And If You Do...

I'm not sure at what age these children begin to put 2 and 2 together, but for Reeves, it happened a while ago, and he has now mastered the technique. This is good and bad (but mostly good). On one hand, I can tell Reeves that after he takes his nap, we will go to the beach. This is good. He immediately and happily goes down and sleeps for at least two hours. When he wakes up, he remembers and wants to put on his bathing suit. On the other hand, I can't always make the promise of a trip to the beach as a definite reward for taking a nap. This is bad. Needless to say, Reeves was initially less than enthusiastic about taking his nap on Sunday, but with visions of the beach running through his head, he drifted right off. Once up, he and I headed out. He loved it. I loved it. Other than the mud bank of the gully, it could not have been better - except that B had to volunteer out at the Senior PGA and couldn't join us. We really missed him. Reeves would ask for him from time to time, and I hated telling him that we would have to see Daddy at home, that he couldn't come to the beach this day.
He insisted on bringing his baseball glove with us, worn on the wrong hand, of course, and for the entire trip to the beach, down the path, over the dunes, until I pulled out the kite.He loved flying it, except that he couldn't look at it as it was right in front of the sun. I pulled him on the boogie board. He was a bit nervous on it in the water, but balanced himself quite well. He loved when I would pull him on the sand, and while his 25 pounds may not be much for his age, it seems to increase exponentially with each lap up and down the gully. We even swam across the gully to play in the waves. I'm not sure I have ever seen the child so excited! I, who am a pretty laid back mom, actually got nervous as he showed absolutely no fear. If I had let him, he would have been halfway to the jetties. And then, there's nothing better than being pulled back, salty, sandy, and wet, in the wagon. I wish I could tell him how much he should relish these times of being waited on hand and foot, and get him to truly appreciate them because it won't be long before he'll be complaining about how hot and tired and sticky he is, and how the sand or the road is so hot and hard on his feet, and the bag is so heavy, and why does he have to be the one to carry all this stuff? Or was that just me?
Monday, just to test again whether or not this nap motivation truly worked, I told him, at the Bair's that if he took his nap, we would go in the boat when he woke up. Worked like a charm. He went right down, only to wake up nearly three hours later with "bo-at, bo-at" dripping from his lips. I'm glad we were able to oblige. Wish we could do it everyday.

Saving the Environment, One Mommy at a Time

I'm giving up. I no longer wish to be a member of the car driving elite. I'm not meant to be. Don't get me wrong. I love it. It's just that it doesn't love me. Or at least the cars I drive don't love me. Maybe I'm too aggressive, but I believe assertive is the correct term. Maybe I don't give them enough maintenance, but that can't be the case as they keep asking (demanding) that I take them to the shop. Maybe they don't like the perpetual coat of dirt that is on them, but I like to think of it as a reinforced safety cage, further protecting me and my family. Whatever the reason, I have come to the realization that I am not meant to use a combustible engine for my personal means of transportation.
We got the Volvo last April. It has, so far, won the Lemon Award for the Bair family. We have had to put nearly as much as we paid for it into it in the past year. It's never anything major, just a little oil leak, which happens to be located in the exact center of the engine, and of course everything needs to be removed to get to it. So frustrating. We got all new tires for the car, and the ceiling fabric fell down. It's just been that kind of relationship. You give and give and give, and it just keeps taking.
So we decided to move on to greener and bigger pastures. I'm not a fan of getting a new (to us) car at least once a year, but that seems to be the path we are on right now. With Duece on the way, we went the route of the minivan, much to the dismay of some of our single friends. Whatever! I love it! The doors are automatic. With the push of a button, I can begin cooling the car off before we even walk out the door. Reeves can climb in all by himself - all the way into his seat. And he actually enjoys this. There is no bending over to latch him in. It is truly a life saver for me. Let's just say this pregnancy is not as comfortable as the first one was.
I love my minivan. I hope it is learning to love me. But I don't think so. Not long into our relationship, the MAINT REQD light came on. It's a lovely shade of orange, but I'm not inherently a Clemson fan, so it doesn't warm my heart every time I see it. (For the record, I still need to take it to the shop, just trying to find the time.) Then two weeks ago, as I approached the car from the passenger side, which I apparently rarely do, I noticed that the rear passenger tire had about 3 PSI in it. Great! So I limped to a gas station to put air in it. No probs. Took it to Hay (which is where the tires had previously been serviced). It had a screw in it. They plugged it - for $17 dollars! (Gerald's generally does this for free. Not going back to Hay.) But it was fixed, and all was well - for a few days.
Sunday, I headed out to find Gerbera Daisies. None at HD, none at Lowe's, none at that place in the parking lot on Wappoo, none at Kmart. I figured I'd stop by the Super Wally. Of course, they had them. Frustrated that they were at my last stop and at the place that happened to be closest to my house, but nonetheless excited that I had actually found them, I loaded up and headed home. Here I was, no baby, feeling so good I could have easily forgotten I was pregnant, beautiful day, windows down, radio on. Suddenly, a noise that did not come from the radio. And then, the tell-tale sound of a totally deflated tire thumping down the road. Pulled over. The tire, for which I had just paid $17 to plug, had just been sliced by something in the road, less than a mile from my house. Typical. Bryant and Reeves came to rescue me. Benjamin, who was selling veggies out of the back of his truck lent me his tire iron. (He also sold the best boiled peanuts I have had in a long time. We will definitely be visiting him again.) The outcome was fine, but it was just one more thing. And it totally threw off the productivity we had going in the yard at home. Off to Gerald's first thing Monday morning. $96 later, my minivan, which I have had for about a month, now has a brand new tire.
I'm seriously thinking about just getting a couple of horses and a carriage. I think it's a win/win situation. No need to buy two more carseats as I'm pretty certain they are not a requirement on a buggy. No more yard mowing. We'll just let the horses take care of that, along with the fertilizing. Toys for the kids? Saddles! Crops! Gas prices? Who cares, as long as hay doesn't go up, I'm fine! And I can sleep well at night, knowing my own personal carbon footprint is much smaller than it would have been. I think Al Gore would be proud of me.

