beyond them a field of gorgeous mustard.   Point, zoom, focus…and…NOTHING.   That sinking feeling began as I lowered my camera.  Yep. Not only had I left the camera battery (both actually) charging at home, I had also neglected to put my CF card back in the camera. Wow.  After a snort, a chuckle and a dramatic head toss, I began laughing, and laughing.  I laughed so hard I started snorting some more.  I would venture a guess that my laughter had that crazy edge to it for any passerby to hear.   Nate giggled a little on my back, but it sounded more like he was trying to pacify me with his hesitant sounds.  ‘Oh Nate…THAT just happened!  Your Momma is losing it!!’  If I wanted my son to learn anything from this, it was NOT to take yourself too seriously…and to let me sleep!”

Paint. Paint. Paint.  I would paint all day if Momma would let me.  I have to say, paint ranks up there with mud as far as texture and smearing coolness.  Brushes are cool, but I prefer finger paints.   Although I don’t see why they can’t be body paint…using my belly and feet and nose is genius if you ask me.  Well, one day I saw Momma taking pictures of wet paint.  She took all kinds of them…and used paints to swirl on plates and trays.   She might not have asked me for help, but I could tell she needed it.  So what was I supposed to do?  I rose to the occasion!   While she was busy, I gracefully glided over to my art cupboard to get my paints.   I had a huge surprise for her!!

Fun with Finger Paints

She took her pictures, and I started painting.  I painted the floor.  I painted the cupboards. I painted my hair.  I painted my clothes just for good measure.  I’m twicky though…whenever she looked, I smiled and painted my paper.  Then I went back to work.  I painted the chairs.  I painted Wilson the giraffe and Shelldon the turtle.  I painted my Legos and some books.

I had just started on the wall when Momma discovered my surprise.   She gasped.  I beamed.  She opened her mouth.  Then shut it.  Then opened it again. I beamed some more.   Momma was so happy with her surprise that she couldn’t even talk!!  Win for Nate!    “Yay!”, I exclaimed.  “What?!” was all she could manage.  Man, she must have been happy because she kept grabbing her head and covering her mouth and saying, “what?!”…and her eyes were really big.  See!  She needs my help.  I did good!  Go me!

The market:  a perfectly fun weekly field trip.  I love food, and I love going to the market as much as the next kid…BUT I’m beginning to question Momma’s reasons for going.  I pretty much have the routine down…make a list, start by the fruits and veggies, and ziggy zag all the way through the store to bread.   Lately, we’ve been going not once…not twice…but three times in the week!  Three times people.  Believe it or not, I kind of get that concept.  Three might be too small when talking in numbers of cereal puffs or berries.  Three is too many when talking in numbers of weekly super market trips.

Somebody Stop Her!!!

Let me explain.  We aren’t going for our lists anymore.   And we definitely aren’t going for anything I like!   Sure, Momma throws the occasional orange or strawberry basket in the cart, but only to take pictures of them once we get home.   Lately we get eggplant (yuck), cauliflower (yuck), lettuce (meh), brussels sprout (I think everyone agrees: gross), persimmons (can you say chalk!), pepper thingies (too hot), things I can’t pronounce and things that frankly scare me (who IS Frank anyway?).   Picture this:  We are strolling along, I’ve just made eye contact with a baby across the aisle, when all of a sudden the cart turns sharply toward a pile of…jicama and ginger.  Seriously????  What the heck do we need this for?  Oh, right…PICTURES.  TEXTURE PICTURES.  It’s sooo embarrassing.  She kneels down next to the food and looks closely at it…then steps back to examine it farther away.  Then, to my horror, she looks around to check for witnesses, and then pokes the food.  Yea, you read right; she actually pokes it.   I squeeze my eyes shut and cover my face hoping to disappear.  Momma, however, thinks I am trying to play peek-a-boo and just ruffles my hair.  We don’t even make it out of the fruits and vegetables anymore…and our kitchen is full of strange food.   Slightly concerning???  Ummm… I’d bet my berries on it!   What’s next?  The camera coming into the store??  Shhhh!  Don’t give her any ideas.  Oh bananas, I think she heard me!!

