Kung Foo Feltus

The good stuff

2012-02-11T09:51:00.000-08:00

Last night Aidan was his normal wonky, silly, punchy, tired self. Walking in circles singing a song only he understands while intermittently belly laughing at his own cleverness. Every once in a while flying his animal flashcard of a narwhal like a plane. These are the evenings that Bon and I love so much. Just relaxing and watching the toddler show that is my kid in a great mood. He likes to climb up on his slide and check that we are watching and then go down on his tummy. Afterwards he stands up, sticks his belly out and waddles around with his grumpy face and grunts till we laugh. Then he laughs. It is all just awesome. My favorite is when he holds his hands behind his back and strolls around the house all casual like an old man. I have no clue where he picked that up.

Our new bedtime schedule has been working for a bit and is now a two part pass off operation. I brush kids teeth and Dad sings him a song and tucks him in. Voila. Goodnite. Some nights we hear singing or giggling as he lays in bed, but at least he now stays in bed and has a nap/night balance that actually works and is predictable. Not very many mornings where we find him behind the door with 78 blankets like a nest.

Last night was the best. We got him all ready for bedtime and he was saying ni-night to me with a little group hug. And as usual he shyed away from a smooch like a punk, just to be funny. So I kissed Daddy. Aidan smiled a very mischievous grin and with both hands, one on each parents nape of neck, he pushed our faces together to make us smooch again! And laughed! He thought this was so fun he tried to do it over and over. It made him not want to smooch us at all but was sooooo cute. I enjoy these sweet lovey moments ( to the point of tearing up and wanting to document them asap) because Aidan is not a particularly affectionate kid. He hugs by throwing an arm around your leg while you're cooking or something. Or climbs up to sit by you on the couch. But not a huge demand to be picked up or cuddled. In fact quite the opposite. He often tries to wriggle free or turn a hug into a wrestling match. That is just how he is made. I like it. I would rather this than have the needy whiny clingy boy. I am not that kind of mom. Which brings me to my next question/thought. I often wonder, was he just this way by nature? Or did I nurture him into an independent non-hugger? Probably some of both I guess.

The Mom and Dad smooch puppets happened again today when sissy came over. I like this new trick. Shows his sweet side. Unless he is just reeeeaalllly enjoying being able to slam our heads together. :)

Five Card Stud or Texas Hold-em?

2012-02-07T10:44:00.003-08:00

Pretty sure more than half of my fondest memories have been at the poker table. Does that sound like a gambling problem? Not when you play for pretzels when you are 5, then chips of no real monetary value, and then points in a league of awesome people. It's all about the challenge and let's face it, the winning. Our family has always loved all kinds of poker. I have played it for quite a while but the crazed popularity of Texas Hold-em has finally taken hold of my Dad ( thanks to all the televised Wold Series stuff). He asks us to break out the table top and chips a lot now that we have him here with us ( which is so nice to have considering when I was a kid we used pennies). I taught my hubs how to play and he has gotten damn good, but they best pupil was my step kiddo. Awfully satisfying to watch her rake in a huge pot while smirking ear to ear with confidence at the age of 6 and 1/2 against all adults . She crushes now that she has my skills under her belt. When we had "girl time" back before little guy was born, she would beg to learn new games or new tricks to read her opponent better. I could picture her at final table someday next to Annie Duke and The Mouth. I am glad she and I have so much in common and that she has interest in cards. Makes a momma proud when she has friends over and wants to teach them ( not so proud when she wants to win any money they may have on them ).

Lately I have gotten back into the swing of meeting up with the old poker crew. The long baby hiatus didn't erase anything. It's just one of those things you have or you don't ( mainly it's luck and skill in equal parts. If you don't have any luck, stick to crazy 8's). I adore my poker friends for having the same love that I do for the table, and the laughter and the challange of beating 30 people to the win. It is my time away from the house and family all by myself ( in a group of people doing the exact same thing. Escaping for a few hours). Since the whole tournament is winning points in our league it makes it fun. No cut throat nonsense and cranky old geezers. Just fun. And beers. And good company. *sigh* I am really glad to have that particular group because they have known me for a looooong time. Years and years. They were around as my crutch every time I was stressed about work or my Dad or anything really. Just good times and no drama we couldn't laugh off. Makes me wish it was Thursday today.

The 9 yr old has been brainstorming the plans for her new room layout. What colors to use, what "goes" and "clashes", and what furnishings she thinks would be practical yet cool. I am letting her design these things herself because I think it should feel like her space. Not the space we told her she should like because we like it. She originally wanted to paint hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs on one accent wall ( part of what made me think of this chunk after tha last couple paragraphs. I know, strange segue). She ruled out that design based on how limited her color scheme would be. And then thinking about it decided she had had enough blue lately and was "so over blue" and "pink/purple was back in her life". Geeeeez. To be 9 with so many choices. So far she has landed on a layout of a loft bed with a reading lounge beneath it made of bean bags and pillows, more shelves for all her books, artwork in frames instead of full color on the walls and a fluffy pink area rug. Amazing taste I think. The catch is that she has to maintain a clean room to earn the makeover. And I do not mean shoved-under-the-bed-clean. I mean clean. By no stretch am I a neat freak. However, a lazy kid is a lazy kid. And in a messy room it just gets worse. Stifles the imagination too. She has agreed to keep her room clean but not actually met the requirements yet. So the room is waiting. Little does she know that most of what she has picked is already ordered. She just won't see a speck of it until it is earned. Making her work for it will make her appreciate it so much more.

So let's see, updates go like this:

Dad is doing better
you'll be able to find GlassCast in Made in Oregon stores soon
the boy is saying Mama all the time now
a group of us are doing the Shamrock Run
Seafood and Wine Fest is slated to be an awesome girls trip
new couch
new workshop
new beer brewing set up
the girl is deemed ready for T.A.G. finally! Yay for nerdy girls! Gotta teach her brains are hot.

Life is good.

A friendly reminder of what "the good the bad and the ugly" really means

2012-02-02T07:44:00.000-08:00

I would like to apologize. Let me be crystal clear though, so as not confuse you. If you stumbled upon this blog while searching for something else, I am sorry. This is a rant column of sorts. Where I pour into words these things I feel. If I am annoyed, or elated I blog. If I am excited, terrified, or confused. I write how I feel. I write my opinion of my life. If you are offended it is your right to look away, turn the page, and not come back. I invite you to exercise this right of yours. This is not being read aloud to you at gun point. Avert your eyes.

There are so many things that happen every day that are so un-blog-worthy. I do sift through the nonsense and write when the mood strikes me. Mostly when I think things are funny. Even the annoying can be funny. The best way to deal with the things you cannot change is to laugh and move forward. So here we are. Where I do that.

Some real life shit is not so funny. Like the pretty major cancer scare we had with Dad. Yesterday we got the results back and he is in fact, still all clear. We are still almost 6 years cancer free! Yayy! He still has a collapsed lung. What's that? You don't remember me saying he had that going on? Oh. Yeah. I didn't blog about it because it's real shit I didn't find funny. And I almost always write about the terrifying after the dust settles and I am done crying. And, I have found that those are the moments I need to lean on real people in person. My amazing friends carry me through my times of heartache. My blog is here when I am ok. I try to keep this space light.

My opinion is just that. And those that know me understand where I come from with those opinions. If you don't know me at all, this blog may confuse you. But the truth is that anyone can wander around the internet and find things that anger them. It's a personal choice to keep reading. If something I write gets under someones skin, then maybe they have more going on in their own head then they are willing to embrace. Like for instance, if I was reading about a perfect parent and all the things their incredible kids do correct and awesome, maybe it would drive me crazy because I know that isn't me. But it's something I would love to be better at.

Life is complicated. We all have things or people we have to interact with that we'd rather avoid. Just make the best of it all because if you can't shake it off and move forward, you just waste time dwelling. And that's usually done alone. Which is super boring and depressing.

Laugh, and move forward. In other words, get over it.

Story Books and Interesting Characters

2012-01-12T10:28:00.000-08:00

Yay for awesome finds!!

Board Books | Hullabaloo Stories | Custom Stories for Your Family

I am pretty excited about the possibilities here. I have been pondering a children's book for a long while. This would be a place I can order special ones for the boy with all my crazy story ideas.

I will of course keep you posted on the progress. They have some awesome ideas for photo books so baby will learn faces and names of loved ones you may not see often. Keeps everyone familiar to the little ones.

*sigh* I love great mommy finds like this.

And I also love Ed Warner. An amazing artist that has drawn my Aidan as his super kid alter ego Boogerman!! Here is his adorable image as only she can create. ( yep it's a she) Almost complete. This is the most recent sneak preview she sent me.

I will always promote good artists when I can :) So go check out her other fun projects and things you can buy here

http://www.etsy.com/people/edwarner

and here

http://www.jeshmind.com/

Ahhh a day of shameless plugs :) Now to go get crafty.

Soap Box ? Wash your mouth out after.

2012-01-03T18:59:00.000-08:00

Watching television is getting slightly depressing. Just observing what the majority of celebrity people call marriage. The old values have vanished. The example set nowadays makes me think they are treating wedded unity as they would high school dating. Their solemn vow is the equivalent of a cheesy promise ring. Going through boyfriends like tissues is one thing, but if you get married shouldn't it just mean more? I personally feel like it should be forever if you are willing to say yes to the dress. It's not prom people. Though I do see some that get divorced and then try college guys like they just ditched that high school flame that flickered out. I know, I know, I am not in their shoes blah blah blah. I personally think Hollywood treats marriage too lightly thus setting a poor example for our youth ( not to mention making cheaters feel justified for leaving their husbands, because let's face it, everyone is doing it). Which brings me to my next rant. Scandalous bitches .

Yep. You read it correctly.

OK, let's play a game. Everyone raise your hand. Now, if you have dated someone who cheated on you, put down your hand. Alright, if you have had your boyfriend led away by a girl who was more easy, put your hand down. Okay, if you had your husband leave you for someone else, put your hand down. And if you have had emotional or physical relationships or encounters with someone you even thought was involved with someone else, leave your hand up and make a fist. Now, punch your own face because you are a whore.

Sometimes Karma comes back around and does that for you though. There really are all kinds of consequences for being a trollop. The one that should make the most impact should be how it makes you, the hoochie, feel inside. Used, empty, less than important, secret, trashy.........my point is that you should have some kind of conscience that will kick in and make you feel something. Unfortunately, though there are woman who can just go through the day home-wrecking with a smile and not see anything wrong with it. Even worse, they may act completely validated. Until one day, a woman shows up unannounced on their doorstep. And deliver a very satisfying amount of hurt right back as though returning it to sender.

I guess if you are waltzing in and out of marriages, yours and others, you should look over your shoulder continuously. Because Karma may send you a visitor. And she'll probably be pissed.

At the end of the day, those that refuse to find inner happiness will never truly be happy with anyone or anything. It starts inside. Do not take your cues from what the media makes famous. What is great for magazine sales and TV ratings is not at all great in the real world. Sad truth of people we idolize.

Married alarming numbers of times

Brigham Young, Mormon leader, married 19 times.
Prophet Muhammad, married 12 times, including to a nine year old.
Joseph Smith, Mormon founder, married at least 12 times.
Mickey Rooney, actor, married 9 times.
Bonnie Lee Bakely, murdered wife of Robert Blake, married at least 9 times.
Jennifer O'Neill, actress, married 9 times.
Zsa Zsa Gabor, occupation uncertain, married 8 times.
Elizabeth Taylor, actress, married 8 times.
Larry King, talk show host, married 7 times.
Stan Laurel, Laurel and Hardy, married 7 times.
Lana Turner, actress, married 7 times.

Married six times

Louis Armstrong, jazz musician, married 6 times.
Fred Berry, played ReRun on What's Happening, married 6 times.
Rex Harrison, actor, married 6 times.
Henry VIII, King of Britain, married 6 times.
Hedy Lamarr, actress and inventor, married 6 times.

Married five times

Tony Curtis, actor, married 5 times.
Clark Gable, actor, married 5 times.
Eva Gabor, actress, married 5 times.
Josephine Baker, actress and spy, married 5 times.
Idi Amin Dada, Ugandan dictator, married 5 times.
Geraldo Rivera, dumbshit reporter, married 5 times.
Boris Karloff, actor, married 5 times.
Larry Flynt, pornographer, married 5 times.
Henry Fonda, actor, married 5 times.
George Foreman, boxer, married 5 times.
Rita Hayworth, actress, married 5 times, including to Orson Welles.
Dennis Hopper, actor, married 5 times, once for just eight days.
John Huston, director, married 5 times.
Jerry Lee Lewis, singer, married 5 times, including his 13 year old cousin.
Richard Pryor, comedian, married 5 times.
Ginger Rogers, actress, 5 times.
Kenny Rogers, country musician, married 5 times.
George C. Scott, actor, married 5 times.
Billy Bob Thornton, married 5 times.
Tammy Wynette, singer Stand By Your Man, married 5 times.

Married four times

Brigette Bardot, actress, married 4 times.
James Brown, Hardest Working Man in Show Business, married 4 times.
Glen Campbell, singer, married 4 times.
Doris Day, actress, the only virgin that's been married four times.
Al Goldstein, pornographer, married 4 times.
Ernest Hemingway, author, married 4 times.
Lorenzo Lamas, actor, married 4 times.
Peggy Lee, singer, married 4 times.
Elizabeth Montgomery, actress, married 4 times.
Liza Minnelli, married 4 times.
Jason Robards, actor, married 4 times.
Frank Sinatra, Chairman of the Board, married 4 times.
Barbara Walters, interviewer, married 4 times.
Jane Wyman, actress, married 4 times including to Ronald Reagan.

Married thrice

Charles Bronson, married 3 times.
Errol Flynn, actor, married 3 times.
Ray Kroc, married 3 times.
Rush Limbaugh, moralist, married 3 times.
Gary Leon Ridgway, the Green River Killer, married 3 times.
Marilyn Monroe, actress, married 3 times.
Tiny Tim, ukelele player, married 3 times.

I am not even going to bother listing the harlots. We all know Angelina is the worst. And it's sad that some still want to be just like her. Face it ya'll, this aint the days of Hackers or even Pushing Tin.

Uggh. Just grossed out lately with it all. Sorry for the earful. Well, not really.

Cellular Friends

2011-12-29T07:41:00.001-08:00

I have caved in to the world of the iphone. Which is huge since I truly believed that it was a snobby/ hipster thing. It is, but that's really only half the iphone population. The other half consists of people like me. The cool moms and dads ( shutup, I am still hella cool) who noticed a new model of phone came out that was awesome and also a really great deal, at the very convenient time of upgrade eligibility with our service provider. Thus granting me iphone privileges. I became hooked on the idea when I played a game on my sisters phone to the point of almost being annoyed that she wanted to take it with her when she went home. I mean, seriously, I was two seconds from leveling up. Sheesh. So I guess it's very true that I got mine for the games. Wouldn't really surprise anyone that knows me. I am a dork when it comes to loving video games with reckless abandon. I was tossed into the cell phone equivalent of a green tube porthole that takes you into a more challenging underground level, which I was excited about because I kick ass at dodging Piranha Plants. When I started playing certain games I noticed the amount of people I know that are geeky. It's incredible how many wordy nerdy folks I can now play against. The best part is that these are pick-up-where-you-leave-off type games that I can play throughout the day when I am in a moment of quiet ( ha!) or when OPB is becoming my personal alphabet repetition hell. I am currently battling 7 people and crushing some with words like POOH for 45 points!! I got my husband hooked too, which is funny at bedtime when we look exactly like the poster couple of our generation. Not reading in bed like the good ol days, but gaming each other only inches apart. Oh technology.

Christmas brought some toddler tech toys for the boy. He is a nerd in training for sure. His new love is his baby mp3 boombox, which is AMAZING. This has the mp3 download ability of an ipod but a shape that is little guy friendly and to ice the cake, a hold button that locks the front navigating side of the device so he cant advance or rewind or crank the volume to 27262555 by himself. Forces him to listen to The Band Perry all the way through and swoon at his girlfriend crooning to him. I am not ashamed of plugging products that have earned it ( just as I freely bash the shittastic ones I find stupid).

I am including his awesome list of tiny tot tech stuff so you can get a feel for how I spoil the boy. You know why I do it? Because I can. And because I have one chance with the one boy I will ever have. And because I thought of getting some really extravagant stuff and did not. It is also no secret that I find screaming deals on everything I buy. I mean everything. I pretty much refuse to pay full price.

Discovery Kids Boombox mp3 player

Leapfrog Chat and Count Phone

Fisher Price Apptivity case for iphone

The last item pictured is an awesome find for any little kid obsessed with your iphone ( I have not ruled out other smart phones fitting into this yet). It does look a bit baby-ish but the important part for me is the special panel on the bottom that blocks the home key. Major selling point for me. Doesn't hurt that a few free learning Apps are included. The spoiling doesn't stop there. My sister happens to have a fully functional, now prehistoric, iphone that she is gladly donating to the cause. This will give an 18 month old an iphone. *sigh* oh well. It is recycling. Sort of.

On to juicer catch-up material. I figure while the boy is dancing to his downloaded Gym Class Heroes tunes I will cover all the bases. My dear 9 yr old is so full of questions lately. A mini soul searcher. She is so observant that it actually helps me out tons. I have to shed very little light on any of the garbage Voldemort stirs up. For instance, she brought up how nice it is that her mom is a copycat. To which I had to really try hard not to belly laugh out loud about. Apparently the lucky kid gets a full on "big girl" room makeover. She sat eating her holiday snacks in a snuggly new robe and told me all about how nice it's going to be. And also how funny she finds it when her mom has to keep up with us over here. Another example of how using competitive jealousy to my advantage is an awesome tool. Directly benefits the kiddo. The fact that she sees it can be a double edged sword. So we had a very crucial talk about not using that knowledge for evil. Or, she'll be grounded forever. No evil mastermind yet please.

A round of Thank Yous are in order. To all my loved ones who have been so over the moon great at passing along word of my new business. I have tried to shower ya'll with gifts to show my gratitude and I am sure I wont be able to quit doing that. Mainly because I keep needing to make new and exciting creations and they have been calling a few specific names lately. I guess it's safe to just say my friends are my inspiration. Keeps me motivated with all the love I have gotten. The people I keep close are there for a reason and I finally have a small way of saying how much that means to me. I will now attempt to list some specific thanks recipients in a big bloggity group hug: Laura, Dawn, Shalini, Tiff, Amy,Asha, Sarah, Hal, Kelly,Leslie, April, Matt, John, Shani, Cricket, Bonz, Amanda x2, Lois, Erin, Mary, Melissa, Jenn, Kate, Korina, Nick, Beth, Maleah, Alex, Jordan, Darla, Krissy, Katy, Alishia, Hilary, Trish and Kyle.

Wheew. You all know why I appreciate you. Just putting it out there in words.

Growing up

2011-12-08T07:25:00.000-08:00

Aside from the seasonal hubbub( gift shopping, food shopping, all done from right here in this cozy spot by the fireplace) and the stress that comes with feeling ill prepared no matter how prepared I actually am, this fall/winter has been complex to say it nicely. Knowing I can't just leave it at that, I will keep writing. Let's just say I have been looking into giving some self help books as gifts this year for a few hopeless idiots I am forced to "get along with" (which we all know just means I bite my tongue and blog when needed). Found some awesomely appropriate titles, and you can probably read between the lines here even if those could-be recipients probably can't:

Sometimes I Act Crazy: Living with Borderline Personality Disorder

twentysomething: Surviving and Thriving in the Real World

The Complete Geezer Guidebook: Everything You Need to Know About Being Old and Grumpy!

"Does Wednesday Mean Mom's House or Dad's" Parenting Together While Living Apart

That actually sums up lifes little package of stress these days really. Dealing with a couple people who wont grow up and on the flip side, one old man who is confused about growing old, and one little man who is outgrowing quite a lot all at once. I guess I will start with the frustration part and end on a good note. I feel like we all know at least one person in our lives that we grind our teeth about because we would never choose to be associated with them. Their values ( or lack thereof) are so wildly different than ours that we feel like they never "get it" when real life is happening all around them. I have two at the moment. Wish I could avoid them at all cost because they make my head hurt with their sheer lack of "getting it". One has the ability to change and evolve and grow, and that would be a relief to see. The other is hopeless and closed minded and self righteous to the point of stake burning. Because there really isn't any other cure for the rest of us. Face it, sometimes they just can't be fixed.

The good stuff? Okay. So Aidan has outgrown his crib and after two nights of sleeping on the floor ( I don't even know. He can get in and out of bed with ease so it's by choice that he builds a blanket nest and crashes) he is sleeping in his new race car bed. Pretty sweet. He is getting into books so much that I had to get him more for Christmas. Like several. Yeah, more books than toys if I am gonna be honest.

Now, for some ups and downs before I go make breakfast for Father Time and Mini Man.

Upside: Dad is dealing with his occasional memory issues better.
Downside: He is using it to his advantage by just saying he forgot. For everything.

Upside: Aidan is staying away from the Christmas tree for the most part.
Downside: That's because he is still dead set on reprogramming the DVD player and satellite TV receiver.

Upside: My allergies are not going bananas so far.
Downside: They don't have a chance with the cold my stepkid keeps bringing over.

Downside: In my opinion, Voldemort is throwing irrational fits and being all reactionary-vengeful.
Upside: In my opinion, her diet has got her so thin in a few places that she looks to have an adams apple, which is a whole new level of hilarious.

* Common deffinition of a starvation diet when googled: Any diet limiting daily caloric intake below 1200 not prescribed by a doctor, for any extended period of time.

A person following any type of starvation diet can be left weak, dizzy, and undernourished. This type of dieting can lead to more severe starvation diets like Anorexia Nervosa and Bulimia Nervosa. When the body reaches starvation mode complications occur such as:

Electrolyte imbalances causing dehydration, muscle spasms, and in severe cases cardiac arrest
Hypokalemia (potassium deficiency) & Chronic Hypokalemia
Depression, anxiety, irritability, and anger

** For the record. I do not stand corrected. I am being somewhat polite.

Awwwww life is awesome though. Happy Holidays!!!

turns out you can love something too much

2011-11-12T08:22:00.000-08:00

Our whole house has been super gross sick with a cough and nasal cold medley of mucus sounds. Sounds like the happenin place to be I know. Everyone from my sister and myself to the baby were ill ( we are still ill. I am just choosing to think we are on the mend in hopes the worst is over). Amazingly, the old man downstairs is not sick. For once he is immune. This may be the result of about 85 various antibiotics that he has had intravenously and orally over the last month to prevent infection of his old wounded body. That man is a whole separate blog of medical miracles lately. I might post a summary and some photos if I can get past how graphic they are. Pretty gross and completely interesting to any science nerds like me. Anyhow, he is surviving the plague at our place like a superhero. The rest of us look like the cast of The Walking Dead ( which is on tonight and I am sooooooooooooooo looking forward to it) grunting around, dragging our bodies to and fro. Good times. My snotty puffy eyed toddler is remarkable sweet and snuggly when under the weather and I most definitely made the best of feeling like garbage by keeping pajama man wrapped in my arms. He also made a wonderful heater.

The really sad part of this story is lame and I am well aware of it. Deep down I know you can relate. Even if you don't admit it out loud. I would like to take a moment to express my love for a specific type of pajama pant. The soft, almost T-shirt jersey material that is baggy and swooshy. Drawstring and big enough to laze around in, never getting a wedgie. Well, today I mourn the loss of a pair that lasted far beyond life expectancy. Dearest blue stripped pants, old friend how you will be missed. In an awkward turn of events, my trusty favorites had given up and split clear down the ass seam. And I would never have known had my kid not pants me accidentally when attempting to climb me to get to a cup of milk I was making him ( because apparently he is starving at 30 plus pounds of pudge). I stood in shock looking at the sad seat of pant. Wondering if Target even still carried the same style ( by that I mean the EXACT same pants. Because I have grown accustom to the pockets and no others will do). I know what you must be thinking, "what a fat ass to split her pants". I thought it too. But having never split the ass of pants even when a big giant pregnant lady, I don't think it's my size ( not to downplay my round behind which happens to be one of my good features) but rather the age of the poor cotton fabric. I also pondered the hilarity that would have ensued had this taken place unbeknownst to me yesterday, when Dad had nurses here. And yes, sometimes I greet them in my jammies when they arrive at 8:30am. That would have been classic Shannon right there. So I guess I can be thankful for one day past possible humiliation for the death of the best casual pants ever.

In other news, my jewelry business is really booming. My sis and I created GlassCast for our inventions and we sell them here---> www.etsy.com/shop/GlassCast And you can follow us here ------>www.facebook.com/GlassCast

Super excited about a few holiday craft venues coming up including Every Husbands Nightmare Bazaar at the Washington County Fairgrounds November 15th-20th. I hear they have amazing gifty food vendors there too! We are glad to be a part of the local craft community. Wish us lots of luck or better yet come see our jewelry and pick up some stocking stuffers for yourself or loved ones. :)

I figure sharing my embarrASSing story allows me a shameless product plug. Hope ya'll have an awesome Turkey day, just in case life gets busy and I miss blogging here. I will try my best to part with a few recipes on my food page for festivities sake.

my friends double as therapists

2011-10-08T18:35:00.000-07:00

A wise gal recently made me see my situation in a better light. One in which, I totally hadn't realized, I am awesome!! Which, of course is how I like to be. I was getting a bit annoyed that a certain somebody keeps trying to out-do me. In my opinion, if someone does something well, and you are jealous, the way to really show them up probably isn't to make a showy attempt at the same thing they already excel at. Pretty much only accomplishing looking stupid and being annoying. It is however hilarious to watch that person flail around trying new things they suck at. I know, I am a jerk. Oh well. Anyhow my level headed pal pointed out that some of this copycat shit isn't so bad. Because even if their heart isn't in the right place, at least they look like a good person for a little bit. Like volunteer work for instance. At the end of the day, if competing to "keep up with the Felti" is making this person serve the community like I do, then great!! I just made a super negative person do something positive. Excellent reverse psychology idea. Well, in a "stop hitting yourself" kind of way.

I only have a few more minutes till dinner ( I really love when my spouse cooks and lets me have a few moments to tune out Yo Gabba Gabba the best I can and try to blog) so I will list some good and stupid events from this week.

Awesome:
* Just heard soccer is over for Hal in a few days. I am soo over it.
* tricked Aidans bedtime clock and he is sleeping till 7 or so!!! wahhoooooo
* Hubby has brewed two new batches of beer and still planning on more.
* gonna be an angry bird for Halloween with my girls. ( made a little yellow angry baby bird costume too)
* I decided to go back to bitching on my blog. It was more entertaining this way.
* Sold a few pieces from the new jewelry line Bonz and I started
* the article I just read about diet pills being linked to bi-polar like behavior. Come on starving women, didn't anyone ever tell you it's good to be round? :) I thank my son for my new curves instead of resenting him for it.
* big huge HD TV for our anniversary
* going to see our friends in concert again soon this time sans kid
* pumpkin patch time!!!!!!!!!!!!
*my sis moved back to north Portland which means whenever we go that direction I can have Thai food from my very favorite restaurant ( if you do not like at least one item on a Thai menu, there is something seriously wrong with you)
* Honey Crisp apple season!!!!

Stupid:
* the neighbors are throwing another quinceanera and clogging up all the driveways on our cul de sac.
* the amount of vampire nonsense rising again due to Halloween season. Newsflash, Edward will still never love you!
* when we upgraded our satellite TV to HD we lost all our DVR programs :(
* not going to Vegas for our anniversary
* not seeing our friends play in Vegas
* Dad somehow programed his medical device he is attached to 24/7 to German! Cannot wait to trouble shoot that one tonight.

I really love when the good outweighs the bad.

twilight zone?

2011-09-29T07:51:00.000-07:00

Have I died and gone to heaven? Am I dreaming? Is this a parallel universe where all the things I bitch an complain about actually fall in line the way they should? Or, by some crazy miracle of karma ( probably from being good and not punishing Voldemort the way I'd like to.....grumble grumble...stupid bitch) did my entire household actually allow me to sleep until naturally waking at 7:30? What a gift I tell ya. And, not to push my luck by typing it, the baby is still sleeping, Dad is snoozing comfortably, both having also slept through the night without needs or wants that normally cause me to do zombie walk to their aid. Usually at the most ungodly hours. Even the dogs were polite. Did I win an award or something? Is it the Rapture today and this is just God being nice to me out of pity? I cannot stop smiling.

I hear the coffee loudly finishing the brewing process and now I hear a giggle/growl/coo from Aidan. Much better morning than I have had in months. Maybe the key to it all is the amazing bath I took for the first time in a year. I need to soak like that more. With a home brewed beer in one hand and a book in another. That too was amazing. Though it makes me want to remodel like nobody's business ( I don't know many grown women without anorexia that can squeeze their ass into a regular sized tub for a long soak without feeling obese). Jacuzzi tub? Yes please. But then I would be squeaky clean, well read, and nothing else would ever get done.

Anyhow, today is starting out awesome!!! Hope yours is too. Better go rescue the weird-o singing in the crib.

press play >

2011-09-23T10:35:00.000-07:00

I feel like I am on hold today. Probably because I have been asked to "please hold" about 37,006 times. I know, it's only 10:40! That's a waste of a good cup of coffee for sure. But it's ok, I had a cannoli with my java today just to balance life a bit. I am playing phone tag with a few doctors and a handful of nurses trying to get a direct answer out of someone. Steep expectations I am slowly realizing as I listen to a musac rendition of a Journey song I shouldn't be humming to. I should be fuming by now. But I am not. I am used to this by now. Dad is in the hospital recovering from surgery which is a long healing process for him ( a whole back story too long and boring for ya'll so I will give you enough to understand: Dad has a junky, after cancer immune system, blood clotting issues, heart problems, and he's 30 seconds and a Splenda away from diabetes). My job is to make sure he doesn't say he is fine and then come home with complaints of pain and whatnot. So here I am. With Journey. Actually now it is Ace of Base. :) Baby is back in bed and the sun is shinning through the changing fall leaves. Life is pretty great. I just feel like I am paused in a holding pattern and forget to breathe when Dad has health stuff. I want to press play and chug along at our households normal pace.

I do have some time here and there for reflecting while I zone out on hold. Time to think of all the good things in my life right now. My friends that are persistent, comical and real. Calling me to check in and tell me how their world is bonkers too. Crazily, a couple awesome ladies have landed in my rowboat with eerily similar family stories which is comforting and amazing. They have been incredible keystones to my not freaking out lately. Nice to see some parallels in other grown ups that get it. Helps me take things in stride an not lose myself as much as I used to.

The kids have been changing lately. Hal is 9 now, which is an age of pre-tween character flaws mixed with a dose of child naivety and a dash of sass I wish I could block her from absorbing from annoying influence. Aidan is full on terrible and not near 2. I think that old crap of terrible twos is a super stupid saying. I think strong willed smart babied with no words are pissed at the communication barrier and get hostile. Thus, he is Hulk right now. Watching them grow up is cool but it does seem to fly by. All those sayings are true about time flying. Even if we're not having fun. Days zoom.

