Guest Writer

This is Henry.
Mommy is kind of a blog-hog. Yeah, yeah, I know, mostly what she writes about is me, but I think I oughtta set the record straight a bit. (Besides, my buddy G-love writes his blog and he's just 6 weeks old. But Mommy says that if I must blog, I must do it fully clothed. I tried to explain about how G-love does it in the buff and she went all "if he jumped off a bridge" on me. Why is it always someone jumping off a bridge?) I have, however, decided to let Mommy be my photographer.
So, I'm a big kid now.
No. I still poop in my pants. Don't get that excited. My buddy Nano goes in the potty and if you ask me, that just interferes with the playing. I like to poo on the go. I've heard Mommy say that she has 3 requirements before she'll start "the training." The first is that I must be able to say the word potty, second I must correctly answer the question 'Do you have poop in your pants?," and three, I must be able to pull off my own pants. Well, the thing is Mommy, you know I can strip down on my own, but I'm gonna hold off on saying potty for awhile and why do you need me to tell you there is poop in my pants when you can so obviously smell it. You're already making me learn how to crawl in and out of my car seat on my own, so please, cut me some friggin' slack. (Yeah, I said friggin'. I know, I'll probably get taken into the dining room and talked to.)
But I'm a big kid because I now sleep in a big kid bed. And it isn't just any big kid bed--it's Mommy's big kid bed, so it is wicked old. The coolest things about the bed are that Mommy can sit in it with me to read me books and it is made of balls. Balls, I tell you. BALLS! Mommy says some people count sheep. I count balls. (Right now, Mommy is laughing because I keep typing the word balls. But I don't know what it so funny about balls.) And Mommy even put in my new bed the nap lengthener with my two new books I got for my happy birthday--Curious George goes to the Zoo and Thomas Gets Tricked. Sweet!
Mommy put the bed together all on her own, which made Daddy mad because apparently Mommy has a hard time listening to Daddy and remembering what he says. I think I can use this against her in the future. Apparently "forgetting" something means it is okay to ignore Daddy's request.
Mommy says I should hurry up and show you guys some pictures. She also says I've picked out too many pictures. But Mom, have you seen me? I'm cute. My Auntie Robin says I'm objectively cute--Not just, oh I love you because you're my child cute, but as in the cuteness to which other babies are measured. So no, Mommy, I do NOT think I've picked too many photos.

This me right after Mommy got done putting the bed together having a post-nap sippy of milk while reading a book. And yeah, I'm wearing pink. And no pants.

There is also this cool railing that comes up. This is why this bed is better than my crib. The crib just seemed unnatural missing a side and I did not like that. At all. And these bars are made of balls! Whoopee!

Mommy needs to shorten the nap lengthener. It kind of droops below the matress now and I have to dig out the books. But I'm pretty good at digging, so it works for now.

Gratuitous picture of me loving Dog. (Yes, Mommy, I know it is a bunny. Get off it, already. He is a bunny named Dog. Once again, my bunny, I can call him whatever I want.)

Mommy told me it was time to get down off my new bed. She seems to think that just because she tells me to do something and now it is easy for me to do it, that I will obey. Sorry, Mommy, I "forgot" to listen. Also, Mommy, you can take Dog and Dog-Dog away all you want, but seriously, you know you love to sleep too much to keep them away from me at night.

I do not want to get down from this bed. And why did you throw Dog and Dog-Dog out into the hall. Does the snapping photos of me when I'm in distress help, Mommy?

