Where, oh where, has our little Bon gone?

Where, oh where could she be?

Knitting and crocheting, of course!  Well, maybe not of course, but for sure.   I think I mentioned a road trip we took back in March to Amelia where my friend Carrie got me 'hooked' on crocheting again.  Well, it's all been downhill from there.  Not really.  Not downhill at all, but I have become obsessed, as I am apt to do, with my re-newly-found hobbies, and spend every spare second knitting or crocheting.  Sometimes both.   I love to mix and match and switch around, and keep a good 10-15 projects going all the time.

This week, I just finished a neat Japanese crocheted handbag I've been working on for awhile, and I'm so excited about it. 

I call it 'finished' because I'm done crocheting, but I still have the daunting (for me) task of lining it.  I have my fabric picked out, and am ready to go, except that my sewing is more of an 'organic' process, and it is always a little more free flowing than making and following a pattern and cutting it out.  Also, while I own a sewing machine, it's about 55 years old, and such a bear to lug out of storage, that I often just 'wing it' and stitch by hand.  Not too consistent with that (again with the free-flowing strategy).  Soooo, I need to wait until I have lots of time (rarely), patience (not often), and peace and quiet (HA!) before I tackle that part of the project.  For now, let's just enjoy the outside of my bag, shall we?

Play Date

A couple weeks ago our good friends Barbara and Chris brought over their son Ian to play with Hayden and we all hung out and enjoyed the beautiful weather on the back porch.  I got the brilliant idea of entertaining the munchkins with bubbles while Chris (Lair) manned the camera.

All went beautifully...

...for awhile.  Hayden was thoroughly entertained, and Chris got some amazing pictures, but Ian was not so impressed with the bubbles... At least not when Miss Bonnie blew a bunch that the breeze carried right over into his little face.  Let's just say the fun got a bit overwhelming...

...and I've never felt like a bigger heel, making that sweet little boy cry.

But, all was soon forgiven.  We took the crazieness and festivities down a notch and headed inside to dig through Hayden's mountainous tub of toys, which both Ian and Hayden heartily approved of.

Hayden shows off her mad doodling skillz while Ian sports his bag mamma-jamma earthworm scarf (that his mommy made for him, from scratch!)

Pretty good fun for a lazy Monday holiday afternoon.

Too Fast

The child really is growing up too fast. 

I can't believe she's brushing her own teeth now. Next, she'll be driving.  Breaks my heart a little.

"Oh, God"

My dearest little pudding-pie honey bee sweetums came out with her first inappropriate phrase this weekend (we won't say bad, although she did come out with one of those as well), and while I'm blaming this one entirely on daddy (give me a minute, you'll see why), it's been a wake up call to us both that we need to watch our mouths.

As I was changing the aforementioned Snookums' dirty, dirty diaper this weekend, I made the comment, "Ohh, Honey! Let me get the wipes.  This one's a doozie!"

To which my little angel-babe responded, "Oh, God!" (which in her VERY Southern accent came out, "Ohhh, Gaaawwwwd!")

I froze, not sure I'd heard her correctly. "What, sweetie?"

"Oh, God!"  It was then that I realized just exactly who she sounded like.  Her loving, doting father has the exact same reaction whenever he releases those little tabs to discover one of her more "productive" creations...

Ahem.

Dear, we need to talk.

She didn't repeat the phrase again until the next poopy diaper a little later that day, and then she again mimicked her daddy.   Soon, though, she'd learned to apply her new saying to all sorts of situations.  Choked on your milk? "Oh, God!"  Dropped your spoon?  "Oh, God!"  Saw a bug?  "Oh, God"

I am avidly working on teaching "Oh, no!" as a substitute, and trying not to show a reaction when the other comes out, but it catches me so off guard to hear this sweet cherubic little voice singing out this little phrase.  Part of me wants to laugh, part of me wants to cry, and part of me wants to break the duct tape out for mine and hubby's mouths.

In which my heart skips a beat

It's a good feeling when you pull up to work 15 minutes late (and you've forewarned your boss that you'll be in late because today is picture re-takes for your 1 year old, who (by the way) was NOT in the mood for picture re-takes and has already made your morning a tale of woe and grief), to see said Boss, along with the HR Director and IT Manager standing on the front steps of the office awaiting you.