Now I think I will plan a light lunch and call some of my girls to chat. Then maybe finish crafting gifts for two of my sweetest friends that each just had baby girls! Congrats to Shani and Weesh (and their hubs of course, but they pushed the babies out so mainly to them for that hard work). <3

I also just heard Kelly chuckle as he monitors the beer he is brewing. Good times.

I am tired of holding. I think I will call back later.

sweet little

2011-09-10T09:59:00.000-07:00

Sour patch kid. That's my boy. We've called him that for a while and he keeps wearing the title proudly. Baby school time is no exception. The first week went very well. He has accomplished many things in a short time. Winning over his teachers, becoming class clown, and causing a ruckus with a cherub grin. Picture day was Friday ( a riot to imagine five tiny people being simultaneously seated and smiling). This was a day Aidan is normally not in class so we came for an hour, just to get his picture taken solo and with the class. After countless attempts to tackle, trick or beg, the photographer had nearly given up on him sitting calmly next to prob blocks. Three animal crackers and a few scowls later we may end up with a snarky smirk photo of a tiny jerk laying on his back. Awesome. And it gets better. Of course. The group shot was in his classroom and I thought this was the way to get him to park it. I guess the influence of well behaved kids angelically groomed and arranged in a row was not a cue for him to follow their lead. He had to be held by a teacher and given a drum to even get him in one spot for two minutes. And that shot will also no doubt be something we frame and shake our head at. The next few years of pre-school photos will hopefully be more civilized. But we will have a fun comparison to show him when he is older. I can't say much because I really did not expect any miracle shy of total possession by the ghost of manners past to get him cross sit. I do however reward him for not crying, whining or throwing tantrums. Keeping that out of his routine is major for me. So if he wants to be a silly lunatic and make grown ups laugh, go crazy kid.

Then, out of nowhere ( ok, probably out of me hammering this manners crap into his vocab every minute I can) he reaches for his waffle I am handling him and says "Pease" clear as a bell. I ran out the back door and told Kelly all about it as he watered the yard half awake. Probably scared the shit out of him while he daydreamed of breakfast and coffee. Totally worth it.

Sour patch kid for sure. Sour and then sweet.

I will post the pics from school when I get them. Aught to be a riot. :)

something new

2011-09-02T12:08:00.000-07:00

Well here I sit with a mixture of feelings as little guy naps. I am taking him for his first day at preschool/daycare in t-minus 2 hours. I am feeling as though a glorious gift of that precious block of hours will help me catch up with grown up life in general. Like housework, maybe coffee with a friend or two I have been missing, and a serious nap with a good book now and then. Get my brains back where I need them. Plus, this is muy importante because Aidan is lagging with words ( in my opinion he is lazy and we know what he wants. life is easy breezy for him). So I think tossing him in with some little talkers and a teacher who has no clue what his cues are, will force him to get with the program. At least make him need to say the basics. I know he can, he just doesn't have to here. Super annoying. He repeated "naked" back to me when I found him just that way in his crib singing to himself, so I know he has the ability.

My naughty prince can terrorize someone else a couple days a week. Let the phone calls begin. That leads me to my other thoughts about this plan. I worry that the other kids won't be able to nap because Aidan is singing to the nap music too loudly. Or that he plows over everyone to get to food that isn't his. Part of why I waited really, I was concerned he would smash the little kiddos in the baby room. I don't know why I assume that walking would make him less strong or rather, other kids less wimpy and more able to predict his actions. But apparently being a full on walker was the thing I set as daycare readiness. I am really hoping there is a tougher kid in there that he can either pal with or get thumped on by. That probably makes me a mean mommy but I don't care.

On the upside ( so far *knock on wood*) my kid isn't the biter, or the thrower, or the whiner (for the most part). I guess there is that. This aught to be an interesting visit today. I don't worry if he can handle it, I wonder if they can handle him. I am sure some funny will ensue, and of course I will update.

P.s. I am REALLY hoping he finds his penis less interesting at daycare. Or life will be embarrassing for the kid with the duct taped diaper.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Update:

The first day went awesome. The boy seemed like he could care less that I left the room. He played with toys as though he were at home and comfortable. And even ate a snack like a civilized little man at a tiny table with four new friends. Didn't even thieve animal crackers from anyone!! I was shocked. And pleased. But mostly shocked. I watched him adventure around knew at once that he will do just fine there. Next week will be a whole new back to school experience. And Mommy will have some time to make the house a stylish home finally! Lot's to do and now some actual time to dedicate to it all! Yahooooo!!!

Here is proof of his awesome behavior. And yes, I know it may differ next Tuesday and he may have a total out of body when I leave. One day at a time. :)
Thank you sweet boy, for making this all a little easier on Mommy <3

To every season turn turn turn

2011-08-27T08:34:00.000-07:00

I am looking forward to Fall this year. I love the leaves changing and the seasonal fruits and squash and apple cider and sweaters.......I could go on and on. Plus I really love back to school, and planning for Halloween. A few crisp mornings is all it takes to make me wish it was here already. I was having a conversation yesterday about how I love Autumn and Spring and that Summer is fine, but our Winters here are annoying. It is a few months of cold sideways rain, sometimes mixed with snow, and then throw in a handful of storm warning or "arctic blasts" depending on the year or El Nino or whatever. Pretty stressful and not fun. No three foot snowstorms with sledding potential unless you live outside of the metro area a ways. So our school districts have a nervous trigger finger about cancellations thus making them look bi-polar. Really doesn't help the weather teams on the news look reliable. So it is safe to say Winter is lame and only the Holiday season makes it worth a damn.

My point is Fall is sneaking up on me and I am glad. The garden is starting to wither in places and the crop harvest is lessening. This year was apparently a test of how crappy our soil quality was because we had a poor turn out on most veggies. Next year I rip up the yard and go all fertilizer/compost crazy in all areas. For the most part, my yard plans took shape and transformed parts of our landscape. Like a pond in the front yard with a waterfall and turtle habitat. Roses and Hosta and ferns where I wanted them. And also the raised planters for Hals garden and some of our mini farm ( the only crops that really went crazy productive). The outdoor home renovations are done for this year. Next we will tear up yucky lawn and terrace part of the back yard and beautify. I thin it is time to turn my focus back indoors to the living room. Aidan is in the destructive and/or climbing/conquering phase. This has caused somewhat of an overhaul every time he masters some defenseless piece of furniture and makes into an area he shouldn't be. I have a sad feeling that this will put my redecorating plans on a back burner for a while as far as this room in concerned. So, I think I will plan the girls room. And also maybe redefine my bathroom, which is tiny and overlooked, and could use a shelf or something. Time for some HGTV me thinks.

I refuse to allow the change of season to pass me by again without nature walking with my cameras. The last few years I have been disappointed that I let all that color get away.

Leafs be with you :)

You grow Girl

2011-08-22T08:37:00.000-07:00

I haven't really written about my girl in a while. Mainly because this summer has been kinda wonky and her mom/dad scheduled has me on my toes trying to balance fun and relaxation for the poor kid. I think a "normal" family has downtime after the go-go-go trips and activities. So we try to do that too. But then we run the risk of being the house she is bored at. It's crazy and I never thought I'd be looking forward to the back and forth trade off pattern of school time parenting. Much simpler and less room for annoyance. Don't get me wrong, the beach trips and the farmers market and zoo camp have all been awesome. But I am ready for cooler weather, fall clothes ( not having to deal with inappropriately short shorts which make me the bad guy because they are out of the question. I don't care if they were expensive and cute) and honestly, Hal's birthday. She is turning 9 and I am super excited. I have been sooooooooooo good at keeping a few things secret and hidden, and I bought them months ago!! This is a major accomplishment because I ruin surprises and give gifts wayyyyyyyy in advance if I have them in my hot little hand. One of these things is especially super crazy awesome amazing. I was worried it may be babyish for her age but was pleasantly surprised and relieved when I began setting it up and programing apps. The range for learning games and trivia and writing programs is amazing! I can give this product two solid thumbs up so far and will update the review when I have her opinion as well.

I had originally scoffed at this item I will admit. Because the article I read had it geared to a toddler more or less. And I pictured giving Aidan a n expensive gift and laughed my ass off. Like giving the Hulk fine china to play with is what I pictured. But the more I read the more it became clear that this is a very cool learning toy that will last Hal a year or two, and then it will be for Aidan a little after that. And when that made it worth the hundred dollar price tag, I pre-ordered it like a nerd and patiently ( yeah right ) watched for the Fed Ex truck. Anyhow, I am posting a link so you can read about it for yourself. Like I said, I give it an A for awesome so far. And the games range all the way up to 6th grade levels for math and reading. I do wish they would pitch it to the older end of the age range too though, because the sites I have seen are really amping up the early ed side of things. Great and all, but it is a toy/tool that grows with the kids learning and they should stress that aspect more in my opinion. Check it out!

LeapFrog LeapPad Explorer

I am also thrilled that she and I are going school shopping soon. We did a fun project to hone in her style for the year. Mainly so I would get the idea right when I do a little online bargain shopping. But also so she could see her vision on paper. She has cut out key pieces and paired up outfit options almost like a paper doll selection. Next we are making a poster for her door so she can get ideas through the school year and add to it. I may have a clothing designer or stylist on my hands. Impressive eye she has already for what is a good looking trend and what fad is just wrong. Pretty entertaining. Like I have told her a million times over the last few years, I don't care what she wears to school as long as it's appropriately covering her and it's right for the weather that day. If she is happy and comfortable, more power to her. I don't care if she wants to rock a tutu, four shirts and mismatched socks with rain boots. Go crazy. It's how she'll find her own style and be comfortable in her own skin as herself. Less likely to be a sheep that is steered by peer pressure and popularity too. Be a trend setter girl!!

The good the bad and the ugly

2011-08-06T08:55:00.000-07:00

As some version of grown up person, I am finding that my logic isn't that terrible. My ideas about personality have held rather strong considering I formed some pretty solid opinions at a young age. Like, for instance, I feel like when you grow older, you become a more intensified version of who you really are inside. Or I guess it just matters less and less what others may think and more how you feel in your own skin. Makes it easier to breathe and live without burden of pretending. Insecurities slough away and reality sets in. Cruel or awesome as it may be. For most. I say that because not everyone grows up and not everyone stops pretending. I am discovering, or rather re-discovering, that there are two types of people I have weeded out of my life for the most part naturally. Two main types that annoy the shit out of me. And I hate to see when all else fades, this may really be who some folks really are.

The first is the "They don't mean ME when they say that" type of person. This kind will never get it through their head that they may be offensive or rude or anything shy of perfection. They may even join a conversation about a topic that others may hope they learn from, because it would make he/she less socially retarded. But no. Because no one meant THEM. Even when a brave soul actually pin points something that has been bothering them and has a heart to heart about it, this type of person usually just feels annoyed and takes no ownership of wrong doing.

The second type is the "OMG everything is always about ME" person. This may be worse than the first. All topics of conversation in group setting get redirected back to this individual sometimes in super obscure ways without any kind of organic segues. This type is also often paranoid that others are plotting against them and anything said may have possible negative meaning about them. Narcissistic to the point of psychosis. This has got to be exhausting really, to sit around, probably even solo, and worry about all that.

I read a very very eye opening article about adults ( mainly ladies) who hang onto friendships long past their expiration dates. And how the length of time you know someone doesn't really mean it is a quality relationship. Often it's harder to consider breaking ties with a friend that has evolved into a toxic part of your life than it is to break up with a stupid or careless boyfriend. Sometimes when we grow up and even grow apart, hanging onto the past is just that. And if you take down a list of the good and the bad from way back when and another set of lists for the current day friendship, they would differ vastly. It is healthy to take inventory of friends and invest love and time into the relationships that are give and take, loving, and fit with your life now. This article has caused a personal reflection and assessment of who I hold dear. I learned that I do some kind of spring cleaning from time to time and just exfoliate some of the deadbeats out of my life. Without dramatic effect and probably without much notice because I just bow out gracefully. There are however a couple people in my life that I can no longer go through the motions of association with. As sad as it may be, I need to bury the basket of good times because looking back, it is starting to overflow with total superficial bullshit. Toss a rose on that and call it the past. It only makes me feel wrong to pretend we are close. Really, it is wasting time I could be spending with people who really enjoy my company and I theirs, by beating this dead horse we call a friendship. And really, if I am annoyed and rolling my eyes re-hashing the time spent with someone, I should not have been there at all.

For the record, I do not claim to be perfect. And I am pretty aware of my flaws. I just know I am neither of these. After addressing some issues recently with no solution, this all hit home at once. Amazing what a catalyst one article can be.

All that said, I do have amazing people in my life that are a constant permanence if I have any luck at all. Those are the folks I should share my time, love and family with because you should get what you give. And give what you get. And after a brief head count, to say that I have to pull a couple people out of the group I have, is ok. I will be just fine. If not much much better off.

Like my sis misquoted the other night: "Champagne for my real friends and real pain for my sham friends"

Head to toe

2011-08-05T22:19:00.000-07:00

So I have been in cahoots with a friend planning another friends birthday party. I LOVE LOVE party planning. The themed kind, the fancy kind, the garden with strings of twinkly lights and music kind......I could go on and on. *sigh* Puts me in an awesome mood to even be a part of putting together something fun and festive. And to top it off, this is an 80's themed party based off the movie Heathers. I am super excited to put it lightly. Croquet and awesome throwback preppy get-ups are just the beginning. I actually ordered a serious prop head to put on the croquet play field to look just like the scene with Winona Riders character! No shiz! I really got one ( it's amazing how much the face looks like her too. It is one of those stylist practice heads from a beauty school type thing with real-ish hair! incredible ebaying. go me!) Well the thing came in the mail today and it didn't take very long for the head to start giving people the eeby geebies while it sat in a corner on a shelf. Like one of those heart attack inducing, catch it out of your peripheral vision type moments. Our family is a little pranky. Especially when given a pretty golden opportunity. I can't say I wouldn't have used it for evil first had I thought of it. Anyhow, my sister tucks the thing into my bed and adding a few pillows under the covers, scared the crap out of my husband. Completely creepy brilliant idea! So we decide to take it downstairs and tuck it into my brothers bed and get him too. Even though it took many hours of giggling like 6 yr olds while waiting for him to come home from work and stop dilly dallying talking to everyone and go into his damn room already! It was worth it. In my opinion ( and that of my abs, the laughter is the best workout) this crazy Winona head has already paid for itself with gags alone. And it will still be hilarious with it as an awesome party prop.

I am now considering all the endless possibilities for Winona.

I am really shocked at how fast this summer has flown by. It feels like there are only a few BBQs and Birthdays coming up and then BAM it's back to school time for kids and on to cooler rainy weather. It will be nice to get back into a more logical routine again. I am looking forward to having Aidan in daycare a couple days a week for some social busy time for him, and Mommy sanity organization (reassemble anything he may have destroyed) time for me. Also back to school means clothes for the girl which will be a blast this year. We have been coordinating her signature style by going through catalogs and creating her ideal outfits. I love that she has her own sense of what she likes and is really coming into her own and dressing with personality. I am pretty amazed at how much she has grown this last year. She is so tall!!! I love school shopping as much as she does I think.

In other news we took little man to the beach for his first real ocean/sand experience. The new adventure was nothing short of hilarious. He ate as much wet sand as he could get away with and tried to run out to sea. But after a long splash in the sea he dug his feet and toes into the warm sand by our towels, raking and shoveling and writhing around. He was not to thrilled to leave so it's safe to say he had a great time and totally adored the beach. Not really surprised since Kelly and I are both sun, sand and surf kinda people. It's in his blood. Little surfer more than likely.

Thus our word of the day:

50 grit - The result of consuming mass amounts of sand and fully passing it successfully.

turds and tattoos

2011-07-21T09:03:00.000-07:00

I am semi condensing two topics into in post because I have limited time lately and can't decide between the two. Let's see, start with the sentimental and end with the funny? Yes.

So, a long long time ago my sister drew a doodle that she thought was just silly scribbling on a scrap of receipt paper. When I saw this doodle I fell in love with it and thought it would make an amazingly unique tattoo design. Well, over the last several years she and I had a pretty deep feud which does not need to be public, but does set the tone for this story. While at odds, I had hemmed and hawed over this tattoo idea knowing deep down that I wanted her permission to use her drawing. So I never got it done and the idea faded. Until I found out that she was doing tattoo work. My idea came back with the seemingly impossible notion that it would be even better if she did the tattoo for me herself. As perfect as it sounded in my head, it was not a realistic option ( I did have a dream that she said yes while still mad at me and gave me a swastika tat instead of the design I wanted. Kinda funny now). This doodle was very special to me for about a zillion reasons that I probably can't even detail to the point. But the gist of it is that there are two doll-like faces peering out of twigs and blades of grass and it reminds me of a very small framed piece of art I was given as a gift when we were teeny tiny sisters. Super mushy sounding but deep down I can be pretty sentimental. This art gift was given to me when my lil sis was born by a french man who was an exchange student my Gram had when my aunts were all in high school. Bernard kept in touch all through the years as a family member of sorts and was an adoring uncle figure for me. I mean how awesome is it t have an uncle that lives in France and your Gram tells you stories of fields of lavender and wonderful foods where he lives? Very awesome. Anyhow, the doll like faces remind me of the faces of two little french girls holding hands and walking in a park in the framed picture. And Bernard had written in French and English on the reverse side " a sister is a friend forever". Ughhh. I am sickeningly sweet to put so much value on a doodle, very unlike me really. But it touched me, probably more because we recently buried the hatchet and it actually feels like there was never bad times. More like we missed out on years but things are back on track. So, the other day I explained ( partially, as not to sound stupid and sappy. Left out the sister/dollface/french part, and just said I loved it) that I wanted the tattoo, and how cool it would be if she did it. Well I am happy to say that I have a sore shoulder blade because I got my wish. I have my special ink now. Symbolic to say the least.

Ok, now on to poop. :) Can't be seriously sappy for too long or people will quit reading my posts. Aidan has become more of a jerk on the changing table than ever. He has always considered pants evil and resisted being dressed. The last month or so he has decided that diapers are nonsense also and he'll have no part in the idea of one. It's not the actual act of cleaning up his bottom that bugs him, he lays calmly talking to himself and usually I give him a plastic toy to keep him busy. He has actually started punching himself in the junk or pulling on it all, which just looks awful and not fun at all yet he smiles. Boys are ridiculous. Not the main point though sorry. He refuses to have a diaper put back on and I have to pin him while he cries real tears!! What the crap?!! Like he wants to kamikaze to the floor rather than have his butt covered. I do not get where it came from but it has to stop. I got a potty just in case it was a solution but no dice on that yet. I know it's jumping the gun, so don't even say it. I just want to be prepared with the tools for success when he decides he is ready. Because man oh man am I ready!! This diaper fight is stupid. I don't think he realizes it takes longer when he writhes like I am killing him and ends up with a thong. I just have to start over. Language skills would really come in handy about now but that's another story all together.

So, we plan to take wee man to an outdoor music festival coming up next month and I am super excited. Some friends will be playing and they've never met him. It's kinda cool because a couple of them have little ones of their own now. Not exactly the normal place to take a baby, but I figure my music festival days are numbered as he get's older and with his appreciation for music already, having some pictures with a band will be cool when he is a young man. Maybe inspiring for him.

Word of the day:

Diaper stones - Too many breads, not enough fruit.

Diaper sauce - Too much fruit, not enough bread.

Ahh yes, another two-fer. :)

we didn't start the fire

2011-07-05T16:41:00.000-07:00

Ah yes. It would not be a true family holiday without some kind of calamity. And lots of silly dance moves.

Our family decided to set off some fireworks at our home considering a few things. Our first 4th of July in the new house, not really wanting to drive anywhere with the crazies on the roads, and also that my Dad does not do very well with all the war-like noises going off all over the place. Being a war veteran and having very vivid memories makes this one holiday that he has mixed feelings for. But, he is a serious trooper and wanted us to light off sparkly fun for the kiddos so he could watch them ooooh and ahhh. He is a very involved Grandpa, so their joy often helps his mood. We gathered our chairs and the bag of kaboom and prepared for dark. At the last minute Dad decided it was too much and he'd watch out his window instead of out by the curb. All was going great. Hal was going over to him and asking how he liked the sparkler dancing or the crackling showery fireworks and so on to make sure he was included. He smiled and ooooooohhhhed from his perch until he decided to use his lighter as though he were at an outdoor concert. You know, gently sway with it lit to show appreciation for the show. Yeah. I noticed it and chuckled. Then we had more sparkler fun while taking slow speed photos for dramatic effect ( which turned out amazing). The bag of goodies became empty and family members said goodnight. As we headed indoors I noticed a strange odor and shrugged it off as sulfur grossness from all the local festivities. Checking on Dad revealed that the actual source of that smell was burnt hair. From his beard. He caught it with the lighter when he was being groovy. I left him trimming what was left of it into a more normal shape as I went up to inform my husband of this new information. We chuckled and decided we were just glad he didn't get hurt.

Later that evening I was editing those amazing sparkler pics I mentioned and found this.

I zoomed in and to my horror that is actually my father with his beard ablaze. Adam twirls around with a smile (little does he know what we'd see upon closer inspection). Like I said, Pops is perfectly fine. Shorter beard and a funky smell that lingered for a bit, but unharmed.

Maybe that just shows why that lighter sway is really meant only for outdoor concerts. Thanks for your enthusiastic participation though Daddio.

Word of the day:

Ancient Wisdom when you are an older person and learn a valuable lesson.

picky picky pedicure

2011-07-03T20:53:00.000-07:00

Since I spared my sister and decided not to post about the last hilarious conversation she and I had ( that brought me to tears laughing) I had to do today's diddy some justice. It is in fact the price you pay for being in my life. So, now that she is an active participant, let the good times roll. It's almost like new material for me really because the baby can only carry my hilarity so far these days with all his whining and fussing about teeth cutting through his fragile gums. Sheesh. I mean come on, you have three already you should be able to control you emotions little man! I kid. It looks terrifying. But it is barely fun to talk about let alone write about more than a couple times. The sister stories however are fresh and awesome. And when we add the 8 year old into the mix it is just plain golden.

We have been hanging out together on this fabulously (rare as it is) sunny weekend. Stuffing our bellies with barbequed greatness and crisp fresh veggie snacks on the hot patio. Soaking up the rays on lounge chairs watching clouds. Watching the bugs get stuck in the kiddy pool because I am stupid and put in the shade where it will never even be tepid enough to sit in. Summer memories being made for certain. My pre pre teen thinks my sister is a riot and my sister thinks the kid is entertaining and sassy. Bonding has taken place. So today I decided on a whim that it would be perfection to find a place for all three of us to get pedicures. Having only ever had a few myself, and hearing that not only had my sis only had one, but my kiddo had never, it was officially a must. I didn't regret my plan for one second. Not even when I cringed as Bonz told the ladies working there ( and all the whities getting nails done) how she envies Asians because they never age. And that us white people suck because we get all old and wrinkly before our time. I almost peed in my pants. It was a much longer conversation but I can't do it justice or act it out via blog. It just happens when she gets animated and/or serious about a topic or opinion. She could be preaching about buttered toast and have strangers holding their sides with laughter pains. Good times.

Watching the child get jostled around in the massage chairs for an hour as a woman politely engaged in broken English small talk was priceless. And surprisingly so was the cost of the whole relaxing event. Our girl outing will be happening more frequently. I feel bad for Bon though because she got screwed out of the heavy duty leg/foot massage that Hal and I received. She said her lady had " soft panda paws" while we were getting worked and smooshed.

The only un-relaxing part was a snobby lady that turned a socially comfy and chit-chatty salon into a silent awkward tomb. She blasted in with complaints of misshaped nails that had been done earlier that day. Apparently after a day with them on she decided she loathed everything about them and needed to come back to rip the owner a new one (and proceed to interrupt our calm with her attitude). When she stormed out with her repaired false claws, the place practically sighed happily. The small girl turns to me and says " I wish this was considered exercise and I could just do this every day instead". Totally made me smile to pamper her a bit and have some fun together. Especially because I know she appreciate these things. She commented later that she thought the rude lady should have been nicer to the salon lady. I love her manners. And I know where she adopted them. And it warms my heart that she understands how to behave kind and polite and even funny without the tone that can make some kids sound bratty and rude. She knows how to be humble and grateful and she truly values being treated like a special princess now and then because we don't make it a habit and spoil her into thinking it's normal or automatic.

Now it is time to light off fireworks after eating fantastic cheeseburgers coleslaw and then homemade watermelon sorbet. Most of my awesome family under one roof and crossing my fingers the wee man sleeps through the loudness. Happy fourth ya'll. Have a safe night :)

Age is just a number?

2011-06-25T07:15:00.000-07:00

I thought I had put this out of my mind and gotten over it. A dream I had and couldn't shake told me otherwise. So here I am. While at the grocery store the other day a lady commented on my cute son and asked how old he is. I, weighing the pros and cons of Frosted Flakes vs Raisin Bran, just answered "about a year old" without really paying much attention. The woman didn't smile and move along the aisle like the others do. She actually said " about? he looks much older than 12 months. Are you sure he isn't 18 months?". Which is annoying for so so many reasons. But I guess the reason that urks me most is the stupid month thing (Though I know it should be the fact she insinuated that I don't know how old my kid is). I have a hard time with measuring a kids age in months after one year old. Because it feels stupid! Really, if you think about it, would it feel normal to say your child is 56 months? Exactly. That is how I would feel saying 13, 15, 19 etc months. Instead, my kid is "about a year" until he is a year and a half. And at that point, he is "about a year and a half".

I was also this way about measuring pregnancy in weeks. It's like just when you enter into an experience that people measure as 9 months ( which is a joke because "technically" it's 10) you are then told that you are XYZ weeks along and that is now the speak used. Argg. It's Trimesters and months and weeks Oh My!! So confusing. But wait there's more!! After you give birth, your wee one is measured in weeks for just a teeny bit. And then months for what seems like eternity. I would like to know who decided to complicate all these timelines. And who decided " we will say that a child is ___ months old until this age. That sounds good. Sure". Is it the same jerk who made American measurement of inches and miles and whatnot ( like we just have to be different from other countries in another way) while all the kilometers in the world couldn't make our students understand math as well as China kids. Thanks for that by the way, whoever you are.

In my overly opinionated opinion, I was pregnant for almost ten months, and now my kid is just over a year old. No more weeks and months from here on out.

I think if this happens again I will ask how old the woman is ( I say woman because men don't give a royal shit how old my kid is. This is a weird female thing). So when I woke up from the annoying reenactment of the shopping event, I smiled as I pictured my snappy response to the rude pterodactyl " he is about a year. How many decades are you, you precious artifact? ".

liar liar pants on fire

2011-06-20T21:54:00.000-07:00

I am encountering a tween. A pre-tween if you will. But I feel like I handled what I like to call a "learning moment" very well today. My normally extremely honest ( almost to a fault) step daughter was weaving me a doozie. I caught on at about the third sentence as it was full of "um" and "so I was thinking". Classic panic and stall tactics. The amusing part is that she was trying to get her way on a topic that I would have totally agreed on anyhow. So it was a pointless elaborate reason given before the actual request. It was unnecessary ass covering. Considering what a royal pain I was as a youth, I can smell it all a mile away. I felt my eyebrow raising with every word she spoke. And then, calmly sat in front of her, made direct eye contact and said "try again. And this time give me the real reason. Keep in mind, I was you about 20-something years ago and I did this better". She sighed and told me the real version. Afterward I explained that I would have said yes if she was straight with me the first time. She was kinda taken aback and said ok like I was going to say "just kidding you're grounded" and hugged me and quickly went to her room. I felt like laughing. Only because she doesn't get that I have done all this crap when I was her age. While having this episode of the twilight zone, I thought back to the times my Dad was totally onto my bullshit techniques and I gasped. Oh yes. Alternate universe type stuff right there. It all makes sense. When he would throw up his hands and say things like "you'll get it when you're a parent" I rolled my eyes at 15. But he was so right. darnit.

I thought about it a lot today and then had some annoyance at those that think I am a less than perfect parent. I don't think there are any perfect parents. Mainly because of the simple fact that there are no perfect people. Moms and Dads are winging it as they go, using they skills they learned through life to shape the tiny people they created (and top it off that each kid is different. Even if you have a dozen). And it is a crazy chain reaction because those Moms and Dads were raised by their own imperfect yet probably just fine parents. So the idiots that judge others are just showing their own insecurities. The best part of this world is that even if by some freak amazing wonder there was in fact a perfect person, the odds of them parenting to perfection is impossible. Because a child is just a little person with limited life experience and without the foresight of understanding that their own parents were once children pulling the same old crap ages ago ( which makes the appear to be psychic at the time and man it's fun being on the other side of that btw). And the odds of that "perfect" person having a perfect child would be alien and robotic and fiction.

With that said, I am doing awesome at parenting this kid that probably thinks she is a fibbing pioneer. And it's hilarious.

Before you even say it, I do know this will be less fun and funny as she really lands in teenagerness and hormones. For right now it's like training wheels are just coming off our Stepmom Stepkid relationship. So far so good. Plus, I was hellish, so I am ready for when her head spins around.

good night ya'll.

Damn you Hallmark

2011-06-17T19:49:00.000-07:00

I think there is something wrong with my tear ducts. I am officially welling up at a damn Hallmark commercial. And it's not even a really touching one! So I do what I always do when I feel particularly stupid about getting all verklempt. I blog and tattle on myself ( often times I feel better about the whole mess but sometimes I feel more stupid. I still hit 'post' no matter). Anyhow, I watched the damn commercial about Father's Day cards and it was all cutesy and some little four eyed pig tailed girl was all love montage with Dad and then gave him his card. Whoopee. Not heart-string-pulling on any serious level. I have had a cocktail and sat for long moment after the commercial ended ( and so far into my show that I missed a whole segment and had to rewind the darn thing to catch up) and thought about my Dad. I think I got emotional because a friend just lost her father a day or so ago and it always makes me a bit nutso because my pops health is such a balance of miracles. I have been saying little thoughts and hope in my head about him staying well and being happy here for a long time. I always try to send good vibes into the universe for my poppa because he deserves it. He is the self proclaimed luckiest man alive and I feel like the luckiest daughter.

All girls should have such a bond with their Daddy. It is a known and proven fact that a little girl gets her self worth and feelings of value from her fathers praise. I know for a solid fact that everything I know I am comes from how my dad let me make my own mistakes without saying he told me so, or telling me how great I am at things I am good at, or that he listened with no judgement when I had curiosities or crazy questions about the world. He has never made me feel like I ask a stupid question. And even now he tells me almost everyday that he doesn't know where he'd be without me. He is the grown up I talked to about crushes on boys and about fights with friends and fears about travels. When I was in college I called him everyday. And every year on my birthday he used to call me a 6 am to be the first person to sing to me.

