History In The Making: The Crappy Cellphone Picture Edition.

We've been busy lately, but in the best way. Daddy has been filling his mornings before work with satisfying solo projects and Noah Finn and I have filled our days cavorting around town with our best mommy and baby pals.

This past Sunday, after a family morning in the park outing with one of my mommy groups, we went to brunch with Asami, Kai and Atushi. Despite the posh Larchmont Village neighborhood and the attention to aesthetic detail of the space we found ourselves dining in, the food was barely mediocre and my slice of "freshly baked" tart cherry pie . . . well, I won't bore you with my cantankerous criticism. But, still, the afternoon was serene . . . frolicking in and out of shoe shops, our favorite organic kid's store owned by Punky Brewster, and past a sidewalk dog adoption event. After pouting for some time, Dean finally caved and approved the addition of a dog to our ever growing family. So, I am excited to report that we'll be combing local shelters in the coming weeks and months in search of the perfect mutt for us to rescue from certain death and love forever and ever.

Okay, but, back to Sunday . . . after our Larchmont afternoon, we ventured to Trader Joe's to battle the parking lot crowds for a highly prized patch of Trader Joe's asphalt in an effort to wrangle up an easy dinner. As Dean walked around the car to retrieve our little toddler who had been unusually quiet during the short car trip, I sat sulking in the passenger seat (Dean had not yet relented and caved in on the dog issue at this point).

And. Then. Dean shrilly shrieked. And, then he loudly panted . . . "oh. my. god." several times.

It appeared as if Noah Finn had decided that costumes were required attire for Trader Joe Sunday's and he was intent on coming prepared--he was painted head to toe in a lovely shade of "fig". It was everywhere and by everywhere, I mean everywhere.

You see, Noah and I had driven the hour drive up to Canyon Country just the day before to attend a going away party for very dear friends of ours. In a desperate effort to silence the backseat crooner during the drive, I handed him my small make up bag that I carry in the diaper bag. I don't wear much make up--just chapstick and a little under-eye concealer to hide my black bags of sleep deprivation--so it mostly contains holistic first aid supplies for Noah and a few OB tampons that Noah loves to chew on--wrapped, of course. Noah loves this little pouch of tiny treasures and I always revert to it when in any sticky screaming situation. But, apparently there was one rogue tube of lipstick remaining from past days of yore when my lips were more decorated that Noah not only found but stashed in his carseat for "later", as it appears.

The funny thing is that Dean and I laughed--we laughed until we were crying and until, well, we made Noah cry. He is crying in the pictures above because he was left in the carseat so long as we laughed chuckled and wiped away our tears of sheer hilarity. The best part of it all was that it broke the tension--the terse dog conversation dissipated into a fit of family laughter and I think that it can be attributed with lightening things to the point of Dean finally giving in upon his return to the car from the store.

You see, the weekend was a great two days of parenting woes and follies that ultimately resulted in the addition of a new family member--soon. The only damper was that our camera was no where in sight. Unfortunately, I had to snap pictures of Noah's face painting antics, as well as, his first trip to the Los Angeles Natural History Museum with my camera phone--phooey on poor photography to mark major moments. At least it was all documented. It's Noah Finn history in the making.

Sigh, Chuckle, Cry.

Today started like any other Tuesday.

Noah wakes up. Dean and Noah get up first. Mommy rises later. Noah naps--but Noah never naps. Mommy gets dressed. Mommy sighs and looks at the clock. Mommy packs the diaper bag. Noah continues to nap--but Noah never naps. Mommy & Me class begins. Mommy huffs and puffs around the house--this is the only thing Mommy really, really cares about going to each week. Noah continues to nap--but Noah never naps. Mommy wonders why Noah chooses to nap and only nap at this exact time on Tuesdays. Noah wakes from nap. Mommy & Noah arrive at class--one hour late.

That's how the day began--just like every other Tuesday. Until we got home from our mommy & me class, that is.

Mom sets Noah down on the bathroom floor. Mom removes Noah's dirt, grass and banana stained romper to give it a soak in the sink. Mom turns on the bathroom sink faucet to let the sink fill. Noah removes diaper. Mom smells poop. Mom sees diaper beside poop pile laying in the doorway. Mom sees trail of poop. Mom finds Noah. Mom sees poop on Noah's hands, legs and torso. Mom puts Noah into the bathtub. Mom hears water dripping. Mom sees water pouring out of the sink onto the counter and onto the floor. Mom turns off sink faucet. Mom turns on bathtub faucet. Mom bathes Noah. Mom dries the counter and floor. Mom diapers and dresses Noah. Mom cleans poop trail.

