Pardon Me, Have You Seen My Head?

Among my father's talents was his ability to make wicked-scary scarecrows. I recall one Halloween party, I was perhaps 9 or 10, when he hung a dead guy from the shower head in the guest bathroom. I watched him put it up and yet I was terrified to go inside the creepy, green-lit powder room. (I'm pretty sure I didn't pee until that thing was taken down).

Every year we put up our own, far-less scary version on the front steps. He's always clad in my oldest, most well-loved USC sweatshirt. Sometimes he's battling it out with a UCLA scarecrow, crushing him under his boot (as it should be).

This year the crows are arranged to pick lovingly from the cavity that should otherwise house his head, hay pours forth from his belly and gnarled hands pat the pumpkin near his feet. Harry helped me stuff him, pretty baffled by this activity, I think. As soon as the kids are old enough I'll get them to add their own embellishments....maybe we'll make some kiddie scarecrows out of their jeans. Our own little family of zombies, right here in Rosemont.

A Boo-tiful Day

We had no idea what Harry would be for Halloween -- a parent has only so many opportunities to pick a costume before their child's desire for comic book characters kicks in. I had hoped we could manage a "Sir Topham Hatt" costume, but the idea that I had time to whip-up a top hat and tailcoat was laughable -- really, I laughed. Aloud.

So when my friend Tina shipped us over a bulging box of hand-me-downs from her son Tote, including a pair of railroad stripped overalls, well....it was clear. One stop at the State railroad museum during our trip to Sacramento to buy a hat and voila!! Harry the train engineer. Charlotte was easy. I found a super-cute pumpkin witch get-up at a children's shop. Of course she rejected the hat, like any good infant, and I had to put her little orange tutu over some black sweats to keep her warm. The kids dressed up for their Halloween debut on Sunday for Del Ray's annual Halloween parade. Only 5-THOUSAND or so participants. Our small town parade has gone mammoth, but the kids really enjoyed it (and so did we). Charlotte, I'd like to note, waved and blew kisses (!) down the parade route. We have the makings of a Tournament of Roses Parade queen on our hands.

Sushi Baby

It was right after Paul and I wed, a week after the honeymoon, that we were in my hometown of Belvedere, Calif., in a pizza shop. I have never forgotten the little boy and his mother who took a table next to ours. She opened a menu and began to plot their order. But the 5-year-old was unimpressed. "I want sushi!" he whined. I distinctly remember hoping that one day my kids would like sushi as much as I do.

On Friday night, with Paba visiting, we ordered from our local favorite, Momo Sushi, for some takeout. Harry had already eaten, if you can call what he does these days eating (my one-time linebacker has totally lost interest in food, how can that be?) and raced to the table. Surveying a large plate of nigiri, he selected a piece of rice topped with orange fish eggs. Scooping the eggs out with his finger and depositing them in his mouth he smiled wide and declared "I love it!" This is a boy who has never declared love for anything except his parents while under duress.

"She's Mine!"

Sabrina really digs Charlotte, so much so that she tells people at the park that she's her baby sister. Which is probably just fine with Harry. Yesterday the three of them canoodled in the wagon after examining what Harry has started calling "my pumpkin patch," the assortment of gourds sitting on our side porch. He is very proud.

"Say Cheese!"

Class photos have come a long way, baby. Gone are the days of slicked-down hair and cheesy backdrops. Now school photographers take kids outside and let them pose. It's like they finally figured it out -- the cuter the photos, the more mom and dad will buy (no we didn't, Harry already has a bazillion photos to his credit). And don't think for a second you only get one to choose from -- we were presented with a portfolio.

The best part, I think, was the class photo. Harry and his friend Luke, seriously, like twins in this picture. They're seated next to each other, top left.

Calling the Great Pumpkin

It all started last night when I told Harry we'd soon be visiting a pumpkin patch. He'd been roaming the house shouting "I wanna go to Halloween!" Efforts to explain that Halloween is an event and not a place, were, well, useless. But he clearly gets pumpkins and as we drove to the patch at Immanuel Church-on-the-Hill in Alexandria to fetch us a few, he explained that he'd be bringing home "the big one."

Fortunately, at the patch, which is sponsored annually by our church (click the link to see a YouTube Video about the pumpkin sale), every pumpkin looked like the big one. So, we rolled in the bags of hay, we climbed over the pumpkins like they were rocks (I'm praying no one saw this but me) and we ate a cupcake to celebrate what will be THE finest day of the year: Halloween.

We hauled home a trunk full of orange gourds to support our local charities. Even some dried corn cobs, which I had intended to hang on the front door but became an unintended snack for Charlotte.

Sometimes Less Isn't More

Today's photo is brought to you by The Washington Post's redesign. I think Charlotte's crumpling pretty much sums it up.

Cake Wrecks...Inspired Reading

Yes, yes. We've been a little cake obsessed for the last month. Birthdays have a way of doing that. Really, no one wants to hear more about frosting, least of all me. But I would be so totally remiss if I did not encourage you to read this painfully, painfully funny story from this week's NYT "When the Icing on the Cake Spells Disaster." If you do not have tears streaming down your face by the time you finish the annecdote about the "flash drive" (trust me), I will personally give you back the three minutes you spent reading it. When you're done, you must take a look at the blog "Cake Wrecks" for pictures of some of the most offending confectionary (I just made up a word, alert Websters).