I am grateful that I get to have my Daddio ten steps away at all times and I can go downstairs and bother him anytime I want to. I am glad he finally listened and came to live with me and my family. I will not give him a card on Sunday. I will go downstairs and hug him around his neck and smooch him on his bald head and tell him how much I am glad to have him right here. He has been my best friend since the day I was born and I don't know who or where I would be without him.

I suck. I am totally tearing up now. Uggh. Blah blah sappy sappy. My point is that I am a total shameless Daddys girl. What I value more, is that I see that in my stepkid. I watch her talk with my hubs and hang on his words. She idolized her Daddy just like I do mine. It melts my heart to think of her kissing Kelly's bald head when he is an old fart someday. It takes one to know one.

Happy Daddy's day ya'll <3

silence is golden but duct tape is silver

2011-06-15T08:17:00.000-07:00

I had one of my awesome grown up epiphanies this morning when the phone rang and we found out someone we knew was having their baby. It was like a chain reaction of little moments of enlightenment really. Where you imagine yourself in someones shoes because their life differs from yours so vastly. It made me appreciate what I have going on in our crazy home all the more seriously. I contemplated not blogging about this because it may rock the boat, make waves, cause a stir etc. But I am fairly tired of watching my mouth fearing misinterpretation. I say what I mean and there aren't lines to read between. And if people don't like it, don't read it ( and/or get over yourself). Anyhow, I was thinking about how hard it would be to have a baby solo. Touchy subject for my ladies who are single moms I know. But I mean deliver a baby without the daddio, sperm donor, father etc ( sometimes men bail, which hardly makes them men. But often they are at least there to be traumatized by the birth). That is such an emotional time and having that partner there to look at and know they are the very closest to understanding the power of bringing this human into the world, because they helped make that human. I can't imagine not having that at that moment. I think it would add a complexity to the emotional roller coaster that I know I can't fathom. It really starts off that baby & mommy bond in a whole other light.

I know there are some baby mommas that do it all themselves (and I know there are some that only think they do it all themselves). I have watched a couple of my girls do everything but move a useless spouse out of the way to clean around him while total bedlam ensues in the vicinity as he get annoyed having to lean to watch tv around all of them. I am not afraid of those knuckle draggers getting upset at this post because I am fairly confident they can't even read. Being grateful that I have a team mate is an understatement. Having a baby single is a very brave adventure and I congratulate that. I wish her luck and hope the best for the incredible life she brings into this world. Being a parent is awesome and wonderful and challenging to say the least.

And yes, I mean congratulations when I say it. There is no back handed compliment happening here or sarcasm. When I say something as heavy as congratulations for keeping this baby, choosing to nurture a new life and deciding to embark on a fast track to adulthood with unparallelled resposiblity but also rewards, I mean it wholeheartedly. I truly believe you will be an excellent mother.

That's one doodle that can't be undid homeskillet. Good choice friend.

Talk to me/Lie to me

2011-06-14T08:50:00.000-07:00

"Boy Boy Boyboyboy Boy" is the new word on the list. Uncle Adam calls him his boy boy. Now he busies himself pushing two trucks across the living room floor calling for Adah! and growling his new phrase over and over. Our pediatrician gave us some tips to help increase the baby vocabulary to words with meaning and I was semi disappointed they weren't some new thing I had yet to read about. We have been trying all kinds of talking and chatter and I have somewhat come to terms with the simple fact of our matter. Our boy is mobile and his dexterity is above average with an inquisitive twist. Yet, mancub is not on the speech bandwagon all the way. He is walking next to that bandwagon trying to take the wheels off, but refuses to hop right on it. We understand each kid is unique. However, I am really interested to see what all his crazed cave man and pirate-like noises translate to when syllables and sentences develop someday. I have a feeling it will be just as confusing, amazing and hilarious as most of his bizarre behaviors. Like when he stares at his sausage toes and the squints and laughs till he tips over. I don't get it but I find it incredible and hilarious.

While fawning over my obnoxiously adorable evil seed, I am on average taking 37.5 trips up and down the stairs to either check on my dad or retrieve or bring something he has requested. I am an on call nurse of sorts. The evidence of his age surfaces more every day. For me personally, I'd rather have him here with me. But it's like watching the years fly off him and regression to youth-like behavior has begun. Only moments of it, but it has undeniably begun. Because he is a fibber. Not a liar. That seems harsh due to the stupidity of the totally unnecessary things he fibs about. Cookies first off. A whole bag of cookies became empty less than 12 hours after I purchased them. Like a 5 year old with a fear of a spanking he tells me he didn't do it. Totally crazy considering I watched him eat about a dozen of them. It is just the reality of him becoming a sneaky little old man. I am just glad I find the humor it it and I remind myself that in a nursing home he wouldn't get away with that crap and they might be strict. Do I need to be more strict? Not about cookies. Other things yes, but cookies no. Considering that a blind flightless bird in a paper bag has more mobility than he does, I am not very strict because I don't need to be mean to steer him back to his two different resting spots. The cookie thing just caught me by surprise is all. Why fib about cookies. Because he is slipping just a teeny tiny bit. Thank god we are here for his silly stuff. He can be so salty that I doubt a nurse in a home would be handing him a bag of cookies in the first place honestly.

Between Daddy and A-man, I shake my head a lot. One is growing up and one is growing old and they spend my time for me. But would I rather be doing this or working with a gaggle of catty hens in an office someplace or answering phones in collections again? Well, this I can do in my pajamas while cleaning my house and eating a bag of cookies I hid from dad.

Word of the day

UPS-et: My own special word for when UPS delays my packages I was practically( literally) watching the window for all day ( and have now discovered text alerts for such delays which are helpful, but still a let down).

Happy Birthday little wombat

2011-06-10T08:27:00.000-07:00

On such a special morning the boy is in an especially energetic and upbeat mood. As I write this he is standing up clapping and grooving to Adele (this kid has serious rhythm). Our morning routine consists of VH1 music videos and this has been our time together since the day he was born. Kinda cool now that I reflect on it. I didn't really mean to make a habit out of it but the kid loves the music and is glued to the tube if there is a video of people playing instruments. Intrigued to say the least ( obsessed is more accurate). So, while I sip my coffee and he rocks out, a familiar song starts playing and I recognize it as Plain White T's and smile. It was a new summer hit this time last year when little meatball and I were in the hospital together recovering. That is where our VH1 dates began.

He is the big 1 today! Pretty incredible how time flies. I know every parent says that crap but really it does. One day you step back and look at your kid and it feels like he grew when you weren't paying attention. I did one of the things I swore not to ( I don't know why I continue to become "that mom" when I constantly vow to be different. It's like it's unavoidable). I looked back at my prego pictures and got all weepy. Not because I am just dying to be all pregnant again. NO WAY. But because I am insanely blessed and my miracle boy changed my world. Sure he is a lunatic that is really into yelling instead of actually forming words and developing any kind of vocabulary, but that too will come on faster than I realize I'm sure. This stubborn mancub mirrors me a bit ( a lot) and when he gives an evil smirk and a laugh it makes that one fat FAT summer well worth it.

I admit to spoiling the heck out of him. Because he is my only baby. He got insane presents the last couple weeks leading up to this day ( I am sure my home will look like Toys R Us threw up in it after his party tomorrow. I love it) and yes I know not every one year old needs a ball pit. But I like it. I like that I can play with him and pretend to be a monster that tackles him in a sea of bright colored plastic bubbles inside a whimsical tent with a pattern similar to a wonder bread wrapper. It's awesome. While he is a baby I will buy him whatever I feel like. Because when he gets old enough to beg for stuff I have a feeling it all will shift. I don't want a brat I just want a kid with a crazy wacky imagination that is fed by learning and pretend and a zillion books. And, a ball pit. And so far, a play structure with the swing/slide combo, a baby guitar, rocking bull that talks and sings, Pocoyo movies, and huge foam blocks. Yeah, I know. I don't want to look back when he is 16 and think " I wish I would have read more, sang more, danced more, played more....with him". So I spoil him with things, with my time, with play, with music, with everything. Because I can. I am so damn grateful to be able to have a baby to spoil.

I have a date with my best girl today too. I get to go help at her school for field day which is as much fun for me as it is for her. The close of 3rd grade is upon us. *sigh* Wow.

Then off to Aidan's one year appointment because I am kind of a jerk and scheduled him for shots ON his birthday. Mean Mommy. That's me.

The Grandpa; The title my dad uses when I get on him about all kinds of things. Use it in a sentence? Ok. " I get to. Because I am The Grandpa." So, even though I do a bunch for the kid, quite a bit of it is just me enabling the old man. But honestly he does have a point. And what kind of person would I be if I stood in his way ( and it keeps me from being the only spoiler. I can blame The Grandpa. hahaha).

Happy Birthday sweet boy. I love you more every minute of everyday.

Le Sigh

2011-06-01T21:10:00.000-07:00

So, I love love love my hair. More importantly I love my girl who does my hair to this level of perfection. She reads my mind. When I say "whatever you think would look best" it's because I mean it. She saw my vision the first time I went in and I will be devoted to her. No more box color for this gal. I am healed from my past trauma. Anyone who was around during what I call the "Jimmy Neutron Hair" disaster grow out year (or three) knows how scared I am to let anyone do anything drastic to my head since. It's my HEAD. It's what I have to greet people with. And I am only stuck looking in the mirror at it sometimes. I do however have to endure the shocked/horrified/confused looks from others if I go to Great Clips ever again and let some whack-o create her Edward Scissorhands rendition of a "Katie Holmes" bob. That was an experience worse than any mirror ( even the ones with the giant light bulbs of shame surrounding them. only movie stars look good in those and probably only in movies).

Recently I was getting my hair cut and colored by my Mother in law ( who was amazing also, she retired and I refuse to make her home smell like the bleach paste necessary to accomplish my new look). But after my grey began a stand off with me I knew things had entered uncharted territory. It was time for something much much lighter.

Seated under the soothing blower that drowns out the world as I scan the pile of US and People magazines. This I realize is bliss. This is my hour and a half away. My doctor still pressures me to find that mystical half hour to an hour of "me time" a day. I still laugh at the idea of asking where I can fill that prescription for more hours in the day. What I really want to explain to her are the similarities between extra time and a damn unicorn. Sitting under the heat with a zillion foils blonding my strands it clicked. I will trade my daily "me time" for a monthly hair session and call it all even and fair. I feel like a new woman every time I leave that place. And I genuinely have a great time bragging about my monster and my crazy dad and my hubs ( who just interrupted me because I am taking forever in here. No privacy I swear).

Had a great day to say the least. I am resisting the urge to spend a while rooting though my picture files to find that really bad hair cut from way back when. It is worth posting if I find it. Seriously. I may do it tomorrow after coffee and before Ikea ( yes you read that. I said Ikea!! stay tuned).

Also, if you happen to have one of those mirrors equip with the shame bulbs around it, just unscrew three or four. Makes life a lot easier.

birds are not recyclable

2011-05-26T09:26:00.000-07:00

What a morning. Chaos is constant at our bustling family dwelling. But some days are more confusing than others. Especially when I have made the decision to give myself a perfect storm of a hangover. Why? because damnit, I am a glutton for punishment. While enjoying a beautiful Riesling with my spouse last night I did not eat enough to cushion my indulgence. Thus creating a clouded head that made everyone sound like the teacher from Charlie Brown. Normally I ease into my routine of bottling the baby, making coffee, ignoring my husbands alarm being snoozed (again) and bringing down Dads a.m. medications. It's a smooth ballet I can often do half asleep. Not today. The baby crying came on like an air raid siren and Dad needed someone, anyone, everyone to hurry to the store asap for emergency milk and other stupid items that do not constitute an emergency in my book. Last time I checked there was no such thing as a life or death dairy situation that had ever made the 6 o'clock news.

I am a stumbelina with a headache that I cannot blame on anyone but myself. And I am staring at 7 oz of warm water trying to understand the formula of formula. I am lost in my head cloud and frazzled. Thankfully my super brother glides up the stairs fully clothed and head shaking. He overhead my baffled conversation with Pops about urgent store needs and came to my aid. Which was really nice because I was no way in Hades waking him up at 8 am for that crap. That would be rude. What a saint. I give him a card and send him on his way. Godspeed!!

Somewhere in the madness my hubs silently slips out the door to work and everything seemed calm for a second. Pretty short lived though and before I had two gulps of coffee down the baby was wailing and Adam was back home. On his way in he mentioned seeing a dead bird on the front walkway which apparently Pops needed to investigate because before I knew it all three of us were outside. I surrendered to the logical need for more coffee as Dad proceeds to tell me not to use his debit card to pick up dead birds. It would "goop it up" and I "should just use his drivers license" and he started inside to get it. What the?!? I live in the twilight zone.

I went inside to get some junk mail which is really the best scooper of anything disposable and we all know it. Debit card? Really? Weirdo. I have to laugh at that stuff because it's just the hiccup in communicating with a guy that tunes in and out whenever. It can be really fun when my head isn't splitting in half. And that is why I do not tie one on like I used to. I just watched a show about Moms who day drink ( I will admit that I used to be part of the Day Drinking League of Champions in my twenties. Yes it's a real club). To get through the depression of being a stay at home Mom instead of a career woman, they start out the day with wine instead of a latte on this show. I could never hang with that crowd. Clearly night drinking to relax is even a bit much for my wussie self. I only got through part of the episode because the talk of Merlot was making me thirsty.

Crazy how everything happens in a short span of moments and when the dust clears not a soul is around and all is quiet. Because now, the baby is out cold after throwing a huge tantrum and being fed another 4 oz ( I don't know how the heck he eats so much but he swears he is going to starve to death) Dad is napping downstairs and Adam is done running around ASAP for lactose.

And I just put the dead bird in the recycling on accident. Damnit. I am not getting in there to correct it. R.I.P. I need more coffee.

sugar baby

2011-05-15T10:02:00.000-07:00

I just washed the stickiest grossest baby I have ever seen. Watermelon in the hair, syrup rubbed on the arms and face as though it were a luxurious lotion. Pancakes in the ears too. All accomplished in about 30 minutes or less. With the help of Grandpa. I think I may have done about 234 laps up and down the stairs to bring various food items ( or correct temperature because I apparently allowed the pancakes to cool TOO much for the old man). And after the first course of breakfast, my Pops informs me that "they ( he and Aidan) will be needing a large bowl of watermelon, cubed, to share". Really? Ok. Fine. "Oh and another pancake". Hmm. Ok. "And the last few were too dry. More syrup". Grrrrr. And then, after my last waitress trip up and down, I saw the coolest thing. My kid looked at me as my Dad says " uh oh there's Momma". The two conspire already. And my monster is totally in on it. He had his " naughty" grin on and everything. I had to smile. I decided they were fine and I turned to go up and make myself a cup of coffee ( finally) and told dad "Do not give him any syrup, he doesn't need the sugar" and had the thought to watch him as he said "Ok" while forking a few sloppy syruped squares of his pancakes onto Aidan's tray. "Damnit Dad!!! I can see you!" I couldn't believe it. What a brat. "Oohkayyyy, no more I swear" he laughed.

That is his right, I remind myself, as his grandparent. To spoil the beast. And then yell up to me that the child is done and squealing. My cue to remove him and promptly plop him into the tub.

I am extremely glad to have my Daddy here to hang with my kid. And these moments are hilarious. I got my stair climber workout for the day which is great because I plan to first sit in my jammies with my best girl and watch the teeny bopper Justin Bieber movie. Then off to a buffet dinner with my awesome in laws for a belated Mother' Day feast.

The boy aught to be happy because this means he gets to do his favorite thing twice today. Eat till he can't eat no more. What a piggy.

Word of the day:

Sugar Glazed
The look in a childs eyes as the pupils dilate and they catch a serious sugar buzz. Right before they completely lose control and sing or flail or whatever maniacal outlet they find.

dream a little dream

2011-05-07T16:07:00.000-07:00

I had some super trippy dreams last night that I would like to share. First let me rewind to when I was pregnant and said that I had dreams of being thin. Well, as we approach Aidan's big one year celebration, I find myself dreaming of when I was pregnant. I will have all the ladies with and without babies telling my that must mean I am itching for more kids. Not a chance. This life is oh so complex right now. I wouldn't wish that for a nano second ( not to mention I tied my tubes. I didn't get a home kit and do it myself or anything, I mean I had it done when I had A-man). I think it is because he is semi walking. He is officially into everything and I can't sit still for a second because he doesn't sit still for a second. So my dream interpretation is that I long for the days he was trapped and didn't make messes. What I did to remedy this stupidity is go back and re-read my prego blogs. There are not words to describe how great that idea was. I now VIVIDLY recall how huge and ridiculous those days were ( like a PTSD flashback) and will probably not allow this nonsense to be a reoccurring thing. Look at my awesome dream therapy eh? :)

So now on to the next one. A little trippier even. I beat up Megan Fox. So surreal and detailed that I could read some of her stupid tattoos. And she kept giving this smirk that I finally kicked off her face like I was Chuck Norris. Totally amazing ninja shit. But the thing is that I did it because she married Brian Austin Green. My childhood heartthrob crush from 90210. Everyone in our group of friends picked a guy to swoon over and he was my choice when I was a tween ( in hindsight I got screwed. I mean did you see Luke Perry in Buffy the Vampire Slayer? wowza!). But in my dream we were grown up and on a beach someplace and I cat-fought and thoroughly tore up miss Fox in a battle of his love. Way bonkers, I am aware ( especially because I am totally over Brian). Really wondering what the hell that segue was between a fatty prego dream of past actual events and into me being thin and super fit and kicking her ever-loving ass.

Maybe that is the link. I am in between being as big as a house and being fit. I am in the plateau-ed state of limbo. 40 lbs down and 30 lbs to go. Right in the chubby phase. I think that is what is causing the memory dreams and the longing dreams. I am slowly doing it but it is ALOT harder than I had anticipated ( and actually at times I feel that it's not as hard as I make it out to be. I guess that is confusing to anyone who hasn't battled weight). I am not giving up but rather accepting my current shape and buying clothes to fit it. Because the struggle of "in between" is too much pressure with the wardrobe. I am a solid double digit that is very close to my goal. Just a little jiggly is all ( Some might look down their noses at how long this has taken me to lose the weight I put on. But frankly I'd rather take a long time and be healthy and IN SHAPE then deal with sad bulimia no-ass-at-all syndrome. Plus I love food so I must exercise). The sun is shining and life is good. I am off to eat bacon wrapped pot roast accompanied by baby red and purple potatoes with my awesome family. And ice cream for desert. :) I'll walk it off later. You only live once.

Word of the day:

Bottle neck
When the baby has finished sucking down a full bottle at light speed and some milk has leaked down and around the entire chub roll of his neck. It is what I call a Drinking problem ( look at that. a Two-fer word of the day special)

Little things pile up

2011-05-05T09:08:00.000-07:00

And by the title I mean lots of things. Laundry especially. Little man laundry is incredible. I actually think it's cute that it takes 75 thousand shirts and pants to make up one full load. I do not however enjoy folding them. Because my monster really likes to unfold them. Thus creating the basket Mom gave up on.

Other things that pile up are the mass quantities of fruit sitting on my kitchen counters. Almost every surface in there is taken up by bags of apples, oranges, a few melons, you name it it's probably in there. Because I am a juicing machine!!! Or rather, I got a juicing machine and I am crazy in love with it. Somehow the old man who won't eat a peach is all about a tall cool glass of beets, wheat grass, apples, carrots, cucumber and watermelon. Go figure. I don't waste too much time pondering why, I just juice. I can make anything! It's amazing! And of course my boy who tries anything will drink a sippy cup of any concoction I put in front of him. This is what I plan to do when I am done writing. Juice mass amounts of beets and a whole pineapple!! Life is very exciting.

I am trying new things to help Dad with his health. A complete shock, he agreed to try a few new things. Let me just express how strange that it. He has been stubbornly set in his ways since before I was born. So for him to be like " yeah, sure. Acupuncture sounds like a fun idea" and not be sarcastic about it, is a major big deal. To the point that I took his temp to be sure no fever was causing his agreeable mood. Being stuck with needles is absolutely the opposite of what I would call fun but I know at this point he will try anything he hasn't before to feel good again. And he has tried anything that comes in a pill form. He is learning that a pill does not solve the stages of aging. It will not get your independence back or rewind the clock. Pills are not going to get you back in the seat of a Harley cruising down a sunny highway. Aging is inevitable. And when you get older having someone around to help can be a blessing and a curse. I can just try my best to be the person who sneaks nutrition back into his day and boost that energy a bit. Perk him up and play some peek-a-boo with baby. Life is good at any age if you let it be and move past the Eeyore road block of feelings. Working of feeling good and looking on the bright side.

A happy happy note, my kid finally said MAMMA!!!!! Wahooooo!!! And wouldn't you know it, the little bugger did it on my Birthday. At lunch with plenty of witnesses. At first I thought I was making a word out of a mumble ( I had all but given up on him saying it anytime soon). But then he said it louder and with a smile after MmmmmMmmmMmmming for a bit. Such a great present to me. What more could I ask for? It was actually an amazing birthday. I kind of got showered with gifts I have really wanted. Like getting my hair done super nice, and a huge bottle of my favorite face wash ( which is spendy so I never splurge. But seriously I should because a cheap face wash sucks the life out of your skin) and even fancy and lovely smelling perfume. Feeling pretty spoiled is awesome when you're used to feeling kind of like a plow horse! It's nice to feel special and loved.

All things are interesting currently. Not a dull moment.

Word of the day:
Tie-diaper
The wild colored poop after a full sippy cup of home made juice. Tie dye effect.

Nature calls

2011-04-17T07:38:00.000-07:00

So anyone that knows me even a little, knows that I am pretty much all about nature. Yep, tree huggin hippie right here. I was always the kid who was saving ( capturing) injured (perfectly healthy) animals in hopes that my parents would understand my need to rescue and heal them ( keep them forever as pets). They never really allowed it. So I occasionally got caught with awesome lizards, tiny snakes or a bird ( stupid loud blue jay) in my room. I was always peering into water run offs, crossing my fingers I'd find salamanders ( one time I came home with a Costco sized jar teeming with brown and red salamanders and my Mom almost fainted. I had lost count at forty. She was not impressed). And outdoor school was seriously where I wanted to live. Heaven for biology science nerds. I love animals ( except slugs because they do nothing good for the planet and are just nasty. It's a fact and not open for discussion or argument. blech).

Now that you know all of this I will tell you my dilemma. Being a home owner may cause conflict with my inner nature lover. I was enjoying the view of freshly planted tomatoes in porch pots next to my herb garden when I heard and then saw a teeny bird. Exiting a small space in our Sunsetter awning. Not so good. I then contemplated if those birds could have already lain eggs. And will I ever be able to open or retract my awning again without wondering of a little bird farm being squished. So I spent the next thirty minutes investigating with a small camera ( as not to put my giant head in a squawking bird domicile only to get my eyes pecked out. What, you never saw Birds? ) and looked for established nests. None that I could see. I spent the next thirty minutes after that contemplating where to research the types of bird houses these teenies might like as to detract from the appeal of my damn awning. While brewing coffee and thinking I was rudely interrupted by a reminder that our chimney cap is metal. And when a little jerk woodpecker takes a liking to it ( which happens several times a week now) it sounds like a jack hammer and gives me heart failure ( and spilling water on the floor that I would slip on hours later).

So far my owing a home has made me question my love of birds. :(
I think I need to put out my humming bird feeders ( because they have been sword fighting over the cherry blossom bugs) and birdy houses to ease my worry. And I have no clue how to not want to shoot a woodpecker. But I'd probably just want to nurse it back to health anyhow so what is the point.

I am going to go get my hands dirty today and turn the soil in my girls butterfly garden. And pull a few weeds. And then sit on my fat ass in the sunshine in shorts because my yard has a nice fence that blocks the view thus sparing my neighbors.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Holy grammatical errors batman!!! I have said it before and I'll say it again. I should not blog before consuming my coffee. Sorry ya'll. I think I got them all.

Fun Times!!

2011-04-12T19:40:00.000-07:00

With a title like that I know you must waiting on the edge of your seat to see what joyous joy I pen!! Yeah. No. I am in a mood for a quickie so I will just jot a list of junk and a list of awesome. To catch you up on the good and the bad. :)

Let's begin with all the awesome things lately:

my son is taking his first steps like an all star and he doesn't even cry when he falls on his face (some of those have gotta hurt)
my step kid is totally back to her normal self after all the awkward girl talk ( poor kid)
my hubby is doing housework like spring brought the best out in him ever
I have found a few new ways to filter the evil out of my life
I have found two really great friends in semi unlikely places when I least expected it
the Butterfly Garden is ready to be planted and the 8 yr old girl should squeal with joy
taught the girl photography skills and she is really good with the the sweet digital camera she has taken over ( not to mention she talks about "editing her pics" now. so cute)
totally talked my Dad into acupuncture and wellness teas!!!
met some baby mommas that are good company and not creepy one uppers
got some major props from someone I consider to be a Super Mom about how I "keep it together" and " don't lose sight of what matters" :) I almost got sappy and cried.

And now my shit list:

my hair needs a change BADLY ( that should happen professionally and soon thanks to my Birthday approaching and my super awesome spouse)
the yard is something we will have to attack in about 3 stages :( I had hoped to do the I Dream of Genie thing and poof! it would be pretty.
a couple pregnant people I know are being super annoying lately ( no offense but stop acting like you know everything or that you get any good advice from the horrible company you keep. ok. offense)
a couple engaged people I know are being super annoying lately ( you are not the first women to ever get married. And the rest of us cared for the first hours you wasted of our lives talking about shit you should be planning with your mother)
I really want my tan to instantly be here already. I hate being this albino. It's gross.
my adorable step kid saying she is getting fat. YOU ARE 8!!!! You have all the time in your teens to get all body worried ( boy if I could get my hands on the idiot who told her she was chubby)
I finished a bunch of books and apparently saved the worst for last. I had to trudge through it though because I'd forever wonder if I was just being an asshole and after page 230 it got good ( which it did not)

Super annoying crap that makes me roll my eyes and have a beer. But all in all things are super good. Especially since I pre-ordered the Justin Bieber movie for the girl to cheer her up. Life is hard when you're 8 and boys are stupid and friends are catty. I like to reward her for being smart and making great choices at school.And frankly I want to have a PJ night and make popcorn and watch it with her.

Tomorrow I get to finish the loose ends of one hobby and then setting it aside due to glorious weather coming up that will force me outdoors with my camera. *sigh* It's nice to have an outlet. Or ten. Keeps the mind and soul right. Besides, I have already eaten through the 6 books I bought thinking they'd last me a while. And the crafty fire is burning again.

In case you were wondering why I am back to being all snarky. I think this nice weather has my Bitch all flared up. lol

getting old? what? I can't hear you

2011-03-31T16:13:00.000-07:00

Yeah. I am feelin it. Mainly because I was reading through ads for technological stuff I had contemplated buying. I'll be damned if the words dynamic, advanced, superior and innovative just made it all sound complicated and I gave up. I am not sure if it had anything to do with the ruckus torture of Mary Had a Little Lamb blaring over and over in the room next door ( which is intermittently interrupted by blaring frog noises and car horn honks thanks to this AWESOME new toy with no OFF switch Aidan loves). I seem to have trouble focusing when all the items look exactly the same to me but the wording is a numeral or capitalized letter different from the item before. Hmmmm. Pretty sure this means I have officially slipped off the treadmill as far as keeping up with the times is concerned. You know, like when for a while you are in the loop and up to speed and then one day you realize your phone looks like a plastic brick with a single beep type ring and the person sitting next to you just answered a spaceship playing a concert version of a current pop song. And you thought you may be at that concert because the song quality and laser light show emitted from said phone was so spectacular. Yeah. Like that.

I am feeling this with computers right now. Trying to be ahead of the crash or blue screen moment on the horizon, I was merely window shopping till my eyes crossed. The result was me popping some Motrin for my headache. I guess I will just pat the trusty beast of a monitor lovingly and hold my breath that the de frag I just did shows the compy how much I appreciate it. Stay with me a bit longer friend. And I will not throw you from the roof. Deal? Deal. :)

I do think it's just a taste of what most of our folks went though and are now in denial of. There are some hip Mommas out there who are savvy with the Facebook ( shout out to my Mother in law right there) but they are not the majority of their era. My Dad used to think my computer class in 5th grade was a joke and a waste (little did he know how my gaming skills would be nurtured by all those hours playing Oregon Trail). But now the computer is a school staple and the cursive handwriting skills are diminishing. Crazy times we are living in. And before I start talking too much of the "good ol days" and " young whippersnappers" I am going to end.

Save it for later

2011-03-26T18:44:00.000-07:00

So the last few weeks have been a tad stressy at the Feltus household. We have had a few trips to the hospital for my daddio, some important girl talk with the 8 yr old, and the epic saga of the first two teeth for little A ( which will be like a 32 part mini series from what I have heard from other moms). When life gets uber crazy and I feel pulled in every direction ( get upstairs from laundry and hear my phone ring, hang up from the call and babe is crying, shush the baby and dad wants lunch,the spouse wants to read me clips from CNN etc.) I try to remind myself that I'd rather have everyone where I can keep an eye on them. And that I kinda asked for this.

The really nice highlights are as follows: Dad is doing great and we are on a new plan of foods, meds and a brighter outlook on life in general. The power of positive thinking can help our outlook on some of the things we can't actually just snap our fingers and change in a day. At the very least it can change our mood while we work it all out.

The prince of chaos and mayhem has officially cut his two bottom teeth and looks ridiculous. I adore this. His doofy smile when he squints up his eyes and juts his lower jaw forward only exaggerates these two nubs more. He has become really good at eating ( like we doubted he'd go pro in this sport) and is munching away at all things edible. Went to Red Lobster and fed him off the 6 adults plates like a baby buffet. It is in fact as entertaining for us as it is pleasing to his belly. Today however he shocked me. While grazing on some peaches and Cheerios he was clearing his tray like a mad man and the fistfuls of peaches left him adhesive to the touch. I popped off the tray to plop baby in the awaiting tub and to my amazement he was half out of his diaper! And, the diaper was acting as a pouch. And he was filling this pouch with the makings of a pretty decent continental breakfast. Laughing my head of I take the nudist kangaroo to the bathroom to find cereal loops EVERYWHERE. You name it, they were there. I have to say I enjoyed the jaw drop my Hubby gave when I displayed for him a tiny baby penis crowned perfectly with a Cheerio. In itself that right there was worth it. :) Aidan had a great bath while I noticed a new O's surface now and then. Baffling as to how those baby rolls hide so much.

Fantastic laughs for a frantic past few days. *sigh* My side hurts and it's great.

