a touch of the yuckies

If I were making a baby book for myself, I would put my "firsts" in it. Like "Mommy's first successful nap-during-a-nap" or "Mommy's first successful double-baby pick-up".

This past week, it would be "Mommy's discovery of the difference between spit-up and throw-up".

As it happens, there is a big difference.

Sparing everyone most of the gory details, Noah and Lily caught a bit of a stomach bug last weekend. Noah got over it very quickly, but Lily continued to randomly reject some of her meals throughout the week. (In case you're interested, cranberry-raspberry applesauce looks rather fuchsia afer its upward journey.)

But they're doing better now. They even felt up to the challenge of a chilly walk in their fun fleece hats:


For the remainder of this entry, I thought I'd share a small slice of my Life With Scott. It never ceases to amuse me that he appears so straight-laced and sedate to most people... but he's not. Those of us who read his facebook status updates found this out long ago. I love the way he thinks--I don't understand, it, but I love it.

For example, one day I came home and found this:


A closer view:


That's not a living creature, in case you were worried. It's a rubbery toy. I couldn't wait to hear what crazy reason Scott had for having the toy climb the side of the window... As it turned out though, he was just using it to squish the blinds over and help block the afternoon sun.

I found this about a week ago:

Yes, that's my oven, and no, that's not edible. It's a wooden mold filled with concrete. Yes, in my oven. In the kitchen. The one I cook food in.

Now, I have to say that the concrete was for a good purpose: Scott was making a base for a gate fastener, and it works wonderfully.

But still--it did give me a bit of a shock when I opened the oven door...