Yoga Clothes

Since The Roc was born, I've made a conscious effort not to leave the house in sweatpants unless I am actually jogging, which is to say never. That's one mommy cliché I'd like to avoid, along with minivans, Uggs, and jewelry with my child's name, birthdate, and/or picture on it. But I've been sick all week, and today I found myself behind on my laundry and with no food in the house, so I dragged myself out to Trader Joe's wearing what I will euphemistically describe as "yoga clothes." I figured if I embraced the whole look, from headband to running shoes, people might think I was on my way to/from the gym instead of just past caring. People take their toddlers to the gym, right?

I think The Roc was embarrassed by my lack of effort, because as soon as he got his hands on those Trader Joe's stickers, he started to decorate my sad gray hoodie. I was busy paying for groceries at the time, so it was not until several hours later that I realized I had two round floral stickers stuck to my nipples like pasties.

How I Got The Roc to Eat His Spinach

Although The Roc is a pretty adventurous eater (lobster, curry, haggis) he has an instinctive aversion to green vegetables, to the point that he will pick tiny pieces of cilantro out of his pico de gallo. But I've found a sneaky--and delicious--way to get him to eat his greens. It's a smoothie made from one banana, a cup of Trader Joe's frozen mango, a splash of milk, and a big ol' handful of fresh spinach leaves. It is not just good-for-being-full-of-spinach, it is flat-out yummy, with a minty green tint and a flavor slightly reminiscent of green tea ice cream. Trust me, you need to try this at home, whether you have kids or not.

Clever Like a Roc

The Roc has still not mastered the art of keeping secrets.

"We got you earrings!" he told his great-grandmother as he handed her her birthday present.

He loves playing hide-and-seek, which involves him telling everyone to close their eyes, running into the nearest bedroom, then shouting: "I'm in the bedroom!"

Another favorite game is sneaking up on people, although The Roc call it "snaking" up on people--which is pretty clever, considering how stealthy snakes are. The Roc, alas, is not so stealthy. "I'm snaking up on you!" he'll announce from twenty feet away.

Indeed, The Roc is honest to a fault. He has candidly--proudly, even--copped to all manner of transgressions, from peeing in the bathtub to pinching babies.

I guess it's a good thing that The Roc doesn't have a devious bone in his body (yet). Deceitfulness will snake up on him soon enough--especially if Mommy doesn't stop modelling how to cheat at croquet.

Let Sleeping Rodents Lie

A few weeks ago, The Roc and I stumbled across (not quite literally, thank goodness) a rat sleeping on the lawn. At least, that's what I told The Roc, once I finished screaming. It was still "sleeping" in the same spot several hours later, when Daddy came home and put it in the trash can so I could go outside again.

Today, per my New Year's resolution to get more exercise, I took The Roc out for a long walk in his stroller. Suddenly, I spotted a squirrel "sleeping" on the sidewalk, right in our path. "Shhh, honey, the squirrel is sleeping," I said, giving the carcass a wide berth.

To my great surprise, this squirrel really was sleeping. It woke up with a violent shudder, darted between the stroller wheels, and disappeared up a tree. The Roc laughed; Mommy screamed again.

Home Improvements

Somewhere between Christmas and the new year, our house got un-babyproofed. It started with a couple of bulky toys The Roc had outgrown, which we discreetly banished to the garage to make way for the new kitchen playset Grandmommy bought him for Christmas. Then The Roc tripped over the last remaining baby gate in the house and hurt himself, and we realized that the gate wasn't doing anything but getting in everyone's way. Out to the garage it went. Finally, we took advantage of Daddy's vacation time to dismantle the crib, having given up on The Roc relocating to his big boy bed without coercion. With the crib stowed in the garage, I rearranged The Roc's room, hoping he wouldn 't notice the missing crib so much now that he could watch the world go by outside his window while having his diaper changed. Pretty soon he'll be potty trained, the changing table will find its way to the garage, and I'll have another wall to work with. I'm thinking of putting in a giant hamster wheel.

How Much Longer Can I Milk the Santa Thing?

I caught our cat, Leroy, clawing the sofa this morning.

"Don't be naughty!" I told him, shooing him away.

The Roc overheard this and added in a stern tone: "Santa is watching!"

You Can't Spell Croquet Without The Roc

Christmas brought a bounty of new games for The Roc--bingo, dominos, croquet--and unleashed a competitive streak and a capacity for trash-talking we didn't know he possessed. The casual ruthlessness with which he sent my croquet ball flying into the rose bushes today would make his ancestors (both Viking and Okie) proud. "Now I'm the leader of the pack!" he declared. As if we've ever been under any illusions about who's in charge around here.