Word of the day:

Poodle

Puddle of poo. :) keeping it simple today.

when isn't it cold season. kinda pointless to say "season"

2011-03-07T08:35:00.000-08:00

I am a bit annoyed. And clearly (as always? ) I have a reason. My poor meatball keeps catching something or another, undoubtedly from the school age girl. Elementary school is a scientifically proven petri dish full of carrier monkeys. Anyhow, little dude had the sniffles, beat that. Then some serious snot issues ( not cool at all, he was slimer) beat that. Now he has a cough. Not the dry hacking kind. The gross Mucinex commercial kind. Too bad there is no such thing as baby Mucinex. I am not into drugging my kid at every sign of a cootie or sneeze. I just don't like him feeling yucky. It's sad. And frankly he gets a lot more whiny and complicated. Add that to his normal daily hunger hostility and oh joy of joys is he fun. I refuse to go to the doctor if it's me but I have teetered on bringing him in for the last few little ill moments. Just as I am going to call for an appointment, it's that day that he wakes up all sunny and happy and fine. Of course. This time I heard him cough after being perfectly healthy for a couple weeks and thought " Someone infected my baby!!!"( notice how that statement makes him the victim and of course leaves me room to blame someone) because that's what Mommy's do. But as it turns out no one in our house has a cough at all. That means it is my other nemesis the shopping cart handle! Or I could come down from my readiness to slay the cootie-villain and be realistic. It's probably airborne and Aidan is a baby.

I try really hard not to be over the top about bumps bruises and sicky baby stuff. It's all normal. Like when he cruises around the furniture now. And then leans back to pet the dog. And then takes a step toward her. And falls flat on his face ( on the way down you see the look of "oh crap I don't quite know how to do this right yet"). I wait for it. The cry. But so far none of that. No wimp here thank goodness because there are too many men in this house who will not permit that. But no need for comfort at all. Just crawls over and hoists back up on the recliner to do his little knee bendy silly dancey dance as he squeaks and spits all over my chairs. Good times. Rough and tumble just like I predicted. At least one thing so far is turning out the way I thought. Oh and the eating is on track too. Can't forget that. My piggy will eat anything!! It's the coolest game ever! He has had scrambled eggs lately. Loved them. And, his first hot dogs, a girl scout cookie ( don't judge me it was shortbread), bread crust with mustard from a sandwich, pork roast, bacon.....the list is pretty endless because I feed him tidbits from my plate as he eats snacks.

And he is yelling " Mom!!! Meatloaf!!""" now. lol No but he is hungry so I am done.

Word of the day.

Mermaiding: When you change your kid and they are flailing around so bad you completely get both legs in one pant hole. And they are being such a punk you want to just leave it that way.

Look what I can do!!

2011-02-28T08:49:00.000-08:00

My son is oh so very talented. Gifted even ( what mother does not think this of their child right?). My kid can do a few things better than your kid for sure. Like, for instance, he is advanced when it comes to Houdini type tricks. I wouldn't be half shocked if he became a magician. He can wriggle out of his own pants and undo a diaper in record time and in total silence. I know this because the monitor did not alert me to his stripping. My little nudist has now decided that pants free is the way to be. All kidding aside, it's so annoying. He refuses to have pants put back onto his squirmy little body ( little, ha! my little bubble butt). And I have to tackle him and entertain him with something shiny or sparkly while slamming pants onto his person with speed and agility ( and I really don't get numerous attempts without a hostile fight back so it's the first time or defeat).

He refuses to say Momma. But laughs when I correct him calling me Dadda. Evil stuff I tell ya. But I have found a way to seek revenge. I have found......the tickle spot! Dun Dun Duuuunnnnnnn! So when baby gets feisty I get him. The laugh produced by a tickle attack is like no other. He already has a fairly hearty chuckle so when I really wind him up it makes me laugh to tears myself. The best is when the first part of the laugh is all gaspy and the the chuckle and then when the end is all " tsh tsh tsh tshhhhh *sigh*". That's the only way I can describe it.

His other new amazing thing is that he is cutting a tooth (finally after two months of teething. how rude). And he is taking it pretty well. This is making him investigate mouths though. Anyone's mouth. Friends at birthday parties fall victim to the forceful baby dentist wannabe as he suddenly shoves his whole hand into their mouth to touch teeth. The look on his face when he is exploring the mouth is priceless awe and intrigue. He taps a tooth, then tries to take it out, then grabs a few and squeezes, and pokes the gums and sometimes smooshes the tongue to the roof of the mouth if you let him. I let him. Maybe that is gross to you. Or maybe you understand that his interest in exploring these things is very important. And maybe it's a good thing I let him check for cavities when no one is around because I am mumbling things like "toof" and "tun" once he has actually invaded my face. I try to name all things to give him a great vocabulary, in this situation it proves difficult to properly enunciate.

So my kid is clearly on his way to becoming the very best magician/dentist in the universe ( though at the rate he is going it may be a dentist at a nudist colony). Which is great because I have been dying to have something up my sleeve when the One Upper Mommy type strikes. So far I have kept them at bay with sarcasm ( because it is sooo hard to have an honest to goodness jab talk over which baby is crawling "properly"). I have to interject things like " I heard that children allowed to graze outdoors actually read earlier" just to see if they are just waiting for their turn to talk about their own kid. Like I have said, it is extremely hard for me to partake in these group gatherings. Not because I am better, but because I don't care to compete. Every kid is different. It is not a contest. There is no prize. But I do it to feel like a good Mom after being cooped up with me, myself and I for too long a stretch.

I hear the nudist talking to himself, no doubt standing up and bouncing around like he wants to break the crib. Time to go see if I again win the pants or no pants game with my guess of No Pants. If I am correct I reward myself with Girl Scout Cookies!!

Twenty minutes later:
Came back to say I won the game!! No pants indeed!

And also to add the word of today.

Jab Talk- Not arguing. But not a polite conversation. More or less a session of back and forth one-upping that has an underlying insulting feel. You will recognize this type of chat by the awkwardness of others in the room that are unwilling to participate but eagerly awaiting the next jab.

Equally Awesome

2011-02-16T11:38:00.000-08:00

I was online shopping ( because that is what I do now) when I got a wild hair. So I meander on over to Etsy, skimming along the baby stuff with an unamused look on my face. I became annoyed with myself. Why am I so lazy when it comes to marketing my stuff? I have tons of people who look at or comment on things I make for Aidan. And to be honest ( and try not to sound super conceited about it) I have whipped out countless ideas and then moved on to the next. It's like creativity just keeps giving me these money making opportunities and I stick them in a drawer. What am I doing? I think I get all eager and then disappointed when I post on Etsy. It is an artistic death wave of expectations and failure. I just don't have the staying power for it anymore. And it's not an outlet type website for an actual store I run in real life. So I think that's why I feel epic frustration for the lack of success when I compare my page to other pages. And maybe I have a tiny little " I could make that better" gene in me that drives my jealousy. Instead of browsing other peoples awesome while turning green because they are turning a profit, I should motivate myself for the positive. And this could be not only a great outlet but a boost for the after-baby-lack-of-confidence issue.

I am going to get back on the bike I have fallen off and make bigger attempts. I am going to start by marketing custom quilts like the one I made Aidan. Have people send in the favorite onesies or shirts of the babes and I will make a patchwork lovie or blanket for them at a reasonable price. It's a good idea and easy for me. Now to begin the plan and then put it into action. *deep breath* I will let you know how this goes. And I will not be pitching my scheme on Etsy. I refuse to be distracted. I do however need a couple test subjects to manufacture a demo or two so I have a variety to show. Calling all baby mommas ;) Start rounding up your kids outgrown cute and give me a holla!

Baby term for today: The Scoots
- the overflow from a diaper that squishes up the crack and onto the lower back region. Caused by a newly found mobility and a full or even semi full diaper.

frustration station

2011-01-26T09:20:00.000-08:00

My kid has lost it. I am on the hunt for a handbook to unlock tips and tools for this phase I had not been prepped or informed of. It is......the abusive stage ( dun dun dunnnnnn). Laugh if you like, my baby has a toddler body and was born with Chuck Norris strength ( or did you forget). He beats me. I think I should seek help. Maybe I asked for it. I didn't get his bottle fast enough so I got five across the eyes. The shanking I can handle because it's my own dumb fault if I forget to clip those sharp little talons. But using my clavicle as a handle to pull on? No thank you. Or a quick kick to the sternum mid diaper change? ( frowny face) At least I am not fully alone ( though this behaviors have begun to limit the snuggle time with others out of fear). Dad and Uncle Bam Bam have received heel drops to the jewels recently ( yes it does make me feel better, sorry). Little man enjoys this stuff. Much to my dismay. Because I had hoped to enroll him in a few baby groups in the next few months. Now I almost feel like keeping him home to protect other peoples babies. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Shouldn't the fears I have about play classes or daycare revolve around other kids being mean to my sweet boy? Not when I have baby Bam Bam. His Hulk stage is getting a little out of hand and he is really to young to punish or scold for serious. Don't for one second think I must spare him. I absolutely let him know he hurts me using my big "not happy" voice and sometimes I cry (And sometimes it's real crying. I told you he is strong ok!). So now what? How do you correct this? When I find out what works I will let you know.

He is also loud. Not like crying loud. Like yelling "Ada!!!!" at the very top of his lungs ( and sometimes when we think it's the top, he cranks it up higher to our surprise). My favorite ( sike) is when he yells over me when I am on the phone. That, is fun. I am sorry to those of you that this has happened to ( except those of you that laughed. you suck). I especially enjoy that it makes me lose all train of thought and perhaps it was important. I had someone actually tell me this idea as a solution: "Maybe you should get a squirt bottle and spray him every time he gets loud and crazy. It works with my dog." Rest assured I will not be hosing my baby down. Our water bill is high enough as it is.

Back to the child class/daycare debacle. I have been having a little inner turmoil tug-a-war. Would I be putting him in daycare for the right reasons? My sanity would be my reason. Is this ok? I am not a working Mom. I don't need to enroll him anywhere. But I would like to have a few hours twice a week to clean my house or shop or pass out. Plus I really think interaction with other babies is important. So why do I feel like I am right back at 18 years old fresh out of high school and choosing a college? And why is the choice so hard? And why do I have "freshman jitters" all over again when dealing with the "senior class" Moms who are pro at this. It is all more intimidating then I had ever expected. After working in the very same type of environment I am now touring and judging, you'd think this would be easier. It is in fact a whole new view of familiar territory. And very scary from this angle I must say. I do recall being the actual tour guide at my old school and I do know that what we were dealing with was a parents most prize possession, most beloved person in their life, and that they were more often than not making a huge investment of trust choosing our school. I remember all of that. And I am trying with all my might to appreciate that the people touring me through their school are probably in-the-know of these things as they apply now to me and my child. But let's just be real here, this stuff is terrifying. Because it is new. It is a "first".

I am planning a draft of the apology letter I will enclose with any enrollment packet for any school. It begins with "I am deeply sorry in advance for the pain and suffering, emotional or physical, that my child may cause your staff or students". That's all I have so far. :)

My baby the Sim

2011-01-13T09:56:00.001-08:00

Can someone tell me how to explain to a 7 month old explorer more brave than Christopher Columbus that the bed is not round but is indeed flat and yes he can navigate off the edge easily with his new crawling skills? I would inform him in plain English but we seem to have a language barrier now that he has adopted a vocabulary only a Sim could decode. As fun as his babble is, the only two coherent words thus far are DADA ( yes I am annoyed by this) and Dog-dog-dog. Still the only two words that make sense though "Ada" has been muttered here and there which leads me to think my brother is more important to the baby and Mama will just not happen anytime soon. So unfair. All of it. Yet in all this verbal nonsense, I understand him. Pretty much know the kid like the back of my hand really. He has four distinct cries. Well five now that we have the "I had a bad dream" cry which breaks my heart to a zillion pieces. He has full on night terror style bad dreams and cries in his sleep. Crazy to think that someone with such sheltered life experience could have such emotionally chraged dreams that make him sob into his blankie and shed real tears. I wonder what his dreams could consist of. He hasn't had anything an adult could consider traumatizing happen to his little self. Did I not feed him fast enough? Did the dog refuse to be petted ( or open hand smacked rather)? Did Daddy leave for work? I don't know but whatever he dreams, it saddens him and shatters my heart. It's the first real awful thing for me to deal with I think. Can't protect him from dreams when he is without the language skills to grasp the comforting mommy words that squash fear. *sigh* Just hugging it out for right now works. But man, when he clings for dear life and he is still half asleep and sob-sighing, ugh. Just kills me.

I guess the thing to remember is that I am damn lucky to have these moments. Along with the rest. The good with the bad. And maybe he is telling me all about his bad dreams in Sim speak and I don't even know it.

In other news, I have finished three tasks on my sewing To-Do list:

* Aidan's quilt made out of onesies he has been given (I'll post a picture because I am so proud)
* Curtains for Hal's room
* Curtains for Aidan's room

So far so good. Oh and I made my bro a pillow. A huge body pillow actually. Out of cozy soft baby blanket material because he fell so in love with the stuff I used on the quilt border. :) Pretty cute really. A big huge Man-baby pillow.

Quilt!!!!

and matching pillow :) because that's what I do.

good morning/afternoon quiet time!

2010-12-28T09:56:00.000-08:00

So lately life has been a bit complex (to say the least) and I have refrained from blogging because I am trying out a new technique. It's called maintaining a stable household while sacrificing all sanity. I am taking a break from this new trend to blog because I need a little Mommy time. How about an update on the Felti household. ok, here goes ( semi condensed version because who knows how long nap time will really be).

Aidan is now 6 months old. He is trying to walk before crawling and can stand with ease holding on to furniture and people. It is only a matter of time before we are cruising around. Oh my how I need to finish baby-proofing. UGH. My monster is still finding humor in grossing us out with poops and the good ol' stinky feet jokes make him Guffaw like a mad man ( that's how he laughs. Like a husky mancub). Uncle Bam Bam is about the coolest guy ever, being Aidans wrestling buddy and getting swift right hooks to the nose ( causing red marks and seeing stars sometimes). The newest thing is a fake smile. I am serious. If you look at newer pics of him you will see every so often a fake smile!!! A " yeah, it just wasn't that funny, but you seem to want me to smile" smile. What the crap?! Did not know that kids learn to humor us so very young. I find it belittling.

*Pause* We interrupt this post for a few hour intermission due to a hungry Grandpa who wants to "kick my a$$" on the new Wii. His words exactly. Archery is his new game of choice and don't play him. He will dominate you and ruin your self esteem.

OK, back to being wordy. So, where was I.............................. ah yes. The baby kid. I could really go on for days about him. But the latest events are holiday related so I will use those. For Baby's First Christmas he made out like a bandit with cute outfits from Yaya and lot's of toys ( brain developing learny stuff of course) from me and the most award winning two thumbs up of all gifts, from sis. A glow worm-esque Seahorse that has a soft amber lit tummy and plays very soothing melodies as he drifts off to nappy nap time. It is adorned with Tag-like silk fins that he rubs on his nose and is so plushy and snuggly that he took to it instantly. Thus abandoning the very stupidly expensive "mobile" thing that clamps on to the side of the crib and plays music while clunking loudly through supposedly soothing motions ( more like creepy precursor to being afraid of the anamatronics at Chuck-E-Cheese motions). Anyone wanna buy it? hehehe.

The boy also says word like things now. I would like to say I am not super envious, but that would be a major lie and a half. Dada is the trend. And not everything is Dada. Just Dada. So I think it is safe to assume the kid said a word. He also leans toward the puppy and says Dog-dog-dog-dog......over and over and over. So I guess Penny is a dog. But Baccus is just a Baccus. Which seems much harder to say. I am glad he chose to simply call Penny a Dog instead of all the add-ons I use. Stupid Dog, Damn dog ect. As she has been having trouble leaving socks and underwear IN the laundry basket. Though helpful as it is that she brings it out to the living room and hands it to me, I need no assistance from a dog-dog-dog. Especially when I have guests over. And especially when it's underwear. Grrr.

I guess I need to watch what I say now more than ever. That aught to be fun. I am already practicing the old " If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" bit lately. Which is making me feel less bitter ( bet you noticed that it's left me with a lot less to say eh?). Because part of my resolution for this coming year is to let go of the things I cannot change. Due to the current whirlwind of events that have changed my life ( mostly for the better) with or without my consent, I have come to the realization that life does not ask permission to do what it damn well pleases with you. So sit back and enjoy the good stuff and stop bracing yourself for the bad. Just block out the negative with sunshine and rainbows. And besides, I am only in control of my own joy so why not just be happy, even in a shit storm, and let anyone who wants to judge just sit in confusion instead.

More later. Happy New Year ya'll. Much love.

Doctors orders.

2010-11-10T12:28:00.000-08:00

Have you ever actually laughed at a doctor? Not like later when you think over the visit details. Like laughed in their face? Yeah. I looked like a maniac as I chuckled to the doctor through tears. She was telling me I need ME time. HA!! No kidding, really? Wow! I had not thought of that. Can you prescribe more hours in a day please? I know. I sound rude. But seriously. How on earth am I supposed to squeeze ME time out of my full day? I have a teething 5 month old ( today he is 5 months!! crazy how time flies and stands still all at once) with a sleeping bi polar situation, a husband who works full time and my Daddy who lives with us and has normal needs of meals and errands. Who is this ME character and who the hell does she think she is asking for any time?

Let me rewind a tad. I have been having migraines for the last few weeks. No joke. Like every friggen hour of every day. So I finally go see our new family doc ( who is pretty cool thus far with the exception of not telling me HOW to find the elusive ME time. Darn asian doctors. So very Karate Kid about everything. Tell me what I need but make me do all the work to get there) and she tells me I have some pretty serious tension that is back, neck and head related. And that this tension had progressed into full on migraines. Yay!!! I was pretty sure I was going blind and would need glasses ( which may still be the case but one thing at a time people, I hate doctors. Now I can put off the optometrist for a little while). Anyhow she gives me the rundown on how we're gonna fix my head. "Take this at night...blah blah blah....and then this if your pain is at a 10....yeah .....blah blah......and take at least 30 minutes to an hour preferably to get out and walk or do something for you( grasshoppa)." Bwaahahahahaahhah!!! Hmm. ok. Can you change my husbands work shift so he comes home before I have to make dinner? Oh, you can't. hmmm ok Can you send me a Nanny 5 days a week for one hour a day? Oh, I understand. yeah, I got nothin.

Whatever. It was a really nice gesture and all but I think the drugs will have to do for now. I am not in fact a Kardashian or a Kendra or a Beckham Momma who can kick off her christian louboutin heels () and tell one of many assistants that I am off for a facial, massage and a nap. In fact I am holding my son while I type this because I looked back and realized I was slowly falling off as a blogger mom ( I glanced at my number of posts monthly and saw them getting lower and lower. No bueno). Aidan tries to smash the keyboard now and then which is great if you want to have crazy issues with side toolbars and random italic moments you didn't ask for. Thanks booger.

My point is that it's super easy for others to say I have to take me time. It is ridiculously hard to in fact do so. So that appointment made me laugh a bit. But I did get a referral to PT for my neck tension. Which I hope is doctor speak for smashing the heck out of my back and neck till it feels way better. Let's face it. Mommy is almost a hunchback.

Happy 5 months Baby Booger!!! I celebrated this milestone a week or so early and got him these.

Why did I post a pink one, you ask? Because when you find things on Amazon and they're a really great deal and it states " colors may vary" it means you'll end up with a pink one. Eh, one out of three aint bad. It will be his "I'm ok with my baby-manliness bottle for at home ONLY" so my husband/brother/father wont freak out. Survey says ( drumroll please) they are AWESOME. A whole lot of thumbs up on these NUBY brand wide mouth 10 oz bottles with handles. Still a great nipple as far as air and gas goes. And also a no-spill nipple even!! Really cool indeed. And the added bonus is that they perfect for what he wanted to do. Hold his own bottle. He just couldn't get that left hand to open up big and prop the regular bottle. Since he has a Chuck Norris death grip, this is the ticket. He has already mastered putting it back into his mouth after removing it for a break.

On that note I will leave you with my new fun thing. Mommy word of the day.

Verp; To burp and vomit at the same time. Babies do this all the time. Mine just did, thus this end note. And I am off to change my shirt.

a little grrrr with my coffee

2010-10-28T10:36:00.000-07:00

WARNING
This post is offensive, opinionated, and pissed off. If you feel you may be affected negatively by the following statement, you should probably skip this post and wait for the next one with your fingers crossed that it's contents are more crowd pleasing. Furthermore if you expected less from me you should not follow this blog. I know a few folks who will disagree with the following words and I also know I have a few friends who mildly fall into the categories that I am about to complain about. You know damn well I am not talking about you so don't cry. And here we go.

I watched something that appalled me once again. And reminded me why I do what I do. Opened up a whole can off strong feelings that of course I then dwell on which often generates a new blog post. Kind of how this whole thing works really. I am talking about the evils of television. And yes I am aware that this is coming from the new mom that has DVR'ed every episode of Yo Gabba Gabba because the baby enjoys it. I am also a person that has serious issues with CSI being on when that baby is in the room because I have a sneaking suspicion that it would make him a criminal or derange him in some way with all it's gore. This is called Age Appropriate TV censoring, just fyi. I have always had protesting views when it comes to what the now 8 yr old watches. I am pretty strict with it because the other one ( and I do not mean my husband) is so stupidly relaxed on the topic. Should an 8 yr old ( or 6 yr old when this was first an issue) watch Family Guy? Let's think about that ( we shouldn't have to but let's) for a moment. Do you want your child going to school and quoting ANYTHING from that show? Really. Because I would rather not have a teacher call and say " Hello, I am calling because your child told a teacher they were a stupid gay". Or worse honestly. I am being mild as far as the content of that show goes. I am also a person that believes you should protect your child from violent content in movies because it advances their fears too young and if your child is smart enough to have adult topics register, do you really want to start answering those tough questions now? That is why ratings are in place you frikken morons!!!!!! Not because some fat lazy nerdy asshole is arbitrarily picking random ages to slap on to movies for his sheer enjoyment while shoves a fistful of Cheetos into his laughing face. Doctors and Child Development professionals make up the rating teams that are educated and attempt to save your children from overexposure. That being said, I know there are kids who can "handle" some content earlier than others and not breathe life into movie scenarios as they drift off to sleep. I do not have one of these.

I was watching a stupid report about how television is NOT that influential. How retarded can they be. Television babysits so many American children of all ages. How on earth can they say that. I suppose they might not see what quality programing is being cranked out these days ( I mean have they seen Jersey Shore?). Or perhaps they have been cryogenicly frozen up to the very moment they opened their idiot mouth thus assuming Happy Days and/or Brady Bunch is still what is on the latch key kid boob tube. There are so many shows geared toward mind numbing adult entertainment and you have to wonder if these fools understand that children on their own do not just watch Nickelodeon and Disney. Without guidance they watch Gossip Girl, The Hills, Twilight, ect. ( this list could go on and on. These I chose from the ones reported by the 8 yr old ). Not to mention that parents who do not separate child time and adult time are selfish and blind. Have fun telling your daughter she can't dress like a hooker or have an eating disorder at 17 when you sit and adore slutty outfits and anorexic body types with her like bff's when she is not in double digits yet. It's called setting an example and being the parent. It's also doing what's right by your child and having grown up time after the kid is in bed at night. Do we forget what it was like when all the "grown up shows" were on after our bed time? And we used to just beg to watch Simpsons? *sigh*

My awesome soapbox rant could go on for days. I yearn for days of simple cartoons and literally jumped for joy when Fraggle Rock appeared on the TV guide. Now I record all the oldies and goodies for Hal and hope she adopts a force field to block out the shit I can't censor when she isn't in front of our TV. And I am off to watch Chelsea Lately. You know why? BECAUSE MY KID IS ASLEEP. And I record grown up shows for grown up times. Like a grown up should.

ok, I am done now.

Things I know now that I didn't then

2010-10-26T08:56:00.000-07:00

Wedding cake kept for one year and then shared on our anniversary does not in fact taste good. At all. Not even a little.

A five year bottle of deep red wine given as a gift at the wedding and savored on the anniversary, is amazing.

When you have sleep deprivation you start to lose your hair and gain weight! Not ok!!!

Just as all hope was thought to be lost, the child slept through the night. ( a major MAJOR sun rays through the clouds, Amen! Hallelujah! moment with a full on choir singing!!) I really started thinking I was doing something wrong to encourage this nocturnal garbage. It was not me. It was him. Wheeew.

Cat naps are stupid and annoying fake outs and are not real sleep.

It is cute the first time the baby blows raspberries while eating smushed carrots( laughing only encourages this). And now it is SO not cute for every fruit and veggie being fed. Airborne smushed foods are gross.

Aidan blowing raspberries and spit bubbles is funny when it is used in place of words. Growling as a response is hilarious. Screaming, not so good. Let's go back to growling. Less messy and quieter than the other options.

I really enjoy being the age that says "OMIGOODNESS YAY!!!!" when a friend confides a pregnancy and not "oh wow, are you going to be ok?". Now an oopsy daisy is a blessing and heck, the parenthood club is pretty awesome.

I am finally annoyed at being a single car household. Ugh.

Once you get pregnant once I think you "nest" forever after.

I am having a really hard time hanging out with the "one upper" group of moms ( I wrote about these types a while back in the preggo days. They still annoy me). I don't really need to be "out mommed" and I don't really care to hear how your kid does everything better and quicker and cooler than my kid. Thanks.

Ok, I am going to be an A-hole for saying this. But seriously, not all babies are cute ( you know you agree with me stop with the looks). I know that I am one lucky son of a gun for getting a frikken Gerber baby out of the deal. And when I see a stroller carrying a crazy troll goblin( I hope for that kids sake she is a swan and gets all hot and gorgeous after high school. poor thing), I go home and smooch my sweet prince and thank my lucky stars.

I am still too blunt, too honest, give all kinds of excellent advice ( most of which I struggle to follow myself) and I cannot lie or keep a damn secret from someone I love to save my soul ( I ruined a really great Christmas surprise wayyyyyy in advance.) There goes my sneaky, shy alter ego I was looking into. LOL!

A lot of people have given me crap about not coming up with an unusual name for my son. It started to get to me. And after watching him play and be evil I understood that I helped him by choosing something simple. He is going to be a little rough and tumble smart-aleck turd. This will be easier to deal with for his teachers with a kind calm name like Aidan. Yet it means "little fire". And really he couldn't have been a Liam or Logan or Gage. Just doesn't fit.

Being a homeowner is so totally fantastic!!! It makes me want to upgrade and change things so bad ( when I watch HGTV I want them to come remodel my kitchen or bathroom, or decorate my living room). But then I look around and everything is really fine the way it is and let's face it, I am lazy these days.

A new pair of boots makes me feel like a millionaire. And it put all my other old or cheap-o shoes to shame. So now I am fixated on upgrading my shoes ( and downsizing substantially. That was the deal made with the husband).

I miss poker so badly that we now have family poker night starting. We don't mess around. Full on felt table top and clay chips baby. Gimme all yer money!

More to come but I hear growling over the monitor ( btw, any mom who claims they don't hate/loathe that damn thing is a lying fool). Asta!!

15 minutes of quiet

2010-10-03T10:43:00.000-07:00

Every Mom knows that when that baby is sleeping you should either be sleeping or showering. Well, since he fell asleep on the recliner and can roll, I will do neither. I will blog. And I have a handful of things to catch ya'll up on. Aidan is now a screamer. Happy, sad, mad, hungry, just screaming. It is hell and I hate it. I thought I had sensitive ears before. Yeah, right. This kid hits notes that make birds fall from the sky and the dog whimper. Sometimes when I run to his aid he just looks up, mid squeal, and grins. And I feel duped. It is infuriating. The maddest I have been at him. I cannot wait till he stops this phase. I would rather he go back to growling at everything and everyone. It's quieter!!!!!! And the dog enjoyed that.

Aidan has had his first fruits!!! Yay!! They are like baby crack however, and my adorable hubby now realizes why feeding pears at 8pm is a bad plan. Aidan was bouncing off the walls squaling happily for a while before we could settle him down for the night. Kind of funny lesson at least. The wee one likes apples, pears and nanners (he does not get that from me because I loathe bananas). He gets a little impatient and groans, mouth wide open and scowling, when he feels he is not being fed fast enough. I love that. He might as well just point to his mouth hole and grunt like a caveman.

Super fun awesome fun thing that I get to do. I volunteered for an Art Lit program at the 8 yr olds school. It is monthly and planned out and each class has a Mom or Dad that teaches it. Needless to say Hal is excited ( might be an understatement because she keeps bringing it up which makes me want to burst with happiness). I love Art and if I can share something I am good at with Hal's peers and also make her proud to have the parent chosen to teach it, that is a serious win win for me.

I am off now to get ready for Aidan's first playdate with other babies. Should be fun if he doesn't scream the whole time. Please pray for that. Wish me luck.

stop, collaborate and listen...................

2010-09-26T16:37:00.000-07:00

I got a wee bit nostalgic this weekend as I sorted through some old boxes that had been at my Dads place for the last ten years. The crazy stuff that I so adultly "out grew" yet didn't throw out. I am talking strange funnies. A box of Troll dolls. A collection of turtles ( at one point in my life....ok, for a long portion of my life I LOVED turtles and all things turtle-y). So I have a huge box of anything shaped like a turtle of any turtle character including but not only, the turtle from Super Mario that has wings, Ninja Turtles of all sizes, Glo-worm brand Turtle, Beanie Baby turtles, ones carved from stone, ones with a bobble head from Mexico.... the list is endless( in this box randomly was also VHS tape of Lethal Weapon 2). A few porcelain dolls that I did not collect but were collected for me even though anyone who knows me knows I was not a "doll" child. A Kermit the Frog doll ( it's not easy being green) that I promptly put in Aidan's room because it is awesome. My blankie ( you wanna make somethin of it?). A tin of love letters I wrote but never sent to any boy I ever had any crush on since the 4th grade. Weird memorabilia from when I went to Japan and behaved like a tourist and bought anything "foreignly cool" ( only to find out Aqua, with the hit Barbie Girl, was as popular if not more so in the US and totally lost faith in our music taste). I found said CD as well. 5 boxes of crap later I have only weeded out a handful of things that are now in the trash and found that I apparently save everything based on sentimental value. What a sap!! And now I have a few condensed boxes of stuff I am for some reason, not willing to give away or throw away but I don't want it out on display in my home and I am sad it is taking up storage space. Luckily this house is fantastic and there are places I can tuck these few stupidly cherished boxes until I am older still and want another laugh at my silly crap.

