Playing in the front "yard" with Ike

Putting on shoes

Opening and closing the door

Making sure Mom comes too

Up and down the steps


Picking up a stick


Banging on the light pole

Last week Blake called me while Isaac and I were on a walk. Naturally, Isaac wanted the phone and I didn't want him to throw it on the concrete. So I said, "Look, a stick!" and he forgot all about the phone in quest of a stick. Awesome.

Isn't real life lousy?

Is what my sister said to me yesterday. Totally agree. I've gotten used to student life--Blake goes to school early, comes home early, studies in the evening. Third year of medical school has been a rude awakening. For example, last Saturday Blake had 24 hour call- 7 AM to 7 AM Sunday. Monday he left at 4:30 AM, came home 8 PM. Tuesday same. Wednesday same. Thursday he got home at 5:15! Friday he left at 4:30 AM, had overnight call, and was home at 6 AM. Is this post about how bad I feel for Blake? No, of course it's about how bad I feel for myself.

Blake has been such a fantastic husband--helps with Isaac while I make dinner or he makes dinner with my instruction while I play with Isaac. He always did the dishes. He cleaned the bathroom. But now I have to do it all myself. The thing is, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. But this is real life, Marie! Most wives cook and clean and take care of their kids. I'm sure when I'll read my journal when I have five kids I will remember the good old days when I still could read during Isaac's naps and sew at night. And I like to cook. And I don't mind to clean--it feels so awesome to have a newly vacuumed floor. And I'd rather be dancing with Isaac than stuck behind a computer in an office or worse! up at 2 AM stitching up someone's wounds. So my goal is not to freak out at Blake when I go to book club and I come home to two pots in the sink, because my life is great and I can clean two pots and let my exhausted husband go to bed.

I often feel like Dan in Real Life, when he walks around the bookstore and picks up twenty random titles. That is what my trips to the library are like. As I chase Isaac around, I grab this and that, and hey, I'll try that. Isaac loves to throw on some tunes and shake his booty and I'm getting sick of our music. I think Isaac likes Arthur the best, though (and I must admit, who can beat jekyll jekyll hyde jekyll hyde hyde jekyll).

Isaac has learned how to make the saddest sad noise ever. Listen.