The Connolly Family

The Adventures of Matt, Shannon, Liam & Paige

Month: December 2008 (page 1 of 2)

The Magic Os

I think everyone knows that Cheerios are, in fact, magic. Liam has just discovered their oatey goodness and enjoys them thoroughly, like most kids. Here he his enjoying (or maybe stoically tolerating if his facial expression is any indication) his Os:


So most kids enjoy them (even if stoically)–but do most kids pick them up like this?





Maybe it’s Liam who is magic, and not the Os themselves…just something to ponder.

Vitals and Realizations

Liam had his one-year checkup on Monday.  He’s perfect, of course.  Matt wanted me to post the vitals, so here they are:

Height:  30.25″ long = 50th-75th% (he’s shrinking…)

Weight:  22 lbs., 2.5 oz. = 50th% (right where he’s always been…which got me thinking…I mean — Liam is heavy to carry around all day so what are the women who have kids in the upper 50th% doing?  Are they that much stronger than I am or do all those kids walk earlier than Liam will or is it just that they don’t pick them up as much?)

Head:  18.5″ in circumference = 50th-75th% (holding steady there too)

That stuff’s interesting and all — but I spent yesterday afternoon thinking about one part of the visit:

At some point our doctor asked if Liam is “pretty much eating what you guys are eating at the table.”  My immediate thought was: Oh Goodness, NO!  I’d never feed him what we’ve been eating the last couple of weeks. 

That’s not a good sign.

This got me thinking about the food that Matt and I eat–specifically the numbers of canned things with too much sodium, veggies and fruits with too many pesticides (or pesticides at all, really…), frozen convenience meals that have enough preservatives to keep us until we’re 100 (maybe without any organs by that time as they’ll be eaten away by the same preservatives, but still…if I weren’t planning to be cremated I don’t think formaldehyde would be necessary…), meats and dairy products with harmful hormones, etc., etc., etc.

I’m certainly not saying that I’m never eating Chick-fil-A again (let’s not get rash) but I started doing some research on Organic CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) programs in the area to see how that would work for our budget while providing us with weekly local (and therefore seasonal) fruits, veggies, and nuts.  The one I’d heard about in the past that is fairly close to us says on their website that they’re full at this point and you just have to wait until openings become available.  It was pretty unclear as to how that would work — but I signed up for the newsletter anyway — I figured it wouldn’t hurt and there is a weekly open-air market attached to it in the Spring, Summer, and Fall so that would be a neat thing to take Liam along to see as well as a convenient way to get fresh veggies from local growers.  The cool thing was that I found this.  It’s not nearly as close to our house as the other one but it is very close to Matt’s work so theoretically he could pick up our baskets on most weeks and if he has a meeting or can’t make it I could do it on those weeks.  I’ll also check out how easy it would be to go to the Dekalb Farmer’s Market once per week since I already know it’s fabulous.  Matt and I are also planning to go peruse this Farmer’s Market which is closer to our house.  I already have a bias in favor of DFM but I’m trying to go in with an open mind and see what we can find.

It’s going to be a balancing act to find out which things are most important to buy organic and to see how much fresh produce we can buy through local agriculture outlets while keeping in mind our budget and the fact that it’s not exactly ecologically responsible to drive all over the known universe to find said things.  That sorta defeats the purpose a little bit, doesn’t it?  At least I drive a Civic and I’ve filled it up twice since June so I’m not exactly creating global warming on my own, now am I…?

Well–I’m off to feed Liam his homemade organic applesauce and oatmeal…

Happy New Year’s Eve!


Every day we engage in epic battles with Liam both morning and night in an effort to brush his four teeth.  The only thing that works even remotely well is singing the “Brush Your Teeth” song (by Raffi, of course).  There is still snarling, screeching, and yes, gnashing of teeth.  Up until a week or so ago this was the only brush that Liam knew.  This was the first time we brushed his hair with his hairbrush when he was developmentally able to recognize and retain the language enough to have labeled it in his mind.  The only problem with this was that when I told him it was a brush he proceeded to stick it in his mouth because, as I’d told him thousands of times before, this is where a brush belongs.  I began to teach him that this is a brush we use in his hair.  He seemed to understand and was soon “brushing” his own hair.  As I realized the complication I’d just created Matt and I looked at each other and both exclaimed that we’d be lucky if he doesn’t try to brush his hair with his toothbrush.  Tonight he did.  I think the only reasonable solution is just to never brush his hair again.

