Ivar and walking

Well, Ivar and Walking don't go together yet. He'll be 16 months on Thursday, and he's still quite content to crawl around. He does like to stand on his own now so his balance is there and he loves to walk with fingers...so he's well on his way.

Truly, 97% of the time I am not worried at all about this. But 3% of the time I get nervous when the 29th person that day has asked, "is he walking yet?!!"

In Mesa there was a large in stature old man who commented that "Ivar was a good sized kid." He asked if he was walking yet and then replied, "My mom used to tell me I was 22 months before I took my first steps. And you know, I've been walking fine ever since, no problem."

My dad told me of this exchange and right then I decided I will not officially worry about Ivar and his walking until he's 22 months. Which is September 1st. And then I will worry.

Rory got the footage above of Ivar using his walker to push the cat around. Oh I hope this makes you grin as big as it made me smile.

living on this...

This picture made my Best Of 2011 list, and here's why.

I get sad when summer is over and berries and watermelon go out of season. But last winter I put together the above fruit salad and proceeded to eat it nearly every day. I was breastfeeding Ivar then and would eat an entire banana, a whole orange and whole kiwi in one sitting.

And I'm back at it again. There is something perfectly simple about this trio...tart kiwi, sweet banana, and good oranges. It's the perfect combination for me and makes me feel like I can make it to watermelon, raspberry, blueberry and strawberry season again.

an update on my thrifty father

You might remember my last visit to Mesa, when my dad came up with his own solution to fixing the existing patio furniture without having to purchase a brand new set. I am happy to report the tape is still holding, the pink is still vibrant and they make for a comfy seat.

But I have more to report. Dad has been typing up notes again too. Historically these notes have been found mostly in the guest bathroom at their house, serving as public service announcements asking guests to kindly turn on the fan before they shower and to limit their showers to five minutes in an effort to reduce moisture and to help the Harrington's save water.

And then in Mesa, I found this note on the oven:

It reads, "Caution! Oven Door Drops Like A Rock!" And it does. It is fair warning. But obviously I had to get out my camera.

And to make my life complete, he came out of the bedroom one night and said, "Hey Becca! Your dad is so cheap that when he needed a v-neck tshirt in Mesa, he just made his own!"

I told him to smile for the blog.

**My dad just called after reading this post and would like to be sure everyone understands: He was able to pay for his three kid's college educations, weddings, pay off his house in Minnesota and vacation in Arizona each year because of his thrifty ways. You would all be wise to make your v-necks and patio furniture to ensure a secure future for yourselves.

the long flight home

For as successful as the flight to Mesa was, the flight home was trouble from the start. Ivar was in desperate need of a nap and had figured out he could get quite the reaction from me if he screamed loud enough. When he screamed I would cover his mouth. Which he thought was fascinating, because it made his loud sound quiet. So the moment I removed my hand he tried it again. And again. And again.

We were blessed with an entire row on the way home, but truthfully, this was more trouble than anything. I sat in the middle and wrestled 24 pounds of baby who kept crawling from the window to the aisle and back and forth. I missed our six year old travel friend from the flight out so much. She was a tremendous diversion, I now realized. The flight attendant graciously kept reminding me that he needed to be in my lap at all times, and I smiled and nodded and said things like, "absolutely." And then continued to facilitate my son's physical adventures from one seat to the next.

I force fed him m&m's during the entire landing.

We spilled every single snack. My pants were saturated in formula before the plane even left the ground. You'll note the mix of rice puffs and wheat things on the floor in the picture, as well as one of our toys in the aisle. At some point I gave him some medicine "for his ears" to see if that might help him doze off. It did not.

So, it will be a while before we do this again. I actually had a pretty good attitude, realizing this too shall pass. And it did pass. But again, it will be a long time before I fly solo with my screaming son.

so proud

 

We had snacks at a restaurant overlooking a lake and my mom commented to me, "it sure is nice Ivar will drink from a straw." And I was shocked, because we haven't been able to get him to use a straw before. But there he was, proud as could be, drinking and laughing like he and Grandma had some funny secret that just got out.