Which brings me to the best part. I LOVE MY HOUSE!!!!!!!!! This place has everything and is the very perfect size for our ( done growing) family. Aidan has his own room and the super daughter has her own room and my room is big and I have my own bathroom attached ( from which I can streak naked to my bedroom to find clothes and not mortify anyone including me. Doesn't happen often but you know you've been there). We are settling in rather nicely and there have only been a few downer moments to taint the sheer joy and success of buying a home. The first is sad. Our beloved dog Maggie and her three handsome pups were taken from us by Parvo*. We lost all four in 48 hours time, on my husbands birthday and then had to tell my step kiddo on her birthday two days later. Horrendous. We do have our tough handsome boy doggie who is still ok and healthy, but it left a major hole in our household dynamic for sure. She will be missed most by my husband who doted on her like royalty and could never tell her no even when she was naughty. *sigh* Secondly ( this one is better. lighten the mood back up) Voldemort came to see the place. DUN DUN DUNNNNNNN! And what a fun visit it was ( I wish I had a font that would literally drip when I type in the word sarcasm. get it?). Hands clutching her purse as though she worried it would be stolen, she hesitantly followed Hal around the house to please the child. Her new boyfriend in tow. He seems fantastically nice. Irony. Anyhow Hal was so excited to show off her new room and her brothers room and her backyard which contained her own personal sunflower exactly her height ( all the very important things for an 8 year old). With her aftermarket nose turned up in distaste and discomfort Voldemort walked uncomfortably from room to room. Snide comments tucked in here and there with false naivety and innocence. I bit my tongue only offering very little conversation because I do believe (in front of the child) "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" ( at least audibly). Anyhow she left quickly, boy toy in tow after hastily ridding herself of the child and I felt like my house was back to normal. Though even having her in my home is unsettling because of all the judging in the air. I chopped brussel sprouts as though they had to be punished and allowed that to be my outlet. The night then went back to normal and all was well.

The house, as I said, is fantastic. My Dad agreed to come live with us in the split level basement ( which has a bedroom, living room, and a cute kitchen AND bathroom with a shower) and teach the girl how to play guitar while they work on the song they are writing together. So great.

Life is good. A few snags and snafus, but life is again, good.

* A nasty virus that is extremely fatal if contracted by dogs under 2 yrs of age. And sometimes even dogs with their first set of shots are not strong enough to fight it off. Quick yet painful.

Rave Reviews?

2010-09-23T08:57:00.000-07:00

The little monster is mobile. And just as everyone said, I would regret wishing he was. But not for the normal reasons a mom might hate it. I dislike that my child is intense when it comes to discovering and mastering a new skill. He has angry determination that is hard to watch. When he first attempted rolling over he was a growling demon and got very frustrated that he couldn't just do it. After he accomplished rolling back to front ( which confused me because I thought babies were supposed to learn front to back first. oh well) he looked around like " I did it!" and then quit trying to repeat the success. He had a huge pause and now rolling over and over is his mode of getting from point A to point B. Now that the motion has a purpose ( other than freaking me out when I find him face down in the crib) he will use it . Now he is struggling with the crawling thing. His legs can push him along just fine. But his little wimpy T-rex arms are not following instructions. So he often scoots along the floor grumbling and growling. Kinda mashing his face into the carpet. Really funny to watch until he starts squalling about it. And then I get to pick carpet lint off his drooly little face and try not to laugh when he looks all red cheeked and annoyed. I started looking for bouncer type sitty* things with activity tables and the like, only to find a few small issues that made me frown. For one, my very favorite doorway bouncy bungee thing is only going to work in the hallway because we lack kitchen door jams. BOO! That's where I need him playing while I do stuff. And a bunch of the wobble sitty things have this fun message for me to read:

Do you see my dilemma here? Oh, I didn't mention it before? Yeah, Aidan is 19 lbs!!!!!! So he'd be able to use some of these for like, I dunno, five minutes. DAMNIT!!!! Back to the online shopping for jumbo-tron play stuff. Then I thought to myself " Self, Why the heck don't I just invent a line of toys and activity centers for chubby babies? I would be a millionaire." All those with big huge babies, raise you hands if you'd buy such products. I thought so. Because as much as we love the little rolly poly kids, carrying them around all day can be taxing on the back, neck, shoulders, knees.......................I could name every body part people, you get the point. And these wee ones need stuff to do too. Gotta shape their minds.

So back to the browsing I go. Hopefully by this weekend I will have found a suitable sitty fun center thingy. Wish me luck.

* Yes I know sitty is not a word. Have you not found my word inventions just fabulous? No? Well then you are stupid. I am not illiterate, I am creative.

Be the change you wish to see in your baby

2010-09-15T10:34:00.000-07:00

After I noticed that these "cat-naps" are doing little or nothing for my chunky child, I did what I always do. I turn to some online forum and snoop through other parents gripes and complaints. Mainly this is to feel normal. But it also lends itself as a useful tool in boosting my self esteem. I often read a post from someone, lets call her Mom A, about their struggles with a behavior. Mom A gets and answer from Mom B. Then Mom C chimes in. As they all chat it out and after many many posts and replies, come to a conclusion as to why Mom A is having problems, I find that I am doing the right things in order to prevent this issue with my own kid. Without enlisting crazy knowledge from Mom A-Z ( I have my own team of experts that I have personally watched raise their own broods of angels and demons. And I bother them via email instead). So I have been perusing child rearing websites about sleep Q&A. My kid has a nap pattern but lately it is a tiny nap here and a longer one there. I let him do his thing during the day based on activity or being out and about and stay on one track for night sleep. I guess that is something I am doing right (kudos to me!!). But (rather large but ) I have to constantly remind myself that just because he is the size of a 6 month old (almost 19 lbs!!!) and he is eating like a 6 month old, that does not in any way mean he is sleeping like a 6 month old. The giant 3 month babe is going to bed around 9 and has a whole range of night patterns depending on digestion or wetness ( He is anti cold. So any wetness quickly becomes a cold annoyance). I thought I was going to need a straight jacket when my husband took the reins for the first time at night a few nights ago ( I was nearing the cracking point with sleep deprivation again after really feeling like I had started to get a handle on dealing with it). Daddy duty worried me. I have systems and methods and blah blah blah. The little jerk woke once in the middle of the night and then slept through till 6am. How rude. Though he peed through every stitch of fabric in his vicinity and Daddy had to change all bedding and the boy ( attempting to do so in the dark like Mommy does was unsuccessful). By the time he finished this project Aidan was fully awake and ready to party. And it did take a while to get the kid back down to sleep. But ONE wake up??? For the love of Pete. I thought about this a lot the days following. "Am I doing something wrong?" I asked myself. "How on earth can an Aidan novice jump in and do better than me?" I puzzled. Beginners luck I decided. :) I kid, but really it was bothering me a bit. I really had to be logical instead of taking it to heart so deeply. There were nights that I had has this type of luck too. These were very few and far between, but they did exist ( they were becoming more and more like a unicorn though. Something you dream about and you might swear you've seen a glimpse of, yet you are told are make believe). Kelly had just won the Dad lottery that night and I should look on the bright side. Had it been a typical diaper and bottle rodeo, perhaps he'd think twice about wanting to help me again.

I have read that this will change and that my wee prince will sleep through the night. I will believe it when I see it. There are some gold stars to be awarded though even with the feeling of colossal failure surrounding the night time. First, Aidan sleeps in his crib all night ( I have stuck to my original guns about him sleeping with us and then continuing to do so till he is 40). Second, I feed and change him in the dark ( actually by the light of a dim nightlight that is super awesome and I wrote about it already way back around baby shower time). Third, I don't go to him until he really cries, not just for every little fuss. Fourth, sometimes I put him to bed tired but not asleep and I make him do the work. And fifth, he has a fairly consistent bedtime and an automatic wake up ( and by that I mean won't go back to sleep to save his soul) time. So at least I have those going for me. What happens between 9pm and 6 am varies greatly. But according to Mom A, B and C it's normal. I am just working toward a goal and letting him lead with needs. I guess that's all I can do for now. Just count the little successes and add them up to feel proud. Especially when there are big daunting frustrations that feel like roadblocks in development. Every kid is different ( my husband is feeling this pretty heavy after having a little girl that was a joy at night and not this evil by a mile). We could have it so much worse in so many other areas with Aidan. It's really not that bad. As long as I get a nap in here and there.

unpretty experiment

2010-09-11T11:56:00.000-07:00

I was washing my face last night and had a very serious moment with myself. I gazed into my haggard reflection and wondered "How on earth did I get to this state of not good looking?". That may sound vain to you. But I am being kind when I say "not good looking". I am a mess I discovered. Between buying a house, having a baby, caring for said baby ( including these nights from hell that will not end) and moving I think I lost my Give-a-damn. I would really like to find it now though because I am wanting to return to the land of the living and this hot mess I have become just wont suffice. I refuse to look like I crawled out of a cave the first happy hour I attend. My poor sad grey roots are in full affect ( don't start with me, I have had them since I was 20 and I blame my mother and stress). The dark circles under my eyes are massive. I have never been one to really spend money or time on manicures, but I think that may be the only answer to these cracked, dry and neglected hands. I may or may not have a permanent hunchback. These pores are insane!!! Lately I am beginning to sound like Eeyore when I start a "why bother" tangent about my appearance ( sounding like Eeyore but looking like a deranged serial killer is an odd mix). The slippery slope of disheveled has become more and more treacherous and the task at hand is a bit much more than a one day recovery.

I'd like to think this has actually been a science experiment to see how far I can let myself go before I snap. Maybe it was ( I would like it to be past tense from here on out) just a test of will. Now I can make fun of myself and get back to normal. Toss on some coverup and chapstick when I check the mail as not to alienate the brand new neighbors. You know, little things. Baby steps.

I vow to stop this madness. I shall not remain the doppelganger of Charlize Theron's character in Monster. I will brush my hair. Going for walks outdoors is now mandatory. If I force myself out into public I will probably throw on something decent thus changing out of pajamas ( man is that an easy habit to form and a hard one to break).

Seeing now that I was starting to become "that mom" I apologize. Uggs, lounge pants and t-shirts with Super Mario on them are not a fashionable way to greet the cable guy. A baby is not the only accessory I own, and the sun should not hurt my eyes. Back to reality people. My bad indeed.

the world has gone mad

2010-09-07T08:13:00.000-07:00

ok. So it's been a long time since I got all agro (aggravated) about something little and stupid. And normally my favorite things to wig out about are those that are so stupid that I am shocked at human kind and MUST post about my outrage. This is one such event.

As we were moving (YES we got the house and moved and long story short about that, it was a nightmare as moving always is. My husband is now a withered waste of a man having used all of his brut strength. But the house rocks.) we became aware that the girls fish was dying. Super sad and her tender little heart was breaking audibly. Knowing it would be the end of the world as we know it if we lost more than one fish in the tank, my husband and I carefully scooped everyone into individual containers for the move and got the tank loaded in record time. We hop in the car and beeline for a local enormous chain type pet store. I am a bit of a nerd ( ok, major super fish nerd. I heart fish ok.) and I knew what the fish had died from and wanted to prevent a tank wide outbreak by dosing the colony with the ever-ready commonly popular blue medicine that anyone who is anyone who has ever had a fish has used. It is in fact the only junk that cures ick ( a cloudy fluffy outer scale infection of the fungal kind that quickly covers a fish and renders him floaty) and it is often simply named things like "rid-ick" or "Ick-B-Gone". I get to the store and swoop into the fish area combing the medication only to find there are no such products. I must be blind or they must just have it elsewhere I assumed. I was in a hurry so I became that jerk who butts into the line of moms and little children who are only going to tell the clerk "We are just looking at the fishies" when he gets to them anyways. I am having a fish emergency people! The clerk is so stereotypical I can't stand it but I waste no time chuckling. I ask for the product by name and he smiles and tells me the have pulled ALL blue ick meds off the market. WHAT THE DEUCE!!! I laugh and think it must be nerd humor. Nope. He says that people were using it to get high. That's where it all goes crazy for me. I seriously said to him " Are you frikken shitting me?" He says no and goes in to point out herbal remedies made from garlic and west African tree roots. ARG!!!! I neeeeeeeeed the blue crap. It is the only thing that works. And not to mention that Ick is the simplest fish sickness. It should have a standard cure. And it did before stupid idiot crack head America started getting stoned on it.

Here is my questions of the day ( I had to go back and make it plural because I started rattling off so many). How absolutely hard up for drugs do you have to be to raid your fish tank supplies? Even better, how many different tank fluids did you have to ingest before one worked? Any science minded person could probably figure that at least one chemical under that treasure trove for a junky would have some upper or downer effect, but I think it is safe to assume that people science minded enough to know this probably aren't the ones gulping down Ick medicine. Jackass crack heads ruin another perfectly good and useful product for the rest of us. And thanks a lot government for pulling the product instead of trying another prevention method ( I dunno about adding it to the school "don't do drugs" programs but hey whatever). Now if my poor kids fish die what do I say? Perhaps " I am so sorry sweetie, but crack heads and a crazy government teamed up to kill your fish." I think that will work.

On a lighter note. She had her first day of school today. And she was "out of bed" at 6 am!!! Lord only knows when her eyes opened or how long she laid there with first day butterflies. So cute. She was dressed and ready and totally full of gusto when I got out of bed. And she practically floated out the door to the car. I seriously cannot wait for the report on the day. Her outfit was perfect so I am sure she'll knock it out of the park with a stellar first impression ( that and I taught her how to zip her lip for the first week and let all the other chatty kids get busted. Then she'll look like the good one).

Today's adventures

2010-08-28T21:43:00.000-07:00

Up too early to be productive.
Baby is in an excellent mood.
Husband in an even better mood.
Collected keys to our new home.
Thought dawns on me that we have to move in like five days.
Like, be OUT in five days.
Eff.
Pack like a mad woman.
Stop packing to assist the 7 year old with getting gum out of her hair.
Sneakily throw away all other gum.
Baby is a ticking time bomb and needs a nap.
Husband makes a zillion single car trips to the new house.
The kids fish doesn't look so good.
Have the talk about life and losing a pet.
Take the 7 year old to see her new room without telling her where we're going.
Screams of joy ensue.
Drop 7 year old at the grandparents.
Husband makes more trips back and forth.
I don't eat dinner till wayyyyy to late and turn into the devil.
Baby refuses to get sleepy and wants to party at 9pm.
Many phone calls pour in.
One is the 7 year old to check on her fish.
Fish has died.
Soothe the girl and promise a funeral tomorrow night.
Baby gets bored of my talking while rocking him and passes out.
I lay him down.
SIKE!!
He is awake.
ok...............He's out. Wheeeeeew.
I disassemble half of what we own to prep for tomorrow.
I box up strange items together that I know I will be looking for later and cuss.
Lose my cell phone in the chaos.
Try to call it from the home phone.
It dies.
*sigh*
While I am in this room I write this.
Husband will be back soon.
Wash my face, brush my teeth, and time for bed.

What a day.

Rollin' rollin' rollin'

2010-08-21T14:00:00.000-07:00

So in the comedy of all the poop nonsense I forgot that I was going to post about Aidan's awesome achievement. HE ROLLED OVER!! From back to front. Only one problem. He hasn't mastered front to back. I have heard from numerous Moms that front to back is easier to master. Which leaves me with a few thoughts. My kid is crazy and likes to challenge himself ( to the point of obsession and frustration and red faced mad crying). How funny that he doesn't care to keep doing it over and over now that he knows how. It was something he got in his head he had to do and now he isn't fixated anymore. And also the annoyed paranoia of him flipping over in his crib and sleeping face down ( which I have found to be the trend already when I retrieve him in the morning). Greeeeeaaaat. Something for me to get all weird about and lose more precious sleep at night over. I will feel better when he decides to master the roll front to back as well and then he can maneuver all over the place. On second thought I wont. Because that is very early mobility and that freaks the crap out of me. A kid that walks before having fear is doomed to be a battered looking child ( I know, I know, rolling doesn't mean walking. I am getting ahead of myself. But it's true damnit.) I remember the kids in my pre-school class that were stupidly brave and ran around all top heavy, leading with their noggins. Lots of ouchies and accident reports for sure. And you know I prayed they'd wear velcro shoes. I seriously had visions of treacherous shoe strings and don't even get me started on flip flops. Oi. I digress ( ha! don't I always? I think the name of this blog could simply be " I digress"). But really, back on track. He rolled over. And with a huge grin. Like " look mom, now you can worry. Yay!!!".

Another noteworthy note. I got a hair cut. :) My mother in law is amazing. She fixes my do for me when I am flipping out about how horrendous I look. But then ( she is going to read this and call me. lol) I got something in my hair that I couldn't identify. I thought it was candy or something because it was sticky. So not thinking very much about it and deciding to just take a shower and wash it out rather than really solve the mystery I put my hair in a pony tail ( mainly because Aidan needed tending to because gas was causing him to act possessed again, which is a drop-what-you-are-doing type of situation). Also immediately forgetting about it. Until after my shower. When I went to run a comb through it and almost ripped my head off. So I sat on the toilet seat with my head cocked at an awkward angle and a hand mirror balancing on my knees trying to snip out only the sticky strands ( as I cussed and really racked my brain trying to figure out if it could be sap, or painting medium, or ecto plasm....). Because they were in fact joined (for life like super glue) I had a few chunks on the right side that looked like strange choppy layers. Eeew. Not cute. So I did a little repair snipping and then I did a tiny bit to the other side as not to look lopsided. And if I do say so myself it's not hideous. I am going to have to apologize to my mother in law for ruining the haircut she just gave me not a week or so ago, but I think she will laugh and understand ( and might even be proud of my repair job).

In other news, Maggie and the puppies are doing wonderful. Little piglet noises from fat squirmy little guys with eyes not even open yet. I like to watch them smoosh around to find momma dog by smell. Very incredible GPS right there. Little homing devices built in. So flippin cute. I will try to remember how cute they are and conjure up this sweet moment in my mind when they are a tad older and crapping all over my house ( I wont even mention the chewing that is possible because if it starts they are out on their cute fuzzy arses to find a new home.*groan* Dear Peta, I am not really going to throw them outside before they are weaned, I promise.).

What's grosser then gross?

2010-08-20T11:15:00.000-07:00

As I sit here laughing out loud at the contradiction of eating 4 thick peices of peppered bacon after learning I am down 40lbs from having Aidan, I wonder how I am able to eat at all. This morning was catastrophic to say it nicely. Miss Maggie in all her mother dog glory had just about the most splatterrifc accident at about 3 am. Oh wait, my mistake. Accidents! Plural. It looked like a peanut butter food fight all over the kitchen floor. ALL over. And after really pondering the idea of leaving it for Kelly to clean up before he logged in to work from home today, I just did it myself ( because the thought of it may be funny, but hearing him gripe pre-coffee about having to do it is not). My baby and the dog babies took this as the time to begin whining and shrieking in unison. Like a messed up multi-species all boy choir from hell. Oh the joy. I was just done cleaning up mess number 1 ( more like 1 through 15 due to the area coverage) when poor Mags had another blowout with a shameful look on her face like " I am really sorry about all this". Uggh. Worse than the first. *sigh* It's like she heard me asking Aidan to "Poop and your tummy will feel better" and she decided that also applied to her. Next time I will be more specific with my requests.

That was a full on riot good time compared to the indecisive boy who wanted to space out feedings and dirty diapers about every half hour to ensure I had juuuuuuust fallen back to sleep before waking me with a fuss. Needless to say when the husband decided to drag himself from bed I was disgruntled on the sofa, coffee in hand, wide awake and Aidan, making me look like a liar, was out cold in the bouncy seat after hours of fussing and talking to himself ( he sounded like he was telling of the cast of Yo Gabba Gabba. Musta been a bad dancy dance with Jack Black again). Haggard as I may be sleep is always out of the question after nights like this. I wanted to hug and kill my husband all at the same time ( death by hug maybe? hmmm) because my nocturnal life sucks big time. And I remind myself that I need him to do stuff for me and I can't kill him. Hehehe. So I just enjoy his company while story telling the gruesome Hazmat scene to him and my bitterness fades. Though I do get a very fair eye roll in as he tells me he slept poorly because of all the noise( it was roll my eyes, or Finish Him Mortal Combat style). Ha!!!

After all that so very early. I am now devouring some breakfast and bouncing a babbling boy on my knee. Who smells as though I finally got my original request. Ah. It never ceases to amaze me. This whole Mom thing. I may just eat later.

How to drive yourself insane

2010-08-19T17:22:00.000-07:00

Step one: Plan to get married and then when you are totally scheduled and planned and fit into your dress perfect, find out you are pregnant a week before the wedding.

Step two: While you are pregnant, do anything you can to add to your already complicated life. Like for instance, buy a house.

Step three: Give birth and try to close on said house the same day. It's called multi-tasking.

Step three: Try to balance the baby ( sleep deprivation looks good on you) and the house and also assist with the "girly" side of parenting a 7 yr old. ( While attempting to not step on the bio-moms toes. Riiiiiight.)

Step four: Care for Daddy who is a stress mess about the house stuff (which is always in a "pending" state I swear!!) and not even the baby daddy. I mean Grandpa.

Step five: Somewhere in there turn 30 and then have a mini melt down about it over a month later.

Step six: Have an emergency birth of puppies ( that were conceived while you were giving birth to your very own kiddo. Smooth move on that timing) and rush Momma dog to the vet in a hasty panic.

Step seven: Enter Landlord stage left with new tenants coming in on the first. Lease signed and all. P.S. he wants you to revamp the yard for them as he'll be in Italy. (Say what?)

Last step( so far): Stand back and admire the chaos. Holy crap. How did I get here.

That is a re-hash of the last 10 months. Crazy eh? Yeah I know, I do what I can. I think I am one "urgent" phone call away from a heart attack. And I am in dire need of a happy hour filled with Martinis and Lemon Drops. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger right? .......RIGHT? Ok.

More tomorrow. I swear. I just had to vent and recap. I am one glutton for punishment. Sheesh

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was brought to my attention that I listed two Step Threes. I am leaving it that way as an example of my point. And thanks you Beecher for pointing out my error. I did in fact LOL.

super trooper

2010-08-14T09:10:00.000-07:00

Team Feltus went to the pediatrician yesterday for the 2 month check up. I, being a little neurotic about a few childhood issues I had, listed my concerns about ear infections and such to our Doc. The wee one has no sign of any health problems. In fact, he is little Mr. 95th percentile in height and weight. Not that I was really surprised to learn that. He is a giant baby ( High five to anyone who just pictured me walking a giant troll baby with a diaper on towering over everything. I did.). More often then not I have to politely let people know he isn't 3 months or older as they guess away. The looks I get are pretty funny and range from shocked to confused. "Yes, he is a big boy." "No, really. He is 2 months. As of last Thursday." "Nope. Not feeding him steroids." It is interesting what quips come out. The fun part is trying to dodge strangers when they begin epic tales of their children ( mostly grown and leaving said individual with "empty nest syndrome" thus making me a dump zone of their verbal diarrhea). Not to say I don't care WHEN IT'S SOMEONE I KNOW. Those of you know I love you and your children and find your stories funny. Because I KNOW YOU. It's the crazy lonely old bat at Red Robin that yells "HEY! HEY! When my daughter, blah blah blah yaddah yadda woohoopoopoo............." ( I stopped listening when I realized she wasn't calling over to tell me I dropped a binky on the floor or something actually helpful or important) that I don't care to chat with. I mean seriously. I am not the most approachable person when trying to eat for starters (Advice:never get between me and food). And interrupting quality time with my Dad and Husband is just plain rude. Not to mention that I didn't say hello or even make eye contact with this lady. So why the crap does she strike up conversation as though we are old pals? After getting trapped at the store while a cashier cooed and Aidan and rambled on as she held my receipt hostage, I practiced evasive tactics like there was going to be a test with a punishment if I failed ( the punishment would have been the gauntlet of old nanny goats working at Fred Meyer that I have to bob and weave through with my head down hoping my kid doesn't giggle or make eye contact which would cause them to flock to us as I run for the door).

Anywho. The Dr visit went fantastic. Even the immunization part at the end (where doc gets to be Mr. Nice Guy and ditch out as the calm nurse gets to be the hated stabber). Aidan screamed for just a couple minutes and then silent lip quiver for a few more seconds followed by hugs from Daddy and the some clinging to the Momma ( after my stomach settled from the thought of needles stabbing my poor baby) and a couple smiles even. What a great kid. He really didn't fuss too much through the night even with a little temp ( could have been the 97 degree weather that did not cool even a skosh it seemed, till about 2 am). And this morning he woke up and snuggled with me (and tried to punch and kick Daddy awake. hehehe) like nothing traumatic happened yesterday at all. *sigh* Thank goodness for the memory capacity of a 2 month old.

Off to Baby's R Us. Because it's one of the only places where no one cares how cute your kid is. Either they have seen 786 of them this week and are desensitized to cute due to employment there, or they are dog tired and toting one around themselves. It's like a reprieve for us moms with insanely cute babies. I mean really, it can be overwhelming pushing around all that adorableness. Quite draining. :) I joke but it is nice there because it's a common baby-momma-mecca. Like Target ( but Target has yahoos that come over and want to touch the kiddo. And that makes me all slappity).

do these shoes make me look fat?

2010-08-04T11:58:00.000-07:00

When I am not feeling my fittest I start to do the freak out thing. That's where I begin a personal overhaul that doesn't include working on the issue that is annoying me so badly. It is ridiculous but inevitable and predictable. I start to shoe shop (because no matter how un-awesome you feel, new shoes aid in that "retail therapy" way). Then I obsess about my hair for a couple of weeks untilI can't stand the sight of it. I search celebrity locks for something to drool at. The first choices are always extreme and not even remotely anything I could pull off. The second batch of looks may be either the total opposite end of the spectrum in both style and color, or drastically different in length, depending on what exactly is getting under my skin when looking at my own head. Lastly, I find one thing I really like out of the over-the-top choices and tone it down from celebrity to realistic. I usually put my plan in action by taking matters into my own hands ( which really means trial and error with disaster and a handful of trips back to the grocery store, often wearing a hat, to hit up the boxes of Clairol color). After finding the lesser of the evil red hues (never fails no matter what tones I choose) I wrestle with the moral conflict of having spent twice the amount of a salon colorists time ( not to mention missing out on the lovely salon gossip and piles of rag mags featuring expired celebrity drama). I now have newer color and need a trim. And only mildly satisfied (because I am not really addressing the issue of feeling unfit) I go back to shoe shopping. Very viscous cycle I am aware. But would you rather I sulk and yell? Yeah, me neither. And clothes shopping at this point is VERY counterproductive to mood boosting (let's be honest, that is usually the act that gets the whole ball rolling with the freak out). I will do better with walking and eventually running after we move and I am not spread so thin with packing and such. But for now my ritual of denial and attention to areas that didn't do anything, will have to do. Plus Aidan can't really ride safely in the jogging stroller till he has that bobble head thing down better (because I am going to run so fast that we need to worry about whiplash!! hehe, right).

Kelly and I were joking about the way I take things out on the wrong subjects (he was meaning himself though). I was picking on him and he asked why. I informed him that I torture him as to not lash out at everyone else. To which he replied : "I am saving the world!". Yes dear. Something like that.

I'll take 3am for 500 Alex.

2010-08-02T09:52:00.000-07:00

Well let's see. Where do I begin. Lot's of topics to get through today, so let's just see how badly I derail off on a tangent or how successful I am at segues connecting non related issues. OK, so I had my first major nightmares about Aidan. I won't even get into detail because these were the kind you don't repeat in fear of them coming true. As silly as that sounds, you know you've had the type. Wake up feeling like you really just lived it. I had only had a few like this lately but let me tell you honestly that one was so very bad the other night that I couldn't shake it for the whole day. I had brought Aidan to bed with me ( because it was cold and I have blanket paranoia until he can roll over and not potentially suffocate) and my dream was so scary that I grabbed him and clung to him so hard he woke up crying because I startled the crap outta him. Which woke me up and upon inspection he had three little pinkish half moons from my nails on his back. I was horrified. I clawed my son awake. What a monster I am. Last night I sat and stared at him sleeping in his crib after I woke from a terrifyer. I need to back to my rule about NOT watching the news for a while. I just can't ( I don't care how ignorant" that makes me sound. It is too much right now). Because it makes me think. Imagination is awesome when you are 6. Terrifying when you are 30. I also walked around the house checking all the locks like a crazy person with OCD. Then re-tucked Hal in ( more for my sake then hers) while she snored and got back into bed. Sleep did not come back quickly. I am a bit of a haggard mess today. Maybe it's from watching Jumanji before bed. Hmmm. Nah. No lions in my dream.

Moving right along. A weekend filled with fun and friends we had. It was nothing short of fantastic. Lots of miles on the Subaru, but well worth it. I still stand by my notion that all our friends just need to live on the same street as us and we could have major block parties and no one would ever be without a cup of sugar. In a perfect world. Aidan is a super baby in the car. So good with the multi stops and and 456 people all fussing over his cuteness. Both kiddos slept like rocks that night too. Bonus!! The great thing is that one very longtime childhood friend oved to the same hella far away part of the state at another long time childhood friend who has always lived way far. So we can hit up both now when we go (this is now my new rule for all friends planning to move away. You must choose a city where someone else we know already lives. Gas is spendy yo ). Daddio and I also took wee man in to see our coworkers which was also really fun ( for the baby and for me too. I really want people to start to remember what I looked like NOT as big as a mack truck). My team pitched in and got the baby a gift card which I thanked them for. But when I got home and actually read the amount I felt sheepish that my thank you was so nonchalant. Holy geez guys!! Really awesome, seriously. Because let's face it, I like to buy him stuff. And if I have a little help with that Kelly wont disown me (or is at least less likely to). I adore my work people( I of course landed on the team with the quirkiest least boring bunch there. Where I belong naturally).

Ah, what was the last thing I was going to rant on? hmmmm.

OH! That's right. The ridiculous let down that is breastfeeding. Well, for me anyhow. I have officially stopped attempting to tap into my now nonexistent milk supply. I have dwindled down to less then a half ounce a pumping session. Total!! So I have decided to give up the ghost. There are positives and negatives to how I feel about this choice (or rather, how I feel about being realistic with what I am able to produce). On the bright side, I now have more time to actually spend with the baby in my arms while I feed him instead of pumping hands free and feeding him off to the side with no real bonding happening thus making the whole thing a chore and a bore. I can eat a whole mess of garlic and feel no guilt about making the baby smell like I slow roasted him till it came out his little pores (really gross and out of place when you are expecting cute soft new baby scented Aidan and you get little mr. garlic pits. ugh). I will know sooner what size my boobs decide to be now permanently (please stay big, please stay big) without the illusion of full milk. Downside, I will not burn those breastfeeding calories everyday (which sucks because I plan to add in the joys of beer. It's not that I drink a ton of them, I just really enjoy the ones that happen to be higher calorie). I have that little hippy in my brain that keeps telling me I let the baby down because it's natures way to feed and there must be something wrong with me that I can't produce enough for my boy (oh, hell, I can't produce enough to feed Thumbelinas child). The guilt really is the bad part. I do feel like I should be able to do more. But I knocked myself out trying every herbal tea to Ovaltine to beer to hot showers before pumping to trying to con Aidan (or trick him while he was already half full of formula and milk drunk) into breastfeeding like a normal baby. Nada. Zilch. Zip. Boo didly squat. Nothing worked. So I gave a very very valiant effort. So though not without disappointment, breastfeeding is a thing of the past and I am feeling a bit freer. TMI but seriously glad to not be leaking (though the was only for a week it was awful and I feel for the ladies who have that for a long time. I was embarrassed lactating through a shirt in public once! I may have died if that was a constant).

So let's recap:

No more breast milk.
Both happy and sad.

Family road trip was incredible. Family friends were overjoyed. Baby man was awesome.

