Private TicTac To

Most days, I like to believe that I'm still part of the family.  I even trick myself into believing that because I was their first child, they love me best somehow.  I'm the only one that gets to sleep in the bed with them, after all.  

But then other days, I know my rank.  And it's not General TicTac.  Just call me Private Ticky, ordered to clean the latrines and keep my distance.

Spare Me

If you'll recall, Wyatt has some issues with "nose-picking" .  Oh, if only it were his nose, that'd be great.  In fact, if only it were human noses, that'd be fantabulous.  Alas, that is not the case.

Guest Blog by Dina: Getting Older

5 Ways You Know You're Getting Old (revealed at a Dave Matthews Concert):

5.  You keep thinking to yourself, "Wow!  That fiddle player is amazing!"

4.  You sit by the edge of the open admission amphitheater seating so that you can only see Dave's profile, but who cares because you can get to the bathroom easily.

3.   You want to get to the bathroom easily not because of beer, but just because that's how it is now.

2.  You sneak trail mix bars and fruit in your purse into the concert.

And the final way you know you're getting old?

1.  Instead of being inspired by love, you want to tell the groping young couple in front of you "Just wait.  Get married.  Have kids.  And then let's see how much you want to slobber over each other."

Oh, and you also want to hit them...Hard.

Man's Best Friend, Not Infant's Best Friend

Landon's been around for 5 months now.  And generally speaking, I could care less.  He doesn't spit up nearly as much as Wyatt did, so really, what's in it for me?  But in the effort to welcome him to the family, I do occasionally pay attention to him.  A lick here, the graze of my tail there, etc. etc.  But he's not interested.  In fact, he's disinterested.  

I mean, look!  It's not like I'm not trying, right???  Best friends, my furry butt.  I give up.  I'll just try again some other day (like when he's 1 and drops me goldfish and cheerios like my good buddy Wyatt).

The Brothers: A Photo Series

I'm your big brother, Landon.  I love you. 

In fact, I love you so much, I'd do anything for you.

No, really.  I mean, anything.  You want me to use my pinky finger?  It's smaller...
Of course, it can't always be about you...
[Ed. note:  Hey, better Landon than me, right?]

Wyatt Knows dem Animals!

Joe is in Asia visiting second wife (yes, she's making dumplings, of course).  Dina, in an attempt to remind Joe who's number 1, and more importantly, who bred his namesake, made this video.  Isn't Wyatt cute?  And doesn't Dina's hair look terrible (which tends to happen when you're left home alone with a toddler and newborn while her husband eats juicy pork dumplings in Shanghai).  Mmmm...pork.

Worth the Wait

Yes, it's been a while since I've posted.  It's been exhausting over here.  Two kids, two adults trading colds since the second kid was born, and one neglected (but still fat) dog.  I have to pee inside the house here and there just to keep them on their feet and remind them I exist.

Ok, but on with it.  I know you've been waiting for my return.  You want to know what's going on in the To household.  Well, it's not thrilling per se, but it is, well, it is always gross.

Today, Dina was changing Landon's diaper on the changing table.  After she changed him, she noticed that he had a booger in his nose.  Being the ever dutiful mother (and slightly OCD about clear nostrils), Dina used her clean pinky finger to flick out the booger.  Well, as all of you well know, 

the dexterity of one's pinky finger is not nearly as good as, say, the pointer finger.  

As a result, Dina flicked that booger right into Landon's mouth.

That will be the topic of session one with Landon's therapist when he's thirty and has a hankering for salty stuff.

Holy crap!  There's a booger in my mouth!

Absentee Dog

Ok, I realize I've been neglectful lately.  But I'm exhausted.  Dina and Joe moved Landon into our room (thankfully not into the bed, though!  I have my limits).  That kid is always waking me up!  I've taken to sleeping under the sheets at the way bottom of the bed just to get a little peace and quiet.  And frankly, I'm not really sure what's going on with my readership is out there?  Is anyone out there (other than Auntie Amy?)?

