Wave. He seemed to be a little late on the wave-train, but now he’s really gotten it. He waves at us. He waves when visitors leave. I’m really obsessive about making sure to always have the people wave back, so he gets the give-and-take nature of the wave. Although yesterday I saw him look out the window and wave … but no one was out there. At least no one I could see. Perhaps he was waving at that moving truck across the parking lot?
Say “Yum-yum-yum.” It started with a few bites of whipped cream. He made a “Mmmmm” noise as he sucked it off the fork, and then went “Um-num-num-num.” Of course, this got me all excited, and I started feeding him bite after bite of strawberry shortcake and encouraging the “num-num-num” cuteness. While he happily gobbled bite after bite of dessert. The kid is a genius.
Sprint. Want to see a kid run like he’s training for the Olympics? Open the dishwasher. He’s around the corner and grabbing for the silverware like there’s a freaking fire.
Defy toilet rules. We had a big problem with Baby Boy splashing in the toilet water (and dropping things into the bowl) when the lid was left open. So I finnnnnally trained Darling Husband to keep the lids closed (he’s always been awesome at leaving the seat down, so this was a new battle for us). And then what does Baby Boy do? Learn to lift the lid with one fat little hand so the other hand can splash in the water. Sigh. Off to buy toilet locks. I hope our guests figure out how to use them.
Explore the outdoors. We’ve been spending a lot of time with Baby Boy outside lately, now that Nova Scotia seems to have woken the eff up and realized it doesn’t have to rain EVERY day. And he has loved plucking stands of grass and dandelions and carrying them around. BIG progress the other day at the park, when he picked up some bark and did NOT immediately put it in his mouth. Please let him be learning not to put every single thing in his mouth. It’s very stressful for Mama.
I’m Heather Laura Clarke. I’m a writer living in beautiful Nova Scotia, I have a 12-year-old son and a 10-year-old daughter, I married my high school sweetheart, and this is the story of my handmade life.
I have depression and anxiety, and I fight like hell every day to keep them from taking over my life. Creating things helps.
Whether I’m writing novels, decorating a room, busting out my power tools to build furniture, getting muddy in the pottery studio, sewing clothes, or cross-stitching a swear word, I’m all about using my creativity to craft a life I love.
I’ve been writing this blog since 2009, so if you dig deep into the archives, you’ll meet a bright-eyed 25-year-old newlywed who was basically obsessed with having kids, buying a cozy house, and supporting herself full-time with her writing. (Spoiler alert: she got exactly what she wanted.)