Tomato Pie Update

So, since the flavor of the pie (I use the term loosely) was super rich, of course, we couldn't eat a lot of it. I had it for lunch the next day - pretty good heated up in the microwave. We had it for supper that night - really good reheated in the pie pan in the oven at 350 for, eh, like an hour of so, served with leftover ham. The ham went great with the pie. At this point, I could eat no more of this neverending pie, but there was one serving left. Let me tell you, this pie, which is at this point more of a sauce, made a delicious topper for to Bryant's burger last night. No bun, just the meat and the pie. Along with some garlic sauteed green beans, I counted myself quite the HollyHomemaker last night. Of course, I had yogurt. Some nights this baby just doesn't care for a full on dinner.
So tonight? Who knows. The dinner possibilities are endless, but I can assure you, there will be no cheese, mayonnaise, or tomatoes on either of our plates!

First Taste of Summer

So, I made a tomato pie last night. I had some cheese that needed to get eaten. I had bought tomatoes from Costco last week, and I had just two weeks ago thrown away rotten tomatoes from my last Costco run. Determined to learn from my mistakes and make better use of household finances, I decided not to let these go to waste. So anyway, since all I needed to buy was a pie crust, I thought a tomato pie would be a great idea. (Those of you who are right now pointing out that I probably did have flour and eggs and butter in the house, and most likely a pie plate, so why not just make the crust myself? Well, I may be good, but I ain't THAT good!) It is almost summer, and fresh tomatoes are one of the best things about summer.
I got home, got all my ingredients together, prepped everything, and assembled my pie. Just the sight of the unbaked pie was making my mouth water. When Bryant got home, he put it in the oven. Oh my, how delicious it made the house smell! We had our time with Reeves, put him down, and pulled out the pie. It looked even better than before. We were so excited! And then I cut (read: tried to cut) into it. I might have gone just a bit overboad with the cheese and mayo mixture. It was more like we were having tomato and cheese chowder, but WAY thicker. Luckily, neither B nor I are sticklers for a food's appearance, as long as we know what went into it. So we spooned out tomato mixture onto our plates. I chopped up some more tomatoes just to compensate for the massive amount of cheesy goodness.
In the end, it all worked out fine, but I am a bit disappointed in myself. I have never been a big "by the recipe" follower in the kitchen, but today, after looking over some tomato pie recipes, I realize that although my ingredients were spot on, my proportions were hopelessly out of whack. Well, that, and I now realize I was supposed to bake the pie crust before filling it. But I know now, and I'll just have to keep practicing. Shouldn't be hard as long as my tomato plants start producing soon. (Fingers crossed.)
One thing this did make me think of was, of course, Reeves. (Funny how almost anything can make you think of your children.) Bryant asked me if there was a way to make it so that Reeves could have it. I suppose I could try. I would have to use soy mayo and soy cheese, and it could work. But then aren't you taking away two of the three things that make this pie so delicious? If I were Reeves, I think I would rather just have a fresh tomato, thanks. I hope he grows out of this allergy thing. I can't imagine that he will go through his life without ever knowing the goodness that is tomato pie - even if his mother can't make a pie that actually cuts into pieces.

