Max said that he really wanted to get Bo some fish for his birthday (with the full knowledge that Bo is REALLY good at sharing his belongings).  Soooo Adam and Max snuck out one night to get the supplies.  We had a great vase that seemed goldfish worthy and some river rocks from a craft project so we were set.  Or so we thought.  As I was putting Bo down, Max and Adam were carefully preparing the fish(es) tank (yes, they got two).  And all of a sudden the vase exploded on the counter.  Rocks, Goldfish, Water, (and Max tears) were all over the place.  Adam palmed the fish and threw them into a glass of cold tap water (any fish owner will grimace at that sentence) and quickly cleaned up the glass.  So back to Walmart they went.  This time they returned with a legit fish bowl starter kit- complete with a net, rocks, water treatment solution (who knew?), and food.  But we didn’t get the memo that goldfish (part of the carp family I’m told) are some of the dirtiest fish around… and the Millers do not like dirty things that require a lot of upkeep.  Just ask Faye.  So after a short, traumatic life, we found the goldfish sleeping and Adam sent them “to the river” via that toilet.

Max was my “helper” and we prepared Bo’s sheep cake during his nap time- I sure am glad I had his help because I am not sure I could have sampled all of the cake and frosting and marshmallows on my own

We celebrated at my parents house where we had a nice lunch, opened gifts (enter “helper Max” again), and Bo enjoyed his first big boy helping of cake and ice cream.

He was not shy about the process and eventually figured out that he could get more in his mouth if he just brought his face down to the tray.  My kind of guy.  Bo and I are going to get along verrrry well.

We are so thankful for our sweet, snuggly Bo.

Okay okay, I DO realize that there are 52 weeks in a year… and that my little Bo bear IS one YEAR old…. and now that you mention it, his newborn clothes ARE getting a little tight.

On Tues/Thurs mornings Max attends the Little Red Schoolhouse Nursery school (which just so happens to be little and red). It is a co-op where parents volunteer about 4 times a semester so every day there are 2 teachers and 2 parents present. I got to go with Max a couple weeks ago on field trip day!!! The reminder email came to my inbox and sounded so wonderfully educational and yummy – a field trip to the local bread company via the public bus system!!! I am all about fun field trips and new experiences… but I have my hands full with 2 kids (one of which can’t even walk, or talk, or share his opinion, or have to use the restroom, or wander off towards the street, or – you get the idea) so taking 14 kids was a bold move!

We left the schoolhouse at 9:10 for the 9:30 bus (2 blocks away). Sounds like overkill…. but you would be amazed at the number of interesting things 3 year olds MUST check out on a 2-block walk… and we ended up jogging to catch the bus. Once we got to the bread company we met Baker Bob (tie-dyed shirt in pic below) who walked us through the process of making bread – from wheat kernel to the oven – complete with crushing kernels into flour, adding yeast, honey, salt, and water to a big bucket – kneading the dough directly on the bakery’s cement floor (I am fairly certain this is not standard practice) and throwing it in the oven. Baker Bob was so calm and collected that he wasn’t frazzled by the herd of 14 cats involved in 14 things besides his demonstration. Max stood near me cautiously (you never know when some loud machinery might fire up… see previous post). He loved mixing the dough but was preoccupied with the possibility of getting to taste the bread after (he takes after his mom).

For our (well-earned) snack time we enjoyed bread fresh from the oven.

…Then we rounded up the troops and headed back for the bus stop. Nothing like complex carbohydrates to set the stage for 14 sugar crashes somewhere between the bakery and the bus stop, complete with rag-doll hand holding (please tell me you know what I’m talking about – when you are holding a 3 year olds hand, trying to guide them, and they go limp and hang from your arm… ). It was quite comical and I was amazed at how the teachers handled it in stride – with a smile on and some sort of song to keep the kids moving forward. And now I understand why Max is always ready for a good rest when he gets home from school… and why I am a meteorologist.

