Not to brag but...

... How did we get SO lucky?


Blessed, more like it. I thank God for these three every day. Nevermind the recession, or the fact that I have not slept past 6am for the last six years. Or the stretch marks. Or the crayon and pencil marks on the sofa and walls. The 2am emergency room huddles are a distant memory when I look at these three.


Ah, how do I love thee (Numero Uno, Monkey boy and La Principessa?)

Let me count the ways.

You are all so alike, yet so different. You feed off each other and make the puzzle complete and perfect. The Trifecta.



You blow my mind (and my eardrums at times). Never mind that, though - hearing is overrated.

Thank you Lord, for these ones! I cannot believe that I got to do this thrice!

loving my 3 musketeers, pp

And just because...

...She's so sweet! I offer you my gratuitous post of the month. I know, she's adorable.


Introducing 'La Principessa'. She rocks our world and she doesn't even know it. Perfection, I tell ya. Yum. We're SO glad that you're ours!
Sugar n Spice et al, PP

If you could walk in my Uggs...

You would know how in awe I am of this wonderful God, our creator, who formed me and my little boys in utero and pronounced us, good to go. And wonderfully and fearfully made. And beautiful and perfect. This God who knows our end from our beginning, who calls us by name knew that the day would come when I would- frustrated, at the end of my pregnancy, start this here blog - and continue the blog after the birth of my little 'monkey boy' and said 'monkey boy' would have eight sharp teeth and smiles and hair for days, plus a truly engaging personality and that he would turn one and he would along with his brother, be my pride and joy.

So thank you God Almighty. And thank you readers of this blog. And Happy One year anniversary to us. And please God let Monkey Boy be walking by his birthday - I don't know why it bugs me that he's not, but it does.

eternally grateful to God, pp

It ain't over till the stuffed sheep 'baas'...

...Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! I have been on a hiatus and I have missed you. but I have been enjoying the holiday season with my little men, and I tell you what, Christmas from their wee perspectives is all too special. The highlight of the season for Monkey Boy was the Christmas tree lights and for Numero Uno son - the plugging in the lights into the socket - which of course, he was forbidden to do, but did with aplomb, anyway.

But both of them just adored the singing (or rather 'baaing') stuffed sheep ornament I bought from Target years ago, for Numero Uno son's first Christmas. You press his stomach and he baas 'We wish you a merry Christmas.' So of course we would sojourn to the tree at least twice a day and listen to him, baaing encore after encore while the boys rocked out. And I do mean MAJOR dancing - until weary, I was able to drag them away. And after it all - get this- Monkey Boy would actually say 'Yay!' and clap his chubby little hands. A standing ovation for the singing sheep! I can take it, the cuteness of those boys. Now those are the memories holidays are made of.

Mazeltov! pp

Who's Afraid Of The Big Bad Monkey Boy?

I am. Very much so. In a' pee in my pants', immature kind of way. The phenomenon known as MB crawls at the speed of light now - in this bizarre, sitting yet crawling, crab-like manner. So weird that I am fascinated by it and I sit there staring and bam! he's tugging at my pants leg or hair (depending on if I'm sitting on the floor or standing) or necklace, or earrings (ouch) and with a vise like grip hoisting himself up. Yes, the MB doth stand. On bow legged but sturdy legs. I actually thought he would be one of those babies that didn't crawl and just got up and walked. Cause from like four months, he would try to 'stand' and yell bloody murder if you dared try to sit him down. The result is that we might have a very bow legged little boy (it's true, not just an old wife's tale - a doctor confirmed this, so there) . And/or some kind of gymnast on our hands. He does these perfect little (unintentional) splits when he's been standing for too long and cannot for the life of him figure out how to sit down. Sometimes I just watch him. Just out of pure malice. Gotcha Monkeylicious. That'll teach you to be so freakishly strong. Which he is. His bites (with just two of the most impossibly teeny teeth you have ever seen in your life) actually bring tears to his Daddy's eyes. Numero Uno son is already telling on MB for wresting a lollipop from him. {Side note: How does an eight month old best a three year old in a 'snatch and grab' fight? I say MB won it fair and square. Go ahead then, boy.} I pride myself on training my babies to sleep in their cribs by three/four months of age. With MB? You guessed it - he has broken me. You can hear his bellows through closed doors and without a monitor. And our rooms are not that close. But gosh darn it, how I love that MB. (In spite of all the abuse.) But I am totally scared of the child.

Mr. Egghead/ Ma Pauvre Bebe

My poor monkeyboy. Fell forward in his bumbo seat when he was trying to get a toy and bumped his head on our extremely hard stone kitchen tile. Ouchhhhh! Thankfully, the seat was on the floor, so he didn't have far to fall - but still ouchie! The poor thing was such a trooper and was playing happily again within minutes. His bump was iced and he seemed okay. Fast forward to two days later- the bump just grew 4 times larger and was soft and puffy to the touch. Before you could say 'ER', we were there - with bells on. I was, to put it mildly, in a tizzy. What if he had like a concussion or something? Or internal bleeding? Because obviously, some kind of fluid was collecting under his skin and the fact that he was acting like his normal self scared me even more. Surely that meant he had something 'not good' going on internally, poor baby. But long story short, he had a CT scan and he was fine- not a fracture (thank God) but a contusion which is a bad bruise under the skin. The Doctor casually told me that it would go in two or three weeks. Weeks? Oh no! To be honest, his 'new face' freaked me out a bit. It was oddly misshapen and warped on one side, like he was staring into one of those funny mirrors at the circus. I wanted my MB back! And we traipsed through airports to Paris and back, Mr. Egghead in tow, people looking at him, curious but most too polite to ask, and suddenly it was gone. Poof! Just like that. Now we weren't sure if it was really truly gone or if we had just gotten used to it. But it really has. In three weeks, just like the doctor said. I have my adorable Monkeyboy back! But here's a picture (in the third week, so you can imagine how HUGE it was initially) just so I always remember how grateful I should be for his beautiful monkeyface and more important, health. Viola...

I 'heart' Scott Baio

I have been watching way too much TV since I have all this time on my hands. I mean, I'm a reality TV junkie on any given day, but I'm now into EXTREME midnight reality TV marathons. So I have been watching the most random shows that I can find between 12 and 3 am. 'Scott Baio is 46 and pregnant' (on VH1) has been a favorite these days, along with 'The Salt n Pepa show' and quite a few others. Maybe it's the hormones, but there is something about this middle aged italian-american, former chronic bachelor that I find strangely appealing. He just seems like someone I would have had a crush on in say, grade school. I always went for the quirky types back then. Um, yeah, we'll chalk it down to lack of sleep.

Miracles do happen. I don't care if you believe me or not, but I have to put the word out just in case there's someone out there hoping for one. My darling sister-friend has had huge tumors in her lungs for over a year now and no chemo or radiography treatment was shrinking it so the doctors could not operate. Alot of good people and churches had been praying for and with her for a while, but the situation just never seemed to be getting better in the physical. But two days ago, God showed up. Hello! She went for her checkup and the doctors told her the tumors are rapidly shrinking. The keyword here is RAPIDLY. It's hard to understand if you didn't know her, or have never battled something like this, when modern medicine and treatment seems futile, but I feel like I am speaking to someone reading this today. God hears. God listens. God heals. God answers prayers. Praise God! Yup, I'm testifyin', y'all.

ps I have lost 1 pound. No, I'm not kidding. I need an intervention people!

muuah! pp