My New Job.

So, up until June 10th, I was working. And now, I'm not. Truth be told, I still feel kind of discombobulated and funny about it. Not having to be anywhere by 8am (and, if you're a former co-worker reading this, then, granted, 805am) still feels like being truant. Most days, I honestly like I'm getting away with something to not have to be answering any calls or checking my email all the time.

But the upgrade is outstanding. Colin and Pierce are the two coolest bosses. Their work day starts late - around 10am. And we get a siesta everyday. It's like working in Spain, except I speak the language better.

Perhaps because I gave so much notice to my boss (over a month) or perhaps because my last day overlapped with the last day of schools around here, but as I wound up my job, I kind of felt like I was gearing up for summer vacation. The whole concept of a "summer break" with my kids was so delightful, I could hardly stand it. And while my kids actually are delightful, the summer weather isn't.

I'm not sure who's right in this whole climate debate. Misters Gore and DiCaprio make a compelling case in An Inconvenient Truth, but probably, so could anyone who had a million-dollar budget. When I lived in Las Vegas, the concept of global warming made more sense and seemed more applicable, since you know, it's like a thousand degrees there. All the time. It's fun to blame something for how hellacious Las Vegas is. Like, somehow, it would be an awesome place to be if it weren't for that darn global warming. Las Vegas residents everywhere probably all think, "Man, if only there weren't global warming... then, it would be 80-degrees here." Like Las Vegas is really San Diego but with more global warming.

Here, though, not so much. Yesterday, during my summer vacation, the boys and I bundled up against a 57-degree day. Colin stepped outside in jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt, took one look at me, and said, "Mama, it's cold. Can I put on more sleeves?" And since we had no where specific to be (only Petco, to see the parakeets) and since we didn't have to be there by 8am, I said yes. So back inside we went. Because this new job rules.

Getting His Gloves On.

It's the darnedest thing.

You put them to bed, looking like an angel...

and they wake up...

looking like Mike Tyson.

Who knew?

His Gratitude Knows No (Geopolitical) Bounds.

Every night, before bed, Colin says a prayer. I provide the template ("Heavenly Father, we're grateful for...") and he does the rest. Sometimes, it's sweet. Sometimes, it's jibberish. But it's always funny.

On Saturday night, Colin's prayer went like this:

Heavenly Father, we're grateful for...

• Mama (the woman who nurtures and cuddles him)


• Mom (the woman who lets him jump on the couch like a trampoline)


• a bone that glows in the dark (referring to his glow-in-the-dark skeleton pajamas)


• bones that glow in the dark (again, the pajamas, but how's that for subject-verb agreement?)


• that Mama has 31 years


• Greenland


• Baby Pierce


• Teeth

So, there you have it. In the Wiltbank house, there's a lot to be thankful for. And at least two of us are grateful for teeth (Colin as he uses them; Brad as he preps and fills them). And at least one of us (me) is grateful that Pierce doesn't have any... yet.

Pierce: Quality over Quantity.

I am a youngest child. And, when I had my first child, my mom sent me every baby photo of me. To oldest children, this probably sounds like an onerous task. But not for my mom. Because, remember, I'm the youngest. I think there were about 25 photos, which represented my first five years.*

* Which was totally fine by me because, in reality, these were not my finest five years.

So, I was afraid I would do to Pierce what happens to all subsequent children - that fewer photos would be taken of him than were taken of Colin. And that's probably true. Probably, we do have fewer photos of Pierce than of Colin.

But, woo boy, what Pierce lacks in quantity, he makes up for in quality. Look at this kid!

Oops! We did it again.

Meet Pierce. He arrived safely in May and has been lighting up our lives ever since. He's sweet and funny and, in an effort to stay competitive, just as chubby as his brother. His hobbies include eating, sitting up, rolling over, blowing spit bubbles, and coo-ing. His dislikes include being alone and the crib.

Colin likes to speak on Pierce's behalf, but the ventriloquist act is pretty limited. It usually goes something like this:

Me: "Colin, what does Pierce say?"

Colin: "I want some milk, Mom."

How is Colin handling being a big brother? Here's the scene from last night. I asked Colin if he wanted another little brother or little sister. Colin firmly, emphatically, and loudly rejected my offer. I asked him why he was was so against another sibling, and he said, "Coco doesn't want another brother. Coco wants Pierce!" So, there it is: all three of us really like having Pierce around. Welcome to the team, Pierce!

VH-1: The Early Years.

Here's Colin - playing with this favorite toy:

And here's Colin - getting ready for his very own "Behind the Music":

Get your DVRs ready!

Monkey Suit.

I like that Colin is a baby. I like that he only has two teeth, I like that he kicks his legs when he's excited, and I like that he can get away with wearing pajamas all day. But every once in a while, it's good to break the monotony of hanging-out in pajamas and get a little dressed up. Wearing uncomfortable-but-cool clothes teaches Colin an important lesson: fashion over function.

Take hats. Hats are often made from yarn, and yarn isn't always soft. In fact, it's often itchy. So, this winter, Colin had to endure a bit of an itchy head in an effort to stay warm. That is, till he grew into this gem:

It's soft, it's warm, and it looks like a sock monkey. Hats don't get cooler than this.

We owe a lot of Colin's warmth on walks to Lorraine, who stayed up all night, knitting him this hat. It's entirely her own creation. Based on the compliments this hat generates, if Lorraine ever gets tired of lawyer jokes, she could start mass-producing these bad boys. When Vera Wang asks for a Lorraine Hoffman monkey hat for her little Josephine, Lorraine will know she's arrived. By then, Colin's monkey hat will be vintage, and he can sell it to pay for college.