Another fun filled month in the Waterkotte household.  Jackson is back to full strength, and he's already doing long division.  Try the veal.  

We're all healthy, and happy; Greta seems to be enamored with Jack as she is still trying to become one with him at all times (she lays ON him every chance she gets).  Mama is doing well.  She's fully healed from the surgery, and getting back her girlish figure.  We're actually going to the gym together if you can believe it.  You should see us at the gym.  We're like Laurel and Hardy in a machine factory.  Falling all over each other, breaking things.  Lots of stretching, walking around admiring the shiny equipment.  I like when you first start going to the gym and you feel like you're ready to conquer the world.  You put a whole bunch of weight on the barbell, and you lift it a whole bunch of times.  The whole time thinking, 'This is nothing.  Maybe this place should buy some more weights.'  And the next morning you wake up and it feels like someone hit you with a bus full of fat ladies.  You can't even lift your arms to call the ambulance.  I love that.  Just laying there thinking, 'If I could only stand up to get to the morphine, I'd be OK.'   Oh how old we're getting.

Maggie's back to work now, so I am playing Mr. Mom twice a week.  I had no idea that caring for two kids would be so much more aggravating than caring for one.  Don't get me wrong, I love it, but man!  People try to tell you how much harder it is with two, but I'm as narcissistic as the next guy.  Nothing ever really happens unless it happens to me.  So to experience it for the first time was a trip.  Maggs goes to work about 3pm, and works at the hospital, in the labor and delivery wing, until about 11.  Greta goes to bed around 8pm, so after that it's not so bad, but that five hours is like an eternity.  There really isn't any "Bri time" in the five hours.  

It's just us (Jack, Greta and me) coming home from Mimi's house, about 5 O'clock.  Greta is VERY unhappy about leaving Mimi's house, and isn't hiding her anger very well.  Jack was sleeping, but is now awake and joins the song of anger.  We get home, and just getting the kids out of the car is a chore.  Jack is about 100 lbs with that car seat, and Greta has her shoes and socks off, and there is 14 inches of snow on the ground.  3 bags, 2 kids, and no keys.  Left them in the car.  How do you open a car door while holding all that.  You can't lay the kids down b/c of the snow...I'm getting aggravated just remembering it.  Finally inside, kids still crying, I know I have to feed Jack, but Greta can be pacified faster.  I put Jack in the living room, and tend to Greta who now desperately needs to be dressed up like a princess.  So I get her Cinderella dress on her, and she's contented, for the moment.  Jack is still wailing away, so I go to the kitchen to warm some milk.  The phone rings and it's a telemarketer mad that I don't have time to discuss 1% financing with her.  Jack is still crying and now Greta has to pee.  I run her to the bathroom as she's "pee peeing on myself".  I get her giant shiny dress up, and her underwear are soaked, and she's very disappointed in herself that she couldn't hold it.  I tell her everything is OK, and that it happens to the best of us.  We get her some new underwear, and wash her up, and I run back to the kitchen because Jack is still screaming.  I grab the milk, that is now 4000 degrees, and I run into the living room..  As we're sitting on the couch Greta is shouting about needing her princess shoes on.  Jack is now screaming as the milk is hotter than a hotdog ( I asked Greta the hottest thing she could think of), and I have to go cool it, Greta on my heals with the shoes.  I cool the milk, and sit back down with Jack.  It's been 2 minutes and I have yet to put Greta's shoes on her, so in her disgust she drops the shoes in my lap, which contains Jack finally trying to get some food.  The heels of the shoes whack Jack in the head, and he explodes into hysterical crying.  I say to Greta, "Greta, will you PLEASE give me a minute?!?  Well, this rips through her like I just killed her puppy, and she runs off to the bedroom.  Tada!  13 minutes in, and I'm ready for a beer.   I don't know how Maggie does it every day, all day.  I think I'd be in jail by now.  Child welfare would be wondering what my kids are doing on the roof.  Thank you Maggie.  For everything.  I don't know how you do it, but it doesn't go unappreciated.  I promise!

OK, enough yappin', get to the pictures.  Here ya go.  Another month of growth and love...thanks for being interested in our humble little lives.