That one always gets me.

This morning, it just so happened that the HR Director had brought a package over for a project that my boss, IT and I were working on, and they were helping her unload it from her car.  Whew.

Some miscellaneous thoughts from this morning

1. This is my 200th blog post.  I feel like it should be something profound, but honestly, I lack the energy.   Whoot!   There you go.  A wee bit o' celebration to kick it off.
2. I'm out of deodorant.  I started to look for an extra, and then I remembered I only buy extras for Chris.  I swear the man eats the stuff.  I have to buy 2-3 at a time.  Almost every other shopping trip.   I have this nagging little fear that one day, wandering around in the depths of our basement, I'm going to unearth his true life's work - a full-sized, shower-fresh sculpture of Henry Ford.  Or something equally disturbing.  One thing I have to give him credit for - if you EVER, EVER smell something the least bit unpleasant in his vicinity, I can GUARANTEE you that it's not him.  Sometimes he puts more on before he comes to bed at night.  I think he does that just for the repellant effect, though.  I can't stand to cuddle with an armpit full of chemically concocted "Morning Fresh" man. Ugh.  It's his way of making sure he's got plenty of room to sleep on his side of the bed without getting crowded out, is my theory.  Anyway, my point of this story was that I need to get some deodorant next time I got to the store.
3. There's no spell check on this new blog editor.  Unless they have sneakily inserted it where only those smart enough (surely) to spell their words correctly would be able to locate it.  Therefore, I can accept no responsibility for misspelled words at this time.  I love you all, but not enough to get out my dictionary and double-check.  You will all have discovered that I am not the perfect speller you have come to know and love, and I will be forever ruined.  Or not.  Moving on...
4. While, at our house, we love and respect the "Baby Einstein" videos for their toddler-entrancing powers, I do have a beef with the new one we got  - "Baby's First Moves".  I usually put these videos on while Hayden is eating her breakfast and I'm scrambling to get ready - this cuts my interruptions down to only about 20 a minute, and I make a little progress here and there between the need for me to hold her newfound treasures - a sock, my shoe, my other shoe, that teeny piece of dirt that was on the floor, bunny bear, a coat hanger, a dirty diaper, a clean diaper, a soggy cheerio she just coughed up, another soggy cheerio, a dirty tissue, the hairbow I just put in her hair, the other hairbow I just put in her hair, her paci, a book (a book I need to read RIGHT NOW), and so on and so forth.  So this new video is great, and gets her moving along with the video - "where's your nose? Touch your nose!", "clap!", "roll over!", "peek-a-boo!","sit up!", "jump!", "KICK!".... Kick?!?!  What the?  What the crap do you expect my child to kick?  While watching a video?  In the house?  In a room with lots of breakable items?  Why? Why? Why would you... why?   Just why?  I could go along with all the other activities - no props required, no real worries of damage or destruction, to the child or their surroundings, and here you freaking Disney nuts go and insert "Kick!" in your little video, showing this exhuberant (see, thanks to Blogger, I have no idea if I spelled that word right! Point proven!) young boy kicking a huge bouncy ball in an EMPTY studio set.  After you've just convinced my child to clap and roll and sit and jump along with you, you tell her to KICK something.  FYI, Disney.   We weren't prepared.  We didn't have a BALL ready.  We weren't adequately prepped for this part of the video.  So you know what my wonderful 16 month old (brilliant kid by the way) decided to do? Improvise!  Lovely! I am so proud that she put two and two together and figured since she couldn't kick  a ball she'd have to find something else.  I just wish it hadn't been her toy keyboard.  Or anything, for that matter.  We already struggle with the 'dropping/throwing things for fun' game, and now, with your encouragement, we've learned a new variation - the kicking the crap out of things for fun game. :) Joy.
5. Do I need a 5th thought this morning?  I feel as if I've been sufficiently witty, sarcastic and bitter to get me through the whole day.  Maybe I can end on a sweeter note.  Actually, I do have a good thought to end on.  When Hayden and I got to school, I got her out of her seat and was preparing to set her down to walk her in (she walks into school now! On her own two little legs! It kills me a little everytime.  Too FAST, she's growing up too fast!), she decided it was a good moment for a hug.  So she leaned in and wrapped her tiny arms around my shoulders, rested her head on my chest, just right where I could bury my face in her sweet hair and take in her perfect smell. She was in no hurry to dash off my lap and run in, so I just sat, as long as she was willing, and held her close and soaked in the precious moment.  I try to do that - take the time, when she decides it's time - to hold her close and love her and enjoy her, because I know that all too soon, those moments will become fewer and farther between and I'll wish for them in earnest.  So there we sat in the parking lot, hugging one another and resting our heads together, enjoying that tender moment.   And then, before I knew it, we were off again!

