Halloween

First, I have to apologize. I took terrible pictures of the Halloween season, and this is late anyway. Oh well. This is for you, Anne. For Halloween this year, we went as Peter Pan, Wendy, Tinkerbell, and one of the lost boys (dressed up as a bear).
Such a cute Tinkerbell! Half the time she decided she wanted to be Thumbelina instead.

At the pumpkin patch.

Again at the pumpkin patch.

But no pictures of the actual pumpkins. (Would you tar and feather me if you knew we never carved them? I know, I'm a terrible person.) And now I must go. The baby needs to be tickled.

Cookies

1 cup butter
1 cup sugar
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla
3 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp salt
1 pkg chocolate chips
1 cup chopped nuts
Cream the butter until very creamy. Add the sugar and eggs and beat very well. Add vanilla and dry ingredients. Add nuts and chocolate chips. Bake at 350 for 8-10 minutes.

It's probably a pretty standard recipe, but it actually worked, so for me it's magic. I think the secret is the oven temperature. I must have been baking cookies too hot before. Enjoy!

Two

My least favorite part of two is that I am never right. It doesn't matter what the issue is, big or small, I am wrong. If I'm invited to her tea party, I invariably sit in the wrong seat. When it's time to put pajamas on, I choose the pair that are currently out of favor (even if she did insist on wearing them last night). Whichever cookie I offer MUST be the one with fewer chocolate chips, because obviously I can't count as well as she can. I am an evil, horrible tyrant when I insist that yes, it IS nap time. When I put her into her car seat, she wants to get in by herself. If I decide I can be patient and wait the ten minutes it takes her to get in all by herself, she whines and demands that I help her. Every sentence I utter is contradicted. I respect her independence. I think it's great that she can assert herself now, and I want her to be able to do things for herself and make decisions about her world. I'm just a little tired of always, always being wrong.

(Incidently, there are many things I love about two, including her spunkiness, that she obviously wants me to be happy, that she often tells me she loves me with no promptings, and she is absolutely the best at playing pretend.)

I did it!

My entire adult life I have been unsuccessful at baking chocolate chip cookies. They never, never, never turn out. Sometimes I cry. Usually I vow I will never make them again. Yesterday it was make cookies or spend another hour playing barbies. (Honestly, why does my two-year-old play with barbies?!) She vetoed the nobakes that I wanted to make. I can get those to work, most of the time. I accidentally mentioned chocolate chip and her mind was made up. It had "chocolate" in the title. OF COURSE she wanted to make them! So I gave in. And they turned out great! It was a miracle, I tell ya. A miracle. So thank you to Caroline, who gave me the recipe months ago. It's a keeper.

Chocolate love

The other day I was telling Isaac about a dream I had. I'd met a woman in an underground parking lot who was illegally selling German chocolate. (I'm not sure what was illegal about it.) In the middle of the story, Lizzy grabbed my chin and pulled me to look eye to eye with her. She said, "Where is that chocolate, Mommy!" She thought I was holding out on her. Poor girl has never had German chocolate.

Daddy's Girl

Lizzy is definitely a Daddy's girl. She always has been. Nothing makes her happier than playing with Isaac. Sometimes it's so extreme that she becomes anti-Mommy. Yesterday I finished nursing Barak and went to find the other half of my family. When I walked into the room, she started screaming, "No! Go away. Don't play with us, Mommy!" Isaac asked why I couldn't play, too, and she said, "Because I don't love Mommy."
Whenever I try to get her out of the crib in the morning she screams for her dad. As much as she doesn't want to be asleep anymore, she wants me even less. I know she's only two. I know there's a (relatively) new baby in the house. That doesn't make it any better being the less preferred parent.
Meanwhile, my infant has decided that he can only sleep if he's being walked around. Any time I wanted to sit down last night he wailed.

Baby Faces

I love this little guy whether he's happy:

Or sad:

He makes the best faces. I love it when he shows off his double chins.