Chocolate Covered Anything

Seriously, how is this girl not my best friend?

 

 

These Cake Batter Energy Bars might possibly be the best thing in recent dessert news. I found this recipe after stumbling upon the website Chocolate Covered Katie: the Healthy Dessert Blog.

 

I'll say it again, why is this girl not my best friend?

Family Night

We are back! A new laptop and the proper editing software makes blogging about our experiencing oh-so-much easier.
Dave was able to obtain tickets to Family Night at Lambeau, where fans cheer as offence and defence face off against each other. We thought this would be a wonderful opportunity to introduce Tate to a "Packer Game" to see how he would do in that type of setting. We made it to half time...

After waiting in line for brats and watermelon in the 400 degree heat...

Tate and Lambeau Field

He suddenly became shy once we were in the stadium...

...until the time called for a silly picture. Then we were all good.



Tate and Dave

In February I began a new job. A full time job. At night. Not really ever the type of work schedule I would have thought I would engage in, especially when I have a small little family I adore spending time with, but this is where I find myself, nonetheless. Due to the nature of how our schedule as a family now works out, Dave and Tate spend a fairly significant amount of "man time" together. It is so apparent to me how meaningful this is. The growing bond between the boys is so great, it is almost visible. "Daddy" is usually the answer, or question, to most everything in Tate's world. I don't have enough words to express how lucky both Tate and I are, to have Dave, influence, teach, and model how to be a compassionate, loving, and "all around manly" man.

 Tate went around and gathered the lax boys' helmets, lining them up, oh-so-perfectly. Tate adores lacrosse, and loves watching Dave coach. He pulled Dave aside, specifically to show him his work.

 

Tate is a MAN. 

MAN criteria:

* don't wear a shirt

* place your hands behind your head in the car

* be just like Daddy

"Why you crying, Daddy?"

"It's okay to cry when you're sad, Buddy."

"Daddy, you need a hug?"

"Yeah, Buddy."

Tate and Bru

Just when I am at the point where I have absolutely zero patience for our half Devil, half Black lab dog, Tate goes and does something like this.

 He calls Bru his "Fire Dog". That's when she will allow him to place his fireman helmet on her head for like, 3.6 seconds. 

Looking at this picture, Bru looks slightly scared...maybe because she knows karma, for her, comes in the form of a 2 1/2 year old boy.

Scavenger Hunt

It has been about a year since we first took Tate to the nature reserve. As it worked out this time, I had the day off and Dave had been invited to a lacrosse boy's Eagle Scout ceremony, so we decided to make an adventure out of it. I had seen a variety of ideas for scavenger hunts that are completed on a walk, or at the mall, or the grocery store; where ever is needed to keep a little one interested. I decided since Tate and I would have about an hour to kill while Dave was at the ceremony, we would have our own nature scavenger hunt. We made a list that included words and pictures, for easy identification. The following were on our list (due largely in part because Mama could draw them):
* rock
* straight stick
* caterpillar
* bug
* wiggly stick
* leaf
* water
* really tall tree

Checking the list.

There was a pier that Tate was not even phased by last time we visited. This time, I had to use some extra creativity to get him off the pier. He kept looking into the water to see the "big fish, Mama!"

This was the face I got on one of the occasions I mentioned for us to "go back on land and find your treasures!"

I read this face as: "Yeah, I'm not going over there."

Mine and Tate's ideas of what constituted a "rock" were some what different, but major props to my son for staying true to the list. He only kept a rock (and he kept plenty) if it fit in the rock drawing on his list.

Making sure the leaf passes inspection. It too was match to scale against the list's drawing.

While we did not get everything on our list, Tate seemed to be into the whole, "let's find stuff on a list" idea, and would ask to go on a "cavenger hunt"  for the next few day...

Touch-a-Truck

We went to Touch-a-Truck again this year, much to the delight of a certain 2 1/2 year old. And let's face it, the delight of a 29 1/2 year old as well. Dave's office is located downtown, about a block away from where this takes place. He was good enough to call us to let us know Touch-a-Truck was happening. I kid, but I am really grateful he called as I had been wondering if the city was going to be putting it on again. You may remember we were introduced to the event last year, and again as you may remember, both boys thoroughly enjoyed themselves.

