Saturday, December 1, 2007
Yeah, yeah, so I've been a bad blogger. Many of you noticed that I made the blog private for a couple days, and I won't lie, I was very surprised and flattered by the outpouring of concern. I'm fine, but I was in a slump, and I guess it made me feel better to think that the blog was locked up and people weren't checking it for new posts. I guess I thought no one would notice? Ha! You all definitely noticed. So thank you. :)
I go back at the end of this month for the third session, a pink and purple koi on the inside of my arm. It'll be rounded out with some swirly sparkly water around the koi, bee, clovers and roots of the tree, and thunder clouds up behind and around the branches. Squee! (Yes, I just squeed. This is squee-worthy.)
Today I've been feeling like utter poo on a stick, and I think I might be coming down with mastitis. Who the hell gets mastitis after almost 9 months of breastfeeding? Apparently I do. At first I thought it was just my adrenaline crashing after the tattoo but today I've had body aches, a headache and dizziness all day, and my right boob is firm and tender. I get nauseous when I touch it. Joy.
DH was the best husband ever and let me take a nap, which ended up being four hours long. Yes, he is a saint. I've got a heating pad on the boobie right now so please please keep me in your thoughts that I can kick this quickly so DH won't have to take any time off work.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Okay, let's see if I can peel myself off the ceiling long enough to tell this morning's tale of horror.
I was in the bathroom going pee, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted a dark blob. I have some wicked good spi-dar and I KNEW what it was before I even turned my head. It was a huge nasty spider and it was gross. And huge. And really, really gross.
Okay, I HATE spiders. Seriously, I'm still shaking because they freak me out that much. Have you ever seen those episodes of Maury Povich that he does about phobias? And the woman that runs screaming off the stage because they bring out a bowl of chalk or some aluminum foil? That's me. Deathly, unhealthily, irrationally afraid of spiders.
Well, Sawyer came in and swung the door open and it started crawling, and I was still on the pot so I told him to step on it. AND HE BENT DOWN AND PICKED IT UP. Oh my God, I jumped off the pot and ran out of the bathroom screaming NO NO PUT IT DOWN!!! He was holding the damn thing by a leg and it was wiggling and being gross with it's nasty long legs and.. eww. Then it was CRAWLING ON HIS ARM.
I was like "Sawyer put it down!!! Step on it! Smash it!" So he gets down on the floor with it and is laying on his belly and starts poking it, with his face two inches from it. Oh I about DIED. I was seriously jumping all over the place. I wish there had been a camera rolling because we'd have won a bunch of money on America's Funniest Home Videos.
Then, he tried to step on it but didn't do it hard enough and it was still moving, so he picked it up AGAIN and came at me with it. Oh, I just about lost it then. I have childhood memories of my brother chasing me with locust shells and I am traumatized for life, I tell you. I ran shrieking through the house to grab a shoe and when he dropped it again I smashed it.
OMG. My hair is standing on end. I probably shouldn't teach him that bugs are scary but I can't help it, my phobia is too bad. If it had been a tiny one I might have been okay but this one was big and gross and just.. NO!
And he didn't seem phased by me screaming at all. Just kept playing with it and looking at me like I was crazy. And now he's telling me it's "asleep." And I feel bad for killing the ugly thing. Wait, no I don't.
I have to stop thinking about it. Must calm down and breathe. Go on and laugh. But remember me and my tale of peril when your 2-year-old is chasing you with the most disgusting worst nightmare ever and maybe then you won't be laughing so hard NOW WILL YOU.
And I will spend the rest of my day jumping ten inches off the floor every time I feel a tickle on my feet.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
So, I just realized that I commited one of the biggest crimes in blogging: I talked about a resource I used and didn't link it. For shame! I went back and looked and it wasn't YouTube but actually Videojug. YouTube has an endless supply of smoky techniques too, though. This is the one I used, very basic. Behold, the smoky eye tutorial:
VideoJug: How To Create A Smoky Eye Effect
It worked pretty well for me and looked good for my first try. Yes, I'm in my twenties and just now learning how to properly do eye makeup. Hush. Mothers of the world who did not teach their daughters the fine art of eyeshadow should be thanking Al Gore and his internet for giving us novices a second chance.
Interested in bright green smoking eyes? Check. Or perhaps you want hot cocktail eyes, fruity eyes or mermaid eyes. YouTube's got ya covered. So go, watch, learn, be colorful. I've already warned the husband that a makeup addiction could be a dangerous, dangerous thing (for his bank account).
Hello, separation anxiety. How pleasant to see you again. Didn't we already get plenty acquainted the last time you were here though? Please try not to overstay your welcome, thanks.
Trying to fix my hair was interesting this morning, with Mr. Separation Anxiety here as a guest. Beckett crawled after me screaming his loud little head off until I strapped him to my back in the mei tai, which, in case you were wondering, is not the most ideal thing to have on your back when you're wielding a hair dryer. So that didn't last long.
And see, I'm hair impaired. I'm one of those people who can never get their hair to look as good as the stylist does. I hold out on washing for as long as I can, so as to preserve the state of hair euphoria I get from the salon. And now that I have this rockin' purple hair, I'm not supposed to wash it as much. I washed it for the first time on Tuesday, and was less than impressed with how it looked after I styled it, and then bitched to a friend about it. To which she responded, in the most well-meaning way, that maybe I needed something to make it more shiny (and of course I got pissy, because I'm a woman and that is what We Do, and was then obsessed with finding a way to fix it).
I got lots of helpful advice, like more product actually makes it more dull and only washing in cold water. Which would be a hell of a lot easier if we had a detachable shower head. But, we don't, so instead I washed it in the shower and then applied the conditioner and got out to rinse it in the tub with a big cup. Because me and cold showers? We do not mix.
I dumped cup after cup of cold water on my head, being sure to come at it from every angle to get a good rinse. Or so I thought. Then I went downstairs to start the drying process, which now takes about three times as long since I have also learned that heat is bad and evil and makes your hair dull. And I have hair thicker than a friggin' wooly mammoth's. After 20 minutes of drying I was starting to realize that the "wetness" wasn't really going away, even though it was mostly dry. Yeah, not only do I suck at styling, but I apparently also suck at what should be the easiest part: rinsing. I didn't get all the damn conditioner rinsed out and my hair was a greasy mess. Lovely.
We were supposed to meet a friend for lunch at 11am and it was 10:17, and I still had to get the boys ready. So I threw on a headband and attempted to salvage it enough to go out in public. And that was a big negative. It was slicked down and stuck to my head and just gross. So in a matter of about 15 minutes, I said screw the cold water and the cold hair dryer, jumped in the shower to wash it yet again (twice in one day, for shame!), I used my regular shampoo without color protection (bad bad bad!) then flipped my head over and dried it like mad on the hot setting. And you know what? It looks surprisingly decent now. Still not the same, though. And no, not shiny.
And I'm still pissed that I can't use a brush and a hair dryer at the same time, or get the cold rinse down, or use the spray wax and mousse without looking like a grease ball, or work magic with a flat iron and it's just ANNOYING. Seriously, I've been doing my own hair since I was what, 12? And I still don't have the first clue what I'm doing? NOT COOL. My mom never showed me how to apply makeup either, which led to me sitting on YouTube learning how to do smoky eyes for the first time EVER on Monday night. One of the many reasons I'm glad I don't have girls.
Jaclyn has been more than patient with me though, answering all my stupid questions and giving me ideas. So I have to be a good pupil and keep trying, so I can have hot hair when I visit her and Lucas. (Wink wink, Jaclyn!)
So tell me, oh great Internets. What is your hair routine? Got any great secrets? Fool-proof tricks? Please do
shair share with the Hair Impaired.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
It's the middle of November and is finally starting to look and feel like Fall around here. The grass is still green, but is littered with leaves that Beckett loves to munch. And it's brisk enough for a soft, cushy liner in the BabyHawk!
