Waylaid...

Hey blog, it's been awhile.

Don't blame me, summer really is a busy time. We've got things to do, people to see...all that.

Plus, I have a new blog project in the works...and blogject if you will. Which is consuming a lot of my extra time. This blogject will be revealed once some actual progress has been made. It has something to do with writing. And possibly postmodernism. Aren't you excited??!

In any case, we made it home from California and the return trip went much smoother than the arrival trip. No dropping things, no running out of time to change diapers, happy baby, all that. By the end of the plane ride, Finn was flirting so much with the stewardess and neighbors that I felt less like his mom and more like his wingman.

Speaking of the little monster...he is 11 months old today!!!!! One more month 'till the big PARTAY!!! It is tentatively robot themed. You'll all be receiving a personal, hand written, invitation in your mailbox. Finn will be hand-writing these invitations, soooo good luck deciphering that.

New developments, you ask? He's now got FIVE teeth. They just started sproutin' like weeds. Thankfully he took it pretty well.

What he didn't take well was tripping HARD and landing on the baby gate that I didn't put away, busting his lips AND gums open. There was blood. Lots of it. And then there was the few hours after the incident where he couldn't have a pacifier. Scary times (P.s. There is, apparently, a window of opportunity between 9 and 10 months where you are supposed get rid of the pacifier lest they have it for, basically, their whole life. We missed that window). But he's all better now :)

Also, the kid is getting kind of an attitude. If you're not me (which I hope you're not) you'd think he's the sweetest thing to step foot on this planet. He bats his eyelids, waves, smiles all that cute stuff.

But of course when I'm with him alone its all, "noooooo, I'm not going to eat that!" and "I want to eat your phoooone! Give iiiiit!" and "I'm never taking a nap so long as you're here!"

Now the truth is out there.

But really, 95% of the time he's very amenable to the things I have to say. He might even agree with me on occasion. Maybe.

And last but not least, he's wogging. It's a combination of walking and jogging. He doesn't have his running stride down yet, but he's definitely walking really fast. Hence, wogging. Much of the time (though increasingly less and less) it ends with him splatting somewhere. Splatting=another good word of mine. I'm pioneering vocabulary like Shakespeare. Shakespeare!

So grown up :)