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Month: October 2010

martha and the bone show

martha and the bone show

We’ve lived here 3 years and still haven’t taken advantage of much that the City has to offer. I’ve been trying to say yes more often and to figure out ways to do fun and exciting things. Like go to the taping of a tv show. I’m going to admit that I’m not much of a Martha person. I use her recipes now and then and I picked up her baking handbook at a garage sale last summer (I actually really like her homemade graham crackers and use the dough as pie dough if I ever need a graham cracker crust), but I’m not much of a crafter or decorator, so my excitement for Martha is fairly limited. Still, I jumped at the chance to be part of the studio audience on the Martha Stewart Show. It just seemed like the right thing to do.

I had a good time. Yes, I stressed about the “dress to impress” guideline we were given because I have approximately two modes: “jeans and a t-shirt,” and “church” but I somehow I managed to come up with something that almost made my jeans look “dressy” so that I didn’t feel completely under- or over-dressed. And how much do I love having a sister who can can come over and spend the day with the boys? Hallelujah.

So, on my list of things to do in New York City, I can check off “Be part of a studio audience.”

You can read a bit more about it here. And if you are able to watch it tomorrow (the 29th) you might be able to see me. I was in the second row.

let them eat cake! (lots and lots of cake)

let them eat cake! (lots and lots of cake)

Oliver is kind of having the birthday that wouldn’t end. But we’ll get to that in a minute. First, I just wanted to tell you that I made this key lime cheesecake for Micah.

I put 32 candles on it, lit them all, and we sang the longest birthday song ever (Blackhurst family tradition), and then he blew out the candles and we each had a piece (except for Oliver). It was pretty tasty, if you’re into that sort of thing. You know, the cheesecake/key lime pie kind of thing. It’s all gone now. Sorry we didn’t save any for you. Maybe next time.

And then the birthday party that won’t end began. Because the next night we got out the same cake, put another candle on it and let Oliver have a go. He was a little bit afraid of the flaming cake in a dark room both nights, but managed to get over it enough for us to get a decent birthday picture.

And then he opened his present, we played around a bit, and the tired, sick birthday boy went to bed.

But do you think I was going to let his first birthday pass without making a cake especially for him? Not on your life. I gave him a few days to recover and today I made him a monkey cake*. It’s actually a banana cake cleverly disguised as a monkey cake. And the monkey face is cleverly made of coconut.

And the wee one stuffed as much as he could into his mouth and then realized he was really tired and would rather go to bed. Which is where he is right now.

You might think that is the end of the birthday story, but you would be wrong. We’ve still got the birthday bash with friends coming up. We had to reschedule because something about puking babies makes parents a little skittish about bringing their own wee ones over to play. And this particular mom wasn’t too excited about getting a party ready while the birthday boy was languishing in his crib. Nor about the birthday boy doubling as the party pooper.

So we get to celebrate this little munchkin one more time. No complaints here. He’s only going to be one once. And it’s kind of a big deal.

*I’m kind of on a smitten kitchen bender these days. I have not been disappointed in a recipe yet.
I don’t like making these decisions

I don’t like making these decisions

Oliver is sick. For the past three days he’s been pretty lethargic. He slept most of today. He doesn’t have much of an appetite and he has vomited 4 of the last 5 times I’ve nursed him. This last part is the part that worries me the most. I assume it is my milk that is triggering it because it happens within minutes, if not seconds, of him finishing nursing. He doesn’t seem as interested in nursing (probably because the loss of appetite?) but I don’t know if he is really ready to wean, or if I am ready to wean him. It’s not like I wasn’t expecting to wean him soon because Simon weaned a few weeks after his first birthday and Oliver turns 1 on Thursday, but I don’t want to wean a sick baby. I want to wean a healthy baby.

(Pardon me for taking pictures before I helped him out of the box.)

Help me sort this out. Could the milk be causing him to throw up? Do I bother pumping to keep up my supply until he has recovered, and then end up weaning him a few weeks later? Or is it okay if I just let things go and use this illness as an easy way to wean?

I know that this is ultimately my decision (or maybe things are going to happen whether I want them to or not), but I’d appreciate any insights or words of encouragement you may have to offer.

Home Improvements Round 1

Home Improvements Round 1

During our first month or two in Brooklyn we bought a couple of pints of paint: blue, green, and orange. We used it to paint a shelf, some peg board, and Simon’s toy box. The leftovers have since been packed and moved to two different apartments with no apparent future other than “you never know.”

Well, now we know. Shelves is the answer. Our kitchen was sadly lacking in cupboard space (welcome to New York) as well as counter space (ditto) and we needed a place to put our jars of dry goods.

Problem solved. And now I am really excited to have a pantry someday. I also want to paint the rest of the cupboards blue and put black handles on them. Sadly, we’re renters so that’s going to have to wait for “someday” as well.

Micah also rigged up this nice box shelf to put all of our books so they no longer crowd the back of the couch and get lost in the cushions. Awesome.