Al-bert, Al-bert, Aaaaal-bert! (As sung in Bye Bye Birdie)

Well, people, it's on. We have officially erased the pencil ink and taken out the sharpie--my embryo transfer will be next Thursday, May 7th. I saw on a church billboard the other day that May 7th is also National Prayer Day. I'm thinking this bodes well for us (although I'm pretty sure it is just delusions of grandeur that is leading me to believe everyone will be praying for me to get pregnant.)
The shots begin this Saturday. It should be interesting this time around with the shots as I'm enlisting both the doctor's office and some friends to cover the days when Sloan is out of town with work. So if you see me in the church bathroom next Tuesday with my fanny exposed and a friend armed with a needle, do not be alarmed. It's just the body of Christ coming together to conceive our child. Just another subtle reminder that this next child, like Henry, really belongs to His family and is just chilling out in our family in between now and eternity.
In other news, the weather report for Elizabethtown--pollen induced itchy throat and hormone induced acne, with a mild case of train mania. In the tradition of large storms, I have taken to naming my zits. (This tradition began in high school where my best friend and I had zits named Billy and Todd.) The newest zit is named Albert. And he is ginormous and in the middle of my cheek. My darling husband told me that my zit made me look like young. To which I responded, "So you're saying I normally look old?" (The train mania is because I am now spending large amounts of time coming up with the awesomest train track/building scenarios. The island of Sodor has never looked so cool. In order to do this successfully, I must play with my trains when Henry is asleep. That's right people, I'm playing with trains. Choo-choo!)
We've also made a compromise about the bed. Due to Sloan's errant crown, we had to trek down to NC for a dental visit to my dad. And Henry slept in my old toddler bed while we were at Gigi and Papa's. He did awesome. So we brought it back with us and are setting it up this evening before bedtime. I was a bit worried that it might be rickety because it is an antique, but my dad reminded me that back in the day they made all furniture out of actual wood.
Henry was also a champ this morning at his 2 year check up. And for those mom's out there with kids younger than 2 yrs old, get excited--no shots required at the 2 yr check up. SCORE!!! But his stats are thus--28.8 lbs, 36 inches, and 39.5 cm in head circumference. So yes, he needs a 3T for the length of his shirt, but can still rock the 12-18 month shorts.
Perhaps he is more of a string bean than a pickle...

2nd Annual Henrypalooza

We caved.
We put the crib back together, deciding that the night before a party was not a good night to be without sleep. (Of course, Sloan and I put it back together while both sets of grandparents were downstairs Friday night playing with Henry. It was only until the f-bomb was dropped at one point that we were informed that the monitor was on and our stressed out "how in the heck does this go back together/why don't we get your father who is an Engineer to help us" conversation was being blasted in stereo downstairs. Awesome.) We'd planned on transitioning back to the toddler bed last night, but our AC was on the fritz and thought that was an excuse to keep him the crib as well. On the one hand, I'm feeling a bit like we are pushing him too early. And yet, on the other hand, I know that I won't be able to pick him up much should next week's embryo transfer take and I'm pregnant. So, like many older brothers before him, Henry is just going to have to 'man up' for the sake of the family. So we'll try again later this week.
And in addition to caving about the crib, our boy is quite spoiled. He racked it up for his birthday. So much that I spent his entire nap time on Saturday playing with the toys myself. We now have Tidmouth Shed, Knapford Station (complete with a microphone), a tunnel that toots and hoots like an owl, and many other Thomas train tracks and accessories. It's pretty much awesome. But I think the day can best be expressed in pictures.

The newest Phillips family tradition--birthday breakfast at Dunkin Donuts. (And also the perfect opportunity for you to see his super cute birthday T-shirt I found on Etsy. Yes, I know, I could make this. And next year, I will.)

Henry eyes Mommy's sprinkled donut while the first round of Happy Birthday is sung. Sorry, Henry; you have to wait until the party to get your shirt dirty.

Another Phillips tradition--Henry goes to the nearby nursery to pick out a tree for Grandpa Phillips to turn into a bonsai. This year's pick? A juniper tree. To say that my father-in-law is into bonsai trees would be a gross understatement. He attends conferences, takes classes, and has about 50 of them on display in his Davidson home. I'm pretty sure it is because he understands the importance of a hobby when you're retired. Probably why after 40-odd years, he and Ruth are still happy. Having all your friends over to play with Thomas? Awesome! From left--Anna (4), Anna's daddy, Chris, cousin Jonathan (almost 6), Henry, cousin Joshua (8), cousin Isabel (almost 3), and Nathan (2 1/2).