Did you know that oven doors have built-in locks? Ours does. And I know this. Now, that is. It would have been nice to know before I smelled burning plastic while pre-heating for some cookies. Sawyer wanted to give his plastic stethoscope a tan, apparently. It got more of an incineration though, and I found it dripping hot down through the racks and into the bottom of the oven. TASTY. And not harmful in the least when those fumes leach into your food! I guess I should have listened to my mom when she would preach about "Always LOOK inside before you turn on the oven!" Yes, Mother.
I must be doing something right though, because my two-year-old says please and thank you. "Mommy, I want a banana, please!" Which I'm happy to oblige, and feel all giddy because as soon as I hand it to him, he says, "Thanks, Mom!" (Oh and yes, he calls me just 'Mom' sometimes. Isn't he too young for that?) AND, he throws the peel away on his own. He's quite fascinated with the trash can, actually, which is nice for me because now I can easily convince him to throw anything away for me. Of course, now is when many toys will begin to go missing, as I've already rescued Diego's maned wolf from the bottom of the bag twice.
Despite being incredibly curious and just way too smart for his own good, he really is a pretty easy kid. Which bring's me to Fizzledink's question of how we transitioned him out of the crib. And I feel kind of stupid saying this - but I honestly don't know. Sawyer has always been such a good sleeper that it wasn't much of a bump in the road at all for us. He started sleeping through the night, with no help at all from us, at around three months old. Since then, we've had a couple bouts of night waking but nothing that lasts more than a week.
So when the time came to think about breaking out the Big Boy Bed, I really wasn't worried. I was probably a tad over-confident, but at that point in parenting I'd never really had any incident with him that had knocked me on my ass too hard (no worries though, Beckett fixed that for me!)
His crib is the type that turns into toddler bed so one day when I was eight or so months pregnant, we decided to just go for it. No careful planning or a course of action, just cold turkey. (Which really makes me think I'm probably not the best person to be giving advice on this subject, but well, I'm already halfway through the story.) We wanted him out of the crib before the baby got here so we wouldn't have to worry about that on top of a newborn.
So that night, I had his bed all made up with comfy blankets and a big cushy pillow, and we took him in like normal and put him in it. Said goodnight, gave him kisses, and shut the door. Now, this part is this single most important thing we did: we put a gate on his door. I honestly don't know how we would have remained sane if it weren't for that gate. Him coming out of his room multiple times? Possibly wandering the house at night when we're sleeping? No thank you. Not to mention that the bedrooms are upstairs and I'd had visions of him tumbling down them in the dark. So the gate was a safety precaution as well as peace of mind for me.
In hindsight though, I think it definitely helped to teach him that once we put him in his room and put the gate up, it means bed time. The gate is not there during the day so he can go in and out. The first night of the Big Boy Bed, he didn't get out of bed a single time. He went right to sleep without a peep. Of course, that was the calm before the storm, because the next few nights were a relay race of running up the stairs and putting him back in bed because he'd stand at the gate and yell for us. It didn't take long for him to catch on, though. Now, if he gets up, we just ignore him and 99% of the time, he gets back in bed and goes to sleep himself. Occasionally he'll want something, like a drink or a hug or a story, and we always get him whatever he needs.
He was about 18 months old when we made the transition so he's been sleeping in his bed successfully for close to ten months. Naps, however, are another story and he generally refuses them now (although he did used to take them just fine, even in the toddler bed). So I have no advice there. Except that sometimes, you may need to turn the bed to the wall so the kiddo can't get out repeatedly (if you have a crib that has been transitioned, that is). We've had to do this a handful of times when he was extra defiant to show him that we mean business.
I have to add though that very rarely did he ever cry or act scared to be in the bed. We've never had to sit with him until he fell asleep or do anything else drastic. So, again, probably a sign that I'm not the best person to get advice from. But this was my experience and I hope that it helps somewhat. I think the key is consistency and probably the best thing you can do is to just keep trying, keep putting them back in the bed, and don't give in. Of course, if you truly feel that your child isn't ready yet, then by all means, don't force it. Take a break and try again in a week or so.
And now that I feel like a The More You Know commercial, I'll end with a video of Beckett from a few days ago. He can clap! *sniff*
Monday, November 12, 2007
Time, that is. Thursday? Have I really not blogged since Thursday? For shame, for shame.
I've been busy, though. Saturday, I went purple.
And I don't think I could be any more in love with it. My girl did such a good job! I feel like a rock star. And that sounds so corny but seriously. Rock. Star. It's weird how a new hair cut and color can give you so much more confidence. Although I think I almost gave a few ladies at church a heart attack yesterday. The median age of our congregation is probably 60 so you can imagine the looks I got. And I'm sure it didn't help that when someone would ask about it, I told them it was to match my full back tattoo. I've never seen eyes pop wide faster.
It's fun though and I figure I better have my fun now while I don't have a stuffy professional job that prohibits anything "weird." [insert giant eyeroll here]
And I know a bunch of you left questions for me in comments on past posts, and I promise I'll get to them! I'm going to write some answers as separate posts in the next couple days. You gave me some good topics.
This post was supposed to have more guts but Beckett apparently thought it would be fun to sleep a total of 40 minutes total all day, and is currently yelling for me from his bed. Please wish me some patience so I don't lock myself in a closet with my iPod..
Thursday, November 8, 2007
As much as I talk about Beckett NOT wanting to sleep, it wouldn't be fair not to mention how much Sawyer flat out adores it. Seriously. This is a kid who has been sleeping 12 hours straight through the night since he was about two months old, and who we have never had a problem with getting him to go to sleep. He loves his bed and when he was 18 months old or so, he would actually ask to take naps. He'd find his blanket (which he calls his 'mimi') and truck upstairs, then go right to sleep without a peep.
He has since dropped his nap most days unless I force him by turning his bed to the wall (it's a crib turned toddler bed so there are still rails on three sides). But at night we never have a problem. DH usually does the bedtime honors and Sawyer is now old enough that he'll tell me he loves me and give me kisses. It's so fabulous.
Last night, he was being a pistol and throwing fits at the drop of a hat, about sending me off the deep end since Beckett was also being a beast by screeching and clawing and attempting to bite me. He refused all our suggestions for dinner and instead threw himself into a flailing heap of limbs on the floor, so DH took him up to his room to chill out. Ten minutes later, he was asleep at 6:30pm. Without dinner and his regular bedtime still an hour and a half away.
Now, once he's asleep, you can not wake him, lest you'd like to take on the beast on a whole new level. He is not a happy kid when his sleep is interrupted. But I felt insanely guilty for putting him to bed without dinner, so DH and I devised a plan to bring him a meal in his room no matter what time he woke up. Quesadillas and pears, even if it was 4am.
We went to bed around midnight and he was still sleeping. It had gotten cold in the house, so I pulled a quilt from the closet and took it in to bundle him up. He sat up when he saw me, grinning from ear to ear. I covered him up with the quilt and asked him if he was going back to sleep.
"Yes, I go night night!"
"Okay, baby, I love you, night night."
"I love you, Mommy."
And when I was halfway to the door, I heard him mumble, "Thanks!"
Seriously, how can you not completely melt after something like that? You can't not.
He also can eat yogurt with a spoon now, which he probably could have done a long time ago if I hadn't been too scared of the mess to let him. He's becoming very particular about which chair he sits in to eat (it must be the Big Boy Chair) as well as what he eats. He used to be a garbage disposal and would eat anything we put in front of him, which made it really easy to feed him a good diet full of fruit, veggies and protein. Lately, however, he turns his nose up at anything that isn't pizza, PB&J, or smothered in cheese. Typical kid, I guess. Although he does still love most any fruit, so I'm thankful for that at least.