More projects are in the planning stages, but I’m still feeling good about the transition to a new place. I say that as if we haven’t been here for almost two months, but honestly, when you spend nearly two years trying to fit your life into the space you have and then have to start again with a new space, having made as much progress as we have feels really good. And maybe we’ll even have pictures up before next September. Maybe.

The Curious Incident of the Car in the Night-Time

The Curious Incident of the Car in the Night-Time

Simon’s car was sitting on the living room rug when I woke up the other morning. Suspicious. We’d spent several minutes the night before searching for it so he could take it to bed with him. How did it get out there when Simon was still sleeping? Curious indeed.

We were puzzled, but didn’t know what to make of it. Maybe I would confront Simon with the puzzle when he woke up. But as we were getting ready to go later that morning, Simon beat me to the punch. Maybe he was weighed down with guilt and needed to confess. Maybe he needed to tell me about this strangely vivid dream. In any case he said, “Mom, can I tell you a story?” Of course, child, tell away!

This is his story:

“Last night, when Abby came home, she waked me up and I wanted to play but she said it wasn’t time to play and then I was hungry and I wanted a cheese stick but Abby couldn’t find a cheese stick so she asked me if I wanted some circle cheese but I didn’t want any and then I went to sleep.”

Hmmm. Fascinating story. Could it have been made up? A dream perhaps? I could personally verify that he had been awake when I went to bed around midnight, but had no idea when Abby came home. Would she corroborate the story? Indeed she would. But with slight variations:

She came home at 1:00 in the morning, and Simon, sitting at the dining room table gave her a bit of a start.

He was hungry and wanted breakfast.

It’s not time for breakfast.

He wanted to play.

He could play in his room.

He wanted to play in the living room.


He wanted a cheese stick.

There aren’t any cheese sticks, but would he like some provolone?

No thanks, it’s time to sleep.

And the car, forgotten in the blur of the sleepless night, sat forlorn on the rug until the morning came and the parents wondered if it hadn’t sprouted legs and come out on its own.

It Almost Looks Like Winter

It Almost Looks Like Winter

We were just about to get started with Family Home Evening tonight when rain and hail started pounding outside. We ran to the window and watched it fall, then Micah went to get a piece of hail for Simon to see. Simon ate it. (“It’s ice!” we told him, and he likes ice.) We went to the front door to see how it covered the cars and ran down the street. Simon kept finding pieces of hail and eating them, even though I told him not to. Oliver cried when one of our neighbors who was watching the storm as well looked at him. Our neighbor was kind enough to take off his hood in an effort to make Oliver happy, but it didn’t work. Micah went back in to get the camera. We saw flashes of lightning and camera flashes and lots of people standing in doorways and windows. Then we went back inside and finished our business. They boys are asleep, but it is still raining. And it looks like it’s not going to let up all week.



On Monday night, I had the urge to start calling Oliver “Squishy” and I can’t shake it. I’ve been calling him Squishy all week now. Or Squish. Or Little Squish. Or Little Squishy. I don’t know why. This has never happened to me before and I find it somewhat strange. He’s actually starting to respond to it.

He’s also starting to say “Please.” For real. At least I think it is real. We’ve been teaching him to sign “more please” for a few months, and he has signed “more” a few times (although not consistently). But the past few days he has been saying “Please.” Sometimes he signs “more” and then says “please.” Of course, it sounds more like “peas” or “pea” but I think it’s pretty awesome.

And we’ve gotten him to tell us what a cow says a few times. Just for the record, both of our children think that a cow says, “Bbbb” or possibly “Boo.” Totally appropriate for the season. Maybe we’ll have Little Squish go as a ghost cow for Halloween, which is scarier than being a ghost and cuter than being a cow. Perfect. Then again, maybe we’ll recycle a previous costume from his older brother. That could be cool, too, right?

Mr. Goat

Mr. Goat

Meet my son, Simon Si-Si Silly Billy Goat Bunny Rabbit Mr. Goat Heiselt. You can call him “Mr. Goat” if you would like. Mr. Goat has an imaginary friend named Oliver. He has a best friend named Daniela. He has a nursery friend named Henry. And he has a school friend named Remy. These are all real people, even his imaginary friend, who also happens to be his brother. Unless Imaginary Oliver is different from Brother Oliver. I haven’t figured that out yet. Oh, and by the way, you can call Mr. Goat’s brother Mr. Camel. His mother is Mr. (sometimes Mrs.) Monkey and his father is Mr. Giraffe.

Mr. Goat. would like to take the Long Island Railroad train (which only has one door). He would also like to take the Short Island Railroad train. When he goes to school, he is going take the J train to the school bus. He is going to go to high school with Daniela.

Oh, and Mr. Goat loves loves loves his red sweatshirt. Much to his Mr. (Mrs.?) Monkey’s consternation. It is a lovely sweatshirt, I admit. But does he have to wear it everywhere? When it is hot outside? When he is running around? When he is sweating? When he is painting? I had my own favorite sweatshirt when I was his age, so I can hardly fault him, but sometimes I’d like to hide it where he’ll never find it again.