Henrypalooza

We don't have a baby anymore. Henry is now a little boy.

Sloan thinks it is a great idea to think of Henry's birthday as a "palooza" type event. We'll promote it big time for five or six years, and then be done with it. His stats--23 lbs 6 oz (50th percentile--Yipee!); 31 1/2 inches (90th percentile); and 85th percentile in noggin circumference. He is having a bit of a time making the transition from the bottle to solely the sippy cup. After much research by Henry, he will only use the Nuby sippy cups. Anything else he tosses. Literally. So I've just gone to the store and stocked up as 2 was simply not enough.

He also racked up in the gift department. Here is the tally--1 ride on/walker dump truck, 1 baby pool, and 1 sprinkler (from Sloan and Me), 1 wagon, complete with cup holders (Gigi and Papa), and one indoor slide and cool clothes (from Grandma and Grandpa). He also got some trucks, balls, loads of books, name cards, a giant fluffy stuffed bunny (that I'm considering stealing), cars, and some Toys R Us gift cards. He is stocked up!


Here are some pics from the 2 days of Henrypalooza.

Who wouldn't be happy after just going shoe shopping with Mommy! He got his first pair of real sneakers--a pair of red Keds.

At lunch at the Cheesecake Factory with Gigi and Papa. We learned that Henry loves Macaroni and Cheese and whipped cream. Ice cream, not so much.

He was also more excited to play with the spoon than eat the ice cream. (How very unPhillips of him!)

At Casa Grande on his birthday night with Grandma and Grandpa Phillips where he got to eat one of his favorite foods from Mommy's rice--peas!

The house all decorated for the big guy's party on Saturday.

Henry is excited to show people around his new house and is stoked that those blasted gates are finally open!

The world's gloppiest and sloppiest decorated birthday cake.

This picture was taken as we were singing "Happy Birthday" to him, which was about the same time his 20 month old cousin Isabel started shrieking with excitement about three feet from Henry.

Henry's previous love of icing did not translate to a love of his cake. He did not like everyone staring at him, singing to him, or the fact that he had this gloppy stuff all over him.

Henry wonders what this candle tastes like.

Why won't Mommy and Daddy comfort me? Can't they see I'm covered in this sticky stuff? Won't somebody pick me up? Mom, is that really the fastest way to clean me up? What are we, cheeba monkeys?

True love in West Virginia. No, Isabel and Henry were separated during dinner at Kabuto, but now are allowed to love on one another before going separate ways. Oh, the talks we will have to have when they are older...

Happy Henry Eve!

Tomorrow is the pickles birthday and we are planning to celebrate with a party and loads of family coming in town. To prepare, I have made Henry a cake. Yes, it was a cake from a box, but I figure that Henry has no context for cakes so this funfetti cake will in fact be the best cake he's ever had seeing as it is the only cake he has ever had. I'm getting an ice cream cake for the guests anyway--so stop judging me already!

Henry helped me frost the cake, which was hysterical as I could literally see the sugar make him high. At first, I gave him a little icing on my finger and he wasn't too into it. Then, upon tasting it, he didn't want my finger, but grabbed at the whole bin. He has begun grabbing at things. At Toys R Us, he grabbed some stacking cups. At the grocery store, a handful of Red Lobster Gift Cards. I tried to explain to him that if he was going to steal gift cards for Mommy, she'd rather he grab Outback or at least Maggiano's.

About this Mommy Stuff

Some friends and I have been discussing the things no one tells you about motherhood. Sure, it's great and there is nothing like it, but I swear each of us have had the following thoughts...

1. Why won't this kid just shut up? His parents really ought to teach him better than that. Crap, I'm his parent.

2. I wonder what Mom is fixing for dinner. Crap, I'm Mom.

3. Can a child survive on Popcorn and Cereal?

4. Is it a problem that my child has a better diet than me?

5. When is the babysitter showing up?

6. When do they start sleeping in?

7. This kid is never leaving. I'm never going to have a moment alone again.

8. How am I going to bathe when he is too big for his exersaucer?

9. Why won't you take a nap? I want to take a nap. How about you do laundry and cook and I'll sleep all afternoon. Would that be better?

10. I really should drink more.

But then I realize that there is this little boy who is the only person in the world who gives me the proper reaction to my entering a room. He giggles and cackles and screams with delight. Finally, I am recognized for my greatness even if by only my son. And if you got to see this smile every day and know it was for you--that'd be more than enough.

But really, man, what is Mom fixing for dinner?

My little Oompaloompa

Henry discovers Cheetos.

Mommy wishes she's bought the white cheddar ones.

My son has made me stupid

Two times in the past week I've left my wallet at home, only to discover it when trying to check out. I swear I never did this kind of thing before Henry was born. Ugh. The people at Michael's and Target just love me.

And yesterday, the Phillips family stunk. Like Homeless people. While changing a diaper at church, Henry peed all over himself and ALL OVER ME! Of course, ever the prepared Mommy, I had a change of clothes for Henry--but alas, none for me. As I went back into the service and sat next to Sloan, he noticed that Henry was no longer in seersucker overalls, but pajamas. "Have an accident, honey?" he said. "Yes. Your son peed all over me. I've got urine all over my shirt and pants." Sloan laughed and then cuddled Henry. I leaned over to him, "We're leaving. I'm sure God will understand that I'm not going to sit here with pee all over me." So we left. And of course, we still had to go by the old condo and pick up a few more things so I sat in my urine and fed Henry while Sloan lugged stuff down those three flight of stairs getting ever so sweaty. On the ride home, Henry spit up all over himself and of course, reeked of vomit. So by the time we got home, Sloan said, "We smell like homeless people. I'm nasty and sweaty, and I smell the best of us. We should buy some cigarettes just so the smell is complete."

There just is no hope for Henry when he has such awesome, responsible parents. Last night, before going to bed, I checked in on a sleeping Henry. He'd taken off his pajama pants (of course) and had grabbed some dirty laundry out of his hamper that sits next to his crib and was cuddled up with it. My poor boy. Pantless and cuddling dirty clothes. I'm growing ever more compassionate for Britney by the day.

Henry Loves his Auntie Shannon

Just because we are no longer right down the road, Henry and I still manage to meet with the "lunch bunch," aka, the original members of the Henry Marshall Phillips Fan Club, at church. We just have to plan it now. Oh well.

All Moved In...Sort of

So we've been in the new house a week. There have been a few mishaps along the way, but for the most part it has been a pleasant, albeit tiring, experience. For starters, I fell through our front porch on move in day and now have what I lovingly call "a sausage" leg. Below are pictures of the offending hole and subsequent injuries, although the bruises are much worse now as they have entered the black, purple and beginning to green phase. Ugh.

Henry also did not make it through the move unscathed. On two different occasions, he was chewing on a stick, choked, and threw up. One might ask was I not watching him--it gets worse--I was holding him. Both times. The first time I was quick enough to lean him over and let him christen the driveway, but the second time I was awash in vomit. Awesome. Also, at some point in the day he scraped his foot and was bleeding. Being the strong man that he is, he did not cry upon hurting himself. Oh, and on Monday, I once again assured my spot on the Mother-of the Year award list. Henry was at my feet playing with my shoelaces as I hung up pictures in his room. When I looked down, I realized that no longer was he playing with my shoelaces, but had taken his night light out of the wall, removed the shade, and had commenced to trying to bite the light bulb! That's right--my son was chewing on a light bulb! Luckily, God looks after fools and their children as he did not break the light bulb prior to my heart attack and subsequent removal of the light bulb from the crumb catcher's hands. But mostly it is all good.