And Beckett. What can I say about him. He's growing up faster than I remember it happening with Sawyer, yet it still seems to drag by, if that makes any sense. The sleep deprivation has me worn pretty thin, but I've given up on lamenting over it and have just decided to accept whatever sleep pattern he chooses. I don't feel like there's much I can do to change it until he weans anyway, so it's pointless to get worked up over it. As I type I can hear him waking up for the third time since we put him down two hours ago. Le sigh.
He seems so much older to me than a week shy of eight months, what with almost eight teeth lighting up his once gummy smile and being fully mobile. He can crawl clear across the house in less than ten seconds and will pull up on anything of height. Cruising is just around the corner and I have a feeling he will walk before Sawyer did.
He still doesn't care much for solids. Some days he'll gobble it up at every meal but most days he refuses it (quite loudly) unless it's super sweet fruit. He wants nothing to do with most veggies other than sweet potatoes and isn't crazy about meat either. He's great at self-feeding though so we may just jump right in to table food soon. Even on his good days with solids though, it still makes no difference on his sleep so I'm not in much of a hurry.
Most pictures I get of both of them these days are either of a backside or a chubby blonde blur. I couldn't believe I actually caught all four of them looking at the camera in the above picture. Don't be fooled, as that moment will likely never be captured on camera again. The other two are my friend's boys that I was watching for her that day. They are ages four and two. And yes, my 2-year-old and 8-month-old are the same size as them, respectively. I grow giants.
These are more typical of my usual captures. I generally have to take 60 or so in order to get a couple good face shots, and on the day I took these, I didn't get any. Hey, at least he has a cute butt.
I've been neglecting you, bloggy friends! I apologize. DH and I have both been making a conscious effort to spend less time on the computer and more time together. We've had a relapse already. Shocking, right? So while it's been nice to take a break, I've been missing the blog world. My Bloglines is lit up with hundreds of unread posts that I'll probably never catch up on, but someone gave me a nudge to update so here I am.
Yesterday, a friend from high school that I hadn't seen in about two years stopped by for a visit. Yes, that's right, contact with the outside world! Go me. Anyway, it was nice. We got caught up on the latest happenings and then decided to take the boys to lunch at Bob Evans. Had I known in advance the idiocy that would ensue, we would have just stuck with the Mickey D's drive-thru.
We got there and were seated and the waitress came by to take our drink order. I put Sawyer's food in right away because he raises hell if he has to sit still for too long without stuffing his face. Chicken strips and smiley face potatoes. Easy enough, right? A few minutes later she came back by and took our orders, which we had to repeat three times while she stared at us and slowly nodded her head, looking completely confused. Ohhhh boy.
Fast forward about twenty minutes. Sawyer's food finally came, just in the nick of time as he'd been rolling around under the table and trying to dump out the salt and pepper. Chicken strips and fries. Yes, fries, not smiley face potatoes. I told her it was wrong and she again stared at me dumbfoundedly. I pointed to the picture in the kid's menu of the potatoes and she acted like she'd never seen them before in her life. You know, these things? Right here on the menu? Yeah, that's what I ordered.
So back to the kitchen she went, and at this point we had been there over half an hour and I'd still not received a single refill. We waited another good fifteen minutes and then she finally brought the potatoes (which at this point he had no interest in eating since he'd already devoured the fries). Still no sign of the rest of our food. By this time, Beckett was pretty much over the whole experience and no amount of Puffs was keeping him quiet. I paced with him and tried to keep Sawyer from tearing across the restaurant while my friend asked her for the check and to just box up our meals and we'd take it home.
MORE awkward staring, stuttering, and flipping through her order pad. Then back to the kitchen again, where we watched her tap away at the computer trying to get together our check for ANOTHER ten minutes. She finally brought it to us, along with one box.
"We will need more than one box."
"More than one?"
"Um.. yes? We each had a meal, plus his that he didn't finish? Did they already box ours up?"
Frantic flipping through the order book again. And then she said, "Umm, be right back, something isn't right here."
GEE, ya think?!
We watched her bustle back behind the counter and scramble with some boxes, shouting at the cooks that she needed our orders. We waited some more. And waited. And waited. And watched the manager walk around apologizing to other tables, but never stopping by ours. Finally, I was sick of it and we packed the now screaming kids up and went to the register, where the manager checked us out. I told him we only ever received the kids meal, and got an annoyed "Sorry about that" and nothing else.
So I paid a whole $3.20 for the chicken meal, plus a dollar tip, which I'm not even sure why I left. See, I'm not a sympathetic tipper. You have to earn your tip from me. The husband has worked as a server before and always leaves a tip, no matter what. Not I. Your tip starts at 20% and goes downhill from there the crappier your service gets. I never got a refill, Sawyer's order was wrong, and we never even got our food after being there for an hour. So she's lucky I even gave her that dollar. I think I only wrote it in because the manager was breathing down my neck watching me sign the receipt, and I had a twinge of guilt as I signed.
And yes, you can bet on it that I'll be emailing corporate with a copy of this blog post. I wouldn't go back there and pay, but I'll try again on their dime. Not that I even needed to be eating the caramel banana pecan pancakes I ordered, not in the slightest, so maybe the pancake gods were trying to tell me something?
Monday, November 5, 2007
I was all geared up to write 30 posts in 30 days for NaBloPoMo. I had some ideas ready and planned to look to some other blogs for interesting writing prompts.
Then Halloween happened, and seemed to drain me of every ounce of energy and motivation I had, and I decided to take a short bloggy vacation instead. I haven't checked in on my Bloglines feeds in days and the 'new post' button on my dashboard has gone untouched. So, like a few others, I'm a drop-out. But that's okay! I'll enjoy reading a post a day for the whole month at my favorite blogs. I never was good at meeting deadlines anyhow.
And I have to say, the break has been nice and much-needed. I had a very ME weekend, which I don't do very often. Friday night, my mom and I treated ourselves to Starbucks. I sipped hot chocolate and munched a pumpkin cream cheese muffin as we sank ourselves into their big comfy chairs and had a nice chat. We try to do this about once a month and I always look forward to it. I'm so lucky that DH doesn't mind at all and in fact, encourages me to go out and leave the boys with him. He knows I need the break and is always good at reminding me that it's OKAY to want that break. Sometimes my mommy guilt clouds over me and I feel so bad leaving them for a few hours, but I feel so refreshed and reenergized when I do.
Saturday, I left Beckett with DH and took Sawyer with me to my sister's softball game. I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a chance to do something with just him, and it was so nice. Seriously, you cannot believe how much easier it is to only have to worry about a two-year-old and no baby. I was able to actually sit down and STAY sitting down as he played around me. No fumbling a squirmy baby, no trying to discreetly nurse a distractable infant among dozens of people, no shushing or swaying or walking. Yes, I'm definitely one of the few mamas who can't wait for the baby stage to be over. I don't want my babies to stay babies. I love the age Sawyer is at and will be a much more stress-free mom when Beckett is there.
My judgement is probably clouded a little by the fact that he still wakes, oh, five or six times a night. Those of you who deal with a sporadic night-waker and still go on to have more kids, my hats are off to you. I'm just not that resilient I guess and I'm not ashamed to admit it. It is HARD. I thrive on sleep and am a wreck without it so this round is it for me, no more babies. DH agrees. So uh, any tips on breaking him of nursing every hour and a half at night would be much appreciated. For the gift of sanity, I would be forever indebted to you.
Saturday night, my parents watched the boys for us so we could make it to church. After two failed attempts at taking them with us, we've accepted the fact that we'll just have to wait until they're a little older to enjoy church as a family. It's either a battle to keep them quiet throughout the service (resulting in us paying attention to nothing but them and kind of defeating the purpose of going to church in the first place) or they scream for us the whole time in the nursery. Bless the little old lady that runs the place, she does try. But they just aren't comfortable with her and I won't force them to stay there and be hysterical the whole time.
