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!