This is the back of an 'ATF Truck', which stands for Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms; as in the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, (and since 911) and Explosives. This was by far one of Tate's favorite trucks, due mostly to the fact that he was able to wear a helmet.

 This is in the back of a sheriff's squad car. He kept asking me to "go away, Mama. Shut the door". I kept telling him, "this is your only time in the back of one of these. Ever."

This would be in the front of the sheriff's squad. Much better. Although about 13 years premature, but hey, it's better than the backseat.

"Don't take my lacrosse stick, Mama!"

Tate has totally fallen in love with lacrosse. The other day, he was almost inconsolable after Dave left for an away game that we were not attending. He. Was. Distraught. He really loves it. He has his own lacrosse stick, which he is constantly inquiring about; where it is, who's car it is in, if we have any lax balls. Due to the crazy-ness of our schedules lately, and some unfortunate weather, last week was the first time Tate and I were able to make it to a game. Two games, in fact. So when I told Tate that we would go see Daddy's team play this afternoon, he was beyond excited.

There were four other young gentlemen, within the ages of 5-12, who were playing their own "game" of lacrosse with a tennis ball. It was like Christmas came early for my son. I attempted to remind him about personal space, to remind him that these kids were already playing a game, and gently remind him that he may be a bit too little. For he looked so tiny compared to the four boys, my mama eyes were observing. 

"No, I big, Mama." my sweet boy attempted to convince me, as he stood on his tip-toes.

Thankfully, it was warm out and Tate needed a water break, otherwise I do not know how I would have gotten him away from the mini lacrosse game. Actually, I do know. I would have picked him up, with his verbally protesting that he should be able to continue to play. As was the case five minutes later.

And note, apparently firemen play lacrosse.

Humans of New York

I promise you, soon we will be back to posting pictures along with stories of the Tater-Man and Savy. Officially right now, my laptop is out of commission as it is in desperate need of a new battery. So instead of leaving you lonely and hanging, I will continue to post other websites I find fun. This one, at least has pictures you can look at. It is called, Humans of New York. It is no surprise how much I love photography, so I was thrilled to stumble upon this project. Essentially, this photographer, Brandon Stanton, set out to "construct a photographic census of the city of New York". The pictures are wonderful. They make me laugh. They inspire me. They are beautiful. And they afford me the opportunity to see a stranger, an individual in a way I may not if I were simply passing them on the street.


Some examples with descriptions/stories from the photographer:

 

This guy was huge, mohawked and tattooed. A real intimidating character - then he smiled.

 

I found this man on 7th Avenue in Park Slope. He was leaning heavily on his cane, looking down, wearing a grimaced face. I felt bad for him, so I smiled and waved when I walked past. His face changed completely. He lit up, smiled wide, and gave me a cheery greeting. There was nothing forced about it. He seemed like a man who went through life looking for the smallest excuses to be happy.

I walked 50 feet down the sidewalk, turned around, and walked back to him. “I want to take your photo,” I told him, “because of how big you smiled when I walked by.”

He said: “Well I saw someone smiling at me who I didn’t even know. So I thought: ‘By God! I Better do something!’”

  

I love that there are cultures where a father and son can walk arm-in-arm without a hint of self-consciousness.

 

There Were Three in the Bed and the Little One Said...

Think what you want of our situation, thankful it is ours and you only have to read about it.

Tate likes to sleep in our bed. He usually wakes up around midnight or so and crawls in between us. It has gotten to the point, where in the morning, neither Dave nor I remember this happening. It is a little bit like Christmas, waking up to an additional person in bed. Ok, maybe not like Christmas, but still...he's cute and he's right there, perfect for smooching. 

At times, I think Dave and I both have mixed feelings about this pattern, but I try to remind myself that our son will not be 16 years old and still crawling into bed with us. If that is the case, I will then be posting a completely different blog post. For now, this is how it is, and if I wake up at say, 3am and Tate happens to have stayed in his own bed, I feel slightly deflated and so alone in bed with just one other person. But then I roll over and go blissfully back to sleep without anyone's arms, hands, feet or head pushing, poking or assaulting me; and with my pillow all to myself. Which leads to why I found this picture so right on amusing.