So, we were able to enjoy the service alone for once and it was a nice breather. Afterwards, DH took the boys home and I went out for dinner with some friends I hadn't seen in awhile. I really owe him now because he allowed me TWO getaways this weekend. He's a brave man. I told him he needs to plan something with his friends and asked him, "Don't guys go out to dinner like women? Why can't you do that?"
"Oh, yes, I'll just call Larry and be like, 'Hey, you wanna hit Panera with me? Oh oh and there's a JoAnn's right there, we can make a night of it!'"
Judging by the high-pitched lispy voice he used, I'm guessing that's a no? Men are strange. Don't some guys do the beer and wings and sports thing? Mine is just weird I guess. But then again, I did marry him because he's not a typical man.
So, now we're at Monday morning yet again. We survived falling back an hour and the boys seem to be back on their normal schedule. I'm determined to make this week go by quickly, because Saturday is when I get to head to my hair dresser for a pretty drastic change and I'm antsy with anticipation. Maybe we'll hit up the Children's Museum and meet some friends for lunch. The days always seem to go so much quicker when we get out of the house.
And on that note, the baby is up.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Wow! I was blown away by the number of comments I received on my giveaway post! Thank you all for the wonderful compliments. Hubby picked a number for me, and the winner is #213, Megret. Congrats, mama! I'll be emailing you to get your choices for your blankie.
Everyone else, check out the winners list to see if you were lucky!
Saturday, November 3, 2007
I wouldn't feel right entering without giving something away myself, so the prize I'm offering is a custom monogrammed minkee lovey blanket like this one. The winner will get to choose colors and the name to be embroidered. Many of you know that I sell my things but I don't talk a lot about it because that's not what this blog is about (and because I don't have anything instock!). But I've been doing it for close to three years now and I love giving things away every now and then, just because. It makes me feel good knowing that I may have brightened someone's day.
Please make sure you leave me a way to contact you. If your blog isn't listed in your profile, you need to leave me an email address! There are a couple comments with no blog or email address so unfortunately those will have to be disqualified!
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
As moms, we get used to the fact that 90% of what we say is deflected by our childrens' selective hearing (that they undoubtedly inherited from their fathers). And like every other mom, I can often be heard reiterating some version of, "What did I tell you/Do you remember what I told you/Why did I tell you that?" Knowing full well that I won't get an answer.
But! Sometimes kids surprise us. Today I was attempting to trim Sawyer's hair over his ears and at the nape of his neck. As cute as the rattail was, it needs to stay in 1994. Now, Sawyer doesn't like any part of being held down, or having various objects near his face. His first and only professional haircut at 21 months old involved many tears.
So, in an attempt to make it quick and painless (on his part anyway, as I was taking a few wild kicks and headbutts to the chin) I had him in my lap with my legs wrapped around his waist, left arm pulling his arms snug to his sides, and right hand wielding the scissors. (Yeah, sounds like a great way to get a straight haircut, right?) I began snip-snip-snipping at the hair over his ears and he kept ducking his head away and trying to shield with his hands.
"Sawyer, just hold still, it doesn't hurt when you cut hair. What hurts is when you wiggle and thrust yourself at the scissors."
More head-bobbing and swatting. And then he said, "MOMMY. This is scissors. This is very dangerous."
Now, how can you even begin to argue with that? I had no choice but to leave his hair lopsided, because I have no clue how to explain to a 2-year-old that he shouldn't play with scissors but Mommy can cut pieces of his body off with them. A battle for another day, I guess.
Later, we picked my little sister up from school. She wasn't even halfway into the car before Sawyer was chattering away. "ANNA! Hey Anna! You go to school? What you doing? You sit on your seat? I sittin' in my seat. Beckett's in him seat. We go to Grandma's house? Where's Grandma? Hi Anna!" And then, not even a block away from the school and he stops short in his chatter and I can see his eyebrows arch into a concerned look in the rearview mirror.
"ANNA. You wear your seat belt. To be SAFE. Put it on."
He watched closely as she buckled it, then was rattling off questions again.
Once in awhile, he does listen.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
We took the boys to a pumpkin patch today, a first for both of them as well as us. It was a nice little farm, and pretty good sized for actually being inside the city limits of Indianapolis. They had a market, corn mazes, a hay mountain for climbing, pony rides, lots of concession type stuff, some games and a hay ride out to the actual pumpkin patch. Oh, and a giant robotic dinosaur that munched pumpkins!
Out of all those things, which seems most likely to frighten a two-year-old? The dinosaur, right? Or maybe the ponies if he's extra skittish? Wrong and wrong again. No, Sawyer was afraid of the hay ride. The tractor pulling a trailor filled with hay that tugged along at a whole five miles per hour. He cried the entire way to and from the pumpkin patch, complete with a dramatic flop of his body among the hay. He even refused a Snickers bar from a nice lady sitting across from us, and you know it's serious when my child turns down candy.
As soon as we were off the trailor, he switched gears and skipped all over the pumpkin field, sitting down at every pumpkin in his path and hugging it. His eyes were bigger than his body because he kept trying to pick up pumpkins that weighed more than he does. Then he wanted a green pumpkin, and then a pumpkin that was split open with flies grazing on the fruit. We finally convinced him to pick up one small enough that he could carry it himself, and he did lug it all the way back to the trailor on his own.
We explored a corn maze, which Sawyer deemed as "too cool!" and then hit the market where he chose a green apple to munch on the way home. We hit concessions on the way to the car and picked up a giant bag of kettle corn which DH and I have already almost polished off. If you've never had fresh kettle corn, you're missing out. It is nothing like the microwave kettle corn. At all. Our ability to eat a whole 4-foot-tall bag in one day is proof of that.
Tomorrow we'll paint the pumpkins to adorn our front porch, because Wednesday is Halloween. And then it's November. And OHMYGOD how is 2007 almost over already??
Saturday, October 27, 2007
I've gotten several hits from searches about tattoos while nursing, and I've also had many people ask me personally if it is safe to be inked while breastfeeding, so I thought I would post some helpful links. I researched thoroughly before I decided to go ahead with it, just in case anyone reading was wondering about that. And yes, my artist knows I am breastfeeding. ;)
Ultimately it is a personal decision and I know both moms who waited until they were done nursing and also those, like me, who felt safe having it done with a nursling still at home. Hopefully this info will help anyone who still may be on the fence about it.
"There is no evidence that getting a tattoo will affect breastfeeding. There should be no harm to mom or baby from the dyes injected. If you get a tattoo, the biggest concern for anyone (not just nursing moms) is infection (hepatitis or HIV)-- so make sure the place you go has good references and is clean."
La Leche League FAQ on Tattoos and Breastfeeding
"Tattoos are created by injecting ink into the dermal (second and third) layer of the skin. Tattooists use a hand-held electric machine that is fitted with solid needles coated in the ink. The needles enter the skin hundreds of times a minute to a depth of up to a few millimeters. The ink that is used in tattoos in the United States is subject to FDA regulation as cosmetics, but none are approved for injection under the skin. However, the ink molecules are too large to pass into breastmilk.
General information about tattooing also applies to breastfeeding women. Local and systemic infections are the most prevalent risks of tattooing. Local infections can occur when the recommended aftercare regimen is not followed. Aftercare includes keeping the tattoo clean with mild soap and water, not picking at the scabs and keeping the tattoo out of the sun. Tylenol is often prescribed for the pain, if needed. Systemic infections occur when universal precautions are not followed by the tattoo artist and can include such diseases as hepatitis, tetanus and HIV.