699 Days

Here we are. I can't believe it. The last post to you before you turn 2 years old. How did 23 whole months pass in the blink of an eye? So much has changed since you barrelled your way into our lives that short time ago, and, my son, so much is getting ready to change for you in the next few months. I like to refer to you as my "Almost Two Year Old" because 23 months just seems like so formal an age, and also because it blows my mind when you are referred to as two. It can't possibly be that I am the mother of a two year old! So, for the next 31 days, you are my Almost Two Year Old. Although you may be Almost Two, you are certainly 100% all BOY. There isn't a day that goes by that you are not playing with your bats and balls or pointing out big diggers and cranes or building tracks for your trains. You seem to have a knack for sports. T-ball has come quite easily for you. You are perfectly content for what seems like hours to be putting the ball on the T and knocking it off, putting it on and knocking it off, and so on and so on. As a bit of an anal retentive type, I notice that your hands are way too close together when you swing. I have tried to show you how to hold the bat properly, but you continue to hold it your way, and this is when I have to remind myself that you are not even two, and it's pretty amazing that you're doing even what you're doing. For some reason, you prefer to hit a golf ball rather than your baseball off the T. We're not sure why this is, but one night as we were all playing in the backyard, you made a little piece of my heart tingle with pride. Your father and I noticed that each time you would put the golfball on top of the T, you sould spin it ever so carefully so that the writing would be at the very top. Your father couldn't understand this, but he knew it must be something you have gotten from me. It is. Each time I would shoot a free throw in basketball, I would dribble three times, then spin the ball in my hands so that I was holding it exactly the same way each time. Same thing with serving in tennis. Maybe it's anal retention, or maybe it's just one of those silly sports superstitions, but whatever it is, you've got it, so I'm sure as soon as you win your first game, we'll all have to wear the same outfits we were wearing at that game. And I can't wait.
Much to the delight of your cousin, Miller, you seem to be excelling in your soccer ability as well. After you tired of T-ball, you immediately turned your attention to your soccer ball. We are so impressed with how well you kick the ball, whether from standing still or while running. It is a rare occurrence that you will trip over it, although you will need to work on understanding the rules of the game because I'm pretty sure you aren't allowed as many handballs as you like to think. But again, you're only Almost Two, so we're still impressed. We caught the very tail end of Miller's BE state championship game in Columbia on Saturday. I think you were almost as excited about his medal as he was.
You have become, you think, quite the little helper in the yard. Whenever I rake, you insist that I pull out a rake for you to use too, and not the rake that Daddy bought specifically for you. Oh no. You need a full size rake, just like the one I am using. This way, you can spread out the pile of leaves almost as quickly as I can build it up. We're a good team if success is measured on the principle of digging a hole only to fill it right back up. But don't worry, as long as you continue to delight in running through my piles of leaves or spreading them out with a rake three times your size, I'll keep raking them up for you because your smile makes us smile, and it's hard to say no when you're so happy.
