A Pumpkin Ate My Baby

My grandmother and mom sent Truman a pumpkin Halloween costume and a Halloween card. As you can see, Grammy, he enjoyed the card!

More pumpkin suit photos to come later today. Stay tuned.

6 months: The World is Mine (And I'd Like it in My Mouth, Please!)

At six months, Truman is a whopping 19 pounds 4 ounces and 27 and 1/4 inches tall. That's only 1/4 inch taller than he was at 4 months, but it puts him in the 75% for height and weight; and he wants to explore the world.

He spent the last month mastering his army crawl and discovering the ins-and-outs and dos-and-don'ts of our home. He's used this skill to satisfy a pressing need to chomp. Like a very teething caterpillar he's chomped cardboard puzzle pieces, felt food, banana peels, clothes, spoons, fingers, teething rings and leaves. And would like to chomp every cable ever made, although I think he's getting the picture it's not going to happen. We see no teeth budding yet.

He's been babbling in recognizable ma-ma's and ga'ga's and da-da once or twice. He seems to get the idea that ma-ma is either me or "help," scooting over to me and uttering an endless ma-ma-ma-ma-ma until I pick him up.

He's becoming simultaneously more independent and more tied to me. After a big exploration, he likes to refocus. He smiles often and giggles much.

Smiling at 3 weeks:




And, today:

I'll Be Famous

25 weeks

With morning sickness long behind me and a happy protruding belly in front of me, I've finally entered the strange pregnancy food hall of fame, at least at Perkins.

After enjoying an inspiring Andrew Bird performance at the Guthrie Friday, Joe, his brother James and sister-in-law Nikki and I headed to Perkins for a late night meal.

We had possibly one of the most excited waiters I've ever seen serve people at 11:45 in a restaurant that closes at midnight, we'll call him Ted.

Brooke: "Are the gingerbread pancakes spicy?"
Ted: "No ... they're pretty much just sweet, like gingerbread. This is Perkins; it's sweet."
James, Joe, Nikki: various strange looks shooting my way.
Brooke: "I'll take the gingerbread pancakes."

Shortly after taking my first bite I come to realize that they a) do not taste very good at all and b) are grossly undercooked. Ted offers to make me more pancakes (cooked ones) but I opt for a waffle instead.

Powdered-sugar dusted waffle in front of me, I dig in and find it satisfying. But half way through I spot Ted and call him over.

Brooke: "Can you bring me some hot sauce?"
Ted: scampers off dutifully.
Joe: crazy-blue-eyes look.
Brooke: "What? The waiter didn't say anything about it, if he doesn't say anything about it, neither can you."
waiter returns.
Ted: "I just have to ask, are you going to use that on your waffle?"

Ted goes on to respond that if I do I have to tell him because they keep a list of all of the strange requests they get, which is passed on from waiter to waiter as tradition.

I later tell him it was delicious and he should try it. I'm pretty sure I will live on in perpetuity at the Perkins at 494 and France as that crazy lady who ate a Belgan Waffle with whipped cream and Tabasco.