Enjoying Mommy's cheap post Easter birthday party activity--a Henry Hunt (aka Easter Egg hunt.) Seriously, 100 pre-filled eggs for $2. It was a big hit and I highly recommend it.Henry finally "gets" opening presents. Except that he is not greedy enough yet to just open them and move on. Each toy requires at least 10 minutes of trying to open the box and yank all those pesky twist-ties about.

Henry learns early the key words to getting whatever you want--the words "Gigi" and "Papa" (my parents' grandparent names). Even when they left, he kept asking for them. I think he believes (and rightly so) that simply calling their names may just be the key to all his dreams coming true.How I know I was a bratty little sister. (Otherwise known as Henry's favorite gift--a snare drum from my sister.)
It took a couple of tries to work out that cupcake. Mommy forgot to turn off the ceiling fans. But 2 candles on a Curios George cupcake work every time. One iced candle for each of his girlfriends--Anna Banana and Sweet Isabel. It should be noted that we had a Thomas/Curious George themed party. We took the pickle to Party City and held up George plates and Thomas plates and told him to pick. He grabbed both and said, "George Choo-Choo." So we gave a nod to his favorite toy, Thomas, and a nod to his favorite book, TV show, and movie--Curious George.
Nathan shows Henry how to eat a cupcake neatly with a fork.
Isabel prefers the shove it in your face method. Jonathan simply sucked off his icing and then handed it to my sister, saying, "Here mommy. A cupcake for you." Sonya, being 7 months pregnant, appreciated the cupcake.
And how does one end the perfect day? At dinner with Gigi and Papa and the Pusey cousins, and a kiss from his favorite cousin, Isabel.

Happy Henry Eve

The nap lengthener does NOT guarantee that upon converting a crib into a toddler bed that your child will stay in his or her crib.

I just spent the past hour and a half getting Henry to stay put in his bed for naptime. He loves that he can get into it and out of it at will. First we just tried telling him to stay put and then leaving. Within thirty seconds, I would hear the pitter-patter of feet and the pulling out of toys. Specifically a giant tractor. So I'd go in and tell him to get back into bed. The tractor came with him.

Then I would hear the tractor against his bedroom door. So back into the Pickle's room. I then removed the offending tractor from his room and once again explained that it was nap time and he was to stay in his bed.

Failure.

So then I got my book and hunkered down in his rocker. He stayed put in his bed while I was in the room. But would talk to me and point out all the balls in his room. Then he threw Dog and Dog-Dog on the floor. Then looked at me. I said, "You need to stay in your bed. You're a big boy now. You'll be 2 tomorrow." So he'd lay down, cantilevering over the edge of the bed, and yank Dog and Dog-Dog back onto the bed with him after it was obvious I was going to be no help. After an hour of this, I thought, "Well, he knows the deal. I can get up and clean the house before both sets of grandparents arrive."

Nope. He just waited until he heard the click of his door and Mommy was out of the room to get up. So I went back in and began again. Telling him that he needed to stay in bed. I even laid down next to him in the crib and rubbed his head for awhile. I was confident that this time was going to stick so I waited outside his shut door to listen.

Within 10 seconds, I heard him playing in his drapes. I opened the door and he went "Uh-oh" and immediately ran back to his bed before I could even admonish him.

Which told me that it wasn't a matter of understanding what he was supposed to be doing, just down right rebellion. So I informed him that if he got up from the bed again, I was going to spank him.

He waited a full minute to get out of the bed this time. So, being a Mommy of my word, I went back into his room, armed with my spatula. "Henry, you need to stay in bed. You did not. You disobeyed Mommy. You are going to get a spanking."

"No no no no no."

"Yes, sweet boy. Mommy loves you too much to ignore when you disobey." And so I spanked him. Then held him and told him I loved him and forgave him. We prayed for Jesus to forgive him and to help him stay on the bed and to fall asleep quickly. All the while, Henry is crying and rubbing his eyes. So I decided to do something I haven't gotten to do in awhile. Rock my dear boy to sleep. By the end of the second verse of Amazing Grace, the Pickle was out. And successfully made the transition to the bed without waking up.