Recent bad dreams. No bueno and they better stop before I need Ambient and start sleep eating like the commercial warns.

home sweet, what the ?

2010-07-29T08:45:00.000-07:00

So I woke up this morning after having a major nightmare that I was on The Next Design Star ( damn you HGTV *shakes fist*). This has happened a few times lately, not the TV dreams, just house dreams in general. This home buying process is seriously a nerve racking procedure. One day we talk to our mortgage guy ( who happens to be an angel sent from above to guide us through the treachery ) and he's like "Yeah, everything is going great" and then three days till close they find a "hiccup" in the loan paperwork that they need to iron out. I can't use the string of expletives that I used that day but I will PG13 it for you. "Galldern motherfather frenchtoast pickle you periwinkle ramshackle scat craptastic!!!!!" I was not happy. The good news is that storm has passed and things are once again chugging along. The annoying news is that this stuff seems to take for-evvver.

Something like that is bound to make the mind do some strange things during the hours of actual shuteye I do get now that Aidan is eating some rice cereal in his nighttime bottles. Apparently the mud consistency makes him feel fuller longer (and he sucks it down in like 2.5 minutes flat, so I am guessing he likes it). Which is awesome because it scores me a 3-4 hour block of sleep on a good night, and then perhaps another 3 hours after the 3am feeding/changing. The boy is an early riser at 6 am everyday. Bottom line is, the boy is happier and I am sleeping better. Wahhooo. But, yes there is a but, I am having trippy dreams about home decorating challenges and large vaulted ceilings. Even a shag carpet that gave me the eebie jeebies.

I am proud of myself though. I have had a few really really big test of self control. Along with all the house buying stress and the baby tending and the unpredictable sleep pattern, the last thing I need in my aura is a stupid negative catty biotch. But of course, God is testing me to see if I really want to get into heaven or not. And this person chose to be in my general vicinity a few times over the weekend and then also popped up in social issues stirring up trouble with not one, not two, but three people I know. Not only does that take some evil stamina to just blanket the town with bitch, but it also quickens the removal of rose colored glassed on her peers. Detrimental for the social life of a shapeshifter. Ahhhh that felt nice. Haven't had a Voldemort rant in a while. Anyhow, I was proud of myself. Even with the demon three feet from me and giving shitty looks, I did not walk over and break her fake nose, which is what the old me ( me from about two years ago) would have done. I am trying with all my might to be a good example for the 9 year old ( she is the only reason I have yet to quiet this garbage with methods tried and true). ALL my might is what it sometimes has taken. Especially now that I am not prego and I am totally able bodied enough to mop the floor with that creepy smirk. Instead I seethed quietly to myself and mentally chanted "Karma is a bitch, Karma is a bitch, Karma is a bitch".

With all of these things going on simultaneously it is a miracle I have half a mind at all. Every time the phone rings I race over hoping it is mortgage man with our closing papers ready and waiting. Again I am proud of myself for keeping a level head. And I often have to take a minute to remind myself "Self, you are doing a bang up job" ( I also noticed I talk to myself way more. That's what limited adult interaction does for ya).

Moral of the story: Sometimes you have to talk to yourself and pat your own back otherwise you will break someones nose.

:) And one of my favorite books of all time is now a movie starring someone I have missed seeing in movies for a long while. Eat,Pray,Love *sigh* such an amazing story. I can't wait to have a ME night and see it.

teach them young

2010-07-27T10:40:00.000-07:00

I had a few moments to spare ( rare thing nowadays) and I thought about the things that used to make me happy before the baby takeover. I miss my art time. I also wondered to myself "Self, could you do this while baby is around?" and my answer to myself was "I think I could". So I tried it. I grabbed a little ol' canvas I happen to have laying around ( it is 30x20 and I have huge random empty canvases around the house just begging to be painted so I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner) and I brought it into a room not entirely filled with boxes. Hals room. She also has the best lighting in there and room for Aidan to sit in his bouncy seat which is conveniently angled upward so I pointed him toward the project to watch. I set up my acrylics ( no fumes for babe and they dry faster than my beloved oils) and the monster canvas and had an idea almost instantly! Inspiration hasn't been that fantastic and clear in a very long time. I thank the hormones. Postpartum painting session lasted about an hour as I laid the base colors and let them set while mixed bold blues and greens and deep, sharp crimson to create the sunset like background and simple crisp foliage in the foreground. Aidan gazed up the whole while with wide eyes attracted to the big spread of colors. I almost cried watching him as he stared amazed and interested. My boy likes art!!!

It took two sessions, both about an hour long (uninterrupted by any crying surprisingly) to finish the large piece. Each time I packed up to let a layer dry and take the boy for a milk break or diaper change, he wasn't thrilled to be removed. And he did not sleep while I worked. He watched. So thrilled by this I am not sure I am expressing it fully. Those of you who know me well understand how much it means to me to see him appreciate color and be patient while I create something. And I hope that this means he can continue to watch and appreciate and learn by observing, just like I did with my Dad. This will shape his love for art and then I can watch and observe and appreciate when he starts to create things by himself.

Of course I want him to have the basics. Be honest, and humble and kind and have manners and street smarts and people skills, yada yada. But I also want him to value things like art and music. I want that brain to suck it all in as early as possible. Jump start the creative thinking.

Oh, and Hal showed up on the weekend and saw the painting sitting in her room. To which she said "holy moly that is huge!" followed by a really sweet conversation with her dad about art skills and different styles of painting when he was tucking her in for the night. Her wanting to learn how to paint like me is heart warming and I am honored that she thinks so highly of me ( she asked why I am not famous, to which Kelly mumbled that I wasn't dead yet. I almost had cola come out my nose trying not to LOL).

And the added bonus, I think I found some "ME" time. I can stop and start and do it whenever. Might just be perfect. Like baby art lessons/postpartum therapy.

Jekyll and Hyde

2010-07-20T08:30:00.000-07:00

I was looking over the last few blogs and really feeling like I have posted alot of "venting" posts. Which are totally necessary. But, I don't want to paint the portrait of pain and suffering and little to no enjoyment. It's just that these are very challenging days. I am reminded daily that my expertise as far as children are concerned really begins at about 2 or 3. So this newborn infant stuff is uncharted territory for me. And sure my loving husband has a daughter which should make him a seasoned veteran right? Yeah, he has been peed on more than me. Every baby does different stuff. So crazy cranky Aidan made of gas and grump has a Jekyll and Hyde factor to his character. He also morphs into super snuggle man with adorable dimple action and footy pajamas (I am a sucker for footy pajamas. Last year I bought matching ones for me and Hal and they were awesome). He has lots and lots of silly downtime that keep me sane after his shrill screams of tummy trouble. For example, he enjoys my singing along with our morning music videos (I assume it is because I conditioned him in the womb and he has no choice but to like what he is familiar with) and when Katy Perry comes on his drooling trance is hilarious ( this morning was a whole 9 song play of videos (yes, crazy she has made 9 songs that were hits, who knew) which is allowing me to type this right now). The dude is funny. After a diaper change sometimes he just feels like trying to roll around and giggle and chuckle at himself so loudly that it makes me laugh. I never knew how wonderous and interesting the window near my bed was until I watched the oohs and ahhs and intense curiosity of the boy as he observed a normally boring view of a rose bush. Keeps me smiling to watch him figure out or see something new every day. Best of all are the "words" that pass his little lips. His language is rough and squealy or low and grumbly but always a riot to eaves drop on. Most of this meatball chatter is to his stuffed animals in his crib when he should be sleeping. This is why he has a bear named Rupert. I hear the mischievous plans they are making and I am totally on to them. Rupert really needs to let that kid sleep.

My point is that there are about a zillion awesome moments that are intermixed with the stressy stuff. I am told this is just how it should be with a new babe. So I make the most of those heart melting times. Partly because I fear that everyone is right when they say this precious age flies past if you blink and don't love it while it lasts. They were right about lot's of other things so I will take it as gospel and heed the advice. Every smile counts. Especially since he is actually smiling at his own amusement and at me and Daddy when we smile. And at sissy when her hair tickles his cheek when she smooches him.

Speaking of the girl. Ahhh yes the girl. With all her sassy smarts it is getting harder and harder to amaze her with random facts she might not know already. But today I got her good. Oh yes me and my huge brain. She didn't know how a pearl gets into an oyster. YES!! I felt so cool. I really do love the long science-y "what if" or "why" conversations with her inquisitive 7yr old mind ( I also love to stifle laughter as I correct the bullsh*t info she gets from her less than intelligent 13 yr old relative who Hal is leaps and bounds brighter than. oh well, it is fine tuning her BS meter.). She is going to be oh so fun for Aidan when he is old enough to talk. I can't wait to see what random theories they concoct together. Honestly I am half scared. The world will never be the same.

signs of the times

2010-07-17T19:28:00.000-07:00

You know you you have a 0-3 month old when..........

Every shirt you own has a faint aroma of formula/breast milk.

You can watch a whole television show while the baby "cries it out" because you've learned to read lips.

You only begin tasks that can be halted at any moment.

It's not the crying that worries you, it's when it's too silent.

You only have clothes that are too big and clothes that are too small. So you tend to live in lounge wear.

There is a pacifier in every purse.

You indulge all at once and very infrequently if it means pumping and dumping.

Navigation in the dark around the baby swing playpen and furniture obstacle course is getting easy.

3am is early feeding time and 6am is now normal wake up time.

Blogging means the baby fell asleep on your lap and your spouse was kind enough to bring you the laptop.

Tiny little socks are still adorable even though they are slowly losing their mates throughout the house.

The bags under your eyes may have become permanent.

You can tell the difference between the angry cry and the hungry cry and the messy diaper cry and the I just feel like crying cry.

You have become a stylist to a person less than two feet tall.

It is amazing that a child can produce a sound that is one octave from making ears bleed.

As unnecessary as shoes are for a non-walker, damnit they are so cute.

You start to be insulted when people don't mention how cute your child is when you go out in public. ( I was annoyed when an old lady commented on my cute stroller but not my adorable kid, geez, the nerve)

kiddo number one

2010-07-12T09:31:00.000-07:00

I hate to post when we have Hal. Mainly because we seem to have her so rarely this summer that I want to spend what time she is her with her and not on the computer. This weekend was absolutely fantastic. She and I had some serious and some funny moments and talked about feelings and boys and space and dinosaurs and god....the list is incredibly long really. We also talked about the little boy who had gone missing in our city recently. How grown up a topic for a 7 year old to bring up while we packed up her toys and books for the big move. She expressed her concerns for the kid and his family and how she wished someone would find him. I took that serious moment by the reins and asked her some open ended questions about strangers and dangerous situations. She passed with flying colors a test she didn't even know she was taking. I realized at the end of our talk that she had been playing with her rock collection the whole time unphased and that I had been practically holding my breath. I had hoped she would be savvy about those topics already from school. No. She was savvy about them because she just knows right from wrong. How lucky for us parents. I was appalled however that school hadn't really stepped up to the plate with much more than Fire Safety and the good ol' Stop-Drop-Roll lesson (those are important too, but if she is missing how would we know she was on fire?). I had had talks about "after school special" type topics before with other peoples children back when I was a teacher and I am sad to see the restrictions placed on educators now. I just feel kids who know things are more empowered to stand up for themselves if put in a questionable situation. It is somehow harder a conversation when it is closer to home. Though she knew most of the right answers to creepy scenarios, there were a few things I had to shed light on. Which is nice because that means she isn't totally jaded already about "bad people" out there. But now she isn't as naive either.

I think it is important for us to educate our kids on current events. That being said, I do not think our kids should be sitting down to the 5 o'clock news with us. The world is a scary place for adults. And to be honest, why would any parent want to have to say " I don't know why that person did what they did honey, yes that is sad/scary/bad" all the time. Because the news is full of things we can't even explain or rationalize to ourselves let alone our young.

On a lighter note, big sis had some major moments with little brother while she was here. She now has the hang of feeding him a bottle and she understands the importance of burping him ( or a beast he becomes with his gas fits). Aidan had some super silly spells where he'd do weird little things like lick a blanket and try to shove it in his mouth while making gremlin noises. Much to his big sisters joy. It is something amazing to watch her tickle his tummy and he actually smiles at her now. I am grateful every day that she loves him so much. And that she is such a good kid that she has a great load of examples to offer as he grows.

inadequate boobs

2010-07-08T16:47:00.000-07:00

The breast feeding situation has become baffling for me. It is so hard when I thought for sure that would be the least of my worries considering the new equipment I had gained. Meaning the boobs. I never have been very well endowed and pregnancy had blessed me a bit for my suffering.

Myth: huge boobs produce an endless supply of milk.

I have been pumping every two to four hours depending on my day and events. Why pump? Because, when Aidan was born with a super low blood sugar issue, he was bottle fed formula and took to the bottle immediately. This robbed him of the want to breast feed. He required instant gratification and though he would latch on, he would not relax and be patient enough for milk. He has been bottle fed both formula and what milk I can produce now that mine has come in ( which took about 4 days and made me panic). I have learned that I should be producing more and more milk to meet his needs. This is not the case. In fact I have days that the supply feel as though it's dwindling. Ranging from a pumping of 1oz to 4oz later that day. So frustrating. And to top it off, the boy has a serious appetite due to his large size. He is now needing a tad bit of rice cereal in his night time bottles to keep him full and help him sleep longer stretches ( for both his sanity and mine).

The largest part of the frustration I feel is that there is no reason for my milk to lessen. No medications, no long spans of time without pumping, nothing. I even tried an herbal remedy that many woman have sworn by. Nothing. I want so very badly to provide for my son and his feeding demands. So I talk to the person I have always been able to complain to and vent and ask anything. My Dad (is that strange? to chat with my dad about breast feeding? hmm). And he had good info that made me feel a little better. He said that I was lucky because Aidan would not be one of those babies who refuses to switch to a bottle and NEEDED to stay on the breast. I hadn't thought of that. That I would not end up one of the Moms required to be the only person who can feed the baby. I suppose that is the bright side. And he also said that I am lucky he will take formula. That some babies refuse it and throw it up.

Fact: When your parent tells you stories about "some babies" and they don't name which of your siblings it was, it means it was you.

So I guess now it is just up to me to figure out how I can make more milk and for as long as I can. And yes I have contacted the Lactation Specialist about a zillion times. Most of the tricks and techniques do not work for me. I am starting to think it may be stress that is holding me back. I wonder why I have stress ( so sarcastic). Could it be the home buying process coming to a close in a week? Or perhaps the tiny needy person I just made? Ooh I bet it is the fight I had to put up to get Liberty Mutual to put my maternity leave into affect (eff that company. won't even get started on the long story). Ah and I think the topper is that the dog is now pregnant. Not kidding. I bet she will out produce me in the milk department. Haha. Bitch. (get it?)

I suppose stress is the factor. So I think the answer is to find anti-stress things that do not cost alot of money (the parenting magazines make it sound so great to drop a shit ton of money on things like massages and pedicures and lunches out and new clothes. let's be real people, a new baby is expensive). Inexpensive moments like a walk with the wee one snoring in the stroller sound more realistic. Just a breathe of fresh air now and again would be good. And perhaps my favorite ice cream after dinner. Little stuff.

Frankly when Aidan smiles life just seems better. Which he just did in his sleep. I know it means he just shat himself or tooted but it is still such a sweet expression. I can't wait till it means he is actually happy (oh I know he is happy now, but you know what I mean).

Baby Phat

2010-07-06T09:45:00.000-07:00

Because fat with an "f" is not big enough a word to describe the torment of trying on pants. I see what women mean about the changes in the hip area. I am wondering if it will ever be the same. I really hope so considering the very deep investment in jeans I have sponsored over the years. I would really hate to have to start over. I have officially lost 31 lbs of the 66 I gained carrying Aidan. And I am trying to remind myself that it took 9 months to put it on and I intend an giving myself 9 months to take it off and get in shape. I think that is fair. My brain knows this is the plan yet when I found myself to small for maternity pants and to large for pre-preggo pants I was in a funk. I am at least 2 months away from buttoning my favorite pair and way farther from them looking dy-no-mite again (just because they button ladies, does not mean they look awesome. that is a fact). So my sweet dear of a husband took me to get a new pair of jeans so I would show my face in public without feeling super duper self conscious (though I do realize that friends really are only checking out the baby and what he is outfitted in). I went through the racks of clearance because I refuse to pay full price for pants I demand to be to thin for in a couple months. I grabbed a huge range of sizes and went to the fitting room. I came out empty handed and ready to cry. Our country should use that procedure as cruel torture for treason. It would bring people to their knees with self loathing. Anyhow, I gave up that day and was contemplating just getting new shoes because I know I have only gained half a shoe size (which is so weird but it really happens). Kelly was very supportive and the next day we tried it again at another store. Swallowing my pride I bypassed the sizes I tried on the day before, and I pick tentatively through a range of double digits I have never put on my body before. Trying these on I was happy that I had selected much larger than necessary as it made me feel better about the one that fit correctly. The larger of these was left on the hangers thank goodness. The hips don't lie alright. I will however say that this brand of jeans is normally very expensive and very ass-tastic. A fine reward for misery (80$ jeans for 10$, yeah I rock).

I was much happier as we left the mall, which is normally my personal hell. But as we got to the car I worried that this whole hip situation would affect the wardrobe I had packed lovingly for this fall. The added cushion I have grown on the tush area will hopefully disappear and this will not be a blog worthy topic again. I vow to go back and purchase the same jeans I fell in love with yesterday in a size I hope to be by Christmas. They are amazing and I think they will be motivating.

The next sad mission is to sort through my shoes and donate all the ones that don't fit to Goodwill. I could see myself saving them in hope of fitting into them one day. And that would be stupid (and it would drive Kelly crazy). So I will purge the closet. But, you know damn well I plan to replace them with better, more awesome footwear. I am sure the count of cast offs will be intense considering I have about 60+ pairs at last count. *sigh* I feel like I should have a funeral or memorial for them all.

the new list

2010-07-05T11:28:00.000-07:00

I was reading a list by an author "32 ways a baby changes your life" and thought I would make my own list on the same topic.

- Being up at 3 am does not mean I had a wild night on the town.

-There is now 1 person in this world that can smile and I just can't stay mad.

-Toots are funnier than ever.

-Poop gets cheered for.

-My mind is blown by teeny achievements because I know what huge foundations for learning are being set.

- I am no longer invincible, and that is scary.

- I am more overprotective of my family ( which some might find impossible)

-My Dad smiles differently. A variety of pride only a new branch on the family tree can create.

- Yes, I do look at him almost everyday and think to myself "I made a person".

-I have a mini me.

- I care less about what I am wearing and more about baby outfits.

- I drink coffee and watch Sesame Street.

- Random people wanting to hold the boy without washing their hands freaks me out.

- I notice how kind even the brattiest of kids can be when new baby is around.

- My needs are last on the list and often I go to bed not really caring if they are met that day.

- I become fixated on a sun hat for the baby not a sun tan for mommy.

- I am excited for the world to meet him because he is so damn cool and relaxed. And I get annoyed when people are not impressed by that. :)

- I am now extremely biased.

- Things that I cannot prevent or plan for his future are scary to think about.

- I really miss my Gram and my cousin Jason so much more. (and I really really missed them before the baby, so it's alot now) I know they would be over the moon in love if they could meet the boy.

- I have to re-prioritize the "little things" because some are WAY worth freaking out about now.

- I have put a binky in my own mouth. From his mouth. and back.

- The dogs have taken a back seat. Ok, a middle seat.

- The feelings I had for people who said " You wouldn't know, you're not a mother" have changed. I think they are ten times more stupid. You do not know more just because you gave birth. You now know less and I stand firm in my belief that you must educate yourself in order to be a good Mom. It is not an all knowing righteous position. It is humbling.

-Everyday is new and different.

- I walk down the toy aisle with excitement again.

- I am less likely to feel sheepish about crying.

OK, things that will never change:

- People getting peed on will always be hilarious.

- I will not talk baby talk.

- I get irritated that some folks think not ever having given birth means I have never interacted with any child ever.

- I don't mind advice that comes from the heart and I can tell the difference between that and the above. :)

- Sales and clearance racks are still something I will always gravitate toward. Now it's just for the boy also.

- I still REALLY dislike Dora The Explorer.

- I will still call my kid Booger and Meatball when people give me "tsk tsk" looks because they think those are derogatory nicknames.

- Some baby lullaby music reminds me of an intro to a horror movie.

when the mind starts to go

2010-06-30T10:57:00.000-07:00

I had the strangest train of thought this morning as I rocked a fussy Aidan in the living room recliner. Daddy has to wake up at 6-7ish for work so I have been doing feedings outside of our bedroom for his sanity. When we move he wont have feedings in our bedroom so I thought starting new with a change of scenery at night would make the transition less shocking. The wee one can fall asleep as soon as a burp slips his lips. Pretty much wherever his head lays he can sleep. I on the other hand cannot sleep in the recliner. Absolutely cannot sleep with baby on my arm in the recliner. I don't feel safe. I feel like I would doze and he'd roll right out of my arms onto the wood floor. So I sit like a zombie and rock him till he is out cold. Then, I get up to put him in the crib. And he fusses. Ahhhh, messy diaper. Back out to the living room. Change him. Rock him back to sleep. Back to the crib. Fusses. Crap!! Has it really been an hour and a half? Can he really be starving already? He has his eatin' face on and he's all worked up. *sigh* Bottle it is. Ok fed. Back to crib after burping and he is all milk drunk. Perfect. Now I need to pump. So I do. And then I trudge the milk to the fridge and climb into bed. For exactly 34 min. Awesome. I get up as the dog slips into my freshly warmed spot in bed (no joke, head on the damn pillow and all) and starts snoring. Because I also work for the dogs and all I was doing was prepping his snooze zone. I collect the crying boy and off to the living room I go again. Fresh bottle in hand and a tired little blob making yummy noises as he scarfs down another 4 oz. This is why I don't sleep.

So, I began with the lead in because the next bit is a little of center. And I really needed to paint the picture perfectly. I was literally sitting, staring out the window watching the sun come up this morning as my mind skipped along from random topic to inane thought to full on crazy logic. Wicked drug lack of sleep is because I was officially trippin out. I found myself reminiscing about childhood cartoons like The Snorks and Shirttails. Which then led me to wonder where my old roller skates ever went. And next I sat for a long stretch and thought about how ridiculous it is that Barbie has the middle and ring finger on each hand stuck together and how annoying it was that adding a ring to accessorize her outfit meant you had to insert it into a hole in her hand. But that I suppose it was better than when she has karate chop style hands before that. Yeah. This is the crap of a mind that is running along with no driver. And I can't even tell you where it all trailed off but I was interrupted by the sound of an empty bottle being sucked at.

And here I sit, amazed I am not able to recall more of the rambling thought collision that ran around my head for more than 8 hours. I am taking a nap for sure today before the walls start talking to me and I start answering back.

Shower? What's a shower?

2010-06-28T08:50:00.000-07:00

Man I need a swing. I am hunting one down so I can start taking regular showers. Yeah I sound gross. Whatever. It's hard to fit that in my daily schedule lately. What with all the burping and bottling and feeding and pumping and diapering.........and sleeping? Kinda. I would really like to bathe regularly. Instead of the jump in and rinse off technique. Refreshing as that is. So I am searching for a swing so I can just have the boy nearby and happy while I take care of Mommy business.

I woke up this morning with a few missions in mind. I am going to be productive today. It is Kelly's first day back at work (and without Hal after a super excellent solid week with her. Yeah, we need more of that for sure. Big sis time is very important for both kids) and I am solo with meatball. He is gurgling away watching music videos (my favorite part of the day, I can't lie) and while he is enchanted by Katy Perry I will check email and blog. Then while he is confused by Miley Cyrus (eyes wide and furrowed brow, it's hilarious) I will facebook a bit. All while pumping thanks to my sweet new invention. And then to craigslist to round up a few sweet deals. :) A swing is on the list and a walk also. We shall see how much I can get done before my mandatory nap at 3pm. I am going to make myself put the boy down and take a few minutes of recharge shut eye. That way when Kelly gets home after missing us all day he doesn't walk in to get a karate chop to the jugular because I am stressed past saving. My nap ensures his safety. I am so nice.

Off topic (like I ever really stay on one) but I am looking at my flailing child in his Boppy ( best invention) in all his chubby glory and wonder how the hell he was pulled from a 10 inch incision in my tummy. So incredible. His long eyelashes on heavy eyes right now, trying so hard to squirm around and fight sleep. So I open the curtain and he gazes outside and the eyes slam shut which signals baby snores (yep, it's official that all Felti in our home snore. Even the dog). He is so damn cute. I had some pretty solid stubborn preconceived notions about how I would feel about being a Mom. One was bombed the other night when we left Aidan with Yaya and Papa (grandma and grandpa) for just 2 hours. I missed the boy like mad. I didn't do the "call every five minutes" thing. But I felt very strange not having him with us. Weird how the things you thought you knew change. I do think I will be strong about it and not be a weeping wreck when it's sitter time, but I did not expect to feel wrong without him around. I guess that's what happens when you grow a person for so long. Literally feels like an extension of your being.

Well my extension is fussing. :) more later. Time to dance to some Hayley Williams. My kid loves to dance.

Eureka!!

2010-06-27T14:01:00.000-07:00

I have taken some advice and guess what I am doing right now? No, I am not eating a jelly donut. I am pumping. And blogging!!!!! How you ask? After much annoyance and even a little fit throwing and complaining I have adapted a bra that I cannot comfortably fit into as it would normally be worn. I have added two holes and slipped the suction cups into it now making the pumping situation hands free and annoyance free. I figure I wont get any wear out of it anymore anyways. In my riffling through boxes of clothes that no longer fit, I found a staggering amount of bras. Seriously. I didn't realize what a problem I have of keeping EVERYTHING!!! I mean, I knew I had a habit, but it is actually evolved into a problem (not Hoarders status, but I see how some of that starts). I lost count after I threw out 15 bras that were ill fitting or too small. What was I thinking? That I would reverse puberty after I finally hit it (so very late in my twenties that it is really sad)? I don't know. Maybe that when I started running again they would shrink? Perhaps. But not so often that I need a backup bra in every color and size. I could open up my own store at this rate. Some not ever even worn!! I need to stop buying things just simply because they are on sale.

At least now I will be more focused on buying things for Aidan and not myself. In fact I did just that at Fred Meyer the other day when grocery shopping. Found some really cute little man pants on sale. And now that we know our dear friends are having a boy this fall(Woooohooooo!!!!) I can justify spending money on a few sale items knowing full well he may only fit them briefly. Because hand me downs rock. I myself benefited immensely from hand me down stuff. It's the way to go in this economy. Pass it on folks, share the love. Babies are already so expensive (saw my hospital bill before insurance pays their chunk, WOW is all I will say).

Update time. Aidan is doing great. He is eating soooooo much and gaining length and weight steadily. The dogs find him just as amusing as he finds them which is great because I am sure when he is mobile they will be headed for hiding. Best they grow to love him now. They strong kid is lifting his head all the time and has become frustrated that he cannot roll over all the way. That darn heavy head and the shoulder are still keeping him from it. Thank god!!! I remember learning that kids who roll early most often crawl and walk early. Which means they don't learn fear first, or caution. So that means my meatball will be battered and bruised at every pediatric visit till he is 10 ( probably longer). I hope he holds off a bit. I want him scar free and cute for a few family photos first. But he is a boy with Buchan blood in him so I wont be able to keep him from the dangerous stuff forever. Just have to show up with medical supplies. I better invest in a fully stocked ambulance. Hmmmm.

And I am also done pumping. *sigh* this is awesome :)

I am a two week old trapped in a two month olds body

2010-06-24T17:10:00.000-07:00

That's what his Doc said today at the meeting of pediatrician man with some accent. Super nice though. Just odd. Aidan hated the whole "get naked and lay there while we all analyze you and your big baby body and talk about your eating habits while you freeze" routine. But I fed him asap afterward while a crazy lab lady stuck his foot to get some other kind of blood sample smear thingy. She should not be working with children. Ever. Her voice sounded like she was urgently needing something and/or stressed to the max and it never hit anywhere near a calming tone. Stayed right near the ranges I am pretty sure only dogs can hear. Poor boy. But as soon as we exited that place of evil torture and into the sunny outside air he was calm as could be. My little sun lover. Likes to be warm and hates cold. Just like Mamma. I do sniff him like mad when he is all covered in baby sunscreen too. Such a nice scent. Summer baby. They should make body wash that smells like that. Million dollar seller I bet. Ooohhh Patent pending!!! I took a moment ( though they are precious few I have to myself so you are welcome) to post a few faces of my silly boy. I am doing that mom thing where I assume everyone is as impressed with his charming expressions as I am.

Enjoy!!!

Oh, and I lost 25 pounds thus far!!! Waahhoooooo!!! Can't wait to start running again. It's like a fresh start considering I haven't smoked in over 9 months.

OK, now enjoy :)

The above picture was ten minutes after birth. I should have known at this moment he would be hilarious.

And the dimple. Finally got that on film.

I have hundreds more of course. But for now I wont bore you. :)

One armed bandit

2010-06-20T09:49:00.000-07:00

As my husband goes to pick up the daughter child and I have wee man down for a rest, I decide to try to be a good wife and do a few chores. It is Fathers Day after all. And he cleaned the living room, did laundry, and made the coffee this morning. Leaving me feeling unkind on his day. So I start the little things like getting bottles collected and washed. I get about this far when Aidan howls. And howls........and howls. It can be deafening. I do the now normal ritual of asking what his problem is and showing him I have not gone far from the playpen he is lounging in one room away. No luck. Still Mr. Pissy Pants. Scooping him up I assess the things I can do with one arm taken hostage by a young mancub. And after I finish this blog I will do these things.

Things I can do one handed:

-load bottled into the sanitizer and pop it in the microwave.

-beat the dog (or threaten with a shaken fist)

-make a pile of messy baby clothes that resembles 1/10 load of laundry in normal human size

-put in a hair clip to keep my bangs from dangling all stringy in my face and annoying me (a hot mess I am today)

-change the channel when music television puts on Nickleback *gag*

-clean up spilled formula

-pour a cup of coffee

-put away single items from the cluttered coffee table one trip at a time

-text message

-blog

Things I cannot do one handed:

-put hair in a ponytail

-pump breast milk ( hind sight being 20/20 I now realize why they invented that bar thingy that connects the two receptacles for the pumpy thingy. Should have bought that one. And I bet the gal that invented it is a bazzzillionair. Of course it would have been a woman, are you kidding me?)

-unload the bottles from the hot sanitizer thing. (hmmmm, two little latches didn't seem so hard to latch you'd thing unlatch would be a sinch.)

-change my shirt after breast pump fiasko

-fold laundry

Man I hope he goes back to sleep.

More fun to come later when we go live to the scale as I do the daunting deed of finally checking on my weight!! Stay tuned!

you may not have your cake and eat it too.