Fine, I'll just satiate you all with a quick debrief:

- Dina no longer weighs more than Joe, but she's still fat.

- Despite my own diet since January, I weigh exactly the same.  That's right people, even though they are starving me, I weigh exactly the f***ing same.  Just give me some dang treats now.

- Wyatt is still a midget, weighing in at the 10th %ile at his last doctor's appointment.

- Landon is not a midget, now weighing a whopping 8 pounds, 14 ounces.  That means, folks, he's gaining more than an ounce a day, which really means that Dina's boobs must be really really really juicy.

- Joe is not fat, is not skinny, but juuuuust right.  He's presently the only one that can fit his pants from a year ago (or, in Landon's case, a week ago).  I don't really need to know I'm fat - that's why I don't wear pants.  

And just to buy me some posting reprieve for a couple of weeks, some photos:

Besito for Landon

I'm still cute, pay attention to me, Mom

A little overwhelmed with Mommy love?

I'm littler but might be as cute as my older bro

QT with Landon

He was pretending to be asleep, but I think he was just trying to maneuver in for some kisses on me.  Fresh!

Welcome to our World, Kid

Landon Joseph To, born March 19, 2008.  Already knows how to kick it old school.

Guest Blog: Rants of a Crazy Pregnant Woman

Hello folks. I'm 36 weeks pregnant and my doctor told me on Friday that I'm likely to go into labor anytime now. By this time with Wyatt, I was already in the hospital delivering him. So I should just thank my lucky stars that I'm at home right now in front of the computer, but instead, I just need one good bitch session, at least while I can blame it on the pregnancy!

My various rants:
* I weigh more than Joe. That really really really blows.
* Even though Joe and I put TicTac on a diet, I actually still give her treats. 1. I'm trying to curry her favor. And 2. I'm fat, and misery loves company.
* I'm a little sad that I won't be pregnant anymore, as it's given me a solid sense of entitlement (as in "I'm sorry, but are you going to get up from that chair because you know, I am pregnant, and well, you seem perfectly able and healthy to stand...").
* If my 17 month old son cracks his big head against my nose or elbows me hard in the eye (in a single afternoon, for example), can I hit him back? What if it really really really hurts?
* Second pregnancies don't generate as much interest as first pregnancies. By friends, family, or frankly, myself, too.
* I wonder a lot of things about labor and delivery this time (will it be longer, shorter, will it hurt more, will the baby be bigger, etc.), but mostly I wonder if I'll be able to eat something before I deliver. Sometimes, ice chips don't cut it.
* On the topic of food, should my first meal after the birth be salami, a creamy soft brie, or a spicy tuna roll?
* Have I been breaking out like 12 year old pre-teen girl idolizing Ryan Seacrest (don't tell her yet, she'll learn soon enough he's "unavailable," well, at least to her gender) because of hormones, or because I've been gorging on junk food like a cherubic pre-teen the night before my parents send me away to fat camp?
* My taste in TV is just awful these days (can we say hello to Make me a Supermodel and Rock of Love?? And why exactly does Brett keep that skanky Kristy Joe on the show anyway? The woman needs some eyebrows!!).
* I have 2 big bottles of Sapphire Gin in my fridge that haven't been touched since dating Joe. Ohhhhh...good times.

Whew. Glad I got all of that off my chest. Now I can obsess over other minutiae like whether it really makes a difference when you use magic gift tape versus plain ol' scotch tape when you wrap a present. Don't people just care about the present, and not the wrapping anyway?

Feeling ripe and juicy!

Enjoying Freedom Before Lockdown

It's coming. Wyatt doesn't know it. But you can't fool me again. I know what's happening. Dina's belly (and perhaps ass, but don't tell her I said that!) has been getting progressively bigger, and she looks pretty close to near-explosion. She's going to burst a new baby any time now.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.

So until then (and I hope that then is really a far-off then, as opposed to a tomorrow then), we are trying to enjoy our freedom before all hands are on deck, back-up troops are called in (i.e., grandma and Wyatt's nanny), and I get neglected for an indefinite period of time that I can only hope will be measured in months as opposed to years (yes, feel sorry for me; feel give-me-peanut-butter sorry for me).