You continue to communicate more and more each day, but I can't really say that it is with actual words. Sometimes I find myself worrying about this, but you do understand everything so well, and you do communicate in your own way so I then stop worrying. Your doctor says that her children didn't really start talking till they were two, and you are, after all, only Almost Two. And, given the track record of your Pops, you've got another four years to go before we need to get worried. We do find it amusing that one of the words you say quite well is "boat", and while your lack of speech to this point may be attributable to your Pops, your pronunciation of the few words you have mastered is certainly due to the time you spend around your Grandy. From your mouth, "boat" has a minimum of two, and sometimes three, syllables. Clearly, you are carrying on the Reeves Bair, Geechee accent tradition. Personally, I think that's great. Television has zapped too many local accents, so carry on with your thick tongue!
We are half-heartedly working on weening you off of your pacifier. You don't need it, and unless you are in a terribly bad mood or it is bedtime, we don't give it to you. We thought we were being so smart by not mentioning it so as not to remind you of it, so we would start spelling it, P-A-C-I. You're smarter than we think. You are now calling it your P-A, P-A. I swear, if you learn to spell before we have time to even stop accidentally saying certain off color words around you, I don't know what we'll do. You certainly keep us on our toes and remind us everyday that you learn by watching and listening to us. I suppose I should mention the white elephant in this post, the thing that is about to rock your world - your new sibling who will be arriving at the end of the summer, but I'm not really ready for that yet. This is your post, your last Almost Two post, and suffice it to say that you are very aware that the baby is in my tummy, but I think we could have trained you to say that there is a pot roast in my tummy, and you will still be just as surprised when we come home from the hospital with this little bundle of joy. You're just a little too young to grasp what's getting ready to happen, and that's OK with us because we know when the time comes, you're going to be a wonderful big brother. You absolutely made my Mother's Day yesterday - which is, after all, your sole responsibility on that day. After church, Daddy went out to be with his mother, and you and Gams and I went to Big Laura and Rod's. You put on quite the show and loved on everyone there. Lucky for you, Reagan had come to town, and you got to sit in her lap as you ate your lunch. You quite impressed her with your strawberry eating ability. You only ate one cap, but you were sure to wipe your hands after each bite. You particularly enjoyed that I let you play in the rain as much as you wanted. Of course, as a true boy, you found the one spot of dirt in the yard and tried to spend as much time there as possile. Daddy really needs to polish your saddle-oxs. As wonderful as you were to me all day and all night, I think it was your Uncle Andy whose day/week/month you truly made. After playing your heart out with anyone who would be in the yard with you, I brought you in, changed you into dry clothes, and put you on Andy's lap on the sofa. You looked at him, put your head on his shoulder, and fell sound asleep for an hour and a half. It isn't often that you slow down enough to snuggle on people, and the fact that you did this to him made him one of the happiest people yesterday.
In the true spirit of a "Reeves Update", I must mention that you did have a first this weekend. Saturday night, right before bath, during your naked dance time, you pulled your little stool right up to the potty, stood on it, and did your thing - all on your own. It was amazing. Again, I don't think it's a dive headfirst into full blown potty training, but it's a step. Daddy and I were so proud of you, since you're only Almost Two. I suppose I've been a bit long winded on this post, but I think this is just a preview of what's to come this next month. Can we just make it go on a little longer? Can we hold off on turning two for a few more months. You are such a blessing to your father and me. You have changed our lives in ways you will never begin to imagine until you have a child of your own. We are fascinated daily by you and find ourselves happy just to be watching you do the things you do. We love you more and more each day, Monkey Man.

