Three is no crowd.: Peace, love and lavender wash.

I know why they make lavender baby wash. It has nothing to do with a baby sleeping better. My baby would sleep no different if he was covered in lemon juice. They make it for moms. All the stress of my day is washed away when I rock my baby to sleep with my face buried in that little head of hair. Lavender baby wash was made to relax me. And it does, along with sweet breath and feeling that chest rise and fall slower and slower into it's nighttime rhythm. And that's the best end to my day.

And now I lie in bed, recapping the highlights of my day with the lingering scent of lavender.

We had our ultrasound. The baby looks healthy. He is a he. And we have no idea what we'll call him. We've gone through lists of baby names in books and websites, looking at Danish and Estonian origins, baby names inspired by nature and big cities, all names that start with J or rhyme with Jack. Nada. Zip. And we need to start thinking fast because my mom has been calling him Peter.

We got to visits the twins today. Filled up my newborn baby love tank after my daily grind at work. Of course I changed my clothes and scrubbed up to my elbows first. I really want to get Jack and his cousins in the same picture, but I'm too nervous to put that much distance between my zoom lens and my curious cub with two fragile newborns. We have all been working with him, teaching him gentle. He tries so hard to touch the gently, that his little fingers quiver. He kisses the tops of their heads so sweetly and it would be the perfect picture once I get the guts to run a snap it.

It's almost always summertime here. No escape from lovebugs, mosquitos, and heat. Jack ends up in water almost every day. And while I'm in my funky beer gut stage, lasting about six months, I'm staying out of my bikini and sticking with the hose and the kiddie pool. And Jack is satisfied.

Eventually, a diaper can only drag one down so far. And my kid has more than just one set of nice cheeks to show off.

My new craving: ginger ale. I don't drink soda, but this is divine. Just some garnish would make it the perfect mock-tail. I gotta six pack in the fridge from a very sweet husband trying to keep the hormones happy. My subtle hint was given in a text at two a.m. while he was working. He bit the bait and come 7 a.m. I had my own stash.

This guy writes kids music. Fun, funky, goofy music that has us making faces and bouncing in our car seats. His name is David and his front row fan got a free CD, so we've been listening to his tunes. If you have a tot, I recommend.

Jack isn't very loyal to his favorite artists. If you sing, he'll join you. If you share your guitar, he'll strum along. And if your dancing, well, he'll shake his booty.

And then he'll make sure everyone is clapping at the end.

Tis the season for candy apples and I dragged my family out for Downtown Disney's ten dollar fruit on a stick. Not a craving. I really wanted autumn candy apple pictures. But it was a bust. It was dark and Jack wasn't really into candy apples.