going out with a BAM.

Tonight we thought it would be a really good idea to ring in the New Year with a pantless toddler dance party. Park enjoyed the idea, too. Dad was rapping. Mom shouldn't have attempted. And baby was rockin' out on the table // laughing and groovin' to the [nonexistent] beat. Life was good in the neighborhood...

...until the little shoulder shaker turned things down a notch and attempted to slow dance.

Friends, please don't be this guy at the party tonight. And if you're not at a party tonight, please don't encourage your sock-wearin' tot to dance on a plastic table. It most likely won't turn out well.

It's okay to laugh at our mistake. We obviously did, and our kiddo is just fine. We'll simply have to revise our lo-cal for next year's grand performance. Cheers to a safe & happy New Year!

Return of the Mack.

Guess who's back?

Back again.

Mack is back.

Tell a friend.

Guess who's back. Guess who's back. Guess who's back... 

Welp, no one in Seattle currently needs to guess who's back, because Facebook newsfeeds across the Great Pacific Northwest are littered in photos, video and status updates declaring that Macklemore and Ryan Lewis are indeed, back. Performing in town. Not once, not twice, but three times this week.

So mine and Jordan's favorite entertainer is in town. The rapper who might, sometimes, occasionally, make us tear up while rockin' out to his inclusive lyrics in the car with our kiddo. Preach it, buddy. We're listening and so is the little guy in the car seat. Like many others, we are not only captivated by Macklemore's musical talent and creativity as an independent artist, we also admire the local guy turned mega sensation who passionately uses his influence to stand up for the oppressed and to be a loud, booming voice for the voiceless. Yeah, you could say we're fans. And according to Facebook, so is everyone in our social media network. And all those fans seem to be jammin' and Instagrammin' to his live performance at the Key Arena tonight. 

But the two of us? For being located within miles of the concert venue, we're about as far away from the booming speakers, flashing lights, and electric energy radiating from the Key Arena as two fans can possibly be. Tonight Jordan is working a 6pm-10am shift in scrubs at the hospital, while I am working a 6pm-10am shift in a messy bun and rocking chair.

Have I considered driving downtown tomorrow morning with my tot in tow, to stand on a freezing corner with the hope of scalping overpriced tix to take Park to the last show of the week? You bet. Too young? Too loud? Naw. Our kid was born for late nights, bumpin' speakers, dance parties and over stimulation. He'd be a mighty fine date, but he's not the guy I'd really like to go to the concert with...that guy is staying up all evening and into the morning, working his tail off, only to do it again the next day and the day after that.

So instead, tomorrow night while Jordan works another long night at the hospital, we'll most likely celebrate Macklemore and Ryan Lewis' final show on their hometown tour by throwing in The Heist, turning up the volume, and driving a few miles around quiet suburbia; all the while hoping the duo and their talented crew visit home again real soon. But not before confirming their concert lineup with Jordan's night shift schedule ;) Okay. Is it time to log off Facebook, pour a glass of wine and conclude my night-shifts-are-long-and-lonely pity party? Yeah, yeah it probably is...

Welcome home, Macklemore. All those screaming fans at the Key, plus a sleepless stay-at-home mom and her scrubby hubby are really stoked you're back. 

Portlandia.

Thanks to my father-in-law, Mr. Hilton Honors himself, Jordan, Parks and I recently scored a great deal and spent a long, restful weekend sleeping in, watching The Muppet Movie, and ordering take-out in the world's largest hotel suite. We are most definitely the poorest people who have ever stayed in Room 629, but boy was it a treat. 

On Sunday, we drove across the bridge, into the city of bridges, to enjoy a brisk morning adventuring around Washington Park. After meandering our way up a windy hill and gawking at the tree lined streets and perfectly manicured Queen Anne-esque homes plotted along the hill, we made our way into the zoo. I'm not the biggest fan of animals, especially when caged in dismal looking display cases, but the look on Park's face when he saw the black bears, fish, and sea otter made a morning with staged mother nature and all of her unhappily captive species well worth it. 

// A few snapshots from our time in Vancouver+Portland //

Nothing says hotel living at it's finest quite like grainy camera phone selfies!

He could not get enough of this view. And I could not get enough of his mullet.

Dad, on the other hand, couldn't grab his beard trimmer quick enough. 

Don't ask for an after picture. We'll just say it's a damn good thing dad's not aspiring to be a barber. 

 I bet this guy never let his dad shave his toddler mullet.

Park and the polar. 

Park and the parents.

One more grainy selfie for the memory books. 

Mini Mozart.

--> Expose Parker to musical instruments <--

Oh yes, it was somewhere on my nonexistent list of toddler to-do's, yet somehow between the red numbers glaring at me every time I log into my online banking and the fact that my kiddo is at the perfect age to avoid any and every large or small errand I may need to run, I neglected item number #62 on my Good Mothers of Toddlers Would Definitely Do This To Promote Optimal Growth and Healthy Development list. 

Thankfully, Park's got some super rad aunts and uncles and when his birthday rolled around this summer, Aunt Amy surprised him with an authentic & colorful  floor tom drum. I know Parker will absolutely love this gift one day, but both Amy and I felt it may sit better in his closet until he's a wee bit older and over his lets-chew-it-until-we-destroy-it stage. 

About a month after hiding his drum, my younger brother, who worked at a children's consignment store at the time, informed us that he had a belated birthday gift for Parker sitting in his garage. He casually mentioned that the gift needed a liiiittle work and that he'd get around to it soon enough...

In the meantime, while his floor tom drum was buried deep into his closet, and his uncle's mysterious gift sat unattended in some garage in Seattle, Parker took matters into his own hands, while taking a keen interest in my parents piano. The sound of off-tuned bangin' keys was absolute music to my parents ears, as they had spent countless dollars and many a' years trying to instill an appreciation for music into all of their tone deaf children's ears. Needless to say, the piano keys had been collecting dust for a solid decade or two, prior to Parkerman enthusiastically cleaning them with both his fingers and toes, while providing his grandparents with hope for the next generation of possible musicians. 

Now remember that mysterious gift from Funcle Dan? We'll he never got around to fixing it up, however he did bring the incomplete project to my parent's house and whaddya know? T'was a baby piano for our baby piano man!

Here's Dan's generous contribution to cultivating a musically talented nephew...

Annnnd, here's our finished product...

TaDa! Here's to checking #62 off that nonexistent list.