I'm thinking that Henry Eve is going to be a long night.

Since Sliced Bread

I have just had my best idea. I've invented something. And it may just revolutionize my life.

Okay. I'm using the term "inventing" loosely. It was misleading of me to use it in that second sentence without quotations around it. It would be more accurate to say I "McGuyver'd" something. And it is sheer genius. Genius, I tell you.

What is it?

I call it "THE NAP LENGTHENER." (But it can also be used to buy an extra 30 minutes in the morning.) In Real Simple fashion--it is a laundry bag that doubles as a book bag.

And Henry loves it. It is a big, big hit. At bedtime, I load it up with 3 or 4 board books and when I check on him before I go to bed, I put the books back in the bag.

The necessity that was the mother of this "invention" was that Henry is starting to shorten his naps and wake up before 7. Two things that just ain't gonna happen as long as I'm in charge. I just don't think it is rational to wake up before 7am if you have no where to be other than home. Gotta dr's appt, fine--set the alarm early. But there is a reason they call waking early "ungodly."

And as to the shorter naps? No, thank you. I know I'm spoiled that the pickle sleeps for three hours every afternoon. However, lately, he has been waking up after just 2. But I need these hours. I'd like to say that it is during these hours that I clean my house, work in the yard, bake bread, read the Bible, write the next great American novel. But mostly, I just check facebook, read my book, drink Diet Dr. Pepper, leaving said soda sitting wherever I want, and make lists of all the things I should be doing. (Or like today, I just sat on my bum, drank Diet Dr Pepper, and chilled out with the super cool Jenny and baby Gray. Gray is 5 weeks old and is going to be Henry's "baby" trainer. Henry likes Gray. He particularly likes to point at him and laugh. Not because Gray is funny looking or anything, but because Henry thinks babies are awesome.)

And it is working people! This afternoon, after my four hour lunch date with the Brocks, Henry stayed upstairs for 3 hours. After Jenny left, I turned on H's monitor so I could hear him when he woke up. About 20 minutes later, I heard some grunting and rustling. Then squeals of delight. Then laughter. Then "Ball. Ball. Woof. Woof. Meow. Boat. Boat. Ruck. Ruck. on-on! on-on!" (I think this means honk honk.) And sure enough, when I went to get him, he was laying back in his crib, with his head on "Dog" (the stuffed animal formerly known as Mr. Bunny) and his little feet crossed at his ankles and propped up on "Dog-Dog" (the one that actually is a dog), looking at the Babies First Words book, simply pointing and shouting out all that he saw. (Which essentially means that my son can read. He's that smart.)

I'm also hoping that the Nap Lengthener will work to keep him in his crib as we're converting it to a toddler bed this weekend. Should I be pregnant in a month or so, I won't be able to pick him up to put him in a crib and I'll be too tired to wrangle him back in his crib should it be a total disaster (which I'm expecting it to be for the first couple of weeks). My first goal, like a friend told me, is to simply have him fall asleep in his room and the majority of the items in his room to survive the night.

Come on Nap Lengthener! No whammies.

T Minus 18 Days

Yesterday, my facebook status was thus: "Elizabeth Johnson Phillips feels like she is taking crazy pills. Oh wait, she is. And they are giving her hot flashes."

It's on, people. And by it, I mean the craziness. I'm not so sure if it is the hormones I'm taking to prep me for my frozen transfer or if it is simply that I now have a good excuse for my normal craziness and so my ego has called shotgun, letting id have a chance behind the wheel. Pending my ultrasound next Monday, my frozen transfer (also known as the day I get to take my Valium) will be Thursday, May 7th. Having been put into various holding patterns whilst trying for Henry, I have learned to write this date in pencil. But it is on the calendar, nonetheless.

The craziness manifests itself in various forms. First, in general snappiness. As in I snapped at my sweet Sloan for letting the pots and pans soak in the sink, rather than praise him for letting me sleep in an extra 30 minutes on Sunday morning and oh yeah, emptying and filling the dishwasher and cleaning the kitchen. Then, upon recognizing that I'm a shrew of a wife, the second wave of craziness hit.