It was hard enough to say, let alone understand what Momma was talking about when she talked about exposed aggregate.  Then again, she does mumble…and she does ramble.  I was afraid to know who was running around exposed without diapers.  So I went to Daddy for an easier explanation.  After all, I had to start understanding what these things were that Momma just randomly blurts out, Daddy stops the car for, and they BOTH go running through fields, parking lots, cemeteries and abandoned houses to take pictures of!!

Well, once Daddy explained that the little stones and rocks come up and sit on top of concrete like they are taking a nap there, it was a tiny bit easier to understand.  And then, Momma actually made sense and said that Papa and Gram’s driveway was exposed aggregate.  OOOOHHhhhhh, I GET IT!!!  Light bulb!!!

Rocks napping on top of concrete

I was pretty excited to tell Papa and Gram what their driveway was made from.  THAT went over like flinging my food and licking the carpet does.  Not well.  Not well at all.  I pointed. I gestured. I growled.  I tapped the slider window leading out to the driveway.  I pointed and said, “eh-po eh-po eh-po” some more.   I growled some more.  Gram didn’t get it.  She just smiled at me,  called me a character and asked if I needed a butt change. *Sigh*  Papa just assumed I wanted to go outside and play.  So when I tapped on the driveway with my feet and pointed they both just smiled and told me they love me and I entertain them.  Oh bananas.

Putting that failure behind me, I tried to show some kids at the park when I noticed the exposed aggregate on the walkway AND on the water fountain that everyone insists on drinking.  Ewe.  And you judge me for eating dirt???!!  I think I was getting somewhere because the little boy threw a little rock at me, clearly showing his interest in the rocks I was telling him about.  So I brought them over to the walkway where they obviously needed to look closer at the stones to appreciate all those little rocks just napping on top of the concrete!  It was so cool.   That’s why I gently pushed their heads down close to the ground.  And that’s when their moms came running, and my Momma had a horrified look on her face.    Raised voice and tears followed, but not from me!    Man, it’s tough being one.  Don’t even get me started on the teething…

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• Nate’s Notes: Plastic Texture

I’m back!  Whew…I was in trouble for snooping in Momma’s journal, so I didn’t have access to writing.  Again, I’d like to point out she continuously leaves her journal WELL within my reach.  I’m a one-year old boy who needs to practice my developing skills.  I’m exploring…is that a CRIME?  She thinks it is, though we are still discussing my point.

Anyway… I like to help Momma around the house.  We wash the floors together in the kitchen and bathrooms (someone needs to get her a mop though because she looks like Cinderella on her hands and knees).  Mostly we have to clean the kitchen floor so much because I throw half of my food on the floor.  I’m trying to feed the dogs because they look at me like I’ll be the most coolest super kid if I share my food.  So I do.  And so Momma says I have to help clean my mess.  That’s how come I know what linoleum is.  As far as I can tell, this linoleum stuff is just on the floors, not walls, or furniture, or outside.  At least it is softer to fall on than the hardwood at Papa and Gram’s house.

I also like to help Momma rearrange drawers of clothes and dishes.  What can I say, I’m a big helper! Momma has a different name for it.   Today I’ll just tell you about the dishes…the plastic ones.  For some reason, she won’t let me help with the glass dishes.  So NOT fun.   Where is her sense of adventure?  Jeez.   So, the plastic ones come in many many many shapes, so many sizes, and so many colors.  Did you know the plastic-maker people can do all that with the stuff?   And apparently many of my toys are plastic?!  But they all look so different!

This is A-MAZ-ING.  Seriously…legos, blocks, bath toys, balls, even some dog toys…all plastic. My tricycle thingy…plastic.  My bottles…plastic.  My sippy cup…plastic.  And it doesn’t end there folks.  Wow…I gotta take a minute and sit down… on my plastic chair!