Quote of the Weekend

Quote of the Weekend is a weekly feature of Kelly's Des Moines Register blog.

Jack had the last of his basketball games on Sunday, and my husband's family came to watch him (complete with "Go Jack" signs).

He played his usual stellar game until he hit the water bottle too hard during halftime. After that, he was dragging booty pretty severely. But, he finished, got his snack, his certificate of achievement and lots of high-fives from his aunts, uncle and grandparents.

On the way home, his dad and I continued to praise him, being careful to stay focused on the "important" stuff like sportsmanship, hustle and effort (even though we wanted to give him major praise for his tenacious D, nothin-but-net buckets and outrageous boards).

After we had finished, and the car was silent, 2-year-old Quincy said, "Me really proud you, Jackie."

Could you die?

Just couldn't resist

This being my third pregnancy, I was pretty sure I could avoid the temptation to take a sneak peek inside at our baking bun.

But no. About a week ago, an overwhelming urge to see her came over me, and I set out on a mission to convince Jedd it was worth $100 to get a preview. I just had to know if she was looking anything like her brothers... and now that we have a pink wall in our house, to be 100 percent extra positive that she was a girl.

So, we headed out in the snow to Prenatal Vision today, and it was absolutely worth it. Not only did we receive confirmation of her femininity, we learned a couple other cute (and one really gross) thing about her.

First, she has hair! According to the technician, she has centimeter-length hairs on her temples and on the back of her head. Whoa. Major diversion from our previous two who were both born bald as the day is long.

Second, she loves to snuggle and has made her baby head at home right behind my hip. The technician said she hadn't seen a snuggler quite like her in a while and hypothesized that with all the "loves and hugs" from her big brothers, she felt safer with her developing brain tucked behind bone.

Third, she has freakishly long fingers, toes and feet. Her feet are already nearly two inches long from heel to toe!

And now for the gross part. She loves to suck on her wrist, and when that's not available, she has a substitute -- the umbilical cord. Eeeww!

So here's a few of the better shots we got today. Look like anyone we know?

Quote of the Weekend

Quote of the Weekend is a weekly feature of Kelly's Des Moines Register blog.

I have this thing I do that is inexplicably funny... generally only to me.

If the boys come across something out of place, like a diaper on the stairs or an empty pop can in the living room, they ask me -- very accusingly -- who put it there. Regardless of who left the offending item in its inappropriate location, I always respond the same way, "Daddy did it."

The boys will roll their eyes, let out a deep sigh and say, "Uhh, Daddy. He's always leaving stuff around."

It makes me laugh.

But as it turns out, Jack's getting too smart for my blame game. The other night he looked at me and said, "Mom, tomorrow when we wake up, is there going to be a diaper on the stairs?"

"Probably," I said.

"Well, I don't think you should put it there," he suggested.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said. "I don't put diapers on the stairs. That's your daddy's doing."

He looked at me the way I imagine I look at him when he's telling an outright lie and said simply, "Mom, I know that face."

It appears the jig is up.

Quote of the Weekend

Quote of the Weekend is a weekly feature of Kelly's Des Moines Register blog.

Watching the boys learn about their body parts just never gets old. Of course, we have lots of funny private part moments around here, but it's the less conspicuous parts -- like the uvula, for example -- that spark the really excellent conversations.

Driving past the 42nd St. fire station the other day, Quincy spotted a fireman. I was quick to correct him when I saw it was actually a firewoman.

Not to be left out of a conversation, Jack pipes in, "How do you know that was a firewoman?"

"She had a ponytail," I explained.

"Well, boys can have ponytails, you know," Jack argued.

"Yea, I suppose you're right. But this person also had a slight frame, a thin face and no sign of an Adam's Apple," I said.

"What's an Adam's Apple?" he wanted to know. So I gave that definition my best crack, which launched a new conversation about body parts specific to the throat and mouth region. Jack was very excited to tell me all about parts that vibrate and make noise to help him talk.

"You really know a lot about your body parts, dude," I congratulated him. I was honestly impressed with his grasp of the right parts and right names. It was pretty awesome for a 4-year-old.

