Little McMillan is three months old these days. He likes to roll over both ways, make lots of sounds; and chomp away on his hands, my chin, and anything else he can get into his mouth. Like his brother, he demonstrates a strong preference for the family king-sized bed.

"It's perfect for four!" Shef recently observed. Hmmm.

Last month, I participated in a contest on Sheila's blog designed to motivate readers to work on their abs. Because I love winning more than is probably healthy, I did 135 minutes of abdominal exercises in August. That impressive total, combined with my partner's substantial effort, earned me a win in the contest.

Yay! I love winning!

And apparently a contest with no prize is enough to make the difference between 135 minutes in August and, uh, NO minutes so far in September.

Let's remedy that, shall we? Sheila asked me to host the ab contest this month, and here are the terms: you have to comment to say that you're playing, and then we'll work on the key to great abs: consistency. You have to do abs every-other day for the rest of the month starting on Monday the 15th or Tuesday the 16th (your choice), and you have to do five minutes per session. That's it! We'll have partners to increase the chances that we'll do it.

Post in the comments by Monday if you're playing. I hope you are. It probably won't be that terrible.

There's nothing to report.

Do you want to know how I used five CSA veggies in my dinner last night? Probably not.

Do you want to know that I really like the show How I Met Your Mother, and I've been obsessively watching it on DVD? Uh, not really.

Do you want to hear the details of my non-dairy existence? Not particularly.



That's okay. I totally feel the same way about those topics and also about laundry, my limited wardrobe, and Mac's apparent teething.

After Kerry lost in 2004, I cried in baby music class with eight-month-old Shef and a few of our friends. One of the moms was a republican, but I didn't care if I was making her feel uncomfortable.

"I don't know how I'm going to explain that this is the kind of world he lives in," I said, snuffling. The other democrat moms agreed, and then we went to lunch and watched Kerry concede on the overhead televisions, tears in all of our eyes.

And now here we are four years later, and I have another baby. Yesterday, Mac and I walked with my friend Anne and her six-month-old near Lake Nokomis.

"So, you and Eleanor are going to England?" I asked.

"YES!" Anne said. "On the 24th of this month!"

"So, Eleanor has a passport?"

"She does," Anne confirmed.

"Well, she's ahead of Sarah Palin," I said. "The woman has never traveled abroad, but she's sure qualified to be Vice President."

It turns out I was wrong about that - she got her passport in July of '07 to visit Kuwait and Germany on a single trip. But, still.

If we lose this time, I don't know what I'll do.

The change in Shef since he started school last week is sort of remarkable. It's like he's aged a year in a week. All of a sudden, the toddlerisms are out of his speech patterns, his vocabulary is exploding, and he tries to make hilarious jokes and have grown-up conversations all the time.

"I'm concerned about the weather," I told him on the way to school the other day.

"Concerned?" he asked. "You mean anxious or nervous?"

"Right," I agreed.

And at dinner the other night when there was a break in conversation Shef took care of it. "Dad, do you think Star Wars Legos are cool or really boring?"

"Uh," said Dan, "cool."

"And what about Indiana Jones Legos? Cool or... reallyreally boring?"

"Cool," said Dan. We were all cracking up.

"How about Mars Mission Legos? Do you think they're cool or... reallyreally boring?"

"Cool," we decided.

And then I turned to Dan and said, "Why is he so grown up all of a sudden?"

"Because I'm four years old!" Shef interjected, handily shoving spaghetti into his mouth.

Shef developed a gross wart on one of his toes this summer. I have extensive experience with warts and their removal. So, not surprisingly, I'm obsessed with the eradication of Shef's wart. I'd like to pick at it and peel it and pour acid on it every hour of each day. Sadly, Shef won't let me near his feet unless I promise not to touch the wart or any other part of any toe.

His understandable apprehension gets in the way of the treatment plan suggested by our pediatrician: file it down with an emery board and apply Compound W daily.

I told my mom about this problem and she scoffed at the Compound W plan. "Warts come in times of stress," she said, knowingly. "All you need to do is rub the wart with a green scapular in the sign of the cross and say some prayers."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes!" she said, very sure of herself. "That's how I got rid of my warts in junior high. They were huge!" She gestured at her legs. "And then Aunt Judy's warts were cured by the faith healer, but the green scapular will do it."

Because I had my doubts about the medical plan, I decided to give the painless Catholic treatment a try. "But, I don't have a green scapular," I told her. "I only have brown."

"I'm sure that will be fine," my mom said, nodding.

"And what prayers do we say?" I asked.

"Oh, well," she said, waving her hand nonchalantly, "just try some Hail Marys."

"And how long will it take until the wart is gone?"

"Nine days," she said confidently. "And just make sure he knows it's going to work."

I'll tell you what: he's much more willing to let me touch the wart with the scapular than with the emery board. So, Our Lady of Mount Carmel, I'm counting on you!

I made a goal this year to post on my blog at least ten times per month. This month, I may not make it. It's been kind of hard to think of amusing anecdotes, to tell you the truth. I don't really have a good excuse except that I've had both kids at home full-time since July 25th. I know that plenty of people do that job all the time, but I was new at it.

It occurred to me that since I'm not teaching at the moment, my yearly emotional calendar has shifted. It used to be September-May was super difficult and stressful, but now it's June-August. Next summer, I'll employ some different coping strategies.

Lucky for me, Shef started his Pre-Kindergarten class last week. He did two half-days to orient himself, and starting on Tuesday he'll be going all day. On Friday, I took this video of him. Before I pressed record, we'd agreed that he would discuss his impressions of school. Instead, he leads off with a description of a violent Indiana Jones game we were playing at my mom's house. Oh well.


Untitled from Savvy Mom on Vimeo.

He is pretty funny, I've gotta say. Next I'll try to get him on tape singing High School Musical.