I know, I know, BAD Mommy blogger. Too long since the last update. So long in fact that there is snow in the photos in the last post and today it is in the 80's and the daffodils have all opened. But, spring is in the air and I am full of energy (well, at least full of optimism) so here is my long overdo post!

Eleanor is now eight months old! This photo was actually taken on her 8 month birthday (I know, I deserve a round of applause or something) by my parents when they were up for a visit. Eleanor was somewhat cooperative, though far more interested in trying to pull the sign down and stick it in her mouth than in having her photo taken. Now that Eleanor has crossed the magical 8 month threshold I find people asking me "Is she crawling yet?" with that one eyebrow raised in concern that undercurrent they are trying none to hard to conceal of "Is there something wrong with her?" This bothered me when Fraser was 8 months and I heard this question, constantly, but I must say it is water off the ducks back this time around. Partly because I am no longer a first time mother and I know that there is nothing at all wrong with my baby, she will crawl when she damn well pleases, and partly because my honest answer to this questions this time around is "No, thank God!" You see I have absolutely no idea what the hell I am going to do when Eleanor starts to crawl. I barely get anything at all done these days as it is. I was not at all comforted when a friend of mine who has four children put it this way, "I thought having three kids was really pretty manageable, until my third started to crawl. Then it all went to hell in a hand basket."

Hammie has become terribly two with a vengeance. He whines like it is going out of style and has been known to throw hysterical screaming fits on the floor when I tell him he can't eat his sister's baby food. He is contrary for no reason except that he feels like being contrary and he has developed this weird scarcity complex where he feels like he must possess all food even if he has no intention of eating it. So, if we are having dinner he will start screaming that he wants Fraser's dinner even if he has eaten only one bite of his own dinner and has no intention of eating any more. Luckily for him he is almost painfully cute for much of the rest of the day, which is why I allow him to live. Hammie does absolutely everything at 110%. He loves with his whole heart and has knocked me over with the enthusiasm of his hugs. He runs with only minimal control over his body, all four limbs flying in different directions, as fast as his legs can possibly go. When he throws a fit he throws an Academy Award worthy fit (and requires an audience to truly appreciate his art).

Fraser has suddenly started to develop the ability to carry a tune in the past few weeks. It is adorable to listen to him sing now. I'm not checking into the auditions for American Idol or anything, but I can actually recognize most of the songs he is trying to sing. My personal favorite it when he sings "Out There" from Hello Dolly (which he learned from the movie Wall-E.) Here is a video of him singing it. He is a little rushed, I think the camera made him nervous. So cute I just want to hug the freaking video.

Fraser has also apparently crossed the threshold where he suddenly realizes that there are other children at the playground and wants to play with them instead of just doing his own thing. On one hand this is wonderful, and it is exciting to watch him branching out and trying new things. On the other hand it is terrifying and I have to physically force myself to sit to the side and let him try these new things on his own. Frankly, it honestly sucks. I find myself nostalgic for the days he wouldn't go onto the jungle gym without holding my hand. Today at the park some older kids (maybe age 4 through 9 or so) were playing on the Merry go round. I watched him observe for awhile, and then try to get in there and spin too. He got kicked a few times, and knocked down once, but he kept getting back in there. I was so proud of him, but so heartsick to watch him get hurt and go back for more. When his friend Julia lost her sneaker off the merry-go-round he retrieved it for her and then got down on one knee to put it back on her foot. Sure, it was just a sneaker, but there I was on the verge of tears on the edge of the playground thinking "My baby is growing up and he is just a merry-go-around away from being some one's prince charming." I know, I'm tearing up now, I'm so not cut out for this growing up thing.