A win!

You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you might find you get what you need. -Rolling Stones

I was trying so hard to catch up this morning. Throwing the next load of laundry in, emptying the dishwasher, toasting breakfast waffles while making coffee. Whatever room Jack dragged me into, I was chipping away at a chore, then being pulled into another room to complete a previous task.

Jack was climbing onto the dishwasher (with good intentions, he helps unload), when I stood up and knocked my head on an open cupboard door. I lost it. I can take pain, but I'll never understand why minor head trauma has me in tears. It could be a chip off pride, feeling ungraceful, shaking up the brain. It has the same effect as running around and stubbing your toe. Putting a halt in your day.

So I gave up the multitasking and sat down to take my health assessment quiz. Feeling bleary and in a post head trauma funk, I tried to focus. And here comes Jack. "OUT!"

He only had to repeat himself four times before I stood up and escorted him out the front door: pajamas, flip flops and camera.

And this is exactly what I needed. Beautiful sunshine. Not a cloud in sight. Happy Jack holding Jack Rabbit tight. Late October's generous breeze. I could breathe again.

I could revel in my happy, blissful, almost barefoot pregnant motherhood and appreciate my finest things in life. I love this boy. I'm not a fan of him posing. I cherish his candid moments. But I got him to smile. Not his real, happy smile. It's a cheesy smile, where he stretches his lower lip and scrunches his nose. But close enough.

And I got what I needed. Thank you, Jack, for being persistent.

We check on the moon every once in a while. If we're standing by a window, we'll sneak a peak.

If any lucky dog walkers were passing by the other side of this window, they would have gotten a full frontal of a toddler, checking on the moon while his shower heated up.

We brainstorm all month about what Jack will be for Halloween. We throw out the mainstream ideas, and some rare ones that require a sewing machine and the ability to use it. Somehow, we always change our minds at the last minute. This year, he was going to be the Terminator. I found a leather jacket, some boots and some black shades, but no luck with black toddler pants that weren't corduroy or sweatpants. So, we improvised. We got biker boy.

Jose tied a little boom box on the back, blaring biker music. Bad to the Bone, Born to be Wild, I Did a Bad Bad Thing definitely brought a nice touch to his bad boy look. While we toted him through downtown Winter Garden with his fists pumping to the beat of the music, we realized he was a hit. So many people stopped to take his picture and point out how cute he looked.

Since his ensemble attracted so much attention, we entered him in the costume contest and he WON! Second place. My little man's first award ever was a ten dollar gift card to Target.

And this proud Mama cut in front of many people to stand in front of the stage, jumping up and down, clapping and screaming, "YAY JACK!"

I love our little town. It's grown, but it has become beautiful. It maintains it's sweet, quaint appeal with little shops and cafes, but can sure throw a good party.

Jack was all smiled out by the end of the night, but I had to get a picture of us just to prove to myself that I was there and not behind the camera the whole time.

Victory was celebrated at our local New York pizzeria. Jack sat on a wooden seat at the bar with his Mama and Daddy on each side. Biker boy ate three slices of pizza, like his Mama (ahem, who by the way, is feeding two). We saved Daddy two. He's a great Daddy.

He's a really great daddy. And eating three slices of pizza and chocolate gelato and Italian doughnuts covered with powdered sugar just goes to show that sometimes, we get what we want. Even if we really don't need it.

Simple pleasures.

I claim these two. Yep, they're mine. And I'm happy to say that we are adding to this bunch. Jack is wearing a wig. And now we see that if my lighter features hadn't smoothed over Jose's dark everything gene. He may have looked like this.

Jack loves his Amma. She lets him rule the roost at her house. And she loves him so. And I love that. Because I love love.

Jack is starting to test us. We can see it in his eyes. His hand resting innocently on his object of desire, something sharp or hot or fragile. And his head is slightly lowered while he eyes one of us, usually Daddy, because he's more likely to react.

And he knows he is too cute, because he might run with it. His cuteness. We try so hard not to smile or laugh or give in. That cuteness is convincing.

Finally! Pumpkin painting day! It even got Daddy smiling big.

Sometimes, clean up can be just as fun. Especially when clean up involves a hose, a hot day and knowing we have a change of clothes with us.

I have been so excited about this table. I shopped it for months and finally gave in and got the one from Pottery Barn. It had a centerpiece, but Jack didn't like it.

The list.

I dropped Jack off at school and came home to dig into a load of schoolwork. I brewed my cup of coffee, threw my hair up into a ponytail, and set my Pandora station to Bach. But I couldn't do it. I just stared at my calendar of assignments and zoned out. I blame this:

So I stood up, stretched, and got to work... straightening my desk. And really, it looks much better.

All I had to do was transfer everything on the desk to the sofa behind it in neat orderly stacks.

But then, I couldn't stop thinking about this:

And this was weighing on me like a ton of bricks.

But as long as I keep this at the top of my list,

... chipping away at all the other stuff doesn't seem so bad. I do have a super wonderful husband to whom I can delegate (I just hope you're reading this, and know that this list is sitting on my desk, but don't start with #1! That baby is mine).

Dreaming.

I'm sitting at this little table doing my schoolwork because Jack insists that we sit together while he does his work on the IPad. There's a coffee to my left and Jack Rabbit is staring at me.

Jack runs my world. I am his puppet and he is my master. He pushes my legs and pulls my hand, drags me through the house to show me what he wants to do next. He puts my hand on the front door knob, demanding, "open!" He communicates with single words, sound effects and full body charades. I love it.

Pumpkin bread spices are wafting through the house, no thanks to a cheap candle. I'm baking.It feels good to make, bake, produce. It feels good when Jose comes down the stairs to find out what smells so good. Jack runs to the oven telling me, "open!" And I remind him, "Not yet, it's going to get bigger!"

I remember when I was very pregnant with Jack. I used to sit on the glider in the corner of his nursery and dream. I imagined changing his diaper, smiling because he's smiling and babbling sweet sounds. I pictured myself walking into his room in the middle of the night to see him standing in his crib, hands gripping the rungs with little fists and two eyes barely peeking over the top. And just dreaming about it would give me this warm and fuzzy feeling, smiling in the dark, anticipating all the happiness in my future.

And it's funny how dreaming works. When you're living the dream, you're already dreaming again. Now, as I clumsily drag my feet out of my warm bed, rubbing my eyes and straining to find my way through the dark to that crying baby, I am annoyed. And I walk in, and there he is, standing with his little fist wrapped around the white rails, two almond eyes peeking over the top, watching the door. I know he's crying for his mama, hoping she'll pick him up and snuggle him in her bed.

This is why I journal. Writing my dream down makes it stick. My journal is my dream book. So I plan, every day, to do something fun. I want to do something worth writing down in my dream book. I want the dreams to be what I remember, so I can forget all the endless errands and mundane chores. All those things on my to-do list that have to get done today, are just going to have to wait for checklist number one: living my dream.

I will post pictures tomorrow, I promise. We have bubbles to blow and pumpkins to be painted!