The Habitat of Meeshie

Book Club: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

As a child I loved to read. My grandmother, I believe, instilled this in me. We would spend hours curled up in her bed as I read aloud to her, sounding out all the difficult words. The best memories I have of her were of when we would read together. The book did not matter as much as the moment, the closeness, the love.

 

I still love reading. I would spend hours reading to my son if he would only sit still long enough for me to do so. Of course, he's only 15 months. We have time. Some day I hope he enjoys reading as much as I do. I hope for those moments where the world stands still and all that is alive is really in the mind, as the words flow from pages. I want to give him that gift.. a gift he will take with him for the rest of his life.. a gift he can give his own children some day.

 

You see, while we learn from our peers and we learn from our parents we also learn from stories. We learn that good can triumph over evil. We learn that you can find your way home. We learn that love really can conquer everything. And, of course, we learn that even the poorest boy can some day own a chocolate factory... if he is good and kind and deserving.

 

This post was inspired by the classic Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl, which celebrates its 50th anniversary this year. To celebrate, Penguin Young Readers Group, in partnership with Dylan’s Candy Bar, the world-famous candy emporium, and First Book, a nonprofit social enterprise that provides books for children from low-income families, is launching a year-long international celebration.

Head over to From Left to Write to learn how you and your child can have a chance to win the Golden Ticket Sweepstakes where the grand prize is a magical trip to New York City plus much more! For every entry submitted, Penguin Young Readers Group will make a donation to First Book. Then, join From Left to Write on July 24 as we discuss Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. As a book club member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes

Mother's Day

Traditionally, mother's day was not my favorite holiday. My own family is long gone and until recently I had no reason to celebrate. However, before I bombard you all with the cuteness that is my Poet..

My mother in law and grandmother in law, Joanne and Ann, have been wonderful. They love my son so very much and they have been willing to do anything to help. My husband's family are good people and I am grateful for everything that they do. His grandmother bought the crib my son sleeps in because she wanted him to have the best and most comfortable option possible. His grandmother is the ultimate baby whisperer, she can get him to sleep when no one else could. His mother is willing to watch Poet with practically no notice and she has gone out of her way to provide anything she could for him.

I know that many people are not as lucky in their in-laws as I am and I just wanted to say... thank you. If you are reading these words - thank you. Thank you for all you do.

And now onto the cuteness!

Lemme innnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!

Oh wait! What's that over there?

With Joanne and Ann - dont let the grump fool you.. he was staring at someone across the table. :)

Taking a nap on Daddy

And that sums up mother's day, pretty much. It wasn't restful but it was full of joy.

And in the darkness bind ceasar to winter is coming?

When last we left my peep army it was modest but fierce. Since then, it has taken on a life of its own. A life aided and abetted by a certain unnamed person we will codename 'husband'. You never know where they will strike....

They could be lurking around your dinner...

Or skulking about your child's highchair...

Or capturing the one peep ring..

Or attacking their rightful peep lord..

But no matter what they do, remember this:

Easter is coming .. it might be suffering from a lack of spelling but it is coming!

Book Club: Reasons My Kid is Crying

For those of you who have read my blog from the beginning, you might have noticed that I included no 'baby first christmas' photos. This is why...

Reason my kid is crying? We gave him a Christmas present. Ahhhhhh memories.

This post was inspired by the novel Reasons My Kid Is Crying by Greg Pembroke who captures frustrating yet hilarious parenting moments through perfectly captioned photos of unhappy kids. Join From Left to Write on April 15 we discuss Reasons My Kid Is Crying. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Book Club: The Opposite of Maybe

About eight or nine years ago, when I was living in sinful Las Vegas, my grandfather had a heart attack. I know, that's not a joyful begining to a story but it is one of the odder ones that I have of him. He called to tell me TWO WEEKS after, while he was checking out from the hospital after refusing to go to a rehab center. He was in his mid-80's and stubborn does not begin to describe him.

I quit my job, packed a bag, and flew back home to Florida to 'take care of the poor man.'

Except, you see, the 'poor man' had moved his girlfriend in and they were shacking up quite happily when I attempted to swoop in and save a day that did not need to be saved.