It is very important to screen the tattooist and the shop carefully, checking with the local health department for local laws and regulations. Professional tattooists will follow universal precautions such as sterilization of the tattoo machine using an autoclave, single-use inks, ink cups, gloves and needles, bagging of equipment to avoid cross contamination, and thorough hand washing with disinfectant soap. Most tattooists will not knowingly tattoo a pregnant or breastfeeding mother. It is suggested that mothers wait at least until the child's first birthday to give their bodies a chance to recover completely from childbirth before getting a tattoo."
What do we think? I was a little disappointed to see that she hadn't drawn anything new, but now it's much more special that it's the actual original drawing I did myself and I adore the end result. I love the shading and leaves she added (I decided I didn't want the tree to be dead, LOL). Click here to see it larger. It took about an hour and a half, not too bad. I already made an appointment November 30th to do Beckett's. I was planning to put his on my chest but now I'm leaning towards putting it under the tree and starting a sleeve.
Friday, October 26, 2007
SILENCE. Finally. Both boys are asleep and I'm sitting on my duff doing absolutely nothing because I'm too scared I'll make noise and wake them up. Today must be Crab Day because both boys are whinier than a grown man with a hangnail. They're still fighting their colds and I got a peek into Beckett's mouth earlier and it looks like tooth #7 has made its debut. I'm hoping #8 follows quickly behind so we can be done with this teething business for awhile.
As for Sawyer, who knew starting the wrong Dora episode was grounds for a toddler-induced F5 tornado. 'Nuff said.
So instead of cleaning the house like I should be, I'm putzing around on Flickr looking at tattoos. Because does anyone remember what tonight is? Sawyer's Tree! I'm getting pumped. And after the day I've had, it will definitely be a good hurt under the needle and AWAY from the house for a few hours.
Umm, yeah, Beckett just woke up. Already. So I'm cutting this short, but I have to share these:
Food tattoos. They intrique me. Especially the cupcakes. Seriously, how cute are those?!
1. Yummy, 2. fruit, 3. keep sweet, 4. lucky cat w/ sushi, 5. corn, 6. P1010022, 7. Cherry Tattoo, 8. cupcake, 9. Candy Apple
Created with fd's Flickr Toys.
And my new obsession: sewing tattoos! I've been trying to get ideas for my quilt tattoo and I found these.
1. sewing machine tattoo, 2. pincushion tattoo, 3. my sewing machine tattoo, 4. my new tattoo, done by Julian at Rising Sun, 5. sewing machine, 6. Picture 267, 7. blue sewing machine?!, 8. stork scissors!, 9. thread and needle
Created with fd's Flickr Toys.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I swear, there isn't anything this kid does any more that doesn't make me laugh. (Okay, I don't laugh when he's giving the dials on my serger a spin, especially when I can't remember what they were set on, but most of the time, I'm laughing.)
Sawyer has this Diego field journal thingy that's like a Magnadoodle on the inside. He's always asking me to draw stuff. It used to be just squares and circles or the alphabet but lately he has gone to more complicated things. Our conversation just now went like this:
"Mommy! Draw balloons."
I quickly scrawled out three balloons.
"Thanks, Mommy! Now draw a tapir."
Um, WHAT? Okay.. I drew a blobby thing with a long snout and hoped he'd accept it as a tapir.
"OOOOHHH, it is a tapir! Thanks! Now draw a jaguar."
I drew a pretty kickass jaguar, if I do say so myself. Spots, whiskers, triangular nose and all. Maybe slightly domestic looking, but I didn't figure he would notice. And what does he say?
"Umm.. it's a cat, Mommy."
I am so in for it when he's a teenager. The kid will be smarter than me, I know it.
The other thing that makes me laugh is how kids are so honest. They aren't afraid to tell you that you're fat or look weird or shouldn't eat that third donut. Sawyer particularly loves to squish my saggy belly pouch in the shower and laugh, saying, "Ewww, gross, Mommy!" And the other day, he informed me that my morning bed head hair was "like a big bird." At least I know whose opinion to trust when I get a new outfit, right?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
We just got over a nasty cold a few weeks ago and already, we're getting hit again. A product of the moms group Halloween party we attended last week, I'm sure. The baby hasn't been sleeping more than two hours at a time for the past four nights and it's just a fabulously good time, let me tell you. Sawyer wore a permanent scowl today as he walked around and randomly wiped his nose on the furniture if I didn't catch him with a tissue soon enough.
Speaking of snotty noses, back when I was childless, yet apparently knew everything there was to know about child rearing (like we all did when we were still blissfully unaware, you know), I always scoffed at the children I'd see at the grocery store with crusty green mustaches. My child will never be dirty in public! *snort*
Then I had a Sawyer. And I realized that while nauseating and embarrassing enough to wear a disguise so as not to be recognized, quiet and crusty-faced is still better than a clean screamer. Because toddlers? They do not like it when you try to wipe their nose. In fact, mine dislikes it so much that he perfected the art of making it seem like I'm brutally beating him. Which, as you can imagine, doesn't go over well in public. I'll take a little bit of snot over the "pulling out my cell phone to call CPS" glares, thanks.
I'm just hoping this passes quickly, because it'll be a little hard for me to sit still for my tattoo on Friday if I'm sneezing and hacking up a lung all over the artist. Plus we were planning to hit up the pumpkin patch on Saturday and tackling that with an entire sick family is not on my list of fun things to do.
Luckily, both boys went to bed without incident for my mom last night while DH and I were out having a quiet dinner at The Melting Pot. Alone. No children. Yes, it was wonderful. There were roses and a card waiting for me on the table and we had a private corner booth that made it seem like we were the only patrons in the whole restaurant. And we left weighing about five pounds more than when we went in.
Tomorrow's installment: the husband's first tattoo (yes, I'm dragging him over to the dark side) and how I tried to defend myself from burglars with a broom stick. Mensa candidate right here, y'all.
Oh, and if you could, please clicky that Top Momma button at the top of the page! Or, if you're using a reader, you can just click here. Lets see how long I last!
Monday, October 22, 2007
Has it only been two years? The husband and I were married two years ago today but it seems like a lifetime ago. I don't remember life without him and I don't care to. We've known each other much longer than that, so maybe that's why.
We practically grew up together, playing on the same high school tennis team in a tiny Texas town. I first met him when I was 12, and secretly had a crush on him all through middle school. Once I got to high school, he was the guy all the girls were after; a senior and a quiet guy with a cute smile and a curl in his hair. And I was the timid freshman, sure that I didn't stand a chance at getting him to notice me but still determined to try.
We did end up dating for a short time in high school, but not long enough to really even count as a relationship. My dad caught us kissing in the driveway once after practice, and I remember trying to pass it off as a dare from the other girls. But believe me, no one had to dare me to kiss him. I was plenty willing!
After he graduated, he moved to Arizona to go to a local college in Phoenix, and shortly after that, my dad's job relocated him and we moved to Indiana. I didn't talk to him for nearly two years. One day, I decided to send a note to his old email address and see if he still checked it. Much to my surprise, I received a response, and we began talking again. We'd talk on the phone a lot, just a platonic relationship. For me it was a way to hang on to the life I once knew.
A few months after we reconnected, he told me he was being sent to Indiana on a business trip. I was so incredibly excited and begged my mom to take me to see him. We hadn't lived here long and didn't know that Ft. Wayne was a two-hour drive north. But we made the trip, and had an amazing time. He kissed me in his hotel room that night and rekindled something I never thought would ever be again. My mom still to this day says that if she had known how far we would have to drive, we never would have gone. Thank goodness for small miracles, right?
