Cheese with that?

I took Preston and his increasingly cheesy grin to the dentist today. The kid definitely got an A+ for tolerating the entire teeth-cleaning procedure, even the flouride treatment. I was one proud momma, as if his agreeable behavior had absolutely anything to do with my parenting skills. But I will credit his personality/temperament on this one, which perhaps I can take some fraction of genetic credit for. 

If only this temporary cooperation would translate over into the day-to-day teeth-brushing experience that is typically far from agreeable.

This weekend we gave the Burnet Park Spooktacular event a try. Safe to say that is one freebie city park event I wll not feel compelled to go to again. It did give us the chance to get some more use out of Spidey, though.

The cheese:

Oh my god, is that a normal smile?!

Rooting for our good marathoning friend Jessica; I posted this as further illustration of the absolute cheese coming out of this kid these days:

Pumpkin farm, more cheese than I can handle:

Another glorious weekend

October is full of birthdays in our family, and last week we got to help Oompa celebrate his, which for Preston meant one thing: more cake. He actually helped me make the cupcakes, but I learned from our last baking experience that applying frosting is a concept slightly beyond his understanding at this time. As in, why would you apply perfectly good frosting to perfectly good cake instead of just eating it all when it is laying in front of you?

Co-admiration of cupcake perfection.

Serious discussion of candle-blowing-out-plan.

Operationalizing the plan.

Cupcake sampling and debriefing.

 Have I mentioned lately how much I despise Blogger?! As you can see here we have transitioned from birthday to more of the Zoo Boo. Why it would not allow me to write this ABOVE this picture is beyond me. Clearly I need a blogger tutorial. Which I am never going to do. So, alas, my posts will continue to be jumbled messes of pictures and commentary in no particular order or format.
So, once again, we have gone with Spiderman for this year's Halloween costume, mostly because I couldn't find anything else that I was the slightest bit fond of, and also because re-using is most definitely within our budgetary allowance. And Preston seems to have no recollection of going as Spiderman last year, nor would he really care anyway. I suppose I could even convince him that one must always go as the same thing year to year, but this costume won't fit next year anyway, so that's a moot point.
And now, a series of cheese's:





He really wanted to climb up this particular pumpkin, but unfortunately his actual ascending skills are not very Spidey-like.

Pman footage

Video 1: Running around the amphitheater at the town of Clay park (after a 30 minute drive Saturday morning only to find swimming lessons were cancelled.) Don't mind my Darth Vader-style breathing directly into the microphone, momma's just a little out of shape.

Video 2: Dance floor at the Zoo Boo (the Halloween party the zoo throws every year.) Lots of activities, but this was my personal favorite, as the DJ was better than most clubs I've been to in the past 10 years. (It's also worth noting that in the past 3 years, I have been to NO clubs.) The video ends abruptly when Preston waves me over to the dance floor. Don't have to ask me twice, buddy! Momma loves to shake it.

Bday weekend

I must give pause to thank my parents (my mother in particular) for giving birth to me at such an opportune time of year. And credit also to the the US government for continuing to commemorate Columbus Day long past its historical appropriateness. As a result of the two combined forces, I am guaranteed a 3-day weekend every time my birthday rolls around. And now that I work parttime, I actually get a 4-day weekend (happy birthday to ME.) This particular birthday weekend was packed full of autumn-related festivities, which really have become my favorite. 

In reverse chronological order:

The Lafayette Apple Festival: Preston's 3rd consecutive year (prenatal til now), or 5th consecutive year if you count the time he was an ovum.

This was his 1st year enjoying the carnival rides (of which I only allowed him to do one; he picked the motorcycle ride, of course.) Interestingly, there was no line, and the ride operator (can I call her a carnie?) decided to take a bathroom break halfway through (some guy stepped in to sub), and the 3 kids on the ride (Preston included), got about a 5 minute ride. I was beginning to wonder when it was going to end, and Preston also started flashing me concerned looks, like, "Is this ever going to stop?"

Nevertheless, it was a motorcycle, so he thought it was pretty awesome. That was, of course, until we realized the motorcycle two cars in front of him was Spiderman-themed. Luckily I think he had had enough after the first go-around that I was able to convince him pretty easily that he would not be going again, even if it was Spiderman. 

Also a first this year: riding the pony-go-round, or whatever you call it when there are real live ponies involved. Reflecting on it now, it does rather look like more of a torture device for the poor animals, but it really makes the kids happy, and hey, that's what counts.