A Big Potty Mouth Salute

Here at Potty Mouth we like to know our readers, are, well...reading. This week, our first-ever salute to the "fans": Bill and Bella (she's the cute furry one), who log-in regularly, we're told, to make sure Harry and Charlotte haven't burned the place down. As Bill tells it, Potty Mouth keeps him up-to-date "on your darlings' bowel & food-slinging practices."

Bill, we're always happy to oblige.

Party Girl

We're one of those households that believes a birthday should last at least a week. Thus we hosted a second party for Charlotte last Thursday with family and Charlotte's closest admirers (her godmommy, aunties and grandmother, among them). She favors pasta, so I made my grandmother's "famous" Neapolitan sauce and meatballs. A big hit with the toddler/infant set. The presents are open. The cake has been gobbled up and yes, my dear Charlotte, your first year of life is officially behind us.

In that vein we had our all-important one-year pediatrician's appointment this afternoon. Our girl is 22 pounds (that's the 70th percentile for those of you keeping score), still pretty short (30th percentile) and indeed still has that whoppin' big Barnes family noggin (95th percentile). Gone is the Soy formula! We're moving to milk tonight and turning that car seat forward so that she can get a good glimpse of the world as it flies by on I-66. We're walking a few steps every day and our verbal repertoire is up to about three words: "hi," "bye" and, we think, "Typo." So, really, on to year two -- and not a cupcake too soon.

Walk the Walk

It's official! Miss Charlotte yesterday took her first steps, besting her brother's record by four days. Paul and I are excited to see if she'll take off on two feet or return to crawling (which Harry decided was still a faster mode of travel).

It was a moment -- played out on our back lawn -- that further crystallized my desire to work from home. How wonderful to be there for that special milestone rather than hear about it from the nanny.

Charlotte was nearly asleep last night in her father's lap when she spied me bring a piece of pink birthday cake into the living room to share with Harry. While she did not walk over, she popped off the sofa and cruised as fast as her little legs would carry her to get a couple forkfuls. Even Typo queued-up for a bite. What can I say? It was good cake!

Bow Head

I only pulled my wallet out once at Saturday's Art on the Avenue in Del Ray (thankyouverymuch), to buy this big, floofy pink bow. While it is adorable, all future bows for Charlotte's noggin will be purchased from our friend Katie, who has turned her measurable talents to making custom ribbons for little girls (that's Oh My Darling Designs). I know she's going to make a big splash. We received three of her wonderful ric-rac flower ribbons, each adorned with a button, for Charlotte's birthday and adore them all (see right).

Happy Birthday Charlotte!

It was a festival of toddlers and the soon-to-be-minted toddlers yesterday at our home for the celebration of Charlotte's first birthday. We bounced and bounced and bounced and bounced and squealed and bounced some more. We gorged on a precious cake courtesy the Hollin Hall Pastry shop (while I did not wield the pastry bag, I will take credit for the design) and we enjoyed gorgeous weather and good friends, both big and small, to mark our daughter's first year of life.

The toddlers (all 18 of them...yes...18 toddlers in our tiny back yard) monopolized the moonbounce, but I have assured Charlotte that she will soon be having her own playdates to do as Disney's famed Tigger and bounce bounce bounce. She and Harry did get to enjoy the bounce house before we were mobbed with friends and I think she will be an addict like her big brother, sliding face-first down the inflated ramp and landing with a satisfied thud. It was positively a cavalcade of toddler mania. (video of said madness courtesy our friend Missy, see below.)


Charlotte received some lovely gifts that her brother already assumes are his, including the hands-down-favorite -- a musical teapot with faux plastic petit fours courtesy our pals Lucy and Hannah. When you pour the pot you hear gurgling water, which is Harry's cue to put spout to mouth and wait.

A very big thank you to all of our friends who helped us make it a special afternoon by just being
there, and those who helped by helping (my godmother Cynthia always comes in in the clutch and our bestest moonbounce monitor, Auntie Cathy).

Charlotte and Harry will never know their Grandma Maria, who passed many years before they were born. But she was the finest party giver I've ever known-- truly Martha before Martha was Martha (her only transgression was serving a gourmet, homemade rum cake at my 4th birthday party. While I cried, I recall all the other kids loved it). I know she was there too yesterday helping us fluff up the crape paper and making sure the lollipops and pinwheels, favors for the kids, were just so. It would have been swell had she reminded me from the great beyond to buy plastic cups but I'm going to take the fall for that one. You're off the hook mom.

So, it's on to year two. Thank you sweetpea for being such a wonderful little girl. I don't want you to grow up too fast, but I'd be lying If I said I wasn't excited about braiding your hair and taking you shopping for your first pair of maryjanes. We love you!

Butterfly Kisses for ZaZa

It's fall, and a little chilly suddenly, which has meant the unveiling of Charlie's winter clothes, particularly a slew of dresses and leggings from Tea, many of them courtesy her grandmother, ZaZa (that's short for Eliza, a nickname bestowed on her by her first granddaughter, many years ago).

So a very big thank you and wet baby kisses to our cherished Z, who is coming to visit very soon. We can't wait. In the meantime, we'll be modeling all our pretty frocks.