After that, we talked non-stop. I entered my senior year of high school and had my fair share of boyfriends, but he was always in the back of my mind. For Spring Break that year, he invited me to come to Phoenix for a week, and I was ecstatic. I did go, and to describe it in one word: life-changing. I still can't believe my parents let me go, but I thank my lucky stars that they did. After returning home, I sent him an email and mustered up the guts to tell him in that email that I loved him. His response was less than stellar, because he didn't say it back. But I assured him my feelings would be the same if he ever changed his mind.
Despite the distance, our relationship flourished, and five months later in March of 2004, he made the leap of faith to quit his job in Arizona, pack his things, and move to Indiana. It was an incredible decision to make in that he had no job lined up here and was just trusting that he would be able to find one. He lived with my parents (for much longer than expected, actually) and I am thankful every day that they took him in and allowed us to make things work. I was still at college at that time and would drive home every weekend to see him.
I always love telling our story because I think it's such an amazing example of fate and how everything happens for a reason. What if we hadn't moved to Indiana, or I hadn't ever emailed him, or he hadn't chosen to work for that particular company that sent him to Indiana? It's such a crazy chain reaction.
It sounds like such a short time, but like I said, it seems so, so much longer. We've been through so much and in that short time, we've had two children, one wedding, bought two houses and changed jobs twice. We've seen life, death, hardship, rejoicing and everything in between. And I wouldn't change a thing.
Happy two years of complete bliss to my amazing husband. You are my happy ending.
Friday, October 19, 2007
And I'm not talking about in your child's food. I'm talking about in your carpet.
Do you ever compose blog posts in your head before you actually type them? That's what I was doing while mopping a foot-wide puddle of Karo from my linoleum and contemplating how in the world to get the circular swirls of it out of my carpet.
I swear, this child could start World War III in five minutes with the way he's able to destroy my house in the times it takes me to pee or get Beckett from his room. I know how my night will be spent: borrowing my parents' steam cleaner and installing a lock on the pantry, which I thought about months ago and should have already done.
And in typical Sawyer fashion, there always has to be a finale: today it was peeing on the floor after I got him out of the bath tub in the 2.5 seconds it took me to find a diaper.
Cages. A good thing sometimes. (Kidding, of course, which I have to say or I'll worry that someone will read my blog and think I'm inhumane and crate my kids like puppies.)
In all seriousness, the kid is not neglected. He's just really good at causing chaos in no time flat. Ask my DH about the time he emptied a whole bottle of Windex onto the couch when they were in the SAME room together. I kid you not. This child is a master at watching for a turned back. And I think it makes us look like inattentive parents but anyone with a toddler knows how quickly it can happen. I'm just glad he's not one of those that likes to climb on top of the TV and attempt to fly. Yeah, I think I'll take his food obsession over death-defying super toddler.
On that note, I'm thinking it might be wise for us to invest in some hardwood floors. I don't know how much more my carpet can take.
I did catch a cute picture of them today. Sawyer insisted on wearing my yellow shirt (which SHRUNK to half its original length in the dryer, and I am pissed, because I liked that shirt) and dancing around like a maniac. Beckett was enjoying the show.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
My child is only two years old and already is picking up disgusting habits. He picks his nose. He bites his nails. He picks at scabs. He is a boy, and is therefore disgusting by default.
But the most nauseating habit by far is his obesession with chewing and sucking on the corner of his blanket. One specific corner. All the time. He has two of the same blanket (because you always need a back-up with things like this) and both, up until today, had a brown, gnarly corner that absolutely reeked. Seriously, no matter how many times I washed them, the brown didn't go away and the stink was huge. We'd go into his room in the morning and be knocked over from the stench. No amount of bleach gets rid of the smell of day-old saliva.
I caught him chewing on the gross corner again this morning and had had enough. So I snatched both blankets from him and performed a quick Frankenstein operation on them. Sliced off the offending corners and replaced them with crisp, new satin binding. HALLELUJAH, no more stink. For now, anyway. I already caught him searching for a new corner to deface. Methinks we may just have to put them away for good, but I'm not quite ready for the sobbing and pleading that will ensue when we do that. So for now, I'll keep hacking them up.
This was him telling me, "Ohhhh, it's green! Thanks, Mommy!" And then he began frantically searching for his beloved corner and upon realizing it was gone, started chewing a new spot. Sigh.
And Beckett. Sweet Chunky Face. He turned seven months old today. It's looking like seven months is going to be the Magic Age for him, because it's like someone flipped a switch and turned my monster baby into an angelic little cherub. He no longer screeches all day or insists on being a permanent growth from my hip. He plays with Sawyer and crawls around the house on his own and laughs all the time. All three naps yesterday and today were taken without a fuss, by himself. THREE. This is monumental.
He's finally starting to realize that solids aren't so bad and gobbled down two big meals today, which in turn meant he actually spaced out his nursings a little. It was nice to not be on a newborn's nursing schedule for once.
I was nursing him tonight and he was being so playful and cute. He'd suck a bit and then pop off, causing milk to spray all over his face. He'd shoot a big grin up at me and wait for me to say, "Beckett! Why'd you do that!" and then dissolve in a fit of giggles. I am so not used to him being this happy and playful all the time and I LOVE it. I really hope it continues because if it does, I will feel like a new woman.
Happy 7 Months, Funny Face!
Today I was finally strong enough to rid the freezer of 58 ounces of liquid gold. With the average freezer shelf life (not a deep freeze) for breastmilk being 2-3 months, this stuff from March and April was not even usable. Beckett refused the bottle until he was almost six months old, so my stash of milk I had pumped in the first six weeks of oversupply just sat.
But there's an attachment that only another nursing mother can understand and I could never bring myself to throw it out until now. I needed the shelf space for the next stage of food, and in essence, stage of life. Next on the list: bury the placenta.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Bear with me while I tweak my layout! Any odd color combinations and layout quirks will be worked out soon.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
I'm following the lead of VDog and showing you my desktop for the desktop meme. I'm actually quite proud of mine (and yes,
slightly incredibly anal retentive about it). When I got my 24" iMac (aka my Baby), I spent quite awhile deciding which programs to use and which to have in my dock, and replacing all the system icons with cuter, more hip icons.
And yes, you too can have a kickin' desktop! These are the two programs I use to change my system icons and organize all the icons I've collected. They're both free for a limited time, although I paid for them because they rock that much. Oh, and you have to have a Mac to use them. Because anything else is just not cool enough. ;)
- CandyBar2 - Trick out your Trashcan. Decorate your Drives. Mix up Mail.
CandyBar 2 lets you change the Mac OS X icons you usually can't!
- Pixadex - Pixadex is to icons, what Apple's iPhoto is to images. Brought to you by Panic and the Iconfactory, the team who created CandyBar, Pixadex lets you import, organize and search huge numbers of icons quickly and easily. Pixadex lets you store all of your icons in a single place, organized into collections that you create.
And here's a list of places I get wallpapers and icons from. Sharing the love.
- Pixel Girl Presents - snag the slickest Mac OS X, XP and Icontainer iconsets and desktop images as well as offering tutorials, articles and links.
- The Iconfactory - For all your icon urges
- Deviant Art OS Icons
- Deviant Art Wallpapers
My wallpaper actually changes every five minutes because I love my collection and can never decide which to use. So I took two caps, just for fun. These are actually on different days and I have changed the icons since the first one was taken, hence the different docks. My screen resolution is 1920x1200. Fabulous.
And just so I can be a total geek, the apps in my doc are, from left to right: Finder, Email (yes, that's Hedwig the owl!), iTunes, System Preferences, my camera uploader, Adium (instant messenger), Firefox, Photoshop CS3, jUploadr (Flickr upload client), Chicken of the VNC (to connect to my old computer), Safari, Preview. And the green monster on the far right is my trash can. :)
And here is my Dashboard. Flickr upload client, pictures from my stream, Threadless, Gmail widget, Bloglines notifier, Harmonic, and your standard weather and time widgets.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Today I got the incredible urge to do something crazy again, much the same way it happened the night I was out with some friends and ended up with my first tattoo an hour later. So after picking up some fleece from JoAnn's, DH drove me to the tattoo shop and I got this beauty.