Hold me!

This little boy made my day this morning. He was 100% a momma's boy. Didn't want me to get in the shower. Wanted me to lie in bed with him and Daddy. When I held him, he held me back even harder with both his arms and his legs, hugging me and patting me on the back. I don't know what makes him like this from time to time. I think it's just one of the little extras God throws in as a reward for parenting. But it sure makes it hard to have to leave him in the mornings.

Nighttime is Daddy's time. We have quite the routine, and Reeves never goes to bed without his Daddy-time. At night, I'm just the meanie who puts him to bed - which lasts till the beginning of the hallway, at which time he curls up in my arms and gets ready to say prayers. Children are a blessing, but I think children who go to bed easily are an extra belssing. We'll see how this goes when he moves into his big boy bed!

I am counting the minutes till we go get him today.

For The Birds

Our back porch is alive with wildlife. This nest, which I thought the mother had abandoned, has become home to two little whatever-these-kind-of-birds-are. I'm not a huge fan of animals on the porch, but Reeves loves the birds and looks for them points to them each time we enter and exit. And yes, those are Christmas lights still up. I had to leave them because the mother bird couldn't have gotten the nest to stay up there otherwise. I love that you can see the fuzzy feathers on top of the babies heads.

Another Journey Begins...

On occasion, Bryant and I shoot pictures at weddings. I always stress out about them beforehand. The pressure really builds up in me. This is THE day; there is only one shot at this. It's not like taking children's pictures where, if the camera breaks, or the pictures get deleted, or some other horrible thing happens, you can always just redo them. This is the wedding day. This will never happen again. You don't have a second chance at these pictures. Luckily, Bryant is a good yin for my yang. While there are many types of projects on which we don't work well together, we always manage to bring out the best in each other when doing weddings together. Bryant is a wonderful wedding director, and this Saturday was no exception. He ran the show like a pro. Everyone, including me, was looking to him for direction, and the wedding and reception came off perfectly. I am so proud of him.
Despite the stress and exhaustion doing these weddings cause us (and Judy - thank you for watching Reeves for us!), I ultimately do enjoy doing them. It is fun to be around people on one of the happiest days of their lives. It is interesting and inspiring to see how different weddings are decorated and which caterers are the best. It is also very poignant and touching to listen to the homilies and exchange a silent, knowing glance with your own husband when the minister speaks of loving each other through good times and bad, and learning to apologize and forgive each other, and revisiting in your mind the vows you took all those years ago. Sometimes in the hustle and bustle of everyday life, we forget how we felt on our own BIG DAY. It's nice to watch as two other people start their journey together and remember how far you and yours have come.
But what really got me this weekend, in addition to the homily, was the father/daughter dance. I don't know whether it's because I am pregnant or because I'm a daughter or because maybe I'm getting ready to have a daughter, but this dance got me. They danced to I Loved Her First. Here is the chorus for those of you, like me, who have never heard it.

"But I loved her first and I held her first

And a place in my heart will always be hers

From the first breath she breathed

When she first smiled at me

I knew the love of a father runs deep

And I prayed that she'd find you someday

But it still hard to give her away

I loved her first"

Wow! I can't even imagine what it must be like to watch your child get married. I'm tearing up just reading these lyrics. Needless to say, I had to keep my eye up to the viewfinder and keep taking pictures because I couldn't let people see that I was crying more than even the mother of the bride! The thought of Bryant going through this as father of the bride is almost more than I can bear, and I know that when and if the time comes, our little girl will have to give him a nudge to get him down the aisle just like I had to do to my dad.

Pardon the Interruption

What a delinquent blogger I have been. My only excuse is that I am sick as a dog! I absolutely despise warm weather colds, and this is one of the worst I can remember. It keeps me up at night coughing. I can't breathe through my nose, and breathing through my mouth tickles my throat and makes me cough more, and coughing makes my head hurt more. It's a delightfully vicious circle. On a positive note, the raging battle that has been going on in my head has completely taken my mind off the discomfort that this pregnancy is causing me. It's just like the Reverend Mother says, "Where the Lord closes a door, somewhere he opens a window."

Yes, The Sound of Music is still at the top of the request list...

Lake Burton

Last weekend, Bryant and I loaded up the minivan (that's right, we took the plunge and are loving it!), and headed to Bopper and Becky's. Bopper is Reeves' godfather. From there, we all drove to their mountain house on Lake Burton in northeast Georgia. I had never even heard of this place, and I can only say that it was amazing! The house is built on the mountain a bit more than 400 feet above the level of the lake. This is the view of the house when you drive up, and then it just falls away down the back. you would never know it.Apparently you can see the mountains of Georgia and South and North Carolina from here. It was an amazing view.

Bopper's youngest child, and only girl, is Madeline, who is 4 months older than Reeves. It was so much fun watching the two of them play together. I wish we could have stayed longer because when we had to leave, they were really starting to warm up to each other.Unfortunately for us parents, most of that warming up took place on the most dangerous place on the property - this path that ran in front of the down-mountain side of the house between the bottom deck and the driveway. Why are children so attracted to places that make my fear of heights rise to the surface? I let Bryant do most of the chasing on those little toddler jaunts. I much preferred to be responsible for them in the security of the only-one-exit porch.

On the other hand, it took Reeves all of about 2 seconds to warm up to Knox and Riley, Bopper's two boys. Reeves thought he was in hog heaven palling around with these two big guys. I love to see how he is fascinated by older kids. He was happy to be doing anything with them, whether it was running behind them as they rollerbladed down the driveway or just sitting beside them watching the TV.

It was actually quite cold when we were there. There is a neverending breeze (wind) that blows and we had to bundle the little ones up when they insisted on going outside in the morning.Reeves got his first taste of Oreo cookies and instantly fell in love. I had no idea he would even be able to eat them, but according to the label, there is no milk or egg in them, and judging by his non-reaction, it must be true. Luckily for us, he hasn't remembered how much he likes these cookies. I do not like the thought of black Oreo cookie all over everything!Here are Bopper and Bryant across the lake from the house. It's that small dark spot right above the middle of their heads. It is hard to determine just how high up you are when you are standing on the porches, although the teeny-tinyness of the boats in the lake does give some indication. This is a nice perspective of seeing where we had been. Unfortunately, it was on our way home, but we look forward to more trips to this amazing house.