Passing the time...

On our vacation last week, Carrie convinced me to start a new project with her (ok, I kind of just elbowed in or her project, same diff) instead of going cross-eyed reading old rags, and last night, I FINALLY finished it! Voila! Here is my new boardwalk tote!

Thanks to Carrie, who got me back into the crocheting groove...I spent my whole lunch hour looking up new patterns to start! Now, I just have to find the time to do them!  Ahh, the best-laid plans.  For now, I'm going to enjoy this one shining example of my success (and my HUGE bag... this thing could carry Hayden if it were strong enough. Seriously.  Hard to tell from the picture, but it is ginormous!).

One of these things is not like the other

This weekend, Chris and I discovered one of the first major opinions Hayden has made that differs very much from our own.  One of her first forays into becoming her own little individual self.

She LOVES the beach.

It's not so much that I mind the beach is that, 1) I am not very fond of swimming or playing in waters where there are a) animals abiding, and b) waters I cannot see into, and 2) I cannot stand the never-ending presence of the sand in my clothes, hair, fingernails, cracks and crevices, not to mention car, purse, nose, did I mention fingernails and crevices? once you I have been to the beach.  These two things keep me from enjoying most trips to the seaside, although I am fond of the Carribean for its amazing clear blue water, and I do enjoy laying out in the sun a bit, with a chair and a little shade to retreat to every once in awhile.

Chris, on the other hand, has little use for the beach at all.  He shares my sentiments about the sand, although probably not to the OCD degree that I do, and he's not much for swimming or playing in the water, just because that's not his thing.

So between us, we've spent probably no more than 3 or 4 hours at any beaches, total, since we've been married.  Just not our gig.  But we do enjoy taking the occasional walk in the sand, walking to the ocean's edge, maybe even dipping a toe or two in the water, and looking for seashells.  That was our objective when we stopped by the public strand in Fernandina last weekend, but we were amazed with an entirely unexpected discovery:  Hayden was in her element.

She loved the sand, picking it up and letting it run through her fingers.  Flinging small handfuls at nothing in particular.  Digging up shells from the soggy grains and carrying them with her like small treasures.

The water was a huge fascination as well.  We couldn't let her go or stand her up by herself because she would break and run for the waves the second we did. 

She was so eager to go pell-mell into the water.  Chris held her right at the water's edge, and they would watch the waves come lapping up the edge of the beach, spilling closer and closer... until... at the last moment possible, Chris would lift her above the swell and dash backwards, keeping (mostly) just out of the ocean's reach.  This game delighted Hayden to no end, and I think had we let her, would have entertained her for the better part of the afternoon.

I think I may have just discovered my first reason to really love going to the beach, and Chris and I agreed that we need to plan a trip to the beach this year, to let Hayden continue her explorations, and once the weather warms, get her first dip into the salty spray to see if she likes it as much as she thinks she will.  In the meantime, we have a fistful of shells and some amazing memories of this wonderful day to tide us over (pun intended).

PS - Thanks to Carrie and Joel for most of the great photos here!

God made dirt...

...and dirt don't hurt!