Next on the list: my hair will be making friends with some black and purple dye. Stay tuned.
And by the way, I know, it looks like I have a 'stache in the first picture. I'm not cool enough to know how to Photoshop it. I think it was the lighting? I promise I'm not a man.
Friday, October 12, 2007
I have to take a minute to send out a quick plug. Last week I participated in the Cyber Baby Shower hosted by 5 Minutes for Mom, and I won a prize! I was lucky enough to snag an adorable tee from Blessed Baby. They offer stylish and sophisticated clothing and accessories that also spread the word of God. I chose the Blessed Baby toddler tee, which features an uplifting scripture on the back.
Here are a couple pictures of Beckett modeling his new duds. Thanks again to Blessed Baby for such a cool prize!
What happens when big brother doesn't want to share his puzzle pieces?
Baby brother gets slashed with the samurai fingernails of doom.
I'm sure this is the first of many injuries that will happen at the hand of his sibling. We've been lucky with Sawyer and not had anything too bloody in his two years of life. But I know it's coming, and my bets are on Beckett. Not only is he much more fearless than Sawyer ever was (he's leaped off the couch before I could catch him more than once) but he has the factor of younger brother against him as well.
The younger sibling always seems to be the victim, as was shown by my little brother and I growing up. I was responsible for stitches in his head on two separate occasions involving a wooden baseball bat and a merry-go-round. It definitely wasn't on purpose, but he was so good at obeying my every command, which resulted in him playing catcher too close to my swing and also falling underneath the spinning merry-go-round as he helped me push it. Needless to say, I was faster than him.
As if having me help him along in his injuries wasn't enough, he was also incredibly accident-prone and received stitches in incidents involving a concrete step, a paring knife, a school desk, a broken wine glass and my dad's elbow. Not to mention the numerous sprains and breaks as well as water on the knee. Yeah, the kid has had his fair share of bumps and bruises.
I, on the other hand, have never broken a bone and never had stitches or spent the night in the hospital (not counting Sawyer's birth). So if our children follow my lead, Beckett is in for a rough ride. Maybe I should bite the bullet and invest in a helmet while I still have the chance?
Thursday, October 11, 2007
I really wish you could explain to me why your crib seems to be so evil today, and why a nap is so incredibly unappealing. You know that schedule we worked out? The whole go to sleep after being awake for two hours thing? You were doing really good with that. You even got the hang of falling asleep on your own for a little while. Did something happen to change your mind? Monster in the closet? Indigestion? An incredible urge to see Mommy jump in front of a bus?
Even though it took two hours, I do appreciate that you finally went to sleep. You really shouldn't drive Mommy's blood pressure up so high, though. That's not good for you or me. Believe me, if I could cut off a boobie and let you sleep with it, I would. Doctors are still working on that. Until then, lets remember that taking a nap keeps Mommy sane, okay? All the cool kids are doing it. And you, my son, are very cool.
By nothing short of a miracle, you took a nap today for the first time in two weeks. You have no idea how happy that makes me and I would smother you in kisses if you would let me. However, it was really kind of rude of you to fling your door open the second my foot hit the bottom step after getting your brother to sleep. It really would have been nice to have a few minutes to eat, or pee, or you know, breathe.
I will say that I appreciate that you can at least tell me what you want. Even if it does mean that you turn up your nose at my suggestion of grapes and an English muffin, and instead demand "cakes in a bowl." For both breakfast and lunch. I do apologize for my failed attempt at a creative lunch though. I won't be making that again.
Also. The fridge. We really need to work on learning that it's not there for your entertainment. Yes, it's very neat that you figured out how to open the door and insist on practicing that skill 50 times an hour. However, as much as you enjoy carrying around jars of pickles and grape jelly, cleaning the shattered remains of them off the linoleum is not my idea of a good time. I already did that once last week.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
This is my 50th post! I know, impressive, right?
I met with my tattoo artist tonight and the date is set -- October 26th at 7pm, I'll be getting Sawyer's tree. I told her what changes and improvements I wanted made to my sketch so it will be exciting to see what she comes up with. Of course, I'm the most impatient person in the world and will go nothing short of crazy waiting. But what's two more weeks to have it for the rest of my life, right?
We also met with our new family doctor for the first time today for Beckett's 6-month check-up. Chunky weighs 22 pounds and is 30 inches long. This milk bar apparently produces soft serve. Chocolate and swirl.
I'm attempting to actually go to bed at a decent hour tonight, so I can't stew over this blog post for two hours like I normally do. So here's what we had for dinner tonight. Sinfully bad for you but too good for me to care!
Prep Time: 10 min
Total Time: 24 min
Makes: 4 servings, one sandwich each
1 lb. lean ground beef
6 RITZ Crackers, finely crushed
1/4 cup KRAFT 100% Grated Parmesan Cheese
3/4 cup spaghetti sauce, divided
12 KRAFT Cheddar Cheese Cubes
4 hot dog buns, partially split
PREHEAT oven to 400ºF. Mix meat, cracker crumbs, Parmesan cheese and 1/4 cup of the spaghetti sauce in medium bowl. Shape into twelve meatballs, using about 2 Tbsp. meat mixture for each.
PLACE, 2 inches apart, in shallow baking pan sprayed with cooking spray. Press 1 cheese cube deeply into center of each meatball.
BAKE 14 min. or until meatballs are cooked through (160ºF). Meanwhile, microwave remaining 1/2 cup spaghetti sauce in small microwaveable bowl on HIGH 30 sec. or until heated through (adult assisted).
SPOON sauce evenly into buns. Fill each with three meatballs.
We also did the Bacon, Cheese and Potato Chowder. Not quite as sinful and very very yummy.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
I'm getting the itch for more ink. I'm calling the artist tomorrow to schedule a time to go in and talk to her about my design. I'm planning to do my tree tattoo for Sawyer next. I drew up a rough sketch tonight that I'm somewhat happy with, but I'm hoping she can add her own touch to it to make it ten times better. It needs shading and more depth.
If you look closely, you can see Sawyer's name in the roots. I'm not sure if I really like the placement of it, but I know I want his name in there somewhere.
This will be on my upper arm/shoulder, with the trunk and roots on my bicep and the branches cascading up and over my shoulder.
Monday, October 8, 2007
I've been saving these up to compile a post for awhile and I think I have enough now. So today, I bring you my most interesting Google search referrals to my blog.
My top referrer by a landslide is "Kate Gosselin's belly". I show up in the first page for this! Apparently, people are dying to see a picture of it. Well, you won't find it here. But, I think my saggy skin pouch could compete with hers pretty easily. I saw her show hers on national TV and I have to say that mine is totally that bad and I only carried one baby at a time. For carrying six at once, I expected hers to at least be at her knees. Not impressed!
"My toddler destroys all his board books" - I have a feeling this person was trying to find a way to make her toddler stop destroying all his board books. If she ever finds out I hope she will share the secret, because all books are still on ban in our house for this reason.
"tattoo in snatch, large picture" - No comment. Just a mouth-gaping expression of disgust. And then lots of laughing.
"coral reef tattoo" - This one cracks me up because the first thing that popped into my head was an image of a big pile of my husband's poo tattooed on someone's bicep.
I get lots of hits from searches for different types of tattoos, like nurse tattoos, Boston terrier tattoos, wild boar tattoos and quilt tattoos. I would kindly suggest to anyone thinking about inking themselves up with a wild boar or a portrait of their dog that they reconsider. The only thing I dislike more than human portraits is pet portraits. But if anyone has ever seen a quilt tattoo, I want to know! That would be wild. And totally something I would get.