I'd also like to take a moment to acknowledge Preston's affinity for saying "cheese" everytime I break out the camera. And not "cheese" in the traditional way used to produce a smile, "cheese" as in; I will now exaggerate my annunciation of the word cheese in a way that pushes my cheeks back and exposes my bottom row of teeth. So now I will be in the habit of publishing the sequence of pictures I take in trying to garner one good smile out of him. And recently it's been a painstaking process.  I swear, he really is a happy kid, and has a very normal and wonderful smile (when the camera's not on him.) 

 Previous day: Rohe Farm. Up the hill from us, just a nice little family farm that puts on a small assortment of activities to accompany their pumpkin patch this time of year. They had a collection of craftily devised wheelbarrows for transporting your pumpkin/s, and Preston just LOVES a good wheelbarrow, so he was in hog heaven. 

Also, a privately-guided 4-wheeler-with-barrel-trailer tour of the farm:

Headed out on the trail (center):

Making a lap around the barn (this is getting to be like Where's Waldo; see the very center of frame)

And, more wheelbarrow: cheese?

Try again: cheese??

I give up.

And evening prior: actual birthday celebration with mom, P, and Oompa. (family census is low these days!) Preston has learned the single most important part of any birthday: the cake. 

I will not mention, however, that this served as an easy explanation as to why he received no further cake the remainder of the weekend. "Mommy's birthday is all over, buddy..." And praise the stove for serving as a secret hideout for all my baked goods, for that matter. 

(For those of you who think that's cruel; children don't need cake. Or baked goods. Atleast not on a daily basis. I, on the other hand, am a 33 year old adult. And I do.)

And lastly, for those of you who dis the Cuse (yes I just used that word), here is what an autumn sky in central NY looks like:  

Big trucks, Marcellus

As  it turns out, I just had to overcome some major technical difficulties with this particular post, so you will now be getting the abridged version, before Blogger decides to screw with me again.

Last weekend, we joined up with Wesley (and his mom and grandparents) at the Big Truck Show: The Marcellus Version. One would think it would be hard to compete with the Burnet Park Truck Show, where we witnessed a helicoptor landing; however, one would be wrong.

The  Marcellus version takes place at Saunders Quarry, an active limestone mine (thank you google), and as you will see in the following pictures, a setting that Disney couldn't compete with. Not to mention the special effects of actual down-pouring rain, (the entire time,) and subsequent creation of giant muddy waterfalls, puddles, and rivers flowing through the quarry. 

We were all pretty much soaked to the bone by the end, myself in particular, the designated baby-handler, and therefore most un-umbrella'd adult in the pack. It was incredibly fun though, because I got to witness both boys' absolute delight in every truck/tractor they climbed in (or I lifted them into). And because it wasn't actually cold out, or I would have been a miserable, freezing beeyotch (that's a technical term for those unfamiliar). And because surprisingly, for the most part, exiting the trucks went relatively smoothly. Another key factor in Mommy maintaining her cool...

That's Preston in truck #1, a snow plow. And me bundled up in my raincoat, and saggy-butt jeans.

And I think that's a stranger holding off Wesley.

The Moms and the boys. As you can see, Laura is about ready to pop with another one. The main reason why I was doing the heavy lifting that day.

This is a UPS truck. We all fit in the cockpit. Despite being in such close proximity to one another, the boys actually took turns nicely, and without any biting or hitting. Progress!

Preston doing some serious drilling.

We said no fracking!!

A monster snow-blower?? Your guess is as good as mine.

Cheese!

P and Wes racing for a turn.

Check out the scenery!! Priceless!

Lots of rocks.

CHEESE.

This is NOT Preston.  This is Wesley. Thank. God. 

Amazingly, Preston's feet were still dry by the very end. Wesley's were not. 

Chasing each other in and out of shipping container.

Last but not least, a ride in the firetruck, with a very boisterous (read: manic) volunteer firefighter at the healm, overseeing the proper use of horns and sirens (read: he made sure every kid set off every siren, providing a repeatedly jarring and deafening experience.) I was amazed Laura didn't go into labor.

"I drive a motorcycle!"

I had completely forgotten about this footage, until the other day when Preston and I were in the car, and a motorcycle drove past, and he claimed that he had, in fact, driven a motorcycle. To which, I obliged with a motherly, "You did?!?" And he said, yeah, "I drive a motorcycle with Uncle Mike!!" Oh yeah buddy, you did!

(Disclaimer: I assure you that is a Board-certified pediatrician driving a motorcycle with an un-helmeted toddler. That makes it okay.)