Possibly the most versatile word in the English language.

Eliot seems to comprehend so much that these days we are often able to have conversations. We talk while we're building blocks, about which one should go where and whether it's time to knock the tower over. We talk while we're playing cars, about whose car is whose and big crashes. When I ask him to throw something in the trash, he runs and does it. When I say, "It's time to go to Sandy's house," he goes to the hall closet and says, "Coat? Hat?"

Because of these growing layers of communication, I sometimes forget that he is just two years old. Not even two, yet. And so when, in the car on the way home from town, he asks, "Juice?" I hand him his juice box and say, "Okay, but please be very careful not to squeeze it."

That is what I say. What he HEARS is, "Okay, blah, blah, blah, SQUEEZE IT."

And then I hear, "Uh-oh!"

The dreaded "Uh-oh!" Those words are frighteningly familiar to the ears of any mother of a toddler. They make us squirm with anxiety because "Uh-oh!" can mean so many different things.

Sometimes "Uh-oh!" means, "I dropped my baby doll on the floor." No big deal.
Or, "My sock just fell off." Again, not exactly cause for a heart attack.

Then again, sometimes, "Uh-oh!" means, "Huh, will you look at that? Turns out matchbox cars DON'T float when you put them in the toilet."

Or, "Mom, instead of giving the cat one scoop of kibble, like you suggested, I gave him THE ENTIRE BAG and now there's kibble covering the floor of the utility room. From wall to wall."

And then there's the scenario in which "Uh-oh!" actually means, "Somehow juice just exploded out of this box and is running down my coat and carseat straps and puddling under my crotch. Gee, too bad you're busy driving and can't turn around and get the juice box from me before I squeeze it AGAIN. Because I'm just curious whether there's still any juice in the box."

Some days I feel like we spend the entire day just moving from one "Uh-oh!" to the next. Some days it's exhausting. Some days it's fun. Most days I learn something. For instance, only rookie parents hand a kid a juice box in a moving vehicle.

And tomorrow will be Monday again.

So much activity lately! On Thursday Eliot and I met Tai, Kami, and Millie for lunch at the McDonald's playland. This, of course, is strictly forbidden because of the long-going McDonald's ban Eli and I initiated back in...when...2003? Something like that. So I ate McNuggets for the first time in approximately six years. I have to admit, they were divine. In a disgusting, unidentifiable, compressed meat sort of way.

I have a growing collection of photos of Eliot making this face. It's because he says "cheese!" everytime I point the camera at him. And this is what his face does when he says, "cheese!" What a goofball.



Later that evening, Eli and I went to an Illini basketball game. A good time was had by all, even though I still didn't come home with a giant foam finger. Someday...





Friday I got a haircut and had my eyebrows waxed. No pictures, but the cut is not all that stellar anyway. It's okay. The real thrill was getting my hair washed. I LOVE having people wash my hair. There's really little better than getting my hair washed. I think I actually find it more relaxing than massage. Wait...yep...more relaxing than massage. For sure.

Saturday we spent at Ma Ma's, where Eliot was happy to sample some extra filling for the chocolate pie she was making. And yes, my kid is almost two and still has his nuk. Don't judge me.



Zayda was less happy to get her picture taken. It's mean of me to post it here, but, well, it's me we're talking about, so here she is. I'm fairly sure that's her "Rachel" face. Or one of the incarnations of the "Rachel" face, anyway.



Sunday was spent at Pa's house--again, no pictures. I crashed in the easy chair while Eliot played with Zayda and Pam cooked and cleaned (of course) and Elecia knitted. And Pa napped on the couch. And then ran off to work on something. (of course) We're all pretty predictible, it seems.

I cannot believe that today is the first of March. Where is this year rushing off to? Slow down, you! But bring warm weather soon.

Little John.

I've definitely been neglecting ye olde blog lately. I took a bit of time this evening to dump pictures off my camera and onto my computer and came across these gems. I think they're a great example of pictures that aren't anywhere near technically perfect (the lighting and color are terrible) but that are SO perfect in terms of telling a story.





Eliot loves, loves, LOVES his Pa Pa Heicher. We spend many a Sunday morning at their house and Eliot follows Pa Pa around as he gets ready for church. He shaves with him, brushes his teeth with him; they spit into the sink at the same time together. You get the picture. My mom calls Eliot "Little John" because he looks so much like him, with the distinctive Heicher eyebrows and all, but it's an appropriate name in terms of behavior as well. He's basically a mini-me for Eli's dad.

Let's just hope he doesn't inherit Pa Pa's penchant for the Three Stooges and all related forms of humor. Because as the saying goes around the Heicher household, "I don't go in for that, Merle."

Scary movie selections.

This evening Eliot reached for a videotape and wanted to put it in the VCR. I looked at his choice--Halloween II--and shook my head. "Don't think so, buddy." For now he's going to have to stick with Momma's collection rather than choosing from Daddy's favorites, which include mostly zombies, aliens, and other sinister creatures.

We went with The Sound of Music instead. I've been waiting awhile to introduce him to Julie Andrews, but I thought it was time. I popped in the tape, which hadn't been rewound, and we found ourselves right in the middle of "Do-Re- Mi." And he was captivated! Score! That sequence features several of his "favorite things" (hehe) including a horse, a train, other children, and singing and dancing. What could be more fun? (Well, except maybe Disney's Cars, which he's been hooked on for awhile now. Gaa...)

I only fell in love with The Sound of Music during my video store clerking days. I quickly realized that my job there was too hectic and busy to allow for any actual movie watching, but if I put on musicals to play, I could at least get caught up in the singing from time to time. I took to showing familiar favorites from my childhood, like The Sound of Music and Annie, to make the nights go faster. As I gained in seniority there, it was my choice on the overhead TV's more often than not, and the other clerks groaned when I'd subject them to The Sound of Music over and over. "Seriously, do we have to watch that AGAIN?" they'd complain. "Yes. Yes, you do. Because I said so." Turns out, this was great training for parenthood.

So today, The Sound of Music; tomorrow, Sister Act II! :)

I sat down with Molly's mom yesterday and we talked. I could see her in Bobbi's face, so plainly that I wondered why I'd never noticed how much Molly looked like her mother.

Bobbi talked about the months and days leading up to Molly's death. I listened as she pieced together parts of Molly's story that I didn't know. Because we had started growing apart years ago. Because I lived four hours away. Because she could no longer look me in the eyes or call me on the phone. Because of my own guilt, my feelings that my own happiness was too much to ask her to bear.

I have pondered the "what if's" for so long. What if I had tried to stay closer to Molly? What if I had called her that night? What if she had called me? Is there anything I could have done or said that would have made any difference?

And I don't know. I'll never know. But now I know what I would have said to her, what I would still say if I could talk to her one last time.

I would say,
"Molly, I understand.
You are not a burden.
You are magical.
I will always love you."

Note to self.

When spending the weekend with a bald man, bring your own shampoo.

On bravery.

I'm driving to Chicago this afternoon, and I expect to hit the city right around rush hour. This scares the hell out of me, but also excites me. I'm feeling alive in a way I haven't in a very long time...possibly ever. I'm just sad it took me this long to wake up from that coma.