"public breastfeeding laws in the media" - It makes me smile to know that my blog shows up for this.
Okay, so I didn't have as many as I thought. What are some crazy search terms that have pointed people to your blog?
Sunday, October 7, 2007
My husband and I are going to hell. We hid from the baby tonight. Yes, hid. As in, behind a blanket, holding perfectly still and trying not to laugh.
The boys were playing together with the magnets on the fridge and DH and I were watching TV on the couch. It was the much anticipate Rock of Love reunion and I was glued to the screen. Every now and then I'd hear Sawyer say, "Don't, Beckett. Beckett, stoooop it!" But no screaming or sounds of body parts being impaled with plastic alphabet magnets, so they were fine.
DH got up to peek over the bar at them, and he got too close because Beckett saw him. And when Beckett sees you, that's it. He's coming for you. The kid is like a bloodhound, I'm telling you. DH flew back onto the couch and whispered, "HIDE!!!" as he jerked a blanket over us. We huddled silently under the blanket for a few seconds until I peered out to make sure the coast was clear.
We were giggling and trying to be quiet, and then the shadow of his bald head appeared in the door way and we raised the blanket up to form a wall. I heard him shuffle onto the carpet, babble a bit, and then be still. We sat like that for a good five minutes, until he turned around and crawled back into the kitchen to resume tormenting his brother.
Yes, we are evil. Don't worry, the kids both definitely inherited that trait so there will be paybacks.
Good thing they're cute.
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Well, it looks like we just have a picky eater on our hands. I tried peaches yesterday with Beckett and he gobbled up two cubes in less than five minutes. Fed them to him again this morning, and he went for three cubes and probably would have eaten more. Wouldn't you know that his favorite food would be the one that is a pain to make. But seeing the way he enjoyed it instead of spewing it down his front was priceless and I'll slave away in the kitchen every weekend if I have to so he can have his peaches.
Yesterday I also made pureed plums, mangos and carrots. Those went into the freezer with the nectarines, pears, squash and the already dwindling supply of peaches. This weekend I'll make pumpkin, green beans, peas, sweet potatoes and apples. That should last us a couple months, and by that time he will be old enough to introduce spices and I can start making mixtures of things as whole meals. Pureed garlic chicken with carrots, anyone?
Last night Beckett and I made the 45-minute drive up to the north side to attend the Central Indiana homebirth support group. This was our second time attending and I'm really enjoying it. I can't explain how nice it is to be in the company of people who don't look at you cross-eyed when you say that your placenta is in your freezer.
I really thrive on interaction with other like-minded mamas, because very few people understand why I do things the way I do. DH told me yesterday that a woman at the office shook her head in disgust and told him it was "gross!" that I'm still breastfeeding our 6-month-old. It's attitudes like that that make it hard for me to venture out beyond these concentrated groups that are my comfort zone.
I've been wanting to attend a Holistic Moms meeting but they too are on the north side, even further than the one last night was. It would be an hour drive for me one way, and their meetings don't start until 7pm. With Beckett's bed time at 8 and the odds looking like we wouldn't get home until around 10, I'm not thinking it would be a very pleasant experience. I'm contemplating leaving him with DH and a supply of pumped milk, but I really like taking him with me when I meet new people. Kids are always an ice-breaker, you know. So we'll see.
I don't think I've mentioned it here before, but I've been toying with the idea of beginning training to become a birth doula for awhile now. Since having the boys and feeling within myself that our family is complete, I've been struggling with the question of what I will do with "the rest of my life." Eventually these boys will be in school and old enough that they don't need their mama doting on them all day long, and I know that I'll be at a loss as to what to do with myself when that time comes.
Birth has always fascinated me and since experiencing it myself, it has become my passion. I've read every word on the DONA website and it just calls to me. I think it would be amazing to get into midwifery and I feel like being a doula for awhile first would be a helpful stepping stone in that direction. There is a workshop coming up in January that I'm really excited to sign up for. I've been talking about it with DH and I think I'll go ahead and sign up soon, and also apply for my certification packet to make it official. I'll have two years from the date I get the certification packet to complete it. I've never been this excited about anything career-wise in my life and I can't wait to move forward and start making things happen.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
I'm cheating, because this wasn't taken today. But I needed an excuse to post it. And I guess this is no longer wordless, either. Don't laugh too hard at my farmer's tan.
Check out 5 Minutes For Mom for more Wordless Wednesday photos!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
That batter bowl is filled with almost eight cups of squash. It loaded up four ice cube trays of 14 cubes each. The cubes are about an ounce each, so I made approximately 56 ounces. When you figure that jars of Gerber squash are 2.5 ounces and $0.59 each, that's $0.23 per ounce. I bought the squash for two bucks -- about 3.6 cents per ounce. Sa-weeeeet. It smelled a lot better too. Now my whole house smells like Autumn.
It was actually fun for me to do this time, nothing at all like the horrors of peaches. I want to try some pumpkin next. If only he was older, I could add some cinnamon. Yum. Oh, and I guess it would help if he'd actually eat the food. We're working on that again tomorrow.
Sarah tagged me to tell her what I think should be in the running for "Grosser than Gross." You sure you want to know, Sarah? I think I had one of my grossest moments today, actually. Clearing dishes off the counter and into the dishwasher, and I opened a sippy cup to rinse. Oh, look! It has milk in it from four days ago! It had morphed into a solid moldy milk patty, and let me tell you internet, this is not something you want to experience. It was the worst, most overwhelmingly putrid smell ever. I was literally heaving while I rinsed it down the drain. That, my friends, is grosser than gross.
Sawyer also took off his diaper today and peed on the linoleum, which I later slipped and fell in. That was pretty gross, too. But it's got nothing on the sour milk or grape skin and raisin poops I have scraped into the toilet. I always tell DH that I need to call Mike Rowe and have him feature the dirty job of motherhood on his show. Because I think we wade through the poo and puke with the best of 'em. Just saying.
I'm supposed to pick a couple other people to tell their tales of grossness, so I tag MomSmoo, Louann and Jayna. Gross me out, ladies!
I started this post over an hour ago and the boys have been back (and very loud) for 20 minutes now. So I should get them off to bed and then finish my grocery list so I can replenish the barren shelves of my pantry and we can stop eating the natural disaster rations for dinner.
Monday, October 1, 2007
This is what happens when you take a few minutes to blog while you think the kids are playing nicely in the next room. I know, I know -- why wasn't I watching them? Well, the house is pretty well kid-proofed, so I don't worry about them getting hurt if I take a breather for a couple minutes. Except for the pantry. Most of the stuff on the bottom shelf is harmless -- taco seasoning, cans of beans, bag of brown sugar, box of croutons. But for some reason I haven't moved the Crisco to a higher shelf. (Actually, there is a reason -- the baking stuff goes on the bottom shelf and I can't be having the Crisco off alone away from his baking buddies!)
Usually I hear him open the door, but it must not have been all the way shut because I heard nothing today until he ran up to me and said, "Mommy, I wash my hands!" I spun around in my chair to help him at the sink (he has a new hand-washing obsession) and was met with this:
"Umm, Sawyer, you need to wash your whole head. Now stand still so I can take a picture for my blog."
I tried to get him to stand next to his masterpiece on the couch but the most he would do was sit in the chair for a few seconds. Then it was off to the bath tub, where I discovered that Beckett is terrified of the water if I'm not in it with him. So no brotherly bath time today.
My one piece of advice for anyone with kids that is furniture shopping: when they offer you the Guardsman treatment, take it. Yes, it's a couple hundred dollars more. But trust me. TAKE IT. Our couch has now had run-ins with blood, an entire bottle of Windex, and Crisco. And has lived to tell the tale.
And yes, the Crisco is now on the top shelf.