2010-06-19T12:26:00.000-07:00

It is now a fact that Mommyhood is about choices. No real negotiating with an 9 day old mancub. When he cries I dance like a monkey. It's just a few simple needs and learning which cry means diaper and which means feed me. I feel like Indiana Jones when he smoothly replaces the idol with the bag. And if I choose diaper and it was really food he needed then all hell breaks loose and boulders roll out of nowhere and spears fly through the air.

Napping is also a very serious decision time. Do I sleep with baby? Or do I have some Me time and blog :) or read or just bathe? If I choose poorly then my evening is shot. It's a major gamble because the night time could hold 3 hours of light sleep. It's a very bad game show and door number 2 always looks promising but it's a microwave when door number 1 was a 7 day cruise. Bummer. Like yesterday I chose to soak my tired feet and enjoy a Nectarine. Wrong door. Should have slept. Last night sucked.

It's not all rough stuff though. This little light of my life is hilarious and makes me laugh with all his gremlin noises when he is hungry. And watching my husband with his boy is something I can't even put into words (which is saying a lot because I am wordy). *sigh* Life is good.

And voila!! Aidan is fussing. I'm out.

not sweetened. not condensed. just milk.

2010-06-17T07:34:00.000-07:00

I figured if I waited a few days between blogs things would just be more hilarious all at once for you. OK fine, truth is I have not been able to put together a sentence that made any sense whatsoever because of major sleep deprivation. I won't even go on and on about that because today was so very blog worthy that lack of sleep is common for new mommies and so old news (not to mention sooooo not funny).

I woke today to many many things worth laughing about. I shall paragraph them in the order I discovered them.

Last night my wonderful son decided to let me sleep until 4 am!! Major improvement. And then after feeding, soothing and diapering he went back down till 7 am. Can't explain what a miracle that is after the other night where I thought I may need a priest and a movie deal. We figured out that breast milk makes him have horrendous gas at night when he is still. So trying formula before bed proved successful and an exorcism was not needed after all. I will say that watching our baby writhe in pain and contort himself to find relief while wailing at full volume is enough to make you crazy. But figuring out it was my milk causing this was enough to break my heart. I am elated to find a fix for that issue.

But (always a but) there was of course dark lining on my silver cloud. I woke with a soaked shirt because though I took care of business at 4 am with a fairly clear head, I forgot the important task of pumping. And those milk machines just keep on making. So I had a shirt wetter than a drunk college girl in Cancun on spring break. I did however, sleep like a champ. And I will take that trade off any night from here forward. A shirt can be laundered and poor swollen boobies can be pumped but sleep is precious and I have been in the red as far as hours logged.

And last but not least. I also woke to a mildly hungry-fussy boy and toted him to the kitchen to warm a breakfast bottle. Kelly is way awesome because he pre-makes these and pops them in the fridge so I can warm them easily while in a sleepy daze. I also let the doggies out to go potty and fed them ( all one handed while my kiddo babbles and makes little zoolander expressions and sucking noises which we call his "eatin' face"). After feeding, the boy was all milk drunk. So I turned on his stars ( a super great stuffed turtle with a hard shell that has star cut outs. Colored light shines these stars on the wall much to his amazement) for him to ooooh and ahh at while I get my pump ready to undo my milk problemo. I walk back to the kitchen and on the way notice both dogs looking waaaayyyyy guilty. And they are being quiet. And not following me to see if I have the little crying person with me. Upon closer inspection I see that they are in fact stuck together. Now. For those of you who do not know what this means, I will explain. See, when two dogs love each other very much............. :) just kidding. Simply put, they were doing it. When dogs do it, they get stuck together. And they manage to get to the point where they were standing, genitals connected, facing opposite ways and looking ashamed. After pointing and laughing ( you know I did) I took them as one item and placed them gently in the shower stall. Lovingly closed the door. And hosed them with cold water. Instant detach. Two very grateful wet beast sulked back to the living room to shiver under a blanket thinking they were in trouble.

Through all of this fun my husband snores. I think I will be super wife and plop little man in bed with Daddio and make some coffee. And over cups of java in bed while gazing at our perfect boy I will tell him the tale of my morning.

And in 1hr 24min Aidan will be one week old. And I just did math at 7:34 am. Boooyah!!

Bacon and my baby boy

2010-06-12T11:49:00.000-07:00

As I sat with my snoring 2 day old boy in the crook of my elbow and a huge pile of bacon on the plate before me, I felt as though I were in heaven. I really don't know how much better life gets than that. I have been on a liquid diet for the last 48 hrs (after of course having starved for 12 before surgery) and it is an amazing thing really, the palate sends fireworks to the brain at the first taste of honeydew melon. I closed my eyes and sighed while my synapses freaked out. Smiling from ear to ear as the nurse told me I may graduate to the "real food" menu, I now enjoy every morsel of food I am ordering. Kelly had biscuits and gravy with a side of bacon this morning. The scent alone of bacon makes my pupils dilate and beast instinct come out. I literally phoned room service that minute and ordered myself a side of bacon even though I had already placed a very sensible cream of wheat and fruit order moments before. I had room for pig. :) The most amazing 4 slices of delicious I have ever devoured.

Ok, so, the actual delivery day has come and gone. The big birth of the bouncing baby boy!!! The 10 lb boy. He is doing fantastic!! So alert already. I am in awe of the things he is trying to do at two days old. If he hears Kelly talking and can't see him, he attempts to crane his neck and arch his back till Dad is in view. He got himself tangled in his swaddling and fussed and grumbled and kicked all the way out of it looking pleased as all heck with his accomplishment. He lifts his head when laid on his tummy and definitely prefers to be on his back or propped up to see people. He is amused by his toes being touched and seems ticklish. The expressions are hilarious and he has the most amazing secret weapon, ( though we are still trying to figure out where it comes from because none of our family has one) a dimple.

The c-section. What to say about the c-section. First I would like to congratulate myself on being stupid enough and brave enough at the same time, to watch a part of the surgery in the reflection of the very very shiny metal light fixture. I felt nothing, so I am thinking that it just didn't seem like me that I was watching. ( plus I was already laid down so if I fainted, there I was already) Very interesting stuff really. The best thing was that I can say with 100% pride that I wasn't scared. The procedure was something I had watched a million times and friends and family being the awesome kind folks they are, shared stories good and bad. These stories made it seem human and real and normal. The cutting and pushing and moving and pressure and removal of Aidan was smooth and organized and went just how I had expected and hoped. The epidural was the only terrifying factor because they would not allow Kelly to hold my hand. And I have a serious needle phobia so a giant one stabbing into my spine sounded wretched. After the spine stabbing, my left foot went numb. That for me was comforting because it meant the horrors of a failed epidural would not be for us. The tent they put up blocked the gore and Kelly was allowed to join my side. They look on the portion of his face I could see above his mask was one of fear and hope. He is the love of my life and my whole world. Seeing him scared for me like that made me feel so brave and strong. Because I could look him in the eyes and tell him I was not scared. I felt amazing.

When Aidan cried all was excellent. And when Kelly was allowed to bring him over to my side as the stitched me back together, my life was forever different. And when he got to go with the nurses to clean baby up and bond with his boy, I closed my eyes through tears and just thanked every superior being I could name for my good fortune and healthy babe.

Best day of all my days has been followed my a couple more just like it. And I could ramble on and on and on. But I need my pain drugs and we have visitors soon. This kid has a fan club. I will post more tomorrow about his funny moments thus far.

A big huge thank you to all of our friends and family. We know damn well that we have an incredible support group. I personally had a much better adventure through the pregnancy and birth because of all of you and the comforts, wisdom and personal sharing of epic failures. I cannot wait to hear the gems in store for me about parenting and child rearing.

Aidan Michael
born 6.10.10 at 8:58am
10 lbs even
21 inches long
14 inches long

Baby Brain

2010-06-08T17:51:00.000-07:00

This is a real thing that real doctors have done real studies on. Thank god because I was totally not fessing up to it otherwise. It's the feeling of being a complete idiot and having reflex actions that you know damn well to be bad ideas. You learned these lessons years and years ago yet for split seconds throughout pregnancy your brain lapses and you do the stupidest things. Immediately feeling foolish afterward. And of course looking around to see who may have witnessed it and who is laughing and needs to die. One such action today made me remember a few others and I decided to share as I enjoy my macaroni. Why is macaroni worth mentioning? Oh, because I was making said dish when I lost all common sense and decided the very best way to free noodles clinging to the bottom of the pan when straining water after the boiling process, is to PAT THE PAN BOTTOM WITH MY BARE HAND. Like an idiot. Super awesome. I am fine. No third degree burns. Just head shaking shame.

A while back I had an epic moment where Maggie ( the dingbat Boston Terrier we love to laugh at) had hurled on the wood floor in the living room. I went into the kitchen to grab some paper towels and spray and no joke, walked back through the living room and also through the puke pile heading toward the bedroom. In socks. I had forgotten what I was even doing with the clean up kit. Or where I was headed in the first place. (We call this Destinesia in our house. It's when you get where you were going and forget what you were doing.)

I have also had whole sentences come out as one long abbreviated mess. A dumb word. Kelly and I have now integrated these into our vocabulary for idiot moments. More often than not I totally forget what I had been trying to say when I jumbled the point. I am very near having my own language started.

We can only hope that this crazy brain drain will be over once Aidan exits my body. I would even settle on rare moments of relapse ( honestly I can't deny that I was kind of like this before baby, but not at all this bad). Just a couple more days of this. :) Then I will be on my toes and sharp as a tack. Right?

I am the truffle shuffle

2010-06-06T08:33:00.000-07:00

You know, the awesome dance move from Goonies? Yeah, that's about the only little number I can do anymore. It is funny (according to the howling laughter from the 7 yr old ) to watch me try. Because apparently all dance moves look the same now. All my old dance team skills have evolved into one solid move that is more like a side to side belly shake. And I can no longer do this quickly in fear of pulling or straining vital internal workings. It is official. I can no longer shake it like a Polaroid picture. My Groove Thang is out of order. And though I like to move it move it, I should do so carefully.

Last night I was demonstrating the Truffle Shuffle to Hal and noticed that it's about the only dance I can do well. And I have mad skills. And it's a serious classic. I will teach Aidan to do it as soon as he is able because how frikken cute will that be!?

Happy anniversary Goonies. I love you.

The Master Plan

2010-06-02T19:39:00.000-07:00

Finally. After weekly visits that end in a smiling nurse shaking her head no. Have I mentioned how much I hate being told no? Oh, I thought I had touched on that. Yeah, so I hate it. I usually try not to put myself in situations where I am told no. I like YES moments far better. So much more positive. And when I am happy, lots of people are happy. I am fairly sure this is how most women operate. Unless they are a gluten for punishment and like to pout. So after being told NO more times in a month than I have ever encountered in my life prior, I am told YES!!!! Yes we can schedule the C-section for my baby. Yes I can have it on the day I wanted ( because what an awesome sounding birthday that will be). And yes it will be next week. Again, one of those clouds parting, sun shining down in soft rays as angels go "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh" moments. Divine indeed. I don't think I have ever been so thrilled to wait forever at the appointment counter as two chatty desk gals flip through my Docs calendar. After waiting eons and even making another trip to the loo (because that's all I do is pee anymore) my day was set. Rather, Aidans day was set.

The only bummer (when dealing with Voldemort it does seem like joy is always dampened slightly on any event) is that we cannot tell the girl. Why not you ask? Well, not because we don't want to. I wanted to call her squealing and giggling as soon as they said I could have my way. And I know she would feel like it is unfair if she ever figures out we knew and didn't let her in on it. But, someone ruined that for her. Someone that lets her watch Greys Anatomy. Let me give you some back story. A while back Hal came to me and in a brave tone with a shaky voice asked if I was going to have a C-section. I asked how she knew what that was, or if any of her friends Mommys had had that. She was tearing up and and told me she watched an emergency C-section on Greys Anatomy and a lady had her belly cut open and they took the baby out because the lady or the baby could have died. She said she didn't want me to have to have that. Heavy stuff eh. Yeah. I agree. After really collecting my thoughts on this one and resisting saying how inappropriate it is that her mother allows her to watch that show, I explained that shows like that are all about drama. And without crazy near death plots the show would have no viewers. I told her that in truth, a C-section could happen. But that Mommies all over the world have them and it isn't a scary emergency like TV. Unfortunately, even with my attempts at comforting and correcting, the image is there. I can't erase that. The incredible mind of a 7 year old is an amazing thing. And I refuse to tell her the news of her baby brothers birthday, in fear of the nightmares she could have and the innocent sleep she would lose. Instead I will wait till D-day and Kelly will collect her from school and she will come see me and Aidan after. I won't lie about how he came into the world, by then I know she wont even think about it. Just him being here will overshadow any scary thought.

So, am I happy? Insanely! With only one little drawback. That could have been prevented with proper parenting. After next week all will be ok. And Aidan will finally be here!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Afterthought:

If you will not protect your child, who will protect your child from you?

C is for Coffee

2010-06-01T09:02:00.000-07:00

This is how Aidan positions himself in my tummy.

Upside down (that part is at least good). Cris-cross applesauce with his booty pointing outward and his knees to the side creating a very strange lumpy triangle shaped belly. Kelly jokes that he is meditating and getting all Zen in there. But I don't think his violent outbursts are very Zen like. He is still my little weapon wielding warrior inside the womb. He still kicks the daylights out of me if the mood strikes him. It is however less fierce and with a little less power behind each jab. I am guessing this is because at 9 lbs, the space has started to become minimal for range of motion. Hallelujah for that small favor. Chuck Norris has been restricted.

We are coming up on 38 weeks in a day or so. I am as big as a house and caffeine has become a morning and afternoon necessity to just stay with it. I like it when some people comment about how that can't be good for the baby. Because at this point, is it really going to stunt his growth? Really? And it's not like I am back to my pre-preggo 5 shot Americano or anything ( oh how I miss thee). I have a cup of joe in the a.m. and a coke at some point during the day. Really not a huge deal. It is not heroin. I also like to compare everything to heroin because it's an extreme. And everything seems better in comparison. If I had had to give up coffee cold turkey I don't know what kind of massacre would have ensued. Very seriously, Java has saved many many lives in the last 8+ months. There were moments I would have made the 5 o'clock news had I not been properly caffeinated that day. It continues to keep me sane and productive. I guess I am giving a big shout out to caffeine. I'd like to thank Tully's, Dunkin' Donuts, Coca Cola, Peets, Starbucks, even Millstone and Folgers helped out at some point. A special thanks to Heavenly Donuts, with their awesome coffee/cruller combo on a rough day.

It's the little things. :)

chin up. stay positive.

2010-05-27T18:00:00.000-07:00

Well. *sigh* I have taken more than 24 hours to calm down since the appointment yesterday. It is safe to assume that I am still pregnant. It is also safe to assume that I am a tad irritable about this. I actually have not been that frustrated and angry in..........wow, ok, ever. I have a problem with things I cannot change. There, I said it. I do not get my hopes up because then I can be let down. But I thought I was being all sly and hiding it. Like I was tricking myself into really feeling like it was no big deal. When Dr. Awesome came to check things out and NO PROGRESS SINCE LAST WEEK!!!???!! I lost it. I sobbed and cried and wanted to go home. I didn't tantrum or beg for a re-check. I just rolled over (as much as I could, darn belly) and bawled. I had not in fact tricked anyone. I was extremely disappointed. Aidans growing size is tipping me off the edge of sane, reasonable thought. I keep imagining having a 12 lb baby (he is already 9lbs). I admit it. I am terrified. We are at 37 weeks and now get to visit again at 38 weeks. Yippee! Being mute the whole car ride home and putting off the calls to parents and friends with updates did not make me feel better. Nor did laying down on my super comfy bed, face in pillow style like I used to do when I was ten and life was "unfair" and crying my soul dry. For the first time in years the aching chest was a sign of let down. I had in fact gotten my hopes up. Quite high honestly. And so I surrendered to the thought that this little person would more than likely refuse to come out before he weighed a metric ton. Next appointment would prove the same stubborn cross sitting fetus mocking me. And I would go back to my original plan of C-sectioning the little, I mean, big stinker out of there before he has a chance of destroying what is left of my body. I will remove him. At 39 weeks I will be able to do so , and I will. And then I can resume being madly in love with him again.

The strangest part of having a baby is in fact being unable to plan. You can plan the crib. You can plan the people who get to visit the hospital. You can even plan to make your own baby food. But you cannot accurately plan when the child will come out. Unless you have him evicted at 39 weeks.

It is now a stand of between me and the kid. We shall see who calls the shot.

Body Battle

2010-05-26T08:28:00.000-07:00

Going over the vocabulary I choose for this blog is sometimes an unconscious thing. More robotic and automatic. Thinking about the phrases I avoid made me laugh today though. Like the fact that I think the word "crotch" is a horrendous term to use during any pregnancy related topic. It's offensive. I prefer the term "pelvis". It is an all inclusive way to discuss that region entirely. And the fact that everyone reading this knows where babies come from makes it easy to skirt using the "V" word. Really in the whole labor pain/contraction/crippling world I live in recently, the "V" hasn't even played a role. And when it does, I am pretty sure I will be screaming far too much to blog about any of it.

Yesterday afternoon was the epic onslaught of torture thus far. The incapacitating, knock the wind out of me, drop me to my knees and paralyze me contractions. Which I feel it safe to call actual contractions and not this braxton hicks crap. I was in tears on the phone with first my husband, then my nurse. Holy hell did I sob. Have not been that panicked ever. I felt out of control. My whole abdomen was seizing every 40-50 minutes and my tailbone pressure was making me see stars. The baby was fighting back as my abs (what is left of the poor things) constrict him. In between these involuntary bouts of all things hurting, I still has tightness throughout and my lower back, which had kind of called a truce when the baby dropped and weight dispersed a little different, was back with a vengeance. Guess the truce was off. The lower back had now teamed up with most of my internal organs in protest of these contractions. I could clearly tell this when I began getting nauseous in unison with having the constant urgent sensation of needing to pee (though most often the peeing was a false alarm, you never can be too sure at this stage) and of course the back pain. Imagine my relief when my husband arrived and I was no longer pacing and crying around the house moaning like a zombie without an audience. My relief was very brief and transformed into embarrassment because I hate to cry more than almost anything on the planet and voila! I am reduced to a pathetic crying mess during these body battles. Lame. Then I cried harder, and blubbered. And the best part? When the contractions picked up again, the swearing is added to the crying, blubbering nonsensical theatrics and I am a sideshow.

About 5 hours late things settled down as I consumed spicy chicken nuggets and chased it with a frosty ( have I mentioned that I love my husband). I was exhausted and annoyed. This either needs to happen or not happen. Never have I felt less in the drivers seat. There is literally nothing I can do to steer this ship. So I did what any woman does when they have had a stressful day. I went to bed early and pouted. Kelly came in and after talking about life in general he had done what he often does best. Talked me out of a rough mood and and reminded me of how good I have it. I slept amazing after my full body workout and woke up happy. Today we go to see Dr. Awesome again. And I plan on throwing the largest tantrum ( out of body experience) if I don't hear the word induce, followed by a very near date. Like today or even tomorrow will work for me. I can be reasonable. :)

Again, wish me luck.

Super Me

2010-05-24T08:41:00.000-07:00

As I enjoy my huge cup of coffee and bowl of Life cereal I read my emails. And as I read my emails and check my social networking site I feel pretty good today. The sun has come out a skosh and my dogs are piled up snoring in a sunbeam together. I have been chugging along on a few projects to keep me busy while I wait for the timer to ding on this whole baby thing. As I sit and cruise through my inbox it sinks in that I have been one hellova busy bee indeed. Alot of people may not know much about me( because I have become a baby oven and talked very little about anything else) but I will share a few private tidbits. Aiming the focus at family and happiness really does start to make sense at a certain age. Anyhow, one of my major projects has been buying a house with the Hubby. We have mulled it over about 47 million times and plotted it out about as many ways. In previous entry I did rant a bit about not having the baby room ready because we don't have one in this tiny shack. And Aidans stuff has mostly landed in boxes labeled with what age he'll be able to use things. We need to move asap to say the least, say it briefly and without all the swear words I want to tack on to express my frustration. So that is now clicking along the channels of production, and coming along quite nicely so far (knock on wood right this second). Also, my Pops, who happens to be just about the coolest guy on this whole planet (with all his amazing stories, like how he went to school with Val Kilmers dad and how he used to ride in a pack of crazy Harley bikers and extreme musical know-how, he is just awesome beyond words) and my BFF. Well my Daddio needs help sometimes. He is solo and getting older and every now and then he has to deal with people who don't take him seriously because he is a little old man. That's where I come in. I am the family bulldog. I call and yell at people who don't treat my family with respect. And I love it. Nobody, I mean nobody ignores my Daddy and his medical needs or questions. So I have taken on some of his projects that he needs help with too. I like to stay busy because I have found that if I do not, I will wander around the house peeking through boxes I packed. Or ( here's an embarrassing one) I hang around the front window to see when the nice neighbor and her baby go for a walk so I can intercept her and talk about life. Yeah, I only did that twice before I felt like a lurker or stalker and snapped out of it. And seriously, how many showers and baths can one preggo take in a day to chill out and relax? I can't do too many baths anymore anyway because of my fear of getting stuck in the tub while Kel is at work.

I looked back at my accomplishments over the last few weeks and feel like I have been productive beyond nesting. Energy well spent for sure. Kinda crazy really. Who takes on buying a house, battling the VA medical system and planning birth at the same time? Maybe I have lost it. Again. Seems to be the trend. But after reviewing this full plate, no better yet, full platter of duties, I felt like Super Woman. Hopefully I can take this experience and turn it into being Super Mom.

Now birth. Let that pleeeeeeeeeeeeaase be next on the agenda. I have all other tasks on track and I can labor now. Ready go!!

out of the mouths of twits

2010-05-22T16:40:00.000-07:00

So my husband is just on pins and needles about when our son will pop out and I really think he has become that guy who will talk about it with anyone. It's really adorable how proud he is of this giant little man. We have come to find his size both amazing and awesome. And when a bazillion docs say that "a large baby is a healthy baby" or "we would worry more if he was very small for his term" we have come to take it as a blessing that he is just a big boy. His growth spurts have been chart topping and after every u/s he gets the nod of developmental approval. So, when my husband tells Voldemort about his amazing size and how excited we are (because in one of her snakelike creepy nice moods she actually asked for a baby update *shiver*) she gives him a grossed out look and actually says "is there something wrong with him?". Totally taking the wind out of Kellys sails. Wow. Talk about no couth, class or social barometer. That would, for the normal human, have been an open mouth insert foot moment followed by an apology. But no. She starts to rant about how many ultrasounds she had and how rough her pregnancy was. I didn't know that the best time for a " birth-off" was right after you make a rude comment about someones unborn child insinuating baby weight was a disorder. I suppose to an anorexic it may very well be seen as evil and disgusting to have a chubby baby. But the rest of the people I know think those cheeks are just right for the squeezing. So whatever.

I do laugh at things like this and shake my head. The average diet freak may not be aware that baby fat actually fuels the brain and creates a much smarter little kid. It's cool. And when Aidan can move the couch at 18 months so I can vacuum, some folks will be jealous.

little mister cranky pants

2010-05-20T09:48:00.000-07:00

I had really held my breath and hoped that yesterday would be the day I heard the good news. The green light to start Aidan on his journey out of my body. It was the super session with Dr. Awesome that included checking all signs of birth readiness and measuring the meatball. The 8lb 9oz meatball. Technically he is not due for 4 weeks. And he is that huge. "Mommy's little overachiever" he was called. And then when he repeatedly punched his heart monitors out of place he was called "little tough guy". And when he refused to sit still during the ultrasound and kept making squished up grumpy faces in his 3d photos he was again referred to as "uncooperative". Man oh man. Do Kelly and I have our hands full or what. I do have to say that the grump face is the most ridiculously cute thing ever and I can't wait for his first fit with his fat bottom lip stuck out all pouty and his brow furrowed. I may look like a bad mom for laughing and telling him he is trying so hard to be tough, but who cares. That crap is priceless and after 7 yrs of teaching pre-school behind me, I have a mild immunity to that and tantrums. Heck I may be like my Gram and sit right next to him, turn up the Tv and tell him "you think that's crying? you can do better than that you wuss, I can still hear my show".

I derailed. Back on track now. This appointment was supposed to be the one where they tell me when we are inducing due to his size. I am terrified of going full term with a 10+ pound baby. And every day I throw my back out a little more and my pelvis ache makes me walk like an 90 yr old woman. No such luck. I am only effaced 70%. I cried. I'd like to think I cried because I have a sweet head cold and I was already feeling like ass. But I doubt it. I was disappointed. A very large part of me wanted Aidan to be here before Hal goes on her trip (extremely pointless journey to Australia which she is too young to really appreciate and which yanks her out of school for 5 days and which causes her to miss her brother being born due to the timing of a woman who clearly does not think of anyone other than herself). Hal has already told me I can't have the baby on a school night or when she is at her moms, so that narrows our window down by a lot and we are obviously on her schedule for for a convenient delivery date. I do sometimes forget that we work for her. Pretty hilarious how the girl has fretted about not being the first to see him when he arrives. I couldn't ask for more love from her. Though it breaks my heart to tell her the truth, I also respect her need for honesty and she is old enough mentally to understand that the doctor will decide it's time when it's time. She also understands the perfect time line may span the week she is gone though it's tough to swallow and will probably want to hurry home. And hopefully karma will kick in and her mom will not be able to fully enjoy her Australian wine tasting due to the sour taste of guilt. Doubtful, but I can hope.

So, I am in bed with a solid sinus cold today. But tomorrow it is yoga ball bouncing while I watch a marathon of my favorite food network shows. Come on gravity let's get this body ready for a green light next week. It's starting to become irritating living Wednesday to Wednesday. Who'd have thought I'd be looking forward to mid week doc visits so much.

it's all coming together nicely

2010-05-14T16:18:00.000-07:00

I went on an adventure today. Good ol' Baby's R Us is an adventure now days. I feel like they only staff the most retarded man/boys to walk around with a clipboard and ask me if I am registered for such in such or have I filled out the offer for yadda yadda. These same yahoos are absolutely inept at directing me to crib sheets and should realllllllly be annoyed my in a fast food window kinda way rather than when I am on a mission. I was hell bent on picking up my crib I ordered asap. So I did what any calm rational woman would do. I called everyday to see if it was in yet. I very seriously be came the "is it there yet? is it there yet?" lady. I did however give them the polite 5 days after ordering before making these daily annoyances I called "checking in". I was super excited today when I made my call and the gal who sounded like mini mouse on speed informed me that my crib was in fact there as of this morning. I thanked mini mouse and hung up before her uber fast corporate scripted goodbye. I jumped out of jammies and into clothes so fast my mom must have thought I was in labor ( my mother has been here helping me prep the house and get baby ready, but more than that she has pointed out and stressed over all the things I could kill myself doing and has "protected" me from myself and has worried over every sigh and moan I produce). I assured her I was not in fact giving birth right that second but that she needed to get dresses so we could go fetch Adians bed from the store NOW. I have been stressing about this crib to the point of assembly dreams where I just sit cross sit on the floor with an Allen wrench and instructions putting the thing together. What a boring dream.

I go pick up the crib and on the way home realize I have not chosen sheets. Bah!! This is because every time I go to look I get all sidetracked on random other items or I start comparing prices to the point my eyes cross. And usually I leave without any. But the whole way home I keep thinking of this thought that wont leave my brain. "If you build it, he will come". No joke. I really have been feeling like after I put this bed together meatball will pop out. I know it's irrational and though that is kinda the land I live in recently, I agree there is no way that Aidan could know that up till today he'd have slept in a drawer or laundry basket (or 657 other ideas my friends and I have joked about when I got all paranoid about the crib order not getting here in the promised 7-21 days ). But I have a gut feeling (no pun intended) that he will decide to come out once his sleeping quarters are constructed. So hurry home daddy, I gotta chore for you. I will resist calling every 5 minutes of his commute to ask how close he is or if he's here yet. But let me tell you that is tempting. Because if he builds it, Aidan will come. And I will order his sheets online. To avoid droning un-helpful clipboard man-boys.

hanging tough

2010-05-09T09:17:00.000-07:00

I am just barely surviving these days. Not to sound dramatic but at times I am positive I am dying. This child is enormous. And he along with his water weight are settling into my lower regions and taking over. He now lodges his big huge cranium in my pelvis and pushes. That, my friend, is the most bizarre ache ever created EVER!! His feet nestled in my side and his little butt pushing my belly button out tell me that he can still move wherever he wants to. Oh joy!!! So much fluid I have given him. All I am asking is that he be the next Michael Phelps ( minus the drug use) and repay me for the torturous backflips and kickturns. There are times when I look at his lumpy parts, contorting my tummy into geometric shapes not round in the slightest, and think "Geez boy, that cannot be comfortable". And then I beg him to just come out already. I have bargained, pleaded, bribed, threatened so much that I am running out of parenting "compromise" tools. It is seriously clear that he is going to be here soon. My belly has reached the drooping status that now points my belly button, aka turkey timer (which has fully popped out thanks for asking) at a downward angle towards the ground. Did you know this settling, dropping of the baby inside, is actually called "lightening" ? What the french toast? It should have a much less deceptive term. Like " heavy-ing" or "not long now lady, hang in there". Lightening. Pshhhh. That is a riot. Nothing light about this meatball. Makes me wonder if this is how Meatloaf got his name. (Yeah, my random turrets is on for sure. Sorry bout that.) Anyhow the upside is that once he settled lower a bit, in theory I am supposed to feel less heartburn and be able to breathe deeper. We shall see is this is true with all is baby water. I am mildly skeptical.

In other news. I have been trying to get out and walk around the block or to the store to exercise and get this guy motivated to move out. This has helped with aches and pains a bit. But, winded as all get out I get home and have to sit on the porch before exerting more energy looking for my keys. I have also been trying some home remedies for assistance. Thus far this list has not shown signs of labor. But I will repeat just in case it is all about timing.

* pineapple

* spicy foods ( Kellys BBQ chicken and Panda express Beijing Beef)

* sex

* skipping ( wayyyyyy too much work for a fat lady. never again)

* a glass of red wine here and there (totally ok with Dr Awesome)

So far no real difference. Contractions are happening but not at any rapid clip. And nothing worth counting or timing. Next ultrasound is in a week or so and we still have our weekly visits to check on meatball. I will be asking doc about serving little dude with a eviction notice soon.

As the saying sorta goes except I altered it to fit my needs, "You ain't gotta go far but you gotta get the hell outta me".

Happy Mothers Day ya'll.

Ah ha!!!

