bethysmalls

Hoagey’s fathers’ day dinner.

My baby and his daddy.

And his Daddy’s Daddy.

Doing what they love best in the world: Eating burgers and hot dogs. Watching baseball.

And then the two daddies went to the Phillies game and got to see  11 innings of baseball. And while the outcome wasn’t the best, I’m pretty sure they had an alright time.

The first day he was a father.

Love to all the Papa Bears out there. Enjoy your day and get lots of hugs.

Last night as we were getting ready to go to sleep, Hoagey said to me, “I’m going to take Bruno down to get a sippy cup tomorrow.” I was a little stunned. I thought maybe I said something to upset him and so he was trying to upset me. You see the morning is the only time I nurse Bruno anymore. So if he got milk in the morning he would be *gulp* weaned. I asked what he was talking about, still trying to figure out what I’d done wrong. “I was thinking about it the other day. I mean you can’t do it forever.”

I mean true. But I’ve seen more than one documentary about five, six and seven year olds nursing, and while I didn’t plan on THAT (FOR DANG SURE) I didn’t think 2 years was out of the question.

Once I realized he was serious and not trying to hurt my feelings, I said reminded him that while Bruno might be fine with this plan I am far from ready. ESPECIALLY if you’re going to tell me THE NIGHT BEFORE!!!!!!(!!!!!!!) I need to know our last time is approaching so that I can, for one thing, not sleep through it. I need to memorize it and hold him super tight…. Even though he hardly ever lays still anymore…. And he’s usually kicking one or both of us the whole time. But even still. I like it and Bruno likes it and I’m. Not. Ready.

He’s still a baby, toddler shmoddler, and babies need to be nursed. The end. Don’t rush me!

Grilling! I told you I’d get my act together. And a few nights ago we made some delicious burgers on the grill. The burgers were really nothing special. They were pre-made 8 oz. patties from the grocery store. We had made some special burger concoctions before we had the how’s and how much’s and the how long’s all set with the actual grill and we decided to bang out all the problems before we used fancy ingredients again. So allow me to show you our grillz skillz…

Put some news paper in the bottom of your chimney starter. (Note, this chimney starter is upside down.) We use 2-3 sheets of news paper rolled on the diagonal and shaped into a ring. My hubby also started putting some in the top as well. He’s very smart.

Flip that sucker over and put it somewhere safe, like inside the grill! Add charcoal. We currently have some mesquite flavored briquettes but I DO NOT recommend eating them. They mostly taste like burnt.

With a long match or magic fire stick (like the one seen above) light the newspaper in the bottom.

And now you wait for the coals to catch fire. While you wait, you can….

Sweep the back porch!

Practice steps!

Play on a pink scooter/Ignore your mother blowing bubbles for you!

**Bruno is not the one actually grilling here, of course. Just wanted to make that clear**

After all that is done, about 20 minutes or so, you should see some white ash on your coals with some orange heat showing from the bottom. When you see that, your coals are ready to use. Very carefully dump the coals into your grill.

This is where we kept screwing up. Because we used a chimney starter there is no need to let the coals heat up. I think if you’re using lighter fluid instead, you have to let them preheat for 20-40 minutes. By that time, our coals were dead and our burgers were melting and leaking through the grate. Bleh. These coals right here are hot and ready to go.

Ok so put the top grate over your coals and get to grilling!

Last night I laid on the couch after putting Bruno down and fell asleep 1 hour later. I’ve been getting over a cold and it caught up with me I suppose. When I woke up to go to bed, I quickly considered blogging but I knew if I did that I’d be up for hours.

Apologies.

On Friday, my cats had an appointment at the vet’s office. When I made the appointment originally, Hoagey said, “I can’t get off work for that, can’t you pick another day.” “It’s no big deal! As long as Bruno is taken care of, I can do it!” I said.

On Monday, I put the cats crates out in the open hoping to get them comfortable with them being around. Sometimes, they’ll just go in the crates and hang out. “Maybe I won’t even have to do anything.” I foolishly thought to myself.

Friday came and I had an idea that when we fed the cats, we’d shut the basement door so that we would absolutely know where Pom Pom wasn’t. She is the sticky wicket in this scenario because she is afraid of everything and could NOT care less about treats. Skippy on the other hand will wake up, jump off of whatever he’s sleeping on, run full speed downstairs if I even place my hand on the treats. Getting him in his crate is easy: Throw treat in crate, push cat in when he goes  to get it. But someone didn’t listen to my great plan and did not remember to close the basement door with the cats upstairs yesterday but that didn’t end up making a difference one way or another (Lucky for you, Bruno!!).

So Pom Pom, sweet, distrusting Pom Pom. This cat is very suspicious of, oh, everything. She will sprint out of the room if someone moves their hand to scratch their arm. She will walk up to you and rub her face against your hand and then sprint out of the room if you then try to pet her. She will jump up on the back of the couch and roll onto her back right next to you and sprint from the room if you think about turning around to pet her.

Anyway, Pom Pom was indeed in the basement. I went to go find her and she was resting peacefully on the boiler, obviously. We had been getting along as of late and she let me walk right up to her and I pet her. Feeling confident I went up stairs to get a towel to wrap her up in. I went back down (she’s still there and does not look nervous!) and approached her, wrapped her (poorly as it would turn out) in the towel and brought her frantic, flailing body back upstairs and attempted to put her in her carrier. She got loose, clawed and fought her way out of the crate/my grasp and… sprinted upstairs. This is when I knew it was going to get difficult.

Pom Pom’s preferred hideout before we let the cats into the basement was in our box spring. The bottom of it is torn and she goes there because she has never been extracted from there. That is until yesterday. With Uncle Skippy safely in his crate, seething at his gullibility, Pom Pom hid safely in her box spring cave. I readied her crate, closed the doors to the bedroom and began to  disassemble the bed.

First went our queen sized memory foam mattress. This thing is squishy and bendy and very very heavy so it wouldn’t stand up like a regular mattress. It kept falling back onto the bed like an enormous, extra thick pancake. After that was finished draining  my life force, I picked up the box spring to make sure she was actually in there. She was. Clinging to the bottom of it, our usually silent little poppet began to howl. I lifted the other side of the box spring, and she scampered out. I put it down and when she tried unsuccessfully to flee the room, she ran back inside. I repeated the process, all the time she’s scolding me, and she ran behind our big floppy pancake mattress. I threw the mattress back in the direction of the bed and she ran into my wardrobe behind my hanging clothes. I readied the crate, grabbed the towel again and wrapped her up again. We were both kind of freaking out at this point but after the longest 60 seconds of scuffling, she landed in the freaking crate.

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When we got home from the appointment, she ran into the basement and didn’t emerge again until Hoagey and I got home from our date. I went into the basement just now and she was lying on the boiler again and I approached her with my hands up and she didn’t let me get 10 feet from her before she hid behind something immovable in our basement and I conceded.

Maybe in a few weeks she’ll forgive me. Skippy was over it before we got home.

I want SO badly to love this cat with hugs and snuggles. She wants SO BADLY for me to leave her the hell alone. Good thing I’m mature and not stubborn at all. Yeah she’ll hate me forever.

At about 1:15, he id’s himself as Bru-Bru.

Cake Preparing

Blurry Birthday Girl

Waiting for cake

Blowing out the candles with Granny

One year ago:

1 year old!

Baby friends

It is/was Philly beer week this week! Tonight, thanks to my mom, we went to a bar called 12 steps down and had some pints. And watched the phillies lose 12-2. I blame my in-laws. J/k!

All this is to tell you that I will write more tomorrow, internets! Sys! Lylas!
xoxo.