At least that's Hayden's stance on the matter. Still enjoying the new-found benefits of warmer weather and the additional evening daylight, Hayden helped me weed for a bit in the flower beds this evening.  Or rather, she helped me rearrange the pinestraw and pluck leaves off of my plants as I dug up the errant briars and clumps of grass (why is it, by the way, that I can't for the life of me get grass to grow in my yard, but it comes up effortlessly and aplenty in my mulch beds?  Just makes me want to put mulch on the yard and grass in the beds...).

I spent several minutes working my way down the front of the house as Hayden played quietly at the corner of the porch, tossing clumps of pinestraw in the air, onto herself, and generally in every which way.  I heard her stir, and looked back to check on her. 

She came toddling over my way, a rock in each hand, grinning from ear to ear. That is when I noticed she had made it down below the pinestraw in at least an area or two, judging from her Georgia clay-stained lips...

This is why I love having a child.  I love seeing the world through her eyes, and giving myself permission to let go of some of the pre-conceptions (is that a word?  I dunno... it's late) I have of myself and the world around me.  Seeing her like this makes me want to go play in the dirt too, although I have to admit, I'll probably pass on the mud pie for dessert.

Concours d'Elegance Weekend

This past weekend, Chris, Hayden and I, along with our friends Carrie and Joel, headed South for the 15th annual Amelia Island Concours d'Elegance.  A weekend of fabulous cars, scenery (it's held at the Ritz-Carlton, on their golf course fairways), and food, it has a little something for everyone, and is by far one of our favorite vacations each year.

This year was the first year Carrie and Joel joined us, so we took a couple extra days and made a real weekend trip out of it.  Although it was at times (especially when Hayden was low on sleep and patience) a little cramped with all five of us in the 4-Banger, we really enjoyed the company and the trip.  Joel and Chris took the wheel, entertaining themselves with car talk and bluegrass soundtracks.  Carrie and I manned the baby station in the back, working on our crochet projects, catching up on our magazine reading, entertaining Hayden, and most of all, trying to keep our focus anywhere but on our husbands' driving.  It was a good arrangement, with very few general freak-outs or meltdowns, and most of those are claimed by the munchkin.

Friday night we headed straight for S-town (if not the heart, then definitely the soul of Georgia), aka Savannah.  We made tracks out to Uncle Bubba's, a restaurant with a well-deserved reputation for some of the best eats in town (or in Georgia, for that matter). 

Without so much as a sign to signify the final turn, somehow the crowds still manage to find its simple presence (perhaps they follow their noses), and after a decent wait, we finally took our seats and our turns sampling their fare.  The dish of the night was a hard call.  With chargrilled oysters and crab bites to start, the flat-out best darn low country boil I've ever tasted, stuffed shrimp that would make you want to slap your mama, and the freshest boiled shrimp around, it's truly a toss up.   I'll probably have to go back again soon for the tie-breaker.

Saturday we bummed around historic Fernandina Beach, antique shopping, noshing on crab burgers, and hitting the beach for some photo ops and a little shell searching.

Sunday of course was the big event.  The time change made what was already an early wake up call that much more painful, but with Joel's Starbucks in hand, we were on our way to the Island for the Concours.  As with every year, the event did not disappoint. 

From new models that blow the term 'sports car' off the flippin' map, like this 1001 hp, 16 cylinder Bugatti,

to true race cars, like those of NASCAR's own #43 - Richard Petty, the show spans the gamut. 

One thing all these cars have in common is that they are top of their class, shining examples of the very razor-thin edge of an envelope being pushed to the limits.  There are concept cars from every era, with features and details that are as much art as they are automobile. 

There are historic cars; Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, 1904 Cadillac, Rolls Royce Silver Ghosts, Deusenburgs, Mercedes. 

And there are admirers of them all, by the thousands, that join us each year for this amazing event.

The weather was, as it nearly always is, perfect.  A good breeze, lots of sunshine, cool enough for a sweater in the morning, warm enough for sandals by the afternoon.  Always a nice break from the chill of the mountains, and a promise of what is to come.

Hayden loved every minute outside.

Walking around for nearly the first time in her life in the outdoors, she could barely contain her excitement, hopping, squeaking and clapping with every other step.  Running for birds, fish and dogs, playing with the other childen we saw, chasing waves and picking grass, she was in heaven the whole weekend.