Dear Matt,

Are you totally convinced that the replacement of the sliding glass doors should move up in the cue? If you’re not, take a look at what I found this morning when I opened the curtains after I noticed a puddle on the hardwood floors:



Yes–you’re seeing that correctly. There is currently a sheet of ice on the inside of our sliding glass doors that reaches all the way into the track and is melting out into our kitchen floor as I type. I just thought you’d like to be kept abreast of the latest happenings on the homefront.



This Stinks!

Quite literally, what I’m about to describe actually stinks. Are you ready?

Once again I made the mistake of using the bathroom and when I came out I heard a familiar clicking sound. Except that this is a clicking sound that I should never hear unless I’m in his room. I walked in his room to find this:




That’s right — Liam has figured out how to open the lid of his diaper pail. And stick his hand inside. With the dirty diapers. That have poop in them. On the first night in a long while that his father isn’t coming home until after he’s gone to bed leaving us only the short period of time in the morning between waking and when Matt goes to work to figure out how to thwart him without shooting ourselves in the foot. The diaper pail is currently in the guest room. What exactly am I supposed to do about this one?

All Liam Wants For Christmas…

…is his maxillary lateral incisors.

This would be a difficult version of the song for Liam to sing (especially given that he doesn’t actually talk yet), but I’m pretty sure that while he spends his days screeching and crying in a fashion that’s almost completely foreign to him, he’s actually just trying to sing the song.

Meanwhile all I want for Christmas is a legal, safe, baby sedative.

PSA For Organizations Seeking My Donation

Dear Organizations Who Have Declared Yourselves Charitable And Are Therefore Legally Able to Bypass The Do Not Call Registry,

I get that charitable organizations are struggling like everyone else right now.  I am definitely in your target demographic.  I have a Master’s Degree in Social Work and when I was getting paid to work, I tried very hard to do so in not-for-profit organizations.  My husband and I do a fair amount of research before we pick several groups to give to each year.  But here’s a little secret (listen carefully):

I’m not an idiot and I hate phone solicitation. 

One more time in case that wasn’t clear enough:

I’m not an idiot and I HATE phone solicitation. 

That’s why I’m on every Do Not Call Registry I could find.  If I am not already a member of your organization, don’t call me.

Here’s another little secret:

If you do call me and are pushy and rude (especially when I’m doing my best to be polite, as I recognize that you’re a person too and you deserve respect as such), I will become agitated and I will hang up on you.  If I tell you several times that I’m not giving to your organization and you try to guilt me into something (especially when I’ve said several times that I need to go and put my child to bed and you can hear him screaming into the phone) and then push and push until I feel like you’re trying to sell me a used car, I will post about you in a negative light on my blog.  I’m talking to you Fraternal Order of Police and NSpire Atlanta.  Seriously.

Sincerely irritated,



A boy and his aspirator:




A boy and his socks:


A boy and his Dino PJs:


A boy and his bonking victim:


A boy and his first Christmas tree:

(Rounding the corner)


(Hey Gran, there’s a tree in our family room)


(I’m not sure how I feel about this, Gran…)


(Okay, I think I like it)


A boy and his stocking:


A boy and his Mo:




A boy and his Pok:


A boy and his Mo’s cane:


A boy and his oven full of cookies:


A boy and his pony:


Dinner Highlights

Part One:

Liam, who is extremely cranky is sitting at the dinner table with me and Matt as we eat our dinner.  Liam begins to throw things at me (such as the Evil Weeble, his paci, and eventually his socks).  After he throws them at me he waves goodbye to them.  Certainly, I want to encourage this type of behavior so I begin throwing whatever he throws at me back at him and waving goodbye myself.  This goes on and on until the object in question hits the floor, at which point we both wave goodbye to said object, Liam finds another object, and the game begins again.  The game ended with a baby sock in my meatloaf sauce.  Mmmm.

Part Two:

After the goodbye game is over Liam begins to search around him on the table for something with which to occupy his attention.  He finds small, rock-hard pieces of monterrey jack cheese leftover from his dinner.  He begins putting these in his mouth, one by one, making contorted faces that would rival those of any overpaid Hollywood actor.  Finally–deciding that he’s not getting enough attention from me or from Matt for his stellar facial performance–he promptly gags and proceeds to throw up.  He follows this with the classic ‘swirlie’ in the vomit as Matt races to find something to clean his tray.

Good times.

A Boy After My Own Heart

I’m baking cookies and my son is currently standing in front of the oven, face pressed up against the glass, licking the oven door.

Now that’s my boy.

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