Max is very sensitive (okay, terrified) by loud or unexpected noises (think animated toys that shouldn’t move, whistles, fireworks, car horns, etc) so this can sometimes complicate life. Especially when part of your dad’s job is to attend sporting events to support KU athletes. When discussing our plans at the breakfast table we reminded Max that we would be meeting dad at the KU Volleyball game around lunch.
Max: “But they aren’t going to yell or have whistles, right?” … (flashbacks of our first game last year that began with a loud whistle, followed by lots of tears, shameless attempts at bribing Max into the gym with concession stand treats, and ended with eating a hot dog in the hall outside of the gym.)
We charged forward hoping that he had outgrown this fear. Fail. Max is still not a fan of the whistles or the girls (pronounced “grills”) yelling. So we improvised.

These two boys are part of our life now… and our life involves loud gyms… so strap on your noise-canceling headphones and hold on.

Now outings with mom are usually a day or two in the making… diaper bag packed full with a change of clothes, wipes, a drink, books for the car ride, camera…. and as for snacks- these are carefully prepared homemade snacks like sandwiches, apple slices, carrots, etc. Everyone uses the “potty” moments before loading up.

Now… let’s consider a dad date:

Adam got the invitation at 4:30 and they were in the car by 5:00. Change of clothes? No way – we’ll just buy some pants if he has an accident. Drink? Sure – full strength juice! Dinner to go? No way – we will get food at the game? Potty before leaving? Sure – do it in the front yard. And let’s take a bag of popcorn in the car for the ride there! Car entertainment? Sure – grab the DVD portable dvd player! (WHAT?  Dad’s get to break all of the (made up) mom rules for dates?!)

Coincidentally I had just sung the “take me out to the ballgame” song to Max for the first time that day, only hours before the invitation… so he was ready with all sorts of requests (“buy me some peanuts and crackerjacks”…) He was on a mission to experience the full spread available at the snack bar. The cotton candy (which Max said tasted like “pink hair” — perhaps he meant “looked like”, but one can never be sure) was his favorite. Then of course, he tried a hot dog…. and a big bottle of water…. and cracker jacks… – nothing like a date with dad. (Now let’s recall mom date snacks — when the kid next to you has a bag of “pink hair” mom-date treats go over like a lead balloon).

Who won?? Max can’t tell you, but he knows the snack bar menu by heart.  I’ll have to take some notes from dad to make mom-dates more enticing – maybe a bag of pink hair every once in a while.

Max, you have been such a blessing – and have given us so much to be thankful for. First, you gave me the opportunity to see Adam go from being a great husband to a great husband AND dad.  You made me a mommy- what a gift- and have taught me that there are MANY things I need to thank MY mommy for You have grown from a curious infant/toddler into a witty, tender-hearted little boy. You leave us silent-laughing many times a day yet always invite us to “come and snuggle for a lil’ second” each night.

Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Max, happy birthday to you!

A look back at the past three July 2nds (Norman Regional, Alaska, and Meme/Papa’s backyard)… and our 3 year-old man!

We arrived at Papa Don’s (45 min drive) by 8:15. Yes, we rise early… but so does the sun… and the boys have been noticing. We fished from the gazebo where Papa Don and his friends dump their dinner remains most nights – I find it a bit unfair that these nearly-domesticated fish come so eagerly for a meal and then get a hook instead. On my first cast I had “big slippery” on the line and he was drawing line out of my pole. Eventually the line snapped and we were left wondering how many feet long he was. We headed back to Papa Don’s apt for some morning pie and rides on his scooter.

During our visit I couldn’t help but notice all of the weather instrumentation around his apt. I believe I counted 5… but he assures me there are more. First there is a meat thermometer in the air conditioning unit (see pic – this is part of a research project he is conducting to determine why there is a large discrepancy between the temp in his living room and his bedroom; pic of research notes below), a carefully-mounted exterior temperature gauge, a 3rd unit sitting on top of the thermostat (part of another experiment I am told… or perhaps a verification source for the first experiment), and the “water temp” thermometer – this gauge is inside of a laundry bag with a long rope attached so that it can be dropped into the fishing lake. So I guess I have my answer when people ask why I chose meteorology — it runs in my genes.