I'm not sure who was more embarassed. No. Wait. I'm totally sure that I was much more embarassed. When I questioned him on the wisdom of shacking up so soon after a heart attack I was treated to a lovely lecture that included the phrase, 'I'm old. Not dead.'

He's gone now, as I've said before. However, before his death, he attempted to live his life to the fullest. He 'shacked up with a chick' and he ate what he wanted (when said chick wasn't there to lecture him about it) and he tried to find happiness.

It's not a bad way to view things, I suppose.

 

 

This post was inspired by the novel  The Opposite of Maybe by Maddie Dawson. At the age of 44, Rosie finds herself suddenly single and pregnant. She tries to hide in her grandmother’s home, but meets two men that will change her life forever. Join From Left to Write on April 8 we discuss The Opposite of Maybe. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

For he is one

Poet is a year old. Well, he was a year old on March 29th but this was the date of his one year checkup and I wanted to add some statistics for myself.

Length: 29 inches (18th percentile)

Weight: 20.25 pounds (32nd percentile)

Head Circumference: 46cm (47th percentile)

And now for some birthday goodness

The bear cake.. as created by a friend. The 'snout' lifted off and became a totally separate cake that was alllllllllllllll for Poet.

And then there was much scrubbing. Honestly, he barely tasted the thing. He just seemed to like spreading frosting around and attempted to throw it against walls.

Still, fun was had and munchkin was washed. All in all, a nice first birthday.

In the last year he's gone from

To....

He has teeth and he talks and he's almost almost walking. He eats.. well.. everything. He's sweet and charming and enjoys people.

He's one. Already. Dear gods how fast time flies.

 

Book Club: The Idea of Him

There are days that are so busy and so overwhelming that I barely have time to catch my breath. There is so much to do and never enough time to get things done in. There is vaccuming that I haven't done all week and laundry that has piled up until I'm running out of clothes. There is bathroom shelving that has been waiting for installation for months now and baby clothes that I need to pack away.

There is always too much to do. But at night, when it's dark and quiet, when the hustle and bustle has died down, I still remember all the things that haunt me. The daytime keeps it away but at night in the dark, I talk to my grandfather and wonder if he can hear me. And in those moments, I hug my sleepy milk breathed child and let the peace of him wash away all the pain.

No matter how busy my day or how silent the night, no matter what goes wrong or right in my world, the feel of my son in my arms washes everything into peace.

 

This post was inspired by the novel The Idea of Him by Holly Peterson. Allie thought she had the perfect husband, until she finds him and another woman in a compromising position in their own apartment. Join From Left to Write on April we discuss The Idea of Him. Join us for a live chat with Holly on April 3.  As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.

Hangin with my peeps

I don't want to say that I've been busy (since that seems to always be my excuse) but.. I've been busy. Really really busy.

My brother was in town for a day..

Ignore the blurry arm. He has decided that waving is the Best. Thing. Evahhhhhh.

Do you know what else is the best thing ever? Sticking our tongue out at people. That, my friends, is the height of baby coolness this season.

I am also pondering starting a new feature here called "Conversations I have with Dave". Because, really, I must share these gems.

Today text from Dave came while he was at his mother's house:

"So, when I first walked in my mom said "We have porn! Come see our porn!" ... I was misinformed... they are now growing CORN in the backyard ... to my relief."

In between fearing random porn from his mother, he has also arranged for me to spend some quality time hangin with my peeps...

My peep army! It is growwwwwwwwwing! Soon it will take over the world! muahahahaha

Or... I might just need more sleep. Yeah. Or something.

And our next trick is...

Remote thieving!

Oh, yeah, and standing.

 

 

Does this A make me look fat?

Out of my three classes -  I still have two finals to take. BUT one class is done and I got an Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. I got a pretty pretty shiny A! Woot!

And in celebration, my husband brought spring into our house. Look:

Behold! The first peep of spring! Bow before it's might and majesty!

And, of course, he bought me a new wrap because I wanted one and he rocks:

And, finally, it is the mr fuzzy blanket:

The blanket... it's fuzzy. I have one just like it in another pattern and we fight over the fuzzy fuzzy goodness. Then the baby crawls over and steals it and wraps himself in it like a burrito and we have no more fuzzy. So now! Two! Fuzzy! Blankets!

Feel the envy! Feel it! And then admire my shiny A again!