Breakfast

Yum.

What is more fascinating than a developing mind?

Carter has always loved coloring. I love this about him, because I also love coloring. I find it very therapeutic.


You can get your frustrations out:



Or be very quiet and purposeful as you draw.


These pictures were taken several months ago. During that time, when I would ask him what he was drawing, he would say "Cars. I'm drawin' cars."


So this past week we've started a game that he now asks for every evening: "Mom, can we draw cars?" And here's what "drawing cars" means...

First, I hold his crayon-filled fist and together we draw two wheels, the bottom, and a front and back bumper. He narrates each part as our car begins to take shape. If he had his wish, we would repeat this 5,000 times per night, using every color in the box.

One night I asked him to try the top of the car himself. "Just connect one bumper to the other one. Up and over. See? Like this.":

His response was the sweetest, most humble and mildly embarassed, "Mom, I can't do it."

But by the next night, he found the courage to try, as long as the tip of my pointer finger touched the end of the crayon for moral support:(The second one down, he declared, is a "race car!" Indeed.)

By tonight, he is a pro.
Together we draw the wheels, the bottom, and the bumpers.
Then he draws the top and says (even on the 20th victory) "[gasp!] I did it! Look!"
And then, with nested hands, we add the windows.

There is nothing in the caterpillar that tells you it's going to be a butterfly.

let yourself feel. from Esteban Diácono on Vimeo.

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star.

Burn down your bridges.

Think outside the box.

Let yourself feel.

Jeter Junior

I suppose, after all the money I spent in New York, I can't complain about Steve HAVING to buy Carter an official (no street vendors, it had to be legit, apparently) Yankees jersey. I'm seriously not even going to tell you the price because you don't deserve to snort whatever you're drinking out your nose - I realize that's a very uncomfortable thing to do, especially when it's on accident.

Steve explained to Carter, "I got you a Derek Jeter shirt because Jeter's not a cheater." And then he went on to tell Carter about the dangers and ethical ramifications of steroids while Carter looked at him with knowing eyes, and then at the end he said in the most reassuring tone, "that's right, Dad. Nice job."

So here he is:

New York City

Quite a long while back, when my friend Natasha started massage school, she and her husband, James, came to us to inform us we were accompanying them to NYC the day after she graduated. The second they mentioned it, we were in. It seems like just yesterday we were shopping airline tickets, etc. (we planned and paid for everything 6-9 months ago) and now the whole trip has come and gone so quickly.

These are completely out of order, but here are some highlights:



Steve and I won Yankee tix on eBay (I hate how it's normal to say you've "won" something on eBay, because these tickets were incredibly far from free). It was an amazing game - Yankees swept the Red Sox. If you know me at all, you know I care very little about sports. But even I couldn't deny the excitement of being in that stadium, witnessing the biggest rivalry in sports first hand. For a split second, I could almost picture myself getting in to baseball. That second has now passed, but I'm pretty confident I could conjure it back up in the future if needed. That was really, really fun.



This is James and Natasha, underground... below what I will henceforth and forevermore call Natasha's Happy Place: China Town. The woman can shop. The end.



My husband is a hot chocolate connoisseur. Here he is drinking Max Brenner's hot chocolate (for breakfast! Travesty.) in one of their famous "hug mugs". He shall now require a set of them in his Christmas stocking; please note, Santa.



This would be the pictorial verdict of said Max Brenner hot chocolate (for breakfast! Travesty.) Steve's words, "You can slice it!"



Natasha and I in Central Park. Can I please take another weekend just to play in this park? It was gorgeous, and I really wasn't able to enjoy it as much as I should because Canal Street and Little Italy took everything I had. Or, I should say, everything my feet had. Very upsetting when you want to do so much more, but your feet and legs hurt so bad from walking miles and miles whilst hauling approx 400 extra pounds on your butt.



Us in Central Park, trying really hard to smile through the foot-pain. I think Steve was doing much better than me at this point, though.



We decided to wait on buying Broadway tickets, knowing we'd be able to stand in line at a TKTS booth to get them cheaper. After just a few minutes in line, we got in to Mary Poppins for $85 bucks or so, which is about 40% off. Mary Poppins wasn't on the top of my list, (even though it's one of my favorite classic Disneys) but I was very surprised at how great it was. Disney knows how to do Broadway. It was a musical and a magic show all in one. The casting was brilliant. My only complaint is that one of my favorite songs from Mary Poppins, Stay Awake, was entirely left out for the Broadway rendition. It's the song I have sung to Carter almost every night since the day he was born, so I was really excited to hear it. Poo.


As close as we got to The Lady. She wasn't our top priority, so we just snapped a few far away shots while on the ferry to Staten Island.

The food was fab, the shopping was glorious, and the people-watching couldn't be better in any other corner of the planet. I am now five handbags richer. And p.s. - one of them is a diaper bag. But that means entirely NOTHING. Other than Isabella Fiore designs a delicious diaper bag and I couldn't leave 5th ave without one. Amen.

And it's kind of pink, which also means nothing at all.