Cupcakes rule (yes, A's cheap and easy birthday party was a success)

We came. We sang.

They ate.



And played.

And those threatening clouds behind these water-pistol toting mamas? Fuggetaboutit.

Happy 2nd Birthday, A

Two years ago today I finished 25 hours of labor and met you, my second born. I've treasured your babyhood, not only because you were a good baby, because I was confident you'd be my last. I loved wearing you, nursing you, rocking you and watching you watch your big sister with those big brown eyes.

It's a cliche to say that my love for you has grown as you've grown, but it's true. You were a sweet baby, yes, but you're such a fabulous little kid! I love listening to you talk. Your speaking skills have evolved from caveman-speak to full, 90 percent lucid sentences in a matter of a couple of months. You'll be speaking at Toastmasters events in no time.

You love doll babies and doll baby accessories, Little People, other kids and Caillou. What is it with little kids and Caillou? You get excited about trips to the pool, the park and the zoo, shouting "I ready! Let's go now!"

While your enthusiasm for all things continues to skyrocket (bedtime and diaper changes excepted), your palate has diminished. Instead of eagerly wolfing down whatever is put in front of you, you ask for waffles, pizza, meatballs, bananas and applesauce. And snacks. You would happily subsist on a diet of chips, raisins, Trader Joe's fruit bars and cookies. You see food on my plate and demand "I want dat. Own plate!" only to take a closer look at the food and declare, "No, dat's yucky. No want dat."

You're still a good sleeper, going down between 7 and 7:30 and waking up after 6am. You've surprised us with a couple of pee-pees in the potty this week, but you're more interested in stripping down naked than getting potty trained.

Your favorite books change from week to week, but right now you're a huge fan of Caillou books and the new board books Nanny brought: No No Yes Yes and Binky.

We're celebrating the big 0-2 with a low-key party at a local park. At least, that's the idea. I emailed some friends and neighbors and told them to meet us at the playground to play and eat cupcakes. I'm not planning any games or hiring any entertainers. But as the responses came back I realized I'll need 44 cupcakes. Parents and their 2.5 kids, they add up fast.

Weekend update

In addition to taking Z and her buddy S to Disney's Aladdin at Navy Pier, I...

Went yard saling with the whole family and scored almost-new red Crocs, a vintage Playmobil school set, a windbreaker and a Speedo swimsuit for Z, books for both kids and a never-used snow cone machine. The last item was spotted by Josh, who successfully argued that it was worth more than $5 of enjoyment.

Had the world's best milkshake at Brown Sack. Chocolate-peanut butter, in case you were wondering. And yes, I shared.

Thank G-d for Lactaid pills

Hit Evan's 4th birthday party (see photos below)

Celebrated our 10th anniversary with dinner at Publican. Beer, oysters, mussels, three kinds of pork and a waffle topped with honey butter and figs. It was perfect.

Rearranged Z's room to accommodate the wardrobe our neighbors gave us. Since her room doesn't have a closet this is a major WIN.

Hit the weekly free concert at Scoville Park, where sunshine and mild temps attracted a huge crowd of people we knew from the neighborhood, Z's preschool and Temple.

Review: Disney's Aladdin at the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre

I hate Navy Pier. If it weren't for Chicago Public Radio, the Chicago Children's Museum and the Chicago Shakespeare Theater, I'd be perfectly happy never venturing to the land of overpriced hot dogs, ice cream, tour boat rides and tourist-trappy theme restaurants/fun houses. And the parking--gah! $24 flat rate parking with no grace period. It's fraking highway robbery.

But still, the CST is a very classy joint. And at the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre right now is Disney's Aladdin, a marvelous stage musical that feels much bigger and more spectacular than an 11-person production has any right to.

The show is based on the 1992 animated movie not one of Z's favorite Disney Princess flicks, but one she's seen a couple of times. So she was excited to see it live "with real people." Her friend S, at 5 1/2 a year older than Z, hadn't seen Aladdin before, but she was an experienced theatre-goer.

The show did a good job of keeping the girls entertained and they were able to follow the plot pretty well. Right around the one hour mark S started asking if it was almost over and were there any snacks for sale. Fortunately the show is a only 75 minutes from start to finish--just about as long as two kindergarteners can sit still and stay (mostly) quiet.

I, on the other hand, probably enjoyed the show even more than Z and S. Yes, I loved it. I admit it. It isn't high art, but features a top-notch cast, beautiful sets and costumes and some great (if not-over-the-top) special effects. Hint: magic carpet ride.

I was a little disappointed that the orchestra was hidden away back stage (I thought at first that they were singing along with prerecorded music). But that's pretty much my only gripe. I can't even complain too much about the parking fees because the Chicago Shakespeare Theater offers patrons a 40 percent discount.