After our festivities Sunday, we headed back to downtown Fernandina Beach to the Crab Trap for a sample of the best battered fries I've ever gotten at a restaurant, and some amazing crab legs. Then to the hotel for a hard crash.

Monday, we slowly made our way home (with a short detour back to Uncle Bubba's for some more oysters, boil and a sinful strawberry shortcake), and back to the realities of everyday life.   Of all the many years we've made this trip, I have to say that this was probably my favorite.  To have our friends, great food, cool cars, favorite cities, shopping and antiquing all rolled into one trip ranks this weekend pretty high in my book.  The fact that it was my first vacation from work in over a year didn't hurt its score at all, either.

Move Over, Beethoven!

I think we have a new prodigy in the house!

Although the jury's still out on whether she is more raw talent or hammy entertainer.  

Personally, I think I see some of both.

Morning Routine

Hayden and I have settled into a regular morning routine that is much more conducive to me getting ready and getting us both where we need to be on time (most days).  For starters, she wakes me up around 6 or 6:30, and since she's in her room, I don't get to pick her up and roll back over with her... I have to get up and stumble to her room and bring her back to our room, and by that time, she is AWAKE.  And wants FOOD.  And her MOVIE.  Now, ye sorry chamber maid, get the to it!

In order to have a few moments without her in arms, and without wailing, so I can get the essentials done (bathroom, shower, hair, clothes), I created a little cubby in the corner of our room out of pillows one day, and sprinkled some assorted shriveled fruit corpses (raisens, dried cranberries and pineapples) on a plate and set her Baby Einstein on play, and let her be.   She quickly adapted to her new routine  (before I even realized that's what we'd created), and now backs into her little corner, Bunny Bear in arms, points to the TV and hands me her empty plate. 

That's not to say she doesn't ever get bored while I'm getting ready, and say, come bang on the shower glass, smearing her sticky face and fingers along the outside of the enclosure.  And of course, she never picks the moment I have soap in my eyes to do this, leaving me frantically trying to hold the door in place so she doesn't come tumbling in with me.  She has also never gone into the closet and come out toting my underwear from the day before, and rubbing her snotty nose with it.  Not my kid.

All in all, though, our little routine works out well for both of us, and I think she's the cutest little thing ever curled up in the corner watching her show.  It reminds me of the Saturday mornings that Grace and I would grab all our blankets and pillows and stuffies and plod down to the den (the pillows and blankets would get catapulted off the balcony, or rolled down the stairs.  Much more efficient than carrying it all) to watch our cartoons. 

The Definition of Masochism

In a strictly food-related sense, that is.

I am two weeks and 8.6 lbs (GO, me!) into a (I won't call it a diet. Let's just say "New approach to eating") thing, and I have requested that my good buddy Jason, whom I have convinced "owes me one" to get up at the crack of dawn, go 15 minutes out of his way to stop by the Dutch Monkey to get me half a dozen French Crullers because I have given up on the hope of them ever serving them on a weekend when I could actually stop by  myself.

Maybe I'm a little sadistic, too, since I'm employing Jason in this plot, and the rest of my company who's joined with me in a "Biggest Loser" style competition, but let's face it.  This is my blog.  Over here, at least, it's all about me.

I am determined not to derail my progress with these fantastic feats of pastry goodness (which is why I wanted six. Just for me.  All MINE.), but I may crumble under the cinnamon-y, sugary, fluffy, tender, sweet, decadent, luscious, moist, wonderful, angelic... excuse me, I need to go get a bib to contain the drool.

Okay.  All better.  Now, where was I?  Oh yeah. I might break tomorrow when he comes toting in that box of sinful yumminess, and who will I have to blame?  Myself, only.  And maybe my other co-worker Frank, who introduced us all to this heavenly (and fantastically trendy) hole-in-the-wall bakery.

Actually, I am getting the six to share with my husband, daughter, mother in law, and to eat myself over the next couple days.  I am concentrating very hard to not build this special treat up too high so that all I can see, think, or taste are doughnuts.  I think I'm doing pretty well so far.