Both of my children are firmly planted in developmental stages where they trying to assert their independence.  And it makes for the perfect storm drama around our house lately. Bink’s “terrible two’s” don’t feel so bad most days.  There are definitely times, like this morning, when he’s clearly woken up on the wrong side of the race car bed.  There are also definitely times when no matter what I do, I can’t make him happy (I want a squeeeeeeeze-y fruit!  Plea!  PUH-LEA!…except we don’t have any in the house).

I started an intermediate/advanced level digital photography class at our local community college last night. As hard as it is to carve an extra three hours a week to devote to this class, I’m really glad I did (especially since come March there will be even less personal time to go around).  The first half hour of class we had to just wander around the building and campus taking pictures with the goal of getting all the technical aspects of the photos correct–exposure, composition, clarity, etc.  That task might have been a little easier if it wasn’t pitch black outside and the building wasn’t a fairly new, sterile looking college…

So, hey, I’m like 17 weeks along already. Funny how time just keeps moving along. Hubby asked me the other day how big the baby was…and, uh, I had no idea.  I had to look online to find out (answer in actual units of measurement:  about 5 inches, answer in fruit/vegetable units of measurement: onion).  Which got me thinking about my pregnancy with Bink… at any point of time I could have told you exactly what fruit or vegetable he was closest in size to and precisely which baby milestones he was hitting each week.  This time through…not so much. And I blame Bink for that.  I just don’t have the…