We followed the performance up with $5 strawberry sorbet cones and a little people-watching. Z didn't like the chunks of fruit in hers, so I ate it and bought her a $4 jumbo hot dog, which she enjoyed despite the poppy seed bun. You'd never know our economy was in shambles by the crowds at Navy Pier. It was choked with humanity--thousands of people balancing enormous soft drink cups on strollers filled with sleeping, sunburned toddlers, shouldering Build-A-Bear bags, licking ice cream cones, snarfing cheezy popcorn and cursing at the damned parking garage payment machines.

Disney's Aladdin is at the Chicago Shakespeare Theater through August 30, 2009. Tickets are $18 for children 12 and younger and $23 for adults, but you can save $5 on performances through July 31 when you enter the code BLOG at the CST website.

The cupcake

It all started out innocently enough. A backyard pool party with wading pools, pizza, Capri-Sun and adult beverages.

We sang happy birthday to Evan.

And the cupcakes were passed out. Kids love Jewel cupcakes.

Me, I love it when parties include Jewel cupcakes because they don't tempt me at all.

Nothing quite sets my teeth like the overwhelming sweetness of a frosted Jewel cupcake.

There's always lots of frosting.

Prepared with copious quantities of blue and green food coloring.

Blech. After passing on the cupcakes--all the better to save room for our anniversary dinner at Publican (which was AMAZING)--I hosed off A. And she hosed off her chair. She topped off her chocolate crumb bath with a trip down the inflatable slide and into an overfilled baby pool, where she slipped under the water. Which makes "I go unda-wawa" the phrase of the day; although "happy birthday" is a close second.

7/12/09 update: Food coloring does not appear to be metabolized by the human body. Neon poops. Nuff said.

Happy 10th Anniversary to Us

10 years.
We started careers.
We started a family.
We lost a father, a grandfather and a grandmother.
We've grown up together.
And I trust we'll grow old together, too.

The birds and the bees...over breakfast?

I've heard that when it comes to sex questions, you should be open and honest while not giving your kids more information than they can handle. I get that, but Z caught me a little off-guard this morning when, over a bowl of Cracklin' Oat Bran (which is, incidentally, the BEST cereal on earth and seemingly ONLY available at Super Target), she asked this:

"How does a baby get inside a mommy's tummy?"

"Um, how do you think, Z?"

"I don't know. TELL ME."

"Well, ah, the Daddy puts a seed in there."

"HOW? Does she swallow it?"

Shit. What's the age-appropriate answer for this one? I really, really don't want to go into the tab A fits into slot B discussion. At least not until I've finished my coffee, checked a few books out of the library, and perhaps waited 2 or 3 more years.

"Well, no. She doesn't exactly swallow the seed. You see, when mommies and daddies love each other very much, they sleep in the same bed. And the daddy gives the mommy the seed in the bed."

"HOW?"

"Well, they do a lot of hugging and kissing."

That seemed to satisfy her. For now.

Potty training is on the horizon

Way, way off in the distance. Like seeing the gray silhouette of the Sears Tower from LaGrange. But it's there. This morning I popped A out of her crib and headed to the changing pad for a morning diaper change. She let me take her old--still fairly dry--diaper off, but refused a new one.

"No want diaper! Poo-poo's coming," she said, touching herself on the behind.

"Great, how about you sit on the potty," I replied, flipping open the lid to the potty chair and tossing out the toys stowed inside.

"Noooooo!" she shrieked, and booked her naked butt out of the room. She then tried to close me in her bedroom with a "No, Mommy stay in. Poop's coming!" Big, devilish smile.

I cracked open the door and watched her piss on her feet. I picked her up, midstream, and popped her on the potty. Z was so proud of her sister, "Mommy, Daddy! A peed on the floor and in the potty!" I didn't have the heart to tell her maybe one drop made it in.

Potty training. Just one more reason I'm glad we keep microfiber car-washing rags all over the house. Those puppies can suck up a pee-pee puddle in seconds flat.

You know you're a D-list Mom Blogger if...

We're running on Internet time. This D-List thing has evolved from a comment I made on Self-Made Mom early last week to a post I wrote last Thursday to a full-fledged blog Sara designed over the weekend.

Click on over to see if you qualify for our underachievers club.

Go ahead, rain on my parade

Check out my Chicago Moms Blog post, A very soggy 4th of July.

Z's latest family portrait

From left to right: Z, little sister A, Mommy and Daddy. Z and I are wearing crowns.
In the sky, a dozen yellow birds, the sun and a flying dog. He's wearing a cape.