Wednesday. Rise and repeat.

You Know You're A Tired Daddy When . . .

. . . you accidentally leave the baggie of frozen prune cubes in the cupboard.

Because Noah was up nursing much of the night, Dean got up with Noah when he woke for the day at 6:30 a.m. to let me sleep in.

Later on in the morning when both of them were napping, I opened the cabinet and reached for a coffee mug. And, to my surprise what did I see? Noah's bag of prune cubes thawed and in a heap of mushy mess.

Poor, poor, sleepy Daddy. Breakfast time must have been rough going.

All In A Good Day's Play.

I've decided to begin a new weekly installment called, "All In A Good Day's Play" where I will chronicle, once a week, our day in snapshots! Enjoy! Here's the first edition . . . it will go something like this . . .

Our day in snapshots:

• 11:30 a.m.--Noah's menu for today, pre-pureed.
• 2:00 p.m.--Post afternoon nap failed photo attempt at Mama trying to get a good pic of that blasted first pearly white.
• 5:00 p.m.--Swinging in the park after "Story and Songtime Summer Mondays" at the library.
• 6:00 p.m.--Toes apparently taste better then carrots at dinnertime.
• 6:15 p.m.--What's left of dinner. Our sake cups make excellent feeding cups!
• 6:30 p.m.--Teething on a carrot and getting undressed for bath time giggles.

(3:59 pm: Too bad I don't have a snapshot of this part of our day, but it's too good to be left out even without the pic.

Noah and I were stroller racing down the sidewalk headed to the library for "Story and Songtime Summer Mondays"--of course we were running a wee bit late and wanted to make it in time for the opening tune. When, all of a sudden, a section of sidewalk missing concrete sent the buggy flipping over frontwards with me flipping over the top of it before rolling off sideways splayed on the ground with the front of my shirt above my head.

Okay. I can laugh about how funny this was now. As a matter of fact, the mom who was behind me with her little tot Liam is probably at home recounting the spoof at the dinner table as we speak. As a further matter of fact, after she picked up the carnage and ensured we were okay, she went on raving for the better part of storytime about how we should sue the city. But, I was terrified at the time. Had my little Noey Finn not been strapped in, and perhaps, had I not had the footrest propped all the way up for him to kick his feet against, he could have eaten the sidewalk in a much worse fashion than I. But since he came away from it all completely unscathed, now, I can allow myself to chuckle.

Damn L.A.! When are they going to get out of constant budget crisis long enough to repair our ailing streets and sidewalks!?)

Viewer Discretion Advised.

Since we've brought Noah Finn home from the hospital there have been many times when we've laughed ourselves to tears, but yesterday marked the first time that we've laughed ourselves into hilarium--literally nearly wetting our pants.

It all occurred yesterday evening when I was on the phone with my parents. While talking with my dad, I heard Dean let out a shrieking cry from the direction of our bedroom. With my dad still on the line, I rushed down the hall and this is what I saw . . . Dean standing beside the changing table without a shirt on and wearing a look of sheer panic while simultaneously crying and laughing hysterically, a naked Noah Finn flailing on the changing table screaming bloody murder, poop splattered in drips across the changing pad cover and an even larger stream of the oozy brown stuff dripping down the wall behind the changing table forming pools on the top of the floorboards before flowing onto the wood floors below.

Chaos--a runny, smelly poo festering chaos and it was wreaking havoc all over our bedroom--our sanctuary, our retreat, our cozy, calm bedroom.

Dean blabbered an explanation while gasping for air in between bellowing laughs--he had apparently unwisely decided to pick up Noah Finn, who was screaming sans diaper, to comfort and soothe his weary cries. However, on his way up to daddy's cozy shoulder, in mid air, Noah simultaneously shot a stream of pee out the front--landing on daddy's shirt--and a stream of poop out the back--spraying on the changing pad cover and wall.

We caught our breath and the roaring laughter lowered to a giggle. And, as we dressed Noah and removed all evidence of Noah's free form wall art--with the sound of Miles, our cat, howling into the toilet bowl echoing in the background and dried poo on our hands--we thought to ourselves, this is our life now.

And we wouldn't give up a single stream of dried spit up on our fourth shirt of the day for anything in the whole wide world.

P.S. New pictures in our Flickr album!