But, then we took the inevitable turn down Ridiculous Road.

"Yep, and you know that thing that hangs down in your throat? That's a Dream Holder," he went on.

"A Dream Holder, huh? Why do they call it that?"

"'Cause that's what helps you dream," he replied.

"I didn't know that. How does it work?" I asked.

"Well, if you see something, it goes in your mouth and hangs onto the Dream Holder until nighttime," he said. "Then it goes in your brain and lets you dream. Like if you see a dog, then that dog goes in your mouth and hangs on to your dangle thing until you go to sleep and then you get to dream about dogs."

You really do learn something new every day.

Postcards from Phoenix

Old news that we went to Phoenix over New Year's for the ISU bowl game. But I never uploaded the pictures. So, with that brief introduction, here are the best of what I could salvage from a camera that was on it's way out...

Wii Prodigy

The boys got a Wii for Christmas, and Jack is shockingly proficient at the gaming system.

The fact that he can't yet read does nothing to hinder his ability to select the right golf clubs, know if he's in first place or even restart a game. It's freaky how much he knows... and how good he is at playing.

You'd think the boy had been golfing, bowling and playing tennis for 20 years.

Our very own Griswold family Christmas

In addition to hosting Christmas Eve, Jedd and I were called on to host the Lore side Christmas this year. Twenty-one people, a fabulous turkey (heretofore known as The Brine of 09) and 3,000 packages, boxes and bows made themselves at home in ours.

I can't really say that I'm "proud," because my mom was on hand to do most of the heavy lifting (read: the cleaning, the shopping, the cooking, the decorating), but I can say that I'm very happy with how it went.

You're not cool unless you're wearing a bear shirt.

More presents please!

Waskley Wabbit in the Christmas Tree

We have a rule about guns. The boys can play with them, but they lose them if they ever point them at a human being. Quincy made the best of the rule by forcing the Christmas tree to stick 'em up.

Santa Booty

As usual, Santa left way, way too many gifts for two lucky, lucky Moore boys.

Souper Spectacular Christmas Eve

Since 1978, my Christmas Eve has been celebrated at 861 Juniper Drive in Waterloo. But not this year. My parents sold the house and moved to Colorado. So, Christmas Eve this year was at my house. Talk about wild.

To complete the wildness, we decided to go totally non-traditional, forgo the customary Christmas poo-poos and go Soup For you!

My sister and bro-in-law made a delish chicken tortilla, and I made a knockoff Olive Garden Pasta Fagioli, a terribly bland tomato basil and Jedd's grandma's famous cheese chowder. I was most nervous about the later, what with the implied competition with a cherished memory, but it turned out great.


The weather cut our festivities short, as Lyns and Jer had to scoot out early, but we had a pretty fab time and closed out with the ultimate in tradition -- preparing Santa's own poo-poo platter.

Who needs Halloween?

Not us! It was a costume Christmas around the Moore house.

The boys got doctor, firefighter, football, pirate, reindeer and knight outfits. You never know who's going to make an appearance on any given day.

Quote of the Weekend

Quote of the Weekend is a weekly feature of Kelly's Des Moines Register blog.

It's really enjoyable to watch a small human being learn the English language. Homonyms, in particular, are especially amusing, and little Quincy has been exploring them with gusto of late.

Last night on the way out of the car wash at University and Jordan Creek Parkway, we got behind a very timid driver in a white Dodge Intrepid.

I have road rage and also a smidge of a potty mouth. I've been able to curb the swearing, but not really the impatience or the yelling. What I do is just yell the car's model like it is a swear word. Makes me feel good and it keeps the kids semi-innocent.

After sitting behind this guy for what seemed like 25 minutes, I said, "Come on, Intrepid. Make your move!"

"Why he make move, Mom?" asked Quincy.

"He needs to just go. If he sits here all day waiting on the supposed kindness of strangers, we'll be here until morning."

"Oh," Quincy said.

"Sometimes you just gotta have some guts," I said to Quincy.

"Yea!" Quincy yelled. Then he got quiet, if not a bit contemplative. "But... Jack punched me in the guts last night."

Right. Having guts and having guts punched are two very different things.