Crissy Field action shots

Happy 17 Month Bday, Wyatt!

Thanks for dropping those crumbs on the ground!

How Do You Spend Your Sundays?

I spend mine lounging on the custom-upholstered sofa in the living room (as opposed to the slipcovered couch in the family room -- why get something dirty that you can clean easily?). Well, not Wyatt and Joe. They spend their Sundays roping their poor, unsuspecting friends (namely, Tim and Julien) into going to Wondercon. That's right, the festival for comic book afficionados (and that's the kind word for it).

Yes, you're right. Joe's wearing a Green Lantern shirt and Wyatt's got a Spiderman one.

I see you're also a nerd.

He Works Hard for His Money

Now that Baby #2 is nearing, we figured Wyatt needs to start to earn his keep. Here he is, working his new job at the cannery.

Who's the Master of the House?

It's no secret that Joe and Dina put me on a diet starting the New Year. The goal is to get me back down to fighting weight, i.e., under 30 pounds.

What they don't know is that when they put me on a diet, they started a war with me...a mental war. And folks, I'm glad to report that I'm winning. Here's what happens. They instigated the fight by serving me 1/2 a cup less of kibble (that brown circular stuff that tastes like cardboard). I've retaliated with a full-out, full-force, aggressive attack on their guilt. That's right, people. I don't care whether the guilt is Catholic, Chinese, or Jewish -- guilt is an effective weapon.

I whimper at my bowl. I cry. I beg with my pleading beagle eyes. When they sit down for dinner, I sit by their leg. I paw at them, repeatedly, just to let them know I'm there. If they sit down at the couch for a snack, I jump up and sit right there next to them. My soulful eyes burning their meager walls of resistance, until they let me lick the bowl or give me a tiny morsel. Oh Mommy, oh Daddy, what's a tiny little piece of your bread going to do? I can't gain that much weight from just one grain of rice, can I?

That's right folks, I may have a clementine-sized brain and they may have their fancy Ivy League degrees, but who's got the skills?

Case in point: My 300 calorie Valentine's Day gift.

Who's Numero Uno???

The beagle, that is!
Best in SHOW!!! How you like me now???

I'm Sorry...

But I really am so proud: (in The New York Times, even!)

The Perfect Present

I couldn't think of a better present to give Dina on her birthday than this:"Uno", the beagle, placing Best in Group at the Westminster Dog Show. Go beagle go!! Best in Show here we come!!!

Ok, It's Not Just Dina

Evidently, Joe likes to get stoopid, too.

You Can Almost See Me...

If you look very carefully, I'm the furry head at the bottom:

Avery, Julien, Wyatt, Uncle Jon, Liam, Zoe & Zadie (or is that, Zadie, then Zoe?)

Don't feel sorry for me, though. I had a blast at this belated holiday get together, even if I was ignored. These tots dropped so much food on the floor! There was no way Dina or Joe could regulate my caloric intake that night!

So Bored by Their Antics

We all go a little stir crazy when Joe goes away for one of his "business trips" (read: see second wife in China, eat dumplings, get massage, happy ending only few RMB more). I know for a fact that I get walked less, I get less treats, I get less cuddling, I get one less face to lick clean...well, what I get is basically that I don't get anything much! But can't we all just take a chill pill while he's gone? Let's just relax and hang out. Do we have to get stoopid (and yes, it's deserving of the the double-o's)?You'd think they never seen a camera before. Note me, in the background, showing them that I'm too cool for this shit.

House Rules

Whenever we visit my grandma in Los Angeles, there are some house rules:

1. Don't lay on the white couches.
2. Don't pee on the Moroccan rug.
3. Don't poop in the house, anywhere.
4. Don't eat the cat food.

Some would say *F* that noise. But I just say, feel free to call me rebel.

Check me out grandma...and I was just running around in your dirty ivy before this pic.