The crying. Because I'm a horrible wife. And why does he even love me when I am so mean to him? And then, when at church the sermon is on the road to Emmaus and I remember how Sloan and I fell in love, I cry even more. (Sloan and I met at a Recreational Ministries conference in Montreat. At the end of the week, the scripture Luke 24:13-35 was read and then we were paired off to walk a path and instructed to discuss the ways in which God had opened our eyes to Him and then at the end of the path, we took communion with our partner. I was paired off with Sloan. I have no idea what we talked about. I only remember taking communion with him at the end. I ripped off my chunk of bread and dipped it into the chalice of wine, and suddenly I knew I was standing before my husband. Despite the fact that we'd met only a couple days before.) So I'm crying and crying at church. Which led me to the following act at lunch.
Ordering a JUMBO strawberry daiquiri.(You know the giant glass normally refered to as a fish bowl? Yeah. That's the one I ordered on a Sunday afternoon.) This did not really help with the crying, because I cried at lunch when our server brought me a beef enchilada rather than a cheese enchilada. When I tried to explain to our server what was wrong, it went something like this--
"I wanted a cheese enchilada. I think you got confused because I ordered my son's cheese enchilada right after I ordered my Speedy Gonzales." The waiter flips to our order and says, "No. Beef." And then I start crying. "But I never would've ordered beef. We come here every week and I always order the same thing. Ask him, he's usually our waiter, and it is always cheese. But it's okay." So the waiter leaves. And then, when 5 minutes later I realize that I have not, in fact, asked for a cheese enchilada to replace the offending beef, I cry again. Enter Sloan who flags down our usual waiter and asks for a cheese enchilada.
The booze also did not help with the hot flashes. And because the back of my house is windows, walking around in various states of undress is not really an option. I'm reduced to boxer shorts and tank tops and cranking the thermostat to 65.

So if you decide to visit Elizabethtown, you may want to bring a sweater. And a sugar-rimmed glass.

Crafty McCrafterson

Remember the old craft contest? The one that put out the word that I was, at the very least, 1% dorky? It's been awhile since I've updated about that. Mainly because craft #2 has been sitting in my foyer ready to mail for the past month and this week it finally made its way to the post office.
Craft #2. A mix CD for my best friend since the 5th grade, Meg Jokinen. In compiling this CD, I waded way deep into my CD collection and the search engine on Itunes. And as I looked through various Fiona Apple and Alanis Morrisette songs, I wondered, "Why was I so angry in high school? I was skinny, had a boyfriend, drove a convertible, and had absolutely no bills or responsibilities whatsoever. Why was I listening to all that angry chick music?" But here is the play list. Because most of it would confess to things that are too embarrassing to mention, you will get no explanation as to why the songs were chosen.
Meg's Mix:
1. Closer to Fine, Indigo Girls
2.Fast Car, Tracy Chapman
3.Brown Eyed Girl, Van Morrison
4.Lean on Me, Club Neaveau
5.If I Ever Fall in Love, Shai
6.Blister in the Sun, Violent Femmes
7.Like A Prayer, Madonna
8.Head Over Feet, Alanis Morrisette
9.Addicted to Love, Robert Palmer
10. Send Me on My Way, Rusted Root
11.Been Caught Stealing, Jane's Addiction
12. Through the Eyes of Love (Theme from Ice Castles), Melissa Manchester
13.It Had to be You, Harry Connick, Jr.
14. The Nightingale, Julee Cruise
15. Romeo and Juliet, Dire Straits
And there have also been other crafts made for Henry's Auntie Ann who is having a baby in a month. We made Baby Long a diaper cake (containing both size 1 and 2 diapers, thank you very much) and painted the baby a picture for his or her little nursery. Oh, how we love Auntie Ann and Little Long! (And let's take a moment to reflect on how blue really is sweet Auntie Ann's color. I mean, has an 8 month pregnant woman ever looked so beautiful?!)

And Henry did help with the cake. He put the links together for me and didn't put a single one in his mouth. What a champ!