2010-05-02T21:31:00.000-07:00

I remembered :)

So yesterday was my birthday and I am such a lucky girl. I really wanted sushi (which I have been deprived of) and my loving husband took me and my mother out for my birthday lunch at my favorite place. I know full well I can't have raw fish. Duh. I do however love love love seared tuna. Technically it is not raw. It is nearly raw. But I come out on top due to a technicality. Wahooo!! So in the door we walk, me all dolled up with my hair done all pretty and makeup, the whole nine ( anyone who has known me ever knows that dolled up does not happen often and the last few months if they've seen me, it's been next to never ) my husband smiling, and my mom excited. And we see my doctor waiting to be seated. He arrived just before we did! Small world. I resisted introducing him to my mother as Dr. Awesome, said our hellos, and went to our ways to our seats. What a pleasant surprise. Except I am on work leave and supposed to be resting. Oops. I had mentioned we were out for my birthday so I doubt he cares. But even still, I kept looking over my shoulder wondering if he could see me feeling guilty and sneaky as I enjoyed my two little portions of Tuna. MMmmmmmmm. *drool* Tuna. Hope he doesn't say anything next appointment. I will blush and stammer for certain.

Amazing birthday lunch. Followed by a perfect gift of Alton Browns cookbook ( totally fantastic for the culinary nerd such as myself ). And a delicious dinner of baby back ribs cooked slow and low for hours and many a basting. My husband aced the birthday, again reminding me of why he is my perfect match.

See :) I knew I would remember what the heck I was gonna say earlier. Thank you for your patience.

be careful what you say

2010-05-02T11:32:00.000-07:00

I have learned a many many exponentially valuable things during this time in my life. Like that I need to bite my tongue around my mommy friends instead of bragging about not getting stretch marks ( In my defense I didn't mean to brag, I was just shocked with how big I was getting without a trace of a single stretch yet). Well, some of you may be glad to hear, I have gotten what I call train tracks on both hips. It didn't stop there. I had mentioned that I had "only" gotten these blessed train tracks and voila!!! Like magic I had a light marking or two (or five) near my navel. So I will no longer be counting these marks or advertising my shock and awe to friends about them. Because Karma is a bitch even if you don't mean to offend. Had that been me sitting and being punished by my naive amazement, while wearing my maternal medals without mention, I would have been wishing evil things too. So there's that fun. Now I gaze at the widening that is happening to my belly. Curious thing the whole dropping, adjusting, shifting round bump I have. Aidan in settling into my pelvis at times ( he can still flip around like a madman with all that fluid, lucky me) and is heavy in lower places than ever before. New weight distribution all over again and new aches and strangeness. I have chubbed out in the face a little and the arms a little and the rear a little and man oh man do I hope a lot of that is water weight.

I have also learned new annoyances about cleaning. I am nesting out of control and organizing really wacky areas that have apparently been on my mind. Didn't really know that these areas bothered me until I got to put a spatula away and snap like a lunatic dumping out a whole long drawer calling all of it junk, resorting it into other drawers, causing a chain reaction. One thing goes into a separate drawer and immediately I tsk tsk at the status of this new drawer. That will not do either.Dump. and while sorting drawer #2 along with drawer #1 I find something that goes into drawer #3. See a cycle? yeah, I have lost it. It's as though a new me has emerged and taken residence in my body like a cleaning demon possession. After I have exercised this demon with a random pattern of scouring I am left feeling drained and confused and in need of food. I suppose that's what a real demonic possession feel like too. Sometimes I am sweaty and disoriented. I usually get scolded by my husband if this tirade has included any lifting. So I have added the clever new scooting method to moving things around instead of lifting anything. Now he comes home and about 87 boxes may have been scooted to a new location blocking access to a room, or waiting at the top of the stairs as I couldn't complete the objective of relocating them to the basement. That is now man work for the time being.

I am still rather forgetty and originally sat down to blog about my birthday (which was yesterday ) and totally went on another rant. I have no idea what I had intended to write about yesterday but I am sure that I will figure it out and blog again today at some point. I guess that is another thing right there. I miss my memory. I hope the inability to recall things is not permanent.

when it rains it pours

2010-04-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

For the first time that phrase has good meaning behind it. I am referring to the shower for Aidan. Huge success. Huge. My best friend of over 15 yrs along with another wonderful friend ( the kind you meet and are instantly like "holy shit, have we known each other our whole lives or what?") combined forces to pull off the ultimate surprise. I am kind of a control freak when it comes to parties I guess. Ok, it's pretty bad I will admit it. Around the holidays my roommate used to call me the Christmas Nazi as I vetoed her decorations because they did not "match". I know. Over the top. So for me the fact that anyone was able to plan something without me taking over or inadvertently ruining the surprise by making other plans is incredible.And the topper on the shock value is that they managed to coordinate my Mother into the mix by having her come up from Reno early to be there without me figuring it out! The party was only missing a handful of near and dears who had very good reasons for not being in attendance. That in itself is amazing because I feel like this last year of my life has really kept me from being a good friend to anyone by just crawling under a rock to grow this baby. It really cuts you out of the social loop more than you think it will. I was touched when the non-attendees sent me messages about how they really had wanted to be there because I could tell they actually felt like they missed out. I cried when I looked around and it registered in my baby brain that more than half these ladies don't know each other at all and they came all the way across town to celebrate my boy. Way tear jerking. My sister in law was there with her sister in law, both seriously good company but they topped it by bringing Abby. Abby is a teeny tiny little almost 3 year old with a personality and golden curls and a laugh that kills me. She decorated my tummy to look like a piggy with cute stickers and was such a good girl. *sigh* It made me think of what kind of child mine will be. And as I watched Hal and my nephew Robbie sing and dance and eat cupcakes till they were running on pure sugar, I really had my Mom pants on as I snapped at them to get along or get over it. I opened all my gifts and played games, but watching the 7 yr olds and talking about babies made it click that I am a Mom. I know, another Duh moment. But seriously when you are swept up in baby-in-tummy excitement people just ask the common questions "how are you feeling?" "When are you due?" and no one ever says "How do you feel about being a Mother?" " Are you ready for this, you are so close". So the shower really made it feel like it's almost time. He really is here. And playing an extremely clever game on a giant poster of a uterus which held an egg bearing my face was the comedy icing one the sentimental cake. Especially when that game required the girls to pin the sperm, bearing my husbands face, to my egg. I really love my people because that is my kind of funny right there.

The shower had all the classic makings. Games, food, diapers on all things decorated. My friends even wrote down every comment I made while opening gifts and strung them together to make a long story of the night Aidan was conceived. I recommend that at any party from here forward. Not dry eye in the room due to ruckus laughter. Really really good times. So good that it lasted about 7 hours!!! Everyone slowly trickled out on their way of course but it really took a long time with lengthy goodbyes. I thought about it when I got home and was eagerly sorting gifts into toy and clothes bins. I fell like some of my friends that don't have kids were kind of saying their last goodbyes as though I were going off to war and they might not see me ever again. And on the total flip side, I feel like my Mommy friends were welcoming me into the secret club. In the middle there are a couple of the married/engaged gals yearning for babies of their own with the cute sappy welled up look as they hugged me.

My Mom has been with me since the shower helping get this house in order. I have to admit having her here earlier than expected has been awesome. My kitchen got a makeover as I nested out of control and she cleansed every surface with bleach for me. We listed the order in which rooms would get overhauled and things we needed to buy. I love my husband dearly, but this is what I needed. New energy with all the time in the world to devote to baby preparation. The days are mixed with fun food concoctions and stories of crazy crap my siblings and I did as babies ( most would be included if I ever write a book about this whole child experience. it's only fair). Really the time is flying by. Truthfully the days had been dragging on and I thought it would be slow a suffering wait till delivery day. Now we just clean and wait.

Big thanks to all my ladies who enjoyed that very special shower day. And an even bigger thanks and many Kudos to the girls that pulled off the heist. :)

smile maker

2010-04-25T12:09:00.000-07:00

While watching Spongebob with my awesome step-kid this morning a fun little blerb about Mother's Day came on. I am always amazed by this great child I have. Not by birth though, make no mistake (her mother reminds me all the time that I am NOT the biological mother, nor will I ever come close. real sweetheart let me tell ya). I don't really care honestly. Hal loves me for who I am and how I treat her as a person. Ok, back to the funny. So this Mother's Day thingy comes on and after a few minutes Hal says "You are my Mom. You're just not my Mom." and then "I really don't like calling you my step mom". She is so torn about it. We joke that I won't ever be the wicked stepmother as long as she doesn't turn into the wicked step-kid. I adore my relationship with her. I love that she talks to me about life as she sees it, and it's awesome to hear what her major dilemmas in her world are. Mostly revolving around snotty friend wars at school or Mrs. Meany teacher yelled at so and so. I respect her passion for fairness and her love of music. I am constantly proud of her desire to hear the truth about tough topics, and her understanding of when a topic is not for her ears yet. She is bright and funny and silly and I really couldn't have asked for a better daughter in my life. It just warms my heart that she thinks of me as a mother figure and respects that I am firm but kind. Even though she is led to ignore my parenting ( another story for another day and frankly a whole new blogs worth of gripes), she makes her own judgments about character and still looks up to my opinions and thoughts. How lucky can I be. :)

I am not her Mom. But I am damn glad to be her Mom.

all up in my crib

2010-04-24T22:37:00.000-07:00

I know. That was gangster. Made me giggle so I had to. Any how. Crib talk.

I have been stressing out like none other about the fact that things are NOT how I planned them. I wanted baby to come home to a bright, fresh, adorably perfect nature themed room. With all his furnishings just so. In a newer home with enough space for all. But, that all came to a halt with three simple facts.

1) I would have no power or control in a move as I cannot lift anything without even Hal asking what it weighs. ( really funny when she does it and it's a bag from the grocery store containing eggs, toilet paper and M&M's and she still looks all stern. )

2) We would be moving and stressing the #@%! out right before the baby came. Super not healthy for me. (especially considering item 1 ) Or others in the vicinity when I lose my mind.

3) *sigh* Our plan fell through with the house we really wanted and honestly it wont kill us to wait till I am able bodied enough to really be involved in a move. That's what I get for getting my hopes up before papers were signed.

So onto the back burner that went.

I have not stopped twitching with pangs of worry since the whole "we're not moving" thing. So now I lay awake at night thinking about where Aidan will sleep. I am annoyed that his new baby items will be stored (even though I know full well he won't really use most of them in wear or play for months yet) until we are out of this tiny house. Tiny house which seems to be eating me up and closing in on me when I measure in my minds eye where everything will NOT fit for a baby. I am a touch neurotic when it comes to furniture arrangement and decor. Feng shui, eat your heart out. And I am having a very tough time embracing the fact that my son will be in our room for the first few months because I don't know how we will fit an appropriate baby bed in there with our bedroom set. I refuse to allow his primary sleep spot to be my bed. I will nurse and put him back in his crib no matter how the bags under my eyes tell me to just lay back down with him and " rest". I know you moms out there laugh and shake your head and think "just wait till it happens" because some of you have already told me so. But out of all the stuff I swear to stay firm on, this is an easy one. The dogs sleep with us. So Baccus and Maggie win by default and I refuse to subject my son to animal co-sleeping until he is much older and crawls in after a nightmare.

Yesterday I stumbled upon the perfect compromise. I found the mini crib. It really isn't that much smaller than a normal convertible crib (which I was dead set on. they cost a million dollars, they better last a few phases) and also very nice looking. It is small enough to take up just enough space in our room yet it is not a "temp" bed and can go in his room after the move. It's not tacky looking or a play-pen solution to our space issue. The one I like is available tons of places and is very reasonably priced. It even passed the husband test (Not a death trap and doesn't look cheaply made).

Hazzah!!! Now I am free to dwell on other stresses. Like, will he be a good eater. Or, what will he wear home from the hospital. :) You know, the major stuff.

Ps. Baby Depot is my new favorite place. It has 90% of the theme and gear I chose at a little better deal. It is a Burlington Coat Factory side store and has very cool maternity stuff (wish I'd have found that before the 8th month of elastic waistbands, but oh well). I am talking jeans that look like your favorite worn specials but for 12$. Kinda awesome. Baby Depot is online as well, which may work better than driving to Clackamas for most. I repeat, Baby Depot gets two adult and two fetus thumbs up.

You know you are in your 3rd trimester when.........

2010-04-18T10:59:00.000-07:00

You drop a fork and only gaze at it for a moment before opening the drawer and getting out a new fork rather than bend to retrieve the fallen one.

You use your tummy as a TV tray for bowls of snacks. ( and sometimes get annoyed when the child almost knocks it off)

You have retired shoes that tie and socks are now a mystery. It's all ballet flats, slip ons, or flip flops.

You hear about a food that sounds good and get fixated and crazed about that food item until you get to eat it. Then you have a quarter of that meal and you're full. ( very odd for me)

You get a boost of energy and waste it cleaning the one part of your house that doesn't really need cleaning. But you feel pretty productive till you look at the dishes.

You have gotten stuck in the tub and had to do the rocking-onto-all-fours-to-kneeling maneuver to get out of tepid water. And forget pulling the plug while you're in there, you can't reach!!!

You ache in places you didn't know had pain sensors.

You have had to stop in mid sentence because baby has sharply kicked you in the diaphragm and taken your breath away.

You can't eat a whole steak but you can eat a half watermelon.

You build a pillow fortress every night.

You're pajamas are standard attire and answering the door without a bra on has happened.

You have dreams of a chiropractor visit.

I finally let myself remember.

2010-04-17T08:44:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time, long long ago, there had been another baby. One that didn't make the long journey to be born. I have become so good at pushing it to the back of my mind because I know in my heart this time is very different. At the risk of sounding illogical, I have not allowed myself to worry into insane territory. I have not given in to the nervousness as my milestones in pregnancy passed the mark where she gave up. I didn't dwell when morning sickness resembled how I felt way back when. And when I heard his heartbeat and relief flooded me so thoroughly that I felt as though my heart would burst, I no longer ached so deeply for my loss. I felt a serious comfort in being given a second chance. For each month farther from doomsday was closer to really getting a chance to be a Mother, I was thankful. To be 100% honest I held my breath with every test and needle poke and ultrasound. Only recently have I let myself really embrace that I will get to be Mom this time. I never had a doubt that this was a boy, but when we watched the ultrasound to be sure my heart mourned a little. There is more than one reason I needed this to be a boy. I was going to name her Alison. And for so many years she was all I could think of. In a way losing her formed my whole life after. I wouldn't be where I am had I not had the life lesson. I am thankful that doctors can be wrong. I am thankful that I was given a chance I had written off years ago. I am amazed by life and it's wonders. And I am now, more so than the entire length of this pregnancy, able to let Alison rest and embrace wholeheartedly that Aidan lives. She taught me how to not take lifes gifts for granted. I can't express how excited I am to hear him cry for the first time. This is real and this is soon. And now I am thrilled and amazed and have butterflies every time I count the days.

I feel like I am being rewarded for enjoying the life I am living. For accepting what I thought was my fate. For appreciating a man that came into my life in such a serendipitous way and brought with him the added bonus of a step daughter who is in so many ways like me when I was young that it's scary. Being content. And happy. I have been rewarded with Aidan. Who I have no doubt will light up our lives with something special. Not only do I get to give my husband a son, I also get to give Hal a brother. I do feel like this is how it was meant to be. And so it is. :)

refrigerator raider

2010-04-14T12:01:00.000-07:00

I had been keeping some laughable notes on the strange food I have encountered and decided the list was full enough to share publicly. Most people that know me well are not surprised by my food choices. I have been known to eat strange concoctions when money is tight and cupboards are bare. Hell, we've all had a college type diet at one point or another. With that said, I really only documented the times when something else just wouldn't do. The cravings for the odd or strange. Wild rummaging for a salt/sweet combination or heating up things normally left cold. I have noticed that this is often when my husband is at work and I am home. I don't know if that is because he would turn green at the sight of the buffet I end up with, or that I am only comfortable scarfing these shameful recipe rejects in solitude. If you think the list is short it is probably because I am gross and I didn't list things that are weird but that I would have eaten ( or ate all the time) pre pregnancy.

Snap peas dipped in peanut butter.

Ice cream melted in the microwave. It's like a shake or smoothie I swear.

Saltine crackers dipped in tuna mixed with mayo and chunky salsa.

Sliced chedder cheese with grape jelly on top.

Cottage cheese with pepper and canned peas.

Microwaved salami. Makes it crispy like jerky.

Texas toast accompanied by spoonfuls of peanut butter.

Milk and Dr. Pepper mixed 50/50.

Worst starving-nothing-sounds-good-but-I-must-eat-everything day (so far):

1 large cup of coffee, 4 Cadbury eggs, 2 chicken patties covered in cheese and salsa, 3 granola bars, 6 crackers with peanut butter then moved on to 4 english muffins with peanut butter, half a head of lettuce with salt and pepper, half a tin of cashews and pecans, a cup of rice with melted butter and brown sugar, a whole bag of snap peas, 2 32 oz bottles of Gatorade, 4 slices of texas toast, and a subway blt footlong.

And still craved ice cream and ate 4 popcicles. Still craved ice cream and went to the store.

tried and true

2010-04-10T22:24:00.000-07:00

Recently I caved in to the selfish need to feel human again. Having the life force sucked from you daily kinda leaves you feeling like an empty shell and sooooooo not womanly and attractive. So I decided to try some new things out. I figured some would be crap and some legit and I'd write reviews of these items. Here are the latest:

Smooth Away: an As-seen-on-TV product claiming to remove leg (and any body hair) with a small exfoliating pad rubbed in circular motions.

Review: VERY GOOD!!! actually worked very well. Tested on the lower leg and didn't add lotion (just in case of irritation). The pad was super easy to use, not messy, I could use it sitting comfortably on my sofa watching TV. No nicks, bumps or irritations. The leg rub-down actually felt quite nice for circulation and massage.

Warning: Don't use on goose bumps when chilly. Creates a little redness.

Jergens Sun Kissed moisturizer: product said to darken skin tone gradually with daily use.

Review: YUCKY!! Streaky as all get out. Darkens unevenly and with an unnatural hue of Oompa Loompa. Fools you into thinking it works gradually when really it is a delayed reaction. Go to sleep, wake up orange.

Neutrogena body oil: Light sesame based moisturizer. To be applied on damp skin after showering to lock in moisture.

Review: EXCELLENT!!! Super easy to apply ( much easier than bending forever to rub in thicker lotions) and not too oily at all. Seals in moisture after bathing and has a light clean sent that isn't overpowering and lasts all day. Smooth on and let absorb for a minute or two then towel dry as normal. Great on the tummy when skin gets tight and itchy feeling. Very soothing.

More reviews to come as I run across new things :)

Time to make your guesses!!

2010-04-06T17:08:00.000-07:00

(insert expletive here)

2010-04-06T10:26:00.000-07:00

Normally, on the rare occasion Kelly or I forget to take the trash to the curb, I jump out of bed at the sound of the trash truck. Like a really bad alarm clock because it is worse than most garbage rigs I think, and sounds like Truckasaurus (Simpsons reference) is falling apart all the way along our block. So it wakes me up like nothing else. I usually peek out and check for our bin and if Kelly remembered I go back to sleep. If he hurried to work and passed it, I will throw on the ugg boots and a robe and drag it to the truck as it rumbles along. That was then.

This is now. This is where the cussing starts. Today I woke up and it took me a whole minute to remember what day it was. Then I rocked back and forth to get into position. Gently sat up and swung my legs off the bed. After catching my breath I realized what I was hearing was the sound of the trash man already a few doors down. Past my house. :( I peeked out the curtains and our bin had not moved since yesterday. Darnit. I stumble into the living room and blindly grab around for shoes. Flail into my robe ( Kellys robe I have adopted) and open the front door. I think the preparation took 87 years because the trash collecting rickety crumpet wagon has rumbled and groaned onto the next block. This trash will have to wait till next week.

Moment of clarity: I am no longer able to "Hop out of bed and jet out the door" at all. Not the hopping part. Not the jetting. None of it. Argh. I miss hopping and jetting.

Do not watch sad television

2010-04-05T11:15:00.000-07:00

This morning after I almost got stuck in the bathtub (you try hoisting yourself up when you are jumbo-gy-hugey or try to make a 12 point turn around to escape) I watched some TLC. So many reasons why that is a terrible no good plan. I am stressed enough about the baby being born and should not be watching other couples stressful childbirth stories. I think I have hit the wall where the idea of being Mommy and the excitement for Aidan actually existing has now become "Holy crap, he has to exit my body". I know, I know. Duh. But really, I am now scared. Imagining my options at first (psssshhhh, as though they are actual options. HA!) and deciding how to have him was such a sweet fantasy of a conversation with Kelly. As the days are fewer and Wednesdays appointment with Dr. Awesome is approaching I am writing down 876 question to drill him about the best possible way to land and which parachute to grab. Because at this point I feel like I could be thrown from a plane without warning and it would feel the same. When the time comes, I want to be in the most control possible in an unpredictable situation. Aidan is coming early. No doubt about it. So now the question is, schedule a C-section and get it over with. Or, schedule induction and possibly push for 4900 hours to end with a C-section anyhow. Even though I am well aware that inducing could mean he pops out no problemo in 40 minutes for all I know. That part is all Aidans choice. My gut is saying don't give the kid any option to be stubborn before he is in reach of spanking. :)

But really, all the expecting T.V. shows do for me is wind my anxiety up and leave me crying. Next question is when? I am annoyed that one of the most important people in this family will be away for about a week during prime time for Aidan being brought into the world. I am very nervous that Doc will choose one of those days as the best delivery date. Hal and I had a really good talk about it and I am so damn proud that she is logical and understanding even though I can tell it really bothers her to think she'd miss out. Such a tough front for a 7 yr old to hold up. Never wanting to be a downer. The sweetheart asked if she could wait to go on her trip and I reminded her that is not an option and it's out of our hands ( I cannot hide my resentment for the creator of this complication nor can I ignore how torn it makes the girl feel) . So we will all cross our fingers that he will be here even a day before or a day after to make sure she can be there. I am very lucky to have such an involved little girl to love this baby with everything she's got. I am also very lucky that I get to give her this amazing gift of becoming a big sister. Ugghhh!! all sappy. Getting all teary again. Blast you Baby Story!!!!! *shakes fist* making me all sentimental and mind screwy.

I am going to get our baby birth date guessing and weight guessing started to side track me. :) That will be way fun.

time is just ticking away

2010-04-04T11:41:00.000-07:00

Along with the swift countdown to the arrival of meatball a few other things have begun. For one, the insane dreams of things that are totally out of my control ( which I think is just me really feeling helpless about a few major worries in my life right now, some not even baby related) . Two, I feel like everything is old and dirty. EVERYTHING!! Crazy how it all of a sudden feels like your couch that you love to be lazy on is sooooo sub standard for a new baby to even be near. I am aware that there is nothing wrong with my furniture and all will be fine, it's just nesting madness trying to instill panic. Three, I feel like I hate every item of clothing can fit in. Which is not many. But I refuse to buy more items because wearing them for two months feels like such a waste of money. And that just triggered a rant:

Dear marketing teams in charge of Maternity Clothes,
I loathe you with the fiery passion of ten thousand suns. You mark up a pair of jeans past normal retail value of a non-maternity version of that same style. No remorse, no sympathy. We are left with no choice but to purchase your clothing because we are a widely overlooked demographic. We are funneled into your stores, as few there are. Or better yet, we walk past your ONE rack of maternity functioning rags at major merchants and sigh at the lack of selection or comfort. I despise the feeling of being robbed at gun point when I try to look online and see the "deals" are pathetic and if we were ever leery of purchasing any garment without trying it on, now would be the time.And to top it off we are at a stage where trying on clothes feels like a triathlon and we'd like sizes NOT to vary so much. It is a market without a heart for women without choice. We are forced to buy your overpriced threads which we wear for a limited time and these items cost us more than the outfits we buy for regular use that last us years!!! In closing, I hate you and the pockets in which you stuff my hard earned money that I make at the job that required I dress "un-sloppily" thus forcing me to shop, and in turn buy your items. Damn you.

P.s. Have more clearance sales and I will let up on the hate mail.
~Shan

Yeah, so I really miss my pre-prego jeans. I have been visiting them and promising to bring them out of hiding within 6 months. It WILL happen.

I am off to clean the bathroom and hope to god Hal still believes in the Easter Bunny when she arrives here today. Or heaven help someone dashing my hopes. I hid too many eggs for this to be the year the blinders are taken off the kid.

Brutal Honesty

2010-04-01T09:47:00.000-07:00

Real life facts about this pregnancy. No sugar coating. Might be gross and amazing and personal and revealing and probably TMI. Enjoy :)

-I miss sleeping on my stomach as though it were and old friend that moved to China.

- Prenatal vitamins make you constipated beyond anything you have ever experienced. There is no remedy for this other than juices and foods. I will spare you the fun I had trying to configure the right combo as not to be punished with the extreme opposite of this suffering.

- Viewing a C-section on You tube was a great and terrible idea all at the same time. Now I can logically understand the procedure and also have very vivid nightmares.

-I refuse to watch a vaginal childbirth unless it's the cartoony ones on the prego websites that remind me of the non-offensive ones shown in jr. high health class.

- The thought of upping my caffeine intake back to pre-pregnancy amounts to keep this baby from hulking out at a birth weight of 11 lbs has crossed my mind several times. I wont do it because I am chicken and I know it's wrong.

- I am excited and very scared at the idea of delivering early. It is very very likely.

-I am angry that I may deliver when my step daughter is in Australia with her extraordinarily selfish and thoughtless biological mother. Voldemort (as I refer to her as she is often not named but we all know her to be a manipulative undercurrent) is not a fan of this baby. My step daughter would like to live in his room and quit school to be his nanny. Being absent for Aidans birth would break her heart. I do genuinely feel half bad for the cold shoulder the girl would give her mom if this does happen.

- I think that stretch marks are a sign that your body is giving 110%

-Sometimes I sit and listen to the whoosh whoosh noise that my pounding head makes because of my blood pressure.

- The baby really truly can hurt you in there. I have never felt so breathless as when his foot is in the rib area and pushing on god knows what. All I could do was drop to all fours and push him down away from there.

-All of my dreams in which I am pregnant are of delivery scenarios. The rest are of skinny me and normal activities which is really confusing to wake from with a movement in the belly. Takes a few minutes to adjust back to reality.

- My circulation is becoming a major annoyance. It's like getting dizzy because you sat down for too long. That shouldn't happen in normal life. But in pregnancy, sitting certain ways makes the whole baby and water weight push on arteries that carry blood back to you brain. So now, with jumbo meatball in there, I get all woozy sitting. Talk about feeling lazy.

- I will be able to relax after the 32 week mark when I know his lungs are well formed and practicing ( because if something causes pre-term labor after that, he will be ok here in the outside world). I will be ready for him to be out at 37 weeks because I am already foreseeing a capacity issue.

- Selfish as it sounds, I want my body back. I don't feel like myself. I am a vessel carrying priceless cargo. But, I miss feeling full for more than an hour after a meal. I miss tying my shoes. I miss spooning with my husband and allowing him to be the little spoon ( right now it's like a backwards ladle and a teaspoon). I want to wake up ache free again.

- I have Sasquatch legs. I cannot reach to shave them. It is a forest that my sons assistance of hormones has created. Out of control.

- My hair on my head is incredible (flip side from above griping). Long shiny full locks. I will continue taking Folic acid the rest of my life to keep this hair.

- At the risk of sounding like an alcoholic, I am counting down to the first Happy Hour I can participate in. Number 1) because I miss the time out with friends with a lemon drop in my hand. Number 2) because I really, really, really, love bar appetizers at half price. Number 3) because I don't like the looks I get now if I sidle up to the bar to take advantage of these great prices on yummy snacks. People shouldn't watch me eat chicken wings right now anyway. It's terrifying.

Doctor Awesome

2010-03-26T08:30:00.000-07:00

Latest doctor appointment update. I promise after this serious nonsense I will go back to posting the crazy stuff again. I can't handle being serious for long anyhow. But this is great! Because we have a new doctor!!!! (crowd cheers, streamers fall from the sky and a marching band plays through) He is funny without being annoying, laughs at my jokes, takes my concerns seriously, and answers our questions on the same visit!!! Incredible compared to the other past tense no time for bedside manner doctor. He even thought my question about "if drinking Gatorade could influence Aidans growth" was not stupid. And said he'd never heard it before. He hopped online to find nutrition facts and weigh out sugar content. It was great!! I mean athletes drink it right? So I wondered if all those electrolytes were making my kid buff. Doctor Awesome did not laugh and shrug and say "I doubt it" and leave. He actually investigated it thoroughly. The outcome of our very long visit was good news. After many many measurements of brain, kidneys spine, femur, face, heart, ect. the result is just a big boy. No negative abnormalities. Dr. Awesome also did a new ultrasound that I had been creeped out by until we were in the middle of it and it dawned on me what I was looking at was my son. The 3d image can tell the doc more and abnormal features would show clearly. But no. My kid is wayyyyyyyy cute.

Kinda intense what technology can do now. The sides are cropped away so we can see his face thus a void. Looks like a clay baby sculpture. But still, I cried. The closest I will get to seeing his chubby cheeks till June. Kelly and I were arguing about who got to keep the picture at work. So they printed two.

He is 3 1/4 lbs (estimated of course) and in a massive amount of fluid. At this rate of growth he could easily be 9-10 lbs!!! And we have a chance of an early baby. As long as he isn't too early and he is healthy I don't care when he gets here. :) And Tiff may be happier not having to share her birthday after all.

I am overjoyed to have a new Doctor that we adore. And every person in his office is great. Considering I entered that appointment crying and sobbing like a crazy person because we got lost at the hospital and I was already worked up and nervous about the term Genetic Specialist. I was a mess and the girls there just ushered me into our room and even brought me juice! Now that is customer service. I felt like such an idiot for crying and carrying on. My least favorite thing to do is cry. I try very hard to keep it together, and even through pregnancy hormones I have managed to be pretty level with emotional meltdowns. So to bawl in front of a packed waiting room and blubber an apology for being late as I tried to check in was mortifying. Good thing everything after that was smooth sailing and wonderful people. They acted like it happens all the time. Which is a very good point. It does. Just what us first timers need to remember. We are Rookies, but this happens all the time.

Morning rock a thon

2010-03-24T08:56:00.000-07:00

I like to play music for my boy and sing along. I sound like a dying animal but the joy of joys is that he may actually like it. I do know that he has some excellent taste in good tunes. My tiny dancer is a fan of Brandi Carlile, Ben Harper and Bare Naked ladies. :) I can't help exposing him to some Brand New, Rush, Gym Class Heroes, Augustana, Metro Station, and The Weepies. I like that he kicks when I dance around, which I am sure is a comical sight for the crazy old neighbor lady. And oh baby when I put on a little Punk goes 80's it's a party up in here. I have probably lost my mind. A little baby stir crazy. I was starting to miss my socks-on-wood-floor dance offs. And then I stopped to think, why the heck can't I still do that? I am pregnant not handicapped. And so it was. When Kelly isn't around I groove to my music and shake it a little. :) Simple pleasures people. Don't act like you wouldn't hear a song on a commercial that you hadn't heard in sooooo long and then find it in itunes just to jam for a minute.That is what started this mess for me. I heard the last snippit of an old classic and then got into a whole playlist of excellent. What a way to jump into a great mood.

Now me and Kel and little are off to the doc. At least now I am in good spirits.

a little "ABC 123" never hurt nobody :)