Happy birthday, my partner in crime

I write oodles about my little guy here, but today it's my big guy's turn--today is his 37th birthday. We've been inseparable for 13 years. Married for seven of those years. We've known each other since the seventh grade. Grew up in the same town, went to the same schools, knew the same people. I guess you could call ours a typical small-town love story. But it's ours. And I love it.

So although Brett may not appear much on this blog, I thought I'd share a few photos of him to show you who else hears the Jackspeaks firsthand, who's keeping up with Jack's messes while I'm sewing, who loves us, who we love.

The guy I fell for . . .

Happy (and so hot!).

Hippie.

Hiking.

Hitched.

And with the guy he fell for . . .

In the park.

In the pumpkin patch.

In outer space.

In love.

Happy birthday, Bretty. As a husband and a daddy and a daddy to be, we love you.

ALERT: Jackspeak

A few days ago Jack went out with Grandma for an ice-cream date. She also swung by the local grocery store with him for a special toy treat--a pack of five superhero cars. The next morning, after lining his new cars up on the couch . . .

Jack: "Mommy, will the toys that Grandma gave me break?"

Me: "Why do you think they would break?"

"Because they are made of glass."

"Your new cars? They aren't made of glass."

"Oh, right. They're made of toys."

Compromised valentines

Jack has a Valentine's Day preschool party today. His first! We talked about what kind of valentines he would like to give his classmates. We had decided on something simple, like this:

Then Jack and I went to the grocery store together.

At the store I accidentally turned down an aisle I had purposely avoided for at least a month--the Valentine's Day aisle. Right there, at a three-year-old's eye level, was a bombardment of boxed valentines for kids. And guess what? They had SUPERHERO valentines! Why tell someone you care in your own words when you can let Spidey, Ironman, and the Incredible Hulk do the talking? So warm and fuzzy.

After further negotiation, Jack and I compromised:

The boxed valentines didn't come with envelopes (grrr!) so I made another trip to the store to buy some. After Jack decorated the envelopes with heart stickers, I asked him if he wanted me to write a special message to his classmates on the envelopes.

"Yes," he said. "Happy Balemtimes Day I love you."

Hmm. Guess superheroes DO have warm and fuzzy spots after all.

Happy Balemtimes Day, everyone!

ALERT: Jackspeak

Sitting down to a grumpily made, makeshift dinner for two around 7 p.m., consisting of egg noodles with peas and parmesan, green beans, and toasted wheat bagels with butter.

Jack: "Mommy, this dinner is delicious."

Me: "I thought it was kind of a weird combination. But thanks, hon."

"It's so delicious. AND it's so tasty, too."

"Well, thanks."

"It's so, so tasty. It's like, it's like . . . it's like Christmas dinner!"

Sometimes three-year olds sure do know how to turn a frown upside down.

31 weeks . . . and tired of counting

Jack and Tie-Dye, from my point of view.

Nine weeks to go (or less? or more?) until we meet Tie-Dye. It's never been truer for me--the waiting is the hardest part.

On the creative front, I attempted to sew a new quilt block this week. Tried. But these days, making quilts feels like tackling the preparation of a seven-course meal. The fridge, the stove, the oven, the microwave, the cutting board--aaah, wait! The drinks, the dishes! Too many steps. The rotary cutter, the iron, the sewing machine, the broken thread, the empty bobbin, the color choices--aaah, wait! The getting up and moving from one workstation to another! Too much. Too many steps for my worn-out body and my molten-muddy mind.

Mostly, it's the moving. I no longer wish to move. After now-countless moments of embarrassing myself with unrestrained grunts and groans each time I rise from the couch, I told my husband to duct tape a beach ball to his front and seven yardsticks to his back, vertically from neck to butt. "Now," I dared (in my bizarre verbal fantasy), "Sit down and stand up. Ha! That would be hard, wouldn't it?"

Brett calmly came back with something like, "Yes, honey, that would be hard. I can't imagine." And what else--aside from rushing out to buy beach balls and yardsticks--could he come back with?

If I put all the crankiness and oh-poor-me venting aside, I am left with a feeling of general restlessness. I need something to DO. Usually, I would quilt. That's not working for me right now. So I borrowed a keeping-hands-busy idea from a woman who writes one of my favorite blogs, Soulemama. Check out the link and you'll see where I'm going:

Jack's latest art. Yes, you guessed it--they are superheroes.

The Soulemama link above leads to a simple embroidery-project idea that seems oh-so satisfying to me. Transfer Jack's drawings to fabric and start stitching. I told Jack about the idea. He's in. He wants me to sew pockets with his embroidered drawings onto his "feety jammies." Done. Jack gets a homegrown superhero on his teddy-bear laden pj's, and I get to sit. And sit some more. Fulfill my ache to create on a small scale. And sit some more.

Oh, sweet couch. How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.
I shall revel in you (well, on you) each and every day
Until little Tie-Dye's upcoming birthday.